When I was little, I used to take painting and calligraphy lessons. My first painting was some random landscape. I used colored ink on rice paper. I felt pretty boss after I had finished it, as if I had just painted a Picasso. My teacher was kind enough to frame it for me. He said to always cherish the first painting. That way, five or ten years down the road, I’ll look at it again and see just how much I’ve improved.
I quit before I got that far, but I did keep the painting. Years later, I decided to take a look at it again. Then I realized something. There’s only one difference between my time as an artist and my time as a blogger.
My shitty paintings were never archived on the internet for everyone else to see.