We are undoubtedly entering a golden age of digital design. 15 years ago I caught that bug. I followed no anointed design school road; I learned it places far from the magic coasts. Backwaters and swamps hidden from the bay and the sound of trumpets of the new age.
What do I have? What do I know?
I'm an outsider to what's in. I am a span across canyons. I designed where no one wanted it. I kept caring while others zombied. I tended fields called barren and watched as fads and trends multiplied around me.
All while I learned.
Now I know what it is to coax a daisy from dried ground as others compare swaying treetops. I can speak of bringing something out of nothing when all there is, is a crushed seed and a drop of water.
I guess sometimes I wish that I had grown a tree or two. I didn't though. Not yet.
The lines I drew and didn't
Drew me here today
Words I said and swallowed
Tell me what to say
Burdens carried and dropped
In every moment weigh
Winds I faced and turned from
Steering me this sway
A shaped heart, crafted
A vision worn, once and future bid
Notes now in grid
Before you a designer
Take that as you will
A tired whiner
Stubbornly pointing still
I'll do what you don't
I'll try when you won't
I'll embrace when you avoid
I'll build when you've destroyed
A mover of the mixed
A winner for the lost
A dotter of weary eyes
A son of all tease crossed
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