No Soup For You


I had a dream that I was fighting off eight black men because of my career choice. I assumed it would be eight individuals i didn’t know. But i realized shortly after that it was someone close to home.
Then his mother did everything in her power to keep me close. But…I don’t do bullshit. 
This is the price of fame. 
I ordered an iPad Pro 9.7”, the iPhone 6s Plus, and a stylus to increase the quality of my work. And truly, it has. Some of the best electronics I have ever purchased. On top of this, I have 24 years of experience in art. You can do a lot with that much time.
And when I offered my advice to someone asking about using digital art apps…they got upset with me. Then it’s, “oh…i work for you.” No…your artwork is garbage because not only are you trying to draw like someone else…you’ve compared your art to someone great.
I don’t compare my art. I say, “damn! That guy is really good.” I know my art is amazing. I know I’m great. Comparing and tearing someone else’s art apart will not help. Your skill and immaturity are the reasons why your art isn’t good. Imitation is flattery, but carbon copies are a dime a dozen.
I had someone who had me under their wing because of certain circumstances challenge me, literally. Firstly…she lied about reading my work. She then said “our company.” No, my company. I paid for it. I worked my ass off to get to this point.
Then she attempted to argue with me about known research and facts.
This is the price of fame?
I understand what my dream meant. This is going to be an everyday struggle. Even if I fell off and never made more artwork or wrote another book…it’ll always be what you think I owe you. I don’t owe anyone shit.
Why so vindictive you’ll ask? I’m sick of busting my ass and looking at unweathered hands, grabbing at my hard work and success. I’m tired of people comparing their garbage to my gold. 
Most of all…I’m tired of people acting as if things should be handed to them because they know me.
No soup for you.

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