500 uploads.
This one the peak.
I've updated this gallery for 3 1/2 years now, beginning 4/20 (before that meme was a thing, honestly) and stopping for a breath (as if I didn't take a week off already, hah ^_^; ) here on the 12th of the 12th. Meaningless dates, I know, but fun, and that's the actual point of these endeavors.
Maybe. It IS fun doing this, listening to good music and setting aside an hour or two (or more depending on distractions and difficulties) to come up with dumb titles and silly remixes to the usual compliments and observations on these cute-scary-gorgeous-vulnerable-fantasy-yet-extant creatures. I'm even coming up on the end of my massive music playlist - repeating through Caravan Palace's Tattoos, Russian, Clash and Aftermath (I've been on a binge of those last two!) to delay my visit to an old friend I left for some time. The calm of night, not just its early winter darkness, has fallen, and maybe all that's why I feel so wistful and warm (and dramatic)~
Ah, but I'm getting sidetracked. Yes, it's fun, writing and digging and arranging. But there's more, I know - I do lots for my own amusement and enjoyment, some more productive than others, but I still feel this strange pull to share, share, share it all - why those long-deleted fetish fics were written with grammar and structure in mind, why I write my journal entries to some vacuous /you/, why I've wanted to make a Let's Play for years. Why I make status updates of nothing in particular, why I categorize avatars and thoughts and fears to share with that same smoky /you/, why I throw every piece of myself to /you/ who I have to trust is close, no matter my regrets.
Why.
Is it worth it? Well, who's to know? I'm all together, not leaking emotion and desire at the seams as much as I once did. I've thrown enough at the wall that some of it has stuck for people. And I'll keep going, into that Ryoshima Coast future still left to me, to see how much really meant something. c:
