I haven’t drawn in ages. Let me clarify. It’s not like I haven’t drawn anything recently, I draw doodles and thumbnails of things all the time. I’m a designer and a lot of my ideas come out in tiny visual sketches. But those are all documentary and explanatory drawings. I haven’t sat down and sketched anything purely for the sake of drawing in ages. Wanting to break the long famine of purely exploratory sketching, today I set out to do some pen drawings.

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A good personal business card or visiting card is an invaluable thing to have. If your a designer, writer or independent weirdo of any sort, I’d say it’s absolutely essential. Whether you like it or not, telling most people you’re a freelance anything is tantamount to telling them you are jobless and destitute. The number of people who reply to “I freelance” with a sympathetic “That’s ok” is not funny.

Hand them a business card and maybe they won’t give you unsolicited career advice, and maybe actually remember you. In case you haven’t realised it yet, most people don’t remember you for ‘you’, they just remember what job you’re in. You’re usually that guy who works for XYZ, or that girl who’s into ABC. So, that guy who’s jobless is unlikely to stick. I don’t make these rules, I just read them as I see them.

When I started freelancing I was still studying. Most work came in through direct personal contacts, for whom business cards were unnecessary. As I started working with friends of friends, the need became more apparent. Thankfully, one of my final year classes was about the professional practice of design, and creating your own business card was one of the projects. That’s how I ended up with my very first personal business card.

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Since when did everyone expect to get paid to be nice and do the right thing? Look around you, it’s happening as we speak. It’s not new, of course, it’s been going on a for a while. Right from the beginning of time, religion has been promising you good karma, a luxurious after-life with an attached bath, or at least a favourable promotion in the next life as compensation for being nice. That was all fine and good in a slightly abstract way, but the moment doing the right thing started to become worth your while in cold hard cash, we were doomed.

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The whole world is out to get you. All the signs are there. You never get a lucky break. People always treat you like dirt. And the few people who are nice? They’re after something, obviously. Everyone else is on a life-long personal vendetta to make your existence slightly more unpleasant: the people at the bank, your boss, politicians, that team you support who always loses just to spite you, and random children & animals who insist on walking in front of you when you’re so busy mulling the sorry state of the world.

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