Queen Michael said:
My brother once called me a reader of Rob Liefeld comics. I tried to defend myself by pointing out that they were written by Alan Moore, but it still stung.
I used to make fun of Rob Liefeld myself, but stopped doing that after I got into dealing with the comic community from the creator side. Rob might not be the best artist, but that's no excuse to bad mouth his content because somewhere there are people who absolutely love his stuff having grew up with his style in the 90s. Rob is not for everyone, but I'll take his ridiculous style and strange proportions over say, Greg Land's outright tracing.
Anyways, it's tough being Rob Liefeld now, even though you can see him trying to get better ( he's been drawing feet lately) no one takes him seriously, and DC's been putting him on projects right before they plan to cancel them anyways meaning a lot of the content he's been attempting to lead is doomed before he even goes to sit at the desk. Can you imagine what it's like being the grim reaper of an industry you love and helped build up?
-----------
That actually brings me to the topic actually, my father was a mechanic. He knew cars intimately, but that was the breath and scope of his world. When I was born all he wanted was for me to take up the skills he had, and when it turned out that my interests laid in art he became disappointed and walled off. He never understood what I did for a living til a year or so before he died, meaning I spent my life with him disappointed in me. A childhood of being called lazy and worthless because I didn't care to build cars ( or even much have interest in learning to drive) was what I got to enjoy because all he saw was me in my room at my desk. He though that I was wasting my time, that my skills didn't have real world merit, and not knowing how to work a trade meant I'll always be a laborer. Thought at times he tried, trying to push me to get into newspaper comics or draw for car magazines because he understood them. He'd refer to me as the next Ed Roth to his friends because it beat "the kid watches cartoons and doodles all day".
I left home very early, angry at him for not understanding me.
He met what would be my wife once a few years ago, where I showed him what I've worked on and the empire I've built. I thought I was getting my vengeance then, my time to shine where I showed him that he was wrong. I guess I did, but he died a month later, so it didn't really matter.
You can let the insults of others define you, using them to wall off yourself and get hard. You can let them fuel you to be better, or forgive them completely and move on without those chains around your throat. I know which path I took. I hope others find themselves better then my choices....