Keenan,
My name is Scott and I've got it bad: i'm a bowmakin' fool and i can't think of nothing else. I don't have a proper workshop, so when I wake up it's to the site of a 6x8 tarp spread on my bedroom floor with bowforms, glues, clamps, inner tube straps, a bench plane, and right now, two giant hunks of yew. I wake, make coffee, and carry my tools out to my makeshift bench under the landlord's deck. Then I spend several hours cutting, sanding, rasping, shaving, dreaming, imagining, testing, flexing, cleaning up shavings and dust, measuring...
i spend money on wood and glue when I should buy new pants and shoes because my clothes are reverting to a primitive state. Soon my toes'll be poking out, but hey, it's gonna be summer soon: who cares? And when the knees on these jeans go: shorts, no problem. I look for work but say, "I can't start til the day after tomorrow..." i spend too much time on the computer reading about bows, how they're made, checking out other people's failures and mistakes...women call me and send me messages, they say, "YOu're so hot, you got it goin on!" I'm like, "Whatever, I'm busy..."
But i'm cool with it. I like making bows...beats drinking all the time!