Perhaps there’s not as much difference as there appears to be.
Probably not: I always found my work to have a certain poetic elegance to it, even when I hate it. It may be some kind of borderline autism or something I have long suspected I have, but the simple beauty of geometric patterns, coordination of materials and colors, the management of space and light into habitable boxes, things like this I find as beautiful as any symphony.
I only have the word-skills I do from a childhood of being a social flop and something of a recluse with my nose buried in books, and from this I gained an appreciation of the beauty and majesty of well-arranged language that is not so very different from what I love about well-arranged materials and spaces.
Plus, this pastime has the added benefit of allowing me an outlet of using this particular language at a level I know how to and enjoy. I find myself constantly watering down my loquatic propensities while meeting with clients or chatting with neighbors, not that these folks are ignorant but just that flowery language raises certain suspicions in these parts. So online I get to use a more lofty vernacular if I feel like it, sort of to get it out of my system.