Wednesday, November 25, 2009


well like i said, it's something... i just needed to do a painting. so i did. sadly, my brain made a direct jump to phil hale, who, while awesome, is not me. regardless, this is the image i am working on, so far two hours in the making. it's gonna be link. and hopefully it will be more me and less hale soon. meh.

Sunday, November 22, 2009


It is a blessing and a curse to have lots of ideas. It feels wrong to say something cliche when you are trying to express originality... meh. This is, however, true.

I feel pulled in three directions at once, always thinking of something new and exciting while in the middle of another project. This causes me to get bored halfway through all of my work. Unless I finish that work really, really fast. Which I don't, these days.

Poems, stories, drawings, paintings, some days I feel so full of it all that I don't do anything at all. Those days I really feel like I'm full of "it." So after weeks of doing nothing (except work on the whole car fiasco that will define my 22nd year), I declare the beginning of...! Something. Maybe narrated illustration animations, storyboard style. Maybe illustrated poems (don't even say the name Shel Silverstien). It really doesn't matter. What does matter is that I do something.

And so I am telling you. All of you who may have actually stopped reading, what with my lack of postings. I am telling you because if I tell no one then I will let myself down. Tomorrow, I will present to you the beginning of Something. And it will be grand. Or at the very least, much more grand than the more recent of my posts. Which have been understandably ungrand.

Post angrily if I don't. Because if you let me by this time, I'll just act out more. You know how children are.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Trial and tribulation

I don't have problems. Me saying I have problems is like saying I'm going hungry when my belly growls. Plenty more people have it plenty worse than I. But to say that I've enrolled in the school of hard knocks, and my recent grades were shiny "D's" for dumbass, that might just be accurate.

I hit a guardrail going 45 mpg. This is not some fuzzy metaphor, I just did it. I didn't do it on purpose, mind you. That is, butterfly effect style, why I feel so whittled now. Like a sad little block of wood that was going to be a pipe or something cool if the carver had stopped earlier. That was a metaphor; I am not a block of wood, whittled or otherwise.

So now every once in a while I look around and am tempted to think, damn, this is rough. But I have an apartment and food, sometimes a car, and all the minimum luxuries afforded the entertainment-run American regular. I even have a job, for what it's worth. I work at Jo-annes.

Yes I wear an apron at work, and yes I work with a majority older generation. But I am in the framing department, dammit. Plus, I'm super popular with the more experienced denizens (see that euphemism? not hard to see why, is it?), I got called a tall glass of water by an eighty-year old woman the other day.

I don't have much money, I have even less idea of where my future lies, and I can't imagine the steps I need to take to get to my dreams. Other than sleep. Which I do. Which is one up on some. Did you hear my stomach that time? If you'll excuse me, I've got to go take my lumps.