Have you ever realized how email programs, blogs, and basically anything with a box for a body of text has a subject line above that field? I'm starting to question the nature of that. What if we don't know exactly what we're going to write? How do we name the work as a whole? Most often, I just end up putting something generic, like "hi" or "thoughts". But that's pretty lame, even when you don't stop to consider it.
So I've been doing things differently recently. Instead of fudging around for something clever but still broad enough to cover anything I might write, I've been filling that big box with my content, then deciding how I'll label it.
It's interesting how we try to pigeonhole these things into certain categories before we even start work on them. You can ask any kid what they want to be when they grow up, and they'll likely have and answer for you. When you look back in on their lives later on, how many do you think do what they say they were going to back when you first posed that question to them?
And yet they still tried to predict where they'd be. Maybe they did what they could to predict where they were going to live, how their house would look. Maybe they decided they were going to have three kids. Maybe they decided they were going to marry a doctor, or the sexy nurse. And maybe the next day, they played their first video game and were so awestruck that they decided they wanted to make video games. Screw the plans they laid out before.
And like that, the categories they had all set up for their life have changed in an instant. Or maybe it wasn't an instant, maybe it was a gradual decision to rearrange their life, but they still end up in different slots after a little bit of time. And then the old things they believed in are completely gone, never to be more than a faint echo of laughter on the back of their minds. How silly it was, a future like that. How silly, given the present. Now our futures are so much more clear cut than back then.
Or are they? I may be dead tomorrow. I may win the lottery tomorrow. I may get struck with the inspiration to write some fantastic triumph of independent poetry tomorrow. Or maybe I just get diarrhea and add Immodium to my grocery list. There goes another $3.
The one thing I've learned about life is that I know absolutely nothing about how anything is going to pan out. Not in a day, not in the next two seconds. There are times when I can make predictions with a great deal of certainty, especially in the video game industry, but that's about it.
And somehow, when I think I've mastered the minutia, something always jars me. rarely in a way I would expect, never in a way I would have hoped. Sometimes it's a good thing, sometimes it's a bad thing.
But I never label it as either until I've seen the consequences of it pan out.
Monday, October 27
Saturday, October 25
Frustration
In my new world order, I'm going to kill the ones who don't realize I'm being sarcastic when I say I'm going to kill the ones who don't realize I'm being sarcastic.
Monday, October 20
Evernote
I have downloaded a program called Evernote to my Mac and my iPod. It promises to unify your notes by storing them on a server and then pulling them down wherever you are via either an onboard client or by an HTML connection. It might just supplant Notes on my iPod as my main writing blogging tool.
Anyway, a unified platform is good. It ensures that anything I write will be with me wherever I go. Of course, as long as I keep the uploads under 40 MB a month.
Anyway, a unified platform is good. It ensures that anything I write will be with me wherever I go. Of course, as long as I keep the uploads under 40 MB a month.
Wednesday, September 24
Diagram of a Vis Lit assignment
GQ magazine cover step one:
Get the photo taken.
GQ magazine cover step two:
Get a magazine cover to rip elements from.
GQ magazine cover step three:
Merge the elements.
GQ magazine cover step four: find a similar font to the one on the cover. Find this instead:
GQ magazine cover step five:
Lose all sense of intelligent reasoning.
Get the photo taken.
GQ magazine cover step two:
Get a magazine cover to rip elements from.
GQ magazine cover step three:
Merge the elements.
GQ magazine cover step four: find a similar font to the one on the cover. Find this instead:
GQ magazine cover step five:
Lose all sense of intelligent reasoning.
Thursday, September 11
mini-thought
When I was in elementary school, we'd always play Heads Up, Seven Up when the teacher ran out of real stuff for us to do. In hindsight, people guessed pretty accurately when I touched their thumb.
I wonder how they always knew it was me.
I wonder how they always knew it was me.
Friday, August 15
It needs a name...
Its last name was Carla, as per the commandeering of my mom, but I consider that to be too spicy of a name for a car so... beige. I want something that fits, but that simultaneously doesn't sound gay.
The gauntlet has been thrown down. Suggestions NOW!
Tuesday, August 12
More loving family matters
I'm awake, checking my email and reading some of the articles on C|NET and IGN. Madden '09 looks pretty cool, and apparently there's an Internet security application being offered for free by ZoneAlarm for today only. The ZoneAlarm product has an ad attached to it that looks oddly familiar. Suddenly, I realize that I'm freakishly hungry, and so I close Safari and head downstairs to get some Cookie Crisp.
Unbeknownst to me, there was about to be a convergence of three unrelated events: My dad was heading up to the family computer, I was heading down to the kitchen, and some guy was coming up to our front door. My dad and I reached the foot of the stairs at the same time random guy got to the door.
Coincidence? My dad thinks not! As the dogs bark like idiots, my dad stands in my way, stares at me, and throws, "Expecting somebody?" at me.
What I should have said as I walked into the kitchen: "Yeah. Could you check and see if that's my meth and porn shipment?"
What I actually said as I walked into the kitchen: "No."
I poured myself a bowl of Cookie Crisp, and got myself a spoon. When my dad gets back downstairs, I ask him, "How would I have known that anybody was at the door?" He responds with, "I don't know. Called?" "Nope. I just came down to get some cereal."
Just four more days, just four more days, just four more days...
Unbeknownst to me, there was about to be a convergence of three unrelated events: My dad was heading up to the family computer, I was heading down to the kitchen, and some guy was coming up to our front door. My dad and I reached the foot of the stairs at the same time random guy got to the door.
Coincidence? My dad thinks not! As the dogs bark like idiots, my dad stands in my way, stares at me, and throws, "Expecting somebody?" at me.
What I should have said as I walked into the kitchen: "Yeah. Could you check and see if that's my meth and porn shipment?"
What I actually said as I walked into the kitchen: "No."
I poured myself a bowl of Cookie Crisp, and got myself a spoon. When my dad gets back downstairs, I ask him, "How would I have known that anybody was at the door?" He responds with, "I don't know. Called?" "Nope. I just came down to get some cereal."
Just four more days, just four more days, just four more days...
Sunday, August 10
Why I'd still use Creative products if I were on Windows
You can't deny it. This thing is beautiful in a way that completely defies the current trend of so-called one-piece construction. It's instantly eye-popping and has features that take it beyond the iPod Nano, including a built-in speaker, built-in microphone and built-in radio. The 4 GB model will run you $79.99, which is just a little over half of what a 4 GB Nano would run you.
More features and a boldly different design for half the price. Creative Labs clearly wants to shake things up.
Wednesday, August 6
Dreams
Any interpretations on this one would be appreciated.
Two nights ago, I dreamt that I was with my mom's relatives, and we were getting ready to go to this safari park. It was morning, so I hadn't showered by this point, so I go toward the bathroom and the door is open. Unfortunately for me, that doesn't mean that my cousin Paul isn't in there. He apparently didn't feel like closing the door before he got on the toilet. After deciding not to shower after all, I walk into the kitchen to find the world's smallest hamster, able to fit on a single finger. As it turns out, the incredibly tiny fluff ball is also great at climbing. When I set it down it began to vertically scale linoleum tile.
Then we go to the safari, which happens to also be an archery range. Most of the archers seem to be terrible at the sport, as arrows are flying and landing everywhere. We walk through the park (it's a lot more like a park than a jungle or savannah) and finally come to a point where across a lake and through a thicket, we can see this pack of giant moose. They're each at least two stories tall, and they're just grazing. Suddenly, from our right, an even bigger muskrat - no smaller than three stories tall - runs up and starts barking at the giant moose. I start feeling my pockets for my camera, then realize that I don't have it and I turn to the people behind me and ask them if they have it. Turns out somebody does, and they hand it back to me, upset about the fact that their own camera got lost. I promise the guy that I'll email him all the photos, and then another guy says that that won't be necessary and hands the both of us 6 GB compact flash cards. I have no clue what to do with this, since my camera takes SD cards. Then we continue to walk into a more science lab setting, and everyone begins to sing a patriotic song I've never heard before (this happens to me in dreams sometimes. I'll hear music I've never heard before) and at one point in the song everyone stops walking and just hugs the nearest person. I reach out for somebody, but everyone's already hugging somebody else.
Then the bell rings and it's time for me to go to my biochem class. The professor is at the board writing down everyone's name for the first day of class, and he tells us that if at any time we find the course too daunting, we can get up, walk to our name, cross it off, and write the time at which we left the class. He launches questions at us, and puts regulations on where we can sit based on how likely we are to help others figure out the answers to things in class. I need this class, because I only have 15 credit hours and dropping it would put my full-time student status in jeopardy, so I resolve to do well in it. At the end of the class, we start watching a video of people bowling in their swimming suits, which is somehow supposed to illustrate the differences in genetic disposition toward body types.
Suggestions as to what this might mean?
Two nights ago, I dreamt that I was with my mom's relatives, and we were getting ready to go to this safari park. It was morning, so I hadn't showered by this point, so I go toward the bathroom and the door is open. Unfortunately for me, that doesn't mean that my cousin Paul isn't in there. He apparently didn't feel like closing the door before he got on the toilet. After deciding not to shower after all, I walk into the kitchen to find the world's smallest hamster, able to fit on a single finger. As it turns out, the incredibly tiny fluff ball is also great at climbing. When I set it down it began to vertically scale linoleum tile.
Then we go to the safari, which happens to also be an archery range. Most of the archers seem to be terrible at the sport, as arrows are flying and landing everywhere. We walk through the park (it's a lot more like a park than a jungle or savannah) and finally come to a point where across a lake and through a thicket, we can see this pack of giant moose. They're each at least two stories tall, and they're just grazing. Suddenly, from our right, an even bigger muskrat - no smaller than three stories tall - runs up and starts barking at the giant moose. I start feeling my pockets for my camera, then realize that I don't have it and I turn to the people behind me and ask them if they have it. Turns out somebody does, and they hand it back to me, upset about the fact that their own camera got lost. I promise the guy that I'll email him all the photos, and then another guy says that that won't be necessary and hands the both of us 6 GB compact flash cards. I have no clue what to do with this, since my camera takes SD cards. Then we continue to walk into a more science lab setting, and everyone begins to sing a patriotic song I've never heard before (this happens to me in dreams sometimes. I'll hear music I've never heard before) and at one point in the song everyone stops walking and just hugs the nearest person. I reach out for somebody, but everyone's already hugging somebody else.
Then the bell rings and it's time for me to go to my biochem class. The professor is at the board writing down everyone's name for the first day of class, and he tells us that if at any time we find the course too daunting, we can get up, walk to our name, cross it off, and write the time at which we left the class. He launches questions at us, and puts regulations on where we can sit based on how likely we are to help others figure out the answers to things in class. I need this class, because I only have 15 credit hours and dropping it would put my full-time student status in jeopardy, so I resolve to do well in it. At the end of the class, we start watching a video of people bowling in their swimming suits, which is somehow supposed to illustrate the differences in genetic disposition toward body types.
Suggestions as to what this might mean?
Friday, August 1
Recent Weeks
I went to bed before midnight on the 13th because I knew that it would be easier to avoid eating that way. That didn't make sleeping that night any easier, though; maybe it was the idea that I was having surgery the next day, maybe it was simple insomnia (I seem to be having a lot of that this summer) or maybe it was secret government radio waves beaming directly into my head the best hits of the '60s, '70s and '80s, I'll never know. The point is that I didn't sleep too well that night.
My splenectomy was scheduled for 10:30 on Monday, which meant that we had to arrive at the hospital around 8:30. Thanks to the aforementioned uneasy sleep, it wasn't a problem waking up early enough to make this happen. The waiting room was agonizing thanks in large part to the incredibly loud TV blasting The Early Show into every corner of the room. There was a competition to see who could best sing the Star-Spangled Banner and everyone who was competing (at least when we got there) made me wish I could leap out of my skin and just lay on the floor in a heap of organ, tissue and bone.
When we were finally taken into the pre-op area, I stripped out of my clothes and into a gown that felt suspiciously like paper. I didn't really want the TV on, but my dad insisted to watch something, so instead of ESPN I opted for MADtv. I would have honestly rather watched nothing, but it wasn't that kind of deal. Various nurses, specialists, and needles came in to prod me with questions, thermometers, names, blood pressure thingies and blood samples, but I saw the surgeon at noon sharp. I don't remember being wheeled to the OR, or even being in the OR at all except for the anesthesia mask they put on me. The next hazy memory I have was drowsily speaking to somebody as they inserted my catheter, and then I was in my recovery room.
The basic timeline escapes me, but the important things went like this: Monday was the most uncomfortable day for me because I still had a lot of gas in my torso from the surgery. I was given a morphine drip, but the amount I could administer for myself was generally too small to make an impact on the pain in my stomach. Late that night, I finally couldn't stand the pain any longer and I asked a nurse to let me up so that I could walk around my bed for a bit. Either that or the pain pill she gave me helped a lot. Recovery was basically that same run-around over and over: pain pills, getting up to walk around from time to time, and struggling to eat. I would have left the hospital on Tuesday or Wednesday, but the doctors were concerned about how low my hemoglobin count was, and up until I was released it was looking more and more likely that I'd need a transfusion. Fortunately, that didn't happen.
While I was in the hospital, my parents visited every day. That wasn't really too comforting or helpful to me, since they would simply do their own thing and I would either sleep or watch TV. I guess we didn't really have anything to say. My brother was a different story, though. He came to visit me on the first night along with Melissa, then again on the second night which is when they brought me Batman: Gotham Knight on DVD (a collection of animé shorts which I highly recommend to any fans of Batman or of animé), but Melissa was getting a migraine that night, so my brother came back a couple nights later and we watched the DVD together then.
I had vowed not to miss an episode of Avatar that week, because it was Nickelodeon's big push to the end of the series. Every night at 7:00, I had my TV on, and when I got out of the hospital on Friday I still watched it. By the end of the series on Saturday, I felt so amazed at the shape the TV show had taken: from being another action show three years ago to developing a strong, complicated plot where everybody had ambition and purpose behind what they were doing. Every time something like that happens, I go back in my mind to how things were when it began. I was a senior in high school... even in the pain of that year, things seemed a lot simpler back then.
The following week was painful. I still wasn't able to eat very well, and sleep only came to me in bursts when I took a hydrocodone, which I ran out of before the 25th. My dad informed me that I still had oxycodone from when I had my gall bladder out last year, but given the strength of that drug and the number of pills I had left of it, I decided that I wouldn't use it during the day, and that I'd only take one after trying to get to sleep and being unable to from pain. I had a few of those nights afterward, but the pain kept coming later in the night until it would hit at 5:00 AM. That abated too, but I still wake up every day at five in the morning before going back to sleep for a few more hours. I have no clue when to expect my first uninterrupted night of sleep, but with any luck it'll come soon. I've been slowly losing sleep for nearly three weeks now.
I decided early on while I was home that I should try to sing again. My reasoning, beyond obviously liking to sing, was that the doctors gave me a special tool to exercise my lungs by encouraging me to take deep breaths; I figured that since singing is one of the most demanding non-aerobic things your lungs can do, it would help get my lung capacity back to normal more quickly. This was how I discovered arguably the weirdest thing about this recovery: I cry when I sing anything that's even slightly sad. I haven't tried singing "Hallelujah" by John Cale yet. If "Dizzy" and "Cautioners" by Jimmy Eat World and "That's What You Get" by Paramore make me sob, I don't think I could even get through one verse of "Hallelujah." A friend of mine said that in some part of the world, the spleen is associated with melancholy. I'd say it's probably the lack thereof that's associated with it.
My splenectomy was scheduled for 10:30 on Monday, which meant that we had to arrive at the hospital around 8:30. Thanks to the aforementioned uneasy sleep, it wasn't a problem waking up early enough to make this happen. The waiting room was agonizing thanks in large part to the incredibly loud TV blasting The Early Show into every corner of the room. There was a competition to see who could best sing the Star-Spangled Banner and everyone who was competing (at least when we got there) made me wish I could leap out of my skin and just lay on the floor in a heap of organ, tissue and bone.
When we were finally taken into the pre-op area, I stripped out of my clothes and into a gown that felt suspiciously like paper. I didn't really want the TV on, but my dad insisted to watch something, so instead of ESPN I opted for MADtv. I would have honestly rather watched nothing, but it wasn't that kind of deal. Various nurses, specialists, and needles came in to prod me with questions, thermometers, names, blood pressure thingies and blood samples, but I saw the surgeon at noon sharp. I don't remember being wheeled to the OR, or even being in the OR at all except for the anesthesia mask they put on me. The next hazy memory I have was drowsily speaking to somebody as they inserted my catheter, and then I was in my recovery room.
The basic timeline escapes me, but the important things went like this: Monday was the most uncomfortable day for me because I still had a lot of gas in my torso from the surgery. I was given a morphine drip, but the amount I could administer for myself was generally too small to make an impact on the pain in my stomach. Late that night, I finally couldn't stand the pain any longer and I asked a nurse to let me up so that I could walk around my bed for a bit. Either that or the pain pill she gave me helped a lot. Recovery was basically that same run-around over and over: pain pills, getting up to walk around from time to time, and struggling to eat. I would have left the hospital on Tuesday or Wednesday, but the doctors were concerned about how low my hemoglobin count was, and up until I was released it was looking more and more likely that I'd need a transfusion. Fortunately, that didn't happen.
While I was in the hospital, my parents visited every day. That wasn't really too comforting or helpful to me, since they would simply do their own thing and I would either sleep or watch TV. I guess we didn't really have anything to say. My brother was a different story, though. He came to visit me on the first night along with Melissa, then again on the second night which is when they brought me Batman: Gotham Knight on DVD (a collection of animé shorts which I highly recommend to any fans of Batman or of animé), but Melissa was getting a migraine that night, so my brother came back a couple nights later and we watched the DVD together then.
I had vowed not to miss an episode of Avatar that week, because it was Nickelodeon's big push to the end of the series. Every night at 7:00, I had my TV on, and when I got out of the hospital on Friday I still watched it. By the end of the series on Saturday, I felt so amazed at the shape the TV show had taken: from being another action show three years ago to developing a strong, complicated plot where everybody had ambition and purpose behind what they were doing. Every time something like that happens, I go back in my mind to how things were when it began. I was a senior in high school... even in the pain of that year, things seemed a lot simpler back then.
The following week was painful. I still wasn't able to eat very well, and sleep only came to me in bursts when I took a hydrocodone, which I ran out of before the 25th. My dad informed me that I still had oxycodone from when I had my gall bladder out last year, but given the strength of that drug and the number of pills I had left of it, I decided that I wouldn't use it during the day, and that I'd only take one after trying to get to sleep and being unable to from pain. I had a few of those nights afterward, but the pain kept coming later in the night until it would hit at 5:00 AM. That abated too, but I still wake up every day at five in the morning before going back to sleep for a few more hours. I have no clue when to expect my first uninterrupted night of sleep, but with any luck it'll come soon. I've been slowly losing sleep for nearly three weeks now.
I decided early on while I was home that I should try to sing again. My reasoning, beyond obviously liking to sing, was that the doctors gave me a special tool to exercise my lungs by encouraging me to take deep breaths; I figured that since singing is one of the most demanding non-aerobic things your lungs can do, it would help get my lung capacity back to normal more quickly. This was how I discovered arguably the weirdest thing about this recovery: I cry when I sing anything that's even slightly sad. I haven't tried singing "Hallelujah" by John Cale yet. If "Dizzy" and "Cautioners" by Jimmy Eat World and "That's What You Get" by Paramore make me sob, I don't think I could even get through one verse of "Hallelujah." A friend of mine said that in some part of the world, the spleen is associated with melancholy. I'd say it's probably the lack thereof that's associated with it.
Wednesday, July 9
Progress report
It's not done yet, but it's coming along. I need to put highlights and shadows on it, and then it'll be good.
Tuesday, July 8
Quotes on love
"Everyone is broken apart, inexperienced and incomplete. However, by living as such, we may change for the better into something bigger... something more gentle."
-Riddel, Chrono Cross
"A scattered dream that's like a far off memory...
A far off memory that's like a scattered dream...
I wanna line the pieces up.
Yours and mine."
-Sora, Kingdom Hearts
"Death cannot stop true love; only delay it for a little while."
-Westley, The Princess Bride
"(paraphrase) Voldemort sought power, but in doing so he abandoned the most powerful force in the world: love."
-Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
-Riddel, Chrono Cross
"A scattered dream that's like a far off memory...
A far off memory that's like a scattered dream...
I wanna line the pieces up.
Yours and mine."
-Sora, Kingdom Hearts
"Death cannot stop true love; only delay it for a little while."
-Westley, The Princess Bride
"(paraphrase) Voldemort sought power, but in doing so he abandoned the most powerful force in the world: love."
-Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
Miscellaneous quotes
"That's now most none private schools are."
-Chet
"Of all the effing wastes of time with which I could be wasting my time..."
-Myself
"TVs just keep getting smaller and smaller, and bigger and bigger. Soon the medium TV will be a thing of the past."
-Dale Gribble
"Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so."
-Douglas Adams
-Chet
"Of all the effing wastes of time with which I could be wasting my time..."
-Myself
"TVs just keep getting smaller and smaller, and bigger and bigger. Soon the medium TV will be a thing of the past."
-Dale Gribble
"Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so."
-Douglas Adams
Quotes on individuality
"If I could do it all over again, I would have done it knowing that after you graduate, nobody gives a damn what your GPA was."
-Michael, The Last Kiss
"That you may retain your self-respect, it is better to displease the people by doing what you know is right, than to temporarily please them by doing what you know is wrong."
- William JH Boetcker
"Every saint has a past, every sinner has a future."
-Ludo
"The minute you accept that you're different is the minute you become normal."
-Brad, Almost Normal
"Without free will, there is no difference between submission and rebellion."
-Metal Gear Solid
"Just because you have their attention doesn't mean you have their respect."
-Dale, King of the Hill
"I gotta take a stand. I'm bullshit. I put up with everything. My old man pushes me around, I never say anything. Well, he's not the problem. I'm the problem. I gotta take a stand. I gotta take a stand against him. I am not gonna sit on my ass as the events that affect me unfold to determine the course of my life. I'm gonna defend it. Right or wrong, I'm gonna defend it."
-Cameron, Ferris Bueller's Day Off
-Michael, The Last Kiss
"That you may retain your self-respect, it is better to displease the people by doing what you know is right, than to temporarily please them by doing what you know is wrong."
- William JH Boetcker
"Every saint has a past, every sinner has a future."
-Ludo
"The minute you accept that you're different is the minute you become normal."
-Brad, Almost Normal
"Without free will, there is no difference between submission and rebellion."
-Metal Gear Solid
"Just because you have their attention doesn't mean you have their respect."
-Dale, King of the Hill
"I gotta take a stand. I'm bullshit. I put up with everything. My old man pushes me around, I never say anything. Well, he's not the problem. I'm the problem. I gotta take a stand. I gotta take a stand against him. I am not gonna sit on my ass as the events that affect me unfold to determine the course of my life. I'm gonna defend it. Right or wrong, I'm gonna defend it."
-Cameron, Ferris Bueller's Day Off
Monday, July 7
Productivity(?)
This summer's been a bust. I found a job in the first two weeks, but that turned out not to work when I failed certification (for waiting tables) and wasn't offered a chance at redemption. Luckily, I got a check for the twenty hours of training I was put through. Unluckily, I was only paid for two and a half of those hours, which means I only made $14.
I'm getting my spleen out in a week, provided the military HMO grants us their permission and gets us in for a pre-op physical. Knowing the military, this is a longshot. If it happens, however, I'll be the proud disowner of one spleen. Recovery is going to be a week long, which means I won't be able to take any walks or bungee jump for a little while. It's okay, though. I never take walks.
I've been playing video games for most of my summertime bores, but for some reason I've been on a drawing kick recently. Seriously, don't ask me why because I don't quite know myself. I made some crude attempts at drawing a Growlithe, I ended up drawing a sword from just making lines on a piece of paper, then drew a face with a micro-line technique that seems to work pretty well for me, and then I drew this:
I used the same micro-line technique I did for the last drawing I did, which was harder since I drew Klonoa on a much smaller scale. You can see a lot of erasure marks, but those can be cleaned up in Gimp when I start to color him.
I'm getting my spleen out in a week, provided the military HMO grants us their permission and gets us in for a pre-op physical. Knowing the military, this is a longshot. If it happens, however, I'll be the proud disowner of one spleen. Recovery is going to be a week long, which means I won't be able to take any walks or bungee jump for a little while. It's okay, though. I never take walks.
I've been playing video games for most of my summertime bores, but for some reason I've been on a drawing kick recently. Seriously, don't ask me why because I don't quite know myself. I made some crude attempts at drawing a Growlithe, I ended up drawing a sword from just making lines on a piece of paper, then drew a face with a micro-line technique that seems to work pretty well for me, and then I drew this:
I used the same micro-line technique I did for the last drawing I did, which was harder since I drew Klonoa on a much smaller scale. You can see a lot of erasure marks, but those can be cleaned up in Gimp when I start to color him.
Friday, June 27
Dreams
I had a dream this morning where my sister was on a show like American Idol as one of the top 10 contestants, and they had this song marathon thing where each person had to sing four songs in a row before they got to take a break, and the last song my sister sang was "Boys of Summer," and just as she finished up and was about to be told how she did by the judges, Fox just cut out.
Then I was going to tell my friends about it, and they were all playing mini-golf at the Jewish community center, and the older Jewish people there were really upset because my friends were eating their potato chips because my friends aren't Jewish, so they were dumping potato chips on the putting greens so that my friends couldn't keep playing.
I said that my friends had a right to be playing mini-golf because they paid to be there, and the Jewish people were just yelling things, and so I started talking to them calmly and an older man got into an argument with my friend Jess (who looked like Carla from Scrubs for some reason, which is odd because Jess is a short redhead), and I stepped in to defend her and said that the church is about community and love and celebrating life, and the old man said that his church had given him something much better than celebrating life: celebrating death. I yelled "What about life AFTER death!" at him and he started screaming the Lord's Prayer (why, I don't know. He was Jewish), and in the middle of it he bowed down on the ground toward the church and sort of sobbed the rest of the prayer, and so I bowed down beside him and finished the prayer with him.
When he was done, he got up and walked back inside, and I started walking away, turned toward Jess, and said, "Come on. Come on, it's over." I think she said something about how he was wrong, and that we had to stay, and I said, "There's nothing that will change his mind short of himself. Whether or not he ever discovers that he's wrong isn't up to us. Now come on."
It's interesting how your dreams can teach you lessons you should already know. I hope that the old man doesn't regret being so afraid of death that he never opted to live, but it's hard for me to believe that he wouldn't feel as though he missed out. If he does, then that will be very sad for him, but I can only tell him what I think of life; he's the one who has to make the choice to live.
Then I was going to tell my friends about it, and they were all playing mini-golf at the Jewish community center, and the older Jewish people there were really upset because my friends were eating their potato chips because my friends aren't Jewish, so they were dumping potato chips on the putting greens so that my friends couldn't keep playing.
I said that my friends had a right to be playing mini-golf because they paid to be there, and the Jewish people were just yelling things, and so I started talking to them calmly and an older man got into an argument with my friend Jess (who looked like Carla from Scrubs for some reason, which is odd because Jess is a short redhead), and I stepped in to defend her and said that the church is about community and love and celebrating life, and the old man said that his church had given him something much better than celebrating life: celebrating death. I yelled "What about life AFTER death!" at him and he started screaming the Lord's Prayer (why, I don't know. He was Jewish), and in the middle of it he bowed down on the ground toward the church and sort of sobbed the rest of the prayer, and so I bowed down beside him and finished the prayer with him.
When he was done, he got up and walked back inside, and I started walking away, turned toward Jess, and said, "Come on. Come on, it's over." I think she said something about how he was wrong, and that we had to stay, and I said, "There's nothing that will change his mind short of himself. Whether or not he ever discovers that he's wrong isn't up to us. Now come on."
It's interesting how your dreams can teach you lessons you should already know. I hope that the old man doesn't regret being so afraid of death that he never opted to live, but it's hard for me to believe that he wouldn't feel as though he missed out. If he does, then that will be very sad for him, but I can only tell him what I think of life; he's the one who has to make the choice to live.
Saturday, June 21
What grates me about summer
One of my friends told me last night that a bunch of his friends had snagged the key to his campus's dorms and that they were going to spend the night there instead of in their apartments. Another one of my friends is spending his days helping his mother and my old drama teacher with their theatre camp for children. Another one of my friends is spending the summer as a counselor at a Boy Scout camp in Iowa. My sister is spending the summer working and hanging out with friends.
I had the chance at a job this summer. I was training to be a server at Red Robin. Training was excruciating; after every four-hour session I felt like I'd actually worked twice as long. It was great.
But certification rolled around yesterday. The long of the short of it is that I was given my own section, and I failed to supply my "Guests" (yes, it's capitalized 100% of the time) the "gift of time," and so I have to hand my shirt in on the Fourth of July. I spent $42 on a pair of non-slip shoes for the job. I didn't get to keep any of my own tips. Technically, I didn't have any of my own tables, so all of the tips people gave me went to the person who didn't wait on the tables. I'll receive a check when I hand my shirt in for all the hours I put in to training. The $51 is going to be spectacular, especially once expenditures are factored in. I don't have the chance to find another job this summer. It's already nearing the end of June.
Most, if not all, of my friends are able to go out and do something during the day, and a good number of them are doing things that they want to do. They have the chance to live for themselves, to do the things that they enjoy. I don't get to enjoy the same privileges. I sit at home every day and do next to nothing all day. I don't have the opportunity to live for myself. I just sit here, bored, and there's nothing I can do about it.
I had the chance at a job this summer. I was training to be a server at Red Robin. Training was excruciating; after every four-hour session I felt like I'd actually worked twice as long. It was great.
But certification rolled around yesterday. The long of the short of it is that I was given my own section, and I failed to supply my "Guests" (yes, it's capitalized 100% of the time) the "gift of time," and so I have to hand my shirt in on the Fourth of July. I spent $42 on a pair of non-slip shoes for the job. I didn't get to keep any of my own tips. Technically, I didn't have any of my own tables, so all of the tips people gave me went to the person who didn't wait on the tables. I'll receive a check when I hand my shirt in for all the hours I put in to training. The $51 is going to be spectacular, especially once expenditures are factored in. I don't have the chance to find another job this summer. It's already nearing the end of June.
Most, if not all, of my friends are able to go out and do something during the day, and a good number of them are doing things that they want to do. They have the chance to live for themselves, to do the things that they enjoy. I don't get to enjoy the same privileges. I sit at home every day and do next to nothing all day. I don't have the opportunity to live for myself. I just sit here, bored, and there's nothing I can do about it.
Sunday, June 15
Things that cheer me
1. All episodes of Digimon to the end of season 3.
2. Nintendo, schools new and old (but especially the Super era).
3. Movies of any genre, so long as they're well-written.
4. My iPod Touch.
5. Apple in general, for their attention to detail and flair.
6. Being free to explore at my own pace.
7. Having opportunities to get out of my head every once in a while.
8. Music from the nineties.
9. Music I can wrap myself in.
10. Blankets I can wrap myself in.
11. That feeling of homeostasis.
12. Pajama pants.
13. Days that begin with rainy mornings.
14. Dreams where I can fly.
15. Sondheim, and any other musical composer who challenges the paradigm.
16. People who challenge the paradigm and succeed.
17. People who were born challenging the paradigm (I like them most of all).
18. Ohana.
19. Love.
20. God's plan.
2. Nintendo, schools new and old (but especially the Super era).
3. Movies of any genre, so long as they're well-written.
4. My iPod Touch.
5. Apple in general, for their attention to detail and flair.
6. Being free to explore at my own pace.
7. Having opportunities to get out of my head every once in a while.
8. Music from the nineties.
9. Music I can wrap myself in.
10. Blankets I can wrap myself in.
11. That feeling of homeostasis.
12. Pajama pants.
13. Days that begin with rainy mornings.
14. Dreams where I can fly.
15. Sondheim, and any other musical composer who challenges the paradigm.
16. People who challenge the paradigm and succeed.
17. People who were born challenging the paradigm (I like them most of all).
18. Ohana.
19. Love.
20. God's plan.
Friday, June 13
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