Or out and about. Depends on how you think about it. Let me esplain… too much to esplain, let me sum-up.

*brikd for quoting a cult classic*

I, for the past week, have been going to a job agency. It’s strange. I don’t feel either way about it. Near-past me might have felt mortified, completely embarrassed for myself and the people around me. Far-past me wouldn’t have even thought to go. In any case, within three days, I was sent to a warehouse to pack lotion and hair-loss solution into boxes. Very important work. 9_9… Everyone keeps asking me “how you like it” and if I’m ‘okay’. (One of these days, I’ll have to post a pic of me. I don’t know. Just to show you the shape of the crazy you’re dealing with. People honestly think I’m 12 or something else WAY under 26. :P ) I know it’s only the first few days, but I know what I can take. I know myself a little better now. And if I have a problem, I’m going to be sure to address it. ASAP. I may not understand the world, but I know how to deal with the crazies. As quickly and as calmly as possible.

Bottom line of that is that I has a moneys. I also has a tireds during the week dealing with all of the noise and travel, so I’m pretty sure that I’ll only have time to post during the weekends.

This is the weekend of that the new Doctor Who movie. Of course, via the miracle of the internuts, I could have already seen it by now, but I decided to wait. That, and I was in the middle of that whole Torrent incident. After 12p, the tv is mine. >.>… <.<…

Thank you, and have a nice day.

Ice cold. Like, keep-your-perishables-outside-instead-of-the-refrigerator cold. Ah, mother nature, why must you treat me like your own personal bitch in the winter?

*brikd for bitching about the weather*

I would suppose that all I can really do is bundle up and shut the heck up, but what would it be if I didn’t needlessly complain about it? It would be not entertaining, that’s what it would be.

Got up early yesterday, all pumped and ready to take on the world. For the umpeenth time in my life, I have given up trying not to drive myself hard and opted for a temp agency. By the sound of the terse and stressed lady on the phone that filled me in on all of the details with minimum asking, I see that, even now, this is going to be something that I will do only a few days of the week. I don’t care, really. I am not here to drone my life away. But I don’t like being without cash, so whadaya gonna do, rite?

That is not to say that I think that money and happiness are the same. They are both concepts of the abstract thinking of Man (we who have these big brains that have nothing else to do but measure and define everything we experience). While happiness is all well and good, we somehow decided that gaining that happiness requires a go between so that we don’t have to go on and on deciding on whether three sheep are worth a single steer or some silly thing like that. So it was decided by those who had more steer or sheep that the shiny crap that someone dug up out of the ground wound stand in for it.

(I’m GROSSLY simplifying… insanely, really…)

Now we willingly owe loan after loan, and scrape and save to pay back only interest, and never really subsuming anything more than the junk we think we want. Makes me hope that the next great extinction takes us out quickly so that we don’t recover quite so well…

And that must be my rant, because I really don’t feel like talking about that anymore.

So my birthday is in three days. I really don’t care-care about it. All I really want is a solid day of doing nothing, but I doubt I’ll get that. What I’m asking for (because I think Mom would feel bad if I didn’t ask for anything) is a stand-alone digital voice recorder. I want to keep a vlog and I have absolutely no audio recording capabilities. Unless I’ve been doing something wrong…

Hmm… maybe… brb: UNCLE NEEDS TO DO REEEE-SEARCH!…

Nevermind, I think I’m asking for the right thing. Besides, I don’t think I have the PCI slots for an audio card. And if I’m going to get something huge and expensive, I’d rather buy it myself. No sense in having people gush all over you with lavish things. Always speaks to me of some ulterior motive.

In any case, random pic time…

Stare deep into the eyes of oblivion… o.o

When you see it, ya’ll niggas’ll shit briks.
(Note: I am Black. No need for alarm. :P )

Also, it’s probably best if you looked at this article before making a mod or game based on a real area. My response lies here under the same title, give or take a page (I don’t know how to link separate reviews yet, sorry…). I already ranted on WP once today… |(…

Meh…

Thank you, and have a nice day.

9GAG has it. It just stopped wet-snowing around here, irl. And as I returned to my WP dashboard and saw floating flecks of white. Well, have to brace myself for the invasion of the MySpace script that should have stayed there.

*brikd for having no holiday spirit*

I’ll gave to look into starting an errand business or something. Been doing it forever, I have all the time in the world, and heck knows if I can go to a store and buy something for some old people. I mean, they’re practically all up and down my block. And if they aren’t aged socialites, they’re busy families that could probably care less about standing in long, long lines at the supermarket. I could totally do that… Oh… wait… I’d need a phone for something like that. And I’m pretty sure Mom would be a bit of a killjoy about just how honest people are or some nightmare scenario like that. Oh man, wrinkles to iron out…

Played some Triple Triad last night. Subsequently reminded myself of why I probably stopped playing: It’s too damned fun.

This is your minigame.

This is your minigame on drugs.

Or ADD. It doesn’t get ADHD unless you’re playing in a timed tourney. Going to play some after I animate today. :P

Who am I kidding? *starts game up*

Thank you, and have a nice day.

… this is only a drill…

*brikd for the joke first thing*

Should probably nuke that first pic from last time. Apparently sharing things on the internet is wrong or something like that. (Yes, I know exactly what they mean. I’m just being a pain about it. >:P )

Woke up and had the strangest revelation today. I don’t have enough fun. True fun. Laughing-like-a-hyena, giggling-like-a-harpy fun. Everything that I remotely connect with the word always holds the possibility of turning sour the second I turn around. Or at least turning sour in my own mind. Why is that? My brain ruins everything. I hope I get a tumor. Stupid brain.

Now if I could only think of something to write. Nothing seems as interesting as it used to be. I need something new. Or, worse, someone new. Or do I? People only seems to complicate things, but it’s that lovely complexity that keeps us from becoming vapid shells of what we’re supposed to be. That is, that’s only if you believe that we’re supposed to be anything at all.

Meh…

Thank you, and have a nice day.

Apologies for any visual blips last time. I’ll fix it after I finish this entry.

*brikd for having a slight emotional breakdown last time* … I know I keep saying I do this regardless of reaction, but damnit, I don’t want to go crazy just yet. You gotta be in the mood for “bat-shit crazy”

I should have enough reason for it in a couple of days. There’s a holiday tomorrow. Lots of people, lots of grief, and plenty of chance for conflict. Why is it holidays, anyway? Why can’t we just immediately follow our feelings and beat the crap out of people who we know are going to be a pain in the ass? “Oh, you ruined a perfectly good holiday.” No, I just took your holiday and turned into a reason to remember not to mix me with certain people.

*big, deep sigh…*

Some things to be thankful for, and some things to not…

Omnomnomratcake… :P

… I think some people miss the point of this thing called ‘existence’…

I, for one, welcome our new feline overlords. :3
(Probably best if you clicked this pic. ^_^;)

Now THAT is a mom…
… … … I love you, Mom. Honest. ^_^;

Thank you, and have a happy turkey-day. :3

… Are non-existent when you wake up to the horrors of possibly being schizophrenic. I’m not saying that I want to be as well-adjusted as a car’s brakes after a trip to Manny, Moe, and Jack’s. I’m saying I want to wake up one day and wonder why I’m being served breakfast in my room when I’m perfectly capable of doing this myself. Yes, It’s Sunday. Yes, Mom usually does that on Sunday. But I doubt to see the cause of it if we’re all eating in our rooms like a good little dysfunctional tribe.

*brikd for the negative start*

Sketches… meh…

Not really enthusiastic about anything at the moment, what with scaring myself with delusions of poisoned food and feigned love and all. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever felt a real emotion since kindergarten. Not one that I didn’t feel bad about almost immediately after.

… Well, that video should own your soul as much as it owns mine right now. :P

*briked for starting with a possibly addicting video*

I really wish I could give the original artist their props. I am planning an animation as we speak. Honestly, you could put any characters you want to this and it would turn out epic, so instead of doing a tribute to SNK or Phantasy Star like I was thinking at first, I decided on doing my own characters justice. Sketches to come. Hopefully.

That pretty much sums up yesterday and today; plotting, planning, and keyframing. I hate keyframes. No. I hate filling in keyframes. *shudders at all the in between work that she just unwittingly gave herself* Doesn’t matter. Not really. I’m going to write this journal, apply for a job, and then test the keys and in-betweens I finished yesterday before I go too far with them.

Oh, and I was getting all inspired as well. Go ahead, I’ll wait here. ^_^… … …

… Doesn’t that just remind you of Ren & Simpy or Mr. Magoo. Epically digging the ending. Anvilicious, but sneakily so. Didn’t hit me until the animation stopped. Left me with that kind of solemn ‘wow’ feeling you get when come out of a movie that actually had some substance. And not a girly sob story or a string of explosions laced on top of plot. Those movies that made you think and laugh and cry all at once. Like Dogma. Or the Original Planet of the Apes. Or watching Who Framed Roger Rabbit after you grow up enough to understand the actual plot through the gratuitous gags.

… … … Dood. Ocarina of Rhyme. Not a Rap fan, but dayum. This hot, yo. O-O

Yes, I speak fluent Ebonics. I kinda have to… >.>… <.<…

Thank you and have a nice day.

… that is what getting the change from an errand for my mother usually spells. It has to. If she had a catchy phrase it would be “And I want ALL my change.” I’m serious… … … Don’t laugh, this is serious. I have about a buck-twenty in change, and I have no idea what to use it for. o_O

*briked once for the lame opening zing, and briked again for not posting a damned thing in what seems like ages (and is probably just a week or two). An extra brik missed in an attempt to hit her for not answering comments and only logging in for smut*

Another mental crisis avoided, merely by walking outside. I could say, in the spirit of Sunday, that I had finally let Jesus into my heart and put faith into humanity and believed that Bush did his best for our beloved country. But that would be a bald-face lie. Instead, I’m going to go for the scientific cop-out of having soaked up just enough rays of sun through my pasty, off-brown skin to produce just enough melatonin in order to function like a human being again. Yay, proteins, the natural building-blocks of life. Yay, still being a misanthropic, self-centered, society-hating weirdo.

I want to animate. But every time I get an idea, I go more than a little overboard planning. Then the intimidation sets in. So, tells ya what I’m gonna try. Doing the least amount of work possible. You heard me. Minimal effort.

That probably goes double for the writing. No more going about my work with grim grit and determination. What else do I have all these silly Ideas if I didn’t think they’d be fun? :(

O carp, writing. O carp, NaNoWriMo. O carp, I’m a whole week behind… -_-;… Great. Need to gnash my head against a wall for a little bit now, thanks.

Meh, back to it, then.

I know I’m supposed to post something, but i don’t know what. It’s like getting to the store, swearing you needed something, but you have no clue what it was you needed.

*too preoccupied to be briked*

I know a wasted most of the day playing puzzle pirates (more satisfying than you think). Then I Stumbled for a bit. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe it was a strange weekend. Maybe I shouldn’t be hanging around semi-habitual drunks that rattle your nerves like ghost chains anymore.

Excuses aside, I have a stomach fill of dry ramen, a mind full of haze, and about three hours of awake time to try and actually make something out of. No, too stoic. I just want to draw or write something. That’s all. No pain, no pressure, no false purpose-tude.

ROM hackers are evil.

Thank you and have a nice day.

… Yeah, now they’re in my heart…

I couldn’t get up today. I hate it when that happens. People I hate in permanent residence. Turning things on the TV that can only be described as Daytime Hogslop. (Jerry Springer, I hope you die a long and excruciatingly painful death.) It’s like living with the high school bully you though you had left behind. Then you remember that life is high school, only bigger, and you feel about ten times worse because you were fooled into thinking life was better than that somehow.

*is briked for no apparent reason*

It’s like the insomniac episode of Ren and Stimpy. i can hear my hair growing, feel my skin peeling…

The places I go when I sleep are about ten times more interesting than if I actually put effort into life as is. Maybe my mind has finally found a way to go there on a more permanent basis.

I feel like I’m writing a the journal that people will find after I’ve gone completely out of my head. The only problem is that, knowing this world, whoever finds it will probably sell it, make millions, and give me none. “What does a crazy person need with money? HAHAHA!”

I hate my glasses. They’re all worn and old now. The black is starting to scrape off and they don’t look as slick anymore. I remember when I first got them. Mom was all bitchy about how i wanted to see what I looked like in the rimless frames. I just wanted to see. It’s not like I was going to say “bag ‘em up” behind her back. I just wanted to see. She’s such a fucking-fucker around money. You all are. We’d be such better creatures if we’d stop eating the menus and start eating the food.

And this is what happens when you’re alone with your thoughts and some Alan Watts recordings for too long. Could be worse. It usually is when I am employed, I start believing the lies. Mostly because I start believing in the system. I’m good now. No more delusions. Society is a sickness I try not to let rule me. That’s going to get me killed one day, but whatever… Let it happen. I’ll die happy, and someone will learn from me.

And now, in the wee hours of the butt-crack of morning, I’m pondering all this as though it’s important. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. It certainly doesn’t feel important.

I used to get up this early. Wash up. Get dressed. Drink some tea. Grab a bagel. Stand at the bus stop for about a half-an-hour in the cold. Work for about 8-10 hours. Come home exhausted. Eat. Sleep. Rash, rinse, repeat. Six days a week. Little to no time or energy for anything else.

Fuck. That. Shit.

Fuck working hard at something that gleans no mental interest with people that seem like they don’t care about you for way less money than it’s worth. Fuck Early days, late nights, and an energy level like that of a sloth when it comes to doing things you want to do. Fuck the pain, the blood, the tears the embarrassment from bosses, the sense of utter failure you get when you run out of money halfway though the week.

I want to revoke my American license. Become landless. Stateless. People-less. I am Jenartica, Coldest fucking place on earth, guaranteed to chill even at the equator.

You can do that you know; there are forms and everything.

I want to kill something. Split open it’s belly. Squeeze the life out of it. This is what they invented Mortal Kombat, methinks.

I don’t even do dishes anymore. That used to be my thing. School, Dishes, Trash, Homework, Writing, Bed. That was about it. Somewhere in all that, I heard bits and pieces about this shit called college, but I felt I was doing enough, thanks. All I felt like adding was a job (poor, deluded me), and maybe work on getting a place of my own. Blurs and bullshit after that. Why the fuck did it take me so long to grow a brain of my own?

I blame TV. All it taught me was that hurting people in the name of justice was right, that a lot of crimes happened in ghetto sections of the city, and that talking bears could also fly planes. There’s a few other important lessons in there, but I think TVTropes covers them all.

Starting to feel better. Just a skosh. Still want to kill things. Probably need another cup of tea. You know, just to “even things out”. Yay, addiction.

I… I don’t want to write anymore. T_T

Thank you, and have a nice day.