Posts Tagged ‘money’

Snow on the dashboard, snow on the ground

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.

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Too Eloquent for the Room

Good morning, good evening, good afternoon. The day that phrase stops sounding good to me is the day that I stop loving art as a whole. Which is never, by the way.

For some odd reason, I remember having to read my journal for the class one day. Why, I don’t know. I start rambling on in my usual spiel, all casual-like, and someone stops me and says that i didn’t write that and it sounded like I was making it up as I went along. I just stared at her. What reason did I have to make anything up as I went? I’m not you: I LIKE writing. I couldn’t speak it as though I were speaking? Was I too eloquent for the room? Whatever… Another memory that proves that I’m just too different for my time, I guess.

I should really do the job thing again, but I’m in the middle of some art for someone. I’m not saying who. I’m just going to keep working on it, quietly in the shadows…

Speaking of jobs, I’ll have to use the house phone for a while. My phone is out. No phone means they can’t call me and tell me that they need another wage slave. You know, like me. In any case, I can solve that, but I just need some time. Some art supplies. A scanner. And a PayPal account.

I’m thinking about trying a Polyphasic sleep cycle. Sounds simple enough; two hour naps and six hour awake-times. This is me extrapolating time out of a hardly-polished wiki article. I figure that if I’m going to be awake until the wee hours of the morning, I should at least pony-up an excuse for it.

Thank you, and have a nice day.

Doctors, Craft, Idling, and what they can do for you

Good morning, good afternoon, good evening. If the weather is any indication, this is going to be one screwed up Summer and Winter is not looking any better. Way to go, humans. You screwed up the entire planetary weather system, speeding it up to what it was going to look like eons from now.

Well, I just got through with season one of Doctor Who. Not for the first time, mind you, but in one successive swoop. How did I withstand that much Christopher Eccleston? I didn’t: I melted like the gooey Doctor fangirl I am. I’m plotting possible fic as we speak. Sue me.

On the other hand, I finally understand that whole first season for what it was. It was the mother of all plot arcs. I’m still seeing over-arcing themes and odd traces of personality that I would usually have picked up the first time through. (You know, unlike an American or Canadian series, or a cartoon in general. British shows are just like that; heady, thinky, and good at hiding it.) Like… you know how the Doctor always complains when the Companion is in trouble? AT least once a regeneration, twice a season if he still has to warm up to the hapless, tag-along human. It’s not that he’s complaining directly to them, he’s just complaining in general. Looking up at God or who- or whatever and saying, “Oh, really? Was that necessary?”

… continue reading this entry.

Brain Fluff and Mental Erosion

Good morning. Good evening. Good afternoon. My brain is full of fluff, my mind if full of crap, and my belly is full of nothingness. No matter how much I eat.

Life is all numbers and money to my mom and her pet hog boyfriend. Here’s hoping that they die slow and horrible deaths.

Dreams are my portal into what urks me and what pushes me, but i think that the conscious part of you has to be working at 100% before you can piece anything together. Helps if you didn’t rat a butt load of sugar the night before, too. I’m going to hand-wave that point. I’ll just throw another to the insane plea.

I think I should just finish all my supply gathering, and be on my way. I’s rather be shot, raped and murdered that stay here where they can play vulture on my feelings. Maybe I’ll go up north and find a group of freegans. That might turn out alright.

Gotta get some dumpster-diving duds, too. Gloves, boots, trashy clothes, and on-the-spot booties for me feet. I know. “Eww.” Get over it. There’s a street full of stores, a strip mall, and a bigger mall just a bike ride away. Try to stop me… Heck, I could go out tonight if I wanted. Hmmm. If I can find nothing in the cupboards, I go off to lurk the dumpsters for foods. >:3

Thank you, and have a nice day.

Denial, realizations, and bears, oh my…

Good Morning. Good Afternoon. Good evening. I think that it is important to say that we all have addictions. Mine, fortunately, are all still legal: sugar, caffeine, randomness, and cartoons.

Bear Nuts. Read it. Read it now and be privied to the fact that if there were ever rejects from Care-A-Lot, these would be the guys. Just… Read it.

The only thing that get’s me is that it’s WP-powered. They even recognize my IP and tag my piccy from here on there. Weird, huh? I constantly curse myself for not having a natural flare or want for comedy. Other than dark comedy. Like… Hertzfeld-dark. While there may be an actual market for it, I figure that it’s either very small or extremely hard to keep constant. I lapse back and forth between the easy gut-shots to the avant-garde stuff, as far as complexity goes. Violence is easy. Comedy is hard. Or some other saying that I can think of that states that comedy is more complex than drama or action.

The only thing stopping me is me, actually. But it doesn’t make me feel all that bad at all. Not that bad. I’d just need the mindset to st down and think of ideas. But that’ll put another project on top of my book. What the heck?

I have about 45 bucks to my name. That’s my issue. I’m coasting between planning and panicking, so I guess that’s the real issue. Creativity only comes to those who are not stressed. So tell you what I’m gonna do… I’m going to huff-it to the bank, yoink 20 out of my dwindling funds, buy some tokens and a couple of snacks, and I’m going to watch cartoons for the rest of the day. I can’t take it. I need a day. Fuck writing for just twelve hours or so.

I’m not even focusing on this. Not really. I have the comic I just linked above in another tab, and when I get to the end of that, I’m gonna load up another. I have mt headphones on (my embarrassingly-big-studio headphones) and that’s up as loud as I can take. I just really need to numb myself today so that I don’t end up laying in bed all day, curled up and muttering nonsense to myself.

Well, crap… Thank you, and have a nice day.

Random Rant About A Random Rant

Ohaio. Konichiwa. Konbanwah. There is a tiny sliver of madness in the epicenter sanity and I can’t account for the bleeding.

I woke up to helicopters yesterday, and I woke up to Care Bears today. Not the cool, chubby Care Bears of yesteryear, but the slim kid ones. The designers were probably told that they wanted to keep the parents from belly aching about large, overweight superhero quadrupedal omnivores. Fat bears, that is.

I also missed yesterday. Subsequently, I wrote nothing. And writing nothing makes me sad. :(


Insert relevant words here.

I even wrote on the day I went skateboarding (which I’m considering again). There really is a power and a might to Morning pages, no matter where you do them. I do them here, I think, because writing on paper is only effective about 50% of the time. Instead of giving me the courage to scribble on and on about a problem until it breaks before the might of my logical mind, it just sort of sits there and festers. Typing, epically with a time limit, makes me jot down everything as fast as possible. That is, when I’m not trying to focus. I try to focus, and the effect is lost. And when the effect is lost, I’m lost. And I start spouting things like… Yay, lost!

It’s hot. “It’s been hot, what the hell is the surprise?” This is the surprise: I forgot what it felt like to sweat. It takes some getting used to, and even then… Lets just put it this way. If there’s no fan, you might as well be melting.

… continue reading this entry.