Because I don't really feel like posting this to my regular pages (though i'll probably do it out of boredom a month or two down the road), let's talk about abstract art.
To start, I hate it. I both love it at the same time. That's the nature of that art. Abstract art is meant to evoke an emotion out of you, in a minimalist way or in a complex one, that's the main goal of art in general, is to evoke emotion and responses. And I guess since i'm writing about it despite my loathing nature for the majority of it, I guess it's successful either way. So let me just blab out the main point of this.
Abstract art is often shat out by people who can't full grasp the concept of their own work themselves. They rely on the general stupidity of the public to crap out an explanation, then they sit there and go: 'Yes. My large, purple square IS the embodiment of pure energy and the personification of the world.' Then people who see it and DON'T get a response, like the majority, rely on this sort of guilty clause to believe what some pompous dingbat shat out, and it continues on that way. WOW! I made a great picture! ONE MILLION DOLLARS PLEASE.
A vast majority of abstract art has the same problem. It's done by people who can't render their way out of a 2-D Box. Quality, really emotional abstract art is 9 times out of 10, made by a person that at some point in their career, rendered amazing, beautiful and lifelike things. From there, they gain an understanding of their subject, how to simplify it down successfully, and make emotional compositions out of simple shapes. What most half-assed abstract artists do is go through 1-2 100-level drawing classes, then start pulling anatomy out of their own asses. It's not successful, and only due to peer pressure in not seeming like a dork for not "Getting it" does it have any weight at all. I'm going to call that the "Dumbass Clause" , believing there's more meaning behind an image just because there's gotta be SOME reason a person painted three equal triangles next to each other and titled it "Cabbage"
I've started fights about this before, with my teacher none the less. She had this view that abstract art (the nonsensical, stupid shit none the less) was the only true medium that mattered. That things like "rules" made all other art invalid. When i got into a debate with her that while some overly-rendered images can lose their meaning, it didn't disqualify them from being considered. That things like "the rule of three" were benefits for the viewer of the picture, that it evoked and helped portray an emotion. Stuff that's centered in the middle breeds this stagnation, stuff that half off the side makes a viewer frustrated, etc. They all had real basis to it, and really good abstract art STILL followed those rules. All the while she sat there going "Yeah? yeah? Uh-huh. Uh-huh, i can guess what type of artist YOU are" while other kissass students went "You can't tame art! Art is free!" OH SWEET GOD SHUT THE FUCK UP.
I saw her walking in the middle of the road one time ( sidewalks are too mainstream) and had to resist the urge to push harder on the gas pedal. Or hit her with the door since she walked through our apartment complex every day. That woman drove me nuts, i swear.
The first college I attended was more known for vet training and Criminal studies, not art (Went there to be a vet and changed to art). There started this whole annoyance fiasco. In my second painting class, where they mostly taught you how to COPY masterpieces instead of paint them, was this guy, the uber-hipster. We'll shorten it to UH. UH comes in late one time, interrupts the teacher's lesson and drops this 5 x5 canvas on the desk. The entire thing is painted this shit-brown/purpleish color, and loudly declares he's made a picture that accurately embodies the universe. Everyone is silent, except for me, who laughed loudly once because I though he was joking. After UH slowly gives me a cold stare that's about 4 inches above my head(seriously, the door at the back of the room was majorly dissed) the whole class just... wets themselves with his artistic brilliance, and the Dumbass Clause swings into full effect. One kid starts that it's so...SO deep, while the other starts explaining how this affects his soul. Going up to it and sensing the bullshit so heavy in the air it'd soon choke us all out, I asked him to explain how he embodied the universe. And he just keeps taking these deep breathes, looking around inches above everyone's head, more deep breaths before going... "Life... and everything, you know?" While I go "No, i don't. Explain the concept so that I can understand"
If you want to go the intelligent option, UH could've said that all instances and life mixed together create this muddy existence. That would've made it mean something, i suppose. But no. He continues to give me fragments of sentence, then half of another, all these existential shards that don't make a complete thought. From there, I'm forced to realize that he doesn't have a fucking clue what he's doing, and that once someone questions him on his bullshit, that veil is so strikingly thin that it's barely worth being there at all. All the while the people around me are having euphoric karmic out-of-body experiences about a shit-brown square, and I face-palm enough to leave a bruise.
There have been many, many other instances. The other notable one being a guy on a popular site's forum, where i swear to god, it's a series of scribbles and vague geometric shapes doodled on the back of a Steak N' Shake paper place mat. You can SEE the text in the image, upside down. This post was short and to the point. "Tell me how this makes you feel" When I wrote down "Confused, and not meaning anything because I can tell it's on a place mat and had no thought behind it" the guy erupts into a rage that he'll be acknowledged as the next great Picasso. I'm not shitting you. (Picasso is another one of those "i learned how to actually understand the human form before deviating from it" kinda folks btw)
Again, some abstract art can be good, deep and developed. That is a possible feat. I just wish people'd stop shatting all over the concept itself.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Printer man
Alright. Today's been frustrating. I've been having too many "white people' problems and figured I haven't ranted on this account in a bit so here.
Firstly, I'm getting ready for FWA. Me and Centra will be there, riding down from Ohio and ohio-like areas with Pendragon in a convoy full of hilarity. So in getting ready for FWA, I wanted to have some bookmarks printed out, and some new prints from stuff i've done recently. Three prints, 20 each, bookmark sheets, which were already formatted to be printed on 11 x17 index card-stock, 5 total. So 65 prints total. I spent time saving them as PNG's, which is how my college had them printed because it was better at keeping quality, and PSDs, of each. The drive to the printers is about 20, 25 mins, and I'm figuring on coming back a few days later to pick everything up. As i figured my entire debacle would take about 5-10 min of ordering, then I can go back home to work on IA's. SO. PREFACE DONE.
I get there, and the guy off the bat seems very... dim... I guess is the best way to put it. Older. In my knowledge, older people don't know shit about computers. Reasoning comes from knowledge of many old people, none of which know what a computer does besides e-mails. Slow talker. Seems easily confused. I hand him my zip drive and he plugs it in. So here's where our list of issues starts.
- He doesn't know how to locate the zip drive. He literally spends like 2-3 min going "hmm...hhhhhmmm' before I go 'it's kingston, under desktop"
I explain i have one PNG file of everything, and one PSD file of the same thing. he prints up the PNG files, and everything's at about....40% the full size. Thus begins the real fun. I told him that maybe the PNG file had compression issues, to use the PSD instead.
- He tells me that CS5 documents do not open in CS4. - bullshit -
- He does not know how to change the orientation of the paper in the printing menu.
-His Photoshop keeps crashing every time he opens up the paper properties.
-Eventually he turns around and tells me what I'm asking is impossible.
I can see this guy's desktop. he's got like....4 other adobe programs open, frantically opening Illustrator, InDesign, Photoshop- repeatedly-, because he doesn't see "crash report" at the top of his fucking window. HE DOES THIS LIKE 5 TIMES. it's some hoopy old ass computer.
- He tells me I'm probably going to have to drive home and convert these to PDF files. 2 problems with that
1: He's changed one of the files into PDF himself because that's what Photoshop FUCKING DOES
2: WHY DO I NEED TO DRIVE HOME TO DO THIS
-He literally just keeps doing the same thing; opening in CS4, Open the document, go to print settings, click on "paper properties" and the thing crashes. Like 5-6 fucking times this happens, and he just turns around and goes WELP, DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY.
On a normal basis, I have a pretty moderate fuse with someone. I'll put up with shit for a long while. When it comes to my business, I'll put up with shit for longer. That's why I put up with the previous shop where I got my prints done, where the people asked if I did witchcraft and could cast spells on their co-workers because I had images of Furries. YOU PEOPLE WONDER WHAT HELL I GO THROUGH FOR YOU, ITS A LOT. But the price was good and the quality was great. So I dealt with it.
So i'm....Taking deep breaths, smiling, trying to look stupid and helpless instead of pissed off and annoyed. But it's starting to show through, for i've been watching him FAIL like FAILOPUS for THIRTY FUCKING MINUTES when one of his co-workers, the SHIPPING guy, comes by to help. And the original guy proceeds to tell him that Photoshop won't open the document at all, when it does, it's just his stupid PAPER PROPERTIES FUCKING IT UP. SO HE LIIIESSS. And he keeps doing it! He tells me that I must've set it up wrong, that I should go home and change it to PDF files. I kept suggesting he just do it in JPEG, as it's saved in full format and 300 DPI so it should be fine. The guy asks if it'll even convert it to PDF here, and the first guy tells him it doesn't!
FIRST OFF YOU WHORE IT'S RIGHT THERE ON YOUR FUCKING DESKTOP. PDF. FUCKING FIGURE IT OUT THIS IS YOUR BUSINESS!
I mean seriously! I've never watched some dumb-fuck blatantly lie to my face like I can't fucking hear him! So i keep chiming in going "OH, WAIT, NO, ISN"T THERE ONE ON THE DESKTOP THERE? " Then when they turn around and the first guy is obviously frustrated because he's never printed anything but a PDF in the past, I smile like I don't know a fucking thing and blink like I'm densely made out of retard. Because if he's got blatant lying on his side, I've got blonde-bimbo honesty and "GET THIS SHIT DONE" passive aggressiveness going for me.
I SEE YOUR LIES, PRINTER MAN, TWO CAN PLAY AT THIS GAME.
So. SO. The issue is....are you ready? He hasn't restarted his computer in a while. yeah. That was the issue. I kinda figured that the ram was eaten up by the fact it took forever and a half to load anything. Or the fact that stuff kept crashing. But i'm silly and observant like that. So he restarts his computer, and keeps doing the old-man version of a hissy fit, whining and bitching constantly that nothing'll work. The shipping guy starts making motions that he's gonna leave, and i think he could tell by my "OH GOD PLEASE DON'T LEAVE YOU KNOW THINGS" look that he stopped, came back around and kept helping. Thank god for that man, seriously. I was gonna start throwing chairs around.
So the first guy keeps bitching that it wont' work, and SHOCKER, when he tries it again, it works. But he prints it up again and it's still 40% the original size. He goes back to suggesting I drive all the way the fuck home, do something that'll take me 5 minutes, if that, and drive back. When I calmly (calm in a very surface way) explain that home's a long fucking ways off, the shipping guy offers to try his hand at it. Cue the hallelujah music.
That guy tries it again, and comes up with the same problems, literally un-clicks like.... 2 boxes and clicks the "Scale to fit to media" button that I suggest, and wallah. It prints the right size. He and I start talking about how other people come to us for their computer issues while the guy behind him keeps shrugging and confused about life and computers and the magical talking box and the saxa-ma-phone. Fuck if I know. If someone came up to me and went "Sorry about that, he has mental disabilities" that would've made this situation a lot easier to understand. So the shipping guy prints out all of my other shit (which I was expecting to come back later for but fuck, I'll take it) prints out my bookmarks way too fucking big that they're like the size of most book covers, and at this point I just don't give a shit. The entire trip was a 2 hr ordeal.
So that's one thing that was annoying, and massively so.
Second thing is that I run a club on DA about dragons. I'm the only person who does the submissions, i've got guides like "Don't submit non-colored stuff on lined paper" and "Don't suggest things to favorites, just join the damn club if you want to submit" and I'm just... a little....fucking annoyed by all the CLEARLY traced Neondragon how-to-draw dragon art I have to go through. Like.... pose for pose, the coloring is the same, the lines are all warbly, which indicates they just laid some copy paper over it and traced. It's something small, I know, but for fucks sake, you're not fooling anyone. Best is when they have the print option enabled, because everyone wants to buy your fucking trace-over warble-art with the crayon ass-shavings.
Another fun one is when someone submits like 3 different versions of the same fucking thing. Look at my lineart head with red eyes! Looka t this one with a Photoshop filter laid over it! HERE THERE BE LENSFLARE. and it's comical how often I get bitched out by people angry I didn't submit all the versions, too. I usually pick the one that looks the most interesting and deny the rest. Generally it becomes and argument about what is and isn't art and I 'm not allowed to judge lensflare mc dragoneyes like that.
WOMEN, AMIRITE?
Firstly, I'm getting ready for FWA. Me and Centra will be there, riding down from Ohio and ohio-like areas with Pendragon in a convoy full of hilarity. So in getting ready for FWA, I wanted to have some bookmarks printed out, and some new prints from stuff i've done recently. Three prints, 20 each, bookmark sheets, which were already formatted to be printed on 11 x17 index card-stock, 5 total. So 65 prints total. I spent time saving them as PNG's, which is how my college had them printed because it was better at keeping quality, and PSDs, of each. The drive to the printers is about 20, 25 mins, and I'm figuring on coming back a few days later to pick everything up. As i figured my entire debacle would take about 5-10 min of ordering, then I can go back home to work on IA's. SO. PREFACE DONE.
I get there, and the guy off the bat seems very... dim... I guess is the best way to put it. Older. In my knowledge, older people don't know shit about computers. Reasoning comes from knowledge of many old people, none of which know what a computer does besides e-mails. Slow talker. Seems easily confused. I hand him my zip drive and he plugs it in. So here's where our list of issues starts.
- He doesn't know how to locate the zip drive. He literally spends like 2-3 min going "hmm...hhhhhmmm' before I go 'it's kingston, under desktop"
I explain i have one PNG file of everything, and one PSD file of the same thing. he prints up the PNG files, and everything's at about....40% the full size. Thus begins the real fun. I told him that maybe the PNG file had compression issues, to use the PSD instead.
- He tells me that CS5 documents do not open in CS4. - bullshit -
- He does not know how to change the orientation of the paper in the printing menu.
-His Photoshop keeps crashing every time he opens up the paper properties.
-Eventually he turns around and tells me what I'm asking is impossible.
I can see this guy's desktop. he's got like....4 other adobe programs open, frantically opening Illustrator, InDesign, Photoshop- repeatedly-, because he doesn't see "crash report" at the top of his fucking window. HE DOES THIS LIKE 5 TIMES. it's some hoopy old ass computer.
- He tells me I'm probably going to have to drive home and convert these to PDF files. 2 problems with that
1: He's changed one of the files into PDF himself because that's what Photoshop FUCKING DOES
2: WHY DO I NEED TO DRIVE HOME TO DO THIS
-He literally just keeps doing the same thing; opening in CS4, Open the document, go to print settings, click on "paper properties" and the thing crashes. Like 5-6 fucking times this happens, and he just turns around and goes WELP, DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY.
On a normal basis, I have a pretty moderate fuse with someone. I'll put up with shit for a long while. When it comes to my business, I'll put up with shit for longer. That's why I put up with the previous shop where I got my prints done, where the people asked if I did witchcraft and could cast spells on their co-workers because I had images of Furries. YOU PEOPLE WONDER WHAT HELL I GO THROUGH FOR YOU, ITS A LOT. But the price was good and the quality was great. So I dealt with it.
So i'm....Taking deep breaths, smiling, trying to look stupid and helpless instead of pissed off and annoyed. But it's starting to show through, for i've been watching him FAIL like FAILOPUS for THIRTY FUCKING MINUTES when one of his co-workers, the SHIPPING guy, comes by to help. And the original guy proceeds to tell him that Photoshop won't open the document at all, when it does, it's just his stupid PAPER PROPERTIES FUCKING IT UP. SO HE LIIIESSS. And he keeps doing it! He tells me that I must've set it up wrong, that I should go home and change it to PDF files. I kept suggesting he just do it in JPEG, as it's saved in full format and 300 DPI so it should be fine. The guy asks if it'll even convert it to PDF here, and the first guy tells him it doesn't!
FIRST OFF YOU WHORE IT'S RIGHT THERE ON YOUR FUCKING DESKTOP. PDF. FUCKING FIGURE IT OUT THIS IS YOUR BUSINESS!
I mean seriously! I've never watched some dumb-fuck blatantly lie to my face like I can't fucking hear him! So i keep chiming in going "OH, WAIT, NO, ISN"T THERE ONE ON THE DESKTOP THERE? " Then when they turn around and the first guy is obviously frustrated because he's never printed anything but a PDF in the past, I smile like I don't know a fucking thing and blink like I'm densely made out of retard. Because if he's got blatant lying on his side, I've got blonde-bimbo honesty and "GET THIS SHIT DONE" passive aggressiveness going for me.
I SEE YOUR LIES, PRINTER MAN, TWO CAN PLAY AT THIS GAME.
So. SO. The issue is....are you ready? He hasn't restarted his computer in a while. yeah. That was the issue. I kinda figured that the ram was eaten up by the fact it took forever and a half to load anything. Or the fact that stuff kept crashing. But i'm silly and observant like that. So he restarts his computer, and keeps doing the old-man version of a hissy fit, whining and bitching constantly that nothing'll work. The shipping guy starts making motions that he's gonna leave, and i think he could tell by my "OH GOD PLEASE DON'T LEAVE YOU KNOW THINGS" look that he stopped, came back around and kept helping. Thank god for that man, seriously. I was gonna start throwing chairs around.
So the first guy keeps bitching that it wont' work, and SHOCKER, when he tries it again, it works. But he prints it up again and it's still 40% the original size. He goes back to suggesting I drive all the way the fuck home, do something that'll take me 5 minutes, if that, and drive back. When I calmly (calm in a very surface way) explain that home's a long fucking ways off, the shipping guy offers to try his hand at it. Cue the hallelujah music.
That guy tries it again, and comes up with the same problems, literally un-clicks like.... 2 boxes and clicks the "Scale to fit to media" button that I suggest, and wallah. It prints the right size. He and I start talking about how other people come to us for their computer issues while the guy behind him keeps shrugging and confused about life and computers and the magical talking box and the saxa-ma-phone. Fuck if I know. If someone came up to me and went "Sorry about that, he has mental disabilities" that would've made this situation a lot easier to understand. So the shipping guy prints out all of my other shit (which I was expecting to come back later for but fuck, I'll take it) prints out my bookmarks way too fucking big that they're like the size of most book covers, and at this point I just don't give a shit. The entire trip was a 2 hr ordeal.
So that's one thing that was annoying, and massively so.
Second thing is that I run a club on DA about dragons. I'm the only person who does the submissions, i've got guides like "Don't submit non-colored stuff on lined paper" and "Don't suggest things to favorites, just join the damn club if you want to submit" and I'm just... a little....fucking annoyed by all the CLEARLY traced Neondragon how-to-draw dragon art I have to go through. Like.... pose for pose, the coloring is the same, the lines are all warbly, which indicates they just laid some copy paper over it and traced. It's something small, I know, but for fucks sake, you're not fooling anyone. Best is when they have the print option enabled, because everyone wants to buy your fucking trace-over warble-art with the crayon ass-shavings.
Another fun one is when someone submits like 3 different versions of the same fucking thing. Look at my lineart head with red eyes! Looka t this one with a Photoshop filter laid over it! HERE THERE BE LENSFLARE. and it's comical how often I get bitched out by people angry I didn't submit all the versions, too. I usually pick the one that looks the most interesting and deny the rest. Generally it becomes and argument about what is and isn't art and I 'm not allowed to judge lensflare mc dragoneyes like that.
WOMEN, AMIRITE?
Re- Bless America and Canada, Please
...and screw the rest of the world.
SO! Something I used to post quite a bit on DA and a little on Fa....maybe...i can't remember, it's been a while, are the stupid forwarded e-mails my grandmother sends me. She's the uber religious type, and I just get these out of the blue anddd, yeah, so I got this one today. No doubt the next time I see her, she'll ask me for intellectual commentary about the thing with the precious moment's clip art on it.
"Hi Lord, its me. We are getting older and things are getting bad here. Gas prices are too high, no jobs, food and heating costs too high. I know some have taken you out of our schools, government and even Christmas, but Lord I'm asking you to come back And re-bless America and Canada. We really need you! There are more of us who want you than those who don't! Thank You Lord, I Love you. If you agree, send it on---if not just delete. Only you & the Lord will know. "Life without God is like an unsharpened pencil - it has no point."
But it's still full of potential and no worse for the wear.*cough*
SO! Something I used to post quite a bit on DA and a little on Fa....maybe...i can't remember, it's been a while, are the stupid forwarded e-mails my grandmother sends me. She's the uber religious type, and I just get these out of the blue anddd, yeah, so I got this one today. No doubt the next time I see her, she'll ask me for intellectual commentary about the thing with the precious moment's clip art on it.
"Hi Lord, its me. We are getting older and things are getting bad here. Gas prices are too high, no jobs, food and heating costs too high. I know some have taken you out of our schools, government and even Christmas, but Lord I'm asking you to come back And re-bless America and Canada. We really need you! There are more of us who want you than those who don't! Thank You Lord, I Love you. If you agree, send it on---if not just delete. Only you & the Lord will know. "Life without God is like an unsharpened pencil - it has no point."
But it's still full of potential and no worse for the wear.*cough*
USD, I don't even...
Okay. So I completed this commission for my mom's retard bf, Bruce. It's for my mom, and it's of her dog. Beyond his dickishness in demanding it be done ASAP, and reminding me when my own mother's birthday is, he's now topped the cake of crap- thankfully, i've got it in writing so everyone can see. Mostly by just being...you guessed it, more stupid an impatient. OH, and for about a week, he called me every other day to prod me about "what he could to to move the process along"
Step one, I told you when you pestered me about this a few weeks ago, that I have a commission queue of people that I don't feel right CUTTING YOUR STUPID ASS in front of. They're good people! Much better then you!
Step two: Fuck you.
Step three: I am not a lexmark printer of art, y'just can't kick me all the time to get what you want.
Step four: No, seriously, fuck you.
So I sent him an e-mail to tell him it's done. That he can now get off my goddamn ass about this, that FUCK YOU ITS DONE I HATE YOU HERE IT IS. Let's recant this fun one step at a time.
First E-mail:
Him: "Andrea, I hope that you are enjoying your new place in Ohio, getting to know the area...not qiute sure how far you are from Cleveland..I'm just following up on the drawing of Finley..to see if you still had time to have it for your mother's b'day..or a few days before it so I can get a frame for it..please let me know... thanks, Bruce."
Kind enough. Considering this was sent after a week of me blowing him off, it's still rather...not retarded. Let's move on.
Response e-mail (10 days later when image is completed):
Me: "It's all finished. Things here have been pretty all over the place, and a lot of my time's been dedicated to helping plan my friend's funeral. Let me know where to ship this to, and I'll do it tomorrow or the day after; The image is 11 x 14 inches in size if you'd like to get a frame. preview image is attached."
I only use first names or...names at all when I give a shit about the person I'm talking to. Thusly, there's not-a-name to be found.
Him: "Thank you Andrea, it looks great..you can ship it to me at *his said address*... please let me know the shipping cost....and where to send it to...sorry to hear your friends passing...hope things get better..take care.."
I...don't know why he's asking ME where to send it to--- after where he told me to send it to. I think he was trying to set up an enigma of sorts, i don't frickin' know. But here's where it starts getting fun.
Me: " It'll be like 5 USD total for shipping and the document mailer; I'll try to have it in the mail either tomorrow or tuesday, since I have to spray-fix the drawing so it doesn't smudge"
To me, this is english. As he is an accountant and deals with businesses and thier money, you'd think he'd....and the... Here, just read his response, which I snorted and bust out laughing at for a good 10USD...d'ah I mean, 10 minutes.
Him: "Andrea, I"m not sure what 5 USD means...I understand shipping cost.. but not document mailer..don't know spray-fix...please.... just how much more to get this done...where to pay..how..thank you"
I feel the need to break this down.
Andrea: Well, we're off to a good start, as I AM Andrea, and this is addressed to my e-mail.
"I'm not sure what 5 USD means": Okay, I guess you could play the...middle of the country syndrome where you're not swapping currencies all the time, but I was talking about price. FIVE is the only number in that goddamn e-mail. WHY WOULD YOU ASSUME IT'S ANYTHING BUT ABOUT MONEY? USD is a pretty standard term; he's a goddamn accountant! HE WORKS WITH MONEY. WHY IS--- my brain just melted lets move on.
"I understand shipping cost": Well, that's at least one small victory. But it's like saying "I read the preamble of the constitution, I understood the words "We the people" ---- What does WE stand for again?
"But not document Mailer": *facepalm* You'd think this would be self explanatory. The MEANING is in the GODDAMN NAME. DOCUMENTS are....Generally paper-like objects, roughly flat, of a predetermined size. Mailers are for.... Mailing. I cannot fathom why he doesn't know what a document mailer is, as again, about 30% of his job is mailing out documents. I.... this thing's too big to wrap my head around, because the inflated ass-clownery of the whole situation is too massive to understand.
"Don't know spray fix": I'll cut the TINIEST bit of slack on this, because I guess you could hear "Spray fix" and think of...maybe that rubber spray shit that's been on the TV a lot lately... or of a handiman made of spray, i don't know. But even looking in the previous e-mail, spray fix is followed by "So shit doesnt' smudge" So you'd rationally, and gramatically be able to figure out that the use of the noun would be to keep things from smudging. There is more then two-steps to the thinking process on what spray fix is, so I can understand the goddamn fumbling of brain.
"Please": This one has to be my favorite; next to document mailer. Please.... Please Andrea, have mercy. Don't use these...TERMS for things that generally everyone knows about. Please. Please don't be mean. Please stop torturing me with punctuation other then trailing ellipsis, you bumfuck hoar.
"just how much more to get this done" This one annoyed me. OH JEEZUS, NOT ANOTHER 5 DOLLARS. BAWWWWWWWW (i already shipped that shit out this morning, I wasn't expecting his stupid ass to pay anyways) But I hate when people regard this whole...artistic transation dealiemabob with so much dickery. BIITCH BITCH MOAN HOW MUCH MORE? BAWWWWWWW ps your mom's birthday is the 12th.
"where to pay" Up your ass.
"how." WITH U-SEDS, OF COURSE.
thank you I hope you castrate yourself on a pumpkin.
My e-mail back was pretty straight forward:
"5 USD is 5 dollars; United states Dollars. It cost 2.05 to have it shipped, and the envelope cost 1.59; i've already mailed it, I'm not going to hold it ransom for shipping costs. Document Mailer is a rigid envelope so the drawing doesn't get ripped up and bent. Spray fix is a aerisol spray that keeps the drawing from being smudged.
I shipped it out this morning already, so it should be on it's way. "
Obviously my true feelings and the ones sent out differ slightly. But I figured you guys could get some laughs out of my misery--- which it's not even misery, it's just a series of rather dickish events that showcase his personality oh-so perfectly.
Step one, I told you when you pestered me about this a few weeks ago, that I have a commission queue of people that I don't feel right CUTTING YOUR STUPID ASS in front of. They're good people! Much better then you!
Step two: Fuck you.
Step three: I am not a lexmark printer of art, y'just can't kick me all the time to get what you want.
Step four: No, seriously, fuck you.
So I sent him an e-mail to tell him it's done. That he can now get off my goddamn ass about this, that FUCK YOU ITS DONE I HATE YOU HERE IT IS. Let's recant this fun one step at a time.
First E-mail:
Him: "Andrea, I hope that you are enjoying your new place in Ohio, getting to know the area...not qiute sure how far you are from Cleveland..I'm just following up on the drawing of Finley..to see if you still had time to have it for your mother's b'day..or a few days before it so I can get a frame for it..please let me know... thanks, Bruce."
Kind enough. Considering this was sent after a week of me blowing him off, it's still rather...not retarded. Let's move on.
Response e-mail (10 days later when image is completed):
Me: "It's all finished. Things here have been pretty all over the place, and a lot of my time's been dedicated to helping plan my friend's funeral. Let me know where to ship this to, and I'll do it tomorrow or the day after; The image is 11 x 14 inches in size if you'd like to get a frame. preview image is attached."
I only use first names or...names at all when I give a shit about the person I'm talking to. Thusly, there's not-a-name to be found.
Him: "Thank you Andrea, it looks great..you can ship it to me at *his said address*... please let me know the shipping cost....and where to send it to...sorry to hear your friends passing...hope things get better..take care.."
I...don't know why he's asking ME where to send it to--- after where he told me to send it to. I think he was trying to set up an enigma of sorts, i don't frickin' know. But here's where it starts getting fun.
Me: " It'll be like 5 USD total for shipping and the document mailer; I'll try to have it in the mail either tomorrow or tuesday, since I have to spray-fix the drawing so it doesn't smudge"
To me, this is english. As he is an accountant and deals with businesses and thier money, you'd think he'd....and the... Here, just read his response, which I snorted and bust out laughing at for a good 10USD...d'ah I mean, 10 minutes.
Him: "Andrea, I"m not sure what 5 USD means...I understand shipping cost.. but not document mailer..don't know spray-fix...please.... just how much more to get this done...where to pay..how..thank you"
I feel the need to break this down.
Andrea: Well, we're off to a good start, as I AM Andrea, and this is addressed to my e-mail.
"I'm not sure what 5 USD means": Okay, I guess you could play the...middle of the country syndrome where you're not swapping currencies all the time, but I was talking about price. FIVE is the only number in that goddamn e-mail. WHY WOULD YOU ASSUME IT'S ANYTHING BUT ABOUT MONEY? USD is a pretty standard term; he's a goddamn accountant! HE WORKS WITH MONEY. WHY IS--- my brain just melted lets move on.
"I understand shipping cost": Well, that's at least one small victory. But it's like saying "I read the preamble of the constitution, I understood the words "We the people" ---- What does WE stand for again?
"But not document Mailer": *facepalm* You'd think this would be self explanatory. The MEANING is in the GODDAMN NAME. DOCUMENTS are....Generally paper-like objects, roughly flat, of a predetermined size. Mailers are for.... Mailing. I cannot fathom why he doesn't know what a document mailer is, as again, about 30% of his job is mailing out documents. I.... this thing's too big to wrap my head around, because the inflated ass-clownery of the whole situation is too massive to understand.
"Don't know spray fix": I'll cut the TINIEST bit of slack on this, because I guess you could hear "Spray fix" and think of...maybe that rubber spray shit that's been on the TV a lot lately... or of a handiman made of spray, i don't know. But even looking in the previous e-mail, spray fix is followed by "So shit doesnt' smudge" So you'd rationally, and gramatically be able to figure out that the use of the noun would be to keep things from smudging. There is more then two-steps to the thinking process on what spray fix is, so I can understand the goddamn fumbling of brain.
"Please": This one has to be my favorite; next to document mailer. Please.... Please Andrea, have mercy. Don't use these...TERMS for things that generally everyone knows about. Please. Please don't be mean. Please stop torturing me with punctuation other then trailing ellipsis, you bumfuck hoar.
"just how much more to get this done" This one annoyed me. OH JEEZUS, NOT ANOTHER 5 DOLLARS. BAWWWWWWWW (i already shipped that shit out this morning, I wasn't expecting his stupid ass to pay anyways) But I hate when people regard this whole...artistic transation dealiemabob with so much dickery. BIITCH BITCH MOAN HOW MUCH MORE? BAWWWWWWW ps your mom's birthday is the 12th.
"where to pay" Up your ass.
"how." WITH U-SEDS, OF COURSE.
thank you I hope you castrate yourself on a pumpkin.
My e-mail back was pretty straight forward:
"5 USD is 5 dollars; United states Dollars. It cost 2.05 to have it shipped, and the envelope cost 1.59; i've already mailed it, I'm not going to hold it ransom for shipping costs. Document Mailer is a rigid envelope so the drawing doesn't get ripped up and bent. Spray fix is a aerisol spray that keeps the drawing from being smudged.
I shipped it out this morning already, so it should be on it's way. "
Obviously my true feelings and the ones sent out differ slightly. But I figured you guys could get some laughs out of my misery--- which it's not even misery, it's just a series of rather dickish events that showcase his personality oh-so perfectly.
The Falcon
Because my refrigerator died and sugary spoiled water is everywhere. It's supposed to be 97 degrees here today with an index of 115. My AC also runs with the efficiency of a 350 pound man with a hernia.
Some updates; My grandmother was taken off of life support and actually did better. But she'll be going into hospice care, possibly into a home for the remainder of her time, which might be a day, or 6 months, it's kinda a crap shoot. She's wacked out on morphine 99% of the time, so she tells everyone how she's afraid of the purple people and how she doesn't like american beds. *shrugs*
It is what it is. Though there's some sorta irony that my ultra-religious dad is suddenly picking up on pagan notes, how he saw a falcon at the window and took it as a sign to make the right decision. I swear to god i hear about that damn falcon every time I talk to him. We live in an area heavily populated by Red-tailed hawks, Prairie Falcons, an Turkey Vultures. On hot days, they're often seen coasting on the thermals, and he doesnt' know the difference between the three. Large birds are ALL falcons. So he's always seeing falcons. So like...religious but apparently not-pagan GOD is chatting his ear off. "I saw 3 falcons today! It's a sign that i'm making the right decision" When you're LOOKING for hawks and falcons....y'know, never mind, if it makes him feel better I'll go with it. But the falcons, man, THE FALCONS.
I'm cautiously optimistic about my AC. I've had it running all night, and it's still maintaining the temp at 78 degrees *checks* errr, 81 degrees despite that it's 107 outside. I have plans on running away from this apartment if it gets to be like yesterday, 91 degrees inside at 8 pm. FFfffuck that was horrible. Threw away 95% of my food because it was all spoiled, made a new friend in the apartment yesterday that agreed to house my food until they buy a new refrigerator, which should HOPEFULLY be tomorrow or the day after.
I hate heat waves. My productivity just...down the drain. all I wanna do is sleep and hide in the dark and sleep s'more. That or play minecraft. Though when the temp gets this high, I find myself laughing like an evil genius because it's so damn absurd. 115 Degrees. FUCKING HILARIOUS. WHY. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING. DOHOHOHOHOHO. CHICAGO WHY.
How do ye cope? How don't you cope? How damn blazing hot is it by you
Some updates; My grandmother was taken off of life support and actually did better. But she'll be going into hospice care, possibly into a home for the remainder of her time, which might be a day, or 6 months, it's kinda a crap shoot. She's wacked out on morphine 99% of the time, so she tells everyone how she's afraid of the purple people and how she doesn't like american beds. *shrugs*
It is what it is. Though there's some sorta irony that my ultra-religious dad is suddenly picking up on pagan notes, how he saw a falcon at the window and took it as a sign to make the right decision. I swear to god i hear about that damn falcon every time I talk to him. We live in an area heavily populated by Red-tailed hawks, Prairie Falcons, an Turkey Vultures. On hot days, they're often seen coasting on the thermals, and he doesnt' know the difference between the three. Large birds are ALL falcons. So he's always seeing falcons. So like...religious but apparently not-pagan GOD is chatting his ear off. "I saw 3 falcons today! It's a sign that i'm making the right decision" When you're LOOKING for hawks and falcons....y'know, never mind, if it makes him feel better I'll go with it. But the falcons, man, THE FALCONS.
I'm cautiously optimistic about my AC. I've had it running all night, and it's still maintaining the temp at 78 degrees *checks* errr, 81 degrees despite that it's 107 outside. I have plans on running away from this apartment if it gets to be like yesterday, 91 degrees inside at 8 pm. FFfffuck that was horrible. Threw away 95% of my food because it was all spoiled, made a new friend in the apartment yesterday that agreed to house my food until they buy a new refrigerator, which should HOPEFULLY be tomorrow or the day after.
I hate heat waves. My productivity just...down the drain. all I wanna do is sleep and hide in the dark and sleep s'more. That or play minecraft. Though when the temp gets this high, I find myself laughing like an evil genius because it's so damn absurd. 115 Degrees. FUCKING HILARIOUS. WHY. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING. DOHOHOHOHOHO. CHICAGO WHY.
How do ye cope? How don't you cope? How damn blazing hot is it by you
You Want Happy Ending?
/ horrible racist stereotypes
WHEN I WAS A YOUNG WHIPPERSNAPPER doodling my sketchy mc crappy sketches and making that dog face with a hat where you use the # 25, I remember the people I watched on deviantart who were pumping out commissions left and right, suddenly refusing to take any commissions at all. And I laughed at them. HOW SPOILED they were to have such a gift and to be completely stuck up about sharing it, FOR MONEY. WHAT A LAUGH. If I had that talent, I'd do commissions until my fingers were crippled in pain and fell off, and even then i'd paint with my toes until those fell off too. The idea that a person would work so hard to do something they loved, only to wrap up tightly within themselves and never share that gift again. It baffled me.
I'm uh...not so baffled anymore.
These past 3 days alone been's pretty, well, interesting. Long story short, I can't help but feel like a dirty prostitute through my own actions, and through people's words to me. If nothing else, I'm a damn industrious whore, good to my word. But a skank none the less.
In one situation regarding a dangly badge, after I told the person thier directions were not clear, they told me to ...hold on I can get the exact wording for you: " I paid you a little extra on this work, you could make an effort. I've been patient, really nice, but now it's over. I've paid you more than you asked to so this work and you're gonna finish it!" and of course this is out of context, i was fully being crabby on my own rights. But this comment was still pretty out of the blue. Reading this, I mean, you can't help but feel like you're worth absolutely nothing, that you're there to pump out artwork and nothing else. That situation was resolved, either way.
In another, I had a commissioner hounding me about getting a sketch done; even though I told them that I was going to a convention, and that I would be absent some days after while I looked for a place to live, and maybe take a few days off past that, because driving 7 hours, well, gets a little tiring. So I get another note about it, and I tell them yes, i can start your sketch, give me a few hours and i'll get it out to you. So i pull my tired, sick ass out of bed, fiddle around with the composition a few time, and sketch it up. I show it to them, they ask for changes. Open photoshop back up, make the changes, show it again. They want more changes. Open up photoshop, make the changes, show it again. They want more changes. Open up photoshop, change it again, show it again. They liked it the second time. Change it back a bit, finally come to an agreeance on the picture. I give them the amount it'll cost and my paypal, and there's an issue- The price is too high. Also, btw, go ahead and start painting but i'm going on vacation until the 5th. I've sent notes since then, and all of them are read, but never returned. I tear out my hair and move onto the next commissioner. I'm still sick.
in another, i'm asking a person if they'd like me to personalize their badge , laminate and ship it out to them, and the only response back is "it is going to cost me money"
I dunno. I love bringing your guys's visions to life, I love painting and expressing our collaborative artistic babies, I love working with you all. But sometimes I feel like i'm trying to reach out and hug a cactus. That is a seriously stupid simile, but it's adequate. The commissioning process for artists is just as horrible as it can be for commissioners. Given enough bad responses, I completely understand why some people would ward it off altogether. It's like if you owned a shitty toaster (this is especially apt because I DO own a shitty toaster that does just this); and 1 out of 10 times you used it, it shocks you. You'd throw the damn thing away after enough shocks, right? Unless you're a masochist and you really need toast?
Junco always needs toast to sate her habits of buying reference books that earns her MORE TOAST. meh. I dunno. Maybe i'll take a month or two off after this round of commissions are over. Maybe i'll just start up new commissions in January. I dunno. Your thoughts? How to other artists cope with this?
WHEN I WAS A YOUNG WHIPPERSNAPPER doodling my sketchy mc crappy sketches and making that dog face with a hat where you use the # 25, I remember the people I watched on deviantart who were pumping out commissions left and right, suddenly refusing to take any commissions at all. And I laughed at them. HOW SPOILED they were to have such a gift and to be completely stuck up about sharing it, FOR MONEY. WHAT A LAUGH. If I had that talent, I'd do commissions until my fingers were crippled in pain and fell off, and even then i'd paint with my toes until those fell off too. The idea that a person would work so hard to do something they loved, only to wrap up tightly within themselves and never share that gift again. It baffled me.
I'm uh...not so baffled anymore.
These past 3 days alone been's pretty, well, interesting. Long story short, I can't help but feel like a dirty prostitute through my own actions, and through people's words to me. If nothing else, I'm a damn industrious whore, good to my word. But a skank none the less.
In one situation regarding a dangly badge, after I told the person thier directions were not clear, they told me to ...hold on I can get the exact wording for you: " I paid you a little extra on this work, you could make an effort. I've been patient, really nice, but now it's over. I've paid you more than you asked to so this work and you're gonna finish it!" and of course this is out of context, i was fully being crabby on my own rights. But this comment was still pretty out of the blue. Reading this, I mean, you can't help but feel like you're worth absolutely nothing, that you're there to pump out artwork and nothing else. That situation was resolved, either way.
In another, I had a commissioner hounding me about getting a sketch done; even though I told them that I was going to a convention, and that I would be absent some days after while I looked for a place to live, and maybe take a few days off past that, because driving 7 hours, well, gets a little tiring. So I get another note about it, and I tell them yes, i can start your sketch, give me a few hours and i'll get it out to you. So i pull my tired, sick ass out of bed, fiddle around with the composition a few time, and sketch it up. I show it to them, they ask for changes. Open photoshop back up, make the changes, show it again. They want more changes. Open up photoshop, make the changes, show it again. They want more changes. Open up photoshop, change it again, show it again. They liked it the second time. Change it back a bit, finally come to an agreeance on the picture. I give them the amount it'll cost and my paypal, and there's an issue- The price is too high. Also, btw, go ahead and start painting but i'm going on vacation until the 5th. I've sent notes since then, and all of them are read, but never returned. I tear out my hair and move onto the next commissioner. I'm still sick.
in another, i'm asking a person if they'd like me to personalize their badge , laminate and ship it out to them, and the only response back is "it is going to cost me money"
I dunno. I love bringing your guys's visions to life, I love painting and expressing our collaborative artistic babies, I love working with you all. But sometimes I feel like i'm trying to reach out and hug a cactus. That is a seriously stupid simile, but it's adequate. The commissioning process for artists is just as horrible as it can be for commissioners. Given enough bad responses, I completely understand why some people would ward it off altogether. It's like if you owned a shitty toaster (this is especially apt because I DO own a shitty toaster that does just this); and 1 out of 10 times you used it, it shocks you. You'd throw the damn thing away after enough shocks, right? Unless you're a masochist and you really need toast?
Junco always needs toast to sate her habits of buying reference books that earns her MORE TOAST. meh. I dunno. Maybe i'll take a month or two off after this round of commissions are over. Maybe i'll just start up new commissions in January. I dunno. Your thoughts? How to other artists cope with this?
Why must you spaz out now
So, i'm trying to move to Cleveland...ish...area. The contact with my parents right now is pretty infrequent. I do better on my own. But occasionally I need to rely on them for something, which is generally how most stress in my life starts. This time it's with my dad. I guess my mom sent him an e-mail about what his plans were for helping me move to Cleveland- my folks have been divorced for about 3 years now (in the anti-marriage registry, the 3 year divorce anniversary is the childish-retort anniversary) asking if he was aware of this, if he would be available. Below his his entire response ( my mom sent it to me because she's both confused, and thinks it's hilarious)
Sherri ;
So what do you need for a reply , I know where our daughter is
moving , she has my blessing. I,m enjoying her doing something
I could not . I was working 1978 --- --dreams----
First off, my dad confuses the comma and the apostrophe all the time. I've tried to teach him otherwise, but yeah, stubborn Germans are stubborn. Secondly, i have no ideaw what the 1978 line means, and what dash-dash-dash-dash 'dreams' dot dot dot means either. But basically my mom took this that my dad was not going to help me move. (he has a pickup truck, and I have a few big items to move) She calls me and gives me the heads up, and I call my dad and...TENDERLY ask what he means by the e-mail. He starts with "Well, we need to talk about your healthcare" --out of the blue--- "What about it?" "Why haven't you been paying me the last two months?" " I was busy working to get ready for a convention, we live hours apart from one another, and I forgot?" "that's not an excuse" Basically I have to pay 150 bucks (three months of healthcare) to have him help me move, or he won't do it. Personally, I thought working my ass off and rushing to finish work for AC was a good excuse, but WRONG AGAIN. This coming from the guy that as I just get back from a convention, and i'm counting my money happily, leans over and just takes a fifty for himself as payment for insurance. That I have to glare at him to put it back because FUCK, just let me have this happiness for a moment, you goddamn happiness leech.
So after I tell him yes, I'll pay him, and after he explains to me why it's important to pay people the money you owe (ironic since he owed me some 2 K for my last semester of school and suddenly didn't feel like paying) a few times, he's fine with moving me out. But I'm wary. My dad goes on tangents; It's like Man PMS, but it lasts a month or so at a time. He gets these notions in his head that i'm too dependent on him (Which is epic bullshit) and that he needs to isolate and insult me just so I'm more prepared for the world. That throwing away all my childhood possessions because they take up too much clutter in the house he's trying to sell, then immediately pulling it off the market after I do so, will make me a better person.
Maybe it'll make me a person able to use commas as apostrophes, fuck if I know. But worse come to worse, i move with a carload of possessions. And honestly, i'd be just fine with that too.
Sherri ;
So what do you need for a reply , I know where our daughter is
moving , she has my blessing. I,m enjoying her doing something
I could not . I was working 1978 --- --dreams----
First off, my dad confuses the comma and the apostrophe all the time. I've tried to teach him otherwise, but yeah, stubborn Germans are stubborn. Secondly, i have no ideaw what the 1978 line means, and what dash-dash-dash-dash 'dreams' dot dot dot means either. But basically my mom took this that my dad was not going to help me move. (he has a pickup truck, and I have a few big items to move) She calls me and gives me the heads up, and I call my dad and...TENDERLY ask what he means by the e-mail. He starts with "Well, we need to talk about your healthcare" --out of the blue--- "What about it?" "Why haven't you been paying me the last two months?" " I was busy working to get ready for a convention, we live hours apart from one another, and I forgot?" "that's not an excuse" Basically I have to pay 150 bucks (three months of healthcare) to have him help me move, or he won't do it. Personally, I thought working my ass off and rushing to finish work for AC was a good excuse, but WRONG AGAIN. This coming from the guy that as I just get back from a convention, and i'm counting my money happily, leans over and just takes a fifty for himself as payment for insurance. That I have to glare at him to put it back because FUCK, just let me have this happiness for a moment, you goddamn happiness leech.
So after I tell him yes, I'll pay him, and after he explains to me why it's important to pay people the money you owe (ironic since he owed me some 2 K for my last semester of school and suddenly didn't feel like paying) a few times, he's fine with moving me out. But I'm wary. My dad goes on tangents; It's like Man PMS, but it lasts a month or so at a time. He gets these notions in his head that i'm too dependent on him (Which is epic bullshit) and that he needs to isolate and insult me just so I'm more prepared for the world. That throwing away all my childhood possessions because they take up too much clutter in the house he's trying to sell, then immediately pulling it off the market after I do so, will make me a better person.
Maybe it'll make me a person able to use commas as apostrophes, fuck if I know. But worse come to worse, i move with a carload of possessions. And honestly, i'd be just fine with that too.
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