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.
Fuck You Robin Robinson
June 7th 2011
No. no it's not lovely. 96 degrees with the heat index at 100 and something is NOT LOVELY. Just because you live by the lake, and you get to be some smart-ass pompadore and brag about how cool the lake winds are, does not make you able to make the statement that it's not that bad out there. I live out there. It's bad. I ran my AC all day and the lowest it got was 87 degrees. I saw 3 squirrels in the 20 minute walk I took, and all of them were passed out on the sidewalk. It was 90 degrees last night at 9 pm. That isn't cool. IT CERTAINLY ISN'T LOVELY.
Robin Robinson's a news anchorwoman for Chicago, I'm still within the chicago range, so i still get their news. Living next to the lake has the benefit of keeping temperatures anywhere from 5-15 degrees cooler. So when it's 96 by me, it's 82 by them. And apparently RR thinks that 98 degrees is awesomely comfortable weather. I remained perfectly still, no activity inside with my AC on, and I still sweat my ass off. NOT COOL MANG. NOT COOL.
Literally.
No. no it's not lovely. 96 degrees with the heat index at 100 and something is NOT LOVELY. Just because you live by the lake, and you get to be some smart-ass pompadore and brag about how cool the lake winds are, does not make you able to make the statement that it's not that bad out there. I live out there. It's bad. I ran my AC all day and the lowest it got was 87 degrees. I saw 3 squirrels in the 20 minute walk I took, and all of them were passed out on the sidewalk. It was 90 degrees last night at 9 pm. That isn't cool. IT CERTAINLY ISN'T LOVELY.
Robin Robinson's a news anchorwoman for Chicago, I'm still within the chicago range, so i still get their news. Living next to the lake has the benefit of keeping temperatures anywhere from 5-15 degrees cooler. So when it's 96 by me, it's 82 by them. And apparently RR thinks that 98 degrees is awesomely comfortable weather. I remained perfectly still, no activity inside with my AC on, and I still sweat my ass off. NOT COOL MANG. NOT COOL.
Literally.
Junk-O
So I'm holding my grandmother's hand and shes' finally awake after sleeping the first 2 hours i was there. She makes a mention how soft my hands are, then grips them really tight and makes this horrible face. Both me and my dad look at each other and start asking if everythings okay. She puts her hand back down (which it's right by her ass) and goes "It's the bowel movement. I've soiled the bed" and keeps holding my hand. I give her the <:[ face and keep gingerly holding her hand while my dad alerts the nurses.
I want you to hate me
That's right, time to let your angst SEEEETH on through to hate me. Why? Well, for many good and probably half-thought out reasons! YOU'LL ALL QUAKE BENEATH MY DIABOLICAL JACK-ASSERY EVENTUALLY.
1. I'm a firm believer that the best compliment one artist can give to another is "Dude, i fucking hate you" It not only puts a sort of...light-hearted spin on a compliment in a way that shows a bit of envy and a bit of jealousy for their work, but it keeps things playful. It can be kinda awkward to gush how much you like someone's work to their face, but saying that you hate their fucking guts gives the same reward(in the right tone), sans the awkwardness. Case in point, this girl in my class back in college. Her work was....breathtaking, i'll beat her ass someday, but it was amazing. I gushed more then a few times about how I appreciated this...or that about it, and she was practically running for the position of "ms humble artist" . She got weird and kinda waivery that approach. But when we'd say "Dude, i hate your ass" , she'd laugh and bow and thank us for the compliment.
2. At least through e-personas, it seems to be a lot easier just to come off as a dick (both literally and figuratively) Being completely honest, I find myself working harder at being thought of as a calloused smartass then to painstakingly try and prove how nice and smart i can be. Did you know I've worked for Habitat for Humanity? or that i socialize feral kittens in my spare time?(not...now, but last summer) How about that I was part of 100 influential people of 2000 for trying to save a pond being filled in by development when I was 13. HOW ABOUT THAT I COUNSELED SUICIDAL KIDS FOR A WHILE. NO? Because I don't bring that shit up anymore. Beyond it being kinda preachy to do so, it's easier to be "mean". WHYYYY you may ask? Well, because i used to do this. I used to post funny pictures of myself every now and then, used to do requests all the time, bend and twist with every faint effin' wind. I can tell you exactly what it got me. I got stepped on. Mercilessly. People would come to me with the most inane shit and DEMAND that I do it for them. People would act like my friends to only whore artwork out of me. Trust me, nothing feels more...soulless then having a friend demand you do artwork for them or you're not worth the time. Plus, people who could drag your looks or appearance into an argument would, at any time and for any reason. FOR example, i gave a critique to some girl on DA 3-4 years ago. Her immediate retort was that I was just some stupid blond bimbo who didn't know shit. Was it relevant to the argument? It sure wasn't! But i took that picture down (which was of me doing a handstand, no less) and suddenly WOW, I had credibility back. That's fucked up.
That doesn't really work into the "asshole" part of this (more the dick part) but the pointless whoring of art does.
3.... I do things like this: http://www.etsy.com/shop/MutagenStudios THEY'RE GONE, MOTHERFUCKERS, GONE. I'm about to dump the rest of them into the trash! BWAHAHAHAHAHHAA. Your precious dangly necklaces are GONE. LOATHE ME I SAY.
4. I have a sneaking suspicion that if people think i'm an ass, that I'll get less assholes for commissions. LEMMIE SAY, that 9/10 commissioners I get are really fantastic. I mean it. I haven't had a "bad commissioner" in.... many many moons. At least one that the commission's gone through to production, in comparison to the guy who wanted all rights for 15 dollars back some while ago, and was dead set on getting a lawyer to hand them over for me(before more then the lineart was done....back when i effin' did lineart) , and a guy that I don't really wanna mention because even if I'm an asshole, i have standards. we can replace him with the guy who practically flipped the table at a convention that I wouldn't draw his pant less character. Even now, i get people ready to cop a serious 'tude if won't draw them free stuff. Now if you people thought I was some sorta monster, I think this would happen less. Maybe. Maybe i'm just delusional. MAYBE THAT'S PART OF THE MAGIC.
5. If you wanna hear something rather lame, i'm already enacting this slow, transitional change. See the avatar? It's intentionally assholish looking. It was the cutsy one that I have on my account, and then ...SOMETHING *wink wink nudge n-i got hassled by someone-udge* and BAM. Dickish. And I've seen a positive change from it. So while a lot of this journal is SARCASTIC as fuck, unfortunately, there's truth to it too.
I dunno. Maybe it's just easier to be hated. What do you guys think?
1. I'm a firm believer that the best compliment one artist can give to another is "Dude, i fucking hate you" It not only puts a sort of...light-hearted spin on a compliment in a way that shows a bit of envy and a bit of jealousy for their work, but it keeps things playful. It can be kinda awkward to gush how much you like someone's work to their face, but saying that you hate their fucking guts gives the same reward(in the right tone), sans the awkwardness. Case in point, this girl in my class back in college. Her work was....breathtaking, i'll beat her ass someday, but it was amazing. I gushed more then a few times about how I appreciated this...or that about it, and she was practically running for the position of "ms humble artist" . She got weird and kinda waivery that approach. But when we'd say "Dude, i hate your ass" , she'd laugh and bow and thank us for the compliment.
2. At least through e-personas, it seems to be a lot easier just to come off as a dick (both literally and figuratively) Being completely honest, I find myself working harder at being thought of as a calloused smartass then to painstakingly try and prove how nice and smart i can be. Did you know I've worked for Habitat for Humanity? or that i socialize feral kittens in my spare time?(not...now, but last summer) How about that I was part of 100 influential people of 2000 for trying to save a pond being filled in by development when I was 13. HOW ABOUT THAT I COUNSELED SUICIDAL KIDS FOR A WHILE. NO? Because I don't bring that shit up anymore. Beyond it being kinda preachy to do so, it's easier to be "mean". WHYYYY you may ask? Well, because i used to do this. I used to post funny pictures of myself every now and then, used to do requests all the time, bend and twist with every faint effin' wind. I can tell you exactly what it got me. I got stepped on. Mercilessly. People would come to me with the most inane shit and DEMAND that I do it for them. People would act like my friends to only whore artwork out of me. Trust me, nothing feels more...soulless then having a friend demand you do artwork for them or you're not worth the time. Plus, people who could drag your looks or appearance into an argument would, at any time and for any reason. FOR example, i gave a critique to some girl on DA 3-4 years ago. Her immediate retort was that I was just some stupid blond bimbo who didn't know shit. Was it relevant to the argument? It sure wasn't! But i took that picture down (which was of me doing a handstand, no less) and suddenly WOW, I had credibility back. That's fucked up.
That doesn't really work into the "asshole" part of this (more the dick part) but the pointless whoring of art does.
3.... I do things like this: http://www.etsy.com/shop/MutagenStudios THEY'RE GONE, MOTHERFUCKERS, GONE. I'm about to dump the rest of them into the trash! BWAHAHAHAHAHHAA. Your precious dangly necklaces are GONE. LOATHE ME I SAY.
4. I have a sneaking suspicion that if people think i'm an ass, that I'll get less assholes for commissions. LEMMIE SAY, that 9/10 commissioners I get are really fantastic. I mean it. I haven't had a "bad commissioner" in.... many many moons. At least one that the commission's gone through to production, in comparison to the guy who wanted all rights for 15 dollars back some while ago, and was dead set on getting a lawyer to hand them over for me(before more then the lineart was done....back when i effin' did lineart) , and a guy that I don't really wanna mention because even if I'm an asshole, i have standards. we can replace him with the guy who practically flipped the table at a convention that I wouldn't draw his pant less character. Even now, i get people ready to cop a serious 'tude if won't draw them free stuff. Now if you people thought I was some sorta monster, I think this would happen less. Maybe. Maybe i'm just delusional. MAYBE THAT'S PART OF THE MAGIC.
5. If you wanna hear something rather lame, i'm already enacting this slow, transitional change. See the avatar? It's intentionally assholish looking. It was the cutsy one that I have on my account, and then ...SOMETHING *wink wink nudge n-i got hassled by someone-udge* and BAM. Dickish. And I've seen a positive change from it. So while a lot of this journal is SARCASTIC as fuck, unfortunately, there's truth to it too.
I dunno. Maybe it's just easier to be hated. What do you guys think?
Oh, Canada.
march 16th 2011
So! Back from my self proclaimed multi-national tour of various jerks I know on the internet. (i mean that lovingly, sue me for being punchy after driving 6 hours straight) So let's get some totals up.
1340 miles driven
6 states, 1 province driven through
Roughly 21 hours of total driving
4 tickets avoided
2 exchanges where I was yelled at crossing the border for "Doing it wrong" -
- quick word of advice - 1, don't cross Sarnia/Bridge to Canada without money on you. 2. Don't tell the US douchelord customs guy that you made sales in Canada. Both lead to yelling.
4 meals eaten in-car
22 "Tim Bits" eaten (many of which were Apple fritters)
2 meals eaten at Tim Hortons
Infinitely awesome people met.
So FE had a little under 450 people attending. It was my first small-ish con i've ever been to, and they're a lot of fun, I like the more personal atmosphere, and the more relaxed way of peddling your illegal american goods to unsuspecting canucks. I didn't get to see much of the convention, but i heard good things about the panels and everythiing else from my secretive agents, AKA anyone I could pester for news about the outside world. So it was pretty cool! I haven't been to Canada since I was around 8 or 9 years old, and learned some things. Since I'm all for awesome list-making, here they are.
1. Milk in Canada comes in bags. Why.
2. Some Canadians reeeaaallly don't like Americans.
3.People in Canada speed just as much as Americans do. I dunno why this was news to me, lol.
4. The Brick is an awesomely canadian-looking sports mart-store.
5. They have Dairy queen there!
6.Toonies and loonies!
7. Their money system, while looking quite monopoly-esque, is pretty ingenious. We need to have more two dollar and one-dollare coins, paper dollars are so very not efficient.
8. The whole range of Canadian accents (thanks cipher!)
9. Pennsylvania and Indiana MUST have 75% of thier commerce based in Fireworks, I swear.
10 In winter, everything from Chicago to Toronto is about the same muddy nasty-ass color.
So that's my report. I'm still in cool-down mode that's gonna extend until Friday, when everything will start back up- I have a batch of dangly badges to do (note me if you wanna get in on it) , a sketch to finish, then Tlailaxu's commission to do. Again, it was a pleasure meeting everyone, from Kitchener to Cleveland, but i'd like to retire to my little evil hole in the wall for a few days to recouperate.
So! Back from my self proclaimed multi-national tour of various jerks I know on the internet. (i mean that lovingly, sue me for being punchy after driving 6 hours straight) So let's get some totals up.
1340 miles driven
6 states, 1 province driven through
Roughly 21 hours of total driving
4 tickets avoided
2 exchanges where I was yelled at crossing the border for "Doing it wrong" -
- quick word of advice - 1, don't cross Sarnia/Bridge to Canada without money on you. 2. Don't tell the US douchelord customs guy that you made sales in Canada. Both lead to yelling.
4 meals eaten in-car
22 "Tim Bits" eaten (many of which were Apple fritters)
2 meals eaten at Tim Hortons
Infinitely awesome people met.
So FE had a little under 450 people attending. It was my first small-ish con i've ever been to, and they're a lot of fun, I like the more personal atmosphere, and the more relaxed way of peddling your illegal american goods to unsuspecting canucks. I didn't get to see much of the convention, but i heard good things about the panels and everythiing else from my secretive agents, AKA anyone I could pester for news about the outside world. So it was pretty cool! I haven't been to Canada since I was around 8 or 9 years old, and learned some things. Since I'm all for awesome list-making, here they are.
1. Milk in Canada comes in bags. Why.
2. Some Canadians reeeaaallly don't like Americans.
3.People in Canada speed just as much as Americans do. I dunno why this was news to me, lol.
4. The Brick is an awesomely canadian-looking sports mart-store.
5. They have Dairy queen there!
6.Toonies and loonies!
7. Their money system, while looking quite monopoly-esque, is pretty ingenious. We need to have more two dollar and one-dollare coins, paper dollars are so very not efficient.
8. The whole range of Canadian accents (thanks cipher!)
9. Pennsylvania and Indiana MUST have 75% of thier commerce based in Fireworks, I swear.
10 In winter, everything from Chicago to Toronto is about the same muddy nasty-ass color.
So that's my report. I'm still in cool-down mode that's gonna extend until Friday, when everything will start back up- I have a batch of dangly badges to do (note me if you wanna get in on it) , a sketch to finish, then Tlailaxu's commission to do. Again, it was a pleasure meeting everyone, from Kitchener to Cleveland, but i'd like to retire to my little evil hole in the wall for a few days to recouperate.
Merlin + Super Irony Powers
So. Yeah. remember that rediculous 400 dollar weld BS? And how rediculous it was? With it's rediculousness? And the elaboration on about fumes getting into my car and starting fires?
Well. No fires. But that shit did completely blow. Irony has bitten my ass good.
It sounds like my car is the result of a butt-baby between an souped up Motorcycle and a jet engine... while dragging a garbage can full of firecrackers. I LAUGHED at the silly man telling me it'd be noisy. I LAUGHED at him. Tiny crack? BULLOCKS TO YOUR NOISY. HAND FLOP AND A PSSHAW, GOOD LOONY.
*facepalm*
...though i totally had a blast scaring the shit out of people to and from the mechanic.(he was closed)
It has been one of those days. I'm officially a small business in the state of IL- and for some bullshit credibility like Aeropostal's 1987 guff, I tell them i've been a businessfeather since APRIL. R D R R. Next week, I get a letter telling me "Hey, dickhole, you been a business since April? BITCH WHERE'S MY MONEY I'M GONNA FUCK YOU UP" "oh sweet god no! Stupidity! I plead the stupidity!" "TOUGH, TAXES!" *IRS gangbang ensues*
So i've been preparing my 2nd and 3rd quarterly taxes. yes. that sounds exactly as much fun as it looks. twice as much fun as it's typed. oh... wow... hold on to the fun there folks. it's like an emotional rollercoaster.
weeeeeeee
That was this morning. I also find out that the chinese place by me overcharged my last bill by 100 bucks. Instead of 11.55, I've paid 111.55 . Four calls, 2 visits, and 3 mistaken names later, (Brittany, Bethany, and Allison) I get that back in cash. This is probably the high-point in my day.
I find a letter from my old landlord and get oh-so excited. He's supposed to have given me my security deposit back some 2 months ago, and has been a turd about it. But HUZZAHS, he's done it! The old cooch has come through!
eeeexxceept it's not a check. it's an itemization of charges. Without going much into it because i'm tired as fuck, he charged us for lightbulbs, paint, cleaning fees (we scrubbed the unholy shit out of that place, cleaning fee my gills) AND for August's rent. If any of you have been around long enough, you'll remember the freak-out journals where I'm trying to find a place to LIVE, since we left our old place early and the new people are pushy to move in. Also the last month's water bill, which my roommate paid.
On the bottom he's got the amount I owe - some 45 EXTRA dollars to him, and my name angrily highlighted like he had an anger-seizure out of rage. Later in the day my roommate called me and pretty much absorbed thier souls out of bewildering fit of rage, which makes me laugh because that's just what I want to hear. How she's going to personally and monetarily dismember thier bowels from 2 hours away. She's going to threaten them with court. I can't wait to see what happens.
But quite possibly my favorite item of the day, a throw-back to the grand ol' times when life was simple and love was Free 99, was yours truely taking a header into a bush. On a bike. WITH YOUR DANGLY NECKLACES I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY WHAT YOU CONTRIBUTED TO.
Yyyyyuuupp; going about 20 MPH or so and fighting with my POS headphone earbuds that fall out of my ears with a whisper of a breeze, I careened right into those super-tall privacy bushes that everyone and thier fuckin' grandpappy puts up, encroachin' my sidewalk. It's just one-moment earburd rage, next moment, face full of leaves. I broke a fair amount of branches, scratched the shit outta my one arm, scratches up the face, across the chest, up the leg and a few bloody spots on my other hand. Also bent my glasses out of shape and gave me a good face-bruise. Ass in the air and struggling out of the bushes, I realize i've taken my header in front of the retirement home. Old man in a hoverround motors on up and asks If I'm okay. Before I answer he turns around and leaves. Few moments of serenity as being okay, I proceed to kick my hoopy bike like it's got feelings.
Though seriously, It did make me reminisce quite a bit. I did not grow up on the barbie side of town, I made my home down knee-scrap alley. It was almost fun. Now I get to tell people about the *looks at her scratches and scrapes*... angry... monkey...toddler fight I was in. Pah.
There's no way to macho this up.
But yeah. That's been my day. I hear rain and I know I've got some 3 month old ice cream calling my name.
Well. No fires. But that shit did completely blow. Irony has bitten my ass good.
It sounds like my car is the result of a butt-baby between an souped up Motorcycle and a jet engine... while dragging a garbage can full of firecrackers. I LAUGHED at the silly man telling me it'd be noisy. I LAUGHED at him. Tiny crack? BULLOCKS TO YOUR NOISY. HAND FLOP AND A PSSHAW, GOOD LOONY.
*facepalm*
...though i totally had a blast scaring the shit out of people to and from the mechanic.(he was closed)
It has been one of those days. I'm officially a small business in the state of IL- and for some bullshit credibility like Aeropostal's 1987 guff, I tell them i've been a businessfeather since APRIL. R D R R. Next week, I get a letter telling me "Hey, dickhole, you been a business since April? BITCH WHERE'S MY MONEY I'M GONNA FUCK YOU UP" "oh sweet god no! Stupidity! I plead the stupidity!" "TOUGH, TAXES!" *IRS gangbang ensues*
So i've been preparing my 2nd and 3rd quarterly taxes. yes. that sounds exactly as much fun as it looks. twice as much fun as it's typed. oh... wow... hold on to the fun there folks. it's like an emotional rollercoaster.
weeeeeeee
That was this morning. I also find out that the chinese place by me overcharged my last bill by 100 bucks. Instead of 11.55, I've paid 111.55 . Four calls, 2 visits, and 3 mistaken names later, (Brittany, Bethany, and Allison) I get that back in cash. This is probably the high-point in my day.
I find a letter from my old landlord and get oh-so excited. He's supposed to have given me my security deposit back some 2 months ago, and has been a turd about it. But HUZZAHS, he's done it! The old cooch has come through!
eeeexxceept it's not a check. it's an itemization of charges. Without going much into it because i'm tired as fuck, he charged us for lightbulbs, paint, cleaning fees (we scrubbed the unholy shit out of that place, cleaning fee my gills) AND for August's rent. If any of you have been around long enough, you'll remember the freak-out journals where I'm trying to find a place to LIVE, since we left our old place early and the new people are pushy to move in. Also the last month's water bill, which my roommate paid.
On the bottom he's got the amount I owe - some 45 EXTRA dollars to him, and my name angrily highlighted like he had an anger-seizure out of rage. Later in the day my roommate called me and pretty much absorbed thier souls out of bewildering fit of rage, which makes me laugh because that's just what I want to hear. How she's going to personally and monetarily dismember thier bowels from 2 hours away. She's going to threaten them with court. I can't wait to see what happens.
But quite possibly my favorite item of the day, a throw-back to the grand ol' times when life was simple and love was Free 99, was yours truely taking a header into a bush. On a bike. WITH YOUR DANGLY NECKLACES I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY WHAT YOU CONTRIBUTED TO.
Yyyyyuuupp; going about 20 MPH or so and fighting with my POS headphone earbuds that fall out of my ears with a whisper of a breeze, I careened right into those super-tall privacy bushes that everyone and thier fuckin' grandpappy puts up, encroachin' my sidewalk. It's just one-moment earburd rage, next moment, face full of leaves. I broke a fair amount of branches, scratched the shit outta my one arm, scratches up the face, across the chest, up the leg and a few bloody spots on my other hand. Also bent my glasses out of shape and gave me a good face-bruise. Ass in the air and struggling out of the bushes, I realize i've taken my header in front of the retirement home. Old man in a hoverround motors on up and asks If I'm okay. Before I answer he turns around and leaves. Few moments of serenity as being okay, I proceed to kick my hoopy bike like it's got feelings.
Though seriously, It did make me reminisce quite a bit. I did not grow up on the barbie side of town, I made my home down knee-scrap alley. It was almost fun. Now I get to tell people about the *looks at her scratches and scrapes*... angry... monkey...toddler fight I was in. Pah.
There's no way to macho this up.
But yeah. That's been my day. I hear rain and I know I've got some 3 month old ice cream calling my name.
Artistic douchebaggery mmkay?
Mmkay? = the quickest, most direct route for me to slap the shit out of you. I don't know what it is, and I don't know why these five effin' letters anger me so easily, but for fucks sake, I see this on someone's page and I instantly don't like them. Thnx is the spongy offspring of my hate for this word.
So for some reason i've been seeing around here and around FA and the other various sites I paruse this increased douche-snobbery. From "DON'T TOUCH MY STYLE, BRO" to "WHY WON'T PEOPLE PAY 500 DOLLARS FOR MY SHITTY DIGITAL PAINTINGS" I don't know what the hell has come over everyone. No doubt this isn't a new thing, and probably something common that i wasn't catching onto before, but for some reason it's been incredibly present this last week.
More then that, I can't seem to find a Pokemon picture that doesn't have something/someone's dick in it. What the shit?
As I slowly go up these skill-ranks, as I slowly get better and improve and etc and all that, the more I hate popular artists. The more their attitude annoys the shit out of me. The more that I see them as spastic frivolous douchelicks. They're the expression of what happens when you let whiny 15 year olds act the way they want. It's just ridiculous.
So for some reason i've been seeing around here and around FA and the other various sites I paruse this increased douche-snobbery. From "DON'T TOUCH MY STYLE, BRO" to "WHY WON'T PEOPLE PAY 500 DOLLARS FOR MY SHITTY DIGITAL PAINTINGS" I don't know what the hell has come over everyone. No doubt this isn't a new thing, and probably something common that i wasn't catching onto before, but for some reason it's been incredibly present this last week.
More then that, I can't seem to find a Pokemon picture that doesn't have something/someone's dick in it. What the shit?
As I slowly go up these skill-ranks, as I slowly get better and improve and etc and all that, the more I hate popular artists. The more their attitude annoys the shit out of me. The more that I see them as spastic frivolous douchelicks. They're the expression of what happens when you let whiny 15 year olds act the way they want. It's just ridiculous.
Merlin tried selling me a 50 dollar Air Filter
'cause they thought I was a jiiive turkey.
Plus the tits. Prroobably a decent factor in that as well.
*Cryptic Feathers is Cryptic*
Been... uh...watching a lot of blaxploitation films today.
YES ANYWAYS I went in to get my oil changed, and they give me that extra serious super-death look, that low tone of ... "Ma'am.... We need to talk to you about your car."
Oooh, sounds so serious. Whyyy sooooserious.
Best was HOW they said it. Like they were saying "Ma'am. We need to talk to you about your 'car' --- you know, that 18 year old hoop-dee of a vehicle you push around against it's will that'll soon consume your soul into a fiery blaze of 1992 glory"
So that take me into the great medium channel of my car's soul. Lift it up to show me all my ailments and point them out as we both stand under it, knocking shit around. Meanwhile, all I can think about is that if my car were a person, i'd be tickling it's stomach. Though raspberries on my car would probably give me horrible Non PC blackface. I'm far too German already for that.
I've worked on my car. I've done a lot of work myself with it, I've been with that car for the last 6-7 years, i've replaced it's battery, I've helped fix gears, had the alternator, breaks, starter, plugs, belts, and all sorts of other tasty goodbits replaced with it that qualifies me as a bit of a gearhead. Not so much that i'll be wriggling around on the crappy garage I live above, but enough to know what things cost, how much labor is, and when Merlin is blindsidingly climbing your financial windows and snatchin' your savings up.
I came in for a 22 dollar oil change. They told me I owed them 1400 dollars.
So with each... BLATANT display of my apparent retardation at costs (50 dollar air filter, 300 dollar struts, 400 dollar FUCKING WELD)--- i start laughing. I can't help it. Again, beyond it just being robbery, it's the WAAYYY he explains it. He takes the time to tell me what every bit of the car does the same way you might tell a deaf 3 year old. Literally. " THE AIR FILTER ... that little fuzzy guy right there--- takes the AAIR from the outside, and FILTERS it to your engine."
Wow. I am learning... SO much. At this point all I can think of is my english teacher hitting me with a newspaper going " YOU CAN'T USE THE WORD TO DEFINE ITSELF"
Honestly. It's an AIR FILTER. Before this enlightenment, I was fairly sure it filtered water. Some times it filtered sand, and on thursdays it filters rocks and bugs. Someone once told me they thought it filtered beer, but then I told him he was a fucking idiot. Seriously. But now.. NOW i know that it's a 50 (10 USD at Autozone) CRITICAL piece of gold that sits by your engine and filters...something. Dammit, now i've forgotten.
The list. Ohhh the list of things that "needed" to be done lest I "Endanger myself". Raise your knees up now for some slappin'. New struts. GAS struts (gas ones are unnecessary and a little high-end for my POS Hoopdy) Why? Well, because the car was old. Obviously. As he put it "the car needs to have those replaced once in it's life, and it's best to do that now" A patch on my exhaust pipe - I like how he said this one "Noticed your car's been a little louder lately?" (actual response) "No."
He told me that if the crack got any bigger (it's microscopic at this point) That i'd be likely to have fumes going into the car. Then proceeded to escalate that half-assed notion that I might have it start a fire...somehow. Apparently my car is one big bomb. Ya'll better step the fuck off at MFF, lest I get the BOMBMOBILE involved! danananananaanaaaahhh!
Though On a very serious note, I'll have to ban undercarriage smoking on my car. I'll have to cut down on the time I drive over campfires as well. We all make sacrifices in life.
Other bullshit: My spare tire needed to be checked that I it wasn't swiped with an actual donut. Rotate my tires, Check for gopher holes, Test pressure, Replace windshield wipers (for 20 bucks each, I might add (( that's another thing that's like...5 bucks each)) ) Flush the AC. I actually cursed at the guy for this one, he hadn't been letting me laugh or talk for a good 10 minutes at this point. Him "We'll need to flush your AC, make sure it's working just fine " Me interrupting and laughing ; "Oh, I can save you the trouble on that one, it's completely fucked over. " Other things- check that my gas cap wasn't replaced with a pillow. Make sure my gas lines weren't made of candy, and get some belts replaced that I know still have a good 50,000 miles in them.
Basically, I stopped him. He gave me the spiel about how much i'd like to care for my car, that the 800 dollar 120,000 mile care-package was going to have me good for years and years to come, that the services NORMALLY added up to 2,000 USD (in... Uruguay, maybe) etc etc etc, and made the mistake of asking "what I thought about that." I don't get a lot of chances to "speak what I think" I take these opportunities VERY seriously. Guffaw.
I told him I know it was a 18 year old car, that it was not in the best condition, but it didn't need 90% of the things in there, that i'd just like my 22 dollar oil change and I'll be on my way. And I was. And as I drove that car, laughing with my dad on the phone at what a douchtastic thing they tried to pull on me, my car stunk like hell.
Because they over-filled the oil on it
Because they can't even get OIL right.
Douche-tards.
Plus the tits. Prroobably a decent factor in that as well.
*Cryptic Feathers is Cryptic*
Been... uh...watching a lot of blaxploitation films today.
YES ANYWAYS I went in to get my oil changed, and they give me that extra serious super-death look, that low tone of ... "Ma'am.... We need to talk to you about your car."
Oooh, sounds so serious. Whyyy sooooserious.
Best was HOW they said it. Like they were saying "Ma'am. We need to talk to you about your 'car' --- you know, that 18 year old hoop-dee of a vehicle you push around against it's will that'll soon consume your soul into a fiery blaze of 1992 glory"
So that take me into the great medium channel of my car's soul. Lift it up to show me all my ailments and point them out as we both stand under it, knocking shit around. Meanwhile, all I can think about is that if my car were a person, i'd be tickling it's stomach. Though raspberries on my car would probably give me horrible Non PC blackface. I'm far too German already for that.
I've worked on my car. I've done a lot of work myself with it, I've been with that car for the last 6-7 years, i've replaced it's battery, I've helped fix gears, had the alternator, breaks, starter, plugs, belts, and all sorts of other tasty goodbits replaced with it that qualifies me as a bit of a gearhead. Not so much that i'll be wriggling around on the crappy garage I live above, but enough to know what things cost, how much labor is, and when Merlin is blindsidingly climbing your financial windows and snatchin' your savings up.
I came in for a 22 dollar oil change. They told me I owed them 1400 dollars.
So with each... BLATANT display of my apparent retardation at costs (50 dollar air filter, 300 dollar struts, 400 dollar FUCKING WELD)--- i start laughing. I can't help it. Again, beyond it just being robbery, it's the WAAYYY he explains it. He takes the time to tell me what every bit of the car does the same way you might tell a deaf 3 year old. Literally. " THE AIR FILTER ... that little fuzzy guy right there--- takes the AAIR from the outside, and FILTERS it to your engine."
Wow. I am learning... SO much. At this point all I can think of is my english teacher hitting me with a newspaper going " YOU CAN'T USE THE WORD TO DEFINE ITSELF"
Honestly. It's an AIR FILTER. Before this enlightenment, I was fairly sure it filtered water. Some times it filtered sand, and on thursdays it filters rocks and bugs. Someone once told me they thought it filtered beer, but then I told him he was a fucking idiot. Seriously. But now.. NOW i know that it's a 50 (10 USD at Autozone) CRITICAL piece of gold that sits by your engine and filters...something. Dammit, now i've forgotten.
The list. Ohhh the list of things that "needed" to be done lest I "Endanger myself". Raise your knees up now for some slappin'. New struts. GAS struts (gas ones are unnecessary and a little high-end for my POS Hoopdy) Why? Well, because the car was old. Obviously. As he put it "the car needs to have those replaced once in it's life, and it's best to do that now" A patch on my exhaust pipe - I like how he said this one "Noticed your car's been a little louder lately?" (actual response) "No."
He told me that if the crack got any bigger (it's microscopic at this point) That i'd be likely to have fumes going into the car. Then proceeded to escalate that half-assed notion that I might have it start a fire...somehow. Apparently my car is one big bomb. Ya'll better step the fuck off at MFF, lest I get the BOMBMOBILE involved! danananananaanaaaahhh!
Though On a very serious note, I'll have to ban undercarriage smoking on my car. I'll have to cut down on the time I drive over campfires as well. We all make sacrifices in life.
Other bullshit: My spare tire needed to be checked that I it wasn't swiped with an actual donut. Rotate my tires, Check for gopher holes, Test pressure, Replace windshield wipers (for 20 bucks each, I might add (( that's another thing that's like...5 bucks each)) ) Flush the AC. I actually cursed at the guy for this one, he hadn't been letting me laugh or talk for a good 10 minutes at this point. Him "We'll need to flush your AC, make sure it's working just fine " Me interrupting and laughing ; "Oh, I can save you the trouble on that one, it's completely fucked over. " Other things- check that my gas cap wasn't replaced with a pillow. Make sure my gas lines weren't made of candy, and get some belts replaced that I know still have a good 50,000 miles in them.
Basically, I stopped him. He gave me the spiel about how much i'd like to care for my car, that the 800 dollar 120,000 mile care-package was going to have me good for years and years to come, that the services NORMALLY added up to 2,000 USD (in... Uruguay, maybe) etc etc etc, and made the mistake of asking "what I thought about that." I don't get a lot of chances to "speak what I think" I take these opportunities VERY seriously. Guffaw.
I told him I know it was a 18 year old car, that it was not in the best condition, but it didn't need 90% of the things in there, that i'd just like my 22 dollar oil change and I'll be on my way. And I was. And as I drove that car, laughing with my dad on the phone at what a douchtastic thing they tried to pull on me, my car stunk like hell.
Because they over-filled the oil on it
Because they can't even get OIL right.
Douche-tards.
CSMGS 2
Sept 16th 2010
I bring you the next chapter in fun, of crazy shit my grandmother says. CSMGS, for short.
1. She thinks the Gulf oil has reached Chicago. You heard me. She thinks the spilled oil from the gulf of mexico has wafted it's way up here, and sullied our driveways. Driving around a week ago she made the comment at all the slightly dirty driveways (it hasn't rained around here in a few weeks) "I can't believe that Gulf oil made it up here, what a terrible thing" In which I was in the backseat, making a 8D face to my dad. The gulfs directly south of us, some...950 miles. No jet-stream short of a SUPER HURRICANE could do anything even remotely possible to that.
2. She thinks i'm a pot-head. This too came from the same visit as mentioned above, and confirmed that the last 3 forwarded e-mails she's sent me have all been about the wacky adventures of people smoking weed (the last one was some stupid thing about a koala smoking a joint with a skink. IT'S AS HILARIOUS AS IT SOUNDS) I mentioned that her buddah looks like he was smoking a cigarette, and she goes "Oh yeah, you'd know all about those ' funny looking ' cigarettes, don't you? *laughs*" Her reasoning why? Art. That all artists are pot-heads. I do art. Thus I do pot. After I heard that I sorta stood up a little taller and went "WHHHHAAT" Nothing could convince her otherwise, even as I basically told her "BITCH I'M ALLERGIC TO PLANTS, HOW IN THE HELL DO YOU EXPECT ME TO SMOKE WEED" that she looks at me and goes "Well, there's other ways" and I go "BETCH JUST WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK I DO?!"
3. She thinks that the president sells personal shot-glasses. Here's that story: Crazy grandma goes to a garage sale, finds a shotglass with the 'Great seal of the united states" on it and asks the woman where she got it from. That woman tells her that her daughter picked it up in washington DC as she was in the services, and that eventually made it back to her mom, and now in this garage sale.
Picked up in Washington DC. You know what that is, right? It's some shitty souvenir store. What does crazy grandma think? That it was picked up at the white house, of course! ITS FUCKING VALUABLE AS HELL. That's why the woman only sold it to her for a goddamn quarter! WHO MAKES THESE CONNECTIONS? Who would honestly go "Oh, this must be the president's shot-glass!" WHY would you think that? So, when she gives it to my dad as a present for his birthday and proceeds to pester the shit out of him about it "Don't you like the shot glass, jim? IT's real gold, jim! IT"S FROM THE PRESIDENT, JIM. JIM JIM JIM JIM" as my dad goes "Jesus Christ mom, i'm driving!" as she pretty much smacking him upside the face with the shot glass.
4. She sympathizes with the Westboro Baptist Church: For anyone who doesn't know who these people are, they attend tragic funerals of mass death, or any sort of public funeral with signs like "God hates Fags" "Faggots should die" Even if the people being buried weren't gay. They purposely piss off people with the hope that if they fight back, they'll sue them for every penny they own because it's a tiny, fucked up congregation of lawyers and assholes.
I tried to use them as an example of how stupid groups can bring a community together through thier communal hatred of them, like when the Westboro Baptist Church came to NIU to protest the 5 people who died here in our school shooting. (They also praised the shooter as doing God's work at killing all these other fags off) and she goes "But they're just representing a integral part of the old testament" as I stop dead in my tracks and gape at her. Lost whatever respect I had left for that woman.
Long story short, old people are just as informed as toddlers sometimes.
I bring you the next chapter in fun, of crazy shit my grandmother says. CSMGS, for short.
1. She thinks the Gulf oil has reached Chicago. You heard me. She thinks the spilled oil from the gulf of mexico has wafted it's way up here, and sullied our driveways. Driving around a week ago she made the comment at all the slightly dirty driveways (it hasn't rained around here in a few weeks) "I can't believe that Gulf oil made it up here, what a terrible thing" In which I was in the backseat, making a 8D face to my dad. The gulfs directly south of us, some...950 miles. No jet-stream short of a SUPER HURRICANE could do anything even remotely possible to that.
2. She thinks i'm a pot-head. This too came from the same visit as mentioned above, and confirmed that the last 3 forwarded e-mails she's sent me have all been about the wacky adventures of people smoking weed (the last one was some stupid thing about a koala smoking a joint with a skink. IT'S AS HILARIOUS AS IT SOUNDS) I mentioned that her buddah looks like he was smoking a cigarette, and she goes "Oh yeah, you'd know all about those ' funny looking ' cigarettes, don't you? *laughs*" Her reasoning why? Art. That all artists are pot-heads. I do art. Thus I do pot. After I heard that I sorta stood up a little taller and went "WHHHHAAT" Nothing could convince her otherwise, even as I basically told her "BITCH I'M ALLERGIC TO PLANTS, HOW IN THE HELL DO YOU EXPECT ME TO SMOKE WEED" that she looks at me and goes "Well, there's other ways" and I go "BETCH JUST WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK I DO?!"
3. She thinks that the president sells personal shot-glasses. Here's that story: Crazy grandma goes to a garage sale, finds a shotglass with the 'Great seal of the united states" on it and asks the woman where she got it from. That woman tells her that her daughter picked it up in washington DC as she was in the services, and that eventually made it back to her mom, and now in this garage sale.
Picked up in Washington DC. You know what that is, right? It's some shitty souvenir store. What does crazy grandma think? That it was picked up at the white house, of course! ITS FUCKING VALUABLE AS HELL. That's why the woman only sold it to her for a goddamn quarter! WHO MAKES THESE CONNECTIONS? Who would honestly go "Oh, this must be the president's shot-glass!" WHY would you think that? So, when she gives it to my dad as a present for his birthday and proceeds to pester the shit out of him about it "Don't you like the shot glass, jim? IT's real gold, jim! IT"S FROM THE PRESIDENT, JIM. JIM JIM JIM JIM" as my dad goes "Jesus Christ mom, i'm driving!" as she pretty much smacking him upside the face with the shot glass.
4. She sympathizes with the Westboro Baptist Church: For anyone who doesn't know who these people are, they attend tragic funerals of mass death, or any sort of public funeral with signs like "God hates Fags" "Faggots should die" Even if the people being buried weren't gay. They purposely piss off people with the hope that if they fight back, they'll sue them for every penny they own because it's a tiny, fucked up congregation of lawyers and assholes.
I tried to use them as an example of how stupid groups can bring a community together through thier communal hatred of them, like when the Westboro Baptist Church came to NIU to protest the 5 people who died here in our school shooting. (They also praised the shooter as doing God's work at killing all these other fags off) and she goes "But they're just representing a integral part of the old testament" as I stop dead in my tracks and gape at her. Lost whatever respect I had left for that woman.
Long story short, old people are just as informed as toddlers sometimes.
Crazy shit my grandma says part 1
July 28th 2010
I get e-mails from my grandma. They're strange. Then I get CC'd for e-mails between my grandma and this time my aunt, and it makes me sit there and go "what in the great aunt jemimah's titties is this?" I did not add anything in here, this e-mail is as-is:
Titled: "God was in a good mood yesterday"
Carbon copied to... like.... everyone that I know in my family. My 13 year old cousin's on there as well.
"Hi Sweetie,
Yesterday I finally had my opportunity to see my urologist. I need to preface by explaining that I was quite anxious about why these familiar symptoms of interstitial cystitis were not calming down as easily as they had many other times. So after Mass on Sunday, a song from church was resonating in my head about how God loves us.
Finally after waiting an hour to see the good doctor he listened to my symptoms and at each one mentioned, he assured me that it was pretty classic for IC (interstitial cystitis). We made an appointment for an ultrasound, and later a cystoscopy (where they mildly sedate you and insert a probe to look around inside the bladder) as a diagnostic tool and sometimes a corrective tool as well. He will be stretching the bladder a bit to ease things for me.
On the way home I was much relieved that at last I had some reassurance and that we would be looking into matters. The new song that was then singing in my head was "Holy God we Praise Thy Name". You probably remember that. I get the impression that God has a DJ in heaven who specializes in giving me my heavenly messages in music form. Possibly this is because I get very uplifted when I am able to praise God in song. Anyway, I decided that God was pretty good at what he does and that he must have been in a really good mood yesterday to send me a special new song. Isn't that something? I think it is great. Don't know why or how this happens to me so often, but I am grateful. And I do think God was in a very good mood.
Love you,
Mom
Mom "
I wish God's DJ would spin me some phat beats. This e-mail is a golden insight to why I usually live 70 miles away, lmao. Hope you got some laughs outta it.
I get e-mails from my grandma. They're strange. Then I get CC'd for e-mails between my grandma and this time my aunt, and it makes me sit there and go "what in the great aunt jemimah's titties is this?" I did not add anything in here, this e-mail is as-is:
Titled: "God was in a good mood yesterday"
Carbon copied to... like.... everyone that I know in my family. My 13 year old cousin's on there as well.
"Hi Sweetie,
Yesterday I finally had my opportunity to see my urologist. I need to preface by explaining that I was quite anxious about why these familiar symptoms of interstitial cystitis were not calming down as easily as they had many other times. So after Mass on Sunday, a song from church was resonating in my head about how God loves us.
Finally after waiting an hour to see the good doctor he listened to my symptoms and at each one mentioned, he assured me that it was pretty classic for IC (interstitial cystitis). We made an appointment for an ultrasound, and later a cystoscopy (where they mildly sedate you and insert a probe to look around inside the bladder) as a diagnostic tool and sometimes a corrective tool as well. He will be stretching the bladder a bit to ease things for me.
On the way home I was much relieved that at last I had some reassurance and that we would be looking into matters. The new song that was then singing in my head was "Holy God we Praise Thy Name". You probably remember that. I get the impression that God has a DJ in heaven who specializes in giving me my heavenly messages in music form. Possibly this is because I get very uplifted when I am able to praise God in song. Anyway, I decided that God was pretty good at what he does and that he must have been in a really good mood yesterday to send me a special new song. Isn't that something? I think it is great. Don't know why or how this happens to me so often, but I am grateful. And I do think God was in a very good mood.
Love you,
Mom
Mom "
I wish God's DJ would spin me some phat beats. This e-mail is a golden insight to why I usually live 70 miles away, lmao. Hope you got some laughs outta it.
Graduating. Now with more cloud paper
June 7th 2010
Don't be surprised if this journal mysteriously has another journal on top of it in a few minutes. Parts of my family look over my DA page from time to time to.. I dunno...need a reason to shake their fists in disdain. At this point, I don't know what the fuck that side of the family thinks, and I honestly don't care anymore. I've learned to try and stop squeezing blood from those rocks. But yeah, they'll check that front page, and nothing really more then that.
So I still haven't been talking with my dad. For those tuning in, long story short, he tried to sex up his girlfriend instead of attending my graduation/art show. I was then blamed for not making it important enough to him, even though I called in advance to ask, I personally delivered his invitation, spoke of it for...roughly 4 months..>No! Ha! Longer then that, I was speaking of it around November 2009. What is that, 7 months? We'll go with 7 months. Couldn't bother taking an hour trip out. In fact, no one on my dad's side of the family bothered. My roommate (who is in the same class/art show) had relatives from Arkansas come up. They don't even come up for funerals.
So that next week is when the whole Ms. Grandmother "I can't lie to you and say that I honestly like your art" Radeck took me to a jewelry store to design a setting for a fire opal she's had forever. My brother got a watch that my great great grandfather carried around in WW1, presented to him like the fucking Olympic torch, and the ass-clown threw it into a box. So this fire opal, which has been talked to me like the damn Pink Panther is 6.8 Karats. It's huge. Before we find out the total, my grandmother tells me how she'd gladly spend up to 3K on a nice design, as long as i'll cherish it. The setting I design ends up costing around 1K - That's too much. Fire opal idea gets yanked. SENTIMENT IS FOR THE WEAK. Apparently. This is why I don't expect things from anyone anymore.
SOOO. These are the two people who are going to be running my SUPER SWEET GRADUATION PARTY OF EPIC AWESOMENESS. If you are not picking up the sarcasm on that one, lord have mercy on your soul. Btw, I haven't talked to either in at least a month. Also BTW, if my father can't spare a goddamn hour, how the hell is he going to run a grad party? We made this decision before things went sour, so I am glad it's happening. Buuut, already, things are crumbling. He's invited every person from both my mom's side and my dad's side....of course except my mom. Understandable, but still. Big...family party, and the only person whose actually been of help is banned from attending. It's like a big party of all the people who now, kinda frustrate me because they couldn't be bothered to take an interest. Or their interest stops just short of effort.
I got an e-mail from my grandmother saying that i'm getting the first invitation as the esteemed guest/artist. In that ...here, hold on, let me just copy it:
(e-mail previous to this just said i was excited for the party)
"Good. That's the spirit. We want to celebrate you and of course you will humbly accept all the gifts and complements on your beautiful artwork on display for all the guests. And as we spoil you with cash and complements you will be so resplendent in your creative way of saying thanks too. Right. That's the drama I am dreaming up for you.
Please plan to bring some of your beautiful artwork. It is good networking to start with friends and family and they can help broaden the following for your art career. You never know what can come out of it. But charm and magnanimity work wonders."
Because as you all know, i've been saying "FUCK YOU" to everyone who compliments my work. "Hey Andrea, I really like the colors on thi-" "FUCK YOU" I then proceed to punch them in the face and kick sand in thier face. Such is the role of an appointed black sheep. BADASSERY
She doesn't mean the way it comes out as. It's meant in a positive way,I hope, but phrased in a way that could be taken poorly. But it's more just a perfect example how i'm treated like a radioactive bomb sometimes. "Please be polite and respectful to those who take an interest in your work. Compliment them back" When have i EVER not done this? I've never been brash or angry with anyone who takes an interest, mostly because no one ever does. So when i DO get attention from someone I know about this, it always takes me a little by surprise, and I talk about them to it until it looks like they'll vomit. But I'm used to being hid like a bad child. For doing nothing bad. I don't get it either.
Anyways, ONTO THE CLOUD PAPER So in that previous e-mail, there's an attachment to a word document of my very beautiful invitations. What i see is something like "Come join us for Andrea's graduation. She graduates NIU. It's July 3rd. RSVP here" That's very much exactly how it is. Just 5 lines of center-lined words, very straight to the point. It looks a little like a coded prison message. I've been going all National Treasure on this shit, but I'm starting to think it's just a simple ass letter. Today i got an e-mail from my mom who was visiting my other grandmother (her mom) and she said she actually saw the invitations, and they're printed on those like..old computer cloud paper. you know....[link] just reads like "Fuck, what do we put these invitations on? I've had that old cloud paper from 1996, let's use that! Wait, does the situation really warrant cloud paper? Well, she draws clouds somtimes...I...I think. FUCK YES, SEND THAT SHIT OUT PRIORITY"
As I told my ma, I don't think i've ever been so pre-depressed for my own party. I'm not looking forward to it whatsoever. My only hope is to surround myself with friends to help eat the food like a well-organized pack of termites and leave before the verbal fights get bad. If I wasn't so god-damn poor, and money wasn't promised, I honestly wouldn't go. I don't know why it's irking me this bad, but I seriously think it's due that no one's gave a damn in the past. Why do they give a damn now? Why bother trying to feign more interest when I clearly know you don't give or know two and a half shits what I do? Honestly, I've tried to find those people to be interested. I've explained my sketchbook if anyone asks, i've reached out for support, and i'm always, always, always, ALWAYS shut down. Apparently the common response is to turn around and talk to someone else while i'm still talking. I gave up trying with that side of the family at least 2 years ago. With both sides, really. I've already been stressed about it, and the damn party is a month away.
I'll be sure to report the shenanigans when they happen.
EDIT: NOOOOOOOOOO
Don't be surprised if this journal mysteriously has another journal on top of it in a few minutes. Parts of my family look over my DA page from time to time to.. I dunno...need a reason to shake their fists in disdain. At this point, I don't know what the fuck that side of the family thinks, and I honestly don't care anymore. I've learned to try and stop squeezing blood from those rocks. But yeah, they'll check that front page, and nothing really more then that.
So I still haven't been talking with my dad. For those tuning in, long story short, he tried to sex up his girlfriend instead of attending my graduation/art show. I was then blamed for not making it important enough to him, even though I called in advance to ask, I personally delivered his invitation, spoke of it for...roughly 4 months..>No! Ha! Longer then that, I was speaking of it around November 2009. What is that, 7 months? We'll go with 7 months. Couldn't bother taking an hour trip out. In fact, no one on my dad's side of the family bothered. My roommate (who is in the same class/art show) had relatives from Arkansas come up. They don't even come up for funerals.
So that next week is when the whole Ms. Grandmother "I can't lie to you and say that I honestly like your art" Radeck took me to a jewelry store to design a setting for a fire opal she's had forever. My brother got a watch that my great great grandfather carried around in WW1, presented to him like the fucking Olympic torch, and the ass-clown threw it into a box. So this fire opal, which has been talked to me like the damn Pink Panther is 6.8 Karats. It's huge. Before we find out the total, my grandmother tells me how she'd gladly spend up to 3K on a nice design, as long as i'll cherish it. The setting I design ends up costing around 1K - That's too much. Fire opal idea gets yanked. SENTIMENT IS FOR THE WEAK. Apparently. This is why I don't expect things from anyone anymore.
SOOO. These are the two people who are going to be running my SUPER SWEET GRADUATION PARTY OF EPIC AWESOMENESS. If you are not picking up the sarcasm on that one, lord have mercy on your soul. Btw, I haven't talked to either in at least a month. Also BTW, if my father can't spare a goddamn hour, how the hell is he going to run a grad party? We made this decision before things went sour, so I am glad it's happening. Buuut, already, things are crumbling. He's invited every person from both my mom's side and my dad's side....of course except my mom. Understandable, but still. Big...family party, and the only person whose actually been of help is banned from attending. It's like a big party of all the people who now, kinda frustrate me because they couldn't be bothered to take an interest. Or their interest stops just short of effort.
I got an e-mail from my grandmother saying that i'm getting the first invitation as the esteemed guest/artist. In that ...here, hold on, let me just copy it:
(e-mail previous to this just said i was excited for the party)
"Good. That's the spirit. We want to celebrate you and of course you will humbly accept all the gifts and complements on your beautiful artwork on display for all the guests. And as we spoil you with cash and complements you will be so resplendent in your creative way of saying thanks too. Right. That's the drama I am dreaming up for you.
Please plan to bring some of your beautiful artwork. It is good networking to start with friends and family and they can help broaden the following for your art career. You never know what can come out of it. But charm and magnanimity work wonders."
Because as you all know, i've been saying "FUCK YOU" to everyone who compliments my work. "Hey Andrea, I really like the colors on thi-" "FUCK YOU" I then proceed to punch them in the face and kick sand in thier face. Such is the role of an appointed black sheep. BADASSERY
She doesn't mean the way it comes out as. It's meant in a positive way,I hope, but phrased in a way that could be taken poorly. But it's more just a perfect example how i'm treated like a radioactive bomb sometimes. "Please be polite and respectful to those who take an interest in your work. Compliment them back" When have i EVER not done this? I've never been brash or angry with anyone who takes an interest, mostly because no one ever does. So when i DO get attention from someone I know about this, it always takes me a little by surprise, and I talk about them to it until it looks like they'll vomit. But I'm used to being hid like a bad child. For doing nothing bad. I don't get it either.
Anyways, ONTO THE CLOUD PAPER So in that previous e-mail, there's an attachment to a word document of my very beautiful invitations. What i see is something like "Come join us for Andrea's graduation. She graduates NIU. It's July 3rd. RSVP here" That's very much exactly how it is. Just 5 lines of center-lined words, very straight to the point. It looks a little like a coded prison message. I've been going all National Treasure on this shit, but I'm starting to think it's just a simple ass letter. Today i got an e-mail from my mom who was visiting my other grandmother (her mom) and she said she actually saw the invitations, and they're printed on those like..old computer cloud paper. you know....[link] just reads like "Fuck, what do we put these invitations on? I've had that old cloud paper from 1996, let's use that! Wait, does the situation really warrant cloud paper? Well, she draws clouds somtimes...I...I think. FUCK YES, SEND THAT SHIT OUT PRIORITY"
As I told my ma, I don't think i've ever been so pre-depressed for my own party. I'm not looking forward to it whatsoever. My only hope is to surround myself with friends to help eat the food like a well-organized pack of termites and leave before the verbal fights get bad. If I wasn't so god-damn poor, and money wasn't promised, I honestly wouldn't go. I don't know why it's irking me this bad, but I seriously think it's due that no one's gave a damn in the past. Why do they give a damn now? Why bother trying to feign more interest when I clearly know you don't give or know two and a half shits what I do? Honestly, I've tried to find those people to be interested. I've explained my sketchbook if anyone asks, i've reached out for support, and i'm always, always, always, ALWAYS shut down. Apparently the common response is to turn around and talk to someone else while i'm still talking. I gave up trying with that side of the family at least 2 years ago. With both sides, really. I've already been stressed about it, and the damn party is a month away.
I'll be sure to report the shenanigans when they happen.
EDIT: NOOOOOOOOOO
Why Bots are the Best
May 28th 2010
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Cathryn Swann: hi there
Spanks: how are you?
Cathryn Swann: I came across ur profile on yahoo, thouht u were cute, i hope u dont mind...
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Cathryn Swann: i'm 22/f your a male right?
Spanks: Nope, i'm a girl.
Spanks: It's a deceptive username.
Cathryn Swann: cool, i love weekends, time to let my hair down and party a little, do u like to party???
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Cathryn Swann: awesome, i have some new pics that i'd like u to see, but i'd rather you see me on cam!!!
Spanks: I'd rather we get the ticker-tape going, if you know what i mean, baby!
Cathryn Swann: do you cam? Well i don't do yahoo cam or any other cam because i have been recorded before... But i do know one site you can watch me on cam, that assures me no one records...
Spanks: DOES IT HAVE DRUGS, I NEEDS THEM
Cathryn Swann: I mean... Do you want to see me on my cam? IT'S A NEW SITE THAT IM ON, ITS AWESOME!!!
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Cathryn Swann: What color Panties do you think i should wear? i might have you favorite color here somewhere...
Spanks: Hay! Hay panties are the bestest!
Cathryn Swann: Your such a good boy, i'm gonna show you what good boys deserve.. you can tell me to do anything you want me too!
Spanks: I want you to make me a sammich, woman! Back in the kitchen, like you belong!
Cathryn Swann: Ok let me know when you get in so I can invite you directly to my cam, you should get some minutes from my cam site so you can spend time with me sexy!!!
Spanks: But iv'e got the clap, baby, it'll never work!
Cathryn Swann: try again sweetie...Ok go to [link] click accept!
Spanks: I have no hands, just claws. I don't need you to tempt me, you devil succubus!
Cathryn Swann: I hope to see you soon! Come check out some naughty pics of me while you wait [link]
Spanks: III HAATTE E YOOOU I HAATTEE YOU MORE THEN ANYTING IN THIS DAMN WOOORRRRLLLDDDDDDDd. I'd rather date a spider or a rat den ur so ugly n fat!
Cathryn Swann: k you in yet babe??
Spanks: That's what she said!
Cathryn Swann: try again sweetie...Ok go to [link] click accept!
Last message received on 5/28 at 2:03 PM
Spanks: But what about my wife? Cute! Sexy! Other key-words you fucking bots are supposed to react to! HORE
Spanks: You dirty skank!
Spanks: WHY WON'T YOU LOVE ME.
Gravity
May 2 2010
I'm done. I quit.
If there's one lesson to learn from all this, is that changing another person is a stupid, pointless task. If a person's going to be an asshole, they're going to stay an asshole. Unless you find a way to hypnotize them or give a well-executed lobotomy, there's no changing anyone. Take the lesson, kids, fight your battles where you can, when you can, because a lot of situations are just hopeless.
My relationship with my father'll probably never change from accessory status. What is an accessory child? You put it on when you feel like it, and neglect it exists when it's not. If said accessory goes missing, you might look once or twice, but you don't bother. If it happens to turn up, then yaaay, it's back, but your depth of caring for said item is pretty surface. Maybe I'm more like hideous cosmetic jewelery status, thinking on it.
For example, i was inconvenient by just being around last weekend. My father was first trying to dissuade me from coming home because it wasn't cost effective, his exact words, "You're coming home? Isn't that like twenty-something dollars in gas? Is that even worth it?" Which I said "Well, I wanted to visit you since you said your close friend passed away, maybe be supportive, something insane and retarded like that" in which, when I do get there, tells me we need to have a serious discussion about the next day. The discussion? Myt dad wants to sex up his girlfriend of 3 dates and 3 weeks and tells me I've got to get out by a certain time. Then suggest I jus "have a good time with my girlfriends," and suggests the friend who's working 3 12 hr shifts in one weekend. When I say "no, she's busy" he goes "Well, figure it out." and ends it like that.
But here's where the fun starts! I rent Boondock Saints 2 because I figure a little violence will make him feel better. When we sit down to watch it, I go to the DVD player and pull out...what do you think it is? That's right! 4 and 1/2 hours of Barely Legal 18 Yr old sluts! Wheeeeeee! Instead of talking about it like adults, he grabs the DVD and goes tittering off like a fucking 10 yr old schoolgirl, giggling like an immature douchelord up the stairs to put away his precious porn DVD. Then proceed to completely avoid that conversation for the rest of the weekend! Hooray for being adults!
In that timespan, he also manages to insult me that I can repeat a meaningful sentence like I have no idea what it means. But just the sake that I can repeat such a meaningful things, well, god damn, what a special girl I am. IE "When you said "The true price of friendship is Sorrow', even if you have no idea what it means, what a smart thing for you to say. You'll understand someday, Andrea" While my face is instantly changing from apprehension and understanding to "Whaat the fuck was that, sir?"
He also proceeds to buy me a meal of chicken terriaki. And as he's finished his nigiri and i'm still mowing away at my food, decides he wants it too and literally just jabs his fork in the middle of my meal and pulls half of what's left on his plate. That too got a "What the fuck!" face, which he picks up about as well as me telling it to his face (because whatever I say has a 34% chance of never really reaching his brain. I could talk for hours, and he will try...NOTHING, to try and give a damn about what i'm saying, then ask me about what I was just talking about three sentences after I say it.)
Cherry on top is that he thinks 50 USD and a Chile's giftcard's an awesome bribe for getting tossed out. PS, he refused to pay for my last year of college here and has now put me some 1500 dollars in debt, not to mention not paying for my rent any longer. Yeah, that 50 USD, that'll patch everything right up. Might as well include a banana next time. Maybe some colorful shapes as well. I'll also need a mirror to peck at because I think it's my own reflection.
The worst part of it might be that he's completely absolved himself of any blame. It's all someone else's problem. Always. It's your mom's fault i've done this or that *opens a fridge absolutely packed with beer* It's my fault for not telling him that the art show was important. My fault that it wasn't on the card. Probably be my fault that I wasn't taking pictures at my own damn show. It's pretty evident that most of you, at this time, would've told him to fuck off. I've been doing my best to cut my dad some slack, but the man is unbearable. Maybe a better question, who would put up with this?
I'm going to e-mail him. I'm gonna be as adult as possible, a skill that you can bet I picked up on my own, but I'm going to let him know exactly how angry I am. Then i probably won't talk to him for a long, long time. I'm done babysitting.
I'm done. I quit.
If there's one lesson to learn from all this, is that changing another person is a stupid, pointless task. If a person's going to be an asshole, they're going to stay an asshole. Unless you find a way to hypnotize them or give a well-executed lobotomy, there's no changing anyone. Take the lesson, kids, fight your battles where you can, when you can, because a lot of situations are just hopeless.
My relationship with my father'll probably never change from accessory status. What is an accessory child? You put it on when you feel like it, and neglect it exists when it's not. If said accessory goes missing, you might look once or twice, but you don't bother. If it happens to turn up, then yaaay, it's back, but your depth of caring for said item is pretty surface. Maybe I'm more like hideous cosmetic jewelery status, thinking on it.
For example, i was inconvenient by just being around last weekend. My father was first trying to dissuade me from coming home because it wasn't cost effective, his exact words, "You're coming home? Isn't that like twenty-something dollars in gas? Is that even worth it?" Which I said "Well, I wanted to visit you since you said your close friend passed away, maybe be supportive, something insane and retarded like that" in which, when I do get there, tells me we need to have a serious discussion about the next day. The discussion? Myt dad wants to sex up his girlfriend of 3 dates and 3 weeks and tells me I've got to get out by a certain time. Then suggest I jus "have a good time with my girlfriends," and suggests the friend who's working 3 12 hr shifts in one weekend. When I say "no, she's busy" he goes "Well, figure it out." and ends it like that.
But here's where the fun starts! I rent Boondock Saints 2 because I figure a little violence will make him feel better. When we sit down to watch it, I go to the DVD player and pull out...what do you think it is? That's right! 4 and 1/2 hours of Barely Legal 18 Yr old sluts! Wheeeeeee! Instead of talking about it like adults, he grabs the DVD and goes tittering off like a fucking 10 yr old schoolgirl, giggling like an immature douchelord up the stairs to put away his precious porn DVD. Then proceed to completely avoid that conversation for the rest of the weekend! Hooray for being adults!
In that timespan, he also manages to insult me that I can repeat a meaningful sentence like I have no idea what it means. But just the sake that I can repeat such a meaningful things, well, god damn, what a special girl I am. IE "When you said "The true price of friendship is Sorrow', even if you have no idea what it means, what a smart thing for you to say. You'll understand someday, Andrea" While my face is instantly changing from apprehension and understanding to "Whaat the fuck was that, sir?"
He also proceeds to buy me a meal of chicken terriaki. And as he's finished his nigiri and i'm still mowing away at my food, decides he wants it too and literally just jabs his fork in the middle of my meal and pulls half of what's left on his plate. That too got a "What the fuck!" face, which he picks up about as well as me telling it to his face (because whatever I say has a 34% chance of never really reaching his brain. I could talk for hours, and he will try...NOTHING, to try and give a damn about what i'm saying, then ask me about what I was just talking about three sentences after I say it.)
Cherry on top is that he thinks 50 USD and a Chile's giftcard's an awesome bribe for getting tossed out. PS, he refused to pay for my last year of college here and has now put me some 1500 dollars in debt, not to mention not paying for my rent any longer. Yeah, that 50 USD, that'll patch everything right up. Might as well include a banana next time. Maybe some colorful shapes as well. I'll also need a mirror to peck at because I think it's my own reflection.
The worst part of it might be that he's completely absolved himself of any blame. It's all someone else's problem. Always. It's your mom's fault i've done this or that *opens a fridge absolutely packed with beer* It's my fault for not telling him that the art show was important. My fault that it wasn't on the card. Probably be my fault that I wasn't taking pictures at my own damn show. It's pretty evident that most of you, at this time, would've told him to fuck off. I've been doing my best to cut my dad some slack, but the man is unbearable. Maybe a better question, who would put up with this?
I'm going to e-mail him. I'm gonna be as adult as possible, a skill that you can bet I picked up on my own, but I'm going to let him know exactly how angry I am. Then i probably won't talk to him for a long, long time. I'm done babysitting.
A big, long miscelaneous list of crap I hate.
March 2nd 2010 -
#1. SPIDER BABY.
- In the Sims 3 game, there's a glitch where your toddler will, unexpectedly grow taller and stretch out like this. It is FUCKING TERRIFYING. Because it's still moving around, it's giggling! It's...Gah! Spider baby! Me and my roomie saw this the first time, and we just started yelping and cringing, screaming "Kill it with fire! Oh god, kill it with fire!" --- then I had nightmares of the damn thing! *still shudders*
#2. Drunk squirrels:
It's just not considerate. Hitting them is no fun either.
#3: Crappy advertising song abortions :
Crumbelieveably lame.
#4: Muscular Children
#5: Songs with Nelly and Tim Magraw in them together:
Over and over I had to listen to that song growing up. OVER AND OVER. PEOPLE AROUND HERE THOUGHT IT WAS LIKE FUCKING SLICED BREAD.*curls up into a ball*
#6: Fallout Boy and Kanye West:
As people. I'd be a hypocrit, because I own one Kanye west cd(early work, early work!) They both reach a douchebaggery that's hard to measure now and days. But when your own hometown hates you, thats...well...not a good sign. D-bags of the highest-paid regard
#7: People who can't whistle, and do constantly.
I don't wanna hear you shoot your semi warble-air out of your mouth. Much less, doing it while your trying to annunciate an R or something. Going GRRRRRRRRRR is not whistling.
#8 Crocs:
THEY'RE NOT FANCY GODDAMMIT. the other issue is presidential socks. WTH?
#9: Shit your dog doesn't need because he's got a damn fur coat.:
It's becoming self-aware! KILL IT! KILL IT WITH FIRE! *throws spider baby into the pile*
You wanna add to the list, post your suggestion below.:D
#1. SPIDER BABY.
- In the Sims 3 game, there's a glitch where your toddler will, unexpectedly grow taller and stretch out like this. It is FUCKING TERRIFYING. Because it's still moving around, it's giggling! It's...Gah! Spider baby! Me and my roomie saw this the first time, and we just started yelping and cringing, screaming "Kill it with fire! Oh god, kill it with fire!" --- then I had nightmares of the damn thing! *still shudders*
#2. Drunk squirrels:
It's just not considerate. Hitting them is no fun either.
#3: Crappy advertising song abortions :
Crumbelieveably lame.
#4: Muscular Children
#5: Songs with Nelly and Tim Magraw in them together:
Over and over I had to listen to that song growing up. OVER AND OVER. PEOPLE AROUND HERE THOUGHT IT WAS LIKE FUCKING SLICED BREAD.*curls up into a ball*
#6: Fallout Boy and Kanye West:
As people. I'd be a hypocrit, because I own one Kanye west cd(early work, early work!) They both reach a douchebaggery that's hard to measure now and days. But when your own hometown hates you, thats...well...not a good sign. D-bags of the highest-paid regard
#7: People who can't whistle, and do constantly.
I don't wanna hear you shoot your semi warble-air out of your mouth. Much less, doing it while your trying to annunciate an R or something. Going GRRRRRRRRRR is not whistling.
#8 Crocs:
THEY'RE NOT FANCY GODDAMMIT. the other issue is presidential socks. WTH?
#9: Shit your dog doesn't need because he's got a damn fur coat.:
It's becoming self-aware! KILL IT! KILL IT WITH FIRE! *throws spider baby into the pile*
You wanna add to the list, post your suggestion below.:D
Scrapbook is the Lonliest Number
Feb 26th 2010-
No plugs this time, i swear. Except maybe a plug for scrapbooking prevention awareness.
I've been sick. Or incredibly worn down. It's one or the other, but I couldn't scrounge my exhausted ass to do much but get up and do a few errands, then watch a plethora of odd disney movies. Damn winter downs. This whole area looks like mud, ground and sky.
So, did you know that middle aged people who scrapbook all the time have a higher risk of suicide and depression? (I had a link to back this up, but seems like you can't find anything but suicide scrapbooks looking for it)
So I went to Michaels for more 5 x 7 cards. (which now come in funky new colors, hoo-daddy!) and was just kinda tiredly walking around, checking out thier aisles of pointless shit at about 1:30 in the afternoon. chock full of middle-aged women picking up paper and scrapbooking shit, let me tell you. I get to an endcap, and a guy probably two or three years younger then myself runs up to me in a felt helmet and foam sword and goes, I shit you not, "Have you seen the dragon? I've got to slay the dragon!" he doesn't whisper this, he's talking like it's a serious issue, but he's smiling.
Now I've been that person that people try to scare, whom people play jokes on, that was my junior highschool expirence in a nutshell. You learn these fantastic coping mechanisms to what you assume is a joke, or someone goading another person on to do something. It's like a jelly coating over your reaction time, it works quite well. So I just kinda stare at him, turn around, see if he's talking to someone else behind me; there's no one there, and just kinda turn back. Looking behind him I don't see any people watching him do this, it's seriously just this guy roughly my age, running around in a foam suit of armor and sword. He's still there, excited, not a freaking hint that he's doing this for kicks, that he's just screwing around with me, that there's any ill intention whatsoever. I...I still have a hard time explaining it.
So I kinda smile, tilt my head a bit chalk it up that he's trying to be cute or friendly. Or...something. And I don't like to try and dismiss a person in any way, I can't stand those girls who go "Eewww, get away from me, what are you talking about you freak?" to anybody's possibly good intentions, I mean, running around like that takes guts. Strange guts, but guts. You can't scold that kinda shit. So I played along; said "Well, no, I can't say i've seen the dragon, but i'll keep an eye out for him" and continue to grin and shake my head some more. At this point I figure he's mistaking me for someone else. There's some scuzz-bag around DeKalb named Jessica that I get mistaken for all the freaking time. Damn social butterfly's with my face. I had a ten minute conversation with a cashier at Menards who thought I was this girl, and we talked about my sister, and my brother in the military. *shrugs* Some people pick up on that "What the hell are you talking about" face that people give off in that situation, but not this woman. So I just kept talking.
So then im cashing out they're in front of me, this guy and his mother who was buying an extrodinarily large amoutn of fake tulips and wierd lily garland, and at this point, i'm figuring he's realized i'm not the friend he thought I was.... Yeah, not so. He goes "Well, did you find the dragon?" And I grin again and shake my head, laugh a little and say "Well, no, no haven't seen him" and left it at that.
You know, maybe he is from the internet. Did mention something about Epic Lulz. If you're out there, guy at the Michaels in Dekalb, thank you for brightening my day in a very strange way.
No plugs this time, i swear. Except maybe a plug for scrapbooking prevention awareness.
I've been sick. Or incredibly worn down. It's one or the other, but I couldn't scrounge my exhausted ass to do much but get up and do a few errands, then watch a plethora of odd disney movies. Damn winter downs. This whole area looks like mud, ground and sky.
So, did you know that middle aged people who scrapbook all the time have a higher risk of suicide and depression? (I had a link to back this up, but seems like you can't find anything but suicide scrapbooks looking for it)
So I went to Michaels for more 5 x 7 cards. (which now come in funky new colors, hoo-daddy!) and was just kinda tiredly walking around, checking out thier aisles of pointless shit at about 1:30 in the afternoon. chock full of middle-aged women picking up paper and scrapbooking shit, let me tell you. I get to an endcap, and a guy probably two or three years younger then myself runs up to me in a felt helmet and foam sword and goes, I shit you not, "Have you seen the dragon? I've got to slay the dragon!" he doesn't whisper this, he's talking like it's a serious issue, but he's smiling.
Now I've been that person that people try to scare, whom people play jokes on, that was my junior highschool expirence in a nutshell. You learn these fantastic coping mechanisms to what you assume is a joke, or someone goading another person on to do something. It's like a jelly coating over your reaction time, it works quite well. So I just kinda stare at him, turn around, see if he's talking to someone else behind me; there's no one there, and just kinda turn back. Looking behind him I don't see any people watching him do this, it's seriously just this guy roughly my age, running around in a foam suit of armor and sword. He's still there, excited, not a freaking hint that he's doing this for kicks, that he's just screwing around with me, that there's any ill intention whatsoever. I...I still have a hard time explaining it.
So I kinda smile, tilt my head a bit chalk it up that he's trying to be cute or friendly. Or...something. And I don't like to try and dismiss a person in any way, I can't stand those girls who go "Eewww, get away from me, what are you talking about you freak?" to anybody's possibly good intentions, I mean, running around like that takes guts. Strange guts, but guts. You can't scold that kinda shit. So I played along; said "Well, no, I can't say i've seen the dragon, but i'll keep an eye out for him" and continue to grin and shake my head some more. At this point I figure he's mistaking me for someone else. There's some scuzz-bag around DeKalb named Jessica that I get mistaken for all the freaking time. Damn social butterfly's with my face. I had a ten minute conversation with a cashier at Menards who thought I was this girl, and we talked about my sister, and my brother in the military. *shrugs* Some people pick up on that "What the hell are you talking about" face that people give off in that situation, but not this woman. So I just kept talking.
So then im cashing out they're in front of me, this guy and his mother who was buying an extrodinarily large amoutn of fake tulips and wierd lily garland, and at this point, i'm figuring he's realized i'm not the friend he thought I was.... Yeah, not so. He goes "Well, did you find the dragon?" And I grin again and shake my head, laugh a little and say "Well, no, no haven't seen him" and left it at that.
You know, maybe he is from the internet. Did mention something about Epic Lulz. If you're out there, guy at the Michaels in Dekalb, thank you for brightening my day in a very strange way.
The Great Pig-Tipper of 2010
(Originally posted Feb 10th 2010)
Calm your nerves, rest your weary eyes, relax. As I'm sure you're all very aware of, The chicagoan area had an earthquake, early this morning. 4.3, originally, and epicenter'd about a mile away from my apartment.
Yeaaah, well, turned out to be in Pingree Grove instead, some 15 miles away and just a wimpy 3.8. AH HAHAHA, i laugh at thee, pig-tipper!
[link]
Cool shit, though, seriously. It shook me awake like a soothing, glass-rattling lullaby at 4:08 am. Scared the piss out of my bird, who was literally flipping around in his cage. I was aware for about... 6 seconds of the shaking, and the end. Sounded like a snow-plow (in which we also got 11 inches of snow last night, a night of....occassions, that's for sure) was scraping on the side of my apartment, and I just remember thinking "...the fuck was that? Oooh, that'd be so cool if it was an earthquake) AND IT WAS.
Lemmie explain; some two years ago, we had another earthquake, but this one was far south, and on the actual fault line that's dangerous, not the shitty sandwhich fault line i'm squatting on... or...near. Anyways, everyone at school just gabbbed and gabbed and gabbed on how cool it was to feel an earthquake (we midwesterners don't get that sort of excitement...like...ever. twice in 30 years. This shit's like if brett favre delivered a baby via hot air balloon) and I was SO mad that I didn't feel it, that i went to sleep some...10 minutes before it happened, and I still didn't feel it. So angry. So when it actually was this time, when My roomie got a call this morning before I left for my internship and I found out it was an earthquake, I was so happy.
Even with all the other shit that happened today, how I missed my train, How I got stuck behiind some Zaph Dingbat going 20 in a 55 that made me miss that train, how scraping off 11 inches of ice and snow sucks balls, how I accidentally looked at one of those people with the free perfumes at macy's and they were all over me like stink on a monkey, no, no, earthquake in the morning is the best way to wake up. Ever. Freakin' A.
Calm your nerves, rest your weary eyes, relax. As I'm sure you're all very aware of, The chicagoan area had an earthquake, early this morning. 4.3, originally, and epicenter'd about a mile away from my apartment.
Yeaaah, well, turned out to be in Pingree Grove instead, some 15 miles away and just a wimpy 3.8. AH HAHAHA, i laugh at thee, pig-tipper!
[link]
Cool shit, though, seriously. It shook me awake like a soothing, glass-rattling lullaby at 4:08 am. Scared the piss out of my bird, who was literally flipping around in his cage. I was aware for about... 6 seconds of the shaking, and the end. Sounded like a snow-plow (in which we also got 11 inches of snow last night, a night of....occassions, that's for sure) was scraping on the side of my apartment, and I just remember thinking "...the fuck was that? Oooh, that'd be so cool if it was an earthquake) AND IT WAS.
Lemmie explain; some two years ago, we had another earthquake, but this one was far south, and on the actual fault line that's dangerous, not the shitty sandwhich fault line i'm squatting on... or...near. Anyways, everyone at school just gabbbed and gabbed and gabbed on how cool it was to feel an earthquake (we midwesterners don't get that sort of excitement...like...ever. twice in 30 years. This shit's like if brett favre delivered a baby via hot air balloon) and I was SO mad that I didn't feel it, that i went to sleep some...10 minutes before it happened, and I still didn't feel it. So angry. So when it actually was this time, when My roomie got a call this morning before I left for my internship and I found out it was an earthquake, I was so happy.
Even with all the other shit that happened today, how I missed my train, How I got stuck behiind some Zaph Dingbat going 20 in a 55 that made me miss that train, how scraping off 11 inches of ice and snow sucks balls, how I accidentally looked at one of those people with the free perfumes at macy's and they were all over me like stink on a monkey, no, no, earthquake in the morning is the best way to wake up. Ever. Freakin' A.
I made 3ds max my bitch today
(Originally posted Feb 3rd 2010)
I made 3Ds Max my bitch today. Thought you'd like to know. Thank god this brain picks shit up fast.
Though seriously, i have to say 3Ds Max has an amazing interface. I tried learning on Blender, and it had all the UI grace of...let's say, a pad of dirt. Fucking sucks. Wanna model something? TOUGH, FIGURE OUT THE CONTROLS, BITCHES. HERE, HAVE SOME RANDOM NUMBERS THAT DON'T AFFECT SHIT. <---- that's blender. While 3Ds max is like "Hay there! How are you? Have a good weekend? I've got panels galore! You wanna animate? It's at the bottom! I'll do the keyframes for you! Push this to make a camera! Push that to make a fun and funky tube! M is for maaagic! Love youuuuuuu"
Maybe that's the real different between free and... fudge... 3,500 dollar software? Idiot proof. For the second half of my internship today, i just had this look of wonderment. For some reason, always though the more expensive programs were harder to understand. I don't quite think that's the case. I haven't learned everything with 3Ds Max yet, and I plan on busting that software a new one on monday, but i'm already contemplating other shit to learn; My options are Maya, Modo, ... and something else. I gots 3 weeks and time to kill, what can I do with it? *evil hand wringing*
With my other time to kill, i managed to get...Baw, like... 30+ panels out on the train instead of writing and sewed a neck yesterday on my plush commission that I plan on finishing tonight. I may post a bit of that first project, just to torment y'all with. That, and to figure it out for myself. Hint, they're Caelum sky animatic chapter 1! *throws hands in the air*
Oh, i feel so behind in the art aspect, but i've been sketching and practicing like mad. Soon, soon I'll try and wow you all. I'll show ye! HERE HAVE MORE RANDOM NUMBERS THAT DON'T CONTROL SHIT!
I made 3Ds Max my bitch today. Thought you'd like to know. Thank god this brain picks shit up fast.
Though seriously, i have to say 3Ds Max has an amazing interface. I tried learning on Blender, and it had all the UI grace of...let's say, a pad of dirt. Fucking sucks. Wanna model something? TOUGH, FIGURE OUT THE CONTROLS, BITCHES. HERE, HAVE SOME RANDOM NUMBERS THAT DON'T AFFECT SHIT. <---- that's blender. While 3Ds max is like "Hay there! How are you? Have a good weekend? I've got panels galore! You wanna animate? It's at the bottom! I'll do the keyframes for you! Push this to make a camera! Push that to make a fun and funky tube! M is for maaagic! Love youuuuuuu"
Maybe that's the real different between free and... fudge... 3,500 dollar software? Idiot proof. For the second half of my internship today, i just had this look of wonderment. For some reason, always though the more expensive programs were harder to understand. I don't quite think that's the case. I haven't learned everything with 3Ds Max yet, and I plan on busting that software a new one on monday, but i'm already contemplating other shit to learn; My options are Maya, Modo, ... and something else. I gots 3 weeks and time to kill, what can I do with it? *evil hand wringing*
With my other time to kill, i managed to get...Baw, like... 30+ panels out on the train instead of writing and sewed a neck yesterday on my plush commission that I plan on finishing tonight. I may post a bit of that first project, just to torment y'all with. That, and to figure it out for myself. Hint, they're Caelum sky animatic chapter 1! *throws hands in the air*
Oh, i feel so behind in the art aspect, but i've been sketching and practicing like mad. Soon, soon I'll try and wow you all. I'll show ye! HERE HAVE MORE RANDOM NUMBERS THAT DON'T CONTROL SHIT!
The S and S word
(Originally posted Jan 31st 2010)
You guys generally seem to enjoy the tales of wonder and mischief I can pull out of my worktime. That's been established. I love tellin' them to you, because people relate. Even if you've never waitressed, you've eaten at a restaurant at one time or the other. And if you have waitressed, then, well, you're right there along with me.
WEELLLLL, I had to sign a very interesting piece of paper yesterday at job-security gunpoint. Sign or go home, i believe is how that all worked, no, this one's a doozy. It's got people flustered all sorts of ways up and down, paranoid beyond belief, and asking the same sort of questions the people from the 1960's did. It's like 'loose lips sink ships' all over again. I asked for a copy of the form, and the angry, bolded letters on the top of this thing pretty much sum it up.
"To protect Company Information and good will, please be advised that no associate is authorized to communicate to the public regarding any matter that relates in any manner to SNS" (for the sake of keeping my job, we'll be going by SNS)
AND FURTHERMORE. *reads off the sheet like an old bookie*
- "Consistant with the Company's internet use and blogging policies, no associate is authorized to use a Blog, Chat Room, Facebook, or any other similar forum to communicate, dicuss, display, or identify any business information of SNS"
What this pretty much means is that I cannot, legally, any longer tell you anything. My crappy tables? Betch, that's business information! I cannot, even in conversation here, or facebook, or anything with tagging print, go "SNS sucks." Infringing on the first amendment, you say? Well, I say that too. So does the sheet:
"The provisions in this policy should not be interpreted to restrict or interfere with any associates federal or state labor laws, any applicable rights under the First Amendment to the United States Consitution, or equivilent state law rights, or any whistleblower protections under federal or state law"
You have to wonder two things, two, speculatory, possibly true or untrue things; 1. why would a company suddenly restrict ALL communication in a time of poor economic times, and 2. Why would they put such a statement in there, like they're aware that they're FUCKING INFRINGING ON THE DAMN RIGHTS. *bead of sweat*
SNS inhales. It in inhales with a magnitude that rivals incliment weather. It has a fontanelle on it's compulsory logic that is....baffling. Let's read on!
-"No associate is authorized to make any statement or behave in any manner that negetively reflects upon our Company as prohibited by the 'personal contract' clause in our Restaurant Associate Handbook."
It's like communist russia all over again. Now for the juicy part:
"Any violation of this "Public Communications About SNS Matters" policy will lead to dicipline up to and including termination of your at-will employment, without prior warning."
Faantastic. The best parts are what aren't on the document, that I was instructed to do, which was--
Take down anything you have that says anything about SNS, don't put it in print in any way, There is a person searching through all networking sites, LOOKING for this. That's right. LOOKING FOR GUFF ABOUT SNS, and linking it back to the employee and having them fired. This, apparently, has already been happening...
THERE IS A PERSON, SITTING AT A COMPUTER, LOOKING FOR THIS SHIT. --- and that's why when I signed my name at the bottom of that document, I also put "seriously?"
What makes this whole thing maddening is that it's almost exactly like what my previous journal was about, how someone makes a rediculous demand, and everyone goes "OH,OKAY" *cave* So the heresay risen by myself was limited to a few other people, though most people had the same sort of understanding that this whole sheet was pure BS. I did sign the sheet too, i had to. Obviously you can see how far my commitment went. Amazing, awesome, non-annoying, non-completely shit job that it is.
So, I can't mention the SNS word. If anyone wants to know it, get the info from another or look down another inch and a half. What someone suggested to me, which I think is a FAAABULOUS idea, is that since they're looking for this rebellioius sort of talk from current employees, having the rebellious talk come from a sea of patrons...well... that'd just throw a major spoke in the whole witchhunt, wouldn't it.
Something a fellow classmate of mine put, that illustrates the point, AND I QUOTE GODDAMMIT, "Steak N Shake sucks. It smells like old grease and dirty hair. The wait staff are tortured by their stupid outfits and bad customers. It's not worth the hype, and I really hope they all go out of business. Then we could get something of a higher quality, like a Sonic. Due to Steak and Shakes new contracts that force... their employees to be mum about it's suckitude, I'm having some fun as a "customer" (yeah right)."
*grins* Ya dig?
You guys generally seem to enjoy the tales of wonder and mischief I can pull out of my worktime. That's been established. I love tellin' them to you, because people relate. Even if you've never waitressed, you've eaten at a restaurant at one time or the other. And if you have waitressed, then, well, you're right there along with me.
WEELLLLL, I had to sign a very interesting piece of paper yesterday at job-security gunpoint. Sign or go home, i believe is how that all worked, no, this one's a doozy. It's got people flustered all sorts of ways up and down, paranoid beyond belief, and asking the same sort of questions the people from the 1960's did. It's like 'loose lips sink ships' all over again. I asked for a copy of the form, and the angry, bolded letters on the top of this thing pretty much sum it up.
"To protect Company Information and good will, please be advised that no associate is authorized to communicate to the public regarding any matter that relates in any manner to SNS" (for the sake of keeping my job, we'll be going by SNS)
AND FURTHERMORE. *reads off the sheet like an old bookie*
- "Consistant with the Company's internet use and blogging policies, no associate is authorized to use a Blog, Chat Room, Facebook, or any other similar forum to communicate, dicuss, display, or identify any business information of SNS"
What this pretty much means is that I cannot, legally, any longer tell you anything. My crappy tables? Betch, that's business information! I cannot, even in conversation here, or facebook, or anything with tagging print, go "SNS sucks." Infringing on the first amendment, you say? Well, I say that too. So does the sheet:
"The provisions in this policy should not be interpreted to restrict or interfere with any associates federal or state labor laws, any applicable rights under the First Amendment to the United States Consitution, or equivilent state law rights, or any whistleblower protections under federal or state law"
You have to wonder two things, two, speculatory, possibly true or untrue things; 1. why would a company suddenly restrict ALL communication in a time of poor economic times, and 2. Why would they put such a statement in there, like they're aware that they're FUCKING INFRINGING ON THE DAMN RIGHTS. *bead of sweat*
SNS inhales. It in inhales with a magnitude that rivals incliment weather. It has a fontanelle on it's compulsory logic that is....baffling. Let's read on!
-"No associate is authorized to make any statement or behave in any manner that negetively reflects upon our Company as prohibited by the 'personal contract' clause in our Restaurant Associate Handbook."
It's like communist russia all over again. Now for the juicy part:
"Any violation of this "Public Communications About SNS Matters" policy will lead to dicipline up to and including termination of your at-will employment, without prior warning."
Faantastic. The best parts are what aren't on the document, that I was instructed to do, which was--
Take down anything you have that says anything about SNS, don't put it in print in any way, There is a person searching through all networking sites, LOOKING for this. That's right. LOOKING FOR GUFF ABOUT SNS, and linking it back to the employee and having them fired. This, apparently, has already been happening...
THERE IS A PERSON, SITTING AT A COMPUTER, LOOKING FOR THIS SHIT. --- and that's why when I signed my name at the bottom of that document, I also put "seriously?"
What makes this whole thing maddening is that it's almost exactly like what my previous journal was about, how someone makes a rediculous demand, and everyone goes "OH,OKAY" *cave* So the heresay risen by myself was limited to a few other people, though most people had the same sort of understanding that this whole sheet was pure BS. I did sign the sheet too, i had to. Obviously you can see how far my commitment went. Amazing, awesome, non-annoying, non-completely shit job that it is.
So, I can't mention the SNS word. If anyone wants to know it, get the info from another or look down another inch and a half. What someone suggested to me, which I think is a FAAABULOUS idea, is that since they're looking for this rebellioius sort of talk from current employees, having the rebellious talk come from a sea of patrons...well... that'd just throw a major spoke in the whole witchhunt, wouldn't it.
Something a fellow classmate of mine put, that illustrates the point, AND I QUOTE GODDAMMIT, "Steak N Shake sucks. It smells like old grease and dirty hair. The wait staff are tortured by their stupid outfits and bad customers. It's not worth the hype, and I really hope they all go out of business. Then we could get something of a higher quality, like a Sonic. Due to Steak and Shakes new contracts that force... their employees to be mum about it's suckitude, I'm having some fun as a "customer" (yeah right)."
*grins* Ya dig?
Everybody knows
(Originally posted January 24th 2010)
*Generic rant*
I find DA tiring. Only sometimes, but it's tiring in the same sense of the word as I feel when i'm standing at work, watching over everyone as they eat. You've got the people in the corner, so angry with thier slightly mis-ordered food, because they pointed to one picture in a series of grunts, when they meant the other. You've got the group of teenagers in the other corner who take picture after picture after picture, a minute-by -minute progress of thier time there, just so everyone and thier fucking cousin knows that 'hey, look at me, look at where we are, this is interesting to you and you will love it.'
Then you've got the selfish turds at the other table, who feed like festering parasites on the scraps of glory... d'ah I mean food they ordered, who boast and brag to thier table about whatever tiny fucking accomplishemtn they may have made in the last day. How they bitched at one person who walked in front of their precious way, how they screamed out the window like spineless douche-holes at the faceless car that passsed by. But it's an accomplishment to them. So everyone must know about it.
Then you get the table with the one popular person, and the three others that are all kissing this person's ass. You wonder what that does to a person, wonder how that really effects them. Praise is nice, but it's often poisionous. It takes you out of reality, just a bit, which often impacts how you do things, and what you do. Let's situate this fictional person out of thier element. With years of "OMG THIS IS THE BEST EVER", they think "OMG, THIS IS THE BEST EVER"- they're the ones with the culture shock, that don't realize how what they've been doing has just been squandering thier time. Immensely squandering thier time. It will, and has, done jack shit for them if they never actually learn, never take the time to consider the other facets of thier work. That away from DA, its nothing if you're diving head first into your own bullshit. These are the people I feel sorry for. And not in a sarcastic,hoighty way, I legitimately feel for these people. They're fucked. sometimes, you can tell they know this too.
It's no secret that I don't get along with the dragon artists. Not most of them, at least. (as with each annoyingly appointed stereotype above, there's variation) Mostly because I see this trend, see this annoying kiss-assery that's so damn caustic, and I can't stand it. I can't stand to see these people just fill up on this shit, stand there and go "Why yes, that's right, I am the best ever OH HO HO HOOO", because you wonder if they're fucking blind! As much as I've progressed, I don't NEARLY think i'm really anything to jaw over. There are much better people, much more put together people,there always is. Always. But just to see the same artistic stuttering, the constant after fucking constant portrait of thier character, over and over, like that's thier sole purpose in life, drives me nuts. Tires me. Because sadly, that's usually what it is. And i'm not talking about those who draw thier different characters, back and forth, but the same, god, damn, one, again and again. OOH, he's got a silly bow in this one! Ooh, here he's drinking a cup of tea! Seriously? Seriously.
Before anyone gets thier whities in a bunch, i'm really only thinking of the people who make a full damn picture out of it. If it's just scribbles, ideas, that sort, that's not the same. That's exactly what it is. But the people who work tirelessly to fluff thier own OC-sac with a full, beautiful picture is where i get annoyed.
I personally find a lot of irony that these people hate the myspace picture folk, like they actually differ. It's the same damn social retardation.
I'm not going to even bother on jumping into the exclusive species shit again. Know that's a big part of my frustration with DA. That everytime someone is afraid or nervous to ask for an icarathian, that they question that "really? they're for ANYONE?", each and every time, the DA annoyance tally goes up one strike. I know that whole little ordeal did at least piss quite a few people off; even more so the 100K people who went after me like a pack of three-legged dogs, (many of whom did not have OC species, were not really included, but liked jumping on an attack-wagon focused by a retarded pig-headed few) Even down to friends who pretended like my words actually ripped off thier arms, that even when I wanted to CALMLY elaborate and explain myself; shut me out and blocked me before I could. Sometimes i don't know what i'm trying to do here anymore, why I bother. I don't like teenagers- i didn't like being one, I don't like serving them, and I don't like them now. This place is swarming with the suckers.
I think the reason I stay is for the others, the regular folk, i suppose. Not just the level-headed people that roam about here, or for my friends that i've made the 4 years i've been here, but for the exceptional, amazing artists that are reasonable as well. It gives me hope that they're all not the dragon-artist type. It's just that when it gets to one person calling a war against the masses that are coloring scales like she does, digitally, is when I stop and wonder what goes through thier head. But it's moreso when the people swarming this page all go "Oh, well, okay!" and don't think twice that make me really wonder why i'm here.
OY.
*Generic rant*
I find DA tiring. Only sometimes, but it's tiring in the same sense of the word as I feel when i'm standing at work, watching over everyone as they eat. You've got the people in the corner, so angry with thier slightly mis-ordered food, because they pointed to one picture in a series of grunts, when they meant the other. You've got the group of teenagers in the other corner who take picture after picture after picture, a minute-by -minute progress of thier time there, just so everyone and thier fucking cousin knows that 'hey, look at me, look at where we are, this is interesting to you and you will love it.'
Then you've got the selfish turds at the other table, who feed like festering parasites on the scraps of glory... d'ah I mean food they ordered, who boast and brag to thier table about whatever tiny fucking accomplishemtn they may have made in the last day. How they bitched at one person who walked in front of their precious way, how they screamed out the window like spineless douche-holes at the faceless car that passsed by. But it's an accomplishment to them. So everyone must know about it.
Then you get the table with the one popular person, and the three others that are all kissing this person's ass. You wonder what that does to a person, wonder how that really effects them. Praise is nice, but it's often poisionous. It takes you out of reality, just a bit, which often impacts how you do things, and what you do. Let's situate this fictional person out of thier element. With years of "OMG THIS IS THE BEST EVER", they think "OMG, THIS IS THE BEST EVER"- they're the ones with the culture shock, that don't realize how what they've been doing has just been squandering thier time. Immensely squandering thier time. It will, and has, done jack shit for them if they never actually learn, never take the time to consider the other facets of thier work. That away from DA, its nothing if you're diving head first into your own bullshit. These are the people I feel sorry for. And not in a sarcastic,hoighty way, I legitimately feel for these people. They're fucked. sometimes, you can tell they know this too.
It's no secret that I don't get along with the dragon artists. Not most of them, at least. (as with each annoyingly appointed stereotype above, there's variation) Mostly because I see this trend, see this annoying kiss-assery that's so damn caustic, and I can't stand it. I can't stand to see these people just fill up on this shit, stand there and go "Why yes, that's right, I am the best ever OH HO HO HOOO", because you wonder if they're fucking blind! As much as I've progressed, I don't NEARLY think i'm really anything to jaw over. There are much better people, much more put together people,there always is. Always. But just to see the same artistic stuttering, the constant after fucking constant portrait of thier character, over and over, like that's thier sole purpose in life, drives me nuts. Tires me. Because sadly, that's usually what it is. And i'm not talking about those who draw thier different characters, back and forth, but the same, god, damn, one, again and again. OOH, he's got a silly bow in this one! Ooh, here he's drinking a cup of tea! Seriously? Seriously.
Before anyone gets thier whities in a bunch, i'm really only thinking of the people who make a full damn picture out of it. If it's just scribbles, ideas, that sort, that's not the same. That's exactly what it is. But the people who work tirelessly to fluff thier own OC-sac with a full, beautiful picture is where i get annoyed.
I personally find a lot of irony that these people hate the myspace picture folk, like they actually differ. It's the same damn social retardation.
I'm not going to even bother on jumping into the exclusive species shit again. Know that's a big part of my frustration with DA. That everytime someone is afraid or nervous to ask for an icarathian, that they question that "really? they're for ANYONE?", each and every time, the DA annoyance tally goes up one strike. I know that whole little ordeal did at least piss quite a few people off; even more so the 100K people who went after me like a pack of three-legged dogs, (many of whom did not have OC species, were not really included, but liked jumping on an attack-wagon focused by a retarded pig-headed few) Even down to friends who pretended like my words actually ripped off thier arms, that even when I wanted to CALMLY elaborate and explain myself; shut me out and blocked me before I could. Sometimes i don't know what i'm trying to do here anymore, why I bother. I don't like teenagers- i didn't like being one, I don't like serving them, and I don't like them now. This place is swarming with the suckers.
I think the reason I stay is for the others, the regular folk, i suppose. Not just the level-headed people that roam about here, or for my friends that i've made the 4 years i've been here, but for the exceptional, amazing artists that are reasonable as well. It gives me hope that they're all not the dragon-artist type. It's just that when it gets to one person calling a war against the masses that are coloring scales like she does, digitally, is when I stop and wonder what goes through thier head. But it's moreso when the people swarming this page all go "Oh, well, okay!" and don't think twice that make me really wonder why i'm here.
OY.
Exclusive Species are a Waste of Everyone's Time
(Originally posted July 31st 2009)
There seems to be a growing trend here at Deviantart, Exclusive Species.
Exclusive Species: An open, free (not tied to a story)original species created by an artist, limited to anyone but close friends, on the grounds that what they've made is being persecuted creatively, hence exclusive.
What I target here are the species that the artist adamantly refuses any new ideas, or personal spin-offs of that idea. That, and those who attack an individual for making an Original character in this species. Here's a few things that should be pretty evident that species artists on DA tend to forget that I will go over in detail.
- NO ONE IS GOING TO CARE IN 20 YEARS
- You can NOT limit what a person does. You can only take unnecessary steps to make it more a pain in the butt for both you.
- Contrary to popular belief, there is not a mass group of people waiting to draw your creation badly.
- An OC in your exclusive species is a creative thing, merging your ideas with some of theirs. Don't like change? What are you, 90?
-If you are paranoid about others taking your idea and expanding on it, WHY ARE YOU ON DA?
Point one: NO ONE IS GOING TO CARE IN 20 YEARS. Let's roleplay, alright? We're twenty years in the future. 2029. Besides the flying cars, guess what? No one gives a crap that you posted some species back in '09. People, while tied to artists a respectable amount, are not going always be here. Most people here will get a normal job, commute to work everyday, and live their lives outside of Deviantart. Not twiddle their thumbs at whether or not you created something that you shielded like a disabled child. What the heck does it matter that you if they drew a picture of your sacred species with 6 extra legs? You think someone's seriously going to hold that picture close to them each night to get to sleep? At best, you'll get a "Oh, i remember that" moment, and life resumes. You're not that big of a deal.
Point Two: You can not limit what a person does. Shock! You are not God on DA! Trying to impose the barrier between you and your friends and the rest of the internet is like throwing a stick at stampeding elephants. If they want to draw a picture of your exclusive species their own way, it's going to happen. The amount of hullabaloo you put into your opposition of that fact won't keep people from drawing it, it will just change their opinion of you. You ever watch an artist incredibly paranoid about their exclusive species? It's almost fun watching them self-destruct from the paranoia.
Point Three: Also, there seems to be this idea that if you make a creative species, there are just thousands of people lined up to make their own and screw it up. That is not the case. Unless you really publicize this species, people are very lazy and don't care. Seeing a species once makes them remember it about as long as a goldfish remembers the time. Check any "exclusive species" that isn't tied to someone over 10,000 pageviews as a casualty to that. If you are so paranoid about them doing it wrong, have rules, have back story, have guidelines to help them. If they don't follow the guidelines, tough! It happens! Again, people are lazy, they don't always read all the rules, but as such is life.
Point Four: HALP. A fan of mine made a character using my species! That's great! A person has taken a general interest and likes your idea enough to make an original character in that species! Both are very personal things. But Oh no! The original character has a different storyline or uses something weird that interferes with what I came up with! ---Welcome to the world of artistic interpretation, aka, I liked the idea you had for that species, and I'm adding this detail. It's a compliment! Your idea has sparked new ideas, and has created artistic inspiration for something new. Does that mean you have to change everything you've done? No. Does it mean that everyone will only know it for this new variation? Are you retarded? Artistic interpretations are everywhere, and your exclusive species is no exception. Accept it and move on.
Point Five: DA is the internet. Internet is people. If you are paranoid about people stealing your creation, you picked a poor place to post your super-species. More then that, why did you post any of your artwork here in the first place? You're taking risks, you want your art seen by others. It's the same thing if you post a species. You risk your species turning a weird tangent if it's here at all. Stop using up all your time and effort trying to change that.
This protecting your species because it's yours BS is getting out of hand. If don't want anyone to draw your species but you, don't post it. When people see something they like, they replicate their interpretation to you as a compliment. They're not trying to piss you off, they're not trying to undermine you, they just appreciate what they see. And limiting who can, and can't draw for you is an annoying, over-controlling amount of teen angst that DA can do without; a noisy waste of everyone's time.
There seems to be a growing trend here at Deviantart, Exclusive Species.
Exclusive Species: An open, free (not tied to a story)original species created by an artist, limited to anyone but close friends, on the grounds that what they've made is being persecuted creatively, hence exclusive.
What I target here are the species that the artist adamantly refuses any new ideas, or personal spin-offs of that idea. That, and those who attack an individual for making an Original character in this species. Here's a few things that should be pretty evident that species artists on DA tend to forget that I will go over in detail.
- NO ONE IS GOING TO CARE IN 20 YEARS
- You can NOT limit what a person does. You can only take unnecessary steps to make it more a pain in the butt for both you.
- Contrary to popular belief, there is not a mass group of people waiting to draw your creation badly.
- An OC in your exclusive species is a creative thing, merging your ideas with some of theirs. Don't like change? What are you, 90?
-If you are paranoid about others taking your idea and expanding on it, WHY ARE YOU ON DA?
Point one: NO ONE IS GOING TO CARE IN 20 YEARS. Let's roleplay, alright? We're twenty years in the future. 2029. Besides the flying cars, guess what? No one gives a crap that you posted some species back in '09. People, while tied to artists a respectable amount, are not going always be here. Most people here will get a normal job, commute to work everyday, and live their lives outside of Deviantart. Not twiddle their thumbs at whether or not you created something that you shielded like a disabled child. What the heck does it matter that you if they drew a picture of your sacred species with 6 extra legs? You think someone's seriously going to hold that picture close to them each night to get to sleep? At best, you'll get a "Oh, i remember that" moment, and life resumes. You're not that big of a deal.
Point Two: You can not limit what a person does. Shock! You are not God on DA! Trying to impose the barrier between you and your friends and the rest of the internet is like throwing a stick at stampeding elephants. If they want to draw a picture of your exclusive species their own way, it's going to happen. The amount of hullabaloo you put into your opposition of that fact won't keep people from drawing it, it will just change their opinion of you. You ever watch an artist incredibly paranoid about their exclusive species? It's almost fun watching them self-destruct from the paranoia.
Point Three: Also, there seems to be this idea that if you make a creative species, there are just thousands of people lined up to make their own and screw it up. That is not the case. Unless you really publicize this species, people are very lazy and don't care. Seeing a species once makes them remember it about as long as a goldfish remembers the time. Check any "exclusive species" that isn't tied to someone over 10,000 pageviews as a casualty to that. If you are so paranoid about them doing it wrong, have rules, have back story, have guidelines to help them. If they don't follow the guidelines, tough! It happens! Again, people are lazy, they don't always read all the rules, but as such is life.
Point Four: HALP. A fan of mine made a character using my species! That's great! A person has taken a general interest and likes your idea enough to make an original character in that species! Both are very personal things. But Oh no! The original character has a different storyline or uses something weird that interferes with what I came up with! ---Welcome to the world of artistic interpretation, aka, I liked the idea you had for that species, and I'm adding this detail. It's a compliment! Your idea has sparked new ideas, and has created artistic inspiration for something new. Does that mean you have to change everything you've done? No. Does it mean that everyone will only know it for this new variation? Are you retarded? Artistic interpretations are everywhere, and your exclusive species is no exception. Accept it and move on.
Point Five: DA is the internet. Internet is people. If you are paranoid about people stealing your creation, you picked a poor place to post your super-species. More then that, why did you post any of your artwork here in the first place? You're taking risks, you want your art seen by others. It's the same thing if you post a species. You risk your species turning a weird tangent if it's here at all. Stop using up all your time and effort trying to change that.
This protecting your species because it's yours BS is getting out of hand. If don't want anyone to draw your species but you, don't post it. When people see something they like, they replicate their interpretation to you as a compliment. They're not trying to piss you off, they're not trying to undermine you, they just appreciate what they see. And limiting who can, and can't draw for you is an annoying, over-controlling amount of teen angst that DA can do without; a noisy waste of everyone's time.
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