Wow. What a week so far! I have been busy!
Right now, at this moment, I stay up too late before work tomorrow as I have been off for the past two days. In the back of my mind I suspect I am being "punished" for breaking a table at work.. a leg that was already split and was obviously so because of the glue on the outside of it's antique "table of my grandmother" goodness. Still I could have moved it differently I guess, and mayhap I should know better, but I have moved tables like that all the time with no issue. So who knows with the shadowy recesses of my boss' mind? What difference would it make anyway? I bought comics!
So far this has been a big week of closure I think. I had a bunch of experiences. There was a wedding that went nice, I had an odd incident in Ann Arbor, I went dancing last Thurs and was quite surprised by it's turnout. I have been caring for this kitten and things have blended. I was painting last night and researching writing techniques in order to hopefully put a proper story together for a possible comic book.
I was jamming to songs and they did not hurt to hear.. I found I may be able to play Phil Collins' "That's All" on the harmonica... it's sketchy but there. Not quite as good as my "Heart of Gold" by Neil Young though.
I have been in a better place as of late, but the Ann Arbor incident has me thinking... I have been questioning my artistic place lately. What is my art really about? I mean I draw, I paint, and I love this or that, but why? A long while ago I decried my art because I felt all I was doing was peddling illusions. Nothing real. Nothing solid to give anyone. Only half truths and nothing that could be proven.
Right now I would completely disagree with the validity of that statement. I was basically slapped in the face about how my philosophies and the stories and terms I use to illustrate them were only so much useless fluff in a world where "real" issues exist.
This has me thinking. What I say and what I know IS REAL. Sure I cloak it in dragons, ninjas, robot monkeys, and how awesome my pants are! You know why? A spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down! Did you know that the tenants of the Jedi Code are IN FACT a good way to live? That if more people followed the philosophies and concepts of The Force that our world would not just be some commercialistic bucket of lame, but a place of genuine mutual respect and harmony? Think about it!
Emotion, yet peace.
Ignorance, yet knowledge.
Passion, yet serenity.
Chaos, yet harmony.
Death, yet the Force.
I could have used the "revised" version of the Jedi Code where it says: "there is no emotion, there is peace etc...", but I feel it does not accurately relfect or respect the choices people make about life the universe and everything. It denys and does not acknowledge the existence of the Dark Side. The listed version says, no matter what, you have a choice!
So here's my deal, this shite does not exist, never existed, and the closest thing to it that does exist in "reality" is the tenants of Bushido, the code of the Samurai, and Zen. All this was implemented by the imagination of some wanky dude that later raped Indiana Jones ("South Park" speaks truth too!). Imagination! Story Telling! This shit ain't real? Why don't we ask the college professors that use it in school to teach? Why don't we ask everyone it's touched? Why don't we ask the multitudes of fanboys out there who would give their virginity for a lightsaber!
Dammit tell me what's real and what ain't!
So Ann Arbor hit me hard, but it cleared me up a little. I know what I offer with stories, and I know what I bring to the table. You may not like the bard in the party, but he's what tells everyone what you did.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
I shall bring you a "Shrubbery!"
Ahh! I just cut my nails... much much better!
So I sit here and I have been posting pictures, talking to everyone, went to my friend Banditt's wedding yesterday, goofed off on the internet... and I played with my kitten! Yes my Kitten!
So. I have found a kitten. I was about to go to the hospital to see my Dad and I found a kitten as we were leaving. I heard it mewling in the bushes and saw it's eyes were gummed shut and it seemed to be abandoned. I took a warm cloth to it's face and opened it's eyes again. I watched it over night and kept it's eyes clean, and it seemed to be better. I took it to the vet the next day and they deflead it gave it some meds, and eye drops for it's infections. They were very helpful. It's really doing well right now, we will get it tested for the hard core cat diseases in a couple weeks to make sure it will be well.
You may be asking yourself why I am going on about some kitten rather than my dad right now... I know I'm asking myself that question. My dad had diarrhea really bad and an infection in his leg and it turns out that it's because he has not been digesting food well because he's anemic - which is associated with the diabetes? The infection could be not properly washing one's hands after the bathroom. But this is one incident in a long string of them. It sounds serious and it might be. They are putting him in a home for a while to get him rehabilitated... probably to muscle him up and make him more mobile. I bet this anemia is associated with lack of blood flow which is the result of a lack of exercise, and probably has something to do with sitting in a wheelchair all day watching 70's staple television without stretching, toning the muscles, or doing much of anything other than asking everyone to get stuff for him... See, I don't intend to be a selfish bastard here, but I don't know what to say either. Is this brought on himself? Is it independently serious? Should I feel pity? Remorse? Should I not be relieved that trained professionals who have dealt with people like him before are dealing with him now, instead of my mother?
I don't know how to feel about my Dad come to think of it. He did do things for me, he did a lot. I do love him and I want to help him... but what do ya do with someone who does need help, but then they go too far and basically never help themselves? Imagine someone falling and asking for a hand, and then going limp and expecting someone to take their entire weight to the nearest hospital... at it's worst it feels like that sometimes.
At it's best, it's good to be able to talk to my Dad, BS about stuff. But then it's just running around and serving him after a minute. See, this is a very complicated issue for me, and I have no clear sane way to articulate it. The issue of "My Dad" is this epic level of messed up to explain or talk about. Hell I probably already said too much? When don't I?
Anyway, on with this blog. My point? I have issues with my Dad. My Mom has issues with my Dad. My Dad has issues with my Dad. Things have been rough and terrible here while I was away. I never realized the extent of the drama and the issues of what my home life was/is like until I came back. All the senseless darkness, all the imprisoned thoughts and feelings. There is kindness, there is love, dedication, duty, honor... but oh so much despair. It permeates and subdues, gazing at us from every mirror.
So, what's this got to do with a kitten? This Kitten whose name is Shrubbery Rofalao McFiesty makes my Mom laugh while dad is away. She has gotten into it ya see. She has given it toys and loves to watch it run around and play. We are going to straighten up the house and keep the kitten safe. It's a reason to do something here. The kitten makes me smile and gives me something to love and hold on to. I suspect it will help Dad as well when he comes back. I think that's what we needed more than anything... something that brings us hope and makes us feel like we are actually accomplishing something. The Kitten may well be what the Doctor ordered.
So I sit here and I have been posting pictures, talking to everyone, went to my friend Banditt's wedding yesterday, goofed off on the internet... and I played with my kitten! Yes my Kitten!
So. I have found a kitten. I was about to go to the hospital to see my Dad and I found a kitten as we were leaving. I heard it mewling in the bushes and saw it's eyes were gummed shut and it seemed to be abandoned. I took a warm cloth to it's face and opened it's eyes again. I watched it over night and kept it's eyes clean, and it seemed to be better. I took it to the vet the next day and they deflead it gave it some meds, and eye drops for it's infections. They were very helpful. It's really doing well right now, we will get it tested for the hard core cat diseases in a couple weeks to make sure it will be well.
You may be asking yourself why I am going on about some kitten rather than my dad right now... I know I'm asking myself that question. My dad had diarrhea really bad and an infection in his leg and it turns out that it's because he has not been digesting food well because he's anemic - which is associated with the diabetes? The infection could be not properly washing one's hands after the bathroom. But this is one incident in a long string of them. It sounds serious and it might be. They are putting him in a home for a while to get him rehabilitated... probably to muscle him up and make him more mobile. I bet this anemia is associated with lack of blood flow which is the result of a lack of exercise, and probably has something to do with sitting in a wheelchair all day watching 70's staple television without stretching, toning the muscles, or doing much of anything other than asking everyone to get stuff for him... See, I don't intend to be a selfish bastard here, but I don't know what to say either. Is this brought on himself? Is it independently serious? Should I feel pity? Remorse? Should I not be relieved that trained professionals who have dealt with people like him before are dealing with him now, instead of my mother?
I don't know how to feel about my Dad come to think of it. He did do things for me, he did a lot. I do love him and I want to help him... but what do ya do with someone who does need help, but then they go too far and basically never help themselves? Imagine someone falling and asking for a hand, and then going limp and expecting someone to take their entire weight to the nearest hospital... at it's worst it feels like that sometimes.
At it's best, it's good to be able to talk to my Dad, BS about stuff. But then it's just running around and serving him after a minute. See, this is a very complicated issue for me, and I have no clear sane way to articulate it. The issue of "My Dad" is this epic level of messed up to explain or talk about. Hell I probably already said too much? When don't I?
Anyway, on with this blog. My point? I have issues with my Dad. My Mom has issues with my Dad. My Dad has issues with my Dad. Things have been rough and terrible here while I was away. I never realized the extent of the drama and the issues of what my home life was/is like until I came back. All the senseless darkness, all the imprisoned thoughts and feelings. There is kindness, there is love, dedication, duty, honor... but oh so much despair. It permeates and subdues, gazing at us from every mirror.
So, what's this got to do with a kitten? This Kitten whose name is Shrubbery Rofalao McFiesty makes my Mom laugh while dad is away. She has gotten into it ya see. She has given it toys and loves to watch it run around and play. We are going to straighten up the house and keep the kitten safe. It's a reason to do something here. The kitten makes me smile and gives me something to love and hold on to. I suspect it will help Dad as well when he comes back. I think that's what we needed more than anything... something that brings us hope and makes us feel like we are actually accomplishing something. The Kitten may well be what the Doctor ordered.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
GOLDSMITH! Crowded House is playing!
I am here cleaning my room and putting clothes away and listening to Crowded House's "Don't Dream it's Over" and it occurs to me that would be a theme song for my recent previous relationship.
I felt the need to put this into this blog because the whole time I hoped and hoped that it would work out. That there would be that day where we finally would stop fighting - where one of us would see past the incidental crap and realize how much love there actually was... or could have been. I know I tried to see past it... but I could always feel the brewing stewing dedication to blindness. Every time I felt it was finally resolved, once and for all, that the feeling that our lives could be great and wonderful as we had foreseen together, something completely stupid would happen which would be mine or her fault and and start the whole thing all over again.
I am thinking about this now, and I am just sad and disappointed that love always seems to be difficult because it can be such a simple thing. The need to be with another. Whether it be friend, lovers, family or anything. It's the desire to be connected with something/ someone other than yourself. How is this so damn difficult then? *GOLDSMITH!
I think love hurts me so much because it's difficult for me to connect to things. I don't think and move like other people do. I know that for sure... but I think it's not about being a perfect harmony or anything, but a genuine respect and admiration for something/ someone other than yourself?
I think what kills love for many is that fear of not really being connected. That what you or I may know is a lie. That there is no God, no communion with anything. We are all alone talking to ourselves and our imaginations, that nothing else is real.
Or maybe I just took a small thought and jumped over a shark. How could we not be connected? Even if it's in our own minds? Or rather is how we feel about being connected the only truth? Gadzooks! I've gone cross-eyed!
Anyway, feeling love for others and other things is a wonderful state of experience that happens to make you want to rip your heart and spleen out with a salad fork from time to time. That means you're connected I'm pretty sure. I regret nothing *GOLDSMITH!
La Ninja - sucker for warm fuzzies.
*"Goldsmith" is what my spell checker replaces "G*dd*mm*t" with in my typing program. I actually like this better... so ya know ;D
I felt the need to put this into this blog because the whole time I hoped and hoped that it would work out. That there would be that day where we finally would stop fighting - where one of us would see past the incidental crap and realize how much love there actually was... or could have been. I know I tried to see past it... but I could always feel the brewing stewing dedication to blindness. Every time I felt it was finally resolved, once and for all, that the feeling that our lives could be great and wonderful as we had foreseen together, something completely stupid would happen which would be mine or her fault and and start the whole thing all over again.
I am thinking about this now, and I am just sad and disappointed that love always seems to be difficult because it can be such a simple thing. The need to be with another. Whether it be friend, lovers, family or anything. It's the desire to be connected with something/ someone other than yourself. How is this so damn difficult then? *GOLDSMITH!
I think love hurts me so much because it's difficult for me to connect to things. I don't think and move like other people do. I know that for sure... but I think it's not about being a perfect harmony or anything, but a genuine respect and admiration for something/ someone other than yourself?
I think what kills love for many is that fear of not really being connected. That what you or I may know is a lie. That there is no God, no communion with anything. We are all alone talking to ourselves and our imaginations, that nothing else is real.
Or maybe I just took a small thought and jumped over a shark. How could we not be connected? Even if it's in our own minds? Or rather is how we feel about being connected the only truth? Gadzooks! I've gone cross-eyed!
Anyway, feeling love for others and other things is a wonderful state of experience that happens to make you want to rip your heart and spleen out with a salad fork from time to time. That means you're connected I'm pretty sure. I regret nothing *GOLDSMITH!
La Ninja - sucker for warm fuzzies.
*"Goldsmith" is what my spell checker replaces "G*dd*mm*t" with in my typing program. I actually like this better... so ya know ;D
Saturday, August 14, 2010
An ode to the "Ogazmo" theme song!
I am not sure what to write here as I believe it will devolve into emotional trudgery, fit for only Jerry Springer and High School drama class. I don't know about you, but I only like my drama in Role-Playing games and stories. I got over the High School BS when I was 25! (Late bloomer ya see, and a creative to boot!). I am more about feelings than other people - I know.
To describe what that's like with my emotions is like trying to describe an ocean flooding against a coastal town that is so used to being flooded they don't think much of the off hand typhoon, much less the typical rises and falls of the tides themselves. Right now how I feel is on par with the idea of "The Perfect Storm" as the coastal town is at it's limits to cope... but I think the rainy season is abating somewhat and my life has gotten better... or rather the coastal town has gotten better equipment and has been watching a lot of "My Name is Earl" and "Dr. Who" until the water lowers a bit more and proper clean up can happen.
So what is the big deal here? What is this typhoon of doom that I discuss? I think I am totally about someone and it not only caught me really off guard, but at a point where all these other little storms were happening. My biggest fear is that I will be seen as a crazy person, which I'm not. I'm just emotionally intense, but not clinically so.
Now I wonder about that statement as I write this - my insides are scrambling about and going absolutely stupid. Every thought, every action, every deed, goes into what I could do to remedy this situation. Honestly I would rather not feel anything. I would rather just go on about my life and be cool with it. I want this person to like me and I think they genuinely appreciate my existence, it's just that I sense many roadblocks. This is such a High School situation for me and I don't like it. I am in my Parents house, in my old room, hanging out on old ways and that is definitely not how to solve this specific equation. One important note here however. I feel karmicly, that I am not done here yet.
There is so much bad going on in my parents house that I don't even know where to begin. I... have nothing. I cannot stay to help unless I want to carry everything and forgo my career and my own life (as Toledo has a wonderful art scene, but not quite a place to make money at it). I feel my parents, though they are good people, cannot quite take care of themselves without some serious restructuring of psychology or faith.
My issue is that I want a family someday. I want to be something more than suffering the wasting tan of the East Side of Toledo. I had not realized how much I was influenced by all of this until I moved back home. It hurts. It hurts so much to see a place I loved and do love hate itself so much (a bit like my last relationship come to think of it). I don't have any idea where to start other than to really really clean my room and rebuild it. To throw away everything from the past, good and bad, and start over.
I could say chuck it, and move away, but I might as well be an angsty teenager and run away from home. I do intend on moving elsewhere eventually and soon (Portland, OR? Santa Fe, NM?, Atlanta, Ga?) but I have no specific plans yet as this isn't over. I also need a new job so bad that I can't even express it in words.
So all this and I like a girl... she rocks my world to it's very core. She challenges everything I believe in and stirs up stuff I didn't know I had. Stuff that I hadn't felt in... what? I don't even remember actually. I just keep thinking that my arrangement of life facts will come off as a puppy lovin' fan boy, and that is so not my intent here... although realistically that is what I have always been. Come to think of it, everything I am in right now screams "BOY!" That is not what I am though. I am, in fact, a man... I suppose the theme song from "Oragzmo" should play here right now huh?
Anyway I think I more or less avoided Springer-esque drama while discussing my emotional issues on an idle Saturday. Now off to my studio to paint, and hopefully finish a pen and ink!
To describe what that's like with my emotions is like trying to describe an ocean flooding against a coastal town that is so used to being flooded they don't think much of the off hand typhoon, much less the typical rises and falls of the tides themselves. Right now how I feel is on par with the idea of "The Perfect Storm" as the coastal town is at it's limits to cope... but I think the rainy season is abating somewhat and my life has gotten better... or rather the coastal town has gotten better equipment and has been watching a lot of "My Name is Earl" and "Dr. Who" until the water lowers a bit more and proper clean up can happen.
So what is the big deal here? What is this typhoon of doom that I discuss? I think I am totally about someone and it not only caught me really off guard, but at a point where all these other little storms were happening. My biggest fear is that I will be seen as a crazy person, which I'm not. I'm just emotionally intense, but not clinically so.
Now I wonder about that statement as I write this - my insides are scrambling about and going absolutely stupid. Every thought, every action, every deed, goes into what I could do to remedy this situation. Honestly I would rather not feel anything. I would rather just go on about my life and be cool with it. I want this person to like me and I think they genuinely appreciate my existence, it's just that I sense many roadblocks. This is such a High School situation for me and I don't like it. I am in my Parents house, in my old room, hanging out on old ways and that is definitely not how to solve this specific equation. One important note here however. I feel karmicly, that I am not done here yet.
There is so much bad going on in my parents house that I don't even know where to begin. I... have nothing. I cannot stay to help unless I want to carry everything and forgo my career and my own life (as Toledo has a wonderful art scene, but not quite a place to make money at it). I feel my parents, though they are good people, cannot quite take care of themselves without some serious restructuring of psychology or faith.
My issue is that I want a family someday. I want to be something more than suffering the wasting tan of the East Side of Toledo. I had not realized how much I was influenced by all of this until I moved back home. It hurts. It hurts so much to see a place I loved and do love hate itself so much (a bit like my last relationship come to think of it). I don't have any idea where to start other than to really really clean my room and rebuild it. To throw away everything from the past, good and bad, and start over.
I could say chuck it, and move away, but I might as well be an angsty teenager and run away from home. I do intend on moving elsewhere eventually and soon (Portland, OR? Santa Fe, NM?, Atlanta, Ga?) but I have no specific plans yet as this isn't over. I also need a new job so bad that I can't even express it in words.
So all this and I like a girl... she rocks my world to it's very core. She challenges everything I believe in and stirs up stuff I didn't know I had. Stuff that I hadn't felt in... what? I don't even remember actually. I just keep thinking that my arrangement of life facts will come off as a puppy lovin' fan boy, and that is so not my intent here... although realistically that is what I have always been. Come to think of it, everything I am in right now screams "BOY!" That is not what I am though. I am, in fact, a man... I suppose the theme song from "Oragzmo" should play here right now huh?
Anyway I think I more or less avoided Springer-esque drama while discussing my emotional issues on an idle Saturday. Now off to my studio to paint, and hopefully finish a pen and ink!
Thursday, August 12, 2010
AHHH A bug on my arm!!!!
Right now I listen to Journey's "Don't stop believin'". This was one of the last songs at the dance I went to at Gencon. The entire crowd was locked arm and arm in a giant circle, I was in good company and it's brought all us geeks together in an epic way. There was much camaraderie.
I listen to this and I am attempting to write the rough draft of a comic book. I don't want to go into too much detail, as I fear my ability to follow through with it. The work I have ahead of me is daunting if I am to pull this off. I want to be able to tell a grand tale over 6-12 issues. I have never written a proper comic book and I want it to sing! I want it to look professional, but I know it will be clumsy. Mayhap it won't be if I pay enough attention...
Fleetwood Mac's "Don't stop".
I have work tomorrow, I am on a super strong coffee caffeine high. I have been doing research on Astoria, OR where the setting is loosely based. I know the characters, I can feel the setting, I have a vague concept of the look I want, I know incidences and key points, but the pacing and paneling. The fear comes from the angles and the intricacies. The actual page layouts and the dialogue. (Harry Bellafonte "Senora").
I want to write this, I want it to be a freaking awesome story. I need to do this! Writing, drawing, and creating is like sleeping. I never want to go to bed on time, but when I do I don't want to wake up. My mind shifts in a dream state and I want it to focus on something specific, but I have to trick it and relax to go there... very much like controlling dream from my experience.
It's like having a freaky bug on your arm that you have to study, but being calm enough to observe it without freaking out while your skin crawls. That's what creating big stuff like this is like me thinks. (Fats Domino "Blueberry Hill").
La Ninja - wielder of the sacred spatula!
(Ray Charles - "Hit the road jack")
I listen to this and I am attempting to write the rough draft of a comic book. I don't want to go into too much detail, as I fear my ability to follow through with it. The work I have ahead of me is daunting if I am to pull this off. I want to be able to tell a grand tale over 6-12 issues. I have never written a proper comic book and I want it to sing! I want it to look professional, but I know it will be clumsy. Mayhap it won't be if I pay enough attention...
Fleetwood Mac's "Don't stop".
I have work tomorrow, I am on a super strong coffee caffeine high. I have been doing research on Astoria, OR where the setting is loosely based. I know the characters, I can feel the setting, I have a vague concept of the look I want, I know incidences and key points, but the pacing and paneling. The fear comes from the angles and the intricacies. The actual page layouts and the dialogue. (Harry Bellafonte "Senora").
I want to write this, I want it to be a freaking awesome story. I need to do this! Writing, drawing, and creating is like sleeping. I never want to go to bed on time, but when I do I don't want to wake up. My mind shifts in a dream state and I want it to focus on something specific, but I have to trick it and relax to go there... very much like controlling dream from my experience.
It's like having a freaky bug on your arm that you have to study, but being calm enough to observe it without freaking out while your skin crawls. That's what creating big stuff like this is like me thinks. (Fats Domino "Blueberry Hill").
La Ninja - wielder of the sacred spatula!
(Ray Charles - "Hit the road jack")
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