Which OS are You?

Under "dietary requirements": Do Fruit Roll-Ups count as one or two servings of fruits and vegetables?

Friggin' A. Who knew you could blog right from the Google toolbar on your browser? Sweet...

Anyway, onto less (or more) sordid things.

"Right Place at the Right Time" entry: I was walking to work the other day, and not 20 feet above my head were two crows chasing away a falcon. How cool is that? I've been to upstate NY, seen an eagle way off in the distance at a lake once, and seen several birds of prey down south in North Carolina, but never that close, and not being chased away by crows of all birds. It was just a really nifty sight to behold.


"Clothing Miracle?": For the second time in just over a year, I've experienced what I can only call a clothing miracle. Now, I don't get new clothing that often. It's just not fiscally possible for me. So I'm painfully aware of what clothing I do have. But sometimes, I seem to get new clothing out of thin air! And there's always the same "reversal of buttonry" on each. The first was a regular shirt. No collar (I'm not fond of them). It was long sleeved, fairly thin material, somewhat stretchy. I had bought a few of them at Kmart in NY when the going out of biz sale occured at my local venue. All the same shirts, same style, and with a series of buttons. I liked them because a] they stretched, b] they were adjustable enough (I could roll up the sleeves, open a few buttons and wear them during warmer weather). I got a few different colors, but only *one* of each color. They were like 5 bucks each, otherwise I wouldn't have bought them. I'd also like to add at this point, that I am not your normal "S,M,L,XL" guy. So shirts my size don't generally just 'turn up'. Well, I was living in Raleigh last December (2002), and had my stuff hung up. I was putting clean laundry away, and noticed an extra shirt in my closet. I noticed it, because it was the same color as one of my other shirts, and had the exact same properties, except: No buttons. The shirt went straight up to the elastic collar. I've never bought, or was given this shirt. Yet here it was suddenly. It's not like I would have put it away and didn't notice the two shirts. That second shirt just *wasn't there before*. On top of that, it was also the same size as my other shirts, so it couldn't have just belonged to someone and gotten mistaken for mine. I asked my roommates, and they had no clue about it. It would certainly have been odd to boot, to just get someone a single shirt like that, and hang it in their closet.

The more recent occurance, was with a sweater. I'm not a big sweater wearer, although I will use them sometimes. I have a couple of decent ones (nothing special), except, I now own an extra sweater, that is also virtually identical to one I already owned, except: This one HAS a few buttons running down the front of the collar, whereas my original one has no buttons. But the color, texture and size are all exactly the same again! This time, the sweater was found in a basket full of the kids clothing (my friends kids, I share a room in his house). Again, nobody in the household, even visitors, are even close to my size, so there's no mistaking who the shirt belongs to!

Is it a miracle? Maybe. I'd like to think it is. Gives me some hope.

Now what I could really use to multiply is underwear and jeans...

Stark raving mad. Did you ever ponder that term, and how it relates to your own daily existance? I mean, are there times you have, or just want to go stark raving mad? Do you consider yourself stark raving mad? More interestingly, do the people you *know* consider you stark raving mad? Are you stark raving mad if nobody you know or meet consider you stark raving mad? Will you go stark raving mad if I use the term "stark raving mad" one more time in this monologue? Do you wonder if I even care if I drive you stark raving mad by over using the term stark raving mad? I do actually, but that's not my point.

I sometimes feel like I'm on the loose chain of a lunatic asylum. Of course, I'm also the only detainee of said lunatic asylum. Would that make this asylum one of my own creation, or my way of dealing with the 'outside world'? If one such as myself is always in dissension with the world around me, why must I be the "insane one"? Why is it so damn "cool" to say "Hey, I'm the normal one, it's everyone else who's crazy." Maybe you're the nutcase. Or I'm the nutcase. Or anyone who says that is either ignorant, or arrogant. Or both. Maybe the world is normal, but has a tendancy to propel people into various states of dimentia. Or at least the occassional fit thereto. How many of you UK readers are thinking, "what's he on about now?" (for you US readers: "WTF is he talking about?"). That was just rhetorical. I really don't care. If you're reading this, it's cool. But I'm just sharing my thoughts. If you want to drop me a line, you're more than welcome to. But I'm not going to not share my thoughts as I see fit. Do I see fit? I don't know. I do wear glasses. Do I see unfit? Maybe...

So, just what am I on about? (btw, I'm not a UK'er, but it's a funny term. I like it). Honestly, I haven't the feintest clue... I have a bit of a headache, and am drinking Mountain Dew. It's okay, but I don't want to drink too much soda. So what's going through my noggin? Probably a few things. A bit of cabin fever (I'm at the store 60+ hours a week, and have been almost since it first opened in May 2003). A bit of lonliness (I haven't had a decent conversation with anyone even remotely close to my age in quite awhile [I'm talking year or more]. That's not to slight some of my friends online who are younger than me, but hold conversations well. I'm talking about an actual human being in person. I have no social life at ALL, and the relative ages of people who come into the store are mostly the Junior High School crowd (12-16 for those of you unfamiliar with Junior High). Not that I don't enjoy it. I mean, I've always had trouble being a "grown up", and I can actually relate to these kids in many ways. I also enjoy some of the games (we used to make fun of Yugioh, but who would have imagined I enjoy it more than Magic: The Gathering?), and occassionally can and will play games with them (btw, I'm a decent player, but can be easily beaten, so I'm not at any advantage other than getting the cards cheaper than the kids).

This is just one of those posts that I have to make periodically in order to keep what few strands of sanity I have left. I can't tell you how many times I've contemplated doing a, "David Banner". IE Just packing a sports bag with some basics, choosing a direction and just start walking. It could be what I was mean to do, although I'd rather do it "A-Team" style. (I pity da foo'!).

So, does anybody want to join me for a nice cup of 'stark raving madness'? I like mine with sugar and milk...

Two fisted blogging. It's just a funny term. Didn't hear it anywhere, just made it up. Ah, whatever :]

Anyways, I had some interesting dreams the past couple of nights, thought I'd share:

Some guy came into our house (Mom's apartment in New York, where my sister and nephew are living with her). He had a gun, and was holding us hostage. He didn't seem intent on robbing us, and I'm not really sure what he wanted. The oddest thing though, was that he looked like Matt LeBlanc! (Joey on "Friends") I have nothing against Matt, and actually watched one of his earliest series ("Top of the Heap", the Married with Children spin off), and used to watch Friends regularly. So why my subconscious chose him is beyond me. Anyways, he didn't say much, but at one point I managed to disarm him. He was on his knees in the doorway, hands behind his head. I was behind him, and tried to pistol whip him at the base of the skull (to knock him out). It was a typical wimpy dream swing, that had no power behind it. I remember saying, "Note to self: I have to learn some of those cool 'back of the head' knock out techniques." Somehow, at some point he got his gun away from me, and got downstairs. Now, in NY, mom's apartment is a rather dinky thing, but in the dream, instead of the stairway leading outside, it lead to the floor level. It was nice and spacious. There was also this cheap plastic looking balcony, but it wasn't balcony shaped (more like the outside support beams of a bridge, but in plastic). So "Joey" took a slide along the floor on his back, screaming and shooting at us (he was on the first floor, us the second), so I pushed my sister out of the way and pulled out... a chalk bag? Yes, that chalk bag that bowlers use to keep their hands dry. Only apparently, this one was loaded. I shot back at him. We emptied both our "clips". most of his went into the balcony railing. Many of mine went into him (who knew a chalk bag had such accuracy?). I went down the stairs carefully, and made sure I said (lucidly, as I do tend to have lucid dreams and can actually partially consciously influence them), "he's finished" (just in case my subconscious got any bright ideas to have him suddenly spring back to life). I turned him over (he was face down), and he had a bandana with a death's head symbol on it. But it was now replaced with a "smoking cross" (4 bullets, two up two across in a cross shape, the bulletholes still smoking). And that's how it ended. It was obviously (to some extent) a protective dream (me protecting my family), but what do I have to fear from Matt LeBlanc? How'd the apartment get so spacious? And just what calibre is a chalk bag?

Later on that same night, I had a dream about moving. See, since April 2000 I've moved 5 times. I've learned to live out of Rubbermaid Totes and laundry baskets. But in this second dream, I was REALLy moving. I mean, 3 times in about a week and a half. I don't recall where the first move was to, but the second was to Texas. I have a friend there from one of the internet message boards I frequent, and apparently I was helping him a bit. But a few days later, I upped and moved again, this time to northern California. I don't know why I just stopped helping my Texas friend, but the situation was basically the same (as has been for most of my moves). I stay with a friend for awhile, helping them out locally while I attempt to gain gainful employment so that I can eventually move out of my friends house. I remember my Texas friend has a sweet apartment, with some really nice furniture. I can't imagine being in a rush to move out of there, but I did. In California, I slept on some cushions on the floor. It was actually quite comfy, there was a TV in the room I was sleeping in. Oddly, the house owner was 'visualized' by my subconscious as someone I know here in New Hampshire. He's a gamer (Mechwarrior and Magic mostly), and I've chatted with him quite a bit, but he's still more of an acquaintance in real life than someone I know that well (except for one factoid about his wife cheating on him, but TMI!). Still, I remember waking up groggily and looking out the window. It was still early yet (it's possible some of the early light was shining in my window in real life, and I partially opened my eyes (that happens sometimes) and it just incorporated into my dreams), and I could see I was on the second story. There were some trees, but no snow on the ground. It was quaint. Not really like you'd expect to see in California. The next scene, (this is where it gets wierd), I was looking out the back window, where there was a bit of a driveway or parking lot for the residents. There was snow back there, and a caterpillar truck (the yellow construction vehicles that most people are familiar with) was cleaning up one end. Further back there were a couple of cows licking up snow from the pavement. There was a 'blob' of snow to their side. The asphalt licking cows weren't the wierd thing. It was the 20 foot high, 40 foot long cow near them that was. Next scene, I'm down there, outside at street level with some other people. One was a youngish girl who apparently had a crush on me. As we were watching, we heard a stampede noise. She grabbed my arm, and yelled to everyone to "Come here!". With "here" being behind some barrier thing that would hopefully protect us from the stampede. My subconscious began to betray me here. I said, "cover your ears folks, this could get loud." Then I made this loud, deep reverberating honk. Yes, a honk. It's intention was the placate the stampede. Only thing was, it would apparently work on cattle, but the stampede was revealed to be actually a large group of ... children! I told my subconscious to rewind and do it again, right this time. It rewound, but refused to change the stampede into cattle. So I was a bit embarassed. Some other woman there commented that if I "bounced" the honk against the back of my throat, it would reverberate even louder and be even more effective. I told her, "it has to flow out from my throat. If it hits the back, the reverb will cause it to tickle and cut off the sound." to which the youngish girl told me, "you tell it!" or some other similar such cheer. I don't recall much after that, except for a scene where I actually had that giant cow by the horns and was wrangling it. Wierd stuff.

Last Night
The dream I had last night was also kind of odd. See, I was hanging out for some reason with this group of people (At least the guy was Japanese. The girl might also have been) who were entered in a "dress up" competition. Basically, groups of three would dress up (even person entered individually, but it all counted towards a team score) and do some kind of choreography that would "match their outfit", and get awarded points. The judges were Japanese (doesn't surprise me, as some Japanese game shows have the oddest premises), and the other contestants were too. The guy was dressed in a tuxedo, and did something like a show tunes display. I didn't see the girl, but did see one of the people on the other team wore ancient japanese leather armor, and had blades on his fingers. He was going to do something of a weapons based choreography. Then came my turn. I started out in a tux, but did some flashy spinny thing and ripped off the tux. I was suddenly wearing a fully samurai/kabuki outfit (it was supposed to be kabuki, but instead of facial makeup, I had a fully warlord helmet on. Those big 1.5 foot high things where the face always looks mean and there's a big space by the mouth). This shocked everyone, but many people applauded. Apparently, I was the only non-Japanese contestant, and also the only person doing a traditional Japanese choreography. So I danced around (not randomly, but following kabuki traditions), and kept reminding myself "the blade of the sword never goes face down". I was using a naginata (it's a staff with a broadsword built into the end of it), so everything I did, I tried to keep the staff with the blade face up. Then I did my "big move", which was a split legged, one hand, hand stand. I did it first on a pile of dirt, and while I held it for a few seconds and got some "ooh's" and gasps from the audience, I seemed to be having trouble maintaining it because of the shakey ground. So I danced over to this little set up that had a mini pool. I turned the water on, intent on using it like a 'suction' to give me more stability. I did it again, again, got oohs and aahs. Also, in case I forgot to mention, I had on those Japanese sandals that have the one piece sticking down from them. Basically, you have to have great balance to not fall over with them. So while I was doing my watery handstand (the pool was only about 2 inches deep), a judge came over and told me, "it's time to pay for this", although it was a mis-communique of the phrase, "it's time to score you on this". For some reason Shadoe, my cat was there starring at the water going down the drain (she loves to do that), so as I got down I scratched her head quickly. I then danced over to the other area where I did that spin move again, and ripped off the kabuki outfit to reveal another tuxedo underneath! I'd like to explain something quick: I had woken up, looked at my clock. 10:52am. I knew my alarm was going to go off at 11am. But I went back to sleep anyway and that's when the dream *started*. My alarm went off right before I actually got to perform, but I managed to hit the snooze button and keep on dreaming. After I revealed the second tux, my alarm went off at 11:09am, and that's when I woke up.

I tell ya, sometimes I have the most interesting dreams. And sometimes the crappiest. But they are seldom dull...

Edit: In a fit of irony, Blogger puked again as I was attempting to post the entry below. Through some finagaling (and using *two* browsers) the entry mysteriously appeared (but only in the edit section, not in the publically accessible part you're reading now). Wierd...

You know, I rather like Blogger. It's pretty easy to use. It seems to be "freer" than LiveJournal (the other big popular blog). Not to rag on LJ, I have some good friends on there. I'm just saying, LJ, at least up until recently, seemed to be an elitest kind of site. You had to know someone who has an account in order to get your own. Now it's open game. But still, Blogger is easy to use.

Viva La Blogger!

It never ceases to amaze me. I can talk up a storm, but sit down and write, even like this, which is just a 'say what I'm feeling' thing, or I'll have inspiration up the wazoo, but when I draw, I tend to ditch page after page of scratch (ie the attempts to actually visualize my inspiration in a semi tangible manner). So what gives. Is it performance anxiety? Do I need "Creators Viagra"? Some sort of chemical stimulation for the creation centers in my brain to get that much needed cranial erection? And more importantly, does it come in a "patch" form?

Here's my latest picture, "Two Snow Men fighting in a Snow Storm":





























Lovely, isn't it? The subtle dynamics of the first snowman as he fights relentlessly to get his corn cob pipe back from the second snowm... aw, who the heck am I kidding? I just hit "enter" a few times and fudged it. Still, I've been running this (or the "me naked in a snowstorm") gag for years. I even once actually drew myself naked in a snowstorm. It's okay, I covered up the naughty bits. Besides, I didn't want to be accused of unnecessary exaggeration ;]

If I'm feeling daring tonight, I might see how much sour apple big league chew I can fit in my face, whilst frying my brain to the emotional high that is "Badger"...

Remember folks, friends don't let friends Badger and blog...

My newest addiction:

Badger. This has got to be the addictive single thing I've found on the internet in my six years of surfing (okay, 5 and a half. The first six months I did nothing but search for porn. I mean it, NOTHING else. Well, accept sign up for a yahoo email account, for said porn).

But really, if you find anything even remotely as addictive as "Badger", let me know. Please.

Dreams really do come true...

I had this wierd dream the other night, and the ONLY thing I came away from it with, was a desire for some kind of banana smoothie or banana drink. So yesterday, as I'm ordering lunch, I didn't want any soft drinks, so I asked what kind of non-soda's they had. Snapple apparently has a drink called "Go Bananas", and they had it. Woohoo!

If I was suddenly able to breathe fire (I mean without the aid of inhalants, exhalants, any kind of flammable (or imflammable for that matter) fuel, gamma radiation or a horrible mutagenic accident), would that make me famous? Or just someone with a novel way of getting rid of bad breath?

Just something to ponder...

argh. I had an entire post/essay involving chicken wings, and blogger barfed, and there went the entire thing... I may rewrite it, but for now I'll just say "Argh" and go eat lunch...

I'm your friendly cyberhood on-off blog poster. LOVE ME!


*ahem*


Sorry. I'm over it. I think... LO... yeah, I'm over it.

So, how did you spend your new years day? Who here had a hangover, raise your glass.
Who here got laid? No no, no need to get out of bed.

Who here did neither? Oh wait, you're reading this blog, so I guess that's all of you... Oh well, at least you're not alone :]

I've never put much stock in the old addage that what you do the first day of the year dictates the rest of your year. It never has before (and I hope it doesn't now, because I slept like crazy. I slept for 15 hours, spent about an hour and a half on the phone talking to family and the former girlfriend, then took a two hour nap, and was ready for bed 6 and a half hours later!).

What are my goals for this year? Well, to get out of this darn funk. It's really kept me from doing a lot. I have practically stopped drawing because of it. I mean, I've had my slow spots, but I just have NO desire whatsoever to draw. That's bad. I could write. Although granted I have more "creativity" than "writing" in me, I almost got a job writing a sequel to a big budget hollywood effects movie. (I probably exaggerate how close I actually came, but I did speak to some up-and-ups at the actual studio, and got the legitimized reason why I was turned down (aside from the fact it seems they have decided to not go through with a sequel for the time being), plus I know the people who were responsible for the first movie, so I like to think I am more important to the franchise than I actually am. :]

I would like to draw (period. as opposed to more), and make them actual scenes (backgrounds and all). The best thing I drew in 2003 was a 4 page sequential story for a drawoff at Digital Webbing, featuring my own character and that of another forum members. He won the draw off, but I had a lot of fun. I got to be creative, humorous, I got to draw sequentials, and I even drew backgrounds (they weren't overly detailed, but then the entire scenario was akin to a Road Runner episode, so they were as detailed as they needed to be). I want to do more like that, and I want to do entire books worth (at least 22 pages). I started pencilling someone's script, and in the first panel alone I achieved detail that I didn't realize I was capable of. I know I have it within me, I am just so lacking in drive/motivation...