Catalogue   
11:47pm 06/11/2010
 
mood: suicidal
This is a ranty post from an LJ user back from the dead, but only for a little bit.  No one need read it.  I just need an outlet to organize my thoughts that I can't talk to anyone about.

I don't recall when I last posted, and I'm not going to bother looking it up.  Years ago, I'm sure.

In the time since, I've created a life that looks a little like this:  I am a student at VCU in the strategic advertising concentration of mass communications.  I've been married to Cat for about a year.  I work at a Barnes & Noble on my campus.  I work on the side at anime conventions where I sell Cat and Deirdre's artwork, and contribute a little to the table in other small ways.  I have written short stories for pleasure, but nothing that I really share with anyone.  My family is largely out of my hair and appropriately distant and loving.

A thriving and successful life.

Here's how I feel:  I am hollow and hopeless and disgusted with my whininess.  I've just gotten the advice from a friend who is far more capable and thriving that myself that I should get over myself and cheer up.  I hate that my writing isn't as good as I want it to be, and it never progresses.  I hate that the best job I've ever had is working for The Man in a corporate bookstore taking over the world.  I hate my major.  The only reason I enrolled in it at all was to learn enough Photoshop to help bring Cat's artwork to better quality.  I hate that my first year of marriage has been full of insecurity and fights and no money.  I hate my spending habits, and that I can't seem to control them.  I hate that I'm on Prozac.  I hate that I'm in counseling.  I hate that I wonder when I'm having a bad day, people who know about the anti-depressants just ask if I've taken my medicine.  I hate that I was burgled recently.  I hate that I've spent too much money on items that if I'd researched a bit more I could have gotten better quality and spent less of a dear enough resource.  I hate that I whine about how much my life sucks when I know I'm supposed to be thankful enough to have legs and food and so on.  I hate that I'm fat and ugly.  I hate that I care that I'm fat and ugly.  I hate that Cat keeps trying to call me pretty anyway, even though I ask him not to.  I hate that Cat keeps telling that that he won't pressure me, then he has a fight with me about sex.  I hate that I don't want to sleep with him.  I hate that I still get horny.  I hate my genitalia.  I hate my fingers.  I hate not having skills even when I study.  I hate that I forget processes if I don't do them consistently.  I hate that I still want to sleep with people other that Cat too.  I hate that I can satisfy questions for others with tarot cards but don't have a sense of spirit in my own heart.  I hate that I'm not as smart as I used to think I was.  I hate that I'm jealous of my friends.  I hate having so many possessions that I can't just leave whenever I want.  I hate being a slave to stuff.  I hate the smell of my city.  I hate where I live.  I hate feeling racism in my head when I make assumptions because of the neighborhood in which I live.  I hate not being worthy of respect.  I hate not being strong other than just heavy and weighty.  I hate sucking at art.  I hate being boring.  I hate listening to other people who think they're awesome because NO ONE is awesome.  I hate being female.  I hate being human.  I hate being alive.

I think I'm cursed.  Or maybe I'm just a waste of skin.  Or lazy.  Here are things that have happened to me that I consider very bad things in my life:

In middle school, my family was evicted for failing to pay rent.  I had to go live with my abusive grandmother for several years in a tiny town of scary-hood.
In high school, I was suspended from school because the bipolar girlfriend of a friend lied to the school counselors and claimed I was going to bring a gun to school.
After the previous incident, I dual-enrolled in community college.  Halfway through the year, my mother found out that I was talking to one of my former friends and trying to patch up problems.  She removed me from college and I had to finish my diploma at night school with the druggies and pregnant girls.
In my first attempt at college, I maintained a long distance relationship with Cat.  Because I wasn't dating at VCU, my family started telling me to "test drive and trade up".  This eventually led to the assumption that Cat was somehow BDSM mind-controlling me.  I lost love and support there.
I failed a class in my first semester at university.  Because of my bad grades, my family pulled me out of school.  I broke down and went to live with Cat's family.
Eventually, Cat and I lived on our own in Blacksburg.  I lost my job for being gay.
While we were unemployed and then later working for Burger King, Cat fell grievously ill.  He spent two weeks in a coma, and a year or so recovery.  Due to injuries sustained while IN THE HOSPITAL, he has never been able to run or be without pain since.  No one has been willing to help us bring suit to the hospital, and now the statute of limitations has run out.
We moved back to the hick town with my family in order to try to recover my scholastic career.  I went to community college.  No huge problems there, except constant fighting with Cat, who was trapped in the house and not allowed to leave (did I mention an abusive grandmother?)
Since moving to Richmond and attending VCU, I've seemingly been perpetually in poor health.  Our house has been filled with roaches and ants like out of a horror movie.  No, more so.  I took pictures that perhaps I should post in a more social mood.  They smell really bad.
I've lost a friend due to a respect issue.
I've become progressively more insecure as I fall further and further behind the people around me.
I've had perpetual car trouble that saps my financial resources.
I've started doing more conventions on the theory of making money, but have perpetually lost more and more money.
This semester, I became very very ill for two weeks, and have lost part of the hearing in my right ear.
My house was burgled while I was asleep in it.  No, I didn't have renter's insurance.  It had JUST run out from when I last purchased.
My mother has been in and out of hospitals, physical and mental, for the past two years.  Periodically I'll get a call after the fact: "Oh, the reason that when you called home and couldn't get anyone is that your mother was about to kill herself and we didn't want you to worry so we didn't tell you until she came back."
My mother has turned into an alcoholic.
Cat keeps drinking, sneaking-like, around me.
I feel stupid and tired and angry and disgusting all the time.  I feel insecure and hated by everyone around me.  There are these amazing people I know, and I always feel like they are withholding from judging me just because they are kind people.  I hear how they talk about other people with kind, sympathetic irritation.  I'm quite sure they use that same voice about me when I'm not around, or simply don't say what they really think.

I want to die.  I've wanted to die so much this year.  I keep thinking it, feeling it.

I keep thinking about who should have what from my possessions.  I want to give people things constantly, wrap things up tidily.  I keep fantasizing about stepping in front of a Richmond city bus.  They've already killed a couple pedestrians, right?  But the chances of living are still too high.  I don't have access to truly murderous drugs.  And bleeding to death is so over-dramatic.  I wish there was a death clinic that I could pay to clean up the body.  But even countries that permit suicide require that you have some deathly disease.  What about "failed at life and doesn't contribute to the world in a meaningful way"?  Isn't that bad enough?

I'm tired all the time.  I don't sleep much, except when all I want to do is sleep.  I'm so tired and I wish I could die.  I wish that Cat at least saw me as something other than an irritant, or full of myself, or stupid, or whatever it is.  I wish he would cuddle me and tell me he loves me and would take care of me like I took care of him.  I wish I had taken enough care of him when he needed it.  Maybe he wouldn't feel this way about me now if I had.

Damn, but Trotsky had some intense eyes.  Maybe that was the crazy leaking out.
 
      18 stab wounds...slash satal
 
Story: The Berliner King, after Schubert   
12:33am 28/09/2010
 

The sky is always grey in Berlin, a cold and cool blast of non-color that hurts his eyes while he’s looking up – so he looks around and to the sides of buildings.  His father hurries Otis along, but his eyes take in the endless, crushing grey with wide hopelessness.

“You’ll not be so slow at your work, will you?” asks his father.  He quickens his step so that the lines in concrete are bridged two at a time.  Even though Otis’ legs are even longer and finer than his father’s, his steps waver and vary until he catches the almost audible tightening in his father’s jaw muscles.

Otis holds his letter of introduction in his left hand.  The other he had jammed into the forward pocket of his Duffel coat.  He tries to affect the confident stride so desired by his age set, but is entirely too interested in the glimpses of lives.

Here is an older man resting his tired legs, a hausfrau shopping, two people his own age laughing at their own cleverness.  They all have grey eyes, crowded with the city, it’s age.  Then, as though he’d always been there, there appeared the Berliner.  Like I’ve always thought he would be.

Of course this red-lipped and slick-haired Berliner would be in the city of Der Eigene and Nollendorfplatz and Eldorado.  Otis calls to his father, “Look!”

“You’ll have time to look later.”

“No, at him.”  He does not point, but indicats the thin man with a stare.

The father catches sight of the still figure, like another rain-eaten stone angel.  The bulge of his cheek muscle swells.  “You’d do better to look ahead, my son.  This isn’t a thing for you to see.  Say to me that no one at all is there.  Say that you just see morning fog.  Think instead of where you’re to be employed.”

The Berliner doesn’t smile.  One sharper corner of his mouth tilts enough to let Otis know that he’d been noticed.  The Berliner’s suit slips around his body in tight and well-formed wool.  Otis stares a long time before realizing that the image of the man has stayed with him over at least two blocks.  Buses and dogwalkers have passed in front of him, and the image of his Berliner stays with him.  He’s almost touchable.

            The Berliner is surely inviting, but to what?  A stupid kind of grin fixes itself on Otis’ wide, pale face.  The scent of Berlin is catching to him, and this king he has spotted has inspired him to adopt the city to his own love.  He shivers, and his father glowers at so much expressivity.

            There he is again, around Friedrichstraße as they cross.  Could it be getting darker?  Or is the Berliner simply so luminous that all else dims?  The bold red lips of the strange figure of a dandy move as a whisper, calling him.  “Father!” says Otis quickly.  “I think I need to—”

            “What?  What else could you want?  There, just ahead.”  The Köring sign has a stately gothic typeface, gouged into the gilt and wood.

            The voice tickles Otis’ ears.  “You’re a pretty country boy, come to play in my town?”

            Otis shivers again, the cool grey leeching into his skin, bit by bit.  His skin is grey when he sees it in his peripheral vision.  Bit by bit, he smiles more.  He sees only grey for himself, and feels cool fingers in his hair, and sees nothing nothing nothing but blood red Berliner lips.

            The man who had come to Berlin with a son saw nothing in the street, and knew he’d lost all he’d had.

Otis – the “son of Otto”.  Schubert’s rendering of the poem into song is eight stanzas, so this is the son of that eight.

 
     slash satal
 
Still here...   
04:34pm 28/02/2009
 
mood: contemplative
I never write here, do I? I refuse to join the MySpace brigade, or any of the other primary web-connection areas. For some reason, I desperately value real human interaction. I know that the most significant mode of communication is over non-personal lines now, but I don't want to join in. I know that part of it is simply the need to stand apart in whatever way I can. However, some of it is the genuine horror of seeing flat, dead, quick-rather-than-significant communication as the single format. "LOL" is not actually the same as trying to yell loud enough with the next statement to be heard over the roar of laughter in your front room.

Recently, I had a pile (most appropriate word) of wonderful people in my house. My home has been host to groups that make me feel... full? Happy, in any case. Many people, some who've known each other forever, some who've never met each other before, all eating lasagna and laughing endlessly. We were gathered around a television, but rather than being a replacement, it was the background and occasionally spring-point for conversation. I had not realised how important that sense of chaotic connection was to me. Admittedly, some of the joy was in having three incredibly hot girls (PLUS my lover) all cuddled up to me, giggling, and squwooshing their squwooshy bits up against me, I won't lie. That made it especially nice. People were especially nice. Their enjoyment fueled mine.

And I wasn't the center (at least, I don't think), not in the way I usually am. I may have set the night in motion, but then could sit back and watch the interactions. I didn't have to struggle anymore.

I need more people that I love. I need to focus more outside of myself. I thought that, as I was in college, I needed to become more selfish, focusing only on what would propel me further. But I think, for my happiness, I need to give more to other people. I'm too much in my own head, and create for myself more stress that should be feasible. No more panic for a while, Sata, okay?

Now, concerns about art. Why has graphic art been confused with high art? That is, on one side, we have people exploring the functions of media and idea, and on the other side we have people using media to express story or intent. Call me asshole, but comic book art is generally not displayable beside Cezanne or Warhol even. The difference is in categorisation and in intent of piece. That isn't to say that no graphic art ever crosses over into high art. Only that this should be the exception, and that graphic art's purpose be maintained primarily at conveying a story or persuasive intent and, in the end, making a buck. Fine art, high art, whatever, is and should be more internal. Respect an object or effort for what it is and what it was created to be. Because someone can create the most amazing graphic does not mean they are comparable (I did not say "better" -- I'm talking about true comparability, apples to oranges style) to old Renaissance masters.

I am particularly talking about the DeviantArt crowd, the convention crowd, and even my own group's materials. The rampant self-importance among this crowd has made me seriously rethink my goals of creating a publishing company. I don't think I want to do Demon Fart Cabbage at this rate. Of course, what else am I going to do?

Also on art, I have been following this story: http://news.yahoo.com/nphotos/National-Press-Club-Shepard-Fairey/photo//090204/480/0045032f19d94d3caf545341a38b303c//s:/ap/20090204/ap_en_ot/obama_poster and http://www.oculture.com/2009/02/the_obama_hope_poster_the_new_copyright_controversy.html . Whatever happens in this will change our interpretation of art and legal standing of such for a damn long time, and the issue should have attention paid to it.

I have avoided my mid-term essay long enough. Incidentally, if anyone knows of a peer-reviewed article discussing the Eisenstein-style conflict present in the film Cet obscur objet du desir, I'd be very grateful for a hint.
 
      1 stab wound...slash satal
 
Remember, everyone: Katsucon!   
06:32pm 10/02/2009
  I'll be at Katsucon this weekend in Arlington, VA. Visit Katsucon's web site at http://www.katsucon.com. We'll be there as Demon Fart Cabbage, our first Katsucon show. Wish us luck, or even better, come and buy things from our table! People who mention this post will get a 10% discount!  
      6 stab wounds...slash satal
 
Good Omens Drabble   
12:09am 23/01/2009
 
mood: amused
Nevermind all the previous angst of the previous post. Here's a little Good Omens drabble that came from an email conversation with Kaysha, a convention friend for whom I'm creating Aziraphale and Crowley (plus Crawly) plushies.

First SightCollapse )
 
      7 stab wounds...slash satal
 
Hope.   
01:23pm 22/01/2009
 
mood: distressed
The past eight years I have spent in numb, dumb stupor. The first election I participated in was 2000, the first tyranny of Bush.

I remember being incredibly idealistic. In that time, I framed my ideology on peaceable anarchy. I thought that most humans were at their core kind and good, willing to work together and made decisions that, based on all information, would benefit them.

Since that time, I've come to think of most humans as unworthy of life, best off if dead or never born. I feel intense hatred for most people upon meeting them. I can't find in myself a reason to care about anyone except those in my immediate circle.

This is incredibly upsetting, mostly because I've always wanted to be a knight who can care and strive and save the good but weak. And I can't do that if I hate.

Of course, neither do I feel that I can make any kind of significant dent in the world. Most worthy members of history have already by 23 started. And I am just a mediocre student in a mediocre college.

Here's a thought that I've been dicking about with in my head. For the past long while, I've had to be very careful about creating a front to present to others. Since I was taken out of school, pretty much. Then, I had to act non-crazy to prove I wouldn't bring a gun to school and kill everyone. Then I was in my grandmother's clutches. Then I spent a semester in college, and was trying to impress everyone whilst hiding in my room... Then, and then... and then... At Virginia Tech, I had to remain employable, and then two years again under my grandmother's thumb. I've forgotten a lot of what might be called a "natural" me.

I don't know who to be right now. I don't have an identity, or an archetype, to cling to.

Maybe my earlier pleas for a queen were really a cry for... instruction?

Who am I? What do I care about?

I'm hopeful, though. I'm hopeful that maybe a world change will help. Maybe and outside-in approach is more necessary.
 
      2 stab wounds...slash satal
 
Make Foundation happen   
05:40pm 07/12/2008
 
mood: charitable
Wikipedia Affiliate Button

It's exam time, and I find myself coming back again and again to Wikipedia. It may not be a formal resource, but it's like having a less farty senile old uncle who knows where to get the good information, or helps reshape your research question.

Please donate, even if only a couple bucks (I gave $5), as a gesture of what you want in the world. Here is an easily updated object that can be easily referenced, doesn't take up a lot of desk space, and is otherwise, well, invaluable. Oh yes, and also has great entertainment value!

Issac Asimov would have been very proud to see Foundation actually happening, I think. Me, I'm hoping one day every article can be read aloud by Majel Barrett, and I can just say, "Computer, cross-reference David Bowie with the Hezbollah" and get the perfect answer to whatever my question was in four seconds.

All right, pimping over. Back to the exam studying thing.
 
      3 stab wounds...slash satal
 
Thoughts on Creating Characters for Writing   
05:34pm 30/11/2008
 
mood: creative
I find myself enthralled with two-dimensional, symbolic characters. Throughout my education, the two-dimensional character has been an object of derision as incomplete, stock, imitative, or otherwise faulty. Only the domain of comic books. But I find them a treasured resource -- a series of idealised concepts with voice and structure. Admittedly, I like my bad guys to have a reason (even if only sheer greed) aside from evilness alone. Unles, of course, the villain is an embodiment of vileness. Perhaps a vicious demon? Maybe what I love are 2.6-dimensional creatures prancing across my story page. There is a bit of depth beyond a single characteristic. But everything about the character may be driven by that part in some way. Reducable characters. Foldable characters? In any case, it's as Gaiman wrote in American Gods Each person has a tune, a song that marches them along. May my paladins have joyous and righteous marches, my intellectuals have music with tick tocks and curious fiddles, and my adventures be scored by John Williams with an orchestra made up entirely of trumpets.
 
     slash satal
 
A Good Day to Live   
03:35pm 06/11/2008
  The world can breathe a little easier.  Thank you, Mr. Obama.  I look forward to January 20th.

Nine Inch Nails was an incredible act, a religious experience.  And three-quarters through the show, he stopped introduced the band, and said something along the lines of, "Even though tonight has been incredible, there's no way to follow up the excitement from last night.  Looks like I'm going to have trouble thinking of things to write about now.  I've used anger and pain as a source of inspiration all this time..."

Unbelievable.  Also, I got to be on the radio!  After the show, Haley and I went to WNRN (totally cool public rock radio station in Charlottesville).  A cool hip-hop show called Boombox was on, and DJ Illustrious hd me come on and do a "shout out."  For about three or four minutes, he mini-interviewed me about the show, about Obama, and I had a very fun time.  ::grin::  DJ Illustrious called me pretty on the air.  ::big goofy grin::

Anyway, gotta finish up for DFC.  Nekocon tomorrow!  If you' re there, come see the Demon Fart Cabbage boothe!  We've got incredible stuff this time, and the fabulous Yayoi Neko (mangaka of Incubus, and the artist whose art I've stolen to make my new favourite LJ avatar).  Come see us!  Buy our stuf!
 
      1 stab wound...slash satal
 
C'mon, c'mon, let's make VA blue!   
08:34pm 04/11/2008
  Could we really be a blue state?

Let's keep a good eye on it!

And totally hooray for free-Krispy-Kreme-for-doing-civic-duty.  I love donuts for voting!
 
      2 stab wounds...slash satal
 
HOLY SHIT NIN!   
12:13am 03/11/2008
  I get to go see Nine Inch Nails!

We were listening to the goth show on WNRN and competed for the ninth caller spot.  Haley got it, and she's taking me!  HOLY SHIT!

Between us, we got call-ins numbers 1,3,4,5,6,7,8, and, of course, 9.  Meaning only number 2 wasn't ours

Wednesday.  NIN.  I'm there.
 
      2 stab wounds...slash satal
 
   
07:01pm 12/10/2008
 
mood: horny
I read a poem recently on sweetprince 's journal...  And it hit incredibly hard.

Self-reflection... a little less emo than usual (I hope).Collapse )

Somewhat related to this:  Watched the film Enchanted last night.  Sent me to a deep dark hell place.  Hate this.  Lots.  Movie made me mad.

 
      2 stab wounds...slash satal
 
Damn you, industrial grade handsoap   
03:32pm 08/10/2008
 
mood: intimidated
I do not want my hands to smell of lilac
Nor do I desire your lotion soft
My hands need not slip over each other
Under water; instead,
What I want is rough, hard soap
To scrape this slough from my fingers.
Instead, you give me this:
Lilac slime, gooey fingers
How I despise thee,
Industrial grade hand soap
 
      3 stab wounds...slash satal
 
Why Sata has been a) mopey, b) absent, c) (insert complaint here)   
09:34pm 03/10/2008
 
mood: contemplative
Mostly, right now I'm excited about my new icon.  I made it off of one of Yayoi Neko's artworks, one my my favourites.  In general, I love Yaoi Neko's work.  She is masterful in terms of anatomy and elegance, and versed in Perfect Touch of Humour (tm).  She's taught me how to appreciate male-like men (as opposed to pretty boys only), and where to see a differently nuanced aesthetic.  I remember when devilkitten1 first brought home a copy of Incubus.  I was only marginally enthused, as I was a newbie to manga/anime.  I simply didn't understand what had been presented to me.  Now, she's one of my all time favourite manga-kas.

Um, heh.  Went on a bit of a rant.  But really, she's awesome!

I have not posted here in a long time, because I have NO T IME.  Right now, I'm off of work (for once), and therefore LJ is the first thing to get the nix.  I've been checking daily, though, to make sure that none of my friends have any life-threatening disastors.

Thus far, no one's in trouble, are they?  Ok, good.

Had a bit of a freakout this past week.  My bank account is about to be emptied because my roommates have run into monetary difficulties.  Absorbing two rounds of rent is kind of painful (not to mention terrifying, with the constant threat of bank failure).  We also had a power bill over $330.  Such a huge bill made me more than stressed.

In addition to this, I also calculated my free time.  Here's how it works out:

There are 168 hours in a seven-day week.168
I am in class 15 hours.-15
General guidelines say I should study 3 hours for every hour in class: 45-45
I work 15 hours a week, at least-15
I'd like to sleep 8 hours a day: 56-56
I'd like three meals a day, allocating an hour per meal for procurement and eating: 21-21
I commute to school, an hour a day min, but sometimes more: 7-7
Grand total remainder9

That's right.  Nine hours.  I did have it worked up to 5 hours left over a week at one point.  I can't remember, though, off the top of my head, what the other four went for.  ::shrugs::

So there's some stress and panic in this corner.

I'e not been working very much on DFC at all.  I'm getting a bit nervous about Nekocon.  Not for any real reason -- after all, just a bit of portfolio tweaking should be all I'm doing, since Otakon was such a bust.  Our stock is still in great shape.  I'm still in awe, however, that Otakon was such a bust.

School, additionally, is not going well.  You see, I decided to be a mathematics major because I was one of the only kids who could actually get the materal.  However, when I was admitted to VCU, I applied to the Honors College.  Since my last round of college at VCU was... well... GPA 2.73, if you get my meaning... I was readmitted to the Honors College on probation, with the understanding that I make all A's on 15 credits a semester.  Pshew.  I don't know if that's going to be possible.  I was freaking out about not being able to achieve as much as I wanted.

The stress has been making Cat and me fight.  A lot.  It sucks.  A lot.  We're okay?  I think?  But I get bitchy, and Cat gets aggressive, and everything sucks for a little while.

Roommates, messy house, money worries, scholastic worries, mate trouble....

And on top of it all, the fear and nagging pain of redefining myself.

I've long considered myself a paladin -- wanting to serve, to foster goodness, to do battle with evil, to protect and save and inspire, to heal and cure.

I wanted to be strong and intelligent and capable.

I find myself not so much.

My greatest fear in all life is this:  to be the guy with the not-quite-drawn in features in the background of the comic panel, right before the superhero stealthily swoops in to save the day... and I know nothing about it.

I want to have a face.

I'd really like to have armour, or at least a costume.  I WANT TO BE SIGNIFICANT GODDAMNIT!  But I can't prove myself worthy, even in the smallest measure.  I have become utterly mediocre in terms of scholastics (realised that I am NOT a genius, after all; just a bit bright), I am not mighty (I couldn't even haul a cabinet up a set of stairs -- admittedly, it was huge, and the stairs were rickety... but the other two people involved did manage), and I am not The Leader, as I had so long thought of myself.

The immediate misery and emo-shit has moved on a little bit, but the darkness is still there.  I want to perhaps get counselling, but two things prevent me:  Time (as you might have noticed) and desire.  The desire springs from the fact that I know this is self-indulgent bullshit, and I don't want to have someone else just telling me that.  I should just be able to pull myself out of this, allow that I am never going to match my desires, hopes, and standards, and go on with life as an (GULP) average, normal person.

Those words bring me to tears.

So, what can I do with myself to make myself most useful in the world?  Since I've established that I can't save the world (being too weak and un-mighty), what can I do instead?

All right, enough of the mope-mope-mope.

I'm going to try to work my hardest nonetheless.  Even though I'm terrified and can clearly see before me failure, I'll be working as hard as I can to prevent that.  I've been preparing notes for study.  Hard, hard study.  Writing further is simply avoiding it.

But why do I feel the constant press of uselessness upon me?  Will I forever be doomed to hope for better while I fail in all areas?
 
      4 stab wounds...slash satal
 
This paladin's helmet is off   
12:30pm 13/09/2008
  Not moping needlessly.

But I'm tired.

Spear down, helmet off.

For now, I don't care about saving the world.
 
      3 stab wounds...slash satal
 
   
11:52am 13/09/2008
  Bwahahahahah!!!!

Being at college again, I'm surrounded by the brave fellows who want to change the world, are interested and involved in politics, andhave researched ways to beat down opposition in debate.

However, this is about my level of political awareness right now.  But it's a good level.

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All right, back to homework.  No, really.
 
      2 stab wounds...slash satal
 
Self-pitying doom.   
08:24pm 01/09/2008
 
mood: depressed
Looks like I actually am a dumbass.

Frustrated math rantCollapse )
Fucking identities.  I don't like dealing with bipolar people, and I don't like dealing with bipolar equations.

Also, went to a bra shop today.  My first time going to such a place.

Did you even know there was a cup size called J?  There is.  And it's me.  This is a boutique specialising in difficult sizes.  And they didn't have my size in a bra that dealt well with my shape.  I feel like the ugliest, dumbest thing in the world.

Making this even worse is the fact that weird guys keep kind of hitting on me.

Now I know that it seems a litte backwards:  I get hit on, therefore I feel ugly and freakish.  But here's how the logic goes.

LogicCollapse )
I feel gross.  At lesat Cat always makes me feel special.

We went on a beautiful date last night to a high class hibachi and sushi place.  I got to play with my pitiful Japanese, but everyone smiled when I tried, so maybe it was appreciated.  Or maybe I was at least an amusing gaijin.

Oh!  Good news!  Did you know there was a collected Harley Quinn book?  Did you know she had her own comic?  In any case, the book I found is called (fun for Sandman fans) "Preludes and Knock-Knock Jokes."  ::snicker::
Isn't she beautiful?

All right, now for a list of the things I am happy about.

Cat and I are now FINALLY in the clear monetarily.  To whom do I owe money?  Now's the time to remind me!

I got to go on a book shopping spree recently.  A few treasures:  I've finally bougt Sandman (all but two vlumes), some manga, and a few novels.  Also a lot of novels that have been missing from my collection (Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of Nimh, for one) are now waiting to be shelved.

I am thrilled to be in a community where I can be openly in love with someone of the same gender as myself.  Where it's neither freaky or awful to be gay.  I've never, in fact, been more thrilled to be in love with Cat.

In general, I've been feeling goo-ily lovey-dovey about Cat lately.  Maybe it's the wedding... which may have to be postponed on account of Mark having a premonition.  ::sigh::  Never announce a date before the invitations are sent!

Good music.  I am so thrilled to hear good music.

I'm happy to have a few things on the walls now.  I really missed artwork up.

All right, that should be enough to keep the angst/depression at bay for a bit.
 
 
      5 stab wounds...slash satal
 
Classes!   
09:41am 21/08/2008
 
mood: accomplished
In twenty minutes, I leave for my first day of classes!  Woo-hooo!

Since last posting, the clan has successfully moved to Richmond, VA.  I have acquired a job at a Barnes & Nobel with a KILLER discount that made all my books only $400.

Cat and I are pretty happy.  We're no longer under the Granny C'Thullu thumb, which is nice.  I've even started reading again (things other than graphic novels, that is).  I hadn't been able to complete a book while living in Marion -- two years, no books for Satal.

All right, have started a torrent up for 9 O'Clock Woman (sweet-looking hentai), and am now off for school!
 
      8 stab wounds...slash satal
 
Meme. Sorry   
10:21pm 23/07/2008
  1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me" or something of an equally pithy nature.
2. I will respond by asking you 5 questions of a very personal nature. Be warned!
3. You will update your LJ with the answers to the questions, or there will be trouble.
4. You will include this and an offer to interview someone else in the post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them 5 questions.

Ready..... GO!

1. Have you traded in the metal bowl on your head for "real paladin headgear" or are you still willing to dream the impossible dream?

Waffling.  About to give up.  About to let the Knight of Mirrors shatter my world and give in to reality.

2. How excited are you that we get to be roomies?

Nervous, actually.  It is a small apartment, and I've never lived with you so I have no idea what to expect, or how to behave.  The other three of us have lived together for a while, and kinda know how to interact with one another.

Also, I'm worried that we'll be too much for you.  Mostly, though, that's just because Cat and I just had a huge fight, and I'm terrified that you'll see that.  I still want to keep up appearances in front of you, and that will be impossible with you living there.

And ALSO... I don't know what you eat.

But yes, there's a bit of excitement, if for no other reason than I'll finally get to see you again after far too long.  Hell, I've seen California-Becky since I've seen you.

3. Yiff?

Completely fed up with furries lately.  But there's still something so sexy about furry art!  Dammit, why do they all have to be fruitcakes full of drama?

4. What has 5 legs, wings, appendages, purrs, nibbles, and is oddly cute as hell because of its diminuative size?

...er, a floating devilkitten who wants a snack?

5. When's the next con for Demon Cabbage Fart?

First up is mega:  Otakon (August 8-10).  The next is Nekocon (November 7-9).

.......................................::shnooo::
 
      5 stab wounds...slash satal
 
Otakon? Where did you come from?   
08:22pm 02/07/2008
 
mood: aggravated
Go look at Chobie Studios, because they are gods who let us tackle their Artist Alley tables at Otakon.

DFC is going to Otakon.

Holy shit.

I'm very excited about it, but tired as hell.  I have a month to get ready to move AND get ready for freakin' Otakon.

And what do I do to relax?  Look at the m4m board on craigslist for pretty boys with nice cocks.  ::sighs::  I'm so lame.
 
      3 stab wounds...slash satal
 
I want a Maid Guy badge!   
08:33pm 12/06/2008
 
mood: itchy
You WILL watch Kamen no Maid Guy.  Get the torrents.  Deirdre, you especially.  You cannot live without this show.

Why?  Because:



It's the story of two siblings who, through mysterious circumstances, are saddled with two maids.  One of these maids is Maid Guy!  Kogarashi is Miad Guy, a super maid with bulging muscles, shark teeth, 37 senses, and a frilly mask!

I am totally making Maid Guy badges for the next convention.  I don't care if no one gets it -- I needs must have Maid Guy badges!
 
      2 stab wounds...slash satal
 
Animazement 2008   
02:56pm 29/05/2008
  Holy mother of all that is holy and crap holy crap! Animazement was more fun than I can possibly condense into pretentious text.

We arrived for the Thursday pre-con, which was wonderfully chill-out fun. Got to see Sketch-y and her crew -- our pals from Nekocon. We went ahead and set up the table, which is now bright, shiny, and banner-ful. Yay for Thursday, because we actually went to BED that night.

Staying at a hotel away from the convention kinda sucks, but we dealt with it all right.

Some of the highlights of the con included, but were not limited to:

  • The "BELIEVE IT!" Narutos
  • The Beer Gladiators
  • The Steampunk People of Hotness
  • People Willing to Wear Amaterasu (Okami) Costumes at a Sweltercon
  • MAKING A SHITTON OF MONEH!
I'm so very pleased.

In any case, some pictures of the DFC's voyage to Animazement are posted here:

http://www.logomancy.net/gallery/main.php/v/dfcgallery/Animazement+2008/



DFC loves you Animazement, and has already signed up for next year.
 
      7 stab wounds...slash satal
 
Meme post.   
01:59am 20/05/2008
  I don't usually go in for memes, but here's one I like:

1. grab the nearest book.
2. open the book to page 23.
3. find the fifth sentence.
4. post the text of the next three sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. don't you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! i know you were thinking about it! just pick up whatever is closest.

I'm thrilled right now for two main reasons:

Animazement is in two days

and

I just got an email from Monique! Monique is the first person I told about being gay. I've missed her so much! And here she is! I hope she keeps in touch!
 
      8 stab wounds...slash satal
 
Time capsule   
09:03pm 10/05/2008
 
mood: quixotic
Wow -- I just took a peek at my user info because random, interesting someone friended me. I wanted to see what random people who friend me might read.

EMO.

I never quite realise how much an emo brat I am until I read past writing.

A while ago, I was digging through some refuse of the past and found my journals from Teenager Land. Reading through them, I realised what a douche I am at times. I used to be an insanely uptight freak of a person. I knew that already, but reading my own writing made me realise how very. Yeah, not understandable at all. Sorry.

So, I'm a dick. But I'm getting better.

/introspective

I love the 4chan /y/ board.
 
      3 stab wounds...slash satal
 
Ooo, goodies.   
12:33am 08/05/2008
 
mood: stressed
So, this is PayPal's competitor? I likey. I likey a lot. Now I just have to get others to use it. So far, reading through the fine print, I like it a LOT more than PayPal. Also, the sign up bonus is awesome. So, you sign up, you get $25 dollars and I get another $10. No strings, no weird shit. And I was able to transfer it into my bank account. Also, no fees for receiving OR sending money.

The only question, then, is how the hell do they make their money?

Refer A Friend using Revolution Money Exchange

I'm in the midst of exam season. It's been a rough one. Here's a quickie rundown of what's in my life:

Cat and I are doing couples counseling. I suppose that's a good thing. And Cat has been making concentrated efforts to not be a screaming howler monkey. It's great. Now we pretty much have discussions instead of screaming matches. That helps me, at least, a thousand times. While I know that Cat functions far more on emotion than I do (and sometimes it seems that I have no emotions at all), it still is helpful to hear information in a calm tone.

School is about to be over. Thank the gods. So grateful. I am starting to burn out a little. A little? A hell of a lot! The levels of DUM (sic) are too great to handle at times.

I finally let myself realise that Cat is never going to be quite as quick as me in matters like mathematics or the typically scholarly fields. It sounds silly, but for some reason this came as a huge blow. But I'm getting over it.

A crazy neighbour of my parents has threatened to kill the new puppies. Now they have to be fenced in all the time. Not because they were on his property -- rather, because they're SCARY. Puppies!

My mother's health has taken an ongoing turn for the worse. She has severe pain throughout her body and can't do anything about it. Since it's somatic in nature, painkillers in general don't do shit. So, instead, she drinks AND takes painkillers. She's quickly spiraling into alcoholism, which is terrifying. Throughout my life, she has been adamant in the dangers of drinking since I come from such a long line of alcoholics. So now, when I go over to her house unannounced, she is inevitably squiffed. Before a few weeks ago, I had never seen her even slightly tipsy in my life. She's now hiding her drinking habits from me, has taken wine in a cup on the road with her while driving, and even demanded more from me after falling over. It's terrifying. She passed out one day while cooking and nearly burned down the house. As it was, her birthday presents on May 1st were new cookware to replace the burned up pots.

Upsetting.

And then there's the grandmother. She's evil. I'm rarely believed. Even if you do believe me, she's more awful a creature than you can realise.

Finishing up reorganising for Demon Fart Cabbage. I really need to go pester Andrew. I'm thinking he will never actually be a good webmaster. Not because he's technically bad -- simply that he doesn't care. ::shrug:: I don't suppose it's his responsibility. But I need to take care of it so I don't keep referring people to a dead web site.

However, I'm otherwise happy about all we've done with DFC. I hope that soon I'll be able to post awesome pictures of stuff. We've now got a grab-bag idea under way with mini-plushies. It's damn cute. There will also be short comics in origami shapes available. Kick that! I also got ALL THE PRINTS DONE. And cheaply! We decided to lower our prices, too. After Nekocon, we realised we were waaaay too expensive. So, I am excited about Animazement.

At Amnimazement, we will have a plushie-making panel as well! Cool, hunh?

Endless ramble, no substance. Want to write a lot. Too tired and exam tomorrow. ::over dramatic sigh::
 
      6 stab wounds...slash satal