Pick-a-peck-of-pickled-Poker

The World of Tomorrow

It's a whole mess of scary, exciting, and brokeness on the horizon as I realized that I graduate in December. Real life, rather than this silly college variant, is just around the bend and I still don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing. If I do go back for my master's, I need a year-off from school to cool down. Period. After 18 straight years of school, I could use a definite break.

The thought of moving away and chasing after something I want to do is frightening, dashes my hopes, and leaves me thinking I'm not good enough at whatever it is I want to do, be it writing, music, or acting.

..but that fear means I really want to do it, so that's a start. Ideally, that drive will be enough for me to overcome said fear if that's the case.

...or I could crash in a flaming-fucking-wreck, but at least it'll be a fun ride down.

Minority

I, too, enjoy a taco.

Girl Scouts

To any of you who read this, give me input; too far? If so, fantastic.

Pikafessor

If this would work, it would already be happening.

Caba-great!

"Presentation is half the battle... and, my dear, I specialize in massacres."

After completing my senior thesis on National Socialism Propaganda and its public sentiment during the era, I decided to tackle another decidedly German topic for what may quite possibly be my final 10 page college paper ever: German cabaret under the Nazi regime. It should be an entertaining deviation from other individuals' paper topics. I'm hoping to win the most sextastically-political essay award... should KU invent such a thing within the next few weeks.

To my artistic side; please be patient with me until I've finished this final scholarly work. I promise I'll pick you back up and make use of the microphone I bought specifically for you. I'll take you more inspirational places once the semester's over, too.

To Colorado; my ass is visiting whether you like it or not, along with the rest of me. See above.

Pints

Life seeks balance. Blood donors would know this.

Blood Money

Fact: Donating blood/plasma makes one more awesome.

Donating Blood Isn't For Everyone...

For all you survival-horror gamers...

20 Million Kids are Eaten by Bats Every Second.

No matter how long is given for emotional wounds to heal, they'll always have their scar; that little, pesky reminder of the pain that was once there. More often than not though, that pain hasn't become a scar yet. It's nothing but a scab of a wound that's easily torn back open. After it's open, you do your damnedest to get it to heal right the next time. Enough analogy, though, because now it's starting to sound like an emo kid ranting with a razor.

I think I can feel my life force (my Chi, if you will) draining through my feet to the ground. Kansas is trying to devour me with its blahness.

Catharsis is a good word. I'm searching for mine.

Peligro!

I swear, this has to have happened somewhere at least once.

Yah, Mon!

So, when it's a Friday night in Lawrence and Kansas is playing a must-win basketball game, what do two individuals uninterested in university sports do? When it's Mr. Casey and myself, the answer is clear: throw a midnight Jamaican barbeque. After a quick supplies run, festivities ensued. We chewed on sugar canes, grilled Caribbean Jerk chicken with fresh pineapple slices, and finished it all off with Reggae, accents, and Red Stripe.

So, KU lost. Many a bar was assuredly full of disgruntled fans. In one apartment, however, vibes were good and warm, like a fresh island breeze.

When in doubt, act like a Jamaican.

Spring Break

My break wasn't THIS exciting, but still good.

In other news, the Professor (my fluffy feline friend) just happened to mistake my glasses for a cat-toy. They are now lopsided... I like to think they will provide me with a different perspective on life.

Colorado-si-do

There's something about Colorado. Whatever happens out there, whenever I leave I'm inspired and galvanized to do something with myself. It's like the mountains have a little piece of Life I can only find in their vicinity. They stand ever-present over Denver and Boulder as if to say, "Hey. How's it goin'? Don't worry, we got your back." Thanks, Rockies. Anyways, it's a feeling that I don't get anywhere else I've traveled. It's an energy that permeates the body and soul, quiets my mind, and lessens the stress of living.

Maybe it's just some sorta lack-of-oxygen-high from the thin air.

For Every Swell, There is a Crash

St. Patrick's day was a blast.

Dennis the Mad Law Student visited, and the two of us paraded down Mass St. with two rifuckingdiculously big turkey legs. After proceeding to get drunk at a Mexican restaurant (turkey legs still in tow), we visited the video store with his girlfriend and, of course, dive-bombed the porn section in what I'm sure must have been a drunken, hilarious scene. Afterwards, I climbed the balcony upstairs into the show apartment and used its facilities... thrice. Enter Nikki el DJ and Rock Band until 5 in the morning.

...then Wednesday unleashed its vengeance.

My laptop's charger fried itself, along with one of my USB ports busting. I bit the bullet and bought a new one. I took my vehicle in for new brake pads and was bent over to pay for new rotors and the like as well. Needless to say, not cheap. After leaving the shop (and them closing for the day), I hear the same beautiful grinding sound from my car's spinning tire parts. How lovely.

But that all changes tonight, since I'm mountain-bound and I refuse to let even my aching ankle break my spirit. I'll find my optimism in the bottom of a flask or coffeecup... whatever comes first.

Home Owner's Assurance

My sister just started moving into a new house with her boyfriend. The two of them own the rather-large abode and are in the midst of remodeling it. We're talking a 3 bedroom, 2.5 bathroom, full basement, 2 car garage building that could eat 2 of my apartments and then still be hungry. Seeing her and her boyfriend gather up pieces of social expectations and fit them into their lives in such a way makes me proud, but also makes me ponder what the hell I'm doing with my life. My sibling 2 years younger seems to have her stuff together... but when I get down to it, I don't think a house is really my thing. Not yet, at least; I still want to travel without aim, visit the big cities, and NOT have to worry about house payments. The trouble is finding someone as willing to wander around aimlessly to share that intimately with. Regardless, my little sister's doin' well.

In other news, Mountain Dew and Tequila make for a fair method of shaking off sobriety.

Nerdy

Jack's heart breaks a little.

I've proven my fair share of testosterone today and successfully grilled some burgers. There was a pillar of fire involved, but such is the essence of man... fire, football, and red meat. 2 outta 3 isn't bad.

In other news, my professor asked us to use a number 2 pencil and write our student ID numbers on our Voltron answer sheets.

...I only wish it wasn't a word slip.

The Theorem of Douchebaggery

Ladies... take a note.

A Very Vehicular Kind of Day

You know that hand-signal that bikers give when they drive by one another? The one where they point their fist towards the ground by the passing motorcycle, as if to say, "Yo, man. Check out the back of my hand. Sweet, ain't it?" I've always wanted to be a part of that, but I have no plans on going 75mph on a metal horse... as badass as that would be. Hopefully, they'll accept my greetings when I start my own moped gang.

When I was getting my car fixed today, a friendly guy started talking to me about life; his life, my life, what I wanted to do with it, and important things to learn along the way. He talked of his own day-to-day routine and I realized the kind of life I want won't have an anchor attached to it like so many other people... and then I got the bill for car repairs. It's a good thing I have a huge jar of change for emergencies.

New tires, new oil, and a bit of spare cash... looks like I'm getting outta Wheat State for Spring Break. It'd only get better if I was Colorado-bound as part of my apocalyptic moped gang.

Another Day, Another Deadline...

My comic deadline is tomorrow by 3pm and I've no scanner to use. This causes me to cut and paste panels and create original dialogue, also known as what I like to call "spontaneous lazy-ass creativity."

What I wouldn't give to be living somewhere else in a rundown apartment, squeaking by through my own creativity. Preferably, there'd be an elderly Jewish couple living above me, whom I would befriend and eat latkes with once a month. I'd spend my days in my Productivity Corner and work on a given script or book, spend some free-time auditioning for roles, and relaxing over a drink or two with my wacky ensemble of compadres. And yes, I may have been contemplating about this for a while now.

Food network is having a Throwdown on sushi right now and I'm drooling.

...I hate you, Food network.

Dentist

You've gotta love getting a filling.

So, I'm locked into a lease until August of 2010. Hello, another year of Kansas. I was a little concerned that I may actually get away from your boring social scene and schizophrenic weather patterns; who would want to do that?

That places my master plan just another step out of my reach. While I can't reveal too many details of this scheme, I'll give you a hint. One word: alpacas.

Unlike an alpaca wonderland, the real world's bleak. CNN is more often than not nothing more than a depressant broadcast digitally. Politicians bicker, Final Exit helps put magic black bags on suicidal individuals, and Mexico is in a cagefight with a bunch of drug cartels.

My Mexican side is crying a little bit.

Patrick

The economy affects everyone... even pirates.

It's funny how I started this out of boredom and then immediately became busy with the usual annoyances of life. Hopefully, I won't suck and update this every other week if I plan on continuing it.

For those readers not aware of it, I'm currently drawing a comic strip for the University Daily Kansan, the school newspaper of KU. I named it Writer's Block Party, after a song I wrote once, and keep submitting scratches and quips for a small chunk of change (see previous entry). Anyways, I became aware of my first fan outside of my actual friends today. Good feeling, considering I didn't have to pay this person to respond in a positive manner. I'll probably upload my strip here, since certain networking sites seem to get pretty possessive when it comes to user-submitted material.

Let me know what you think about my imagining of talking cats with PhDs and alcoholic power-ups.

The Bottle

In the beginning, there was darkness... then a lightswitch.

How many things in this world have been created out of pure, unadulterated boredom? I believe recent scientific measurements have calculated the amount of time-killing bastard children to be 1.7 kajillion units... plus 1.

That lonely numerical is this blog, created solely as a means of allowing a mind with the creative direction and focus of a fractured fire hose nozzle to escape the mundane world of reality and enter cyberspace... to most likely comment on the mundane world of reality. It's also a curiosity of mine to discover how wide an audience that a blog can actually spread to- whether it runs rampant like some sort of crazed monkey-virus outbreak or if its no more infectious than the smelly kid with cooties.

Hello, e-world.