Changes.

A lot has been changing. A lot of change is still to come. I'm not sure how to feel about all of it.
Excited and worried has been the normal for me for the past weeks - I know that I leave in less than a week, and poor Leigh has been crying, wetting her pretty face over my impending absence. But I know it's also only eight weeks of my career, and I know I cannot fail: I can only learn, and move forward for Leigh's sake, so that I have something to offer her beyond my eight-dollars an hour.

$139 every other week just isn't enough to support her. Or anyone, for that matter.

Perhaps it's enough to buy groceries. But not enough for a home. For a vehicle. For a life.

I've just got to rise to the occasion to be stable.

As frightening as it is, and as stressful as I know it will be, I've been trying to prepare.
I know how to fold my shirts. I know my ranks up to MCPON, and a few of the other important ones, like Commander and Captain. I could do better to study them more, but I don't really have an accurate place to.
The Internet gives me a lot of conflicting and extraneous information. I just need a list of my Enlisted Ranks.
I can probably figure out how to fold Pants in bootcamp. I know Socks and Skivvies are a whole 'nother ballpark, and that you've got to stencil your identifier onto it, and bobby pin them.

You know what? After typing that, it seems kind of overwhelming.

I'm just going to take it a step at a time and do what's assigned as it's assigned.

No need to make myself sick.

I've been exchanging a lot of music with Leigh. A whole lot.
I've not felt so comfortable passing music to someone since probably 9chen's hayday.
I used to be something of a presence there with a daily-updated music thread where I showcased my pile of Techno and such. It feels really good to have someone like your music. The most recent gem was DJ Clonepa's "UH OH, WITCH FIGHT," which holds a special place as the first song I'd listened to so often that I'd gotten tired of hearing it. She absolutely loved it, and even better, followed it up with a Touhou Rhythm Festival track that is just to die for. I've been whistling it all morning like an utter nerd, and listening to her copy of "Too Long / Steam Machine" by Daft Punk, which is pretty bitchin'. I encourage you to pick it up if you've never heard it. It's aptly named as it builds pace gradually, becoming more awesome by the second.

I'm sorry I haven't updated in forever. I'm sure I've lost a few curious eyes.

There's just been a lot of tumult in my life.

A lot going on.

A lot changing, as I'd said.

And as much as I'd hate to admit it, I've just had to put this sort of thing on the backburner to be with Leigh and get my shit done at the same time.

That's a priority though.

I'm prioritizing.

I'm prioritizing everywhere.

Maybe I'll add more to this.

Right now, there's something I have to do. 

Have some art.

In Which I Explain My Owwies.

Alright, so I've got some owwies, yo.
Owwies are instances or additions that warrant the onomatopoeic response, "Ow!" when encountered.
I'm gon' be talkin' about some of mine, some of Saint Lafayette's, and-

Actually, give me a moment. I have to report a small flood to my supervisor at Rudbeckia Enterprises.
It was bad enough to bust out some of our tiles and stop one of our lights from working.

FFFFF-Shit. I'll finish this later. I've got to go carry down some paint. In the rain.
And like...

Bluh.

Ignore the picture, I'll explain it later.

Damn, I lied and got busy.
More over, I slept at 8:30. God, I think I'm getting sick or something.
Either that, or I'm working way too hard.
Lending credence to the second theory, be right back, I'm going to the Gym.

Armless Introductions.

Hey. It's been awhile. I've been really busy.

Really, really, really, unspeakably busy.

Usually, I have a single hour of GetAmped 2 at 5:00 AM, but not anymore.

Had to pick up paint, tape, rollers, and such at 5:20 AM.

Or 0520. I've gotta get used to this twenty-four hour clock stuff.

I usually get a single hour of GetAmped 2 at 0500, but

I've been so busy, I've skipped that for like, two weeks now.

My Grandmother officially passed-away. It wasn't particularly quick. After dialysis for her renal failure was hindered by her more or less non-working heart, we'd realized the options weren't there. She was starting to lose her mental faculties quickly, and we'd opted to pull the plug. I guess everyone had gathered 'round,

and my Grandfather, Charles, said, "Honey, we've unplugged you. If you feel like you need to go, please do."

She looked right at him and said, "Don't rush me!" 

It's just like her to have done so. 

I've been officially added to the Rudbeckia Enterprises payroll, so now I'm working while I await my shipdate. I'm more or less painting a whole lot. Today, after Church, I'm headed to a Storage Property to paint the walls and get it all prettied-up. I've also got to clean the hell out of the floors on account of the fact that I'll be applying a bonding epoxy to them later to make a respectable floor that isn't "paint on concrete" for the Office Area that goes in one of the rooms.

I'm making a nice sum on account of how much I've been working, but I'm going to save a good sum of it in case of emergency. I've been looking out for one of my close friends very well, and I'm worried about their home situation.

Which brings me to my next topic of why I've been so busy: I've been working to schedule employment and welfare in the meantime for them. It's been positively grueling. Between us, we've applied for forty jobs, mostly for seasonal retail. I did the mathematics last night and as a six-person household making a Net-Income of $1,066? They qualify for a solid $954 of benefits that might really, really help them. I think it's in Food and Medical. I'm alright with that, though. Any help is better than no help.

It's been a lot of paperwork, math, phone-tag, and doing my Navy Voice.

Graff once said I would get picked-on because I take the Navy far too seriously as a Recruit, but

as of late, my ability to say, "This is Seaman Recruit Harmeyer," has spared me a lot of red tape from uncooperative family members with trying to help my friend - Seaman Recruit Harmeyer sounds like an authority figure. Zack Harmeyer sounds like a douche with a cellphone.

All the same, it's been difficult. You get it.

I'd write more and tell you more about what's kept me away, but I'm about to be kept away.

After I attend Church, I've got to go attend to that Storage Property.

In closing, though, here's a doodle of Swing.

Swing recently purchased the Beast King style in GetAmped 2, which makes her stomp around all angry-like when she moves and rake people with her claws. It made me want to pixel-doodle, and when I did and I looked at it, I was reminded of one of those Homestuck Introductions for some reasons:

Your name is SWING.

You are the EMBODIMENT OF THE FALLEN ANGEL MARCHOSIAS.

You like SCARVES, DEVOURING PEOPLE, and DOMINATING YOUR UNFALLEN BRETHREN.

You are blind in one eye after someone JAMMED A FLAMING SWORD INTO IT.

HOLY ARTIFACTS BURN YOU and EMOTIONS CONFUSE YOU.

Your Pesterchum-handle is  unspoiledMonster.
...You tend to speak...with a powerful and...emphasizing delay...

>> Be the Petty Angelic.

The Best Kind of Angel.

I've been so busy, I haven't had a lot of time to just sit down and write a traditional post for a long while.
Hopefully I'll fix that right about now:

My grandmother's dying. The cool, spiritualist one. I'd like to say she'll be okay, or she's got a fighting chance, but it's gotten to the point where she's about vegetative. I told her I loved her and that I'm praying for her, but she could only groan in reply. And after a bit, she couldn't groan either. She's entered renal failure, which is pretty disastrous, and complications with her heart are making dialysis unsuccessful.

I prayed that she goes peacefully, and without any struggle. I know that sounds messed up,

but she's got this colossal octopus of I.V. in her that keep her alive, but only in the physical sense.

It's just no way to live.

My mother left to be with her. I've been teaching Children's Fitness at the church alone, as such. It hasn't been an utter calamity - I've found one game they're particularly fond of. When I was a little boy in grade-school, I thankfully had one of the more fun and innovative Gymteachers in the form of a man who's name I cannot remember but who looked suspiciously like Jason Bourne. It was a bit of a joke that when he took his glasses off, he turned into Jason Bourne, and then when he got Lasik Surgery, that he were Jason Bourne. All the same, I've been bumming games he'd used oh so long ago. One that they really liked was the Hula-Hoop Relay. Basically, in two teams, one person goes down with a hula-hoop. And when they get back, a team-mate grabs onto it too, and they go down and back.

The idea is for them to get their entire team clowncar'd on a hula-hoop, down and back, before the other team does the same. Kids? In a crowd? Competitively? They ate it up, and they were requesting encores.

Made me feel good. I was worried about doing it alone, but I figured if I'm going to assume a leadership position in Boot-Camp trying to get an advanced paygrade, I'm going to have to do a lot of crap alone, so I might as well not back-out and just teach classes like a champ.

 Oh god. I just got a call from filling out offers for Leigh. They sincerely just called and requested "Science-sempai" for a promotional offer. That's hilarious. Good lord.

Speaking of Leigh and science, here's a doodle. It's Swing. In her monstrous demonic hate-beast form.
She'd told me about a particularly grim roleplay she'd done where she'd visited a child in Church and proceeded to devour them after Big Bad Wolf'ing it a bit:

"Are you an angel, miss?"

"The best kind."

My first time drawing anything particularly "Furry" in nature. I'm kind of trying to branch out as of late. Leigh's been drawing a whole lot and I'm struggling to keep-up so I don't fall into awesomedebt.

Today's off to a good start. However, I've got a bit of a to-do list. I'm helping with some Airport Arrangements, and transferring one of Emily's perscriptions. I was supposed to speak with my Recruiting Officer, but I knocked that out pretty early and things are going swell. Moving right on down the line I've just got to go to the Gym.

Also, yesterday was Pyon's birthday. Hospital-Pyon. Crude In-Game Name Pyon. 

COOL PYON.

(You know the one.)

He's officially twenty-one, which means he can now die in wars, buy lottery tickets, smoke, AND drink!

I drew him a big wedge of cake on a postcard and mailed it to him.

Usually, I'd mail cookies but I'm a little bit tied up as of late financially.

Anyways. I'm going to go work out now.

Thank you for reading.

ↁ ヮ ↁ

It's been a long time since I've felt confident enough to sit back and make an Eraserdoodle. I've tried, and I've tried, and I've tried, and I've more or less erased a few portions of structure only to erase them and give up. This is why after all my planning, I haven't drawn Sabina's character Lazuli as much as I want to because of the pretty cool Back-and-Forth she and Birdgette had once upon a time.

I've been a bit of a wreck as of late.

I made a decision I'm still sort of struggling with.

I made Emily some chocolate roses, and then realized I could only fit two in a box as well, which makes me feel like a douche. Hell, mailing them seems like a bit of a Judas' Kiss. 

I don't know.

All the same, I did an Eraserdoodle for the first time in a long time.

Here's my friend, Swing. With her head-taking knife.

I encourage you to click it as it's quite large.

It's, more or less, my only full-body doodle so far.

Spacebuddhist

Yeah, I don't really know. 

I've been trying to draw pixelated things, as a lot of my favorite artists do.

I'm not particularly amazing at it.

I'm officially a Gym-Teacher for little Church-Kids.
Go-Go Yuugi-modo.
As I mentioned last time, I swear into the Navy soon.
Still in sort of a weird mood. I'm getting better though.
Gonna have a good day today, I know it.

Lonely.

I miss Ridgecrest...

When you have an ear infection they give you a set amount of antibiotic to totally curbstomp whatever's got you feeling under the weather. It's important to take EVERY SINGLE DOSE, even if you feel perfectly fine, because just because you don't feel it doesn't mean that STANK-NASTY BUG GERM ISN'T FESTERIN' IN YOUR HEAD. If you skip it, it comes back stronger for being struck down and you actually have to get a different antibiotic as it becomes a resistant strain and is evermore determined to wreck you.

I think I screwed myself and skipped a dosage regarding that nasty emotional cold I've been dealing with. I was feeling better and I shrugged it off and it came back with a vengeance. But BEING SAD REALLY IS A PRODUCT OF HOW YOU REACT TO THINGS! I handled it pretty badly yesterday night. I threw a little tantrum.

Not even a good tantrum. If you don't know me, I'm kind of indignant when I get angry and sad.

It winds up coming out a lot like This. Because I'm a bit of a push-over and I know myself well enough to know that I'll be fine in the morning, so I'm just like, "Well guys, I'm angry. I'll be okay though!"

 Today, I decided how I'd deal with it. I drew a picture of the mountains of Ridgecrest. I listened to some music I've never heard. I had a slice of Pizza Margherita. I cleaned up my shit. I took a break from GetAmped 2, and I mailed out the letter I wrote to Emily. 

The music by the by is pretty amazing. It's Chiptune. With vocals. Done by the talented Space Boyfriend. "Bug Spray" is a story-ballad about a boy from space chasing a little Earth girl. And their lovely WATERMELON-DATES and all sorts of HAPPY and SAD moments that follow. 

Kind of like MASS EFFECT WITHOUT GUNS AND NOTORIOUSLY POOR ENDINGS.

Please give Bug Spray a listen. It's really a heartwarming album for anyone who's nerdy and been in love.

Be sure to go in-order. The songs segue into each-other!

Anyways, my Navy stuff is finally squared-away. I swear-in next Thursday after another physical exam.

I'm not really sure how to feel. I'm in-love. I'm scared. I'm excited. I'm a lot of things.

I'M SCARED AND INSECURE, MY DEAR.

All the same, I'm excited to be doing something with myself. I'm actively working towards a better life. Towards a position from which I can help more people. Towards a happy and more-permanant look at those mountains I miss so much, and the person who lives beside them.

In conclusion, a ways back Liam, his squeeze Swing, and I had an intentionally over-the-top roleplay in the middle of Maid Army's Skype-chat. It's spawned a few in-jokes and kind of threatens to live on in infamy. There's some parts that are less funny because you don't hear us laughing over our microphones, but here's a Transcription of our terrible adventures in a WORLD OF PIZZA AND SEMEN.

Artbooks, Dark Souls, and Swagchirin.

The Navy is still processing my information - as of most recently, they'd requested an unneeded Doctor's Write-Up. Brown was pretty miffed about having her time wasted, and spent the entirety of my call saying, "I stamped 'Normal Physiology' on the front, what don't they get?" My Father, however, assures me that they are being intentionally slow about processing me to make certain I am the kind of person capable of wading through red tape. Thankfully, I wade through red tape quite casually. Just about every day in fact, so I should be passing that test quite readily.

Things are going kind of well. Emily's eagerly anticipating the release of Dark Souls on PC, and we've been fawning over people dishing out mad carnage with caestus, silly whips, and mad two-hander dead-angles. Money's going to be a little tight, but I'm hoping the Navy will finally get the lead out and I can give her the remainder of my cash before shipping-out where I won't need it. If I ever wind up Dark Soulsin', I'd love to wear the Maiden's Outfit and a pair of battle-mittens. And probably work for Gwyndolin. Because he's a violent religious trap, and they just don't make Good-Guys like that anymore. They're almost exclusively the generic villains now.

Also, Quelaan's pretty cool, too.

As Sabina put it, "I never thought I'd want to hug a spider."

I could stand to forgo Gwyndolin on a different character and do some Daughter of Chaosin'. Yeaaah, and I'd use that silly Summoner's Trident. And I'd Humpty-Hump my way to victory.

I've got plans with Dustin today - I'm hoping to write a firework scene. I wanted to write something that was really showy and neat, and had a lot of sensory information. That black gunk you get on your hands. The sulfur-smell of a dead firework. All the bright colors. The clouds of smoke that hang in the air afterwards. All the little paper casings that are left-over. That's a lot to write about. I hope it goes over well.

Tomorrow, I'm probably gonna skip lifting weights to go another stint in cardio and do a timed push-up and sit-up routine. I've yet to beat nine minutes and some change as my best time, but I can do ten minutes after walking the three miles one way there. However, I've been working my abs and legs, so I'm anticipating better time on account of being fitter.
I think I'm finally getting results for my abs. I came back from the shower in my boxers and an undershirt and my sister'd remarked, "I'm starting to be disturbed by the amount you're working out. I can see your abs through your shirt."

That's precisely the result I'm looking for beyond simply 

being able to manage the fitness circuits for the military.

If you hadn't read earlier, I'd shared my really terrible Touhou Raps on GetUmpt's community boards. I've considered posting them on Tumblr as well, and after my first post regarding them, I got a really delightful image from a stranger. Without further ado, I'd like to offer you a second helping of Swagchirin, courtesy of the lovely Plus1000Years:

Thank you so much. You have no idea how much I appreciate this silly stuff.

Talking with Rigel, I'd received a really wonderful album - the fourth installment in the HOSPITAL^ anthology. I'd considered buying the second installment for a very beautiful picture and some really curious music. I can afford it right now, but the solid quid I've got left is kind of saved for an emergency. When September comes around, I might treat myself to it. I really like it because it's an innovative idea:

HOSPITAL^ has more or less gotten a bunch of very skilled artists to draw amazing pictures depicting the mindset, emotion, idea, misconceptions, and other sensations of being interred in a hospital. These range from the atypical moeblob pictures to beautiful paintings and fullblown comics. Afterwards, they'd taken a bunch of very obscure but quite talented musicians and assigned them a picture to build a track around. So essentially, it's a pair of small artbooks that have a soundtrack for each picture contained.

When I was a kindergartener, my father had left a copy of Calvin and Hobbes on his work-desk and I'd begun reading it in secret. It was amazing. Prior to that, I'd read small stories but none in particular that really enticed me enough to read casually. It had pictures fulls of whimsical playing that I could relate to. It had silly depictions of things I was being taught in school. It had words I didn't understand like 'Tyranny', and things I loved like Spaceman Spiff and Tracer Bullet. I own a small few comics in paper. No real artbooks. But the concept behind owning them is quite the same. I really hope that someday, a child or person cracks it open, and it's unlike anything they've seen prior and they're changed a little - understood, inspired, entertained - I don't know. Just better off for having opened it up, like I was.

Anyways, I've got to go to the Gym and Church now. And after that, I've got to do my laundry and tidy-up.

My bed has been unmade for two days, I have a pile of gymclothes in the "I'll wash those later" corner, and after sorting my socks last night, I'd dumped them lazily on the floor. Kind of a busy morning, I suspect, but it'll be alright.

Also, I'd had an odd dream - I had kidnapped several people as advised by my father to collect ransoms off of them. They were nice people. A mother and her daughter. Some guy. They were sitting in the back of a covered truckbed. It was kind of dark. When I saw how worried they looked though, I thought "I can't do this - they're really good people, and I'm troubling them and stealing from their families," I tried to explain that my background check was in work for the Navy and that I couldn't afford to have it compromised because it were my only chance at respectable income in the day's economy. I pulled up to an apartment complex that the people lived in. I let them out and I apologized and requested they not turn me in and compromise my career. I abruptly woke up after this. It was an odd dream - apparently even in my subconscious I'm just not that great at being an utter villain.

First World Problems and Buddhist Swag.

There's just a few sensations quite like going to bed exhausted, knowing you've left a Torrent running and will get to listen to really slick music in the morning, only to wake up and realize your ISP is doing maintenance and has turned-off your connectivity, and so your torrent has capped out at two-percent. One that comes to mind is finding a respectable gift-box addressed to you only to find it contains a two day-old fart left by an amusing if not rancid hobo; you're initially sort of amused by the sheer chance of it lining up like that, but at the same time it's a pretty bad stink.

Things have been a little weird - as they never fail to be less - and I've been in a bit of a rut; a variation on that old Recipes for Life bit I'd given you some time ago that I'll introduce to you later.

Lately, my days have been concluding pretty early - at 9:00 or 9:30 PM depending on how hard I've worked-out and how much crap it's mandatory I do. That's also like, 6:00 PM for Emily, which makes it feel a good deal more outraging than it is at face-value to me.

It dawned upon me yesterday that there has not been a single day within the past two months where I have traveled less than six miles using muscular force. I usually do this from 12:00 to 3:00 or so.
For the first time in a long time my legs are pretty shot because I took two days to work them while letting an injured wrist rest on one day in between. My left hand's been really pained and sensitive every time I press it palm-first.

Typically, around 5:00 AM I play a few rounds of GetAmped2 with Liam and the Maid Army, but I don't see that lasting for too terribly much longer; I've just about maxed my little character there, at which point I don't think I'll see the appeal of just wailing on newbies without reward. I might make a new character or something, and just go about doing everything -right- this time around, now that I know what I'm doing, but I don't know. I really just don't.

Moreover there's been this massive cloud of interpersonal drama hovering around Maid Army as of late. And it's really unfortunate. I don't really know how to fix it, and I don't like the way its going. To put it in a nutshell, a really cool ex of mine is on rebound for a hemophiliac I bought a pizza for. It sounds really absurdist when said like that, but that's what's going on. Rebound-romances are almost exclusively pretty terrible, though, and while I'm trying to be a force of reason regarding it, if you've ever tried reasoning with someone whose slightly enticed and massively irate at the same time, you'll understand that I made very little headway whatsoever.

Speaking of interpersonal drama - that's another big part of my day. Usually around 3:00, I get onto Steam 'cause that's noon for Emily, and I've got a fairly good chance of seeing her around and chatting about silly things in Dark Souls, getting the Metaphysical Forecast, and just generally being happy and talking. The only problem with this is that the moment I get on, I wind up with a whole bunch of not-Emilies telling me their woes.

And they're not good woes. They're what I like to call "First-World Problems." I sincerely just don't get it, so I have a bit of a hard time feeling any sort of empathy or sympathy for people who come to me with them. People who tell me, "Videogames aren't fun anymore. I don't have fun anymore," or "I don't care about anything."

I don't know what to say - "If you're bored, you're boring," comes to mind. I sincerely want to tell people with these problems about caring and problems about videogames (and these are benign problems that they claim send them "spiraling into fits of depression," mind you) to just go out there and do some volunteering like I did. Go and work-out like I do. Get into my kind of rut - maybe some relaxation will suit you more then. Moreover, instead of bitching incessantly to me about your privileged lifestyle, you'll be benefiting a someone else who's down on their luck. Or maybe an animal - I fostered a lot of kittens in my time volunteering for Saint Joseph's Animal Control Department.

Just a footnote - if you're sincerely distraught about videogames and your ability to care about things, I'd like to refer you to this Comic that explains how I misperceived you somewhat, and warn you that I'm not exactly interested in helping you. I encourage you to get over yourself and go do something different.

Now then - excuse me while I do the same thing myself!

Also, I feel I should tell you, I recently filled out a small "About Me," blurb on GetAmped2's community page. It looked a little something like this:

"Hello - my username is AnIchirin.
In-game, my username is also AnIchirin.
I am a member of Maid Army.
I enjoy wearing Tryhard Panties in the form of my Magenta Grappler's Arms.
I prefer the map Waterfall as it's slightly less obnoxious than Great Avyon.
Hit-Accessories and Explosives are also pretty awesome.
I often pretend to have swag. I do not, in fact, have it.
I use AutoGuard like a talentless nerd.

Offline, I am an aspiring Naval Intelligence Officer.
I live in New York.
I enjoy working-out, classical literature, and the U.S. Postal Service.
I am a respectable chef.
I've done a lot of community service in my time.
I try and take care of my friends.
I enjoy Toohoo, among other silly things like .flow and webcomics.
I am in a relationship with a beautiful woman.
I think Onikobe Rin is pretty boss and save a lot of his work. "

In response to reading this, a man I do not know but now greatly admire, Cwas, drew a picture of what he perceived me to look like. I hope you'll appreciate his attention to detail and accuracy in depicting me:

The following is a muscular sailor in a chef-hat with a book in one hand, swaggin' shades on, and pictures of Ichirin Kumoi and a ⑨ stuffed into his boots.

Thank you, Cwas.

 

Shit, and the Chronicles of Liam.

Let's kick this off early so that we can get the latter half of the title out of the way with a quickness. It's a happier occasion anyways:

LIAM'S BIRTHDAY IS TODAY.

(Give him gifts of myrrh, in-game currencies, and nudes.)

Liam, if you didn't know, is a good friend of mine with whom I share a really bizarre history. You probably know a lot about it, because it was a huge learning experience for the both of us. All the same, Today's a day to admire how far he's come over the years, laugh about stupid-ass guild shenanigans in VidyaRO, Maid-Salute, and generally appreciate our resident Dark Reign pro, Maid Overlord, and Maker of "Mmph"s. If you've not already, hit 'em up Right Here and throw some confetti for him.

Skirting right on down the line and knocking the next happy occasion off the list, I'm going to talk about pornography. About two years ago, I was experimenting with my ability to draw - I'd seen a lot of occasions where people were drawing with pencils or tablets, and then coloring-in the subsequent line art. I'd become acquainted with Swedish pornographic artist, RockCandy through his Yume Nikki flashes, as I was very much a fan at the time and hadn't soiled-up my love for it with my love for .flow. 

Paging through his material, I grew really fond of his sole male character, Sixten Tubén, and left a message on his Guestbook stating that I'd draw Sixten, because he seemed really under-appreciated when put next to the female cast. Dicking around in Photoshop a bit, I realized that there was absolutely no way I was going to color-in a lineart of Sixten piloting a FlatSpace space-taxi. I just didn't have the know-how.

I always felt sort of guilty about that, and yesterday morning while reminiscing about that old game Dark Cloud, I suddenly remembered RockCandy and the artwork I'd said I'd do for him. Only this time, I owned up on it. I was elated when he hosted the piece on his page, but embarrassed to find he'd listed the artist as "A guy named Hank".

My Yahoo Mail name is "Hank Rearden," a character from Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. All things considered, though, I know I'm the artist and, well, I don't really have a name I use when doodling!

I think it's because I just doodle. I don't really consider myself much an artist.

And now we land on the other half of the title - Shit.

I'm wrecked. I just trekked twelve miles on foot for thirty bucks. I hope it gets me where I need to go, but that's nowhere until I get it deposited and order my train tickets.

I wasn't aware that they charge such an outrageous rate because "Two-Way Ticket" is actually conductor lingo, and means "Buy two separate tickets."

In my spare time, I've been sorting out the tumultuous relationship between two of my friends - one's young and really undefined, that is, he doesn't know what he wants, where he wants to be, and who he wants to be there with. The other person in the equation is level-headed, persistent, and already on really stable ground. They're really juxtaposed - even age-wise - and it leaves them communicating very poorly and at a sort of conflict of interest as of late. I don't really know what to do, so I've just been coaching them on each-other a bit, trying to get them to convey themselves, and praying that it all works out somehow.

In addition to all of this crap, I'm in the middle of moving, sort of.

I'm not really moving. My parents are moving, but they've recruited me to help and it's just a fuckin' mess.

It doesn't pay either. 

But anyways, that's the gist of things.

I've got to go call someone to make sure driving lessons for someone important are all lined-up.

I should get a shower, too. Those twelve miles have left me feeling sort of, y'know. Greasy.

HEY, SATHYRE.

WHERE DO BABIES COME FROM?

Sabina's birthday's rapidly approaching on July 25th, and I was requested to draw a pixel-y doodle wherein Sathyre Merekki explains where babies come from. She's also getting rainbow-themed clothing. There was much rejoicing.

Happy Early Birthday, Sabina. You're the crudest, most bad-ass girl I know. 

And your accent is BITCHIN'.

Sunglasses.

I MADE THIS AND I'LL EXPLAIN WHY AT THE END OF THIS ALL.

Right. Let's do this. Uninterrupted. I've got so much shit to talk about. You don't even know. Let's start with the Navy. 

Right, so you guys know I'm joining the Navy and all that. I took the ASVAB awhile back and it was being processed. We'll it turns out I've scored higher than my Intel Officer father, which leaves a whole lot of doors open for me. They're offering me a chance to join their Nuclear Department which is outrageous. It pays very well. It comes with stellar Navy benefits. They give me a Bachelor's in Nuclear Physics, and after four years, if it's something I'm still interested in, I can either accept $65,000 to re-enlist or I can simply cut my losses and apply my Nuclear Know-How elsewhere. In the department, if I'd like, I can actually tailor my direction towards treatment for radiation and the like, which allows me to hit the ground running and be a Chemo Tech or something if I'd like out of the Navy.

It's not neccessarily the job I'd wanted, but it's a very good one and it's still medical.

BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE. 

That's right. This post? It's gonna be like a damned Infomercial. 

Most of my friends, by some sort of galactic syzygy, have begun to WIN AT ROMANCE, and there's another addition to that group. Sabina! Sabina's WINNING AT ROMANCE.

Sabina's awesome. She dresses like stylish hoodlum, and casually listens to SAVE THE WORLD MUSIC, that is, dramatic Orchestral Pieces that would be befitting of leaping into the sky to challange the gods while humanity's fate hangs in the balance. I'll share some of it with you later when I've actually stopped typing for a moment. In addition Sabina's got a vocabulary that could make a sailor blush - as a Russian, she's capable of constructing a sentence entirely out of expletives and obscenities.

I particularly like hearing recanted times of her insulting people. A particular favorite of mine was, "I would tell you to go fuck a wall with your head, but I believe two walls cannot copulate."

Anyways, someone else has acknowledged Sabina's awesomeness, just like Ana's, and I am HOPELESSLY GIDDY over this fact.

CONGRATULATIONS, SABINA!

Oh shit, this reminds me. More on Ana. See, she's a huge fan of this place that sells really bitchin' patterned socks, stockings, garters and the like. It's a little place I occasionally dream of spending money at called Sock Dreams. Anyways, most of Ana's NOTORIOUSLY AWESOME OUTFITS are built around a pair of matching stockings, and after posting a picture of herself wearing their merchandise, Ana was actually contacted and told the following:

 ▇▇▇▇ is adorable, from her enthusiasm to her toes! We’re so pleased you’re loving the knee highs as much as we do!

Hello! We were wondering if you could submit a few cute sexy socks photos to our new blog. We are just getting started and need your help. Of course we will give you credit and a link to your blog with any submission. We seriously love your blog and you are so pretty. It would be out honor to have you on our site. Thanks ▇▇▇▇

It's really cool to have a place or person that you dig acknowledge your existence. Moreover, it's even better when they tell you that you're sexy.

YOU ARE OFFICIALLY ATTRACTIVE, ANA.

Which brings me to some odd stuff that happened today, which will likely segue into me talking about odd crap that happened over the weekend. 

So, regarding that sensation when someone you dig acknowledges your existence - If you're not familiar with Brian Lee, he's the guy behind the MYSTERIOUS AND SOMEWHAT NONSENSICAL interactive flash project TANE. I was particularly fond of one of the tracks he'd been working with and offered to pay him with a doodle of me wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket in an 8-bit theme - a phrase I'd used to discribe the sensation of hearing the track - in exchange for it. This is why there is an odd pixilated mess at the top of this page.

Either way, it worked and was sort of neat.

Now onto this weekend. I was leaving church. The closing line was "Be bold, not timid, in your service to God," and it really stuck me good. I felt ADEQUATELY BOLSTERED and left looking for someone to help when I stumbled onto a nursery school. They're understaffed, so I've offered to volunteer there. Feels Kamishirasawa, man.

After that, though, I'd heard this sound like a hammer busting off a wall. I could hear a man and woman screaming at each-other and I just didn't really know what to do. I stood there. A guy left to smoke and I asked if he'd heard it, too, and was concerned but he said he didn't hear anything. I told him I knew what apartment it was coming from and he just shook his head. I was nervous as hell, but I thought "Maybe someone's getting hurt?" and "Be bold, not timid," and finally I just knocked at the door.

This super gaunt-faced guy with a tattoo that read "ANTHONY" across his neck answered the door. I asked him if he were okay, and it went a little something like this:

• Me: "Hey, uh. Everything alright?
• Him: "Yeah, yeah-...Yeah, uh...No."
• Me: "What's wrong?"
• Him: "...Well, my wife and kids just left me. I just moved here. All my shit's in boxes and it reminds me of them to unpack it. A lot of it broke in the truck here. I just don't know what to do."

I kind of directed him to the Church and then offered to help him unpack.

 Anyways, now I'm planning and figuring. I have to part ways with some stuff to hit $180, but I've accounted for my trip somewhat, and I'm planning on visiting a few friends in New York City.
I'm going to be making Flan, and taking Alex out to eat.

MUCH EXCITATIONS.

Out Until Otherwise Noted.

I AM LEAVING FOR AWHILE.

So, in the meantime, here's a drawing of a hypothetical Fallout: New Vegas character.

Her name is Mole.

You make a lot of hypothetical characters when you can't play vidya.

Breadwinner Extraordinaire.

I'm going to be out for awhile while I work out of home for a bit. I've seasonal employment for about two weeks, and expect to bring in about three-hundred dollars from the whole gig.

Once I have everything ironed-out, I'll see about setting up my laptop, but if I can't, expect mail, or something - I have some holiday cards that have been stuck on my desk for awhile now.

Last night was the first stick-around snow of New York for me. It's very cold, and the flakes were super thick and fluffy like the stuffing for pillows. It was like someone tore open a gigantic pillow in the sky, and it looked something like this:Also, I should've had a Sailing Passport added to that cover interior, but I've had a bit of a problem. I'm not the best with Photoshop, as much as I like working with it, and had gotten a bit layer-happy. I had typed-up the entirety of a license for travel aboard Danneskjold Shipworks' vessel, "The Gypsy Shadow", and then added Krmmstopp's signature, which I was rather pleased with. I had rasterized everything but had forgotten to merge it all so that I could paste it into the cover, and secure it with a fake black button when I closed the image (Which I hadn't saved - good thinking there, Zack.) and promptly went to plop it in the middle of my page only to get:

"FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN THE TERMINATION OF CONTRACT AS WELL AS A FEE NO LESS THAN THREE-HUNDRED MARKS OF ANY GOLD-BACKED CURRENCY.

I HEREBY STATE THAT I UNDERSTAND THE TERMS AND CONDITIONS OF DANNESKJOLD SHIPWORKS AND TRAVEL ABOARD ITS VESSELS.

X______"

Just words. No cool bill. No signature. I had only gotten the bottom layer of the contract.
Bluh.

Anyways, I'm off to go work my ass off. Winnin' that bread like a champ.
I've only two more seasonal gifts to arrange. I'm just about done.

I've got to buy one copy of Atlas Shrugged for John, and browse skirts with Hjalmar, because that Holiday Layaway shit is totally a gimmick.

...I guess technically, I still need to wire $250 to Catherine to pay off half a loan, but that's not really a gift, because if it were a gift, she wouldn't let me do it.

I'll miss you guys - you know who you are.

Imperial Priority Rail.

I plan to weather the edges a little, later, or at least texture them so that they look clipped. This is one of three little things that will be pinned into the Universal Almanac, just adjacent to the dedication-page, where there is simply a poem:

I chanced upon a winding road
As far as the eye could see
And danced upon its cobblestones
Charting all that could be.

Please glance upon these findings
Old and new and far in range
And advance the knowledge in these bindings
Should it and I become estranged.

I imagine she would like someone to continue the book in her stead, should her illness claim her life, which is a very real possibility for Krmmstopp, and I'd like the back of the cover with travel-tickets and the like, because I imagine her using a lot of travel cartels to get around without aggravating her symptoms, and often having to present them. It also makes the Almanac feel like a cross between a Diary and an Encyclopedia. While they're all tedious and informative, they're written in first person and I think that helps breathe some of Krmmstopp herself into the pages. And when I can't be subtle, small pieces like rail-passports reveal things about her that you wouldn't know without me having explained them, like her first name, or if you hadn't read the prior posts, her illness and its crippling affects.

I'm working on several other pages that will be in the Almanac, entitled "On Life Archaic", "Rudimentary Sigilcraft for the Discerning Magician" and a schematic listed as "Industrial Brewing Apparatus for Potion and Conventional Beverage." I also have a collection of aged maps that I'm working on incorporating into the Almanac as a part of its atlas. If I do, they will be folded but textured to look thick, and have keys printed on the pages that precede them.

In less Universal Almanac news, I've grown just a bit disillusioned with a theory-board I've been posting on. Of the three posts I've made, they've all come into heavy fire, not for their merit or logic, but for their superficial contents, which bothers me a bit. Perhaps I'm growing too used to more scholarly company? All the same, I think I'll abandon my endeavors there, as they are largely unnecessary and not bearing any fruit in discussion.

I've largely settled my holiday purchases early.
I'm currently handling plans to visit a very glum friend of mine, as well.
I'm a little leery about that, and think I might try to make it a one-day trip. I'll cook for him and leave. He's had some sexual connotations that he's expressed and that I've shot down, but I think he needs the company of someone offline for a change. Someone to show up and say, "Hey, remember me? I'm that guy who looks out for you."

I don't know - it feels like a waste of time and effort, and it bothers me that the only "Me" purchase of the holiday is a trip to someone who's company unsettles me a little.

But he's a good kid, and strong for weathering all the garbage that he puts up with.

My seasonal work begins Friday, and will last for a little under two weeks.
When it is settled, I only need to attend a four hour seminar and finalize my college enrollment.

After this, I will be independent to the highest degree that one may ask, and I will be able to move into a college dormitory or apartment of my choosing. Depending on one's patience with me, I may be changing states as well. I don't mind this, and can do it for the paltry expense of a General Expense Stipend if I'm willing to be uncomfortable for three days.

I am.

I'll write more later, I have to get to the Gym, and then clean a bit. This place is a pigsty because everyone's sick and doesn't have the presumed stamina to pick up after themselves. Thankfully, I have some very great music to handle everything to.

D.B. Krmmstopp's Universal Almanac.

It's been a very long time since I've had time to do a proper update - since I made Amandine for Hjalmar, I believe. It's been a really messy few weeks. I'm a very good driver, but I'm nervous at night, and as it's Winter and "night" has come to mean "four o'clock", I'm perpetually out in the dark, spinning my wheels while people with their brights on blind me from behind in my side-mirrors. "Nervous" also means that I try to stop at every yellow light, which might mean slamming my foot down to break if I'm cruising along at forty miles an hour or so.

Operating machinery in the dark doesn't seem like the kind of thing to be intrepid about, but it's what I need to do if I hope to become a better driver. My apologies to any of you I maim on the way to the supermarket, I'm just trying to get better at something I'm not very smooth with. If I get a Yugo, I've got to be seamless, as to never risk breaking its tiny little obsolete body.

A lot of crap has transpired since my last entry, which is why it's been so long:
I've been trying to twist Alex's arm to try and get him to contact Turning Point, a local shelter, so that he and his mother will not be homeless, should his grandparents' patience with them as tenants slowly wear thing again. It never hurts to be prepared, even though he asserts that they've a home now that his Mother and grandmother have patched things up. Sometimes, truces are short-lived, you know?

Agustin and Patrick are slowly befriending each-other oncemore. It's a slow process, and it's just begun - I think it's largely their focus with this presumed status of "Boyfriend" and "Girlfriend". Frankly, I think if they were to offer the same care and interest they shared before their falling-out some time ago, and mutually disregarded the titles associated with those emotions, they would both be happier people. I'm also trying to keep their tempers in check - they're both very good and kind people, but when one gets angry, the other gets indignant, and angry in return. Instead of two calm people resolving their differences - which should be easy, as they know so much about each-other - they wind up with synchronized volcanic eruptions, and then head separate ways for a good while. I've already tried to stress what they have, and the disregard for title. Now I've just got to sow seeds, and hope they have the tools to recognize when they're close to a melt-down and need to take a moment to recompose.

Christmas is around the corner. I've been saving diligently. I was expecting to spend a whole lot more than I did. Which is just around one-hundred fifty dollars. I plan to pay half of Emily's loan from Catherine - we'll handle that expense together. That'll leave me with two-hundred fifty dollars to spare, which will become eight-hundred fifty if I don't get any scholarships in upon my entry to college. I feel like a fairly good budget-holder, but this is also all planning. Scheming, I suppose. Meddling.

People aren't-

Shit, I actually forgot to account for someone I was buying for. Maybe two, even.
I haven't bought them gifts as I've been a bit clueless as to what to buy them. I'll work on that later, and then crunch the numbers. Kindly disregard that "I feel like a fairly good budget-holder" bit, because I'm woefully premature. Son of a bitch.
Alright. That's a little stressful, but I'll just list it all out and see what I can do.
Composure regained. Shazam.

In recent news, my Uncle - that is, Charles, the drunken one - has tried to kill himself. He's been a hot mess as of recent, because he was out racing his truck like a moron and blew out his engine. It was a loaned vehicle and not really his, but he had no way to get to work, so instead of hitching with a friend or something, he goes out and gets shitfaced in his despair, and then gets fired for sleeping-in with a hang-over. Getting fired causes him to get into a fight with this girl he's dating - who's frankly a good candidate for appearing of Jerry Springer - and he promptly says he's not going to marry her, and they part ways. No car, no job, no girl. He decided he'd off himself, and ran to the hospital claiming to have ingested an entire bottle of sleep-aids. As it would turn, he was just really boozed-up and talking nonsense.

If you can't be a good example, I suppose that makes you a terrible warning. I'd better stay well enough alone from intoxication. Perhaps a drink here and there, but no getting drunk for me.

In closing, I've rolled-up all my character designing as of late into one character, "Krmmstopp". She's a very Jean Marat kind of character. She's got a mess of shoulder-length curls and is confined to a gas-mask style respirator, but as I don't see myself hop-stepping to any RPG in particular, I've not begun fleshing her home or family out much.
She suffers from a condition that I've decided will be affectionately dubbed "Rustlung", where in her blood has trouble both picking up and parting with Oxygen, which leaves some of it oxidizing and some of it stagnating. Her muscles have begun to atrophy, her immune system is weak. Dull bruises and discolored splotches. You get the gist of it.

Well, basically, instead of just accepting the hand she's dealt, and confining herself to her wax-cloth overcoat and respirator, she decides that the adventurous life she wanted is still very much possible, if only through a flexible perspective. She begins writing the "Universal Almanac". I imagine it to be this kind of...First-person Wikipedia. This sickly woman's efforts to compile all the knowledge, understanding, and information she possibly can before her death. Culture, Religion, Dance, Combat, Schematics, Recipes, Language, Alphabets, Magic, Chemistry, Alchemy, Maps, Politics, Etiquette, Medicine, Science, Physiology, Psychology, Anatomy, Dialogues from Famous People...

All sorts of stuff. Anything she can get ahold of. Stuff sometimes she doesn't understand or can't explain. Just compiling it in the Universal Almanac, tediously and meticulously from her bathtub, where she spends her evenings without her respirator at a typewriter, processing insane loads of information at a time, and sometimes sketching charts and diagrams.

I wanted her to be from a sea-side town, which is the sole reason there's a boat and ship-wheel on the cover. In addition, I've decided she will occasionally contact people who are experts in fields she does not understand, hoping to gain information with regard to it. If the person complies, she lists them in the bibliography as members of the Atelier Maiden's Plot.

I like that title, as it just means something akin to "Scheming Girl's Workshop". I figured it was very apt, and that she would initially be the sole member, but also pass out small cards of membership, telling people that they've just contributed to the written collective of the world's knowledge, and should hold onto that slip of paper, as it will one-day recognize them as a face in history.

Tragic, Ambitious, Ugly, Beautiful, Intellectual, but Dreamy...

There's a lot of duality with Krmmstopp, and I think that will make her very versatile.
I want to begin making fake "pages" for the almanac, fervently documenting mundane or at times, outright fantastic and outlandish things.

But here is the cover.

Work in Progress.

This is the right shoulder of Gauntlet, from Heroes of Newerth. John used to play it all the time. I was going to draw a friend of mine up in the Basel as Gauntlet, because Gauntlet's hand explodes into divine flame.

After tinkering around with it for a little, and preparing to add the head, and a menacingly curled normal-arm in the distance, I'd overheard a long-winded and angry rant. Someone's friend, it seemed, is on their umpteenth divorce, chasing that 'Spark' of initial romance or whatever.

All through the panes of my window, all I could hear were lines like, "Sometimes, life happens", and "There aren't that many modern-day love stories", and "So many people seem perfect and then they fall apart."

I don't know how to feel about that, but it made me question what I was doing, propping my feet up to doodle. I'm going to take life by the horns again.

I have to be.
I have to do.
I am a Rearden.

I am.
I think.
I will.

I will not be a statistic.
I will break the mold.
I will tear this stupid sense of complacency way from myself.
I am a work in progress, and my progress will not be halted.

I am Monday's Child.

Hjalmar probably doesn't even know how inadvertently inspirational that phrase was.
Or that it's hanging on my wall like a mantra in the place of my old "I am Hank Rearden", which I have lost somewhere between states.

I'm going to get out there and suplex life after a morning of black coffee and pre-class conversation with my favorite Swede.

Because I'm Monday's child.

Also, this was supposed to be a Bren gun.
I've stumbled into it in Fallout: Tactics, and while terribly impractical, it's a
favorite of mine simply because it's very pretty. This one isn't. I don't know what happened, but it exploded halfway into it.

Life's good. I'm invincible. I love people.

4:00 AM comes early. I'm out.

Puffers, Mace Gloves, and Powder Bags.

None of them really matter, because prior to tonight, it'd seem my bank account was in the red.

Not a whole lot of time to be dicking around and being comfortable now.

I've gotten out of debt, but my account-balance is now pretty pitiful.

Of my weekly to-do list, three items have been marked complete.

On an application hop - I've even tried a few "Manly" places like the Autoparts dealer.

I also got a crate of Club Soda with yesterday's groceries.
It's kind of the only thing keeping me wheeling and dealing.

Picture sort of related to the title - I was anticipating that Fallout: Tactics bit, and drew it in fancy of my Mace Glove, Powder Bags, and Beastlord Grinding.
I kind of counted my Geckos before they hatched.

I'd love to further dissect this, but I've got applications to turn in and fill out. Not having a job and just getting out of debt really makes me feel like a bum.
I hate feeling like a bum.
Like a Jim Taggart.

I also got into a really good discussion with Sparrow.
Maybe not a discussion, or "really good" in the usual sense; it was really more of an, "I'm so conflicted in my self-perception that I can't think, and I've come to you, as a reasonably intelligent person, with hopes of making anything a little more solid."

I was an inadvertent help, and the conclusion wound-down to, "I can just be me".

I feel really good about that. I feel like I'm paying forward the sometimes inadvertent, sometimes extremely deliberate help I get from my esteemed teacher.

Tacking this to the end kind of picks me up a little.

"Will I Ever Sleep?"

Outlook cloudy, try again later.

For the first time in a long time, I've come to you with a doodle. I was propping my feet up and watching a Fallout stream of Remilia's - we have a running joke that Chuck, a vomit-inducing Super-Mutie, is Unzan as his alternate weapon is simply STRONG PUNCH. This was the humble origins of Chuckzan, the mightiest party-member in the group. I decided I would draw him. And Remilia with her Gatling Laser. And then the Okuupus, with her ninth leg.

Pretty soon, I was on a doodle-kick. I hope to have some more for you later. Hopefully better ones - I didn't really have a character in mind for this, so it was a lot of winging-it. Taking the Remilia-with-a-Gatling Laser off my notebook should be easy, because I know how to draw a Remilia. No real creative liberties there.

I've been sort of busy trying to get reemployed here. In between running job-applications and eating plums, I've been keeping busy by doodling, reading and playing Arcanum. Reading what, you may ask? Dominic Deegan. It's a nifty little pun-laden comic, and it's got like, a million pages. The art gets progressively better as the pages go up.

I particularly liked Luna - she reminded me of Arcanum, which got me in the mood to play it once-more with a little help from all the Fallout stream as the games are a little similar. She's not exactly pretty. I like the idea of a beauty-in-the-personality heroine, though she still suffers from the occasional flare-up of Marysue-itis. Preferences aside, I've been nominated as Szark Sturtz: Gay, competing with women, and delightful almost-pious. You won't see any of that during his first introduction - he's just a villain that time around. Give it a read if you're eager to kill time; I'm only into 2006 and it's gone clear up into 2011. I admire that writer's tenacity.

New York's a pretty okay place insofar, by the by. My lack of furniture, my biggest complaint, will change in a week or so. I went to the local supermarket, Wegman's, and by God, it was like walking into my dreamland. Every backwards-ass recipe ingredient I've ever needed. Bundt pans. Tea-infusers. Yerba Mate. Mangosteens, a curry aisle. Mindblowing. I told the cashier, Sidhe, "I've just found where half my paychecks are going to be spent."

Oh, and on employment - It seems like it's down to The Salvation Army, Starbucks, a Pharmacy, and Wegman's. If none of that works, I'm hoofing it down to the Plaza to see what they've got there.