Not all Alders are trees

I've been working on a couple pieces for a local magazine.  This is one I just started (today), and I could use you smart people's help.  So...yup.  Here's the first page.

 I saw an angel today in Algebra class. Her long black hair curled around her neck and shoulders like a shadowy embrace. When her eyes met mine, I knew I was in love. She was the most beautiful girl in the entire school. I think. I've only been here for a couple of hours.

Wait, why are they all staring at me?

“What's your name, dumbass?” a boy who looked like gorilla shouted at me. I'd gotten so lost in metaphors I hadn't realized we were doing roll call. “Oh! Um, Alder Jones!” I sputtered. I put my head on my desk. I was already beginning to feel out of place here; this school was too high class for people like me. This school, with its twenty thousand dollar tuition, state of the art buildings, rolling green hills and fields... it was a bit of a step up from my old, run down Catholic high school. I got lucky. Yeah, I knew I was smart, and I was pretty good at wrestling (the sport paying my grant) but...I was very different. I knew it as soon as I came here this morning. I almost regretted my decision, until I saw her.

I spent too much time zoning out. I didn't even hear her name.

“Alder you said?” the boy sitting on the other side of me whispered. He raised an eyebrow at me; he looked a little confused. “Yeah. Why?” I responded, probably sounding more annoyed than I intended.

“We're on the same team, dude” the boy said with a laugh. “Same weight class and everything. Funny though, coach said you were a chick. I guess you do got a girly face.”

“I am a girl.”

The boy flushed, and looked back at his notebook for a moment before turning back to me. “Heh, that explains why you got a girly face, though,” He looked at his desk a the teacher shot a look in our direction. When he went back to writing on the whiteboard, the boy turned back to me. “Didn't mean any harm. I'm Zach, by the way. And, I won't be going easy on you cuz you're a girl, either.” I couldn't help but smile at the boy. He was friendly enough.

“Good. I want to pin you fair and square.” I gave Zach a confident smirk. It might have seemed a little cocky, but I didn't really care. I held up three fingers. “I'll have your ass pinned in thirty seconds.” Zach laughed.

“I'll bet you twenty bucks you won't.” Crap, I didn't have twenty bucks. Well, that just meant I had to win. I noticed the angel watching us out of the corner of her eye. I really wish I'd heard her name. I just got lost in those deep brown eyes and...

“Double or nothing.” I added.

Dammit, I'm an idiot.

Crap.

I don't know how to plan a wedding.

Screw You, Depression!

I'm gonna start doing shit with my life!!!

I'm currently about 90% through finishing a short story that I plan on submitting to Philadelphia Stories, a magazine which I'm sure if you have any sense, you can figure out what its all about.  Of course, when I say 90% done, I mean, I still kinda sorta really need to edit it.... BUT FINE DETAILS....

I've also been playing around with RPG Maker.  I actually have a working, playable (ish) thing going.  It's nowhere near done, but... it works!  That's all that really matters to me right now.  And it's intensely silly, so that's fun.

Another thing.  I was employed.  For about a week.  Then I quit, because the place was super sketchy, and I wasn't getting paid.  So, I guess it was really: I volunteered at an inner city horse stable and listened to the same, tired history tours over and over again, when I wasn't standing around, bored to death, holding the useless rope leash to a one ton creature on a busy city street as its actual handler sat on the side, bitching about money and chain smoking.

Finally, I may finally be moving soon.  After lots of drama with my family (which is thankfully beginning to get resolved in a favorable manner) me and Sam started taking this moving thing a lot more seriously.  And since we just plain CAN'T afford to live in the city without an employed roommate (sorry Kaye), we've been looking at other options.  We'll see if all this pans out; I'm not going to be announcing moving out until I actually KNOW it's in the foreseeable future.

Um, I think that's it, I guess.  I'm done wallowing in my own self pity.  I'm finally really trying to pull myself back to my feet.  So yeah, my depression can suck a big, fat, hairy dick.  

A Little Sophmoric...

Colleen was (is) a creeper like that.

"I am NOT a Pokemon." - Steve
Some nerd humor goes a long way, eh?

 Old comics I dredged up from the archives (IE: deviantArt).
...Enjoy.

Dog Eat Dog?

So, I have an interesting, disjointed story for you all.  And it isn't depressing. (Hopefully...)

So me and the boyfriend-now-fiance doohickey (as well as Kaye, whose totally awesome video game blog you should read, if you don't already) are working at moving in together.  And anyone who knows me knows that I love dogs.  And am fully planning on getting one as soon as income allows.  So, when there's a fifty foot billboard around the corner from my house that says ADOPT A GREYHOUND and has a picture of two adorable hounds cuddling, you can imagine what happens whenever I'm in a car/get behind the wheel:

"Omigawd Sam! Can we go? Please? Can we? Saaaaaam? Pleeeeeeeeease?!"
"But...its such a long drive...and gas prices...."
"PLEASE?!!?!!!?!?!!"
"...fine."


So, anyway, we've been there quite a few times now.  And, yes, I've developed a favorite.

(His name is Trapper, and he's part dingo I'm pretty sure.  Also, he doesn't have a tail anymore.)  Sadly, my favorite would eat my cat...soooo that's out of the question.

But, what this is really about is me finding these dogs... fascinating, quite frankly.  They're like, the big dog breed for cat lovers. For serious.  And, they're surprisingly chill.  Also, they want to eat small dogs.  Which is always fun.

Wait, what?

Yeah.  So I was walking one of them yesterday, a littler one that the guy in charge of the kennels said was "Probably cat-friendly.  I guess..."  We took her out, she was super happy and excited to go outside ("Do you wanna go for a waaaalk?")... and then she saw a little dog.  Well, her ears perk up and she's suddenly there is nothing in the world but this little dog.

I'm sure most of you have seen the look that dogs get when you hold their favorite toy right out of their reach. Yeah.  That.

I swear, I could almost hear her thinking.

"I wonder if you squeak like my toys.  I'll bite you and I'll pull out your stuffing and I will FIND that squeaker and squeak it all day long." - Juliet the Dog.


In fact, it took until we were very...very far away from it (completely out of sight, and probably out of scent) for her to focus on anything else.  Like sniffing poop.

Yup.  Poop always wins out over living chew toys.  That's a lesson we all should learn and take to heart.



If you're interested in helping ex-racing Greyhounds find permanent homes and/or live out the rest of their days in comfort, you should check out the National Greyhound Adoption Program's website, by clicking that link.

A Pessimistic Retrospective

I feel as though I need to update this with something a little bit less...well...depressing. I should be writing more often. How can I be a writer if I don't...I dunno...write?

So, there are a few topics that I'd want to discuss, but I'll only touch on one today.

The topic of the day is:

I suck!

No no, wait...this isn't quite as self-depreciating as it seems. Really! I suppose I should rewind a bit to get to the exact reason why I believe that the above is currently a fact.

Growing up, I always viewed my adult self to be more successful than I am now. I had dreams of being a wildlife biologist and a Harvard graduate. I was a straight A student; good at just about everything I stuck my hand in. I also had an excellent work ethic. Oddly enough, I believe that's what did me in.

I know, it's weird. But bear with me. (Hehe...bear. I don't care if I used the wrong spelling!)

I grew up with no understanding of having to work hard. Everything always just...came to me. I was leaps and bounds ahead of where other kids my age were. I learned how to read at three years old, and my and everyone around me's standards were set rather high after that. The thing is, I knew I was smart. I read everything, learned a lot, absorved more... so when it came to school, I never had to try. I had already learned it. And if I didn't, it just came to me soon enough.

And that work ethic, that unbelievable work ethic that I now envy? Artificial. I hated doing homework, especially math (the only thing I didn't just pick up really easily). I always wanted to do something else, but there was always an adult sitting there at the table, or in the next room. Meanwhile I was stuck listening to people watching TV or playing outside and I just stewed. So, when I got older and adults weren't watching...weren't asking where my homework was everyday... I had the realization: I didn't have to put up with this grind anymore.

So, in seventh grade, I stopped doing homework. Something it took me until my junior year of college to start doing consistantly again.

After I transfered to a high end prep school, I couldn't cope with the fact that things didn't come easily to me anymore. I was discouraged by the fact that all of a sudden, I was two years behind in math (we had just started pre-algebra, and they were in advanced algebra in 8^th grade), and was struggling to do well in my old school. I didn't know how to study. I didn't know how to work hard. School was always just "sit there and have people telling you things you already know."

You see, I realize my failings. I understand why I'm in the position I'm in now, unemployed and unsatisfied with my life. But, while I'm not trying to shirk the blame onto anyone, I feel like it was an unavoidable consiquence of my childish arrogance.

I always feel a bit disappointed with myself about where I ended up. The standards I've held myself to have steadily decreased over the years. Sometimes I feel like because of one poor decision in my childhood, I lost out doing the only things I felt I was ever good at. Yes, art is good, respectable, fun...but, it was always a hobby for me. I went through higher education for a hobby, and I don't think I could put forth the effort to be as competitive in the field as I should be.

So, yes. I suck. If I ran into my childhood self, she would kick my ass. But, I don't have to suck forever. This is why I'm writing and constantly going around with a camera slung around my neck.

If nothing else, I don't want to be a complete disappointment to myself. So, practice makes perfect and all that.

...fin.

(One day I'll learn how to end these, I promise...)

Why is there a chicken in my closet?

Cole Bishop had a dinosaur once, but it ran away when he woke up. It was a nice dinosaur; he was an Oviraptor with a funny little British accent. He said his name was Colin...

If you want to read more click this link.  

Later guys.