No Malware Here!

Hi! A few days ago, XTREMEchibiFace was reported as possibly harboring malware. I am sorry if this freaked you out and I just want to let ya know that it wasn't a problem and your computer was not in immediate danger of being infected.

Here's what happened:
A blog in the in the list of blogs I follow is listed as 'suspicious' because, recently, it's been infected by malware. Connecting their blog to mine exposed this site to infection. If this infection took hold, this place would become a malware-spreading, spirk-spewing middleman from fangirl hell.
HOWEVER, this did NOT happen because I fixed it.

TL;DR: *
This site was not infected. It will not be infected. Your computer is (probably) not infected.

Chrome is amazing at protecting us from malicious software and I applaud it for working to make the Tubes a better place.

Again, sorry for the scare.
-Rahel



*"Too long, didn't read."

Instagram Is in the Eye of the Beholder

For many years, people have strived to perfect the art of photography, studying lighting, framing techniques, filters, and building darkrooms.
Then, one dark and stormy night, a monster was borne from the minds of two well-intentioned software engineers-
INSTAGRAM.
Well, not just Instagram. There are many good photography programs out there (Hipsamatic springs to mind), but Instagram is a big one.
Anyway, everyone is now an amateur photographer, carrying the means to create beautiful pictures around in their pocket.
This has troubled a lot of people. I'm not a photographer, but I like art and at first I was saddened by this. Photographers that have spent their lives learning how to work a camera are being threatened by this new technology. Now, I know that this technology is a thousand times greater in the hands of these photographers, but it's still a little sad.
Finally, I realized something- these photo-editing programs are actually helping photography. Here's how.

Look at Ansel Adams, a very popular photographer. You've probably seen his work on huge office inspirational posters- probably with the caption "Freedom" in crappy typography.

T H E   A S P H A L T   L O O K S   L O N E L Y

Anyway, this guy's work is good. Why, though? Here are some reasons that instantly come to my mind:

1. The resolution is amazing
2. The shots are beautifully framed
3. The shots show Adams' awe of the power of nature

But what makes this guy so special even now in this age of rapidly progressing technology? 

Resolution? I think not. The resolution on a lot of smartphone cameras is more impressive.

The positioning and the way it's framed? Crop tools can help with that.

That leaves one element- Adam's point of view.

People still love this guy's work because they show his view of the world. You can just imagine him waiting on a hill before dawn, planning his shot and waiting for the sun to rise so that he can capture that breathless moment when day breaks, sending rays of light creeping over the valley. You can feel him behind the camera of every photo, and his excitement is palpable.

This is why new technology will help photography. It isn't enough to quickly snap a picture of your mocaccino, then crop it and tint it sepia. Hell, it isn't even enough without the cropping and coloring. If people don't get a sense of you in the picture, they will see your work as just another boring Instagram pic. You have to let them feel the tension of a dozen coffee addicts in a small steamy room, smell the coffee in the air, and taste your impatience for your drink to cool. You have to take the viewer's hand and invite them into your little pocket of time, let them stay a while in this little universe that was previously only visable to you.

THIS is photography. THIS is art. And just because you can now doctor the hell out of a somewhat-decent photo doesn't make photography itself obsolete. In fact, it might just save it.



PS: To all you people who take pictures of coffee: I am not judging you. One of my best friends does this and, as much as I tease him for it, it does not make him less fun to hang out with. In fact, I would love nothing more then to sit around with you people and critique your photographs of coffee. Heck, if any of you want to do that I'd be game. Just email 'em to me and I'll post 'em! The series of posts could be called "BEST HIPSTER PICS OF THE MONTH AWARDS" and I'd give the winner five bucks. I'm totally serious.

Beagle Puke!

My obese beagle has lost some weight and has suddenly gained a lot of energy. When I came home today, he pelted around the house until I let him into the front yard. Then he ran in circles around me as fast as he could until he got worn out. Then he recovered and chased his tail until he puked.
No, seriously. He puked.
I think that I like dogs.

Update

For some reason, I felt like giving people an update on the happenings in my life. No idea if anyone gives a shit about these posts, but I'm gonna do it anyway because I'm a sadistic bastard.

So, here goes.

I got a dog. He is an obese beagle named Taser. He's about nine and a little bit of a handfull, but he's mostly chill.

One of my friends is in New Mexico, but I think she's visiting soon. <waves/> I miss her.

One of my other friends (the one that I was angsting about) sent me an email yesterday to wish me a happy halloween, so I'm glad that she thinks of me. I think of her a lot.

I marathoned Welcome to Night Vale and listened to 31 episodes in two weeks, so now I'm caught up with the series. OH GOD WHY.

I've been watching a shit ton of Nostalgia Critic, so I keep coming into conversations about movies with "Ooo! I just saw a critique of that!" I've got to stop doing that.

Cooper is in college, studying furiously and getting good grades.

My maternal grandfather has terminal cancer. They just put him on morphine, so I'm not sure how next year is gonna be.

My step-mom is pregnant with another kid. This one is a girl. I hear sleepless nights in my future.

I'm still not depressed, but I'm not feeling upbeat either. Still, better to be moody and deadpan then terrified and sad!

My sister is going to get her blackbelt in Aikido. It's gonna be rad.

I've been drawing a bit and I've become much better. I should post some of my work some time soon.

The only thing that makes me happy right now without a huge negative crash afterward is podcasts*, math, and work. Sure, it's a neutral and sedated kind of happy, but it's way better then rainbows and laughing children swiftly followed  by sobbing and darkness. I have yet to learn why my moods keep doing this. In the meantime, I will take happiness in small diluted portions.

Desmond, my little brother, turned 1 last week. He is adorable and gaining a better grasp of language. ...Which means that I need to stop cussing. Shit.

My cat disappeared. She was badass, but I think that the opossum got her. I swear, I will murder that little fucker when I get my hands on him.

...That's all I've got for now. Until next time.

*Radiolab, Welcome to Night Vale, The Thrilling Adventure Hour, and How to Do Everything

Roses are Crocodiles of the Mind

"Stop to smell the roses!" People tell me when I worry. "You're young!" They say. "Live a little!"

To that I always want to reply "I take it that's what you've done? That explains why you live on unemployment and have a kid in Oregon that you never see."

I don't though. I just duck my head and say "True, true." Which is what I tend to say when I'm stumped for what so say next or I don't agree with your statement.

Since I was a little kid, I've been really weird about time. Now, I'm not talking about managing time (although that's always been a huge issue). I'm talking about the passage of time and how it relates to me.

I remember my Dad explaining the plot line of Blade Runner to me. "You see, you might be a replicant and not even know it," He said in the conspiratorial tone he always uses when he tries to trip me out. "All of your memories might be fake all the way up to this point."

This did not sit well with me. I'd be playing with dinosaurs on the floor and think "Well, did that conversation actually happen? What about what I'm thinking right now? What is now? How long does it last? Is it years? Months? Weeks? ...Seconds?"

When faced with existential questions like this, I tend to come to the realization that it really doesn't matter. In this case, that never happened. Time is one of those things that you just don't mess with.

I tried to just forget about it. Push it into the back of my mind. Still, it lurked and brooded in the shadows and swamps of my brain like a Nile crocodile waiting patiently for its next meal. It started to drive me crazy. I'd be playing peacefully one moment, then it would hit. That otherworldly feeling- like deja vu except more physical. More dangerous. I would start counting out seconds obsessively, wondering which one was real. Would it really make a difference anyway, though? I wasn't sure, but by god I would find out.

After months of freaking out about this periodically, I had the pleasure of watching Spaceballs. There's this great scene where Darth Helmet and his henchman find the Spaceballs movie and, in one of the most meta scenes ever, fast forward through it, hoping to find the whereabouts of their enemies.

However, they go too far and find themselves watching themselves watching themselves watching themselves... Watching themselves. Darth gets all impatient and demands to know when "then will be now." The henchman replies "Soon."

This kinda stuck with me. "Maybe," I thought "If I don't focus on the past 'nows' and focus on the 'soons' instead, I won't freak out so much."

And it's worked. I now think way into the future, always chasing that 'soon' and running, breathless, from that 'now.'

Still, every so often (usually when looking at sunbeams, oddly enough), I feel that 'now' sneaking up on me and I feel lost, counting out the seconds and breathing my first breath of the day every single moment, until I get a grip on myself and barrel onward, not caring where I end up just so long as it's not here.

Stupid roses.

Rain, Rain, Stay All Day!

And the rain rain rain came down down down
And the rain rain rain came down.

Hey, people. It's raining out!! Isn't that amazing? And I don't mean a sprinkle here and there. It really rained. For at least 15 mins! It even slanted at one point.
When it started, I ran outside and down the street as fast as I could. Then I stopped and just stood, my hair streaming and my shoulders and pants cuffs soaked. Alena joined me and I ran around in circles, a stupid grin on my face.
I haven't been this happy in a very long time.
I waved my arms around and screamed, startling passing drivers.
"GOODBYE, DEPRESSION!" I yelled as loud as I wanted. "YOU TRIED TO TEAR ME DOWN WITH SUNLIGHT AND BIRDS, BUT BEHOLD!" I believe that I spun around at this point. "THE RAIN COMES, BRINGING COLD AND HAPPINESS! AHAHAHAHHAAAH!!!!"
On a related note, I think the neighbors think that I'm mad.
BUT WHO CARES??

I have no need of drinkin'.
Don't need a bottle or two.
I can sit all day not thinkin'
Of how much I miss you...
Because the rain is here to stay
And I wouldn't have it any other way...

Yes, the rain is here so I'm not drinkin' for you.
Yeah, the rain is here so I'm not drinkin' for you.

Some guys they like their whiskey
In bottles deep and clear
But that poison can be risky
And the rain is here.

Oh I don't need to drink again
I'll let the rain wash me away!
No I don't need to think again
I'll save it for another day.

And when the rain is gone and done
I'll go out, find another one.
Someone clean and someone true
No, I don't have to think about you

'Cause I don't need to drink again
I'll let the rain wash me away!
No I don't need to think again
I'll save it for another day.

Fuzzy and Confused

The weeks have been getting longer and my head's been feeling fuzzy.
I'm usually able to switch into a really creative mode fairly quickly, writing and downing coffee like a maniac. This past month? Not so much.
My head feels fuzzy and I've had a couple migraines, and I haven't been speaking correctly. Not like I-just-had-a-seizure speak, more like forgetting words and not putting sentences together well. It's like I've forgotten how grammar works.
I can almost pull off writing because I can go back and re-read stuff, but it still ends up being really dry.
On top of all this, I've been way more socially withdrawn now that school's back in. Now that I have to see people for a few hours twice a week, I'm not so keen on going outside.
I don't know. Maybe I'm sick. My head hurts, I can't formulate ideas properly, I'm physically and emotionally tired, and I keep saying stupid shit without thinking.
Whatever it is, it needs to go away soon so that I can get on with things.

Personal Character Development

So I've been reading about Asperger's syndrome lately. I'm pretty sure that I have it and it's taking a lot of willpower to not go research-crazy (because self-diagnosis can lead to sketchy Real Life details later on. Hypochondriac, remember?). Still, I've learned quite a bit and I wanted to bring something up.

I am very good at bullshitting. I am not good at lying. Yes, there is a difference.
For example, if you ask if I did or didn't do something I was/wasn't supposed to, I will always tell the truth, even if it isn't in my best interests. This isn't only because I'm against lying. It's because I really can't lie in the first place. I'd fix my eyes on something boring, try to hide my face, and wonder if my skin was changing color, trying all the while to remember if the person I'm talking to is good at detecting lies. I get so hung up on them buying it, I end up giving myself away.
Bullshitting, on the other hand, is like telling a story. Sure, that's what lying is too, but when I bullshit it's to entertain. I love telling kids about the magical properties of coconuts, how to befriend fire imps, and just what the troll-to-ogre ratio is in the monster-hunting business.*
If people don't believe me, that's totally fine. It was done in jest and I lost nothing. I can bullshit all I want.
The trouble is, I've become really good at pretending to be other people.

I love characters. There's nothing quite as fun as slipping into an act, to take on alien characteristics.
I loved Heath Ledger's performance in Batman: Dark Knight so much, I adopted his speech patterns for weeks. I was so enthralled by Abed Nadir from Community that I still say 'Cool. Cool cool cool.' compulsively. And don't even get me started on the 10th Doctor.
It's all fine when it's a recognizable character. It only gets weird when your moods suddenly have character detached from you.
For example, yesterday at work I was putting books on a cart, talking to the new librarian. I usually have a meandering sort of tone, as if I'm somewhere else entirely. I also tend to mumble a lot and giggle at my own jokes. So I was talking normally, when suddenly our landlord walked up to me.
I straightened a bit and smiled. "Hey!" I said, raising my eyebrows and twisting my neck a little in a surprised manner. "How're you doing?"
"Not bad." He said, returning the smile. "How are you?"
"I'm good." I said, although I wasn't really feeling fantastic.
"That's great." He said. "I'm gonna look at some books. You take care now."
"All right, you too." I said in my most pleasant voice. I continued to sort books, holding a happy smile until he was well out of sight. Then I dropped the face, relaxed my shoulders, and went back to sorting.
What I did was insincere in the moment, but it wasn't meant to trick him. He would be more comfortable if I reacted really positively in that moment, so I did. It was a pleasant encounter and I think we both befitted from it in a small way.
And it isn't like every time I do this, I'm faking. My 'happy and polite' mode is a little amped up at work, but I'm sure that anyone who knows me has seen it. Usually I actually am really happy to see you. It just takes a tad bit more effort to really express it (or, sometimes, regulate it. Some people are put off by my 'mad loon' grin.).
Still, it might creep other people out to see me shift modes, as I'm sure the new librarian did. Sometimes when I'm in a setting where I have to be in 'happy, polite' mode all day, it really becomes taxing. Being on guard all the time, remembering which face you should be making, or what topic would be too inappropriate to bring up... It's really tiring.

SO if you see my face suddenly change after talking to someone, you'll know why.



*No, seriously. I told my neighbor kids about this. It was awesome.
**Actually, he isn't our landlord. I've forgotten the correct term. It doesn't really matter right now, though.

Publishers and the Adherance to Phantasmic Posulations

So there's this story that I've been working on lately. I've written tons of snippets, side stories, and notes for it. I've spent time obsessing, researching, and perfecting. You'd think that, with all the work I've put into it, I might get some money from it some day. Wrong.
My work does not completely belong to me. Why? Because the universe in which it's set belongs to Gene Roddenberry and CBS. That's right, it's a Star Trek fanfiction!
However, unlike most fanfiction, this one is going to be huge. About the size of an actual book. And the crazy part? All of the characters are original.
At this point, you're probably shouting at your screen in frustration at my stupid choices. Why would I relinquish almost all of my creative rights and write about a universe that already exists when I could just as easily create my own?
Because it's a challenge.
I'm being forced to write within the bounds of a pre-written universe. This means that I have to adhere to the laws of nature and heavily research everything. It means that, even though all the characters are original and I'm creating an entirely new species and planet, I have to do things like look up the appropriate uniform for their era, observe proper Starfleet conduct, and make sure that I know the starship's floor plan.
A lot of work is going into this and a lot of work will continue to go into this, and I'm probably never going to get paid (unless they want to buy the story off me). I know this, and I'm fine with it. Sure, it would be nice to see some cash flow from a published book, but that's not really the point of writing. Honestly, I'd be happy if just one person read it. As long as a single person finds themselves enjoying the story, if it opens them to new ideas or viewpoints, even just a little, then my work has paid off.
Plus, if it ends up being a hit, pieces of it may just worm its way into Canon! Did you know that Uhura's first name was created by William Rotsler, an avid Star Trek fan who wrote Star Trek II Biographies, a licensed Star Trek novel (basically a glorified fanfic)? Gene Rodenberry and Nichelle Nichols liked the name, so it was adopted as canon. However, Nyota Uhura's name was never mentioned in the Star Trek movies or show until the 2009 film, taking place in the Alternate Reality.
<takes breaths/>
Whew! Did not mean to geek out so much there. What was I saying?

Oh yeah!
So I'm making this super cool, super long Star Trek fanfic that will probably never make me any money, but I'm totally fine with that and I hope that you guys will read it someday.
Phew.

Logging out. Live long and prosper.

ZeFrank: Pwner of Angels

So... Much... ZeFrank.... @_@
This man is so amazing, every time he smiles a tree sloth poops rainbow butterflies onto unsuspecting tourists.
Check him out on youtube or on his website, zefrank.com
Don't be intimidated by his strange eyes and orange filters. His videos are thought provoking, but easy to understand and his voice is like the lovechild of Leonard Cohen and a very cuddly, sarcastic tiger.
Now GO.

Friendship Advice?

My best friend and I hit a rough patch about a year ago. It was mostly my fault. When I realized that things weren't going smoothly, I, like an idiot, thought that if I stepped back and gave everything time, it would all end up okay. I thought that I was screwing it up by being too close to the situation.
I realized far, far too late that this was entirely stupid and quite possibly the worst idea I've ever had. My friend contacted me a few months ago and we talked things over. I thought that things, although not entirely patched up with her, were going to get better. That we might have to start over again, but everything would be fine.
This hasn't happened and I'm kinda freaking out.
I've considered just forgetting about the whole thing entirely, but that doesn't seem to be an option- I think of her every day and it hurts horribly every single time. I'm not exaggerating about this. Every damn day, I turn around and there's something that reminds me of her staring me in the face.
I know that I should never forget the impact that she's had upon my life, but sometimes I wish that I could.

I'm assuming that most of the people reading this have had friends before and kinda know what to do. I'm at a total loss and I'm afraid of waiting around any longer.
Thank you.



__________________________________

PS: Sorry about the melodrama. I've been trying to not talk about any of my crazy-ass emotional issues anymore because I tend to overwhelm people, but sometimes I need answers.

PPS: It's 2:12 AM and I'm really freaking tired, so please excuse me if I come across as anything other then sad/confused. I can't function properly at this hour without caffeine in my system, so I have no filters or recognition for what is or isn't appropriate. (I still can't tell if it needs more or fewer cuss-words. Wait, less? No, that doesn't make sense... What's the antonym of fewer, again??) I probably shouldn't even be publishing this right now, but I'm worried that I won't have enough guts in the morning.

PPPS: To make up for the drama in this post, here are some funny picture of cats.










PPPPS: I used to have a very impressive lolcatz collection, but I lost it when my motherboard overheated. =(

PPPPPS: How many postscripts can you make?

PPPPPPS: According to wikipedia, you can make an infinite number of postscripts.
"Sometimes, when additional points are made after the first postscript, abbreviations such as PPS (post-post-scriptum, or postquam-post-scriptum) and PPPS (post-post-post-scriptum, and so on, ad infinitum) are used, though only PPS has somewhat common usage." [source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Postscript ]
As tempted as I am to push it to the limit, I think I'll stick with the 6.

Telephones and Tardiness

8:04

That's what my alarm clock says at the moment. It had better actually be 8:04, because I just went back and set it.

Yesterday I got a call from my boss. She said that we were short on hours for the pages and I no longer have my Wednesdays. I work 3 days a week and Wednesdays are where I have most my hours. I enjoy Wednesdays- Not only because I earn 16 bucks more on that day. I enjoy them because they present a challenge. Storytime starts at 10:30 for the little kids, so the place is full of children for most the time I'm there. Learning how to time everything perfectly without running over children all the while has been something good for me. In addition to this, my favorite coworker is always there on Wednesdays (not always there on the other days), and we usually get some time to talk about Doctor Who or something before there are more things to shelve.

I was kinda sad about losing Wednesdays and a bit anxious about my job's stability, but I decided to let it go. There was nothing I could do... And tomorrow was no longer a work day.

So I turned off my alarm.

When I woke up, my clock read 9:42. Normally I'd be all jazzed about the 42, but something hit me:

DID SHE MEAN THIS WEDNESDAY?

They open when my shift starts, so I couldn't call. I'd have to walk over there to find out.

The problem was, I had to brush my teeth, find socks, and wash the roadgrit out of my hair before walking into my place of work. And I had less then 10 minuets.

I'd already been late twice in a row the in the last weeks (once because I forgot to set the alarm, once because of miscommunication between my Mom and me) and I was sure that they wouldn't be so forgiving this time.

I explained the situation to mom, stuck my head in the tub, and ran around like a lunatic to find clothes, a toothbrush sticking out of my face all the while.

I ran out the door at 9:55. As I ran, I opened my phone to see if I had any missed calls.

There, in the corner in tiny letters, was the time. 7:55.

I stopped and looked around. It did seem too late for the sun to be that low... I ran back inside and checked the time on the microwave. Yup, 7:55. Somehow I managed to change my clock's time when I turned off the alarm. I've done it before.

So now I'm going to eat and get ready at a slower pace before walking to work to see if I work today anyway.
As of right now, it's 8:34. (Yeah, I write slowly! What do you want from me??) I'll walk to work in an hour and 45 minutes. Wish me luck.

________________________________

PS: While looking for an appropriate word for the title, I came upon the word "metachronism." Neat, huh?

PSS: I finished writing and editing at 8:34. I worked on the title until 8:47. PRIORITIES.

Dammit, Petrelicest...

Gah! With no more Doctor Who or Sherlock, I've turned to Heroes for entertainment... I am so addicted. I'm also really torn because

I

WISH

THAT

THESE

TWO

AREN'T

 BROTHERS.

JEEZ.

...But it's somehow better that they are.
Good god, what have I become?

ALSO, Hiro.

THE GAY STEAMROLLER TRIUMPHS.

"I would not tar the political branches with the brush of bigotry."
-John Roberts on the court's new-found refusal to take all the DOMA shit.

F#CK, YEAH!! We will flatten that crappy tar with our uber fabulous GAY STEAMROLLER.
...Even if it takes 5 freakin' years to do it. =P

(This image belongs to The Oatmeal. He is freaking amazing, go check him out.)

ROLL ON, AWESOME PEOPLE.

Digital Copies

I just had an interesting conversation with Cooper today. Along the way, complained a bit about the absurd prices of comics and manga. I tend to slam through manga, comfortably reading about 4 volumes at a time. One of my favorite mangas is xxxHolic, a CLAMP story about the manifestations of habits, desires, and modes of thought. It's laid out beautifully, the art is amazing, and the characters and stories are divine. I would buy the entire series, happily giving my money to the artists, if each volume wasn't $10.95 new. I realize that the artists spend a very long time planning and drawing these beautiful things and I'm sure that a whole volume is worth $10.95, but, in reality, I'm not going to buy a whole bunch of these new. I just don't have the money! This brings up an interesting point.

The worth of a book isn't in the binding. It's the relationship between the reader and the story. You can bind the Twilight series in beautiful gold-framed, embossed mermaid skin, but it doesn't mean I'm going to buy it. Just because you spent a fortune to make the physical book doesn't mean that it's actual value goes up all that much.
The same's true for any work of art! You don't look at Van Gogh's Starry Night and say "My god! He really spent a fortune on paint! I hope he got his money's worth in the end.*" No, you think "Wow! Look at these colors! And the swirls! And the yellow!! ...And is that a tree or an alien structure??" and then you fight the urge to draw on a little exploding TARDIS in the corner.

Of course, it would be lovely if Van Gogh turned a profit on this! I would pay for tickets to see it myself... If I wasn't able to find a digital copy.
This brings me to things like eBooks. How much should we pay for one? Obviously, we should pay the person who types up the thing themselves or the person who creates the technology to properly scan the thing, as well as the author, editor, and publishers... But after that's done, should we pay for every single digital copy of the book? The work has already gone into it. I know that the author and the typists or programmers are still getting paid every time we buy one, but it's still kind of weird. We're used to paying for physical copies of things. Buying a used movie is fine, because you're buying it from the original buyer. But it it okay to buy or even trade a digital copy? Where should the line be drawn, and by whom?
When you sell a work of art, you're selling the physical product and an idea. You want your copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray to hold up, but the whole reason you bought it was so that you could experience the story the pages contain. So if the physical aspect is taken away (like with eBooks), the only thing that remains it the feeling itself. In this digital age, we are peddling ideas. Nothing more.
So how much is an idea worth? Can it be translated into dollars? If so, should it be? Should it be regulated?
These are questions that I have no answers to. If you have opinions or corrections on any of the points I've made during the post, feel free to leave them in the comments! Don't worry, I don't bite! I'll even respond to each one. =)

______________________________

*As far as I know, he only sold one painting: The Red Vineyard. ...So no, he did not get his money's worth.

JUST STOP

The checkup I talked about in my last post went all right, but they weren't able to draw any blood from me. My veins are too small, so they couldn't really find 'em. Didn't stop them from trying, though! Now I have a stab in each arm. X(

I also got the first of three shots that will vaccinate me from.... <drumroll/>

CERVICAL CANCER!!

...Wait, what? Why do I need that??

As it turns out, cervical cancer is actually quite a problem and all female teens are supposed to get a vaccine for it.

Well and good, right?

WRONG. This means that I have to get 3 MORE shots of this crap, and I'M NOT PLANNING ON USING MY CERVIX ANY TIME SOON.

In case you don't know, human reproduction is a bit of a hot-button issue for me. Our numbers are increasing at a rapid rate. Humans are breeding faster then we can find answers to our numerous health, economic, and environmental problems. So it isn't just that I'm cranky about taking unnecessary drugs, I'm cranky about being lumped in with all you breeders! Good GOD, there are too damn many of us! Just STOP for a while, will ya??

Goddess almighty. >=[

PS: Yup, I can feel the hate-mail comin' in... Family members: I love you, but I've already heard the speech. I just want you to know that nothing will make me not feel REALLY pissed off about overpopulation. Yes, I KNOW that it's a hairy issue and that you can't just stop people from breeding. I'm sure my opinions may change in a few years. This is nothing against you guys. Shots and human sexuality just gets on my nerves, okay?? Go pester some pot-head and leave me with my angry, hypocritical, skewed outlook on the world. According to you all, it should change next month anyway.

ANGSTADY-ANGST, HURRAH!

Hello, world.
Despite what my last post may have lead you to believe, I'm actually not constantly depressed anymore. What cured me? I'd like to say the support of my family and friends, but I'm gonna be honest here. While the humans whom I occasionally let within my personal bubble of 5 feet (most notably Cooper McHatton) helped me feel a little less empty inside, what really cured me was the Vlogbrothers. I'm sorry, guys. You helped a lot, but there's something about John and Hank that reminds me that, despite our faults, we're all made of some form of awesome.
That being said, I'm not feeling too amazing at the moment. I have a doctor's appointment (for a check-up) in a few hours (I don't know WHEN) that I became aware of just today. I HATE DOCTOR'S OFFICES. I DON'T KNOW WHY. I can read all day about lympoma and sleep soundly at night. I can look at diagrams of tracheotomies and all I'll think is "Neat!" I'm the kind of person who thinks it's fun to stay up until 6:00AM on a school night reading up on torture methods on wikipedia. However, when I walk into that cold, foul-smelling office, I immediately start to panic. My throat feels like it's closing, I can't fight off the people trying to hug me or comfort me, and I'm afraid that the rushing sound in my ears will be my undoing.
So, yeah. I don't particularly like the doctor's office. On top of all this, I DON'T KNOW IF I WORK THIS FRIDAY. The days have been scrambled up on me and I can barely remember what I did yesterday, never mind the day before that. I really hope they'd call me if I skipped a day. It is VERY important that I find out if I work, because I have a therapy session RIGHT WHEN I F#CKING WORK EVERY OTHER FRIDAY.
<rant>
...And I've been staying until at least 4:00AM every night for the past week, my library book is due tomorrow, my friend Talon and I are trying to make things work between us (but I think we might be failing), I'm sure Shanti has sent me a new email, but I haven't checked it yet and I hope she isn't mad at me, I love math but I suck at it, I feel like a heel for not hanging out with Cooper as much as I should, the overuse of emotion among humans is stupid, unnecessary, and confusing, I don't understand women, I can't remember what day it is, I keep forgetting why I'm here and I wonder if I ever knew, panic attacks are rampant, the ninjas are all after me, and I'm pretty damn sure that the Silents are creeping up on me wherever I go.

AND THAT'S JUST THIS WEEK. A rather GOOD week, compared to what this month's been like.

</rant>

...Oh, and commas are CONFUSING, especially when I misuse them. Sorry about that. >.<
BAH. Anyway, what was I saying before my post was bombarded by ANGST??
Oh yeah. I'm not depressed anymore.
Wheee. <waves maracas/>

Happy Father's Day!

...Yes, that's my Dad. Yes, he has maple syrup. No, I am NOT ashamed of him!! ...Most of the time. XD

Damn it, U2!

U2 IS SO F#CKING DEPRESSING. I love it, but GAWD. Instant sorrow. X|

I don't know why, it just makes me sad! Cold inside, like I've accidentally killed a kitten.

....WHELP, off to go listen to Skrillex. At least that doesn't make me want to vomit ice water.

FIREFLY. FUUUUUUUUUU-

I just finished Firefly.
I, just, what? HOW. I don't understand why this was axed!! How...?

I never even got to see Mal and Inara make up! I never found out who Shepherd Book is! WE NEVER FOUND OUT WHY RIVER HAS PSYCHIC POWERS. <--[Highlight to see the spoilers]

I mean,

....I wanna throw tables or something right now.

I've still got to watch Serenity, though. Fingers crossed.

Why, Fox? WHY??

I just watched episodes 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 of Firefly. Back-to-back.
....I think I need a plan for when I finish the show. I've already started padding the walls of my room, but I'm not sure it'll be enough.
WHY, FOX?? WHYYYY??? CURSE YOUR SUDDEN BUT INEVITABLE BETRAYAL!!! T.T

PS. Cooper? Are you reading this?? If so, DUDE. FIREFLY. I'm tellin' ya. Wee bit racy, but WORTH IT.

Name of the Doctor... THE FUUH??

[WARNING!

FOR DOCTOR WHO SEASON 7, EPISODE 13]
...Ya? Ya.
Sooo.... I'm assuming that anyone reading to here has watched the season finale. I'm also assuming that you're just as astounded as I am.
I mean, what the hell. What WAS that?? I think I liked it, but it was weird. It ties up the whole Clara thing quite nicely, but there are some major plot points I don't feel were properly addressed. Like... Oh... I dunno, WHO THE HELL DOES JOHN HURT PLAY?? The doctor, obviously, but which one??
There are many theories, but I like the 9.5 on the best. ...Wait. 9? ...DAMN IT! See, I never watched Classic Who, so I had no idea that the Time War took place between 8 and 9. I assumed that it was before 1's time, and he had been carrying the baggage all this time! Good god, the Doctor is amazing at hiding his feelings! Anyhoo, what was I prattling on about? Oh yes, John Hurt.
So I'm pretty sure that John Hurt plays 9. I have some questions as to how they're going to approach this, though. There are 3 ways, as far as I can see-

1. 1. They abandon 11 and jump backward, focusing on 9.5.
2. They kill 11 and jump backward, focusing on 9.5.
3. They focus on 11 and 9.5 at the same time, maybe switching every other episode, maybe through flash-backs.
4. They keep on truckin' with 11, leaving us to wonder about 9.5 for the rest of 11's reign.

I'm guessing they'll go with #3.

My biggest headache with all this?
WE'VE. BEEN. GETTING. THENUMBERSWRONGALLTHISTIME.
This is a very big problem for me. If John Hurt really is the 9th Doctor, then 9 is actually 10, and 10 is actually 11, and 11 is actually 12, WHICH MEANS THAT THE DREADED 13 IS COMING UP NEXT. In case you have no idea what I'm talking about, Time Lords are only allowed to regenerate 12 times, giving them a total of 13 bodies. Sometimes they were granted extra lives, but it wasn't often. We have no idea how many regenerations the Doctor is allowed, so we're expecting his escape from the Rule of Thirteen to be pretty gnarly. And, if this whole "John Hurt As the Real 9th Doctor" hypothesis to be true, we have way less time then we had previously thought.
....Also, I have a borderline-CDO* thing about getting names right. IF I'VE HAD THE NUMBER OF DAVID TENNANT'S DOCTOR ALL WRONG THIS WHOLE TIME, I'M NOT SURE WHAT I'LL DO. ...Probably just map out a vacuuming plan for my room, but still.


...ALSO, DO WE GET MORE RIVER SONG??? 'Cause we need more River Song.

I mean, ^^DAMN.^^           

*OCD in alphabetical order

Aptly Named: Opulence!

What's this? Another stick-figure comic?? <sarcasm>Greeaaat.</sarcasm>

Open in a new tab to read. =)

Happy IDAHOBIT.

On May 17, 1990, homosexuality was removed from the International Classification of Diseases of the World Health Organization.

Original Ideas

I want to talk about Original Ideas. Where do they come from? Who has them? Can they be owned? Are they even real?
These questions have plagued creators for as long as we can remember. We stay up at night, alone with anxiety and self-doubt. Is my creation original?
It doesn't matter what you've created- a painting, a song, a book, a building, a child- we all have this fear.

Let me illustrate this for you...
A song pops into your head. It has a great melody and you feel that it's fresh. You feel that it's right there, hovering above you, waiting for you to acknowledge it. You can see the lyrics starting to brim out of it, feel the syllables winding around every note.
Then you get that weird sensation. It starts as a tickling against your mind. A little whisper of doubt. "Did I make this?" You think. "Is it mine? If not, then who's is it? Would they be okay letting me have it?" As you think these things, the idea hovering above you starts to fade. The inspiration wanes and it leaves you alone.You wonder if it had a home. You wonder if it's happy, if you were right to let it go.
We all get that. We all hesitate to put our pens to paper, because we're all afraid that it's been done before. Has it been?

There is always a time in your life where you realize that eventually there won't be any new songs. Sure, they might have tiny variations, but they'll have the same idea behind it. It's a depressing thought. This has been bothering me for years. Is there actually a limit to how many original ideas we can generate?

Then it hit me: we've been incorrectly defining 'original' all this time.
In a technical sense, no. We can't run out of completely unique pieces of music because songs can be of infinite length. For example, picture Beethoven's fifth symphony. Hear the jarring beginning in your mind. You know it- the part that goes "Dun dun dun DUUUN" and makes you want to throw your cat out the window. Ya got it? Okay. Now add a "blip" sound right in the middle. The kind goombas make when you squish 'em. So now it's "Dun dun dun -blip!-"
So if you were to play this for someone and asked them what it was, they'd say "Uhm, Beethoven. But what the frakk was that thing in the middle...?"
The point is, they'd recognize it. They'd know what it is, but it wouldn't be Beethoven's fifth. Technically, it would be something completely different. All because of that slight variation.
Logic states that, since songs could be infinitely long, there are infinite places in which one can mix and interchange variables. Technically, we will never run out of original songs.

The problem is, we still aren't defining 'original' correctly.

When most of us think of original songs, we think of copyright. There are published works of art, and if you publish something too close to them, you'll end up with lawsuits against you. The word you need to look at from this sentence is 'close.' What is close? According to our assumptions about technical originality, close doesn't matter. Any variation makes it a new creation. It's way more complicated with copyright. There really isn't a fixed rule stating how 'close' your work has to be to someone else's for you to be in trouble- in fact, many people have gotten away with near-plagiarism for many years. Most of the time, it's all a matter of how much they can sue you for. Now, I'm not saying that copyright is necessarily a bad thing! It has protected many creators from having their ideas stolen.
...Then again, what counts as stealing? These are ideas we're talking about here. It's hard to pin labels on something so magical to us. The ancient Greeks had goddesses of art and inspiration (muses). They viewed creation as a mystical thing- something of the gods, but just within our reach. Very little has changed since then. We speak of Writer's Block with shudders and capital letters. We're afraid. Afraid that this gift given to us by higher beings themselves might be taken away from us.
Ironically, it is this very fear that keeps us from creating.

So we still haven't found the true definition of 'original.' The technical perspective is a bit to dry and the copyright perspective changes with the cash flow. You know what that means? We're gonna have to get... <sunglasses>ABSTRACT.</sunglasses>
Really, how else could we approach an idea? Ideas aren't born in vacuums or bank accounts. They're born in complicated lifeforms as we battle with our own vices and existential angst. They lack substance, yet look around you! Look at your walls. Your clothing. Your light. Hell, look at your goddamn computer.We live in a world made up of these strange insoluble things, yet we know very little about them!
If you're like me, you worry every day that you're doing it wrong. Intelligent lifeforms create new things. We build and make and break and deconstruct and rebuild and make things better. It's in our very nature! But what is the point of a lifeform that regurgitates ideas? A being that has no way to create new things? These are the things that keep me up at night (along with ninjas). What if everything I'm doing is crap? What if it's all been done before? Maybe I'm just kidding myself, pretending to be an artist. One day, someone will walk up to me and let me in on their little secret- they've been lying the whole time. It was all a big practical joke and no one likes your things, not even your mother or your dog, and they were kidding and it all got out of hand! You're not really an artist. You don't have any real talent. You have no originality.
I know you know what I'm talking about. We all go through this. The only way to battle this is to find the truth- wait, no. To find your truth. Because that's all that really matters in the end, isn't it?
I found my truth today. It came in a flash and sounded like a thunderclap. I saw pictures and ideas floating across my vision as if I were underwater, yet I felt like I was suspended in the air. It came so fast and left such an imprint, I don't think I'll forget it any time soon.
So here it is.

Originality is a construct. It is an illusion. Everything in the world is original to us because the way that we see it is unique.
What would Beethoven's fifth symphony be if there was no one to listen to it? To feel and draw conclusions from it? What would it be if it weren't for Beethoven himself, scribbling notes furiously, pounding out the melodies with such ferocity that his useless ears cried out in terror from the pounding in his head?
It would be nothing.
Nothing at all.
It doesn't matter if your work is similar to things before it. It isn't a race. It isn't a popularity contest. It's a story. It's a story about people. It shows how we relate to one another, it shows how we can connect. When you heard Mr. King's speech for the first time, it struck a chord. It didn't matter if you've heard people say the same things before. It didn't matter if it was pieced together from old sayings and bible quotes. It was the fact that it was pieced together for you, and it touched your heart. In that moment, you felt what it was like to be understood because you understood him. You got where he was coming from, you felt his pain, his loneliness, his determination, no matter your race. In that moment, you knew that there was another being on this earth who shared something with you- an idea. A feeling. And you knew that you weren't alone.
It's this connection that keeps us going. Creating. Sharing. It's something we can all feel, whether it's through a painting, a poem, a song, or a letter. We hear the song and we beat it out with our own souls, joining in, adding upon, spreading on.
Because that's what we do.
So who cares if it isn't 'original'? If it reaches just one person, if just for a split second, they know that you stand with them in this world of constant turmoil, if it comforts them, then you've done your job.
Don't be afraid to create. It's what keeps us together.

May the Fourth be with You

HELL YEAH.

You can't take our spirits away, Lucas.

Too Many Stories!

As I'm sure that you can tell from my half-started blogs and story arcs, I have a hard time following through with things.
In fact, I have quite a lot of stories that I've started over the years. And I mean a lot.

Just this year I have started 10 projects.

Working Title	Type	Status	Description	Excuses
Cellblock 42	Novel	Unfinished	About prison	Didn’t know enough about prisons
[withheld]	Novel	Barely started	About the bible	Worried about what people will think of it
Author Avatar Star Trek Fanfic	Fanfiction	In progress.	A long Star Trek fanfic with all original characters. Plot is laid out, a few chapters are down, and there are TONS of snippets.
[withheld]	Twitter and blogspot Webseries	Ongoing	A secret series of blog and twitter posts about Doctor Who.*	Really difficult. In real time
Muses	Nonfiction	Almost forgotten	A nonfiction book about muses and writer’s block.	Writer’s block. (Hypocrite much??)
Sherlock-Misery Crossover Fanfic	Fanfiction	Hiatus	Exactly what it says on the tin.	Lost interest. Long and painful. Couldn't find all my notes
Forgetting Blackbirds	Webcomic	Hiatus	Webcomic about a post-apocalyptic world. Clockpunk, alternate energy, sorcery, politics, romance, sword and sorcery, dragons, gods, gypsies, bandits, saving the world... It just goes on and on	Worried over everything. Reinvented characters multiple times. Made blueprints of robot caravan, including the engine. Planned WAY too much and burned myself out
Alan Turing Leads the Machines	Webcomic	Barely started	Alan Turing is transported to the future after he commits suicide. Has to fight for AI rights in a strange and technologic-oriented world.	Didn't want to go too crazy because of what happened with Forgetting Blackbirds
Shards	Webcomic	Barely started	Superhero webcomic with my sister.	Still going at a snail’s pace
James P. Finch and the Forgotten Labyrinth	Playfic	On again, off again	An elaborate game/story that takes place in a huge labyrinth.	Writer’s block

*It’s a secret, but I will give you a hint if you really want to find it- 23rd female steampunkish Doctor.

______

I am the biggest procrastinator in the entire world! I just keep coming up with more stuff that I write down, then elaborate upon, then pursue, then fall into, then get burned out on. It's a bit like Monomania. My Dad's side of the family has it. We get into weird projects, work on them for months, then get bored.
So... Why did I post this?? Because it's something that I'm dealing with. I'm admitting it to myself and to the world and I'm making a conscious decision to change it. I'm still going to write this stuff down, but I'm going to be more careful about what I drop to write it. I have to be faithful and choose my current stories over any shiny new ones that come my way.

............Ahem.

Venn Diagrams and Career Options

[WARNING! Ranting ahead! Plans for future and other "fun" stuff!]

I feel like I'm in a bit of a bind right now.
...Which is stupid, because I'm very privileged and I have tons of options.
Nevertheless, I've been having a weird time. Can I just rant? Yes? Cool.
Okay. Here's some of what's going on.

I passed the CHSPE. I got full marks on everything but the math- I only met the minimum requirement. =(
I was pretty miffed about that- I've been doing lots of math and I started to love it. I guess most love is unrequited, though huh?
Anyway, I passed the test, which means that I have the equivalent of a high school diploma!
So here's my problem.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO.

I was going to take college, but now that I'm to this point, I'm not sure it's such a good idea. I wanted to take a sociology course. Not because I want to be a sociologist, no no. It's because I want to learn things. But then I realized... I'd also have to take the prerequisite courses. And I can't afford that. Sure, I can get some help from my parents, but that would be cheating. And college is an investment. You can't just drop tons of dough on classes then not do anything with it! You have to make money from it later on. On top of this I'd be working my ass off studying, trying to pay for studying, trying to keep in contact with my friends (which is hard enough already), and trying to be happy on top of this! Being happy is a struggle. One that I am not winning at the moment.
So I'm not so sure about college.
...But I need written permission from both of my parents to not go to school.
Mom wants me to pursue a career and thinks that I should take some college. Dad is a bit more confusing. He wants me to learn PHP and come to work for him, and he says that college is mostly a waste of time. He has told me this on many occasions. At the same time he recently told me that I have to go to school. I have no idea if he means college or high school. (Besides, he's the one who decided that we had to home school.) Holly suggested Nordhoff. I'm sorry, but why would I go to Nordhoff if I don't have to?? Besides the opportunity to create a Rebel Alliance of Nerds and Other Repressed Peoples and punch out jerks, of course.

So I have some choices- not all of them are mutually exclusive. The problem is how they all fit together.


Okay. I just made some Venn diagrams. I feel a lot better now.

Looking at this, I think I'm gonna go with Scenario 2. I'm not sure if I should choose A or B, though. Either way, I'm going to have to get permission from Mom and Dad (and, by extension, Holly).

I think I'll sleep on it.