One of my pet peeves is the millions of parasites on the internet. The kind of people who see a photo or a piece of "art" on the internet and basically jizz all over their computer screen, and then comment so everyone else knows they jizzed all over their computer screen, too. The kind of people who don't actually know what good work really looks like, so they assume any half-fancy pretentious pile of shit is a masterpiece. I don't care what people think, it's when they start assuming everyone wants to know what they think, and spew accordingly. Kinda like when you strut out your front door in some slightly questionable getup. Yeah, it's not all there, but you sure feel awesome in it! You tell yourself, I don't care what they think! But as soon as you notice the stares, the whispers, the covert pointing, the giggling, you're about ready to shit yourself. You were fine with yourself until everyone else made it clear you weren't fine.
I don't think art was meant for the internet.
1.08.2010
12.29.2009
Literary Mindfucking
In joyous news, I finally finished a painting!
On the other hand, another painting I was working on at the same time will probably be scrapped and the surface reworked for a series I want to make with the finished piece being the first.
In other news, I was thinking once again about the Golden Compass books, officially called His Dark Materials. Spoilers follow, I now claim no responsibility hereafter.
Granted, I read the trilogy rather late in my young life, as I believe they are intended for young people beginning the tumultuous journey into puberty. The first book is properly written for the intended audience: a young girl, Lyra, lives wild over an immense and ancient college campus; she does what she wants, listens to no one, and commands the respect and allegiance of the city's various street urchins. If you had to be an orphan, wouldn't that be the bitchingest way to do it? And of course, that is but the beginning, my good fellow! Lyra goes on incredible adventures, tells crusty old men what to do, befriends a giant talking bear, and, best of all, she's best buddies with her literal and very tangible spirit animal, who can conveniently change shape to whatever animal she wishes. She saves a butt ton of kids from a horrible institution that evil grownups devised to rob kids of their youth.
Naturally, what young adults' book would be complete without serious adult undertones? The theme snaking under this book, though only becoming apparent towards the end when the plot twists reveal themselves, is a diatribe against the Church. My opinion on that is neither here nor there; I'm not offended by the author's dislike of the Church, though I do question his putting it in a book for such young people.
But AHA! You see, the next two books become increasingly darker, and the overall plot becomes ever more convoluted, until, at the very end of the trilogy you realize the author was working himself up into a frenzy. Finally, the death of GOD! Granted, God is a mere figurehead, but considering what he represents, what would his death mean? The death of the Church? I dunno!
My issue with the books is that, starting in the Subtle Knife, our protagonist Lyra gets shoved aside. She is no longer the wild, headstrong young heroine one is led to like in the Golden Compass. Nah weh, mon. Lyra takes a backseat to WILL, the budding young man! Will becomes the possessor of a totally bitching blade, the Subtle Knife, because every hero's got to have a weapon! Lyra, after consulting the alethiometer (an object that knows the answers to everything) decides that her entire purpose now is to help Will find his father! To resolve his daddy issues of course! She does whatever he says (and shit damn if he ain't a bossy little punkass) and I'll be damned if she doesn't submit to his every whim just as if she were a neat little housewife!
Naturally Will is used to having defenseless women around. He had to support his mother his whole life, didn't he? As I recall she has some kind of early onset dementia or whatever because Will's dad disappeared ten years previous. Funny, isn't it, how the women in these books become either mum puppets or wicked villainesses at the attention or neglect of their male counterparts.
You have to understand, I loved the Golden Compass. That book was great. And I certainly loved aspects of the other books. The guy used the proper formulas to ensure he had a fantastic fantasy-scifi-adventure story. I just think his personal agenda kept reaching up and bitchslapping me.
On the other hand, another painting I was working on at the same time will probably be scrapped and the surface reworked for a series I want to make with the finished piece being the first.
In other news, I was thinking once again about the Golden Compass books, officially called His Dark Materials. Spoilers follow, I now claim no responsibility hereafter.
Granted, I read the trilogy rather late in my young life, as I believe they are intended for young people beginning the tumultuous journey into puberty. The first book is properly written for the intended audience: a young girl, Lyra, lives wild over an immense and ancient college campus; she does what she wants, listens to no one, and commands the respect and allegiance of the city's various street urchins. If you had to be an orphan, wouldn't that be the bitchingest way to do it? And of course, that is but the beginning, my good fellow! Lyra goes on incredible adventures, tells crusty old men what to do, befriends a giant talking bear, and, best of all, she's best buddies with her literal and very tangible spirit animal, who can conveniently change shape to whatever animal she wishes. She saves a butt ton of kids from a horrible institution that evil grownups devised to rob kids of their youth.
Naturally, what young adults' book would be complete without serious adult undertones? The theme snaking under this book, though only becoming apparent towards the end when the plot twists reveal themselves, is a diatribe against the Church. My opinion on that is neither here nor there; I'm not offended by the author's dislike of the Church, though I do question his putting it in a book for such young people.
But AHA! You see, the next two books become increasingly darker, and the overall plot becomes ever more convoluted, until, at the very end of the trilogy you realize the author was working himself up into a frenzy. Finally, the death of GOD! Granted, God is a mere figurehead, but considering what he represents, what would his death mean? The death of the Church? I dunno!
My issue with the books is that, starting in the Subtle Knife, our protagonist Lyra gets shoved aside. She is no longer the wild, headstrong young heroine one is led to like in the Golden Compass. Nah weh, mon. Lyra takes a backseat to WILL, the budding young man! Will becomes the possessor of a totally bitching blade, the Subtle Knife, because every hero's got to have a weapon! Lyra, after consulting the alethiometer (an object that knows the answers to everything) decides that her entire purpose now is to help Will find his father! To resolve his daddy issues of course! She does whatever he says (and shit damn if he ain't a bossy little punkass) and I'll be damned if she doesn't submit to his every whim just as if she were a neat little housewife!
Naturally Will is used to having defenseless women around. He had to support his mother his whole life, didn't he? As I recall she has some kind of early onset dementia or whatever because Will's dad disappeared ten years previous. Funny, isn't it, how the women in these books become either mum puppets or wicked villainesses at the attention or neglect of their male counterparts.
You have to understand, I loved the Golden Compass. That book was great. And I certainly loved aspects of the other books. The guy used the proper formulas to ensure he had a fantastic fantasy-scifi-adventure story. I just think his personal agenda kept reaching up and bitchslapping me.
12.08.2009
Really Important Topic
Why are women's shirts and dresses always so cute and well designed on the front, but then so dull on the back? Is it really so difficult to continue that nice beaded neckline all the way around? People check us out from behind too. And backs are pretty sexy. A woman's frontside gets all the attention and pretty stuff, but the back always gets stiffed. Unfair, I say!
11.29.2009
My Throat Will Be Next
BEING SICK SUUUUUUUUUUCKS!!
I just recovered from my last bout of sickness less than a month ago, and now my nose feels like a separate entity, like a mucus alien that has attached itself to my face, but not yet to my nervous system. The space between my eyes is like a black hole, drawing said eyes ever inward in an agony of throbbing pain. I must keep my mouth open constantly to breathe, making me a now chronic mouth-breather, as they are called in the medicinal field. I had to buy Blistex today, since the regular Chap crap doesn't really cut it. Let me let you in on a trade secret: Blistex feels great on raw and chapped nostrils. When, you know, you can take a second from blowing your nose. And if you're able to reapply it every few seconds.
At least I have The Office to keep me company. I'm totally shipping Jim and Pam, and I can't wait for Roy to get the axe. I totally know he does, eventually. Really.
I just recovered from my last bout of sickness less than a month ago, and now my nose feels like a separate entity, like a mucus alien that has attached itself to my face, but not yet to my nervous system. The space between my eyes is like a black hole, drawing said eyes ever inward in an agony of throbbing pain. I must keep my mouth open constantly to breathe, making me a now chronic mouth-breather, as they are called in the medicinal field. I had to buy Blistex today, since the regular Chap crap doesn't really cut it. Let me let you in on a trade secret: Blistex feels great on raw and chapped nostrils. When, you know, you can take a second from blowing your nose. And if you're able to reapply it every few seconds.
At least I have The Office to keep me company. I'm totally shipping Jim and Pam, and I can't wait for Roy to get the axe. I totally know he does, eventually. Really.
11.19.2009
To Be Alive, One Must Have A Life
People can be pretty disappointing in real life. Like, maybe you listen to this local band, and they're totally awesome, but you meet the people in real life and realize they're just a bunch of stuck up fucking hipsters.
Or that wonderful guy you met in that chat room who totally understands you and who turns out to be about twenty years older, morbidly obese, and married. And a total fuckwad idiot.
Or your friends on Myspace who (all 928) all look so cool and sexy in their photos but who are really a bunch of trashy whorish cunts who don't know what to do with their lives.
Oh. OH, and how about that "missed connection" on craigslist? I don't even want to think about that one. At least on a dating site you get some stats to check out before you talk to someone, rather than just "hey i saw u, ur pretty hott, send me an email with pics so i know its u."
In other news, I read a fucking lot.
Or that wonderful guy you met in that chat room who totally understands you and who turns out to be about twenty years older, morbidly obese, and married. And a total fuckwad idiot.
Or your friends on Myspace who (all 928) all look so cool and sexy in their photos but who are really a bunch of trashy whorish cunts who don't know what to do with their lives.
Oh. OH, and how about that "missed connection" on craigslist? I don't even want to think about that one. At least on a dating site you get some stats to check out before you talk to someone, rather than just "hey i saw u, ur pretty hott, send me an email with pics so i know its u."
In other news, I read a fucking lot.
11.10.2009
I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself
For the last week I've been chewed at and gnawed on by an unknown quantity of fleas. Not so many that I've been able to spot them, but not so few that a day and night hasn't gone by when I haven't scratched deperately at fresh welts.
Last time I had a flea, I found it within a few hours after it had bitten me about five or six times. This time, however, the fleas have held out. They've held fast through showers, changes of clothes, and shampoo. They've even managed to evade the comb I use whenever I shower. Last night I thought I had them. I nabbed one on my face, but I dropped it before I could get a good look (I knew by the feel, though). The second one I discovered on the bed where I'd been lying. It had wings which made me dubious until I gave it cause to jump. I tried to tear it apart with my nail, but it got away, and the cat's been scratching enough to make me suspicious.
I truly thought I might actually be free, after being plagued for a week.
But.
Tonight at work I felt the familiar aching itch begging to be scratched on my leg. A fresh bite! It was agonizing. I despair of being freed from this menace, at least until I wash with Dawn dish soap, which I am told is a good remedy. At least for dogs.
Last time I had a flea, I found it within a few hours after it had bitten me about five or six times. This time, however, the fleas have held out. They've held fast through showers, changes of clothes, and shampoo. They've even managed to evade the comb I use whenever I shower. Last night I thought I had them. I nabbed one on my face, but I dropped it before I could get a good look (I knew by the feel, though). The second one I discovered on the bed where I'd been lying. It had wings which made me dubious until I gave it cause to jump. I tried to tear it apart with my nail, but it got away, and the cat's been scratching enough to make me suspicious.
I truly thought I might actually be free, after being plagued for a week.
But.
Tonight at work I felt the familiar aching itch begging to be scratched on my leg. A fresh bite! It was agonizing. I despair of being freed from this menace, at least until I wash with Dawn dish soap, which I am told is a good remedy. At least for dogs.
11.02.2009
Little House On The Big Prairie
I took this shirt that was cute up top but waaaay too tight 'round my stomach, cut off the top, and sewed it (by machine) to a long length of soft fine jersey of a deep shade of blue. Now it's a very comfortable little dress, in keeping with the current styles.
Honestly though, I was more interested in making something comfortable. All these cute little babydoll tops always make my chest and shoulders look nice, but then they're tight the rest of the way down and it makes me self-conscious. Plus they're so tight all around, and made of such material, that my skin can't really breathe. Thus, the solution: take the part you like and add on to it, thereby making your own clothing, just like a prairie family.
If I made enough, maybe I could sell them online. Like on etsy.com, or something.
Honestly though, I was more interested in making something comfortable. All these cute little babydoll tops always make my chest and shoulders look nice, but then they're tight the rest of the way down and it makes me self-conscious. Plus they're so tight all around, and made of such material, that my skin can't really breathe. Thus, the solution: take the part you like and add on to it, thereby making your own clothing, just like a prairie family.
If I made enough, maybe I could sell them online. Like on etsy.com, or something.
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