How awesome is this?! There's a piece of my artwork on someone's body! My friend asked me to design her tattoo for her, and for her birthday - she got it done.

I feel so happy. :) And incredibly honored.

...I have something horrible to admit.

I'm bored.

I'm bored with manga.

I'm bored with anime.

I'm bored with fanfiction.

I'm... bored.

Ugh.

Anyone have recommendations? This cannot go on!

I swear... though, facebook is the best way to find me. I can access that easily by phone, so you get more current updates there.

:P

A happy late mother's day to all the lovely ladies on my flist!

So... Georgette, my old cell, died so badly they couldn't even pull the numbers from her.

Sasha, my new phone, is without telephone numbers.

Please be kind and give me your numbers again. <3 Comments are screened.

The day before yesterday an odd awareness overtook my normal sense of logic. I was driving home from the bank, and as I neared the entrance to my community, my foot decided to ignore the instructions my brain sent to make a right and instead chose to accelerate. I sped past the entrance, and the slow out of state driver, and kept going. I didn’t have a particular destination in mind; I only knew that I didn’t want to stop just yet.

Of course, my small flight of freedom ended rather quickly as I knew I was just going to waste gas, so the money-minded part of me forced me to take the next right. Even so, a little bit of rebellion urged me to drive down the road, and follow it until it ended. It was a short drive, the road curving around the Hyatt before dead-ending, but I felt somewhat elated in the trip.

Living the suburban life has forced me into a routine that is so repetitive I begin to fear for my sanity. I understand that I am very fortunate; nevertheless, I cannot help but to affirm that the 9-5 lifestyle isn’t one that is suited for me. There is no variance. There is no surprise, nor a fluctuation in the rhythm that makes me look towards tomorrow with anticipation. My steps are always even and carefully measured, neither lasting longer than the other, the syncopation of my life remaining ever constant.

I felt euphoric, so much so that I almost decided to skip the entrance home again; and even more so when my gas gage remained right where it had before my little spur of the moment expedition. Pulling into my parking spot was distressing, and I let the rumble of my engine tell me when it was time to turn off my car.

Yesterday, as I was leaving for home, I saw a coworker walking towards the bus stop. Without barely giving it proper consideration, I was already waving him over with a big grin and a head bob towards the empty passenger seat. He was surprised, asking me if Bell Towers [his destination] would be on my way home, and I was happy to respond that I lived across the street. He asked me if I lived across the street from Bell Towers, and pulling out the spot, I joyfully informed him that I lived across the street from the store. Bell Towers is about 25 minutes away and obviously out of the way for me, but I was eager to have a destination that put some distance between me and my everyday view.

On the way we got to talk about a multitude of things. He used to live in Las Vegas, and as he’s informed us on a constant basis, is dying to go back. We talked about how he’s met the lead singer for The Killers [my favorite band], and that his cousin is the drummer for Papa Roach. We discussed the technicalities of driving a stick-shift car, and he told me that if he ever got one again, he wouldn’t mind teaching me to drive it. He told me about how he used to be in two bands, playing drums on one and the bass on the other, and I reminisced on how much I missed being part of the choir. The drive was entirely too short, and I was disheartened by having to let him out; it meant that my purpose in being here was over, and that I had to go back home.

The drive back took a little longer. It was around four o’clock and Obama had been in town around noon to speak – the road was full of supporters who were eager to get home with smiles on their faces. The song “Shut Up and Drive” from Rhianna seemed to work its way into my head, and I blared the radio as loud as I dared to help numb the fact that I was stuck in traffic. Returning home left me with the same feeling I had the day before, and I remembered the epiphany I had on Monday. Simply put, with no elegance in structure or flowery words: I was bored.

Not the kind of bored that you could alleviate with a quick game of cards or night out with friends. Not the kind of bored that would diminish with reading a new book, or even a change in job title. I was bored of this life. The 9-5 grind was draining my very soul, and the prospect of having to start it all over again the next day almost made me physically ill. I wonder if it’s really of my own volition that I have fallen into this appalling humdrum cycle. I take pride in my “No Regrets” mind frame – believing adamantly that my life is mine through my choosing, and not through some destiny or fate.

So keeping that sharp reminder of my morals in mind, I wake up again at six am, and feel my body ache and my mind die. I follow my previous day’s footsteps - always even and carefully measured, neither lasting longer than the other; the syncopation of my life seemingly ready to remain an ever constant mundane symphony.

Here’s hoping for a year strayed from the beaten path, and the start of a daring new adventure.

I am exhausted, hungry, and my hair feels like crap - but I feel great! I'm in the process of moving into my own apartment and haven't felt so excited in a long time! It's my own place, people! *glee*

I just look around it and start smiling. :3

A little look on some of the crap I do everyday. :P

( Antics )

:P

Dear Mr. Sam Soucy,

I’m sure of all the people to cry for you, you would have never expected me to be one as well. We’ve known each other for a short time – around two and a half years, yet you were always one of my favorite people. I loved your dry sense of humor and sarcasm. You had a voice of experience that I respected; and I loved that you always asked me to help you on the computer. Even if I was extremely busy, I always tried to help you as best I could – because you weren’t someone who worse a false mask. You were who you were, and people could love it, or hate it.

The best thing was that we had our own “thing.” Every morning we tried to say “Good Morning” to each other at least three times before noon. I loved that so much, because no one really takes the time to do that. Even if everyone looked at us funny, we smiled at each other and understood.

Yesterday you were excited to tell me that the little trick I discovered worked, and I was glad but not feeling all that great so I couldn’t celebrate that small victory. Also, we didn’t get our full good mornings, only getting to two. At least we got a “Good Afternoon” in before you left.

Today… I found out that you died. I was told that this morning, your wife found you dead in bed.

Though I’m glad it seems you passed away in your sleep – it breaks my heart to know that we’ll never say good morning again. We’ll never sit down to eat lunch together, and chat about politics and corporate idiots. We’ll never get to figure out that damn Outlook Email system together, or walk through how to attach files to outgoing messages.

I’m sorry I didn’t spend more time with you yesterday. I’m sorry we couldn’t finish our three greetings. I’m sorry we never got to finish talking about how life was back then, and how to live the best we can now. I’m sorry that I can’t think of more things to be sorry about right now – but I’m sure they’re there.

I hope that you really did pass peacefully, and I hope that your body can rest now.

You were a great man, and I feel truly honored to have had you as one of my coworkers.

May you rest in peace, and for the last time...

Good Morning, Sam.

Good Morning, Sam.

Good Morning, Sam.

Boo yah, bitches.

Dude... I just got Kwazi.

He's HUGE.

I think I've gone blind.

He's got an 18.4" screen, and is just... massive. @_@

But, long story short, I'M BACK ONLINE!

Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to take a moment to thank you for your kind thoughts throughout this difficult time in my life. For the past two and a half months, Toby has been fighting for his life. He was airlifted numerous times, given a keyboard transplant, and has had difficult bouts of amnesia since he fell ill.

This afternoon at approximately 4:07PM eastern standard time, Toby the Toshiba Satellite laptop passed away.

He went as quietly as he could, hard drive whirling loudly before giving to a final, sudden silence.

The doctors apologized, informing me that they did all that could be done.

Toby... I will miss you. You were the best laptop I could have ever had to have been my first... and I hope that whatever parts are still good are donated to other needy electronics.

RIP my friend... and know, that your spirit lives on... in Kwazi.

He who has been chosen as your replacement.



You left me in good hands Toby... fairwell.

( Click Me )

Yes? No...?

;D

...the depression is intense.

Toby had to be rushed to the hospital yesterday. The doctor says it's going to be an overnight visit for a couple days due to the increased number of patients, but he hopes the case isn't serious enough for him to be air rushed to a bigger facility.

Toby!! I miss you!!

8 for 8.

Seriously.

I need to find a field ripe for frolicking.

In order for my sister to attend her school, we need about an extra $30,000 per year.

Any takers?

...no?

Didn't think so.

Putting my high school aside, I have always had immense respect for the Spartans of old. Though not well known to be people of many words, they were consider a force to be both admired and respected.

That being said, they also had an amazing sense of word play and dry wit that I wish was still existent today.

This is what I mean...

One famous example comes from the time of the invasion of Philip II of Macedon. With key Greek city-states in submission, he turned his attention to Sparta and sent a message: "If I win this war, you will be slaves forever." In another version, Philip proclaims: "You are advised to submit without further delay, for if I bring my army into your land, I will destroy your farms, slay your people, and raze your city." The Spartan ephors sent back a one word reply: "If."

Subsequently, both Philip and Alexander would avoid Sparta entirely.

Another one, which was used in 300, is...

The Spartan Dienekes was told the Persian archers were so numerous that when they fired their volleys, their arrows would blot out the sun. He responded with “So much the better, we'll fight in the shade”.

I find myself enamored with laconic phrases.

I have joined the ranks of others who have committed such crimes, and today - I feel sadden by the thought that I am no longer innocent of such acts.

Today, at approximately 4:45am, I killed.

Going 50 on a road that shall remain nameless, I took an innocent life.

...

I KILLED AN ARMADILLO!! *ANGST*

AND TO MAKE MATTERS WORSE, WHEN I MADE IT TO TURN INTO MY COMMUNITY - I RAN OVER A SNAKE!!

WTF?!?!

ARE ALL MANNERS OF CRITTERS AND CREATURES COMING OUT FOR SUICIDE-BY-TIRES?!

/depression