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  1.  (10163.21)
    Been a quiet week.
    Dad bought a new car and through circumstances I was the first to drive it (heh).

    Tonight, went to the pub. Met a nice girl, spent much of the night talking to her. She let me walk her home, then twenty feet from her door told me she had a boyfriend who is an arsehole, so I should not get any closer to her house.
    Argh.
    I can always pick 'em. Explains why I've been single so long.
    •  
      CommentAuthordorkmuffin
    • CommentTimeAug 20th 2011
     (10163.22)
    @Glu, that anecdote is wonderful. I love it.
    •  
      CommentAuthorJay Kay
    • CommentTimeAug 21st 2011
     (10163.23)
    @glukkake

    Maybe it's the idea of Suicide Girl internet pr0nz that's making my brain no workee, but even after looking at the wikipedia page, I don't quite get how screen printing relates to porno shoots at all.

    Also, update on my previous post: Turns out my first day of the job isn't today, but NEXT Saturday, and I walked around aimlessly at the stadium for an hour for nothing. Ha ha ha ha ha. FML.
  2.  (10163.24)
    I've had a busy weekend. I went to a goth club, discovered that my new corset is awesome aside from a slight unfortunate tendency to split at the zipper (oops!) and hit on someone using half a packet of gum and a post-it note. Whether it was successful or not is yet to be determined. Then I went to a So Bad It's Good movie marathon, where I watched the Star Wars Christmas Special (DO NOT WATCH THE STAR WARS CHRISTMAS SPECIAL) (BUT SERIOUSLY WHY ARE THOSE WOOKIE DIALOGUE SCENES NOT EQUAL TO ANGRY HITLER IN YOUTUBE SUBTITLE LOLS) (BUT SERIOUSLY SERIOUSLY DO NOT WATCH THE STAR WARS CHRISTMAS SPECIAL), Megashark vs Giant Octopus and Dead Snow. The latter was actually not bad enough to be so bad it's good, it was... just sort of vaguely good :P Megashark, on the other hand, was BRILLIANTLY awful.

    Oh, and then I tried to organise a Zine workshop but nobody showed up. It was awkward.
  3.  (10163.25)
    I've had a productive weekend. I did some exercise stuff, which has been the next thing on my to do list, that I will totally get to, tomorrow, I swear, for a month or two.

    Then I met with the ex to talk about our daughter. That didn't go well. Apparently, the arrangement we'd discussed about six months ago was different in her head and in mine. We have half custody at the moment, which means the kid bounces back and forth from house to house during the week. That's not going to work when she starts school. My ex thinks I should move to a town with a great school system that is less than half an hour away from her and that she'll drive our daughter to that school on days she has her. Great theory (except the bit where that's insane), but I can't afford rent, daycare and child-support in a nice town. The only reason I can now is that I'm living in my mom's basement (the kid get's the real bedroom). We live over an hour appart, so if I can't afford to move, we'll have to go to court and have a nasty custody battle. I genuinely believe that my daughter is better off living with me, or I'd sign over custody and be done with it. Heck, the extra child support I'd pay would still be way less than it costs to take care of her half time, so I'd be financially ahead. But damn it, I want to be a good parent. Grrr. Things my get worse before they get better.

    After that ray of sunshine, I got some supplies for our camping trip with my best friend and his family next weekend. Then it was off to my bar to get some writing done while knocking off beers on my list. I'm now one beer away from the half-way point, with just under 90 days to finish. That mug will be mine. (@OldHat, sorry for blaming you for the bad beer I consumed. It's entirely possible I was a bit pissed.) I managed to finish a draft of the four issue comic story I'm doing. So, it was a good night.

    Today, I recorded a second guitar track on a song I'm writing and that filled it out nicely. I think all the recording for that one is done and it's just down to mixing. I threw out the orcestral stuff on a different song because it wasn't working and started over again. I'm making progress (although I think the cello has to go). And now I'm going to spend the evening laying around being lazy, trying not to think of the hellish (yet shortened... yay camping trip!) work week I have waiting for me.
    •  
      CommentAuthorFishelle
    • CommentTimeAug 21st 2011
     (10163.26)
    @glukkake Why not just use oil based ink? It seems like that's be the way to go. I mean, I know some folks that never even close their jars of ink because it doesn't dry. I haven't done any screen printing, but in my experience with relief printing, I've always used oil based ink, and once I even fell asleep in the studio, woke up 4-5 hours later, and my ink slab was still usable to print with. Or you could just use some not so great screens that you wouldn't mind tossing after the shoot. I dunno what you really have in mind here, but it seems like it would be possible.

    My week was pretty lame overall, but the weekend has been delightful. Nothing really to vent about tonight.
  4.  (10163.27)
    Fucked, is the word that would describe me now. I spend seven years in college, thinking that one day I would change things around, only to find I'm still stuck in the same place. I still live with my grandparents, still feel uncreative, and still feel stifled. I've been trying to find a job in the paralegal field, only to find that they want experience first. I've been trying to please my family too much. I've been trying to do things their way. I just want to do my own thing. I want to go back to school, do something creative, but at 25 I feel that's too late. What creative thing would I do, I don't know? I like film (a LOT), I like art, I like music, I just feel like I haven't found my niche. I want the fam to be proud of me, I want to do something empowering, but I feel like I'm being held back by some invisible force. I never imagined at 25, I'd still be working retail, no health insurance, still living with the grands, and still girlfriendless after three years.

    Sorry to bitch and bring down the party, I'd just know you would listen Whitechapel.
  5.  (10163.28)
    Last weekend I ended up taking part in a Pirate Treasure hunt. Five years ago, two friends of mine buried a pirate treasure chest for two others to find. One of these fellows invited me along. We arrived the night before the others at 2am, and then got lost wandering the woods for two and a half hours for what should have been a 20 minute hike. I blame the fact that we were relying on nothing but one lightsaber apiece for light.

    When everyone else arrived, there was a map with clues, an island to row to, pirate hats worn, adventure to be had.... and then there was the rain. The rain that did not stop. Rain so severe that it made more sense to run out of the tent naked when I had to pee. This seemed to run into problems when I discovered two of my friends out for a midnight cigarette, but then realized that nobody minded that I was naked and so I got to hang out standing naked in the pouring summer midnight rain, smoking cigarettes with two fellows I've known since I was 15.

    Seems the park rangers ran off with the treasure, and this we only realised after digging an amazingly massive hole. Sadly, I'd asked a friend to hold my glasses, who then forgot about that and went to row to shore, then capsized. So, my glasses are at the bottom of a lake somewhere.

    That means new fancy prism glasses are added on to the list of sudden financial crises: a $200 phone bill, a $300 electricity bill, etc etc etc.

    I spent the week at a friend's house at my hometown in upstate NJ, amazed and joyful at the cacophony of cricketsong at night, loving hanging out with awesome people, and hatching money making ideas.

    Dear Soviet Rocket: I am a freshman in college at 34 years old, and I've only had 7 (nonconsecutive) months of being called someone's girlfriend in the PAST TEN YEARS. You should not worry about approaching things "too late". You are doing fine.

    Last week I went to a party of art students for the first time. I don't think any of them knew that I was ten years older than most.

    Here is me from that night, wearing a polkadot dress:

  6.  (10163.29)
    @snafu: Damn. I hope you find a new job soon, and somewhere close so you don't have to move again.

    @Nil: Well bugger that sucks. I know that mentioning this is obvious and a long shot at the same time, but can your girlfriend get a second opinion from a different GP? I hope things improve and soon. Also, I enjoyed the cats dressed as batman link.

    @kahavi: I'm crossing fingers for you!

    @Flabyo: As frustrating as the situation is, the fact that people reacted to your criticisms positively means things will probably improve. I'm hoping it's sooner than later.

    @brittanica: Aw hugs. I think you can do it.

    @Rootfireember: I hope things are better already.

    @razrangel: Those fucking bad idea bears. Seriously. Part of me thinks it would be cathartic to make some bad idea bear figures and then beat the shit out of them. Not that I'd get around to it, but I'm enjoying the mental picture at least. Clearly you are talented, as your teachers/coaches seem to love you.

    @RobSpalding: Sorry to hear it. If it is any comfort, you aren't alone in having difficulties with singleness.

    @Soviet Rocket No. 9: Repeat after me, There is no shame in not having a fancy job at 25. Or living with family. Seriously. By the way, the entire moving out and making your own way is a very new world sort of thing. Traditionally, people lived with their family for generations, and if you visit non-Western cultures, you'll find that is still very common. Also, I'm 26, haven't finished college, still live with my parents, am very single and make pizzas. While I am working on moving out, I still think you're beating up on yourself too much. Also, this is so the thread for bitching. Woo bitching!

    @Rachael: The fun times sound very fun. If only your life wasn't so expensive? Also, in your photo, the girl on the left looks like she's got part of a spinal column on her necklace, though I'm fairly sure they are actually fake flowers and I'm just seeing things. Still, the idea of a spinal column necklace seems kind of cool.

    I'll get around to writing about my week eventually...
    •  
      CommentAuthortedcroland
    • CommentTimeAug 22nd 2011
     (10163.30)
    I haven't posted in one of these threads for probably two years or more. I sometimes read them to see how everyone in the community is doing, but being semi-dormant on a place like Whitechapel means you miss a lot of the little changes that happen from time to time and they build up. Hi everyone, I've been here for almost four years, and this place is very different and very the same as it was before.

    I fear I am disappearing up my own rectal cavity. My average thought process goes something like this: Consider a fact/idea! Examine. Come to conclusion. Assume that conclusion is only metaphysically possible in my own mind the way it is. Consider that this thought might make me a narcissist (or of narcissistic quality). Question legitimacy of own conclusion. Wonder for a while whether or not I could properly articulate my idea to a person without it losing all meaning. Consider that that assumes I am smarter than them. Hate self for being so aggrandizing. Sudden, inexorable need to share idea. Share idea with one or several friends. Have them say it's smart in some manner (anywhere from "That is SO interesting," to "Um...yeah."). Question whether they are just being polite in my own head. Conclude that I cannot know and it is arrogant to assume they are anything but genuine. Assume anyway that idea was bad. Move on to new idea.

    And the last part, with the social dimension? If I briefly consider the implications of that, the rabbit hole knows no end.

    I find more and more that either I am set up to fail in many regards, by myself or the simple circumstances of my life, or both, and that this is making me both more analytical and emotionally fragile. For example, I asked a girl on a date through an email. She said "yes," and I asked her what she liked to do. Fucking stoked, right? Like you are when that goes on. It has now been a day and a half with no response, so naturally I bring up the spreadsheet in my head of reasons why she would not respond in the usual interval, and the very consideration of the breadth of reasons she would not respond have crushed my heart and my excitement for her having said "yes" in the first place. This, I know, is fucking stupid and shouldn't bother me at all. However, rather than forget about it, get some sleep and wait patiently for a response, I am whining about it to you guys. And hoping that she's biding her time for some non-deplorable reason, and hope that my simple way of being was not what made her stop responding.

    I feel like my brain is putting me in feedback loops to drive me crazy. Maybe I'll write a really good book on the way down and end up homeless or dead by the age of 30. Many of my heroes ended up the same way, maybe a little older.

    So that's my life right now. Praying to nobody my new roommates don't hate me already and for some random girl I don't know to email me back.

    Also I don't drink, otherwise I would be very drunk forever at this point. I am understanding more and more why philosophers often drink themselves to death or go insane.

    Shit, people, sorry for the long post.

    Rachael, you look awesome in that dress and that sounds like it was an awesome time despite the loss of glasses. Though the disembodied hand and breast make that picture incredibly surreal.

    Rocket, you'll be fine. Buck up, man, everything's cool and you'll work it out. The discovery is going to be so much more satisfying with a harsh journey.

    Thank fuck posts are saved from reloading windows by accident.
    •  
      CommentAuthorFauxhammer
    • CommentTimeAug 22nd 2011
     (10163.31)
    So it turns out that my wife has hypothyroidism, which explains a lot of things that had been stressing her out (which, in turn, had been stressing me out). She's taking Synthroid (which, I find, I can only say in a Dalek voice--"PREPAAAAARE THE SYNTHROOOOIIIID FOR THE DOCTOOOOOOOR"), and we'll see if that helps things.
  7.  (10163.32)
    Alright I've got a tale of woe and high weirdness. It's got a stray cat, a terrible illness and a mysterious fire. With photos.

    After band practice one Friday about a month ago the guys who run the studio slammed the door behind us to keep out the stray cat that kept darting in to beg - tabby, nuts on him like the lower deck of the Harbour Bridge, skin and bones, eyes glued shut with grey pus.

    I tried not to think about it. Failed. Went back next day with a box of cat biscuits. He was a ball of rags asleep in some timber packing crates when I pulled up. My van was built in 1974 and it makes a racket and stink but he never budged. I opened the boot and picked up the box of biscuits and he was at my ankle.

    He was bleeding from the mouth and couldn't eat the biscuits. I watched him try at the dish a couple of times then gave him the moderately expensive roast chicken slices I'd gotten from the deli for my lunch. He just about took my finger with them.

    Me, I'll be 40 in December. I was a speed addict in the early 90s, smoked a couple of packs a day for 20 years, still have one episodically. I drink a six pack before dinner and a half bottle of wine after. I run flat out on the treadmill for 20 minutes three mornings a week and do 40 minutes of weights afterward, bench press 100kg in 3 sets of 15. I'm still carrying about 20kg extra from the booze.

    I took the kids to the dentist on the Monday of that week and stopping in to the health fund office afterward with the receipts I saw they had a heart check station in the foyer, I thought what the hell, let's have a look. Blood pressure 120/80, cholesterol and sugar both normal.

    My wife Lou has never smoked and drinks about 2 glasses of wine a year. I set her in an ambulance at 9:30 that night because her heart was skipping beats. It's happened before but this time it went on for a couple of hours. At first I was counting it in 5/4 time which is pretty screwy for something that has 4 ventricles. Then she walked down the hall and I checked again and it went 17, 3, 11, 2, 8, 5, 7, 3 - and then she said her arms were tingling and her chest was hurting and I picked up the phone.

    So she got home about 5:30 AM with a ream of ECG printouts and a referral to a cardiologist. It's a heart arrhythmia, which can have many possible causes, including having a Dilbert-esque boss, coincidentally. I'll say no more on that to avoid libel.

    I got up at 6:30 that Monday morning and made breakfast for the kids, got them dressed, made their lunches and walked them to school. Then I went home, slept till lunchtime, drove down and picked up Bolts - well, what would YOU call something with nuts like that? He accepted the food I gave him then walked into the cat-cage of his own accord and sat down. Started purring as I shut the door. I don't speak fluent Cat but I translated that as "Oh thank fuck, my ride's here. I was beginning to think you weren't coming. Home, James, and don't spare the horses."

    He had a lot of passengers. Fleas, scabies lice, worms, whatever microorganisms were in his eyes. The vet said he had some of the worst teeth he'd ever seen. $220 later I had a showbag full of pills and serums and a cat. Hooray for credit cards. There's going to be hell to pay for this later.

    I set him up on the back verandah because I didn't fancy explaining to the school how my kids came to get scabies.

    http://www.thirdangel.com/Bolts1.JPG

    Meet Bolts. He's no oil painting but it wouldn't be a cat of mine that didn't look like it had been sicked up by another cat. He does have lynx tufts and a lemur tail though.

    Apparently the guy who runs a business from the building adjacent to the crates where Bolts was sleeping "wants his cat back" and is "prepared to pay vet bills" to achieve this.

    Bolts was about 2 weeks from death when I took him in, according to the vet.

    So this guy who reckons he "owns" this cat had better hope that nothing ever spooks me into thinking he might have taken action against anyone on my manor, let alone me. If grief ever comes to the beautiful and utterly illegal venue I rehearse in I will turn over the vet report to the RSPCA with his name and address on it, so he'd better pray no-one ever grasses on us.

    Bolts is peachy now. He has a Thing about me, he'll come in a window if he hears my voice, and if I'm wearing my leathers he'll ride my shoulder like a pirate's parrot for half an hour at a time.

    He's a cat, not a petrie dish. If this stupid fucking prick wants to farm invertebrates he should go to Bunnings and get a polystyrene box. He can't have the cat.
    So I told the studio to tell him that he has my card so he can call me if he needs to be personally told to fuck off.

    It was Lou's and my 12th wedding anniversary yesterday so I brought my lovely wife something big and dirty, as requested. It was awkward driving home with it, I can tell you. 300 kg of topsoil. What? Did I miss something?

    OK so I also got her a bunch of irises and her favourite sav blanc, and made roast chook with carrots, parsnips, kipfler tatties and gravy.

    So then when I was getting it out the oven I slipped, and splashed hot fat on the floor, cupboard door and oven. I wiped it up but apparently not well enough. Later when I was going to bed I let Bolts in to sleep but no dice, he belted into the kitchen and did frantic laps making little squeaky barking noises and randomly licking surfaces, like, "Oh my God, Chief! I can't believe the readings I'm getting! It's like there was an EXPLOSION OF CHICKEN - "

    So I threw him back out. I swear nothing was on fire when I did that.

    So this is where it gets FUCKING WEIRD. Heard cat biff about 5:15 this morning, got up to call him in. Couldn't see the tarp that covers the barbecue. Turned on the outside light. Found this.

    http://www.thirdangel.com/omgwtfbbq.JPG??

    The BBQ hadn't been used since autumn, it was a clear still night that got down to about 12 degrees, the tarp was heavy waxed canvas and it was soaking wet after yesterday's rain.??It definitely wasn't on fire when I went to bed. This morning it was just scraps and ashes and it looks like we were lucky to avoid a gas bottle explosion.

    Either it was spontaneous combustion or the cat has been smoking.
    • CommentAuthorBerserker
    • CommentTimeAug 22nd 2011
     (10163.33)
    I'm loving my new job, but I'm always exhausted now. Always. I'm hoping the pitiful collection of sticks and rags I'm reduced to calling a body acclimates to the activity soon be cause I NEVER have time or energy left for drawing anymore, let alone sitting down with enough time to really learn something about this fucking sexy new software I've been given.

    And after today I'll probably have to start taking the BUS to work until we can get the car working right again, which is an extra hour or two less in every day. I don't even make $10 an hour. I should probably be doing something like drawing comics instead, but at this rate I'll never get over the hill before I end up under it.

    I also feel generally disliked around here, but that's probably a) just me, and b) totally justified.
    •  
      CommentAuthorFoamhead
    • CommentTimeAug 22nd 2011
     (10163.34)
    No best wishes or condolences needed for this, truly.

    I just wanted to say a word or two, in appreciation, about my step-uncle Ron, who died last night, aged 80-something. We weren't close, in fact I hadn't seen or spoken to him for at least 25 years and I won't be going to his funeral. No biggy - this is the only abiding memory I have of him and, for me, Whitechapel feels like a more appropriate place to say this than any real chapel would.
    Anyway, as small, trivial and overblown as it may sound, Ron was the responsible adult who, probably after drawing the short straw, took me to the original Odeon cinema in Manchester (including a 90 minute queue virtually the whole way around the building) when I was eight years old to see Star Wars. My step-brother and Ron's son, who came along too, both liked the movie but, for better or for worse, it was me who emerged utterly blown away. If it hadn't been for Ron, I almost certainly would never have heard of this place, Warren Ellis, Si Spurrier or any of the other things I mainline for escapism and joy to this day.
    Ron never knew any of this; he led a long and very full life so I doubt he'd even remember that one afternoon. To him, it was probably just another three-hour burden from the never-ending list of responsibilities he had to perform as a parent/uncle/responsible adult. But this still makes him a major, if inadvertent, part of the three or four things in life I can point to and say they permanently changed it.
    That's all. Thanks for the indulgence.
    • CommentAuthor256
    • CommentTimeAug 22nd 2011 edited
     (10163.35)
    @Kay -
    he has my card so he can call me if he needs to be personally told to fuck off
    This is a great line. Hope yr mrs is faring well. Keep us updated on the cat/mystery fires/etc., won't you?
  8.  (10163.36)
    @tedcroland: That sounds like depression. And it's hitting you hard. If you can get yourself to a doctor/counselor/etc, that might be a huge help. Because seriously, I know that thought process, and most of it is lies, and if you can manage it, life gets so so much better.
    •  
      CommentAuthoroldhat
    • CommentTimeAug 22nd 2011
     (10163.37)
    @Soviet Rocket No. 9: 26 years-old here and still living with the folks due to various and complex reasons. I constantly feel shamed by this fact. Seriously, I've had breakdowns devoted to this fact because it seems like my ability to live on my own = my own personal worth as an individual. But the thing is, that's bullshit and you really don't have to feel that way. Now more than ever, when jobs are INCREDIBLY hard to find and many people are finding that they have to move back to the parents while they look and many others are paralyzed in place, stuck with not moving out just because Things Are Shit right now. Cheer up. It's gonna happen.

    This past week has been...pretty damn good. I am officially, after being stuck in the purgatory of a low-paying job that I couldn't leave, On The Job Market, having been given a blessing to look for something else and in the meantime staying with my current job and taking a raise in pay so I can actually save up for things and take in further bonuses when the company takes on new clients. Feeling really good about this because, as I said, I can actually start saving.

    This weekend was filled with too much drinking...far too much drinking. Yesterday and today seems to be devoted to feeling dreadful not eating and leaking in ways that terrify me.

    This week...jeez. This week will be pretty big. The Fan Expo is coming up, but I'm finding it hard to get excited because the ONE PERSON I wanted to see (John Waters) will only be signing autographs on the one day I can't make it. This devastates me because I have a first edition copy of his autobiography "Shock Value" that I really wanted signed. Alas, alas. But there are also comics. And nerd speed-dating, which I signed up for on a lark. And friends. And Avatar.
    •  
      CommentAuthorJay Kay
    • CommentTimeAug 22nd 2011
     (10163.38)
    @Soviet @oldhat -- Yeah, unfortunately I'm in the same place too. I'm 22, and I want to get out of my parent's house pretty damn soon--if not to feel like a worthy adult, then to at least save what little sanity I have left. I love my folks but YEESH.
    •  
      CommentAuthorOsmosis
    • CommentTimeAug 22nd 2011
     (10163.39)
    Yo, @Fauxhammer - I've a family history of hypothyroidism (although I dodged that gene), and I can say that, now that your wife has been diagnosed and is on the meds, things will dramatically improve.
    •  
      CommentAuthorallana
    • CommentTimeAug 22nd 2011
     (10163.40)
    This makes me sound like a cunt, but I'd like to see a poll of just how many Whitechapelians (Whitechaplians? Whitechaplains?) live with their parents.
    Wait. There's gonna be nerd speed-dating?! Best idea ever.

    @Rachael, great dress.