The obligatory journal. Thought I'd update to tell everyone that and I will be at Reactor '09, in case anyone else is going. If you mention to me that you are, I'll make sure to look for you and wave. Or hide. Depending on if you are one of those kind internet people who terrify me.

When we get back, an official report.

News of interest:

-In artistic ventures, ~Feigning-Ignorance and I are doing multiple shoots for her photography class. Shoots which, of course, require us to go to the part of town with the best vintage stores and the best ice-cream on weekends.

-People are generally nice and I should stop worrying about why they act as if they're not.

-Ugggh. College stuff. I'm not doing as much personal art as I'd like; my zombie comic has gotten so behind that, unless I just start the whole thing over, it won't be representative of where I am artistically at all (read as: it will suck and it will show). However, I am applying to the school of my dreams. Literally, my dreams (this is not always a good thing. Last night I dreamed that Richard Dawkins was a pimp and he kept making me get away from my school work to go and be a prostitute for him)(plus, my dreams more or less unfailingly contain some sort of horrific violence). But my dreams about this school were good. Barring the cat-tadpoles that had to be eliminated from the grounds for the balance of nature there to be restored, good.

All of my classes this year, save one, will probably require quite a lot of my attention. I may not post very often because, as sort of touched on above, I don't have time for a lot of personal projects (imagining all the make-up work I will have to do to miss one day for a convention makes me cringe). My outlets right now include doodling 40s archetypes in my sketchbook and not finishing them, getting angry for no reason, trolling my Fashinz Merchandizing is Srs Bzness U Gaiz class (funny stories from this; I'll tell you if you want me to)(nothing makes me RAGE more than '80s fashion,' which in and of itself should be considered an oxymoron), building umbrella robots, and skulking around pretending to be Nikola Tesla. Good times.

But! See you (or not) at Reactor! I'll report back (perhaps in comic form, because that is how I roll)!

And before I forget, tagged me in this neat little survey and it would be a shame not to fill it out.

1.Who is your celebrity crush?
Dr. Steel.

2.What are you most excited for?
Reactor! Tomorrow! College!

3.What was the last thing you bought?
Glossy photo paper, a 'Miskatonic University' tank-top (I plan to study Medieval Metaphysics or Non-Euclidean Geometry or the Book of Eibon there, or take a semester off to go visit Innsmouth) (duhurr).

4.What was the cutest thing you've seen today?
[link]
It's a plushie of the common cold! :3 It's giant! My friend sells these at her work and I'm sorely tempted to procure one! I'm not sure whether to flee or to hug!

5.Does the weather affect your mood?
I like some weather (fog, snow, rain, and crisp, clear days) more than other weather (limp mugginess), if that counts.

6. tell me 5 things you can't live without:

Aside from the obvious needs for living (food, air, shelter, whatever):

1. The Invention of Everything Else, Neutral Milk Hotel, Amanda Palmer, Ethiopian food, steampunk (all come together because they keep me going equally)
2. My family and friends and kitty
3. Good reading material, history/psychLOLogy/steampunk
4. Joy and zest
5. Internet internet internet

7.Say something to the person who tagged you:
O HALO THAR

A meteor shower on my birthday.

Goggles, boots, and pastries because gloves are SO last year.

This sounds incoherent. It does, and I'm sorry. I try to avoid over-sharing, and end up sounding unnecessarily cryptic in doing so. I'm not trying to be deep, I promise. I'm trying to cram in as much update-related information as I can, and still not tell you all about my personal life.

I'm in a good place right now. I'm eighteen, and very happy to be alive. Breathing isn't so bad, and kind of fun if you do it over and over again. I'm lucky, but I've had enough of a brush with dubiousness to be appreciative. At least, I hope, appreciative enough.

I don't believe in magic, not really, but the more you examine every day events and break them down, the more wondrous they seem. Public transportation, street preachers, live showings of Rocky Horror with dance parties beforehand, parfaits, gentlemanly robots, the kindness of strangers, heartbeats.

I don't have to touch you to know that we can have a great time. And I think that's okay.

PS--
If you like my drawings, please vote on my t-shirt design on Threadless! It doesn't cost anything but a few seconds of your time. If I get enough votes, my design will become a t-shirt for real.
Vote here:
[link]
The original:
[link]
Another t-shirt (still currently pending approval) that I made:
[link]
You can see this one in my gallery too.

Oh, so. Hey. Junior year is over. I think I might be better at being a person than I was when I started. But that's subjective really. I actually make quite a good robot.

Today I wore my comedically oversized blue sweater, wandered through intersections, and bought myself a pocketwatch that does not work but looks very cunning. It was a long walk back to my house, and I am growing my hair long, and trying not to gouge at my skin, and smiling more. As one does.

It's nice to step from behind the glass sometimes. The spears will find your organs every time, with or without separation from their world, so you may as well realize respective humanity anyway. That the spears thrown were once held by arms, and that you yourself possess means not only to craft spears of searing power but to pierce others in lethal and detrimental ways. And oh how you have, whether you know so or not. Detriment! The answer is that there is no answer, and that answer may only be reached both by having been pierced, piercing, and reaching out to shield everyone, no matter if they are helpless or helpful or protected or protectors or Cruel, from the torrent.

So the school year hurtles to its inevitable close in a month or so. Until then, I busy myself with standardized tests, AP finals, AP tests proper, and other class finals that come later because they are not, in fact, APs. Foregoing such inconsequential frippery as, say, human contact, sleep, and sunlight.
And volunteering, although the presence of said tests over the weekends (usually Saturday mornings) cuts down on time at the local lovely art league (and of course I feel bad because I don't want to give off the impression that I'm shirking my duties).
And drawing my increasingly bizarre dreams (a girl in art class politely asked what nature of drugs I was on upon examining my sketchbook).
And reading, when I get the time (has anyone read 'The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao'? That's next on my list).
And thrifting (a poofy wedding dress from the 20s? YES PLEASE).
And writing.
And working, when I have time, on my dear darling pet project comic.
And and and. And yet, even in the face of such the usual whirlwind of priorities, I have not broken in too much. Whether it should be likened to a bridge or a dam is the question, you see, but even my own brand of admittedly histrionic arm-flailing is... mellowed? That's not maybe the right word. Skirting is more appropriate. Perhaps, Cthulu-like, it lurks underneath and the minute I slow down to realize what I am doing and why, it will come rushing back up and engulf me. Om nom nom nom.
Non-verbose version:
Although lots is going on, I am not as wonky as I thought I would be.

Maybe it's just the comparative stress getting to me, but the world is also increasingly, terrifyingly beautiful. The trees look like popcorn. The dandelions stick up over the green grass. There are bunnies. Bunnies! My friends are the kindest people in the entire world. I have no idea why they would bother hanging out with ME and go over to my house to eat muffins and drink soy milk (the clue to my question may lie here, but I hope not), or why the whole school isn't trying to get on their collective good side. People are human (surprise!), and so it's okay if they mess up. It's okay if you mess up.
It is okay.
Okay.
Neil Gaiman once said something to the amount of that, as you get older, you realize more and more that clichés are sort of true.
I think that's happening to me.
I don't actually mind that much.

Darlings of the anonymous tubes!
I'm updating the art journal now-- something a little perfunctory, apologies. Nothing really new to say. It just looks as if next week will be making me extraordinarily busy and so, you see, an update may be in order while I still can make one? Yes? Yes.
Thanks to the resources in the AP Art Studio room, prettying up the old (and newer) pages of the Maton Project (newcomers: an anachro-Russian zombie steampunk science thriller), is a far more expedient process. I need to scan three more of the old pages in, or re-do them completely (they kind of suck), but other than that, all we need is the dialogue and they'll be posted. See, I get to use them for my concentration. Because I'm that phantasmagorical.
Uhm.
What else.
Friends and I are making a movie. Auditions for parts will be held, although everyone is guaranteed a part, I just need to see where they all go. Then allocation of funds, then shooting, then distribution. I'm not sure if I'll post a link to it here when it's finished; I know better than to trust the internet. But still. Maybe you guys would enjoy it?

Upcoming newstuff/activities/things needing to be done, in no particular order:

-Mai, The Girl With Tentacles for Arms (A Pellucid Analogy)
A short comic/illustrated short story about a beekeeper named Mai who has tentacles for arms. She keeps the tentacles under control with steel gloves, but her boyfriend breaks up with her. Members of the Cthulu Project ("Navigating the Space Between Awe and Horror"), a 'tentacle pride' organization, urge her to cast off her gloves and revel in the sliminess. Rich O'Keefe, a blustery, ruddy pundit, blames his errant pants tentacle for his adulterous dalliances. Kids, in an attempt to be cool, stuff noodles up their sleeves. As it goes.

-A Poem Involving Le Sacre Du Printemps
Because that ballet is bizarre, man.

-Collaborations, Etcetera
The ongoing comic with Emily S., art trades, requests (I will draw stuff for whomever if he or she asks nicely enough), the occasional commission.

-Superjail fanart
Because Mary-Sues and furries and Mary-Sue furries shouldn't have all the fun.

-The Aforementioned Maton Project

-Building A Mothaf*kkin' TESLA COIL
My next big project. Should be fun if I do it right. And, relatedly...

-Dreaming of Steampunk Outfits
Oh please someone just shoot me now this is so pathetic. I do NOT need goggles. Shiny, golden-brassy goggles with cogs and stuff hmmKEEP ME AWAY FROM THEM. And for the sake of everything bright and holy, let me nowhere NEAR boots, or vesty things, or top hats, or or or or--
I'm not even going to go into my love of the 50s.
Or, uh, the 40s.
Or the 60s.
Damnit, my anachronism knows no bounds. I need to be concentrating on school and comics and writing projects, not fantastical contraptions, or alternate realities where I'm secretly a super-cute inventor girl who's gonna ride off into the sunset on a steam-powered blimp with SKY PIRATES WHEEEE.
Gag.

-Not Messing Up Junior Year
Good times, high school is.