Last week, I said I would draw anything anyone asked. People asked, and I did.
Thank you very much for all the kind, thoughtful comments. Your words are my fuel. I’ll be back in May. Don’t forget about me. I swear I shall return.
(Be more specific next time, Dee.)
I’ll return, and my posts will have 33% more explosions to appeal to the hip, young demographic. See you in May!
I keep getting in trouble with my English teachers for being too mean. This has been going on for a while.
There’s something very uncollegy about the check-plus, check, check-minus system. Like they’re afraid to tell us if something is good or bad.
Like we’re children.
In my early-level courses, I was grateful for the sugarcoating. Writing is a vulnerable act, and early on encouragement is probably more important than honesty.
After a while, I began to distrust this plastic layer of niceness.
Now it’s reached the point where I completely distrust anything positive about my work.
The problem with English majors is that they’re goddman sensitive. Everyone’s got some common problem with a simple solution, but instead of trying to solve the problem they expect the universe to change around them.
I wrote all this last week. If it reads as a condemnation of people feeling bad for themselves then good – I fooled you. I also fooled myself. That’s what I was really trying to do.
But you can’t run away forever, and it looks like things have finally caught up to me.
Oftentimes when I make fun of things, it’s because I’m trying to expel something I see in myself. That’s what I was trying to do with the first half of this post, but I just couldn’t finish it.
I’ve been posting every Thursday for a while now, but I missed last week because I was staring at my computer, wondering what was standing in my way.
I like to think of myself as the type of person who is in control of their emotions, but that’s only because I know I’m not. My outside behavior is a product of carefully maintained self-manipulation.
I don’t think this is unusual, and everyone does it to some degree, but for me it’s a constant process. When I see people acting in complete disregard of their own insignificance it enrages me.
I’m going to try to be more empathetic.
I lament advertisements.
Trust me, I understand why they exist. I understand the need for people to sell their product, and I understand the best way to garner positive feedback for something is to subconsciously relate it to something people already like. I get that, and I lament it.
That’s right! I bought the energy drink! Thinking I was immune to advertisements is what made me so vulnerable to them.
The conscious mind is what gets all the attention – it looks all glamorous because it’s what makes us better than ants or rockpiles, but we can learn a lot more from focusing on the subconscious mind — the things we do when we don’t have a real reason to do them.
When you start to try and pinpoint the reasons behind your action, you’ll find you often can’t come up with anything satisfactory. Instinct is a warm-bellied master, but he feeds you gruel. The void chills the heart, but the meals are sweet.
I’ve noticed WordPress has started to post ads on the bottom of my posts. This isn’t my doing. If you want to remove the ads you have to pay WordPress 30 dollars a year. I’m not going to do this. I failed Financial Mathematics, but I know making negative money on something is a bad thing.
I don’t like ads, especially when I don’t get any off the top. Please bear with me.
I’m back in North North America until school starts up. Canada is nice place to vacation, because everyone does their best to ignore you, especially if you’re the kind of person who looks a little troublesome.
I went to see a movie with Sister One. It was more difficult than you’d think, because in Canada, days that are close to holidays count as holidays.
In order to travel to the movie, we took this magical train not available in Real America called the Skytrain. Cars are the transportation of land, airplanes are the transportation of the air, and the Skytrain is transportation of the middle.
In case you couldn’t figure out what a Skytrain is by the name or that helpful diagram, a Skytrain is a train whose tracks are suspended in the sky rather than bolted into the ground.
A lot of Canada’s culture is based around doing the opposite of whatever Real America is doing. It’s like those teenage boys who hate Justin Bieber so much that they pay $500 dollars to go to his concert to throw an empty water bottle at him. Justin Bieber doesn’t care where the money comes from. All he cares about is that people keep saying his name. (YOU’RE WELCOME FOR THE FREE PUBLICITY, JUSTIN BIEBER’S MARKETING TEAM.)
I always enjoy my time here, but I think I’m about ready to return to Real America, where the only Canadians you see pretend like they don’t hate you.