everything is fine

I really like movie soundtracks. I was thinking about it the other day. I feel like I've missed out on a lot of really good cinematic experiences because I didn't sit in a theater and hear which ever iconic theme play. Like Star Wars. I saw Star Wars when they re-released the original trilogy, but the significance of the experience didn't hit me until later. It's like hearing the Superman theme play before Superman Returns. I never got the opportunity to hear that anthem blasting in a theater until then. Or Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull, which sucked. But at least I got to hear the theme--for myself--in the theater. Or Casino Royale. Waiting an entire James Bond movie--which was totally worth it--to hear the theme I already knew so well. I'm really sure what it is I'm getting at, but in an incoherent way movie soundtracks have a significant emotional impact on me. Also, I just really fucking like listening to them. I feel like my brain is meltin...

Not that I am--or ever was--a particularly unshapely guy, I'm starting to feel pretty out of shape. Not grossly so, mind you, but just maybe a little mushy on the edges. And I'll be honest: I do not like it. The other day I ate an obscene amount of food and was still feeling overly full well into the next day. Then, when I didn't feel so full, I felt sore. Sore. I ate so much food that my body was sore . That, I think, is pretty terrible. I mean, damn . Who the hell gets sore from eating food? I do, apparently, and I am ashamed. I'm going to start exercising some more, though. And by exercising some more , I of course mean I'll start exercising period. Because I actually don't make it out to the gym anymore. I got some pretty radical swimsuits though, so I hope that's enough of a kick in the dick in the balls to start swimming. Swimming regularly. And running. And I need to go mountain biking. And rock climbing. All I'm saying is that ...

It feels a lot like I'm losing my struggle against every day. All my time just sort of disappears and I never really feel like doing anything. Like drawing or writing. And those are things I need to do. Also, studying. The year is just catching up to me, I guess. I can feel it in my increasingly slouchier posture. I thought I already fixed that, too. Just a few more weeks. I tried to pee the other day, but I had a problem. I couldn't find the fly to my boxers. So I searched, frantically, to find it. It's certainly normal for it to shift one way or the other during the day, but I couldn't find it. Oh no , I panicked. My boxers don't have a fly anymore. In the end I had to pull everything down to go about my urgent business. I later found out that I had been wearing them backwards the whole day. And I realized something. If you take something for granted long enough, you are bound for disappointment. Clothing yourself is a lot like maintaining a relat...

I have no idea what constitutes good writing. Is it proper grammar and spelling? A strong sense of eloquence and erudition? It's honesty, I guess. You have to write honestly. About honest things. Man, who even knows. I don't. I haphazardly string incoherent thoughts together before I fall asleep and somehow that qualifies as good writing. So if I tried , I could be a great writer?

This medication was prescribed because it will help me. It'll help improve the quality of my sleep so that I don't feel awful during the day. It'll help me start feeling pretty good again. It'll help me feel better, not that I feel particularly terrible. I've had it for, oh, a couple of weeks at this point yet I haven't taken any of it. Why haven't I taken it? Because I am a self-saboteur. Because I don't take care of myself. Because I'm afraid it makes me weak. Because I'm afraid it'll become a crutch. Because I'm afraid of medication in general. No, because one of the side effects is possibly wetting the bed. I don't want to piss all over my bed during the night. I feel like that won't really improve the quality of my sleep. It's just apprehension, really. And I've already been set straight on this whole business, which is why I now find myself staring down two doses of this stuff and setting an alarm. It...

I saw The Hurt Locker the other day. I actually quite enjoyed it. I was worried that the whole we don't film movies with tripods anymore and we like fast zooms would ruin it for me, but it wasn't to the point where I had to close my eyes or leave for a few minutes to steady myself. Like District 9 did. But either way, the last bit really stuck with me. He tells his son that you start life loving everything around you, completely fascinated by everything. And then, he continues, when you grow up you find out you love fewer things until you realize maybe you only love one or two things. Or maybe just one thing. I'm finally starting to figure things out. I, near the end of my junior year in college, have finally declared a major. No longer am I an undeclared third-year geoscience student. No, I am officially a general geology student going for a Bachelor's of Science. I even know how long it'll take me to graduate from college. I'm actually going to ...

I don't know about all of this religious stuff but according to this guy, I have the Spirit inside of me now. I opened myself to the Lord and now I'm on my way to knowing the Word. I don't feel anything though. He said as long as I said the prayer it would be sincere, but I don't know if it was sincere or not. I guess I just need to do more thinking about it. I don't really want to think about difficult things like that right now. Difficult things like faith and the future and things like that. Because who even knows what to do with that. I kind of just want to hang out and watch Batman. And I really just have no drive to write about anything. I just need to think about stuff.

So I may or may not be freaking out about college at this point, and by may or may not I of course mean absolutely am . I mean, I'm just totally fucked. I have so many requirements as yet unfulfilled. It's awful. I just feel so lost and unprepared--and all of a sudden, too. I'm so behind on my geology plan--my fucking major --that it's pathetic. In fact, I haven't even declared a major yet, apparently. I'm wrapping up my third year as an undeclared geosciences student. There's just something wrong with that. And I've barely even considered pre-medical requirements. Recommendation letters? Three of them? From who? I don't know any of my professors well enough to ask them for anything. I don't have any hospital volunteering stuff. I'm not, like, the president of some organization. I don't even think I'm in any organizations. I don't go to UT Grotto meetings anymore. I don't even know when they are. For fuck...

It's bizarre, I think, to realize something like that. To sit there eating my blueberry pancakes and suddenly come to that realization. I just watched a family fall apart. I saw a family completely disintegrate over the course of a week. My dad told me my mom and her sister are like gasoline and fire. "They're just waiting." And now, with no parental ties to keep them together, all of the siblings split. A weekend was all it took for that part. My mom and my aunt won't ever speak again. And my uncle? My uncle spent most of his best years taking care of his parents--my grandparents. My mom moved out of state, my aunt moved to a different city, but he stayed and lived with both of them. He took care of his mom when she got sick with her cancers and degenerative addictions and whatnot. His hair, what's left of it, is completely gray. He married and divorced once, before he dropped everything to take care of his parents. He's still single. When ...

This is something I feel very strongly about. So strong are my emotions about it, in fact, that I have haphazardly drafted this singular post about it on the fly. I hope, for your sake, that you are seated as I deal with this incredibly important social issue and say controversial things--the likes of which give women the vapors. Shorts. I fucking hate shorts. I hate them because you can't look cool in them. Think about it. Have you ever seen an action hero save the world wearing shorts? No. Action heroes wear pants. Men wear pants. People who save the world wear pants. Pants, pants, pants. Nobody wears shorts excepts, like, stoners, lazy guys, and dudes. And bros. Those archetypes do not do adventurous things. Indiana Jones? Pants. Robocop? Pants. Flapjack? Pants. Bear Grylls? Pants. Australian stereotypes? Shorts. Australia really likes to try to censor their internet content. That doesn't sound so awesome and/or manly to me. To prove my conclusion that shorts a...

What a weekend. I mean, I don't really know what else to say besides that. It started off great. Ashley and I spent some time together after having dated for a year. That was nice. We ate a whole cake in less than a day. But it was a damn good cake. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting. Like, damn . Does cake get any better than that? No, probably not. And then both of my mom's parents died. Nobody really saw that coming, so it's been a rough time trying to sort everything out amidst people being people (read: disgusting, selfish animals) and people being stupid (read: people). And then I got sick and had a great time waiting in the lobby of the St. David's Emergency Department. Nobody else was there for any obvious sort of medical emergency, and that made me really mad. I mean, I was sitting there convulsing for a few hours while Joe Moocher and Jane Addict toddled off to take up all the beds in the department. We are in for some trouble times, I think. B...

Not really the news I wanted to hear. It's just been one of those weeks. But it is not the time to be trifled with such things. It is the time for studying a lot. And worrying about everything.

There were a lot of things on my plate, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. It never gets to that point. Anything that comes my way is dealt with immediately. Maybe it's not attended to, but it's at least considered. I triage everything. But then, today, I mistakenly thought I had another chemistry lab write up due tomorrow that I had completely forgotten. And that was the straw. I just sort of shut down for a few minutes. Five, maybe ten. I just sat there and silently freaked out. It was a real "all systems: fuck" sort of thing. For a few minutes, I was convinced I wouldn't be able to do anything and that it was just all too much. For a few minutes, I was completely overwhelmed. And it was a bad feeling because I never am. I refuse to believe it's possible. So I kicked myself and got to work putting things in order and set up the rest of my night. Then, I was allowed to start chewing again. Which, admittedly, I do not like as much ...

The first memories that came to mind? Drinking Mr. Pibb in the office. Buying a Batman action figure and Batmobile toy set. Her housemate gifting me my first camera. The toys she gave us every time she came to visit that we never, ever played with. I don't really look back on any of these memories with any particular sentimentality. They are just things that happened in my life with no real emotional investment. In fact, I was more upset when I heard her dog had died. Which makes me feel kind of bad. I mean, I didn't share blood with the dog. But my mom was crying when she told me the dog died. She just sounded tired today. I'm not numb, I'm not detached. I'm just... unaffected. My grandmother died in her sleep and all I will do is shrug. I was watching life today on the Discovery Channel. Makes me want to go travel places and see things and take pictures of cool stuff. I want to go to the weird things in Venezuela and find the weirdo frogs. And I wa...

As a kid, I never really had a solid grasp on things that I should have. Concepts, I mean. Like weather. I used to wake up every morning and ask my mom what the weather would be like that day. "Is it going to be hot or cold today?" Meaning, would I be able to wear shorts and a t-shirt on a normal January day. Eventually, she told me to check the temperature by feeling the window. That didn't really help either. Also, I never really had a real good perception of time. And I still don't. Like, how the hell is spring break over already? It's basically time to go back to school and I haven't done absolutely nothing. I was supposed to do a bunch of chemistry lab stuff so I could be ahead and relax for a while. I was supposed to draw a bunch of comics so I could be ahead and relax for a while. I was supposed to do something--anything--scholastic and I have done absolutely nothing. It is terrible.

Man, it's kind of crazy how tiring it is when you spend the whole day sleeping. Like, damn. I could use a nap. But we'll see how all this stuff turns out. I'm not particularly riled up either way. If he says yes, then okay. If he says no, then okay. It really isn't that big of a deal. It really won't affect me all the much. Except, maybe my mom will try to be a nicer and maybe my dad will grow a little more distant and maybe my brother will keep on doing the dumb things he does regardless. But, I mean, you know; it's whatever. I'm going to take a trip this summer. I've decided. An epic trip. Some kind of awesome adventure. I really want to canoe the Colorado River all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. It's something I've been wanting to do for years, and I'm going to make it happen this summer. Somehow.

It was, admittedly, not the best camping trip I've ever taken. But despite people being unnecessarily tense in the beginning, I was pretty damn excited to be going out somewhere. After following some questionable directions and almost missing an exciting turn, we made it to Lost Maples. Which was actually a pretty nice place. The trail to the campsite wasn't difficult or particularly long and the creek that weaved across it was a welcome change from the usual sight of bicyclists weaving across sidewalks in front of you. There were some cliff faces that ran along the length of the trail and, really for the first time in a while that I can remember, I could hear the birds chirping and singing in the trees around us and the frogs making frog noises down by the pond. Even though we were dragging an absurdly heavy wagon and a deluxe wooden edition of Scrabble and too many things in general and camping completely surrounded by other people, it was nice to finally be getting out i...

All I ever think about these days is how much I have to/want to study. I hope that's not how I have a good time, now. Would I rather go hang out with peeps or would I rather sit in and study? It is a difficult question to answer. Just a couple more days and then I can focus all my energy on the next greatest idea I've ever had: iconic detectives and sharks.

I don't know what the deal is, but I always get bored with whatever it is I'm doing while I'm doing it. So the endings of my stories always end up fizzling out. It's not for a lack of enthusiasm, though. Well, it is. I just get bored and move on to the next thing. Maybe it's some sort of self-sabotage where I stop myself from finishing something good because I don't actually want to achieve anything. That doesn't bother me as much as it should, I guess. But look at this; this is garbage. I think, really that I just need a break. Camping will be a good time to just unwind. And reflect. It blows my mind to think about what was happening an entire year ago. How different things were.

I tried--I really tried--my best to keep an open mind about the whole ordeal. I mean, every piece of literature he sent to us about it desperately begged us to be very patient and understanding and, well, open-minded. But I will very eagerly admit that it was difficult. "Welcome to, ah, Sun-Do meditation exercise!" He would say, very cheerfully. And so it went every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for three weeks. People asked where I was going and I explained that I was going to waste an hour and a half doing nothing. Sun-Do is, apparently, some sort of Korean meditative breathing exercise. It involves stretching, yoga, some light cardiovascular activity, and--obviously--breathing. Focused, rhythmic breathing set to a chant that I do not know. When we finished filling out our comments forms on the last day, he called us in to impart some final words of wisdom. "I just have two things to say," he said. "One: it is, ah, recommended that you practice Sun-Do th...

Wow, is it really Saturday already? The days go by so quickly now, it's kind of upsetting. There just aren't enough hours in the day to do enough of anything that would matter. It's not going to be a particularly fun weekend and it'll be an even less fun week what with all the tests and labs and reports being due. I mean, I guess it's cool to get totally fucked over with assignments and responsibilities leading straight into spring break. We are college students after all. But couldn't we have gotten an organic chemistry test in there too so there would be at least one fun thing going on this week? Yes, I really enjoy things related to organic chemistry. Spring break is going to be pretty fun, I hope. I'm not really looking forward to it yet because I have so much I need to worry about first. I'm already starting to feel much better during the brief moments I spend walking around outside in the beautiful weather and I'm looking forward to sta...

She got me, and she got me good. It was over before I realized it had happened at all, and even then it took me a bit to process it. We had been doing chemistry homework and talking about things like stuff. "I loved physics in high school," I said. "How come you aren't a physics major, then?" She asked. "Well, I didn't love it that much." I replied. "Besides, my dad was a physics major and I don't want to have one of those follow in his footsteps kind of things going on. I want to do my own thing, something I really love." "So is that why you're a music major?" She asked. "Yeah!" I replied excitedly. Fractured images of sheet music and hazy memories of playing some kind of instrument flashed with every blink I took. "Because I love it so much!" And, for a moment, I was a music major. I was a music major and I was, well, ecstatic that I had been for my entire collegiate career. But then...

It was a typical day in MUS 307 . A typical day where nobody pays attention to anything the professor talks about. A day where people play shitty flash games instead of take notes. A day where people sit and refresh their Facebook newsfeed instead of follow the slides. A day where people roll their eyes and go to sleep instead of listen to the music examples. A day where people get up and leave ten minutes before lecture ends instead of having the God damn decency to stay the whole time and pretend to be interested. I mean, if you're going to be so unaffected by the music we're studying in class then why the fuck did you take the class in the first place? Fuck it makes me mad. And I haven't even started talking about that fucker who sits in the back and tries to whistle along with every song that gets played in class. Alright, dude, we get it: you are just too cool and you know everything about jazz, ever. You know every standard ever written and everybody's so...

I had so many things I wanted to do this weekend. The most important thing was to backup everything I needed on my computer so I could format and install actual Windows 7 and not just pretend Windows 7. I remember what happened last time I ignored the "you have X hours until your copy expires" and it was horrible. In preparation for the whole system maneuver, I was going to draw up a queue of comics to send in for the week just in case something went wrong. And organize everything I was transferring, deleting what I never used or looked at to regain some space since I'm such a horrible hoarder. Instead, I have 10 hours until my copy expires and I'm just now getting started on this stuff. Obviously I got a decent start on this. But I guess whatever happens this week will be well deserved, considering how much effort I actually put into this--and considering how much I should have. It was a weekend well spent, though. Some silliness, some assholery, and some pret...

I'm just so tired. And ready for spring break. I just want to step back from all these assignments and tests and things that need studying. I need that moment of liberation. That feeling of freedom that comes with being outside for a few days. I just need to feel a little unbound. I'm feeling a bit snubbed as it is now. There's just so much to have hanging over my head.

Well, now we're getting things back together. But it'll take more than this. I mean, this could be better.

I am really tired of living with or near people. I hate having a roommate. I hate coming home after a long day to sulk in my room only to find myself in the company of a noisy person who likes to watch sports talk shows with the volume too high. I hate living next to people that can use my bathroom. I came back to the dorms this weekend to find my sink covered in hair from somebody shaving and knocking the razor in it. It was black hair. I didn't shave and my roommate doesn't have black hair. These are people who seem to have no problem peeing on the toilet seat and leaving it like that. They are animals and I hate them. But, regardless of my unrivaled hatred for the subhuman cretins with whom I involuntarily share my living space, I pledge not to do anything aside from be passive aggressive. I won't put bleach in their contact solution, I won't secretly take chemicals from the lab and mix it into their mouthwash, I won't put my bodily fluids on their person...

My brother got suspended from school for fighting. Some kid spent the year bullying him and his friends and the teachers didn't do anything. He followed him into the bathroom where they exchanged unpleasant words and he started hitting David. And David went off on him. So did his friend, when David told him what happened. Just got up from the lunch table, went into the bathroom, and hit him so hard he cried. Put some solid hits on a bully. I mean, yeah, David lost his cool, but the guy had already hit him twice. Twice. Once is grounds for overwhelming response in my book. And aside from that being a great story about your buddies getting emotional and backing you up when something happens, it's a pretty good story about a jackass getting his ass beat like he deserves. I was proud of my brother for doing that. Violence is certainly not the best method of resolving conflicts, but damn is it satisfying when used. I mean, how do you stop a bully from bullying? Asking pol...

Man, I need to work on these backgrounds. They are lacking. Also I need to, you know, study the hell out of this chemistry. And geology.

I'm starting to push the character designs for these character. I hope I'm ready to keep up with it. It'll be a pretty big commitment to draw them as not stick figures. And pretty soon I'll being drawing them less and less like the cartoons I love so dearly and more like realistic drawings because I can't help but obsess over the things I do. I want to be better. I just can't get comfortable with where I am. It's like that with a lot of things, I guess. I'm just about ready for this week to be over.

I don't think I got enough done this weekend. Well, I mean, I know I didn't. Otherwise I wouldn't be scrambling to do things now. This week is just not going to be good. Just things and things and things to worry about. And do. Sort of do. Days to limp through. This weekend went pretty well, I think. The song even came through at the last second. A little up and down in the week leading up to it, but those things happen. And honestly, it doesn't really bother me all that much. People are different and like different things, and that's okay. It's better that way, I think. It keeps things interesting. We have different lives to live and, for the most part, it's better to keep it that way. Talking--or, rather, not talking--to the oral surgeon about when I can chew again was a little disheartening. I was really looking forward to eating normally again in a month, but the next appointment is almost at the end of March. After spring break. I guess...

My head is spinning with thoughts. It's just, you know. I'm totally finished with boy & robot . Time to start doing emergency medicine again, I guess.

The sleep doctor told me I might be narcoleptic. Then he gave me some pills to take in the mornings so that I'd feel awesome. So I guess we'll see how that goes. Fingers crossed. I don't know how I feel about potentially being narcoleptic. Well, I mean, besides tired. I restarted my zombie story and I think it's going quite well. Better than before. And before that. And before that.

I think I'm tired of being here. I want to go home. I'm tired of having a roommate constantly sniffling and cackling six feet away from me. I'm tired of drunken neighbors pinballing down the hallway. I'm tired of hearing suitemates shoot urine into the toilet like well pumped Super Soaker. I'm tired of the doors slamming and the chairs scooting and the fire alarms and seeing people everywhere. And all the noise, noise, noise, noise. I think I really just need to recharge outside. Go out and reconnect with the Earth. Have an adventure.

I used to hear the people above me having sex all the time. It was very noisy. The bed was noisy. She was noisy. The people banging on their door telling them to be quiet were noisy. The chair they somehow incorporated into it was noisy. It was funny at first, bearing accidental witness to what should've been a private moment, but then it became annoying. And then it became just another thing that you blocked out. Then they started fighting all the time. It was very noisy. He was noisy. The things he threw were noisy. The things he hit were noisy. The door slamming shut behind her was noisy. Her footsteps as she ran from the room were noisy. And then he would throw and hit more things. And then it would get quiet again. Just another thing you blocked out. It makes me wonder, though. About how much people really know about us. About our lives and the people in them. How much they know without letting on. I heard a faceless, nameless relationship fall apart through...

I feel really bad for not having accomplished anything this weekend. Especially since, I mean, you know, I had a lot of stuff to do. But what can I do now? Besides complain and feel bad, I guess. I really need to bunker in and get serious about school again. I just can't get out of this man I really don't care mind set. It is no good. But we played music today, and it was a good time. I played saxophone, and that felt really good. Even though nobody could hear it. It was legit--for the 10 minutes I managed to play it. I need to build my chops back up. Once upon a time I could wail on that for hours. Now I'm reduced to mere minutes. And I won't be satisfied until once upon a time is right now because I fucking love playing that horn. I also need to write some lyrics and music. Working with these dudes on their songs and writing things with them is pretty nice, but I need my absolute creative freedom. I've got a style and a vision I need to work toward....

I have a demon inside me and its name is adventure. It constantly aches and calls for more. I just need to do things. To go places, see things, meet people. New things, always new things. Only new things. It's not a want or a desire--it's a need. I need to get out there. I need that thrill. Taylor and I used to sneak out of gym class early. It's not like we skipped class, we just left a couple minutes before class got dismissed. I mean, we would've just sat on the floor otherwise. But it was a rush. Waiting for the coast to be clear and walking out the back door and around the school right before the bell rang. It was an adventure every day--how smooth could the operation go? And then one day we got caught. We ran right into Coach. "Why?" He asked me. He wanted me to blame Taylor. He never liked Taylor. "Because it was fun," I said. And I like adventures.

I was really excited to get a text about jamming this Friday. Even if it's only for a couple of hours, jamming is jamming. And jamming is something I don't do enough. We grabbed an old organ this past weekend. It's pretty exciting. It has to be at least 30 years old, and it's so much fun to play. I'm trying to write some lyrics to a song by Friday. Even though everybody is pretty chill, I still feel like I have something to prove to them. They certainly don't need another guitar and I'm too out of shape on saxophone to play for two hours. But I guess we'll see how it goes. I really need to figure out what's going on with my head. I'm having trouble remembering things. Not just assignments and thoughts, but things that I do. Earlier I forgot that I had already gone to the bathroom. If I don't write things on sticky notes or on my arm then I'll forget them entirely. I feel fuzzy in the head. And my roommate is sick and I am goi...

It feels like it's been a long weekend, but it really hasn't. I really wasted this weekend by having a pretty good time. I didn't get anything done that I needed to. So I guess I'll deal with those consequences here pretty soon. Tomorrow is going to be miserable. Get my lab things, do my lab things, do more chemistry, and on and on and on. This semester is about to spiral out of control, and it just started. Deep breath. A friend of mine found this thing called Wordle , which takes things and does things with them and makes pictures. Out of words. The words that appear most commonly. And the size of the words is related to how often they appear. Blah blah blah. But it made a pretty interesting picture. But then I did it and couldn't figure out how to save the picture so you get this: Why the hell is 'butter' so big?

If I don't get to shower in the morning, I end up being groggy and grumpy the rest of the day. I mean, groggier and grumpier than normal. It just throws me off. I am absolutely a creature of habit and routine. I need to shower in the morning. It's critical. Like brushing my teeth, hitting the snooze button twice, or applying three strokes of deodorant per armpit. These are all things I need to do every morning. Speaking of armpits, I kind of want to shave them again. It was pretty nice. I've been thinking about this boy & robot comic quite a bit the last couple of days. I know exactly what I want to do with it, not just overall but specifically per comic and panel. It's the first time I've felt confident with how things were going to go, and it's weird. It's weird to know how everything is going to go. Everything else has been pretty loose. Do some things and sort of end up somewhere. Fill the space between here and there with stuff. But n...

There is something depressing about going from a word count of over 20,000 to a word count of under 100, but I can't quite put my finger on it. On the keyboard, I mean. It's so hard to write. I just feel so uninspired. I feel unprepared to be writing this thing, even though I've been doing so much research and planning this last month. I want this to be perfect--I refuse to settle for anything less. But, I'm writing it and that's all that really matters.

I always feel so bad when I eat pancakes and don't use all of the butter they give me in the little butter cup. I mean, I certainly don't need that much butter and I know that eating that much butter is just a horrible idea, but they gave me all that butter. And if I don't use all of it, they'll just throw it away. They won't give it to somebody else. I can't waste the butter! So I put all of the butter on my pancakes so they end up oversaturated with butter. But damn do I love eating pancakes. I set up a year-long schedule for writing my zombie story today. I just need to accomplish something with that. I thought about it. After a year of 'working' on it I ended up with 40 or so pages. A year . And now I'm at zero pages. That's horrible progress, and I feel utterly disappointed in myself because of it. So no more spinning my wheels. I can think and talk about this project forever, but it's time to really get serious about it. I...

I don't really know what the deal is, but I've been feeling a little emotional these last couple of days. Like I just need to sit down and have a good cry. Have a good, manly cry. I start to tear up when I think about the comic story I'm working on right now. When I think of the dachshund I won't see again. When I think of the sad things I normally think about but am not usually bothered by. Maybe it's just that time of month. I'd rent Batman: The Animated Series and cry it out over a couple choice episodes, but I don't really have the time or the will to go all the way to the library. I will soldier on, I suppose. I'm working on not bottling things up. Because that usually doesn't end well. Just have to remember to, you know, talk things out. It's tough. I think I need to take a break from saxophone. The weird feeling of my suture sites vibrating while playing has elevated to feeling my suture sites all the time, which is not somethi...