Lord Veltha Versus The Power of FRIENDSHIIIIIP!

The key to being an effective overlord is learning how to properly utilize and trust your henchmen. After all, without minions you're just another man in a cape trying to conquer the world. A villain, sure, but not an overlord.

This is where I have my largest difficulties on my path towards conquest. Given my nature as a flamboyantly dressed, egomaniacal, "if you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself" type of person, I am actually suppressing my potential for global domination by limiting my reliance on vassals.

I compare my work to that of professionals in all that I do, and I look on my works ye mighty and despair, for I am merely "good." It also seems that about 75% of everything I do consists of busy work. I things that allow me to utilize my imagination, to socialize with like-minded individuals, and allow me to use my natural ability to mimic the voice of Patrick Warburton, like writing, directing, and prank calling Neil Patrick Harris. I enjoy things like animation (which takes for effing EVER), doodling (I don't particularly consider what I do to be "drawing" so much as giving circles legs), and editing audio (we'll get to that.) That is, I enjoy these things to a certain extent. For the first few hours I am enchanted by the creative process, but soon after my first pumpkin pie break it becomes tedious busy work that never seems to end. I love watching this come to fruition, and giggle with mad glee at well-timed audio cues, or simple chunks of narration magically transformed into an intense monster truck show of layered effects, but these things require patience. Regardless, these are things I must have control over so I do them myself. I know what I am capable of, but the abilities of others are a mystery to me. Certainty is a necessity that is more commonly a luxury.

Accepting of course that I am infallible, that everything I do is right, and what my mother said about how I can do anything I put my mind to is true; even if I am capable of doing everything perfectly, everything is a hell of a lot to do. I must learn to delegate tasks, but this goes against more than a decade and a half of bad programing. Back in the good old days of basic education it was standard practice for me to do group projects on my own. As such I never learned essential social skills pertaining to dictatorship, such as divvying workloads, organisation of meetings outside of class, and Japanese water torture.

Slowly but surely I am acquiring theme skills in my work on The Astonishing Dude. Organizing rehearsals and recording session is a challenge best compared to forcefully aligning the planets, where every individual and every resource required is a planet in orbit around my metaphor. This troop rallying is a task I must not give to another because that would encourage my anti-social behavior.

Once the project is recorded I will continue to edit it myself as I have been. However, uploading the project to the new venue, YouTube, is a responsibility I may have to force on others. You see, it's not enough just to upload the show. It was intended for radio. I fear the attention deficit masses will not show interest in my program when there are things out there like YouTube Street Fighter. Animation in some form is required. Kinetic Typography is the approach I'm taking now. Though my program isn't up to the complexities of more impressive works, it's enough, or would be if I had the patience for it. As is, I've worked on it for approximately eight hours and am only an eighth of the way through my thirty minute show. The other more tantalizing option is to include illustrations, but again, if we're gonna do it we're gonna do it right. My editing program doesn't allow for delicate camera movements with still images. The artwork would certainly be enough to carry the piece though. I know I should not be picky, but it is my nature.

I believe film or theater would be an acceptable compromise, or present compromises that would be acceptable, or possibly compromise my acceptance if I go about it all wrong. The point is that in these two live action media lies the potential for artistic communion in my budding criminal empire. I wouldn't be able to do any acting. My body is stiff and awkward. Plus, if I wrote the script, which would be the plan, I wouldn't be able to memorize it. Ask anyone I've ever written an email to, and they will tell you that these blogs are like children's books in comparison. My dialog tends to be on the wordy side. Plus I have the memory of a brain damaged goldfish. Even other fish would say, "Seriously, man? We passed that pebble like, .0008 seconds ago. What's your problem? Stay with it, bitch!" I would have a better chance of memorizing something I wrote, just as I have an easier time acting out my own writing than scripts from the East Coast folks I tend to do business with online, but it would all be to no avail. Writing and directing would have to go hand in hand. As I understand it, it's uncommon for screenwriters to be involved in a professional production beyond typing the words "The End." Thankfully, I am not yet a professional, so in theory I should have time to build a reputation that demands involvement in as much of the film as possible due to my sheer unrelenting brilliance. I wouldn't have to do all of it myself, which brings me back to the point of this entry.

I feel as though it would be easier for me to relinquish editing duties of a film project to someone qualified for the position than it would be for the radio program. Radio involves a lot of micromanaging and sound design to create a world exclusively through audio. With film most of what the audience perceives is captured by the camera. Foley and music can be added later, but most of the essential elements are there from the start. Editing is done in swift smooth strokes as opposed to subtle jabs. Not that it isn't difficult, especially with multiple takes and angles to choose from. I don't wish to insult any filmmakers, I'm simply making observations from my experience. The process is different, and I feel it would be easier for me to leave the post-production, pre-production, and present-tense-production to the professionals and I would have less need to be in complete control (though I would still like to supervise.)

Projects on the table:

1. The Astonishing Dude Episode 3 (Still need casting, rehearsals, and to actually record the damn thing.)
2. Lawrence The Majestic (Originally intended to adapt my short story into a short film. That didn't work out. It's going to be much longer. Still need to finish the script. We'll wing it from there.)
3. Unnamed Project (Read part of a script I started to my allies. It seemed to illicit a positive response, and a potential internet meme. It sounds promising enough I may need to focus more attention on it. Will possibly become a YouTube series... if I actually manage to complete a script and build the drive and courage to actually do something with it. That's a big problem with a lot of my work. There's so much I want to accomplish, but I lack the ambition to get off my ass.)
4. Everything F-ing else (As usual, my attempts at novel writing are set to the back burner. As much as I like writing, most of it involves keeping to myself for prolonged periods of time. I would much prefer to mix work and play-time by doing projects I can work on with friends. Plus I'm not good at things like "plot" or "world creation." Dialog is my thing. It's what I do.)

This reminds me; I ran into one of my former writing teachers. She commented on how I do a lot of little projects that don't seem to go anywhere. That wasn't precisely the way she worded it, but that was the point, and it's something that has been on my mind. It seems no matter what I do very little in my life changes. When something does go off in a new direction, eventually the road runs out and I'm back where I started. It's like my fate is a giant rubber-band. The more I accomplish and the further away I get from my default position of uselessness and unproductivity the more it hurts when it finally snaps back, and it always snaps back. I tried school. I tried animation. I tried writing class. I tried radio. It seems as though I am only able to do things for a certain amount of time and I'm back with nothing. It takes so much effort to get as far as I do, but eventually circumstances send me back. I must find a way to escape this eternal return.

I just hope my path lies in the direction of art, and not in the direction of incurable disease, violent crimes, or horrible mind fracturing accidents that unlock the deepest recesses of my mind and release all of my various suppressed fears and paranoia causing them to manifest in a complete alteration of the way I perceive the world around me so that I am never able to will myself into becoming a productive member of society due to the fact that I am never able to follow the infrastructure of the fabricated reality mankind has built for itself after centuries of deluding itself into believing that the path to enlightenment lies in a convoluted system of populous control built around abstract concepts such as law and order that has been perverted and exploited by corrupt bureaucrats who value bartering units over human life.

That would be a bummer.

Pathos and goodwill,

Lord Veltha

Lord Veltha Versus The Val Ogden Center

In my quest for hope, belonging, and independence, I was introduced to a facility that literally has these things written on their sign. It couldn't get any more obvious that that's exactly where I need to be.

The Val Ogden Center is a referral only facility for the mentally handicapped run by the recently empowered and mentally handi-capable. Naturally I assumed it would be like Arkham Asylum with the lunatics having taken over, and in this way I was slightly disappointed. However, this Clubhouse provides a very important service to the community that can not be ignored.

Think of the Clubhouse as a social water refinement center. It takes water that, while sullied with all manner of fecal matter and emotional baggage, has the potential to benefit society by providing them with a clean natural resource. The Clubhouse is run by its members, which means all duties pertaining to the maintenance of the Clubhouse is up to them. Essential duties are delegated to volunteers after the morning meeting at 9:00am, and the day is over at 4:30pm. The work is divided into clerical (typing, filing, manning the reception turret), culinary (cooking lunch and washing dishes), and working at the thrift store (imagine if there was a Goodwill in your house, but no one knew it existed and no one shopped there.) The work here provides purpose and guidance to those who would normally be without, and people to playfully distract you while you are trying to accomplish menial tasks. On top of that, the staff is there to assist with career and education goals outside of the Clubhouse as well. Various workshops and meetings are scheduled throughout the week in order to help members achieve their dreams, whatever they may be.

My luxurious sanctum of evil can at times feel like a prison. I live in seclusion from my peers and am frequently left to meditate on important matters of consequence as my only recreation. I have a difficult time reaching out to those lesser beings who populate the world. Simply being in a work environment again has done wonders for me. I have focus, determinations, and a staff of faithful servants willing to facilitate my every need (including freshly baked cookies. I can already sense your jealousy prior to publishing this blog post. It transcends time and space.)

Currently I am attempting to establish a means to attend theatre classes at the local community college so that I may accentuate my already tremendous acting talent with technique training and actual skill. This will also allow me to forge connections in the acting community, stronger bonds with the people I care about as I will be generally closer in proximity to them, and in time I may at last achieve my goals of GLOBAL DOMINATION! (Gwahaha. Mine is an evil laugh.)

Pathos and good will,
Lord Veltha

Lord Veltha Versus Happiness

It has come to my attention that in principal such things as wealth, power, and fame are not goals people strive for, but the means to their goal. That goal of course is happiness.

Happiness is by definition, "a state of well-being and contentment." The dictionary as always is particularly vague when it comes to subjects of importance such as this, and it is best that people are left to define their own happiness. (The dictionary does however contain the long sought after meaning of "life." Why it has never occurred to people to look it up in the dictionary is beyond me.)

I do not feel as though my problem lies in un-happiness. I am by nature a happy person, but I am away from my natural habitat where I can be myself to the best of my ability. I am away from my natural habitat due to avoidant behavior. I avoid things due to the fear that somehow I will make things worse than they are. It is much safer for me to hide within the confines of my impregnable fortress.

Psychologically, even chronically miserable people have in some depraved way found happiness. Try to snap them out of it and watch how their mood goes from bad to worse. Humans are comforted by that which is familiar to them. Take away that comfort and latent survival instincts kick in. Fending for emotional survival isn't often considered a state of well-being. (This link is not even the least bit relevant.)

If happiness is the goal, then I fear I am going about it all wrong. No amount of therapy can MAKE me happy. Discussing pertinent issues such as relationships and economic ways to destroy the world is helpful without a doubt, but the whole point is to allow me to integrate myself into the world and become a productive member of society. That is the key. I'm learning how to cope with reality, not how to participate in it. I am about as well adjusted as I'm going to get, frightening though it may sound. Therapy will not bring me happiness, and I'm afraid more therapy will only not bring me happiness to a greater extent. It's time I learned how to do things on my own. Only then will I be fit to rule this world with an iron fist.

As such, there are only two things that will bring me happiness.

1) A positive social life

2) Purpose

Group gatherings occur when I am invited to or send invitations to planned events, yet my not-the-least-bit-creepy-or-stalkerish research suggests many shared activities are spontaneous. I'm simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Comrades frequently in close proximity to each other are more likely to ensue in mischief.

Plausible Solution: Discover a method for maintaining consistent social contact with friends in person, whether it be to arrange a meeting place or get over my anti-social pansy-assedness and call people once in a while. Phones aren't that scary.

Alternative Solution: Kidnapping. It seems to work for most evil overlords. Besides, when does brain-washing go wrong?

Purpose is a little trickier. I can not simply slap a sticker on an activity or job and call it purpose. The key as always is to FEEL like it's my purpose. As it so happens there are two activities I feel a strong connection to, however I think I have described the pros and cons before. Writing is problematic as I'm inconsistent in my writing habits and abilities, and in order to move forward in my life I would need to complete a project. My voice box however is armed and cocked (...*cough*...), I just don't know where to take it.

Plausible Solution: Ask for help. I have resources I could exploit. I know people who know things about knowing things. I could ask for assistance from people connected to the field, and people may even give it to me without having to resort to mind-control.

Alternative Solution: Mind control

I must take charge of my life to ensure that I have a future. Perhaps I will get started on that tomorrow.

Pathos and goodwill

They called me "mad." I demand a second opinion.

Once again it has been some time since I last updated my conquest blog. This absence of activity can logically be attributed to a lack of recent accomplishments. One of my most valuable servants has recently sustained heavy injury at the hands of zombified bears, and I have been forced to focus my attention on the lair’s upkeep and insuring that my vassal recovers in a timely fashion so as not to further inconvenience me. (Yes, you may say it. I am a truly benevolent overlord.)

The undead ursine outbreak couldn’t have happened at a worse time as I have recently been, shall I say, “volunteering” at a local mental health clinic. I was mislead to believe that the facility would provide me with a fresh diagnosis for my particular genius. They were however unqualified to issue a professional diagnosis, but the word “psychotic” had escaped the lips of one of the employees (and was quickly followed by, “My god! No! Please stop! Please! I take it back! Please! No! NO! I beg you! AHHHHH!” which may or may not have been a psychological term describing Thanatophobia.)

While they were unhelpful in regards to defining for me what it is that makes me so great (I will settle for “rugged good-looks” if I can’t find a second opinion) they were able to provide me with some small matters of insight pertaining to the few barriers I still face on my way to global domination.

While I am in no way denying that my intellect stretches far beyond the veil of cognitive conscious… -itude… there was a time, believe it or not, when I was in many ways smarter than I am today (by a standardized academic definition at any rate.) My ability to learn and retain information has dwindled over the years. Memory, concentration, memory; have all suffered at the hands of some unquantifiable foe. I now believe I understand the culprit behind my not-smart-no-more-ness.

BRAIN POISONING!

Yes, my faithful followers. My brain has been poisoned… by MYSELF!

This isn’t any old metaphorical “brain poisoning” as suggested by advocates against video games, comic books, and Chevy Chase. Oh no, this poisoning is real.

As it turns out, hyperventilating in the case of extreme stress and anxiety causes a deregulation in oxygen or something something whatever. Carbon dioxide gets stored up in the brain along with the FDA approved oxygen it requires, and brain cells begin to suffocate and die horrible agonizing deaths. Brain cells that are lost are unable to grow back. While it isn’t exactly comforting to know that every time I become emotionally distraught my brain withers like an old piece of fruit, it is added incentive to bottle up my surplus of negative emotions (this way instead of a slow painful death while I watch everything I hold dear slip away from me and become obscured by dementia, I will continue along my present path unabated until the day I spontaneously combust in one big glorious ball of inner turmoil that could level a small country given twenty years of suppression. I am my own doomsday device.)

It seems like there was something else I learned, but I don’t remember it. Something about people and how I don’t have anyone other than my therapist to really confide in, which is unfortunate as it’s nearly impossible to reach her in a time of emotional crisis. They were probably just trying to get me to trust them so they could discover my weakness and exploit it. People can't be trusted. I’m much better off learning how to deal with my feelings without assistance. I’ve been doing a great job so far. (*cough*)

I am trying to re-formulate my strategy for success. Impatience has been known to foil 99.99% of evil overlords, but I need an empire and I need it yesterday! (Yes, I’m getting desperate enough that time-travel is being taken into consideration, and I HATE time-travel.) My literary works aren’t going to be completed within a reasonable period of time, and there are too many downsides to sitting around locked in my chamber alone to risk focusing my efforts on them. Voice acting seems to be the most viable use of my talents. Unfortunately I know nothing of “the business.” There is one thing I’ve been noticing by following the exploits of my heroes (most recently M. Bison of Shadowloo): they all have a complex network of connections, but it’s never established how they were… established. I am at a severe disadvantage as I am unable to sustain my polite, energetic, intelligent behavior. There are any number of circumstances that cause me to cease functioning in an ideal manner. If I am able to be myself in the presence of someone who could potentially influence my chosen profession then I can almost guarantee that they will at the least like me enough to thrown in a good word to a guy who knows a guy. Many people do not get the opportunity to be graced by my true glorious self however, and instead see a quiet simpering fool struggling to hold back his screams of fear and hopelessness. This is what must be remedied, but the best remedy is a purposeful life of accomplishment. I fear I cannot achieve my goals until I have become the master of my mind and body, and in order to do that I must my goals. The endless cycle known as “Catch-22” rolls on as I am left behind wondering, as the kids say (out loud), “WTF?”

Some day my dreams will come true. In the meantime I have a cat box to clean.

Pathos and goodwill,
Lord Veltha

PS: Press a links for the great prize!

"If I'm going to be concious at ungodly hours, I may as well stream it."

I feel drunker than a wombat on a goat song could you pass the relish my grandma can't take much more or this is the end of the line Mr. Jones, Mr. Peanut, Mr. Rogers, Mr. T, Mr. Ed couldn't sing tenor to save his lives are one hundred coins each would you like a bag for that or would you like to wear it home Sargent Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band camp and brothel with peas and carrots mixed in a special cream cheese sauce.

Welcome one and all to the Scrap Brain Zone portion of our show where we're so REM sleep deprived we begin to emulate the effects of intoxication. Day one we're sluggish, 2nd day we're cranky, third day we zombie out, and on the 4th day we have violent mood swings. By the end of the fourth this is what happens. My pants are enormous could I borrow yours? Someday we'll laugh at the 101 uses for fish sticks all mattresses must go! This is what happens. The middle changes from time to time, but the end is always the same.

1. "I'll be okay."
2. "Calm down. There's nothing to worry about."
3. "Oh god I need to sleep tonight. I need to sleep. I can't do this again."
4. "My pancreas spoke to me though my hand and it's not pleased with the progress we're making on the waffles John Deer would eat our skin through a bucket sized spaghetti strainer on a Saturday night fever pitch!"

So much to do so much to do. Try to go with the flow. On bad days I stop and let it be bad. Cancel plans. Apologize the next day. Bad day bad day. Violence, rage and anger mustn't be seen mustn't be seen. What would the henchmen think? Don't sweat it champ it happens to the best of us from time to time just don't let the porcupines bear witness or it will come back to bite you in the checkbook. I proposed to a car after my girlfriend kicked me to the curb when I sang a love song on the way home, then Freddy Kruger gave me an indian burn in front of Santa Claus and made baby Jesus cry. Baby Jesus: from the company that brought you Tickle-Me-Judas and Bathtime Fun Moses! Can't keep a beat but still keep rockin'! Toilet seat allergies are worse in the autumn. So much to do. I keep trying. I mustn't give up. Move on and perservere through madness. Infinite improbability overload quick strangle the gopher before it makes off with my Cheetos.

How long can I go on like this? It won't shut off. So much to do so much to do busy busy busy. I don't know what I'm doing. I never know. I keep trying. All surpass me. Why do I fight? What am I good at? I can't do enough. It'll never be enough. My envy of others is my downfall. I feel shame for my insecurity. Garden biscuits for breakfast Tuesday though Saturday at Weasel Land Family Fun Park. Marmots get in free! How can what I do be enough? So many dreams. None can be achieved. Keep trying. Keep trying. Reach for the stars no matter how much your arm hurts when it cramps up from the irony. Sing me oh muse a tale of woe. Of dichord and chaos long long ago. There once was a man, a milliner of lies, who chuckled and chortled at everyone's guise. I cannot go on, but I know that I must. Come with me now or else fade into dust.

Don't raffle at the gun show sink like a ship in the sand drink and be merry don't let it eat you strive for your life and let manniquins weep.

Can I try to keep going? Don't know if I'll stop. I just want to live all of my lives and share them with the world. I know many good people that on one else does. I want to invite them to join in the fun. They will make people laugh and hopefully cry, and all mourn their loss when they finally die.

I'm still trying. Please help me succeed.

In hindsight, stream of conciousness writing may not be the best way to fall asleep. It used to work. If my mind wouldn't shut off I'd let it flow like this onto a piece of paper, and once all of the nonsense was absorbed I could put it aside and go to sleep. Now the flow doesn't always end. I stop when I get tired or bored, but my mind is still going. I usually post this crap where I collect my thoughts in order to figure out how my mind works, but for some reason this time around I was compelled to share it here. It's funny how it begins with babbling, then I go on to explain why I'm in my peculiar mental state, and somewhere in there near then end I begin to get whiny. I also talk about allowing bad days to be bad, but I never talk about allowing good days to be good, or explain what a bad day is and how allowing it to be bad is my way of making it good. That's probably because none of that makes sense and I hate explaining things. I don't like forcing myself to think. I've long lost the ability to do so, and now I must simply be. Stream of conciousness writing is the fullest extension of "simply being." It is not something that you do. It is something you allow yourself to do.

This is the most pathetic entry I've posted in quite some time. This is not what this blog is for. This blog is about sharing my triumphs.

Maybe tomorrow.

Radio Killed the Literary Star

At long last my battle with animation has come to an end, and it has been praised. It’s odd that it took me so long to complete, but this is no time to dwell on the past. Those were turbulent times, filled with tears and great strife. Now the final element linking me to that past has been vanquished and I will be able to move forward into the promising future beyond the horizon. A future in radio.

Today I began my fifth script for The Astonishing Dude and remote-recorded one of my actors before they ship overseas to Japan (She’s a robot and requires yearly maintenance. Allying myself with a robot goes against all of my better judgment and experience with science fiction movies, but she plays a mighty fine diseased pull string doll, and for that I am grateful.) Next week I will be able to record the rest of my cast as an ensemble. I expect the utmost professionalism from them. Not a single line will be flubbed, and at absolutely no point during the recording session will they break out into fits of uncontrollable laughter. I place all of my faith in their capable vocal chords.

Once the series begins my free time will become limited, assuming we’re attempting to maintain a weekly deadline. I’ll have to write one script a week, organize rehearsals, schedule recording sessions, edit and mix the show, then play it at KOUG Radio for all to enjoy. This isn’t impossible. Shows like SNL prove that. It may not be entertaining, but weekly deadlines can be met. I am a male Virgo, and quite incapable of multitasking. I can do one thing at a time, and that one thing must be perfect. The primary concerns are my poor writing habits and unifying everyone else’s schedule. With paint and canvas you can almost always guarantee that you’ll have everything you need to create your art. When your artistic medium requires people things become difficult. Paint brushes don’t have lives of their own. This isn’t a professional production. People are going to be scrambling for jobs and going to school, if not both. They may not be available on my easel when I need them. Meanwhile I will be so consumed by this production that I won’t have time for anything else. I’m fortunate that my comrades are involved in this project. Being the overlord is lonely work, but at least in this endeavor I won’t be alone. These people I am working with are more important to me than anything. They are the reason I continue to fight (I mean, yes, I am human, and as such I am inherently selfish. It would be more accurate to say that I fight for my own happiness and being able to associate with my comrades makes me happy and as such it is in my best interest to persevere through my madness so that I may spend time with them, but people reading this blog may not have the time to read through such a long winded explanation of my motivations. I have no desire to inconvenience anyone by going on and on about something that could easily be summed up in a short sentence. I dare say I’m being ironic. Imagine that.)

The other problem is that I am unable to stretch out a storyline beyond half an hour. The station manager suggested a one-hour time slot. I understand the need for nice even numbers (I'm a Virgo.) If we are given an hour to fill the best thing to do would be to see about getting cast members together at the station and talking about the process (or whatever comes up. There's really no telling sometimes.) It would be like episode commentary on DVD, but live. I for one would find that to be most enjoyable, and I'm sure my cast would love it as well. It would also be a great opportunity for my talented composer to discuss his work if he was in the area at the time of the broadcast. Another bonus for me is that if I assemble people together in a small room to talk about the show ideas may pop up that could be utilized in a future script. At present I am wholly dependent on my own imagination to provide interesting plot lines. My imagination and Netflix (Ah, I do love me some Justice League.)

For some time I have had the desire to return to the piece I was writing prior to my work on The Astonishing Dude. However, any time spent writing must, for the sake of great justice, be spent writing scripts for my radio series. I’m trying to compromise by drawing my characters (and myself. I’m not looking so good.) before I retire to my chaimbers in the evening. I am not a visual artist, and I do not claim to be a visual artist, but I will say that I’ve improved ever so slightly since the last time I attempted to draw human figures. For the sake of good taste I may have to stick to drawing machines, beasts, and plush kitties. If people begin gouging out their eyes due my atrocious sketching there will be no one left to gaze upon my handsome visage (Someone told me I had a pretty smile yesterday. They actually used the word pretty to describe my smile. I wasn’t sure whether to smite them or not, so I hired a former serial killer to decide for me. His judgment was swift.) My dream for this novel… is to write it. Actually finishing it would be a huge step, and despite how obvious it may seem to the future of the work it is something that quite escapes my mind. I would like key points of the story to be illustrated by various comic book artists. The idea is to have each character be drawn in a different art style (For example, I would be illustrated by Yoshitaka Amano. I have high aspirations.) Before I am able to have prestigious artists create work based on my story I must create something great that piques their interest in me. No matter. We will find a way.

Until then we shall continue to draw horribly disfigured people whose parents were clearly involved in substance abuse.

Accomplishment: Listening to people talk in a tiny crowded book store!

While I was researching the radio station I intend to volunteer my time at I listened to a podcast about a local bookstore downtown called Cover To Cover Books that hosts an open mic poetry night every second Thursday of the month. I don't consider myself a fan of poetry, unless you count poetry in foreign languages that I try to read as English and see what happens, 'cause that's fun. I need places to go in order to get out of the house. I've lived here my whole life and I have no idea what the hell is going on outside of my personal basket (The personal bubble was too confining, so I gave it up in favor of something that actually allowed be to breathe.) So I intend on going. It's this upcoming Thursday. I'll sit and look cute. Maybe I'll meet people I can play with. We'll see.

Turns out they've got other things goin' on, including a writer's mixer every first Saturday of the month (I'm not used to seeing annual events listed like that. I expect to look on their website and see something scheduled for the next full moon.) Every month they have a local guest artist come in and talk about... writing. Today they had a guy named Edward Muller (I discovered the link button. Have you noticed? I bet you didn't. I know who you are. You're not that observant. You're also doing that neurotic thing you do when you sit still at the computer too long. You know what I'm talking about. Stop it.) He basically talked about the sort of neurotic thing that I am always interested in learning: formatting.

Every medium has a different format. Screenplays are different than radio plays, which are different than comic scripts, which are different from cook books, which are different from erotic How-To books (I'm well versed in two of the above. Can you guess which?) and as it turns out manuscripts are a bit different too. Some of the details are identical to the way that writing contest thingy I submitted to had me do it. It doesn't sound like it's entirely necessary, but neither is wearing pants to a corner store. It's just something you do out of courtesy (although if you have really great legs...) I'm neurotic. I like to do things "the right way," as they say. There was also some other stuff about cover letters, dealing with rejection (I plan on using rejection letters I get for papier-mache) and managing what work you've sent to what editor. It seems like there's another mixer in a couple months that talks about how to write compelling villains. I think I need this, because my villains are much too likable. I don't know how to write a character someone could actually hate... intentionally. Hopefully the Cover To Cover folks update their website soon.

I also bought a neat book. One For The Morning Glory by John Barnes. It caught my eye. Then I read the beginning and I was compelled to buy it. I'm trying to follow my compulsions, which is what brought me to the book store to begin with. I don't know when I'll read it. I still have Cat's Cradle on loan from the library to finish up. I don't think I'll get around to Paradise Lost, which is a shame 'cause it's the funniest book ever (Yes, it even tops Frankenstein.)

So, there's that. I'm trying to broaden my horizons. I think that's a weird expression. You're not getting any closer to the horizon, and you still can't see past it. Really all you're doing is creating more doubt and uncertainty. Sorry, this is supposed to be the optimistic blog. I'll save the confusion caused by idioms for some other project.

Oh, hey! I need to update my dreams! This one might actually be obtainable. I want to play video games in a movie theater. I know you can rent out theaters for multimedia conferencing. I want to hook up a PlayStation 2 and play War of the Monsters on the big screen. Shadow of the Colossus would be a good one too.

What's Cooking

I've written a big long list of things I've done this year to further my reach and bring myself closer to copping a feel on reality. Most of the things on the list involve contacting friends... which sounds really bad after writing that bit about the copping of feels. I should be more careful in the future not to write anything that will negatively impact my overactive imagination. I could always delete this paragraph and start over.

...

There are two big things going on that involve patience and having to neurotically check my email every few minutes. I mean, I don't really have to neurotically check my email. I'm in control. I can quit any time I want. It's just that these are pretty big for me.

Last month I submitted two pieces to the Willamette Writers Kay Snow writing contest thingy. (Why isn't thingy in the automatic dictionary? Thingy is totally a word. Same with doohickey and... wait... they have doohickey but they don't have thingy? Add that to the list of things I gotta do when I conquer the world.) Third place will pay for both of my entry fees and a celebratory dinner. Second place would go towards donating comics to the library... lots of comics. First place... I'm sure I could think of something to do with first place. I submitted to two different categories, so if I managed to win both that would be amazing and likely improbable. There's no way I'd be that lucky with my first shot. Actually submitting was an accomplishment. People are reading my work. People who could go, "Wow! He's right! That is exactly what is happening! This social satire about how crappy vampires are is so compelling I must contact this writer immediately and tell him to hurry and publish this! Heck, I'll pay for it!"

This blog is about thinking highly of myself. Maybe if I believe in my dreams enough hey won't die. Then I could get married to the princess, buy a house on the moon, and get a pet moose, and live happily ever after. Hooray! And my floors will be made out of infinitely replenishing bubble wrap!

This blog is not about discussing why I do not like vampires. I have my reasons. I've thought it through. I cannot be swayed on the matter. Don't give me any of that "racist" or "politically incorrect" talk. I don't like vampires. You want to know why I don't like vampires then just ask me, and make sure you have plenty of time to listen to me rant. Better yet just buy my book when it comes out.

The other thing that I'm kinda sitting on is this call from the local college radio station. I found a newspaper and read an article that said a lot of great things about trying to unite artists trying to get noticed and promoting them on this radio station. I know: "What's that got to do with anything?" The thing that really caught my eye was where they briefly mentioned they were looking into starting a radio drama. Seriously, this would be the best job ever. Forget that it's volunteer work and I don't get paid. This is what I need. So I, get this, I took the newspaper home! This is... probably not that impressive, but understand where I'm coming from. I talk myself out of everything. I'm naturally inclined to avoid change. I won't go into detail here about how pathetic I am, but picking up the paper and taking it with me with the intention of investigating later was an astounding feat for me. Then I went and emailed them; basically whoring myself and saying I was willing to do anything they wanted of me. The next day, the very next day, I got an email back from the station manager saying he would connect me to the guy in charge of... discipline... and he would see me at the studio. I replied courteously, and have sense been sitting around waiting for their resident disciplinarian to contact me and tell me when my training starts. I haven't heard anything. My excitement is amplifying my impatience. I'd better check my email again and make sure he's supposed to contact me and not the other way around. I am an idiot like that.

Sooo... that's what I'll do now. I will feel like a huge idiot if it turns out I was supposed to contact him. Attention to detail is important when it comes to global domination. All it takes is one lax guard reading a magazine or eating a Sloppy-Joe to miss someone infiltrating the stronghold and then it's good bye evil ambitions. I'm all for equal opportunity employment, 'cause Odin knows I need it if I'm ever gonna get a job, but do not put people with ADD in charge of security.

I need to check my email.

Accomplishment: New Blog!

I've taken many steps to ensure a better future, but this is probably among the most important.

With this new blog I can record the things I'm doing to pave the road my personal van of awesomeness will drive on to deliver me and those who will eventually be working with me to greatness. The tone of course will be personally uplifting and optimistic, so as not to be confused with the LiveJournal of dread. That's for feelings and memories and other right-brained nonsense. This is for things that are... not... that.

Here I will list my goals along with what I am doing to achieve them. Places I go to, people I meet, and things I do that don't suck will be listed here. I should probably start with my goals.

GOALS:
- Get a job in voice acting
- Publish a novel
- Publish a graphic novel/comic book
- Produce animated series
- Produce video game

As you can see, it helps to start small and work your way up. These are my career goals. In order to achieve them I'll have to overcome a few of my personal goals. Again, the personal stuff is a bit too emotional/psychological to get into right now. The focus of this blog is my art. Personal goals such as friendship/relationship/emotional stability/sanity/fashion sense type things will be mentioned as I come across them. While I'm here... let's go for some dreams. My dreams are more like "sub-goals." If I achieve my goals, then these are the next most awesomest step.

DREAMS:
- Produce a GOOD Sonic The Hedgehog game for consoles. One that revitalizes the franchise to the point where those gosh darn hedgehog haters online will shut their noise tubes once and for all. I'd also like to see another balloon in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.
- Start a franchise that rivals Star Wars in sheer scope and popularity. Again, these are dreams. I just want to clarify that. I want to make something popular that stays popular, and isn't just one of those things that come along, take the world by storm, and then everybody forgets about it a year or so later.
- Found a graphic novel library. I'm still gonna donate a bunch of books to the library. There are a lot of graphic novels they're missing that I want to read. I figure buying up a bunch of comics and donating them will make up for all of the money they're spending on postage getting my research materials to me. Then I just started thinkin', "Wouldn't it be awesome to have a library that was just for comic books?" I know there are comic stores, but aren't you supposed to buy things there? I'll wait for things to age a bit before I buy them so I don't take business away from retailers. But, you know, I think it'd be cool. And it could double as an ARCADE! We could get pinball, and Bubble Bobble, and Hang-On, and Street Fighter II, an' a whole bunch o' them cool old games by Atari, Namco, and Capcom. It would be THE place to be for degenerates, geeks, and budding artists with no social lives.
- Be Strong Bad for a day.

Ah, it's good to dream. It gives me something to perpetually look forward to since they will never happen. Still, I mustn't get distracted by figments of my imagination. That happens too often. Like how I spend all day daydreaming about going to the mall instead of actually going there. Yeah, that's... um... pretty sad. I think "Physically Go To The Mall" should be added to my list of personal goals. This is a blog of action and determination and sweat and blood and run on sentences and poor punctuation and insufferable egocentricities and conjunctions and pancakes and... many many words.

Stay tuned for the next episode where we might actually talk about awesome things. Or, maybe it'll be the episode after next. Or, maybe it'll be one of those much hyped about blogs that don't get good until halfway through the second season, but are canceled because by then everyone has given up on it. That seems likely.