Sexy New Table!

Check out this table man.

This elegant and stylishly designed table, complete with elegant and stylish chestnut finish, was imported to our local small town Walmart from the majestic country of Vietnam. Those people know how to build a sexy table.

Now this table is mine.

That's right. You heard it here. The infamous Lord Veltha is now the proud owner of a fancy brand-spankin' new table! All I need now is a home to store it in, a car to travel to that home, an income to afford a home and car, and a beautiful woman to sit at my fresh new table. I tell you though man, the bettys will be lining up to sit at my table man.

Check out these dimensions: 36x36x36. It's practically a cube! What skill and craftsmanship those Vietnamese possess! And check out those benches. There will be no poor posture at Lord Veltha's table. No sir. And at an easy to manage 76 lbs this table is practically portable.

I'd like to take the time to thank the minions responsible for the assembly of my table. I'm sorry to say that I was not much assistance in the construction due to the injury I sustained from arm wrestling a robot earlier in the week. It was also past my bedtime, and Lord Veltha grows a little testy when it's past his bedtime. I had intended to put it together myself the next day, but my henchman took on the challenge without batting an eye.
(Thanks, Dad.)

Now I will be able to write for extended periods of time without having to endure troubling back pains. This table is totally my height. It's horrible hunching over and having my knees higher than my hips. Here is the table I was previously situated at.

Not so great for scribing epic manuscripts, but it did come bundled with a sandbox so it wasn't a total loss. When I take over the world they will make plastic sandboxes shaped like my logo. Like those big green turtle sandboxes... only AWESOME!

Accomplishment: Job Application

It's been a while since I've written of my accomplishments, mostly 'cause I haven't accomplished anything. I'm not used to doing anything with my life other than write all day and hope that someone other than myself will get a chance to read it, so this sudden activity towards trying to make my way in the world is taking a toll. I've been taking a break, but it's about time I hopped back on the lampalugua (coolest monster name ever) and get to work.

My first job application was almost three months ago, and was quite an astonishing feat at the time. Before that any mention of getting a job would send me panicking. Things have changed recently, and I'm much more confident in my ability to not suck at things. The job wasn't even scouted out for me, but I decided to give it a shot. I found out about it pretty last minute. I told myself that I wasn't going to apply for the job, because there was no way I could get the application in on time. I was just going to fill out the application for the experience of it, because I'd never done it before. Then as I went along it seemed like it could have been possible to complete the form on time. I was able to organize and problem solve on my own, or at least more independently than usual, and got it turned in right at the deadline. I looked for employment at a couple other places before getting completely sidetracked by other matters. One of my new minions is an Employment Specialty Coordinator. She's the one who managed to convince people I was safe to keep around kids. She's still looking for jobs that suit me, and in the meantime I'll do some volunteer work to get out of the house. The form I did yesterday was online, so there's really no harrowing tale of awesomeness to accompany it. In fact, I should really take the time to flesh out the story of my first application, but there are other matters that require my attention.

I've been so focused on entering the real world that I've neglected my duties in the fictional world. I managed to jot down a couple short poems I'm planning to read at the next open mic. I've got everything set up to edit my animation except for my patience, attention apan, and relaxed demeanor. All three completely go down the incinerator whenever I try to work on this thing, but I'm almost done. Once I'm done I never have to look at it again. I need to tweak a few things in my graphic novel script. It's been a while since I've written anything in my novel. I also have something very important to draw.

Busy busy busy

Accomplishment: Art Gallery!

I spoot you not. Someone thought it would be a good idea to put my drawings up in a gallery. Please, collect the remnants of your blown mind and continue with me down the path of "What the crap were they thinking?"

Okay, first and foremost, this isn't really an "art gallery" per say, but more of a... nut house. Not that the people going there are nuts. No sir. I'm not saying that. People going there are going to get help. That's why I'm going there, and I'm not nuts. I'm totally sane. Actually, my therapist there seems to think I'm good to go off on my own, but I'm still not sure what to do with myself now that I'm, for all intents and purposes, "better," "stable," "cured," or "no longer going around kicking puppies to make myself feel better about my problems." (At least I'm not a tiny dog that just got kicked for no good reason. I mean, that would suck. I'm a pretty lucky guy.)

(I must remember to put an easy-to-reference disclaimer somewhere that will tell people stumbling upon this blog that I am not serious about the puppy kicking or calling children "meat bags." I'm aware that sarcasm doesn't travel well over the internet. Although, adding a disclaimer might kill any and all evil overlord credibility I've acquired over the however-long-I've-been-trying-to-be-an-overlord period. Hurm...)

The gallery is for some big-wig dinner, meeting, thing... I don't know. I lost the flier. It's somethin' about people comin' in for some reason, and the place needed to prove that they were doing something worthwhile by having their patients produce art about how awesome they are. The algebraic equation describing why this is a big deal for me goes a little somethin' like this:

Recognition for Talent + Self-Indulgent Artist's Statement Where I Explain Why I'm Awesome + Small Commission = A Very Happy Narcissistic Overlord Slowly Making His Way in the World + A little Bank for Little to no Effort

You can try to simplify it if you're a nerd (I tried, but I don't think this has anything to do with math so I failed.) What it really amounts to is awesomeness, and that's pretty much what I'm tryin' to go for here. What's even better: since I framed the piece and the required artist statement together they decided it qualified for a bigger check. I just gave them what they asked for and they decided to pay me twice what I deserve. On top of that they read a copy of that children's book I mentioned back in episode whatever and decided to add that to their little show and are willing to pay me for that too. I'm getting paid to do crap I normally do just for the heck of it! This is the way it should be. I should be awesome, and people should reward me for that awesomeness! I'd probably have to do a little more than make little black and white doodles, but... you know... I'm still cool. (*whimper*)

I mean, it'd be great if I could actually support myself just by being me. That's kinda the overall goal here. It'll take a lot more than a gallery show at a mental health center to help me reach that goal, but it's a start. The real goal is to find a way to pool my greatness with others so that it congeals together in a big pool of extra-greatness. In other words: combine work and social life. Ah, which reminds me that I have a screenplay writing program thing now. One of my evil plots for over the summer is to produce a short film that will hopefully give other awesome people a reason to play with me assuming they have nothing better to do. I'm too much of a coward to just say, "Hey, hang out with me!" but if I have something I want to do that actually requires other people to help me out with then I'll have more incentive to get over my neurosis. (It's funny how my mind works. Anything worth doing is worth complicating beyond reason.)

The radio station thing still hasn't contacted me. It's been suggested that I just waltz on in and introduce myself. That sounds pretty good since they haven't been returning my emails. What's the worst that could happen? I still think that getting this radio gig, be it DJ, sound engineer, gorilla reporter, or gopher, would be the best thing that has the highest potential of actually happening.

What else we got? Oh, hey, check this out. This is the thing I submitted.

Artist's Statement: "In overcoming my depression and anxiety, change is one of the most difficult obstacles I face. As I recover it becomes challenging to deal with my new capabilities. There are times I grow anxious simply because the familiar feeling of anxiety that has been with me for years is no longer present. When I walk into a noisy crowded room I am no longer overcome with fear. My body doesn’t tense up, my breath doesn’t hasten, my mind doesn’t reel, and I don’t know how to deal with being okay. I do not yet understand how to be normal.
Since coming off of my medication and learning how to self-regulate my emotions I have drive, ambition, desire, and hope; all things I’ve never had before. It’s overwhelming. I’m compelled to change, and often I feel as if changes aren’t happening fast enough. I know I’m capable of so much more. Suddenly there’s a need to make up for lost time. I need to make friends, get a job, get a car, move into a place of my own, push myself to my limits. I want to escape from the anxiety and depression that has become so normal to me. I’m afraid if I don’t keep pushing myself, or if I stop to take a break, everything will come back. It’s a nightmare."

Blah blah blah angst.
But angst I'm getting paid for is way better than the regular kind. Everything will be okay, but I gotta go before my grammar totally falls apart on me. Just havin' a few issues here an' there with sentence structure. No big deal. It adds character.

Triple Accomplishment Super Thursday!

Today worked out great. I accomplished something today that's been nagging me for what seems like years, and possibly has been. The fact that I managed to circumvent my usual tedious thought process that invariably results in me chickening out and pouting about how much of a coward I am and instead do the un... well not really the un-thinkable, 'cause I've thought about it, but that's more or less the point. The fact is I actually did it rather than just think about it. This is an amazing feat of super greatness that goes beyond my normal capabilities. If I can continue down this path it will change who I am as a person for the better, and make all of the trials to come that much easier. It's a stunning example of my newfound perseverance and tenacity.

But first I rescued a dog.

It was a round little chihuahua by name of Gizmo. It was wandering around claiming the neighborhood as his own and I made him nervous enough with my menacing countenance that he eventually ambled home. Then he ambled through the bushes and around his home. I eventually managed to cut off his escape route and deliver him to his girl across the fence. Just another day in the life of an Evil Overlord.

Next up I went to work on my animation, 'cause I'm an animator and that's what animators do: they work. I'm about ready to edit and hopefully fix as many mistakes as I can so I don't have to re-animate everything by hand. It's always reassuring listening to DVD commentary and hearing producers complain about how bad the animation was on certain episodes they got shipped back from Korea, and how they managed to fix everything in the edit. Which reminds me: I need a Korean workforce. Maybe I can find one on Craig's List.

I couldn't edit today for technical reasons (I'm an ill-prepared idiot) and decided to proceed to Cover To Cover Books where I was to face off against the beatnik hippie open mic poetry readers of DOOM when something unexpected happened. (I'm a pretty simple-minded person. Gravity is unexpected.)

Something happens when I see certain strangers. They stand out, like there's an eerie glow about them. It's kind of like how in the animated series Batman Beyond (Ironically intended for a younger audience than the original Batman: TAS, but is way more mature in my opinion... despite the laser guns) all of the background characters are painted in the same color scheme so that the main characters pop out more by contrast. Some people don't blend in like other people do, and it's not because of the way they're dressed. Something in the back of my mind urges me to talk to these people, but I never do. I get shy and self-conscious, so I walk away. Then there's the guilt and shame over how I don't take an active role in pursuing my happiness and blah blah blah angst. Today wasn't much different, with the exception that I was awesome. By "awesome," I mean fatalistically sarcastic with myself.

Whatever happens is the only thing that could possibly happen, and I have no control over it, so why panic? What's the worst that could happen?

"What's the worst that could happen?" is a favorite game of mine, and one that should only be played in good humor. Usually when I play it goes something like, "If I do this, then tornadoes will come down and send giant turtles hurtling though the air like comets, cracking the planet in half and causing gravity to pull the fragments inside out. So, basically I have nothing to be embarrassed about, 'cause if that were to happen I wouldn't be around long enough to feel embarrassed." It's not the most logical conclusion, but it gets the job done. It manages to break the will-I-won't-I cycle that involves me pacing back and forth, growing courageous, turning around and wussing out, telling myself not to be a coward, telling myself it's too scary, and just giving up. This time I managed to actually talk to the glowing person. I was slightly more articulate than a drunk with a mouth full of wasabi. Only slightly.

I used this line to initiate the conversation: "Hello, I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm trying some exposure therapy. I'm not used to talking to people, and I thought I'd try talking to you."

I shit you not, good sir. I am the smoothest cat in the 'couve. Next I'm gonna walk into a bar, find a hot girl at the counter and say, "Hey, do you drink glow-sticks... 'cause you're really pretty," in my best mouth-breather stalker voice.

Regardless of how stupid I must have sounded they were very nice to me. I'd like to thank them for putting up with my social awkwardness, but I never got their name. Thanks anyway. It meant a lot to me. Maybe now it'll be easier to talk to strangers with "the glow." I just need a much better way to begin a conversation. It's hard, 'cause most people are perfectly content in their day-to-day lives. They have their circles of friends and family. They don't need me. The only way I can meet people is if I actively try to engage their attention. What better way than to say, "Hey, we're going to have a conversation now," you know? Subtle suggestion that I would like to talk doesn't seem to work on people.

I have to keep reminding myself that this is supposed to be the optimistic blog and I'm not allowed to badmouth my ineptitude. I just need experience. Then maybe I'll learn that all I need to do to hold a conversation is ask small-talky meaningless questions and hope they don't think I'm creepy and nosy. (I can't win.)

I still had three hours to kill before the open mic started. The website said it began after closing. I didn't read where it said an hour after closing. I walked to the library, wasted time, whatever. When the doors opened up I came in and sat around. Actually, I started writing about my experience out of boredom since I had already been sitting around doing nothing for long enough Dad's giant saguaro cactus might have blossomed. Feel free to skip this crap. It's only here 'cause I feel like wasting more time.

"So, I'm here. Sitting in the most uncomfortable chair I can find. The room is empty. No reason I should sit here. Maybe I won't. It's funny how my thoughts finish seconds before I write them. Can't do anything 'til I write everything down, even find a more comfortable chair. Maybe if I moved to a more comfortable chair I wouldn't have gone back to writing about the uncomfortable chair. Perhaps I would have. We'll never know. I now sit in the second most comfortable chair. How would I know that? I've only sat in one other chair. There's a chair that looks like it could possibly be more comfortable. It's sitting in the back row right in the center of the aisle. I'd be too embarrassed to sit in the middle of the room. Not sure why. The room is empty. The vacancies would mock me. I'll never know. There are people in the room. They've been there for about seven sentences. Funny how that works. Writing about emptiness as the vacuum is filling. I write too slow. My hands are cold. I've been outside since 4:30. I talked to a stranger. Go me. Then there was the library and here I am. So... here I am. I'm still here. Why was I here so early? My firewire, or lack thereof. Can't work without a firewire. I also thought the mic opened at six. How did I come across that assumption? Lack of observation. I thought the website said after closing, and I assumed that meant right after closing. I have a habit of doing that. I think so. I can't think of when I've made that mistake before. That means either I've never made that mistake before or I have no memory of it. However, if I've never made that mistake that would also explain why I have no memory of it. It doesn't necessarily mean I have a poor memory. So, here I am. Head count: 18 heads. There are more. Some heads are hidden behind others. Some are behind the wall. I see no heads lost and rolling on the floor. That would be unfortunate. Ah, here we are. It begins."

There was some good stuff. There was a song I really liked. When the musician kept forgetting the words it actually improved the quality of the song. No, I mean it. Not in a bad way like his singing was crap, but I mean, with the whole, I dunno, subject, I guess, it, um... worked. The guest reader had an awesome two-minute speed poem too. I'd like a copy of that. Over all it probably would have been a better experience if I wasn't all brain-dead and tired.

Speaking of which, it's stupid late. I gotta get me some beauty sleep. Maybe I could take a more passive approach to meeting people if I were prettier.

Accomplishment: Lord Veltha VS Children Round 1!

O sing me O muse a tail of woe
Of chaos aplenty a short time ago

"ARRRRRRG!"

...

Thank you muse. The Muse ladies and gentlemen. Thanks for coming. Hope you enjoyed the blog. Drive home safely. Don't pick up passengers unless they're carrying a towel. Always use a condom. Good night.

So we, being the benevolent future overlord that we are, who refer to ourselves in the "We Tense" from time to time, agreed to volunteer our time at a place for a thing. The place was a shelter style place. The thing was a reading style thing. What could possibly go wrong?

Well... nothing. Everything happened as it did because it happened as it should, or something. We got there, introduced ourselves, sat down, and then one of the little children type things asked to sit on our royal lap as we read. Seems like just a short time ago our personal space took up most of the globe and we were resentful of everyone invading it. Oh how the mighty have fallen, scraped their knee, looked up, and said, "That was a stupid thing to do. I should have listened to my mother." We even surprised ourselves when we gave a positive reply. Imagine us allowing a strange grubby little meat bag to sit on our lap. (Nobody is taking what I write seriously, right? Quick show of hands. Okay. Good. Just checking.) We think it was fear that drove our decisions. They were restless and we didn't wish to provoke them.

The first story went fairly well. It was a little book called "Click Clack Moo: Cows That Type," about a rebel band of bovines that send regular letters to the editor and refuse to produce when their demands for comfort are not met. There was audience participation. Life was good.

You'll have to forgive us if we do not relay the facts as they have happened. One of our frequent struggles is between ourselves and our memory, and our memory keeps forgetting when we're supposed to meet and resume the epic battle. I seem to recall there being arguments about what book to read next. The "This one next." "You picked the last one!" "I want to read this one!" "Can I read?" "No, I get to read next!" "Let him read!" "Put down that gun!" "Make me!" "Can I have another cookie?" variety. There's an unwritten rule among children that when someone new shows up everyone has to act up and misbehave. This is fine. We tried to continue reading, but eventually we did what we usually do when we realize we have no control over a situation.

We broke into song.

It got them to be quiet. As it turns out, even the most attention deficit child has to sit down and pay attention to the lyrics of "I'm My Own Grandpa" so they don't miss anything. Once the song ended the babel resumed. One girl attempted to keep the peace by instituting the Quiet Game, but then the kids started arguing about the rules.

Take your time with that. Don't let any of the irony escape.

If we recall correctly, we attempted to take control by bellowing, in our most booming overlord tone, something along the lines of, if I'm not mistaken, "Cease and desist at once! Silence your faces!" When one of the children attempted to protest I pointed a dramatic finger towards them and ordered, "You! You have a face! Silence it!"

I needed to take control. Most of the children were starved for attention. They did not have the attention for stories. Everyone wanted to talk at once. The best thing I could think of at the time was to play a game. Hodge Podge was probably not the best choice for this group of youngsters, but it came to mind and I needed to be an overlord. Sometimes it's best to just crush the opposition with an iron fist and figure out a better plan once you've scraped them off of your metal gauntlet. In order to play Hodge Podge, the participants need to sit in a circle. Squabbling over chairs commenced. Afterwards I attempted to explain the rules, which probably didn't get through to them and again they couldn't stop talking long enough to play it. They decided "Don't Don't Don't" was a better game.

"Don't Don't Don't" is a game every child knows. People are divided into two teams: The Moderator and everyone else. I played the part of The Moderator, which is the role the oldest in the group tends to play. The object of the game is to keep it going as long as possible by distracting The Moderator and keeping them from realizing the only way to end the game is to realize it's a game and end it. Typically, the longer the game goes the louder and more violently it ends due to the build-up of The Moderator's frustration. By the nature of the game it is easier to play when there are more than two people. The game is played when one person does something they are not supposed to, to which The Moderator responds, "Don't." Then the next player attempts to break the same rule thing or something similar to the rule the first player was trying to break, to which The Moderator replies, "Don't." The cycle continues. Each player takes a turn frustrating The Moderator and then they repeat. We played this game with three kids. We managed to break the cycle after the second round began. "Don't Don't Don't" is a game nobody wins.

Now, here's a funny thing. Before we left we had enough time to read a children's book we wrote some time in high school. They were interested. It's... weird. We mean, they started talking while we were reading it, but we still had their attention. They were discussing ways the limbless protagonist, a robot snake, could play basketball. (I wrote this for a specific kid. "What are the coolest things in the world?" "Snakes, robots, and basketball." "... okie doke.") It was the most attentive they had been all day; even more than when we were reading Click Clack Moo. We don't know why that strikes me as odd, but it does. Then we left 'cause it was time to go. That's pretty logical.

We think we're goin' back. They'll be easier to deal with once we become regulars. We think they'll be easier to deal with if we can play with them rather than try to keep them quiet and still.

The muse is hungry. We better go feed it.

Stay tuned for our next thrilling adventure: Lord Veltha VS The Hippie Beatnik Open Mic Poetry Readers...
OF DOOM!

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.

Rules of the Game

(The other day before I started this blog I wrote down a list of Things I Gotta Do In Order To Be MORE Awesome and then paper clipped it to the Hotwheels display thing I've got on my door that makes for rather stylish bulleten board. It's basically a set of guidelines that will help me with my day-to-day struggles with life, the universe, and everything. In theory, if I follow these steps I should be less depressed and more eager to conquer the world. This is what I came up with. They're written in the second person for my own reference. I'm not telling you what to do, so don't feel obligated to improve your way of life. Not that your life needs improving. I didn't say that. This is just for me to help me be a better me. Chances are if you tried to be me you'd screw up. Not that you're a screw up, just that... you're... not... me. I'm a shut up now. Disclaimer over.)

• Laugh! At self... of course. The worse things get the louder you laugh. Sorrow's okay, but always wrap it up with a joke.
• Accept! Things won't always work out the way you want. See above. Things will be okay. Do not dwell! Do not lose courage! DO NOT LOSE HOPE! For example: Just because you didn't sleep doesn't mean you won't sleep. It's okay to say, "If I don't sleep tonight it's okay," but it'd be better if you just didn't think about it. How many people actually think about how they're going to sleep? Accept past and present. The future hasn't happened.
• Pay Attention! I know you zone out and sometimes it seems impossible to focus. See above. Make the effort. Take charge. Try your best, but don't be hard on yourself if you can't. Again... see above.
• Don't Think! Have faith in your talent to be you. Things have a way of working out. You are naturally awesome! Just don't let it go to your head. See above.