Notes From Texas, Vol. 1:
IRONY:
While waiting impatiently to get off the plane in Houston, I was crammed up against a Texas boy with a crewcut (age 23 or so) who was talking earnestly to his seatmate, a blonde girl of approximately his age. They had the following conversation:
BOY: Yeah, I'm going to go to PJ's... I used to hang out at that bar all the time. The bartender there, she was a friend of mine... she was just killed by a drunk driver.
COMPOUNDING THE IRONY:
GIRL: Oh, that's too bad.
BOY: Yeah. So I figure I'll go to PJ's and drink a shot of tequila for her.

I suppose the only way this could get more ironic is if he said 'Yeah, I figure I'll go drink twenty-thirty shots of tequila in her memory, and then maybe go cruising.'

Notes From Texas, Vol. 2:
My mother, after swearing she'd never have another pet once I took the cats with me, got herself a dog. And she named it Mandy, which (she informed me) would have been the name of my twin sister, had I deigned to be twins.
It is with a certain sense of irony that she refers to Mandy as 'your little sister'. However, it is a genuine, honest mistake when she calls the dog by my name.
She hasn't called me Mandy yet, but it's just a matter of time.

Notes From Texas, Vol. 3:
It was with some trepidation that I sat there in Texas, noting that I'd have about twenty-four hours at home before I flew off for Massachusetts. I hate flying. I'm not afraid to fly, but it's so time-consuming, uncomfortable (bordering on outright painful), and boring. When you're squished into a plane like refugees in steerage, there's really not enough room to do much besides read or play handheld games. Not that I mind reading, of course, but I'd have a much better time if I had room to spread out my sketchbook and mess around.
Ah, well. Time for one blog, and then it's off again. Hell Christmas is halfway over.
posted by Mie Tsukikoushi at 11:20 PM

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I love going to restaurants that cover the tables in white butcher paper and put crayons in the sugar box. I always end up scribbling all over the paper. Oddly, the stuff I draw on the paper has improved markedly since my website opened... fancy that!
I've left the nice folks at Bravo! several odd drawings now. If only they were saving them... when I become rich and famous, those nice waiters could pull out these goofy tea-splattered anime-style crayon drawings... and embarrass me horribly. So maybe it's a good thing that they're getting wadded up and thrown out.
Still, it's really nice to be able to draw so LARGE, and use big sweeping lines... I should draw with crayons more often. Perhaps on the walls.

At any rate, this totally random post is the last blog I'll blog for a while, since I am embarking upon Hell Christmas. When I get back, if I am not dead, I'll pick up where I left off.
posted by Mie Tsukikoushi at 2:17 AM

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A few years ago, TSR published those large 'Encyclopedia Magica' tomes in order to scam more money off gamer dorks like myself. These were huge collections of every magical item ever created by TSR; in the books, in the magazines, in the supplements, everywhere. Since magic items have always been one of my favorite parts of tabletop RPGs, I bought these books. (A few more dollars in TSR's coffers to help them stave off the takeover by Wizards of the Coast... bahahahaha! I laugh!)
I noticed something... odd... in the first volume, however. I was reading along happily, when an entry referred to '2d20 points of dawizard'. Over and over, I saw this... 'dawizard'. Occasionally, an odd reference to something called an 'iwizard' would pop up.
I was clueless. Then it dawned on me.
Someone at TSR had decided that the term 'mage' wasn't clear enough, or something. So they called up a global search and replace in their word processing program, and replaced EVERY INSTANCE of the string 'mage' with the string 'wizard'.
Unfortunately, since a good seventy to eighty percent of AD&D magic items deal 'damage'... trust me, that's a lot of 'dawizard' to do to your product. And anything that dealt with an 'image'...
Hey, laugh if you must, but in twenty years that rare collector's item of a book will be the majority of my retirement funds. Which will explain why I live in a cardboard box and eat cat food.
posted by Mie Tsukikoushi at 12:00 AM

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So, seeing as how it was zero degrees F (-18C) outside today and only an IDIOT would be doing anything except staying home, I was at Wal-Mart. Specifically, I was at Wal-Mart watching the Christmas loonies look for cheap and inappropriate presents for people they don't really like.
Anyway. So I was in the toy section, and I spotted a board game called "N'Sync Backstage Pass". Apparently the point of the game was to be the first one to win the coveted backstage pass, or something. I was a little too frightened to actually pick up the box and check.
My boyfriend's theory is that it's a first-person shooter game, in which you shoot and kill other obsessed squealing fangirls in order to claim the coveted backstage pass first. I cleverly pointed out that it's a boardgame, not a video game. In fact, I believe that it's a detailed 'dating sim', in which you and one to three other players have to frantically seduce roadies, soundboard managers, and other lesser personnel, in order to find one who will toss you a sticky backstage pass in exchange for your services.
Be careful, or you might pick up a Sexually Transmitted Disease card and lose two turns!
posted by Mie Tsukikoushi at 10:33 PM

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Well, I'm old, tired, and cranky. So I'm going to be lazy. Here's a quote:

'It's better to have loved and lost than to have loved and caught something.'
- Shannon Wheeler, Too Much Coffee Man
posted by Mie Tsukikoushi at 3:02 AM

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I swear that I have heard 'Winter Wonderland' over two hundred times this year. Why is it always the awful schmaltzy fifties Christmas carols that get played in stores and restaurants?
The only two carols that I really, actually like are 'The Little Drummer Boy' and 'Carol of the Bells'. Haven't heard either of them once.
We're all being chewed on by the monster Christmas hype machine, that sends families into debt and stores into a tinselly tizzy; that creates both shortages and checkout lines of insane proportions; a holiday more about supporting businesses and satisfying the demands of children than about whoever this kid was.
And yet... when you can get away from the crowds and the shopping and the noise, Christmas is... quietly pretty, isn't it? Driving around looking at the lights on houses, or sitting in the darkened living room gazing at the lights on the tree? Hearing one of the good Christmas carols, at an appropriate volume, when you can sit quietly and listen to it? Having a glass of eggnog and watching the snow fall?
I'm not a Christian. I can't say that I've ever been one. But when I see the sea of candlelights at a Christmas Eve service, I'm more at peace with Christianity than I believed possible.
That's what I want for Christmas: peace, quiet, and stillness. I'm probably more likely to end up with a bunch of ugly clothing and useless doodads, but my way is cheaper.
posted by Mie Tsukikoushi at 1:31 AM

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One of my very favorite stories:
During my sophomore year in college, I got a dorm room that opened out onto a very heavily trafficked hallway. People from five different dorms walked by my door daily.
Anyway, I soon got into the habit of decorating my door with a selection of quotes that I liked. I'd print each quote very large on its own page, and put up five to nine quotes a week, generally all on the same theme.
People seemed to like these signs. They'd stop and read them, they'd steal the signs to put in their own rooms. (I printed five copies of each sign because I'd need five. Some of the rooms I visited had thirty or forty signs plastered to their walls.)
Apparently my door became a topic of discussion in a couple of communications classes, too. Fame is its own reward, I guess. But, anyway.
I soon learned to recognize the telltale sounds of someone outside my door reading the signs. The clomping steps would stop, I'd hear murmuring (and generally laughter), then they'd move on. If I wasn't doing anything at the time, I'd go peek out the peephole to see who was out there and to watch their reactions.
So, anyway, in the spring, I had a door full of quotes about - what else? - sex. (For some reason, there's a real plethora of funny, pithy quotes about sex. Plus people liked them. For some reason.) And in the middle of that week, I heard the usual telltale sounds, so I peeked out.
A blonde and a brunette were there... freshman girls from the seventh floor. I didn't really know them but I recognized them. They looked at the topmost sign and laughed a little, then at the next one, and laughed a little, and so on... until they reached the one in the very middle, which read:

'We may eventually come to realize that chastity is the worst of all sexual perversions.' - Alex Comfort

Pause. No laughter. Then the blonde leeeeeaned over to the brunette and said, very clearly: 'Is chastity doing it or not doing it?'
The brunette thought about it for a moment. 'Not doing it.'
'Oh,' said the blonde. Then they finished looking at the signs and walked off to their class.
posted by Mie Tsukikoushi at 5:27 PM

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Ah, digital cable. It comes with its own built-in TV guide, with summaries of the shows... when I was flipping channels last night, I ran across the following summary:

FROM MARTHA'S KITCHEN
Gingerbread cookies;
endangered species.

DAMN that Martha Stewart. I guess she really does know how to live better than the rest of us.
posted by Mie Tsukikoushi at 3:53 PM

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The Web Fanartist's Credo
(1) I am not Akira Toriyama or Naoko Takeuchi. I am not Masamune Shirow, Kenichi Sonoda, or any member of CLAMP. Nor am I Kia Asamiya, Ray Omishi, or Hayao Miyazaki.
(2) Further, it is highly unlikely that I am Keiiii, Julie Dillon, or Chika. I am not Lex, I am not Akane, I am not Juno, I am not Kyubi Kitsune or Kon. Nor am I a member of Estrigious. I am not Kyrn. I am not Kouryuu. I am not Queen Vera.
(3) Therefore, I will do my utmost to develop my own style. Copying is an excellent way to learn and a pastime I am guilty of, but I will attempt to create something with a style that I can call my own.
(4) I will not steal pictures and claim them as my own. I will not steal pictures and claim them as my own. I will not steal pictures and claim them as my own.
(5) I will not trace artwork and claim it as my own work. Nor will I copy artwork exactly and claim it as my own work. I am a reasoning thinking human being and I will come up with my own compositions.
(6) I will not be embarrassed by my own works. Everyone starts somewhere, and I started here.
(7) I will, eventually, learn to ink and color.
(7a) I will, eventually, learn to draw action poses and facial expressions that convey emotion.
(7b) I will, eventually, learn to draw backgrounds.
(7c) I will, eventually, learn to draw hands and feet.
(7d) I will, eventually, learn to draw members of BOTH genders.
(7e) I will, eventually, learn to draw drapery and clothing folds.
(7f) I will, eventually, learn to draw animals. Mecha are optional.
(8) I will realize that while I, personally, may not care for hentai/yaoi/yuri, others do. I will respect their right to draw/display such things and I will not abuse them for it. Conversely, if I an a fan of hentai/yaoi/yuri, I will not attempt to forcibly convert those who are not.
(8a) However, if I do choose to display hentai/yaoi/yuri, I will label it clearly and put it in its own section. I will have, at least, a warning page, and I will consider passwording the section if it is sufficiently explicit.
(8b) I will heed warning pages. If I don't like it, I won't look at it. If I am underage or living with my parents, I won't look at it. Or, at the very least, I will be extremely careful. No one will thank me if the page is yanked.
(8c) Yaoi/yuri is an acquired taste and requires a particular mindset and a certain amount of background to appreciate. Writing to an artist to protest that a certain character 'is not gay' will accomplish nothing and make me look stupid. If I don't like it, I won't look at it.
(9) I will not abuse clever CG tricks like lens flare or Impressionist brushes. Indeed, I will attempt not to use these tricks at all.
(10) Criticism is not the end of the world. But it can be cruel. I will realize that my words carry more weight than I thought possible, and I will realize that my harshest critics are emotionally crippled losers.
(11) Even the most well-meant and kind critique is uncalled for if unasked for. I will not make suggestions unless I am asked.
(12) A simple webpage is the best webpage, until I am more comfortable with HTML.
(12a) I will stay away from autostart MIDI, excessive frames, enormous background pictures, and pages that take more than a minute to load.
(12b) I will keep my pictures below 200k in size if at all possible, and warn visitors if a picture is unduly large.
(12c) Blinding visitors is not a good thing.
(12d) My thumbnails will be neither the entire picture crammed into a 20x20 space nor an entirely uninformative picture of an eye. I will attempt to make it clear what each thumbnail represents.
(12e) Commenting on my own work, however briefly, is good.
(12f) I will have a links page, and I will attempt to keep it up to date. I must realize that the Web does not end at my site. If there are links in, there must be links out. I will understand what link-free means. I will be link-free unless it causes repeated specific problems.
(13) Everyone needs encouragement. I will sign someone's guestbook with a sincere compliment today.
(14) I will never sign a guestbook or a BBS simply to promote my own webpage. I will have something to say beyond 'nice site' or 'great work check out mine'.
(15) My art does not suck. And I am not alone. Somewhere out there, someone is enjoying my site. For them, and for myself, I will continue to draw and write. I can only get better, I can only get better, I can only get better.
posted by Mie Tsukikoushi at 8:49 PM

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As long as I'm talking about things I hate, I'll tell you about this one: women who are afraid of food. You know the women I'm talking about... they go to lunch in little clumps, grill the waitress endlessly about the contents of their measly order, then spend the rest of their joyless little meal comparing their ridiculous diet plans and nattering on about calories, fat grams, carbohydrates, etc., ad nauseum...
For the record: a salad comes BEFORE your meal. A salad should not be the entirety of your meal. Let's not even talk about those beknighted women who try to eat salads without dressing. I'm sorry, lettuce is gross. Even with blue cheese dressing, it's only a marginal foodstuff.
These are women who say 'I've been so BAD' if they eat two cookies. That's not BAD, lady. Sleeping with your neighbor's husband... that's being bad. Eating two cookies doesn't even register on the Evil Scale.
Even worse is when these women go out on dates. Before they know it, they're telling their hapless date all about their ridiculous diet, while the guy's eyes glaze over.
I mean, I know most men have auxiliary gonads in their eyes. And therefore being slender and pretty is an advantage. But frankly, while being slender and pretty might get you ONE date, if all you can talk about is dieting and clothes and hair and exercise, you probably won't get another. Boring your date senseless is generally not good protocol.
Hear ye, hear ye: being slender and pretty and brainless will get you laid and sexually harassed. Being interesting will get you relationships and male friends.

I'm not afraid of food. I eat fried stuff without a second thought. And sure, I'm not slender. But I can generally hold up my end of a real conversation, and then split a dessert with the guy afterwards. Nyah.
posted by Mie Tsukikoushi at 3:23 PM

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I really hate that weird, high-pitched, singsongy voice that adults use to talk to children with. It's one thing if the child is pre-verbal -- you know, the size, shape, and motor abilities of a loaf of bread -- but when you talk that way to a six-year-old, it seems so insulting.
Sometimes you can tell the kid hates it; sometimes the kid is oblivious. But it really sets MY teeth on edge to hear a tableful of adults talking to each other normally, then, all of a sudden, one of them changes to this swooping chanting voice to say 'Oh! Isn't that NICE? Do you want a nice drink of WATER? Yes, trucks are NICE!'
Do these people think that their children can't tell they're being talked down to? (Well, some of the children can't. Not all children are bright. Despite what their parents believe.) Childhood is frustrating and awful enough as it is without having your parents talk to you like you were a ticking bomb.
Personally, if a child is capable of talking, I try to talk to it like I would talk to anyone. Although I do try not to curse at children. Their parents just take it the wrong way.
posted by Mie Tsukikoushi at 4:25 PM

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