The Last Cop-Out Of The Year

I promise I'll actually have a real post soon. Totally a full post, not just a cop-out drawing, like this is. I've just been too lazy/too busy to finish drawing the real one and I wanted to get at least one more post in before the end of 2011. So here it is. The first thing I drew with a tablet I got from my friends. And by drew, I mean angrily moved my hand in a pattern that eventually made a thing sort of resembling me as a bunny-man.

The Shavening

It's no secret that I've become attached to my facial hair. So when a job I'm applying for required "less beard," my heart sank. Never before had my razor felt so heavy. I steeled my courage and began.

I forgot I don't actually have a jawline.

Drawing? More Like Discouraging

After nearly a year with this blog, I've been told that my drawing is at least getting more consistent. That's good, and I do agree. And it's not entirely because of copy/paste either, I've been practicing. However, this is my reaction after seeing basically any other drawing done by anyone else, ever.

Ever.

Look at the internet. There are entire websites of crappy art that is way better than what I can do. I can't help but get discouraged. Granted, I don't have a $2000 art program or a $500 tablet and I haven't spent $GodKnowsHowMuch on an art degree; I use MSPaint, a mouse and my moxie. But I want so badly to be better! So I practice and look for (admittedly) lazy ways to get better and I inevitably I see someone else who is streets ahead of me and I get discouraged again. It is a cycle and it is vicious.

I realize there's always going to be someone better than me, no matter how good I am, so I'm fine with mediocrity. It's both a blessing and a curse. I've always had a natural talent for certain things, I've just always complained when I felt inadequate, instead of actually developing my skills.

So, for the first time ever, I plan to stop that attitude and continue to improve until I'm at the peak of mediocrity. Perhaps even one day, I may be pretty good at drawing. At which point I will write "I'm kind of ok at something," in my journal, which is totally not a real thing that I actually have.

Actually, I think I want that as my epitaph: He was kind of ok at a lot of things.

No, wait! A motivational poster!

Sometimes, it's too hard to resist.

One of those days...

The person who worked before me must have been a lefty, otherwise I have no idea how this happened

This Just Happened

Financially (Ir)Responsible

In the past, I could be somewhat irresponsible with the way I spent my student loans. I (almost) always made sure I had enough for important things, but that left me with a considerable amount to squander. Now with all my responsibilities, I wish I hadn't been so cavalier with my funds. Unfortunately, I am unable to shout loud enough for my past self to hear what a moron he is. Here's a typical situation I encounter and have encountered in the past and the outcomes in the respective times in my life.



Google: What Do You Love?

Oh Google, I love you.

Accomplishments

SITAWRMB III: The Revenge of Stuff I Think About While Riding My Bike

A few weeks ago, my car was out of commission, and now that the ser-vice light is coming on, I've "decided" to ride my bike more. So it's time once again for my only recurring type of post: Stuff I Think About While Riding My Bike! *(Now with noses!)

Revengence.

1. Making a Face

I have a problem. Not a serious one, but a problem nevertheless.  This problem is an inability to maintain a normal face.  This problem usually manifests itself whenever I think, so I try to avoid thinking all together. But anyone who has ever ridden a bike will tell you that you probably should be thinking while riding. And since this post is specifically called " Stuff I THINK About While Riding My Bike" it will be impossible to keep a face that doesn't look like a mouth-breathing moron.



I believe the proper word for that face is "Derp"

 2. Proper Attire

Did I miss the memo where it's not permissable to wear jeans and sandals whilst operating a bicycle?  Sorry I don't own a pair of those fancy shoes that clip onto the pedals. Sorry I don't wear form fitting bike shorts that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination.  Sorry I only own normal people clothes.  If I'm going to commit a fashion faux pas, I'd prefer it be during my brief transportation sessions, rather than spend all day in in spandex.  I've mentioned bike attire in the past, but now that it's summer and they're out in hordes, I feel that because I'm using my bike for transportation rather than hardcore recreation, I've somehow offended the entire population of the city just because I was too lazy to put socks on.  Seriously. Stop looking at me. I'm not changing.

Leaves nothing to the imagination. NOTHING.

3. Getting Shanked

To my knowledge, throughout the entire park, there is only one trash can.  It is a metal barrel next to a sign about picking up your dog's poo.  This recepticle serves two purposes. The first is for the obvious purpose of containing refuse. The second is to make me think there is a person in the dark, at night, waiting to stab me.  Granted it's a small barrell, but it is roughly the size of a crouched man with a shiv in hand.  All I can think as I pass the barrel at night is how much I wouldn't enjoy getting stabbed. Especially by someone hiding behind a trash can, in a park, at night, while riding my bike.




Looks like the barrell is going to shank me. Oh great,  now I have to worry about the barrel gaining sentience.


4. How Stupid Recumbent Bikes Are

I mean, come on. Just look at them! They look like Dr. Seuss bikes!

I can't tell where the bike begins and the man ends....

A(n) (arm)Hairy Situation

You know when your arm or leg hair moves and you immediately think it's a bug trying to kill you? ....No? Just me? Well... that's what this one's about.

Why I Prefer Glasses

After about 9 years of wearing glasses I finally got my first pair of contacts last November.  I have little problem with how they feel and it's nice to be able to finally wear sunglasses and be able to see.  Unfortunately, my self image becomes a bit... skewed when I'm wearing my contacts.  I've gotten so used to my glasses balancing my face out that when I'm not wearing them, I don't like what I see; it's just that I usually can't see.  That changes with contacts. Here, take a look through the lens of my self image.

Nothing perfect, but still a handsome fellow.  Notice how the beard outlines the face and isn't too obtrusive.
But enough about my amazing facial hair. This is about my face as a whole.  Now, let me take off those frames and spend the next 20 minutes gouging my eyes so I can look like this:

I feel so moon-faced without the crisp black outline of my glasses balancing my face. So if you were wondering why I haven't been wearing my contact lenses as much, this is a big reason. That, and I'm lazy. And I ran out of contact lens fluid. Also, this:



I have no idea how I my hands could get that dirty in the milliseconds it takes to pick up my contact lens. I don't even want to know what the green stuff is. 

The Most Awkward of Concerts

My social life at the moment consists of two things: playing video games with people online and playing video games with people in person.  So when a co-worker gave me some free tickets to a concert, I jumped at the opportunity to do something that didn't involve sitting down.  Little did I know, free would be too expensive.

But before I went to the concert, I had to find someone, or someones, to go with.  Since all 5 of my friends were out of town, and imaginary friends don't need a ticket, I concluded that the best people to invite would be my siblings.  My sister and bro-law were "busy" with "work"(pffft whatever), but my brother Ross was somehow available. I silently threw a little party in my head.

The only band on the roster that I liked was Neon Trees, the other three I had never heard or heard of, but I'm not usually one to complain about free things. Usually. 

After some froyo with my bro (yo), we headed to Loveland for the concert. Our first reaction was that of confusion. Were we at the right place? "Thunder Mountain Amphitheater?" We're pretty far from the foothills, so where is this "Thunder Mountain?" And what was supposedly an amphitheater was really just a stage in front of a building, and a hill. No part of the title was particularly true, but I didn't want to nitpick.

When we caught a glimpse of the line out of the front, neither of us was shocked by the length; we were shocked that we'd be the tallest two people in the line. Middle schoolers!



The only exaggeration in this picture is the ponytail.



We'd come too far to back down. With tickets in hand, we strode through the gate, pondering what was in store for us within the "amphitheater."  I often forget that stereotypes actually exist in the real world, but was soon reminded when we saw gaggles of girls and boys living the stereotypes.  Ross and I both commented that we never did that stuff, but probably only out of a sense of smug superiority.

Luckily, we both agreed to sit in the back and make fun of everything.  There's that smugness again. The first three acts came and went, and we could never remember the name of the second guy. Yazflute? Iphone? Something along those lines.  As I was only really there for the Neon Trees, we used  the first three acts for quality time together as brothers.



Quality. Time.



Meanwhile, we commented on the tweens and their "drama," as well as their inability to sit still or watch where they were stepping. Seriously, when I was lying down on the grass, someone stepped on my hair. MY HAIR. It's literally 2 inches long. Their foot was like, right there. Seriously. And then there was this one kid that Ross and I just couldn't determine the gender of! The ambiguity! It haunts me still!  *Ahem* Sorry. I guess those kids got to me more than I'd have liked.

At that point, I started to complain about how "free" was too much of a price to pay for those tickets. Man, I'm hilarious, I thought. Through the course of the evening I was hungry, hot, sweaty, blinded by the sun and, if I'm being honest, a bit of a curmudgeon.  As the sun finally set, Neon Trees was about to get on stage.  Ross, in what was simultaneously the smartest and dumbest idea of the night, suggested we move to the front.

It was smart because we actually could see the band. It was dumb because we were heading into the beast's lair. A beast so awkward and adolescent-y. I knew I wouldn't escape without scuffed shoes and bruised toes, not to mention ruptured ear drums (from the shrieking, not the band).

For what seemed like an eternity, we waited.  My spirits fell. I started thinking about the two worst years of my primary education and the horrors I'd repressed, when suddenly the lights went out. A roar came from the crowd. Well, I say "roar," but it was more like a shrill scream. Something you'd expect from harpies. Then the band started playing.

Instantly, I forgot my surroundings. My brother and I joined the jumping and screaming. Finally, it was like a real concert.  We lost ourselves in the songs, though were periodically brought back to reality because the stupid tweens just could not sit still. On many of the call and response crowd participation moments, Ross and I felt like the only people actually participating, but we had a blast. Ross more than me, probably.

We sadly didn't stick around for the encore, but we both agreed we needed to get out of there before the rush of parents came in to pick up their "darlings." In the end, the fun outweighed the awkwardness.  And really, isn't that what it's all about....? Hmmm.... no.