Happy Holidays!

This is for everyone who can see it.
This holiday season I am unfortunately unable to get people gifts.
I figured I would give you something that the gift would give you regardless, and that's my love and friendship.
Have a happy holiday!
♥

End of the term relief.

Young Cowboy

Good Alien Cowboy

Bad Alien Cowboy

Young Cowboy Concept

Good Alien Cowboy Concept

Bad Alien Concept

3D Modeling NES Still Life

 There's two of my 5 finals.
I'm too embarrassed to show you my pre-production final. I feel like it's complete and utter shit.
You're lucky I'm even posting those character drawings for my Intro to Illustration class.
I have been feeling so incompetent lately.
I rewrote / added more stuff to Penny's Cube and the Creation Myth I wrote earlier.
I also drew some images to go along with them since it was a part of my final for Creative Writing.
My Animation Timing final is coming along well, almost finished.
3D was fun, I enjoyed the challenges of learning how to get to that point. I feel confident in my next terms classes like 3D II and Digital Environments.
This term was rough. Glad it's over.

progress

After doing some work in Maya, I produced these fine Nintendo related objects in my NES Still Life scene.
I hope I did them justice with the stuff that I learned this term. 

A Creation Story:
A tribe gathers around the big fire in the center of the camp. “We are the Zunkumi people.” This tribe, a minimalist tribe, survives by taking only what is needed and using everything to the fullest. They never waste a kill. Tonight they gather to listen to the Nahotu, or story teller.
The Nahotu sprinkles something over the fire, causing it to roar. He begins to speak as the flames start licking his arm intensely. He looks to the sky, his arms reach out to the stars. He begins to hum. A harsh rhythmic drum pluses as his hums stutter with each slam of the drum. The tribe begins to hum along too. As the tribe continues to hum he yells in his native tongue one word, “SAMBA!” He begins the story as the hums die down, the drum now a light patter. “We are thankful for the earth. We are thankful for the water. We are most thankful for the sky. They are the turtle, anaconda, and whale.” He says in his native tongue. “Long ago,” he pauses and waves his arms like the rolling tide. “The sun,”  he points up and pulls his arms wide, “and the moon,” he points down and pulls his arms inward, “danced around this rock we call home. Many a year they danced, never touching.” He balled up a fist and on his other hand he holds out one finger, as the fist chases his finger. “Never touching they dance. The sun, all powerful and immense, craved the moon. The moon was too shy, too innocent, hiding behind our rock. She always rejected him until one day they met and casted a small shadow on our rock.” He showed the fist towering over the index finger, he cupped his hands and did an exploding motion. “This interaction created the turtle.” He laid his hand flat with his thumb extended and put his other hand on top moving his thumbs. “The turtle wondered our rock, creating earth, soil.” he kneels down and picks up the dirt and sifts it through his hands. ”The sun, always desiring of the moon, chased and chased her, but she resisted like always, until one day our rock casted a shadow on her.” He showed his finger above a balled fist. “The sky filled with blue as the whale covered the rock in her glory. The whale gives us air we breathe and the beautiful skies.” His hands gesture like wind as he motions over his head. “The combination of the earth and sky birthed the anaconda. Long and winding. Like the rivers we drink from and use every day.” He pours out water onto the fire calming the flames, a low glow illuminates the tribe. “For all of these things we are thankful. Still the moon dances with the sun, always coy. When the moon casts her shadow on us, new things are born. A great day for all who live here! When we cast our shadow on the moon, we must be ready.”  The fire goes out as the tribe beings to hum again, the rhythmic pulse of the drum, fading away.

I'll post up my preproduction final when that's done, then show my other finals too. Jesus, final weeks of school suck the most when it's the most stressful. I'm hoping to get all my projects done this weekend so I can just coast and finish the term with minimal stress. 

Suicide of an artificial mind.

Peace. Emptiness. It's enveloped me as my body is resting. Warmth takes me over. I am finally comfortable. This peace, shattered by the sound of my alarm. What kind of sick joke is this? I just finally fell asleep. I open my eyes as my body jolts to life. Each blare of the alarm pierces me violently. I scramble out of bed sloppily and shut it off. A yawn and stretch over take me as I stand in the bathroom doorway. Great... Another day. How do people do this? How can we just do this every day until we die? Nobody even cares anyway. Anger and frustration takes hold, existing without purpose. Just like me. Life's a fucking joke. I turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face. Cool, refreshing, feels good. My hands rub my stubble causing irritation on my neck. I need to shave... Who cares? What ever, I take a piss, rip a fart and flush. Everything is routine. EVERYTHING. Nothing seems fun when you reach mental maturity. It's all the responsibility. I don't want it anymore. Is it because I'm lonely? I just don't know anymore. I sit at my table. A bowl of bran flakes, soggy and cold, in front of me. I eat slowly as I read yesterdays paper. Heh, another war? Another problem with another country. Another innocent murdered in cold blood. More political bullshit. No one cares about your God. Why do we get so hung up on this bullshit? Your God is the same God as mine, fucking realize it. We come from the same creator. Why are we so ignorant to everything? I wish we could all unite and just work together for the greater good of mankind. We could collectively solve all of the Earths problems by uniting under a common goal. Things would just be so much better. I head back to my room and begin to dress for work. I look at the picture frame next to my bed. The picture of my ex, smiling, reminding me of how happy we were. I open the blinds, letting in the warm light. Dust particles sparkling and flickering. As I head to the closet I stop in front of the mirror. Thickening in the body and thinning in the hair. Is this what getting old feels like? Jesus, I can't even imagine myself as an old person. Wrinkles, achy bones, dentures, and no time left. What does my future hold? I don't even know what's going to happen in 2, let alone 5 years. I just don't know. I can't imagine dying, and it's hard dealing with death. I open the closet and put on my best clothes. A white collared button up, purple tie, black slacks, black socks, my nice dress shoes, and my shiny leather belt. I slip on my jacket that matches my slacks and tighten my tie. It was hard dealing with the passing of friends and loved ones... Charlie, Justin, Irene... Laura. But know it's just the way it is. Life goes on. Just like it'll be when I die. Emptiness. Peace? My hand reaches under the pillow, gripping it's hard rubber handle tightly. My thumb reaches over and pulls back the hammer until it clicks. The chamber rolls and locks. Mortality. Fucking people with their immortality complex. People act like they are going to fucking live forever. What a joke. Why do we even bother? If everything is going to end anyways, why do we do it? Tears well up as I stare at myself in the mirror. Look at what I've become. I don't have it in me anymore. I didn't ask to exist. I didn't want this. A gift? More like a curse. I squeeze slowly and then... Silence. Peace?
A half hour passes and the police enter a simple apartment in a large complex, investigating a gunshot. In the bedroom they discover the remnants left behind by a man. A man who was made of synthetic material. A cyborg built for the human condition. Left behind by some unknown engineer. Just another suicide for the books.

Oh, hai!

Hello fellow readers. Here's some progress I made over the weekend.
I created a Mario coin block in Maya. Working on the Master Sword right now, as well as an original NES controller and Samus in morph ball mode.
The last image is of my design for Italia. Soccer design for a t-shirt.

Gummi Bears / Worms

Hey guys, just grinding along here. Coming to a close on this term. Crazy to think that we're nearing the end.
I'm excited for next term, this one was rough.
I've been doing a lot of slacking lately.

I've been writing fiction. Short stories. I'll post a few.
And some 3D progress, maybe some preproduction progress. I just scanned all of my boards into photoshop and I'm timing them out so the animatic looks decent. I see a lot of redrawing I'm going to have to do. :< Sucks. Cause I just want to be done. I have to add sfx and stuff to it or I'll never get it done.
I still have to scan my stuff I've done for illustration.

A story I wrote for Creative Writing:
Oliver and His Hero, Monster Butt.

"Hey! Come back here!" a young boy yells. He chases leaves rustling in the wind.
"Stop! It's not fair, you're too fast!" he pouts as he slams his butt on the ground. A cloud of dirt kicks up underneath him.
"Aw, c'mon, it's all in fun." The young boy looks up. His best bud smiling down on him, reaching to pick him up. "Oliver, don't be like that."
Oliver, a boy of about eight, plays alone in front of his house. Short brown hair that naturally spikes upwards, a flat nose, rosy cheeks, and deep blue eyes.
Oliver slaps his friends hand and giggles, "You're it!" and sticks his tongue out while running away. He makes it two steps and runs right into his step dad, "OOOOF!"
"Hey you little shit, watch where you're going. Now get the fuck inside."
Gerard... A built man, hard labored through his many jobs and stints through the big house. He has a long scraggly beard with long black wavy hair. Always smells of cigarettes and dirt. Oliver looks into his eyes, black, angry, staring. He quickly gets to his feet and runs inside, past mom who was cooking dinner.
"Whew! That was close, Monster Butt..." Oliver says with a sigh. He grabs a stuffed blue monster that has long arms. Monster Butt has a large grin with four big yellow teeth sticking out of the top of his mouth. The smell of hamburger helper fills the house.
"Time for supper! Come and get it Oliver!" Mom yells. There's a bit of tension in her voice.
"I'll be back Monster Butt." Oliver sits him on the chair in his room and meanders to the dinner table. Oliver slowly pokes at it. These flavors are so gross. He's tired of the sloppy salty flavors with cold buttered bread. Gerard, eating vigorously, goes in for seconds. Survival of the fittest.
"Mum..." Oliver says shyly. "I need new shoes, my shoes can talk, look!" He picks up his food and pulls down on the sole coming apart.
"Put your foot down, what the fuck is your problem? It's like you have no manors." Gerard slams his hand down, silverware clatters.
"It's okay honey, do what your dad says."
"He's not my dad." He says under his breath, "Monster Butt says-" Oliver is immediately cut off.
"THAT'S IT! GO TO YOUR ROOM!" Gerard booms.
"But I'm hungry!"
"Elise, I can't believe this is how he's acting. How the fuck did he turn out this way? You can't fucking do shit can you, you fucking..." His voice, yells and all trail off. Oliver gets up from the table and goes to his room. He reaches the hallway. Monster Butt is waiting for him, like usual. Oliver, near tears reaches for Monster Butts hand. "I know you'll protect me..."
"C'mon Oliver." Monster Butt leads him down the hallway, opens his bedroom door to a large field. The smell of hatred and hamburger helper, gone, extinguished like his tears.
"Let's do something fun!" Monster Butt lets out a belly laugh and runs towards the large building at the end of the field. "Ooooh, perfect spot for hide and seek, huh!?"
"YEAH!" Oliver smiles and gets ready for rock paper scissors, the only way to settle who gets to hide and who has to seek. Slap, slap, bang! Rock. Oliver wins. He gets to hide. "Ha ha! I always win!" Monster Butt smiles wider and covers his big yellow eyeballs. His long blue arms and dark green hands hide him away while the countdown begins.
Oliver scurries around. This place is weird. He's never been here before... "Twenty!" Oliver scrambles for a place to hide. "Fifteen!" He finds a small closet with a vacuum and other supplies in it and squeezes in, the door cracked so he can peek out with one eye. "Five, four, three, two... Ready or not, here I come!" Monster Butt laughs, Oliver giggles. "He's going the wrong way!" He whispers.
There is a large slam and a door opens. A low growl rumbles. Oliver gets scared, the hair on his neck stands up. He tries to get a better view of what that noise was. He whispers, "Monster Butt, are you okay?" A large black body slithers in, then out of sight. Long black wavy hair and the smell of dirt. The body looks back. Big red eyes form a thin black slit. Large mean eyebrows scan the room. It's mouth opens, revealing rows and rows of sharp white teeth. "Where are you.." pours out of its mouth as if a whisper, a low cackle. It slinks around and spots Oliver peeking out of the closet. Its large three fingered talon grabs Oliver by the arm as he curls into a defensive position. It's grip is forceful, pulling him from the closet. A crash from the vacuum rings and echos. The monster grabs Oliver and covers his mouth. Oliver, breathing heavily through his nose starts to cry. The monster grins a toothy grin, "Why you cryin'?" His breath hot, stinging his eyes. Oliver feels a sharp pain on his leg as it goes numb. The force jostles him, a muffled yelp escapes as the monster tightens his grip around his mouth. A rustle and the sound of rapid footsteps sound as Oliver sees dark green claws and long blue arms wrap around the monsters thick black neck. It releases Oliver and he lays on the ground, unable to move. Monster Butt, roaring and bearing his teeth grips onto the black beast as it flails to get him off. The beasts talons rip at Monster Butts arms. Orange pours out from his scratches. Roars and growls are traded as the black beasts mouth opens and closes. Monster Butt stands protectively over Oliver. Orange spilling into little dots on the ground. He lets out a massive roar and the black beast retreats. Oliver cries as monster Butt picks him up and takes him outside.
"I'm sorry buddy, I wasn't fast enough..."
Oliver looks at his wrist, a bruise has formed already. He grabs onto Monster Butts fur and lets the tears carry him away.
"Thank you Monster Butt, you're my hero..."


Another Story:
Penny's Cube

It's another typical night for Penny as she tucks a towel under the door crack to hide the light from her TV. It's after her bed time but she's not ready to sleep. Her new video game, Robot Clash, has her hooked. She's probably another hour and a half away from a checkpoint. Her volume is turned so low that all you can hear is the soft mashing of the buttons. Don't wanna get caught! She hears her moms door close as she pauses the game, listening intently. She scans her room, her eyes float across her several trophies. Her mind is sharp. The trophies are from several science fairs. She likes engineering, A LOT.
A large rumble causes her trophies to shake on the shelves. The rumbling gets more intense until there's a large flash of light and a crash outside. She rushes to the window only to see a smoke trail. She excitedly forgets about the game on pause, and the new mess of trophies on the floor, slips on her boots with out even tying them. She rushes outside in an oil stained white spaghetti strap, ripped jeans, ratty black hair and her trusty goggles. The smell of smoke is heavy in the air, her eyes widen with excitement. She leaves her backyard and discovers a huge crater in the road in her alley. "This is so weird!" she exclaims, "It's like something out of a video game!" She walks around the crater, examining it for any signs of life. Heat is resonating from the center, almost like opening the oven door, or like that last robot she built that blew up in her face. The smoke begins to clear, lights begin to flick on around the neighborhood. Her heart races. She goes down into the crater slowly, as to not lose her footing. As she looks down a glint of shiny metal catches her eye. A new element to discover, or a piece of space junk? She kneels down to examine it closer. She dusts off a cube. Perfectly shaped. Shiny, chrome like, smooth, and very intricate. She decides it's definitely not junk and begins to pick it up. The cube is 19x19x19, or so she calculates. Sirens are heard off in the distance. She sees faces now peering out of the windows of the neighborhood. "Gotta get this back inside and see what it really is!" She says as she runs back into the house. As she's running her hands explore the smooth surfaces.
She heads to the door, the lights are on, mom must be up. She hopes that mom isn't looking for her. She opens the door and begins to silently sneak back into her room. "Hey!" Penny jumps, startled. "Are you okay?" her mom asks. "I think there was an earthquake or something." She tries to hide the cube behind her back and fumbles around with it a bit. A light click and a low whir starts to hum. The cube shrinks in size and fits in her palm. "Yeah, okay mom, I'm okay." She says as she begins to run up the stairs to her room. She slides on her goggles, places the box down on her work table with her favorite wrench in her hand. "Hmm." She hits her hand with the wrench, thinking. "Well there's no buttons, no knobs, no switches..." Her hands go over the surfaces again, "Whelp..." She winds up. SLAM! She bangs it with her wrench. The cube hisses, steam, pressure releases. A gear shifts and metal grinds. The cube slowly unfolds. A strand of bundled wires plops out, sparking. Two arms drop from the center of the cube, limp shiny metal. An object that looks like a head juts up from the center on an awkward post that may be a neck. "A robot?!" Penny exclaims. The wires, she notices the bundling looks a lot like the T-48-Eighty-Niner she built a few summers ago. What a disaster. She slips on thick rubber gloves and examines it closer. The casing is different but the connectors she has could make something work here."Hmmmm." She attaches a plug that monitors electrical output. The wires emit an electrical pulse, as if alive, rhythmic, like a heartbeat. She gets her wire cutters and begins to connect the wires to one of her extra plugs laying around. "I wonder..." she murmurs as she unplugs the cable from her game console to the T.V. completely disregarding it. She plugs in the robots cord and as she does the screen on her T.V. begins to receive feedback. No sound, but images. Flashing quickly on the screen, space, weird planets, fire, explosions. Just like her video game. "This... Is.... Awesome..." she says as she gets comfortable. The images of space again. Awesome nebula, black holes, super massive black holes, galaxies, more planets, and oh, the Milky Way. She sits watching as the video plays. What ever this is was flying through space turns around from showing the Milky Way to showing a ton of twilight sparkles. Dazzling, like a sparky dress, beautiful and elegant. We see Jupiter, then Mars, almost hit the Moon, fire, bright intense light, then shakes and crash. "Well, that was interesting." She says as she unplugs the bot.
Morning comes as usual, although today sunlight begins to touch the crater in the alleyway, the police do not cross line flapping in the breeze. Penny slings her bag on her shoulder as she heads out to school, wiping her tired eyes. Class, as usual. Boring old English. This doesn't benefit her at all. She hardly pays attention, drifting into her thoughts. She stares outside. The teachers voice, a low inaudible sound effect blabbers. Blue sky, faded white moon, full and radiant even though it's daytime. She notices little twilight sparkles in the sky. She gets up without even asking and begins to run outside. She tries to get a better look at the little glints in the sky. Smoke trails as if we're being bombarded by meteors. The glints come crashing down to Earth. Several sparkles and smoke trails. A massive cube crashes down in the football field in front of her. Grinding and clanking of metal is heard as a sound is heard that cannot be described. More crashing around her. Terror and panic strikes Penny. She can't think straight but fight or flight kicks in and it's clearly flight. As she's running she looks to the sky, the Moon. A crack begins to form on the lower part of the Moon. She stops dead in her tracks jaw almost on the floor. She can't believe her eyes. Large robotic creatures fire onto buildings. The electronic sound now harmonized with the several other invaders. The Earth shakes as the moon splits into three pieces with rubble between them. It slowly drifts apart as she feels an unnatural tug on her body. Sirens begin to howl and roar as Penny runs home.

Here's a descriptive writing example from class:
An average sized man could be the best way to describe him. Not too tall, nor fat, but not skinny either, but proud. You can see it in his stance. It demands honor. He is built. Built for justice and honor. His hair is hidden by his helmet, his body shielded by pleated armor. His age is unknown but in his eyes you see experience. His voice, guttural and low, forceful. It attacks you. His tone only reflects that of experience as well. You can hear the battles won and the honor. He smells of sweat and tea, a light hint of saki. His armor feels of silk and iron. A light kiss of leather. It rests on him lightly, allowing him to move quickly and freely. His armor, crafted by only the best, allows him to uphold his families honor as well as his emperors. He rests his hand on the hilt of his blade.

PreProStuff

Halloween! And other stuff.

So here's an update on my life so far as far as art goes.
I decided, with my bud Jon, that we'd be TF2 (Team Fortress 2) characters. Since I had some stuff already I decided to go Pyro and Jon went Spy.
Well, we entered our school contest and won best overall costume on campus. Which was cool because there were over 20 entries.
There's the progress of the grenades. They wouldn't adhere very well to my costume but the picture we took for the school had me wearing them.
Oh, and my poetry portfolio went over really well. I did a reading of a few in front of the class.
My instructor, who is the local laureate, said I had some good range as far as tone and form went.
That was cool to hear, so now we're onto short stories and character building through writing and what not. I find this to be a bit more difficult than I originally thought.
3D is coming along nicely. I'm going to start modeling some N64 stuff for practice because that's what Maya polygons remind me of. I did a sea creature, which could be better, using only duplicate special and grouping on the limited geometry in NURBS. I created a 1913 Pioneer using only extrude, loft and rotate. Then created a partial to a tank using the same method. Now we're using polygons and learning about faces and vertex manipulations. You can speed build stuff no problem.
In Pre-Production we're just fucking around. We got our stories to do but our teacher isn't really letting us finish it because of all the other stuff he's assigning us. He gives us these pop quiz take home exercises and it takes a lot of time and effort to complete. We should have our boards scanned into After Effects already, with sound but he's making this complicated with more work.
In my intro class to Illustration, I feel like I'm doing okay. At first I felt like I might not be cut out for it but my instructor has boosted my confidence with critiques that were a bit shocking to hear, from him especially. So that's cool to hear. I'll post up the few assignments I've done for him soon.
My animation timing class is awesome. We're learning some lip syncs right now. Our instructor is making us animate to Bruce Cambell quotes!! It's hilarious.

Here's some of my creative writing.
This was something short:
The 17?
Life was hard. Growing up after the bomb... No one really there. Weeks of searching only turned up 16 other survivors. Their ages ranged from 6 to 17. Scavanging for food. Learning to kill, to hunt. Killing to survive. Only we know these hard times, it seems. Survival isn't easy. Just march forward. Try to forget. Feels like yesterday...
A young man, rushing around bumps into a worn man. The young man speaks excitedly.
Oh my god! You're one of the legends, huh!? You're one of the legendary 17! I've heard all about your exploits from 40 years ago. You should write a book man! That information is invaluable. How was it growing up in the wastes? I bet it was easy for you- You're a legend. I heard you killed the local bandits like nothing. Slaughtering the leader just for kicks. What was it like? Are the other 16 here?




1 Page Story:
     Through the clouds the sun kisses the cold plains. A worn castle stands tall, proud. Little smoke stacks wisp to the sky, the huts scattered on the outside of the castle. A troop of soldiers rally as a large bearded warrior yells in a booming voice, "IT'S A GOOD DAY TO DIE!"
Cheers followed, roaring, and clanging metal. This bearded warrior, the best of the best. Long time survivor and second to only the king. His face covered in long scraggly hair. An x shaped scar covers his cheek. He smiles as he raises his battle ax. An engraved gold blade with a long carved iron wood handle. The grips in his ax are carved in for a better hold. It has seen many skulls and limbs. The soldiers train and train, for one last glorious battle to rule the land. One last resistance to wipe out. They set out, one last march. Chants of the battle march ring on as the earth shakes with their step.
     The resistance, large in capacity, forced in a corner so to speak, driven to one last ditch effort to escape the king. Every little thing rides on this one battle. The troops amass with a sliver of green between them and the kings army. Taunting each other, the clouds cover the sky. As the last bit of sunlight gets swallowed by the clouds the battle begins. Vicious blows and murder lash out. A light snow begins to fall. The kings hero slowly makes his way to the rebel leader. The rebel leader, a tall slender man, with long flowing black hair, wields a longsword with elegance and grace. He dispatches the kings men withe ease.
     A hearty boom from the kings hero alerts the rebel leader. A war cry, seemingly boosting his attack, while startling the rebel troops allows him to get in close and engage the rebel leader. The rebel leader, clearly unaffected by the battle cry, swiftly dodges his overhead blow, sliding to safety. the kings hero swings with a savage blood lust, a flurry of blows being masterfully dodged by the rebel leader. The rebel leader returns with an attack that seems to stop time. The warriors shocked at what they see. the blow cuts the kings hero in half from the head down. When the rebel leaders sword strikes the ground a blue shock wave emanated across the field. Flowing through each and every body and soul fighting. What is to become of the land now? The rebel leader looks to the sky as a barrage of snow and wind sweep over the battlefield.

Developing on the 17 idea:
     A light. Blaring through the darkness of my eyelids. As I come to my senses I feel the heat of the sun. Heat. It's all it gives me. Aside from constant thirst. My eyes strain to adjust. Must've been a good nights rest. I roll my sleeves up. Not even a breeze, heh, it's going to be like this forever it seems. My body reminds me of yesterday. My arms are sore from digging trenches.
     "MAP!" I yell. Shuffling and clamoring as the group realizes I'm awake. Twelve of us. It's all I could find. And rescue...
     "Why do we keep this up?" A voice yelled from the small crowd.
     "Yeah! We're workin' ourselves to death!"
     "I'm tired!"
     "We don't even know where the river is!"
     "How's this going to work?!"
     "You're killing me!"
      The group, obviously doubting me. This makes me sick. I've busted my ass saving all of you and now you doubt me. I sigh and unfold the map. The map is dated. Really dated, it's clearly been forever since the day of the Red Sky and even longer since this map has been made. I just have to trust my gut instinct. I know I can get a steady supply of crops going, but we have to connect our tench to the river. A river that we don't even know exists. I open my chapped lips to speak,
     "I know you guys are hurting." I wipe sweat from my face. " I am too. But we have to keep going. Have I ever lead you wrong before?"
     "We're sick of this shit! We've been digging for months and I'm running ragged. It's getting harder to hunt out here, we're losing it man!"
     "YEAH!" The group cries out in agreement.
     I look up to the sky. A cool breeze kisses my neck. A sign? A good sign.

Sick!

A new one that'll finish my poetry portfolio for Creative Writing.  

You are only as sick as your secrets.

You are only as sick as your secrets.
Those deep thoughts that are only thought.

Never said.

Just hanging around on heavy hangers in your dark drawer of a mind.
Only you open the drawer.

Those thoughts...

Dried out and smelling of dust... Age...

You’re only as sick as your secrets.

These secrets, no one dares hear them.
All of those seconds spent- adding up to minutes- piling into hours-

Hours spent shuffling through the drawer.
Adding new slips of secrets to the pile.

You’re only as sick as these secrets.

They do it all the same. Everyone has their own drawer.

They’re only as sick as their secrets.

I sit in my dark drawer, lost in it all.
We’re only human. Wanting everything but sharing nothing.

You’re only as sick as your secrets.

Grab the trash bin.
Time to clean up. Clean house.

Renew- Regrow- Share- Feel something new.

A forgotten ritual

You’re only as sick as those secrets.

S'more writings

Here are some revisions that I did to some poetry.
Helplessly
A generator firing on all cylinders grinds to a halt, sporadically
As the power slowly fades all the lights go dark, systematically

You sink into darkness in your little room. Fear grips you, unrelentingly
Will you ever get out of this? In the darkness you wait, helplessly

Here's one called
A solid quest to find Mii
Swinging and blocking blows.
Shouting and casting spells.

Her shield, heavy.
Her sword, even more heavy.

Her mind, tired.
Her voice, even more tired.

Poison, fire, icy and jynx
Deeper and deeper our hero sinks.

Clangs of claw and steel is all she hears.
Can this hero dispel the realm's fears?

Through all the rooms in search of the king,
The hero is true, her final blow rings.

Saved all the land, and did all she can.
Resting in peace, this journey had ceased.

The room has gone dark, but she hears one last hark.
Come find me again, but this time bring friends!

Here's a piece called,
My best friend, CUPID.
Fool, you inconsiderate FOOL!
Don't you see where you're aiming!?  You've hit me many times.

I yank your arrows from me, angrily.
Your aim is not TRUE.
You must have missed because this is not right.

Our friendship is bullshit!
You're a shitty wing man.
How do they confuse you with love?

Bombarding me- repeatedly, forcefully!
These wounds hound me.

"Love" they call you!? This is trash!
More like desire, and lust.

My heart- so jaded and broken already
Fucking asshole! Why do you skew my vision?

You are ruining my perception of happiness.
Love and affection? More like lies and deceit.

Bleh.

Being human. Learning.
We are here for something.
That something is to learn.
To be human is to suffer.
Humans are the only things in this Universe that can comprehend this feeling.
Reflect on it. Learn from it.
We learn here, on Earth, that life is a struggle. A battle between the smiles and the frowns.
We must learn to suffer, and see the joy of life that sparks through it.

Positivity

I got a lot of positive feedback from my poetry. I hear that there's a lot of, feeling, and emotion in my work. Which is great. I just need to invest in a thesaurus so I can play with that lyrical imagery.

Here's some stuff that I've done since.

 Here's a blues poem. Feel the beat.
I can't help but think. I can't help but think.
What my life could have been, without you around.

I can't help but wonder. I can't help but wonder.
Could I or would I, be as strong today?

You made my life so hard. You made my life so hard.
I can't help but think. I can't help but wonder.
Where I'd be, without that life.

You made mylife so hard. I can't help but wonder.
Who I'd be right now.

Here's some others:
Roaring through, crashing along
Existing for something but just staying busy
All meet their end, no way is wrong
Lashing, breaking, strong or fuzzy
Illusions cover us, but which way is right?
Tough is the choice to continue
Yearning for answers but search within you.



This one describes a tough spot in my life-
My hunger builds as I crave
     I must be strong and power through
     'Lest my actions sweep over you
I am this feelings slave

My desire is to taste your flavor
     My bodies functions power down
     As the tings I crave crowd around
With in my mind, emotions waiver

It's driving me so crazy... It's in my dreams
Instead.. I'll just be lazy. I'm hungry, or so it seems.

I'll have my two revisions up once I get them back next week.
Here's some reflecting on stuff:
Wearing masks... Changing your face frequently-
Who are you really? You think you know. But you're a LIAR.
I don't have to lie. I wear the same mask.
The one I was born with and grew into.
For once just take off your mask and feel your lies, FEEL IT. Revel in it. Relish it.
Because it's all YOU.

Poetry.

The first half of my creative writing class is about poetry.
We'll get into stories after the halfway mark.
Here's some of the stuff I've written.
I hope you enjoy it.

Here's a quick like, writing thing we did for our first class. I think our instructor wanted to gauge our writing skills.

Loud echoing footsteps fill the halls, but as we approach a side room section off by hanging cloth, we hear the sound of strings being played. I say we because you are here with me- not literally, but hopefully you understand. The strings remind me of a play I saw recently, "The Lonely Violin."
Ah, my mind waivers, that's a different story for another time. I must remember I'm here for what's mine. I open the cloth and scan the room. A gasp of terror is heard. The sound of the strings stops as I draw closer. Drunk again, as usual, opiates too, undoubtedly, poor child. Not my responsibility... My eyes catch a flicker from the outside. The smell of the countryside is delightful, but I'd much rather enjoy the taste of their fear. Long have I waited for this day. I take back what's mine. I draw my pistol and place it on the table. She knows I mean business. She clutches the child, like a shield. As if that'll help. More reason why I pity the child. I rustle around her drawers, keeping my eyes locked on hers. Ah, at last! My stone! As I pick it up and look at it, she shrieks. I snatch my pistol. My precious stone. it's all I need. I can finish what I started, but as for the girl... Punishment doesn't seem right. I clench the stone as the countryside breeze hits me. I draw a dagger. Let's make this more personal.

This one is called rain.
A love hate relationship between you and I.
How I love your smell and appreciate everything you do but hate your touch.
You tease me with your beauty. Soak me with your sorrow.
your sounds are so sweet, but you bring me down.
Riding my bike with you gives me cold feet.

This one is called Deviljho.
Tall and magificent you stand above all
OH JHO, you King of Kings
Swipe blindly with your reckless elegance
Your scales emanating your pulsing dragon rage
Hunger is all you know
Fee among everything until there is no more, you world eater
You King of Kings
Your green scales and yellow spikes heavy with drool
I will conquer you, hammer in hand I charge forward









This one is a poem that had to describe myself as an animal.
Stalwart like a turtle I stride, slowly towards my goals.
As a tortoise survives the harsh deserts I too survive my challenges
Endurace is my middle name
Like a turtle withdraws his head from conflict,
and waits it out in his protected fortress of solitude,
I too find myself withdrawing mentally, the same way

This one was a prose piece that turned into a poem.  You'll see...
A worn hero charges forward. Weary from fighting a long battle.
Paths lain with ghouls, ghosts, slime creatures, mummies, and mage skeletons were her challenges until now.
Her shield, heavy. Her sword, even more heavy.
Her mind, tired. Her voice, even more tired.
Swinging and blocking blows.
Shouting and casting spells.
This is it. Time to focus and do what destiny has put before you.
Clangs of claw and steel is all you hear
Can this hero dispel the worlds fear

Some reflections on death.
A haiku, even though it's not weather related.
Please don't forget me
I have done so much for you
Escape into nothing

A reflection on death:
   For all the things I'll ever be, dead will be the best one, 'cause I'll be that the longest.

Another reflection:
Not living your life is like being dead already.
Please, for the sake of EVERYTHING-
JUST BE
Don't stress, just act and react.
Let your heart live to ease your mind.

More reflecting on death.
A generator firing on all cylinders grinds to a halt
as the power slowly fades all the lights go dark, systematically

You sink into darkness in your little room. Fear grips you.
Will you ever get out of this?

Here's a reflection on some feelings I have. It's still kind of personal but I don't mind sharing it here.
A budding plant with many branches
So tall you grow

I wish to climb you, explore every branch
I imagine your fruit is sweet

Some branches scratch
Some break easily
But I'll care for you regardless.

I know it's not the art you want to see, but this is what I have for now.

Sorry...

Look. I know I said that I'd post up some art here in a bit, but I lied.
I'm so lazy right now. I have to scan my sketch book and stuff that I've done so far so that way you guys can see how shitty I've been doing.

But it's just hard to do it.
I'll probably post some of my poetry here too. Why not? It's a good creative outlet.

So, here to some work being posted.... Soon... Hopefully...

Damn!

Hello, lonely reader. Thanks for reading and checking back with my blog.
Even though I don't know who you are, I appreciate you stopping by!
Now that I've thanked you I just want to apologize for the lack of posting for the last bit.
I've been getting geared up over the summer for taking my education very seriously.
I want to admit my... Sorrow for my lack of skill. Just know that I'm working on getting better.
It's all about practice. And I need a lot of it. I just don't want to lose any respect from my peers or instructors, or even you, my one viewer.
I've been working very hard at some 3D work, learning Maya, as well as developing some characters for my timing class so I can get used to animating. I've been also writing some stuff thanks to my creative writing class. So much stuff going on.
Art work soon. Promise.

NO!

Here's some shit I did for practice.

It's crazy to take time and reflect on who I was 10 years ago.
An instructor and I were talking about this before he left the school.
Things are always changing and I think that in life, we are here taking part in it but, we live so many different lives through this one adventure.
We're always searching for meaning. Some people put the things they cannot understand into God. Some just put it into what ever else. Life is crazy. Being here, then not being here. Existing to not existing. People crying that they don't have a chance but when really, all you have to do is just keep living.
Everyday is another chance to make things right.
Everyday is a fucking gift.
You have to use it.
You have to work for it.
Today is the day you make the moves to do what you want in life.

Today is the day because there may not ever be a tomorrow again.


With that being said, there's a lot of stuff for me to do. I'm gonna start taking 3D next term. I'll be doing stuff in Maya finally. I'm pretty amped about it.
I plan on doing a lot over the break.
Some basic character development, maybe some stuff for my game in flash.
Definitely do some digital paintings. Working on one right now as well as two simple comic ideas.

yawn

jesus you guys. end of the term is crazy. Got some stuff done though.

Batman: Year One Audio Project

^ That should be cool, I hope...
Got a paper / presentation done for the graphic novel, V for Vendetta. Feeling pretty good about that stuff. :3
Super tired of doing stuff lately. Just want to sleep.

I did another characterization of me as chewbacca, I'll upload the sketch soon, then upload the vector illustration of it.
Thinking about mythological creatures to do this week.
Oh, and also the end of the term.

It's all about how hard you work.

Water color with ink.
The ink helps define edges and give it some darks.
I kinda like this more than my first two attempts.

Just workin-

I did some cool sound edits today for an audio project. It's my final. I'll link it on youtube once it's done.
Earlier I tried another water color on that Hulk picture.

 

It's crazy how dark purple gets. I guess you use black as a gray.
I used purple for everything but the hair
I feel more confident using this medium. Now to learn some tricks and what not.