One journal would not have the sufficient capacity to outline the series of events that has been happening since I last wrote. Most of it would not be in the interests of most anyhow who would have little care in the day to day struggle of some random nerdy artist girl. So as usual, I’ll parse it down to the most relevant events and maybe you’ll have an idea of what life’s been like that I can’t even afford to summon up the willingness to blog as I used to. Lesse…
-I had a job at a boutique shop that you prolly heard about. Was fired a week into it due to selling cigarettes to a minor when I should have gotten her ID. Lucky me that I just happened to make the mistake with an agent from the Revenue of Taxation. Was kinda bummed out for a while about that.
-Me and my roommate’s van was out for weeks (from the last week of August to around the middle of October). He forced his van up the hill we’re currently residing (and the hill is quite steep) while it was out of gas and blew something out, rendering the thing undrivable.
His first mistake was trusting one of his friends to fix it, a guy who has no formal teaching or license in auto mechanics but trusts him to be the best around. After dicking around for four weeks (4 weeks) , he finally got around to settling down with the thing and even he admitted he had no idea what was wrong with it. What they suspected to be the fuel pump that blew out turned out it wasn’t the case when the van still wouldn’t start.
Then he tried the mechanic from the tow shop our landlord works at, confident he could fix it. Guess who felt stupid the next day.
Finally, my roommate did the first smart thing he did since our van broke down and told our tower landlord to just take it to someone with a diagnostics machine…someone reputable who could actually fix it. The van ended up going to a mechanic on Swamp Road. Mention this to anyone on Guam and they will groan sympathetically. It took him…oh, iono. It –seemed- like ten weeks before he finally fixed it. All throughout the time he gave us every excuse in the book- the O2 sensor was bad, you don’t have the right fuel pump, the computer box needed to be replaced. On the day he finally drove it up to the house claiming to fix it, a day prior he was telling us another part needed to be replaced right before his house’s power was cut off. It runs, but it had a host of major problems that weren’t there when we first gave it to him. And the little shit still had the nerve to keep calling to ask for his pay.
-Due to van catastrophe, we pretty much ran ourselves broke (we were borrowing money and scraping up whatever savings we could, most of it being used on the van and keeping ourselves alive). We couldn’t work because we had no car to get anywhere, having to pay people to lend us rides. We finally applied for financial aide when our van was finally fixed and it took a load off the majority of our expenses, giving us some reprieve to get back on our feet.
-I grew more eager with my art upon joining PMD-Explorers. Figured its Pokemon that perked me out of my artist’s block, but I’ve come to accept that Pokemon is a vast opportunity to practice design on different creatures as well as getting back on the RP groove that I’d lost years ago. The group unfortunately has its set-backs which I attempt to ignore, though for how long is questionable.
-I attempted to make money off commissions in desperation. My concentration isn’t the greatest working on it, however, I’ve been doing my best to have it all done.
-I nearly got into a fight with the neighbors over an off-comment. Let’s just say I have a way with words that ticks people off, though I don’t mean how they interpreted it to be. And not with the intention to set someone off enough to beat my ass- I’m such an asshole trolololol. But in all seriousness, the incident made me hellbound to move the instant I’m able to- everyone in that place is quite intolerable. It was bad enough that I’m kind enough to clean the house after everyone, but it only encourages them to pick after themselves less and less to a point where I can’t even go out for a day and come back with beer cans littering every table and floor with leftover food and ants swarming over them, every eating utensil that I spend a good chunk of my day washing carelessly thrown back out. There isn’t even a fucking sink to wash that shit in- it’s a faucet over a small canal, and I squat and bend over it for a good half an hour scrubbing and disinfecting the dishes because they are literally just thrown out in the yard. One roommate goes through our water and coffee like a fat kid on crack, and the other is so cheap he won’t even go to refill the five gallon bottle for $1.25, even when he has a job, is getting our rent and retirement benefits and we aren’t getting squat.
Not to mention that ever since the car wreck (if you haven’t heard yet…yes, I’ve been in a head on collision and lucky enough to get off with just seatbelt bruises), just driving anywhere stresses me the fuck out. Of course, that’s only true if its someone else (especially my roommate) driving, and I can drive on my own just fine. Its that crushing feeling of having no control, of anticipating the moment where you just feel a sharp jerk and hoping that nothing smashes your head in. After every drive my nerves are just shattered, and of course it doesn’t help that my roommate is an asshole driver. I desperately need my own car.
-We had put an ad on the paper for caretaker and carpenter services and had a few people interested. I’m currently a caregiver for an elderly man and the man that hired me offered me to work in his daughter’s boutique nearby, letting me be more accessible to helping him while also doing a little more than working a day a week. Hopefully that works out. Although taxing, I do actually like doing it.
That’s life as it is now. I’m living well but broke as hell, but hopefully I’ll be getting back to that ‘start to live my own life’ plan that seemed to be indefinitely on hold. I’ve gone through such moments of desperation that I’ve actually started to pray…I don’t have much religious faith, but when you’ve got nothing left to lose, I guess its all you’ve got.
~Taddle
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
Bad Luck Week
So many things have happened since I wrote last. So many things to talk about. For an attempt to change my way of life, which was essentially non-existent, I may have bitten off more than I can chew. Let’s see if I can build up from start to end in an organized matter, starting with why I’ve been horribly inactive with my online activity.
About around the point of my last entry, I’ve been quite depressed with the progress I was making. I couldn’t do anything, the places I’ve sought help for (Job Corps) were determined to make it as much of a struggle for some kind of self sufficiency as they can, which only further demotivated me from trying. I’m not really sure what I was doing at that point- I think I just decided to get distracted from online games and wait for something to happen.
Cue event one. Someone had responded to a personals ad I put up online looking for people to hang out with. Because I had nothing else going on and figured I didn’t have much else to lose, I decided why the hell not (note to kids: Never EVER meet strange people without a friend or someone you know with you. And never meet on their terms- always go to a place with plenty of people around, or familiar enough that you know were you can get help, just in case. I broke both those rules that night.). He and his friend wanted to go hang out at a bar and then at a party afterwards, and sent his friend to pick me up since he apparently lived closer to me. And they all seemed like a cool bunch, if only because they acted a lot like people my own age, and people with active social lives. I didn’t feel like I had to prove something to them, so for the first time, I actually enjoyed myself. The guy that had picked me up was especially nice that, after telling him my job problems, he was actually willing to help me. I didn’t think anything of it- a lot of people all say the same thing and I never hear from them again, so I just nodded and went on home.
Cue event two. He actually calls back the next day and offers to take me around places to look for work. We visit a bunch of his mates who point us to a few places, and end up going to see different parts of the island. This went on in the course of a few days, which I felt were the best times I had since I got on Guam. Not just because I had someone actually willing to finally show me around, but willing to help me, and I felt I was actually making some progress somewhat. I spent a lot less time at home, that much I can say proudly. He trusted me enough (somehow) to drive his van when he started working (although I can only assume that because his van is so shoddy and beaten up that if I bump it into something, it wouldn’t really make much difference), so I had plenty of time to practice and get used to driving, though admittedly it was scary at first hulking around a big sized van on my own. Eventually, I fell into driving quite comfortably without freaking out, and progressively got my job requirements done.
Cue event three. Just when I thought everything was going right for once, bad luck decided to rear its ugly head and give me the whipping of my life. It all started when I was going to an interview at a gift shop at one of the fancy hotels down town. It wasn’t a very far drive from my place, maybe ten minutes at best. Still, I got caught along the main street by police passing through the nearby mall, and I panicked. I don’t know if I made some traffic violation or anything because I wasn’t really paying attention and just driving as normal. I stopped at the side of the road and they directed me to go to a parking lot in one of the nearby condos. Now, me getting caught by the police was NOT a good thing, mostly because I didn’t have the license to be driving on my own. Due to the most retarded law I’ve ever heard, I’m not allowed to get a license until I’ve held a learner’s permit for six months. Even when I’ve already been through all the school requirements (which was also dumb), have a state permit and already fulfilled those hours, technically meaning I won’t be getting a license till next year at –best-. And while I was in the driver’s seat, shakily trying to find the registration and insurance papers they were asking for, I asked why they had pulled me over, if I had done something wrong. What they told me wasn’t something I expected- it wasn’t anything I did; they just noticed that the tags on the van were expired. No big deal. At least it shouldn’t have been, but they found out that I didn’t have the proper license to be driving so they scolded me on that. I was also in trouble because what papers I did find were not under my friend’s name, but under the former owner of the car. As it turns out, he never updated the registration and insurance of the car, so as a result, they had to confiscate the license plates and have it towed someplace until I can get that done, on top of paying for the citation ticket they gave me for driving a vehicle without those things (it was either because it was my first violation or that I was crying horribly that they decided to waive my violation of driving without a licensed driver). Needless to say, it wasn’t a good day for me. I never made that job interview.
Cue event four. So we spent the rest of the day figuring out what to do- me, my friend and his cousin that was living with him. In some diabolical twist of fate, what would have been a simple task of getting everything sorted out and the van back and running within the day turned far more complicated than it should have been. For one, it turns out my friend had a bench warrant for his arrest sometime in the past (not sure if that was when he was on island back in ’98 or something more recently), and, as his cousin warned, going to the DMV to get the registration would cause them to find his record and get him apprehended. His cousin apparently can’t do it because he was currently on probation for an earlier assault charge (a different story on that, but trust me when I say that it was probably worth it), and I couldn’t do it because- OHSHIT- I need a fucking driver’s license. Sigh. I’m not sure if they called friends or not, but apparently none of them were either eligible or willing to help. My friend probably decided that no matter what he tried to do, he’d be screwed either way, because he needed that van to get to work. Which probably prompted his very ill-advised decision to go out the next day to get the registration and insurance anyway, despite the risks his cousin warned about. It probably wasn’t risky enough, because he decided to drive the –van- to do it (the car we were using previously decided to conveniently break down and become unusable). It wasn’t a good decision at all, since it was a Saturday at the time, and most of the places he’d needed to go to were closed for the weekend. I’ll…let you figure out what happened next, because it was all too obvious.
Cue event five. So I spent the rest of the weekend stressing over the van, because we left it back in that town and I was having problems coordinating with his cousin and the towing company to get it back home. I had been asking my relatives at the time if I could borrow their cars but there were always excuses. “I need to go to a part time job”, even when he never left the house to do that job. “I need the car to work” even when she stays indoors in the hotel for the entire day straight and would have no feasible use for the car whatsoever, even letting my cousin exchange his car for hers. “I need to take them to Chuck E Cheeses” when I asked him again about the car, saying that taking my cousin and her kid was far more important than me trying to get my things done. At some point, my friend’s cousin managed to finally get his car fixed and we finally managed to retrieve the van, and thus began the long week of trying to convince my aunt to help me get it registered. Because that’s all she needed to do- have her get the insurance and registration, which would cost her no more than maybe a few hours of the very small sliver of time when she is actually not working (she works morning to midnight), since me and my friend would be paying for everything. But at every instance she protests on some reason or another why she would be unable to, even when I CONFIRMED at the DMV and the insurance company themselves that there was no problem whatsoever with her registering as long as I provided the payment and papers, which I have. I don’t want to believe my aunt is as dense as she’s making herself to be, which makes me assume that she doesn’t want to help me for some reason. Which makes even LESS sense since helping me would be helping her get me out of her house and being able to finally get a job, some work, and maybe even help pay off her rent, which she has been complaining about it rising recently (and blaming me on that one day I decided to wash the clothes my friend left in his van because I would rather not have the place become some kind of biohazard when most of the reason her water prices are going up is because her daughter in law uses the washing machine almost every other day.)
So…that’s my week in a nutshell. In retrospect, I remember a black cat had run across the street one time when we were driving. I did remember saying that I wasn’t superstitious. But now…I feel like shoving my foot where my mouth is. They say in times of trouble is when you know who your real friends are, and I have to say I am quite disappointed at what I’ve come to find out about that. I’ve always accepted things as they come and never bothered anyone for help, but help is most definitely something I need right now when people ironically are unwilling to give it.
~Taddle
About around the point of my last entry, I’ve been quite depressed with the progress I was making. I couldn’t do anything, the places I’ve sought help for (Job Corps) were determined to make it as much of a struggle for some kind of self sufficiency as they can, which only further demotivated me from trying. I’m not really sure what I was doing at that point- I think I just decided to get distracted from online games and wait for something to happen.
Cue event one. Someone had responded to a personals ad I put up online looking for people to hang out with. Because I had nothing else going on and figured I didn’t have much else to lose, I decided why the hell not (note to kids: Never EVER meet strange people without a friend or someone you know with you. And never meet on their terms- always go to a place with plenty of people around, or familiar enough that you know were you can get help, just in case. I broke both those rules that night.). He and his friend wanted to go hang out at a bar and then at a party afterwards, and sent his friend to pick me up since he apparently lived closer to me. And they all seemed like a cool bunch, if only because they acted a lot like people my own age, and people with active social lives. I didn’t feel like I had to prove something to them, so for the first time, I actually enjoyed myself. The guy that had picked me up was especially nice that, after telling him my job problems, he was actually willing to help me. I didn’t think anything of it- a lot of people all say the same thing and I never hear from them again, so I just nodded and went on home.
Cue event two. He actually calls back the next day and offers to take me around places to look for work. We visit a bunch of his mates who point us to a few places, and end up going to see different parts of the island. This went on in the course of a few days, which I felt were the best times I had since I got on Guam. Not just because I had someone actually willing to finally show me around, but willing to help me, and I felt I was actually making some progress somewhat. I spent a lot less time at home, that much I can say proudly. He trusted me enough (somehow) to drive his van when he started working (although I can only assume that because his van is so shoddy and beaten up that if I bump it into something, it wouldn’t really make much difference), so I had plenty of time to practice and get used to driving, though admittedly it was scary at first hulking around a big sized van on my own. Eventually, I fell into driving quite comfortably without freaking out, and progressively got my job requirements done.
Cue event three. Just when I thought everything was going right for once, bad luck decided to rear its ugly head and give me the whipping of my life. It all started when I was going to an interview at a gift shop at one of the fancy hotels down town. It wasn’t a very far drive from my place, maybe ten minutes at best. Still, I got caught along the main street by police passing through the nearby mall, and I panicked. I don’t know if I made some traffic violation or anything because I wasn’t really paying attention and just driving as normal. I stopped at the side of the road and they directed me to go to a parking lot in one of the nearby condos. Now, me getting caught by the police was NOT a good thing, mostly because I didn’t have the license to be driving on my own. Due to the most retarded law I’ve ever heard, I’m not allowed to get a license until I’ve held a learner’s permit for six months. Even when I’ve already been through all the school requirements (which was also dumb), have a state permit and already fulfilled those hours, technically meaning I won’t be getting a license till next year at –best-. And while I was in the driver’s seat, shakily trying to find the registration and insurance papers they were asking for, I asked why they had pulled me over, if I had done something wrong. What they told me wasn’t something I expected- it wasn’t anything I did; they just noticed that the tags on the van were expired. No big deal. At least it shouldn’t have been, but they found out that I didn’t have the proper license to be driving so they scolded me on that. I was also in trouble because what papers I did find were not under my friend’s name, but under the former owner of the car. As it turns out, he never updated the registration and insurance of the car, so as a result, they had to confiscate the license plates and have it towed someplace until I can get that done, on top of paying for the citation ticket they gave me for driving a vehicle without those things (it was either because it was my first violation or that I was crying horribly that they decided to waive my violation of driving without a licensed driver). Needless to say, it wasn’t a good day for me. I never made that job interview.
Cue event four. So we spent the rest of the day figuring out what to do- me, my friend and his cousin that was living with him. In some diabolical twist of fate, what would have been a simple task of getting everything sorted out and the van back and running within the day turned far more complicated than it should have been. For one, it turns out my friend had a bench warrant for his arrest sometime in the past (not sure if that was when he was on island back in ’98 or something more recently), and, as his cousin warned, going to the DMV to get the registration would cause them to find his record and get him apprehended. His cousin apparently can’t do it because he was currently on probation for an earlier assault charge (a different story on that, but trust me when I say that it was probably worth it), and I couldn’t do it because- OHSHIT- I need a fucking driver’s license. Sigh. I’m not sure if they called friends or not, but apparently none of them were either eligible or willing to help. My friend probably decided that no matter what he tried to do, he’d be screwed either way, because he needed that van to get to work. Which probably prompted his very ill-advised decision to go out the next day to get the registration and insurance anyway, despite the risks his cousin warned about. It probably wasn’t risky enough, because he decided to drive the –van- to do it (the car we were using previously decided to conveniently break down and become unusable). It wasn’t a good decision at all, since it was a Saturday at the time, and most of the places he’d needed to go to were closed for the weekend. I’ll…let you figure out what happened next, because it was all too obvious.
Cue event five. So I spent the rest of the weekend stressing over the van, because we left it back in that town and I was having problems coordinating with his cousin and the towing company to get it back home. I had been asking my relatives at the time if I could borrow their cars but there were always excuses. “I need to go to a part time job”, even when he never left the house to do that job. “I need the car to work” even when she stays indoors in the hotel for the entire day straight and would have no feasible use for the car whatsoever, even letting my cousin exchange his car for hers. “I need to take them to Chuck E Cheeses” when I asked him again about the car, saying that taking my cousin and her kid was far more important than me trying to get my things done. At some point, my friend’s cousin managed to finally get his car fixed and we finally managed to retrieve the van, and thus began the long week of trying to convince my aunt to help me get it registered. Because that’s all she needed to do- have her get the insurance and registration, which would cost her no more than maybe a few hours of the very small sliver of time when she is actually not working (she works morning to midnight), since me and my friend would be paying for everything. But at every instance she protests on some reason or another why she would be unable to, even when I CONFIRMED at the DMV and the insurance company themselves that there was no problem whatsoever with her registering as long as I provided the payment and papers, which I have. I don’t want to believe my aunt is as dense as she’s making herself to be, which makes me assume that she doesn’t want to help me for some reason. Which makes even LESS sense since helping me would be helping her get me out of her house and being able to finally get a job, some work, and maybe even help pay off her rent, which she has been complaining about it rising recently (and blaming me on that one day I decided to wash the clothes my friend left in his van because I would rather not have the place become some kind of biohazard when most of the reason her water prices are going up is because her daughter in law uses the washing machine almost every other day.)
So…that’s my week in a nutshell. In retrospect, I remember a black cat had run across the street one time when we were driving. I did remember saying that I wasn’t superstitious. But now…I feel like shoving my foot where my mouth is. They say in times of trouble is when you know who your real friends are, and I have to say I am quite disappointed at what I’ve come to find out about that. I’ve always accepted things as they come and never bothered anyone for help, but help is most definitely something I need right now when people ironically are unwilling to give it.
~Taddle
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Minor Rant
I’m the kind of person that stops and stares at the world. I think about things no one wonders about. I care about the irrelevant, I question the unquestionable. I see things in a way no one else does- things that only ever make sense to me. Some people call me smart; I tell them I just have the time to dwell on it. It makes me different.
But the question in my mind as of late…is that really a good thing?
The world praises uniqueness and individuality, but often at what cost would one have to pay for it? People hold tight to the familiarity of conformity; to them, its their safety blanket, unwilling to face the consequences that come with breaking the norm. Subjected to judgment, alienated and unaccepted- deep inside every person is that feeling of deprivation they fear to face, because the world works only on what it ‘knows’ works, and rarely on ‘what ifs’. My views on life, my attitudes, my reactions, my philosophies, my ethics, my beliefs…they are all of what makes who I am. And yet…its these values that are often put into question by those that don’t see things in the same light. Sometimes the subject of anger or ridicule, or confusion, simply because it isn’t the norm. “You aren’t normal” they tell me, and I’m forced to step back to reevaluate myself as a person, as I have done so many countless times, wondering where I went wrong and trying to understand why it is when I don’t. And I have to force myself to change, to keep up with what they see is right, believing it’s the right thing to do when my mind says otherwise. Oftentimes I end up more confused than I was, more frustrated and more alienated, trying to compromise people’s ways with mine.
I guess this is just a backwards way of saying that I’ve never really felt I belonged anywhere. More specifically- my family. I dislike everything about the Filipino side of my family, most of what people do and believe anathema to my own way of thinking. And not quite fitting in with the American part either, never experiencing their way of life and so out of place in their setting. Its always a struggle for me, on both sides, how to be able to fit in and not feel like dead weight in their eyes. Its just…I keep going back to my past wondering what went wrong, what made me so different from everyone else. If I was just as good or better than any other person, then why can’t I succeed at life while everyone else never seems to have a problem doing so. It seems like the problems are tied to what I am, because I’m not who I’m supposed to be, or expected to be. I’m never sure of who I am, always needing someone to tell me whether what I’m doing is right or wrong, always afraid of screwing up because somehow, some way, I’ll upset someone unintentionally and get bashed for it. My extreme cynicism often shows when I joke around with people, always stating the worse in a situation though maybe this might come off as passive aggressiveness to them.
I like being who I am. I try my best to please everyone. But its hard to live in constant doubt of yourself, feeling that maybe you were better off never being around and never having to be the subject of grief to everyone around you.
~Taddle
But the question in my mind as of late…is that really a good thing?
The world praises uniqueness and individuality, but often at what cost would one have to pay for it? People hold tight to the familiarity of conformity; to them, its their safety blanket, unwilling to face the consequences that come with breaking the norm. Subjected to judgment, alienated and unaccepted- deep inside every person is that feeling of deprivation they fear to face, because the world works only on what it ‘knows’ works, and rarely on ‘what ifs’. My views on life, my attitudes, my reactions, my philosophies, my ethics, my beliefs…they are all of what makes who I am. And yet…its these values that are often put into question by those that don’t see things in the same light. Sometimes the subject of anger or ridicule, or confusion, simply because it isn’t the norm. “You aren’t normal” they tell me, and I’m forced to step back to reevaluate myself as a person, as I have done so many countless times, wondering where I went wrong and trying to understand why it is when I don’t. And I have to force myself to change, to keep up with what they see is right, believing it’s the right thing to do when my mind says otherwise. Oftentimes I end up more confused than I was, more frustrated and more alienated, trying to compromise people’s ways with mine.
I guess this is just a backwards way of saying that I’ve never really felt I belonged anywhere. More specifically- my family. I dislike everything about the Filipino side of my family, most of what people do and believe anathema to my own way of thinking. And not quite fitting in with the American part either, never experiencing their way of life and so out of place in their setting. Its always a struggle for me, on both sides, how to be able to fit in and not feel like dead weight in their eyes. Its just…I keep going back to my past wondering what went wrong, what made me so different from everyone else. If I was just as good or better than any other person, then why can’t I succeed at life while everyone else never seems to have a problem doing so. It seems like the problems are tied to what I am, because I’m not who I’m supposed to be, or expected to be. I’m never sure of who I am, always needing someone to tell me whether what I’m doing is right or wrong, always afraid of screwing up because somehow, some way, I’ll upset someone unintentionally and get bashed for it. My extreme cynicism often shows when I joke around with people, always stating the worse in a situation though maybe this might come off as passive aggressiveness to them.
I like being who I am. I try my best to please everyone. But its hard to live in constant doubt of yourself, feeling that maybe you were better off never being around and never having to be the subject of grief to everyone around you.
~Taddle
Friday, June 10, 2011
Random Crack 06-11-2011
Conversation that stemmed...uhmm...this:
Vizier Tempus: I can see it now: you bring a friend over, tell them to hold on while you grab a jacket, and they're shocked to see a man in a banana hammock standing in the closet holding a rose in his mouth. =3=
O bby~
~Taddle
Vizier Tempus: I can see it now: you bring a friend over, tell them to hold on while you grab a jacket, and they're shocked to see a man in a banana hammock standing in the closet holding a rose in his mouth. =3=
O bby~
~Taddle
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Sketchdump 05-29-11
(Actual conversation that motivated the making of this journal:
Vizier Tempus: P.S. Do your journal, even if it's a short one, or I'll set fire to your tree >:(
Rej: DX OKAY.
Vizier Tempus: Sure waffles could just bring it back BUT I'M WARNING YOU.
Rej: FINE I'LL DO IT JEEZ. >.< )
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I don't really have much to contribute as of late. My time in Guam is a dodgy one as I continue in my efforts to find employment and lead myself to self-sufficiency. I often wonder what I'm doing wrong, though, cause it certainly isn't a lack of trying. I've applied to every position I could possibly perform within the limitations of my experience (which sadly isn't that much). That unfortunately cuts me off a vast majority of opportunities, leaving only entry level jobs which are quickly being usurped by the Filipinos that are migrating from the Philippines to live here. USURPERS.
I do follow up on my applications, even when the last thing I like doing is further nagging people to look over it, and most of the time I'm simply told to wait out the period and not call up. Guam isn't a very big place so there really isn't a lot of demand, especially now that its in a huge recession due to the Japan tsunami (the economy mainly thrived on Japanese tourism). I picked a perfect time to arrive huh. Adding to the pressure of my mom demanding I return home since it was taking so long to find a job (I've been here for barely a month). So...yeah. Spending time online is a bit low on my priority list at the moment.
I doubled back and went around my folders, finding old sketches and WIPs I've never finished, mostly because they sucked or were forgotten. Might as well fit them in here.
First off...werewuffies!
A Blastoise from one of my commissions I wasn't satisfied with.
Two Sonic fancharacters, one of the first I've ever made. The dude on the left used to be called Raven until I made his little brother on the right, making their team name Glitch n' Glide. I thought it was funny.
This was meant to be an ID for a friend, but over time I wasn't satisfied with how I drew it and wanted to redo it.
I'm a Kilplix fan and used to watch his videos. When he got a Blogger I wanted to make a picture for him but ended up not finishing it because all the anatomy mistakes (especially the hands) bugged me too much. His Youtube is Kilplixism. His older vids were especially hilarious.
And lastly...not really a WIP. Just the full image of the Street Fighter Challenge meme I did on DA. Something about thick lines, man...
~Taddle
Vizier Tempus: P.S. Do your journal, even if it's a short one, or I'll set fire to your tree >:(
Rej: DX OKAY.
Vizier Tempus: Sure waffles could just bring it back BUT I'M WARNING YOU.
Rej: FINE I'LL DO IT JEEZ. >.< )
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I don't really have much to contribute as of late. My time in Guam is a dodgy one as I continue in my efforts to find employment and lead myself to self-sufficiency. I often wonder what I'm doing wrong, though, cause it certainly isn't a lack of trying. I've applied to every position I could possibly perform within the limitations of my experience (which sadly isn't that much). That unfortunately cuts me off a vast majority of opportunities, leaving only entry level jobs which are quickly being usurped by the Filipinos that are migrating from the Philippines to live here. USURPERS.
I do follow up on my applications, even when the last thing I like doing is further nagging people to look over it, and most of the time I'm simply told to wait out the period and not call up. Guam isn't a very big place so there really isn't a lot of demand, especially now that its in a huge recession due to the Japan tsunami (the economy mainly thrived on Japanese tourism). I picked a perfect time to arrive huh. Adding to the pressure of my mom demanding I return home since it was taking so long to find a job (I've been here for barely a month). So...yeah. Spending time online is a bit low on my priority list at the moment.
I doubled back and went around my folders, finding old sketches and WIPs I've never finished, mostly because they sucked or were forgotten. Might as well fit them in here.
First off...werewuffies!
A Blastoise from one of my commissions I wasn't satisfied with.
Two Sonic fancharacters, one of the first I've ever made. The dude on the left used to be called Raven until I made his little brother on the right, making their team name Glitch n' Glide. I thought it was funny.
This was meant to be an ID for a friend, but over time I wasn't satisfied with how I drew it and wanted to redo it.
I'm a Kilplix fan and used to watch his videos. When he got a Blogger I wanted to make a picture for him but ended up not finishing it because all the anatomy mistakes (especially the hands) bugged me too much. His Youtube is Kilplixism. His older vids were especially hilarious.
And lastly...not really a WIP. Just the full image of the Street Fighter Challenge meme I did on DA. Something about thick lines, man...
~Taddle
Friday, May 13, 2011
Random Sketch
Haven't had much to do or write about lately. I did have a certain topic I wanted to write about but I haven't actually got around to settling down to actually write it. In case anyone's missed it, I've actually moved to Guam to make a (second) attempt at trying to get a life, wish me luck. This includes actually not sitting on the computer 24/7 and doing other things that would be vital for my continued existence, such as washing clothes, cooking my meals, buying the food to cook my meals, and cleaning up this literal shithole of a place I now call my home. Especially since my aunt works way too damn hard to actually stay in the house for more than six hours at a time, and that's usually only after 1 am.
So I managed to scrounge up a few quick sketches (at Luke's request) to fill my weekly quota. >3>
Fun Fact: Bearcats smell like popcorn.
Ohright, I was also trying one of those virtual chatroom things (like Second Life, except...not) called FeralHeart. It looked fun and the usual addictive 'be your own Lion King charry' so I went and gave it a shot. =w=
Ykro teh coolio bone dog
I did have a Gryphon one set up but I'm too lazy to get the screenshot right now. >3> dealwithit.jpg
~Taddle
So I managed to scrounge up a few quick sketches (at Luke's request) to fill my weekly quota. >3>
Fun Fact: Bearcats smell like popcorn.
Ohright, I was also trying one of those virtual chatroom things (like Second Life, except...not) called FeralHeart. It looked fun and the usual addictive 'be your own Lion King charry' so I went and gave it a shot. =w=
Ykro teh coolio bone dog
I did have a Gryphon one set up but I'm too lazy to get the screenshot right now. >3> dealwithit.jpg
~Taddle
Sunday, May 1, 2011
About the Baltimore Incident
The first thing I woke up to this morning checking up on the internet is someone’s journal linking to a follow-up on the story of the Baltimore McDonald’s beating of a transgendered woman (as I’m sure you’ve heard about now, but in case you haven’t, please educate yourselves: http://www.baltimoresun.com/news/maryland/baltimore-city/bs-md-ci-viral-video-mcdonalds-20110422,0,4613709.story ).
Yeah, its one of those ‘sensationalist’ stories- people hear something related to an already-sensitive topic and get riled up for nasty heated responses. Not to downgrade the gravity of the matter- I’m about as disgusted as any rational human being at how anyone can act in such a craven and primitive matter. But what is it that really heats people’s blood listening to this news? Is it the fact that the person was a transvestite really the reason for people to rage over the incident? Because, from what I’m seeing in the story, no one in that restaurant stood to that person’s aide. Absolutely no one cared enough to deter the attackers from possibly killing her save an elderly lady who risked her already dodgy physical well-being (she had said she initially hesitated because of her back injury) just to spare her any more blows. What excuse did anyone else have, who I can’t imagine had to be in any worse shape, that even the slightest intervention they could offer would have been enough to save someone’s life? When you think about that reaction, you have to then ask, “Does anyone really care about the fact that it was a trans woman that was beaten up?”. Or is the story just an excuse for people to snarl and rage, to complain about ‘minorities’ and ‘intolerance over gender confused people’ or ‘hate crimes’ without thought or feeling? Or let’s put it like this: that the people that talk about how reprehensible the incident was were the very same people that stood inside that restaurant and watched it unfold without lifting a finger. Put yourself in that position and ask yourself again. Would you have done something about it? Would you have cared enough to save a stranger’s life at the expense of your own, transgendered, black, disabled or not? The elderly woman that had intervened claims that she isn’t a hero, but the truth is it would have been a rare day to find someone who would do what she had done, when you look at the big picture.
I found myself thinking further on it over the course of the day, about why this ostracization exists at all. I thought back of the Philippines, about how gays and lesbians and transgendered people intermingle with society everyday without a hitch. They aren’t looked down upon or made to feel bad about who they are; rather on the contrary, people embrace them for it. I think the worst they would have to suffer through is being the butts of jokes centered around them (mostly the gay guys, who admittedly tend to be over-extravagant to the point of being made fun of, but some actually do this on purpose) , but otherwise, they are seen no differently as any other person. I thought more on this, though, and realized that wasn’t exactly true, either. Even in the Philippines there is that fine line that these kind of people tend to toe. Let’s face it- people in that country have grown up humble, simply for the fact that most can barely afford their family’s daily necessities, much less afford to give a damn about infinitesimal issues such as gender roles. But there is that unspoken stigma that comes up in private- ‘as long as that person’s not part of my family, I wouldn’t care.’
I have two cousins, one in the Philippines and one in the States, both who have both decided to pursue alternate lifestyles as lesbians after a series of failed relationships. In both cases, the families involved were perfectly fine with such people, but quickly became intolerant when one of their own has decided to be part of those that were ‘different’. The keyword ‘different’ leading to my next train of thought: if you walked into a bar with a bunch of drunkards, what would you be most likely beat up for (without provocation)? For being transgendered, for starters. For being black, too, I guess, if it wasn’t some specifically redneck pub. For being obviously of a different race if it was maybe a Mexican pub. For being fat, too, probably (if you were a girl). For being physically disfigured (perhaps encountered some unfortunate accident or suffering a debilitating disease). In all amounts to the same thing in the end- people hate you for being –different-. It has nothing to do with specifics- a deviant from a culture’s ‘standards’ (from image to gender-preference) would always be met with scrutiny, some more violently than others. But why so angry about a person’s decision, something that may not even affect you? I can’t answer that with any amount of accuracy, but I believe it just comes up as another part of our instincts as humans. Despite us evolving into an organized bunch above all known lifeforms on the planet, we can’t fully eliminate our more primitive natures, which includes savaging the hell out of something for any reason at all. Historically, we’re just pretty damn bloodthirsty, and living so long in peace, sometimes people feel they have to find something to be angry about. Something that will start a fight, get the blood pumping. To get that adrenalin rush, the need to be right or show dominance, even in something as detached as an online argument, or as petty as a guy deciding to wear a bra.
For all people’s good intentions for attempting to make society more aware and more tolerant of such people, to dispel the ignorance and antiquated views on it, sometimes I feel it will be a difficult endeavor coming. It feels like…people will want to keep pushing these issues around, and that people will want to stay ignorant regardless. So they’ll always have an excuse to fight about it.
~Taddle
Yeah, its one of those ‘sensationalist’ stories- people hear something related to an already-sensitive topic and get riled up for nasty heated responses. Not to downgrade the gravity of the matter- I’m about as disgusted as any rational human being at how anyone can act in such a craven and primitive matter. But what is it that really heats people’s blood listening to this news? Is it the fact that the person was a transvestite really the reason for people to rage over the incident? Because, from what I’m seeing in the story, no one in that restaurant stood to that person’s aide. Absolutely no one cared enough to deter the attackers from possibly killing her save an elderly lady who risked her already dodgy physical well-being (she had said she initially hesitated because of her back injury) just to spare her any more blows. What excuse did anyone else have, who I can’t imagine had to be in any worse shape, that even the slightest intervention they could offer would have been enough to save someone’s life? When you think about that reaction, you have to then ask, “Does anyone really care about the fact that it was a trans woman that was beaten up?”. Or is the story just an excuse for people to snarl and rage, to complain about ‘minorities’ and ‘intolerance over gender confused people’ or ‘hate crimes’ without thought or feeling? Or let’s put it like this: that the people that talk about how reprehensible the incident was were the very same people that stood inside that restaurant and watched it unfold without lifting a finger. Put yourself in that position and ask yourself again. Would you have done something about it? Would you have cared enough to save a stranger’s life at the expense of your own, transgendered, black, disabled or not? The elderly woman that had intervened claims that she isn’t a hero, but the truth is it would have been a rare day to find someone who would do what she had done, when you look at the big picture.
I found myself thinking further on it over the course of the day, about why this ostracization exists at all. I thought back of the Philippines, about how gays and lesbians and transgendered people intermingle with society everyday without a hitch. They aren’t looked down upon or made to feel bad about who they are; rather on the contrary, people embrace them for it. I think the worst they would have to suffer through is being the butts of jokes centered around them (mostly the gay guys, who admittedly tend to be over-extravagant to the point of being made fun of, but some actually do this on purpose) , but otherwise, they are seen no differently as any other person. I thought more on this, though, and realized that wasn’t exactly true, either. Even in the Philippines there is that fine line that these kind of people tend to toe. Let’s face it- people in that country have grown up humble, simply for the fact that most can barely afford their family’s daily necessities, much less afford to give a damn about infinitesimal issues such as gender roles. But there is that unspoken stigma that comes up in private- ‘as long as that person’s not part of my family, I wouldn’t care.’
I have two cousins, one in the Philippines and one in the States, both who have both decided to pursue alternate lifestyles as lesbians after a series of failed relationships. In both cases, the families involved were perfectly fine with such people, but quickly became intolerant when one of their own has decided to be part of those that were ‘different’. The keyword ‘different’ leading to my next train of thought: if you walked into a bar with a bunch of drunkards, what would you be most likely beat up for (without provocation)? For being transgendered, for starters. For being black, too, I guess, if it wasn’t some specifically redneck pub. For being obviously of a different race if it was maybe a Mexican pub. For being fat, too, probably (if you were a girl). For being physically disfigured (perhaps encountered some unfortunate accident or suffering a debilitating disease). In all amounts to the same thing in the end- people hate you for being –different-. It has nothing to do with specifics- a deviant from a culture’s ‘standards’ (from image to gender-preference) would always be met with scrutiny, some more violently than others. But why so angry about a person’s decision, something that may not even affect you? I can’t answer that with any amount of accuracy, but I believe it just comes up as another part of our instincts as humans. Despite us evolving into an organized bunch above all known lifeforms on the planet, we can’t fully eliminate our more primitive natures, which includes savaging the hell out of something for any reason at all. Historically, we’re just pretty damn bloodthirsty, and living so long in peace, sometimes people feel they have to find something to be angry about. Something that will start a fight, get the blood pumping. To get that adrenalin rush, the need to be right or show dominance, even in something as detached as an online argument, or as petty as a guy deciding to wear a bra.
For all people’s good intentions for attempting to make society more aware and more tolerant of such people, to dispel the ignorance and antiquated views on it, sometimes I feel it will be a difficult endeavor coming. It feels like…people will want to keep pushing these issues around, and that people will want to stay ignorant regardless. So they’ll always have an excuse to fight about it.
~Taddle
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Long Distance Relationships
A topic that had been brought up and lingered in my mind for a while. I have…varying thoughts about it, initially starting with disdain about forging a relationship with someone you’ve never physically met, to being more accepting of a life-changing possibility going along with it.
My household is quite antiquated in their views with dealing with other people. Because they can only understand the fact that everyone that is a stranger would be inherently evil, and instill these beliefs into their children so they are taught to fear rather than attempt to understand. I’m supposing this factored a lot of my inability to mingle with people (aside from the insurmountable language barrier that further isolated me from social contact), though as I grew more comfortable using the internet, my understanding of people and how relationships worked grew as well. As with most people, I didn’t view online ones as legit, taking in at face value the anonymity of the internet, where anyone can so easily fabricate a persona, a face and a story, passing off this façade as real to the unassuming who would take the bait. Most of the time it may not be as extreme as such- sometimes its simply being oneself with all the undesirable parts of themselves dropped or replaced so that their partner on the other side of the world would never know about them until they’ve met them face to face, and are subsequently disappointed for the time and feelings they put into meeting the perfect partner, finding just a perfect stranger instead. Putting it in short, it wasn’t an honest way to start something.
Though sometimes….it works. It does actually work. People can treat one another as they would in an offline relationship, can be as caring and as intimate and as truthful as anything even without ever seeing one another. And the concept is nothing new- before the internet existed, people wrote to one another as penpals through mail, keeping their relationships strong despite the distance. That’s pretty much how my mother and father started out, so I suppose they can attest to its usefulness. The internet simply streamlines the entire process, no longer having to wait for weeks for a response that may or may not come depending on how good the mailing system was back then. And the feelings people forge from them are no less real, sometimes just as powerful or even more so, having only what we are told and having only our imaginations to fill in the blanks left over.
But there’s more to long distance relationships than just bridging a massive gap between two people. It takes a very dedicated kind of person to stay devoted to them. For all the kindness and well-intentioned words and the emotions poured into them, in the end you are mostly limited to staring at a person through a computer screen. Or staring at nothing but words. Things that can’t sufficiently substitute the physical intimacy most people need to feel, or the emotional intimacy that can’t be achieved through text alone. Sometimes its too high a price for exclusivity, and oftentimes the reason why such arrangements fail, for some cannot be content with imagination alone. It’s a hard decision to follow to the end, but certain people have the hope and the willpower to see it through regardless.
Those are the kind of special people I admire. That kind of fortitude isn’t something everyone has. But love can be a pretty strange thing, and makes people do strange things, especially when its love that makes the foundation of the relationship. From someone who pretty much doesn’t feel like they can return those feelings or doesn’t believe they can even be in love…I’m willing to do some pretty crazy stuff. Like wait for a guy I’ve never met who probably won’t be happy with the kind of person I am in real life who I’m still unsure if whether he’s the right guy for me. But its hard not to love someone that’s loving you back so unconditionally.
Maybe that’s the answer then. Maybe it shouldn’t be something to be viewed as such a personal sacrifice, but maybe as a goal both are committed to work towards. An agreement. A pact. A promise. What it yields in the end may or may not be what anyone expects, but where uncertainty attempts to break confidence, faith works to keep the hope and love alive.
~Taddle
P.S: Inasmuch as I dislike people that feel the need to publicly show off their love life at every opportunity (sometimes it gives the impression than having a partner elevates their superiority status above the poor sorry single fucks who are still in violent relationships with their hands), I felt I needed to express the kind of feelings I've had lately. This...sketch couldn't accurately represent it. I don't think I could draw one that could, and attempting to would take more time than I can devote to. But I wanted to do something that showed that I love him more than I can find the right words to tell him so. I didn't want to fall for you but I did. >3>
My household is quite antiquated in their views with dealing with other people. Because they can only understand the fact that everyone that is a stranger would be inherently evil, and instill these beliefs into their children so they are taught to fear rather than attempt to understand. I’m supposing this factored a lot of my inability to mingle with people (aside from the insurmountable language barrier that further isolated me from social contact), though as I grew more comfortable using the internet, my understanding of people and how relationships worked grew as well. As with most people, I didn’t view online ones as legit, taking in at face value the anonymity of the internet, where anyone can so easily fabricate a persona, a face and a story, passing off this façade as real to the unassuming who would take the bait. Most of the time it may not be as extreme as such- sometimes its simply being oneself with all the undesirable parts of themselves dropped or replaced so that their partner on the other side of the world would never know about them until they’ve met them face to face, and are subsequently disappointed for the time and feelings they put into meeting the perfect partner, finding just a perfect stranger instead. Putting it in short, it wasn’t an honest way to start something.
Though sometimes….it works. It does actually work. People can treat one another as they would in an offline relationship, can be as caring and as intimate and as truthful as anything even without ever seeing one another. And the concept is nothing new- before the internet existed, people wrote to one another as penpals through mail, keeping their relationships strong despite the distance. That’s pretty much how my mother and father started out, so I suppose they can attest to its usefulness. The internet simply streamlines the entire process, no longer having to wait for weeks for a response that may or may not come depending on how good the mailing system was back then. And the feelings people forge from them are no less real, sometimes just as powerful or even more so, having only what we are told and having only our imaginations to fill in the blanks left over.
But there’s more to long distance relationships than just bridging a massive gap between two people. It takes a very dedicated kind of person to stay devoted to them. For all the kindness and well-intentioned words and the emotions poured into them, in the end you are mostly limited to staring at a person through a computer screen. Or staring at nothing but words. Things that can’t sufficiently substitute the physical intimacy most people need to feel, or the emotional intimacy that can’t be achieved through text alone. Sometimes its too high a price for exclusivity, and oftentimes the reason why such arrangements fail, for some cannot be content with imagination alone. It’s a hard decision to follow to the end, but certain people have the hope and the willpower to see it through regardless.
Those are the kind of special people I admire. That kind of fortitude isn’t something everyone has. But love can be a pretty strange thing, and makes people do strange things, especially when its love that makes the foundation of the relationship. From someone who pretty much doesn’t feel like they can return those feelings or doesn’t believe they can even be in love…I’m willing to do some pretty crazy stuff. Like wait for a guy I’ve never met who probably won’t be happy with the kind of person I am in real life who I’m still unsure if whether he’s the right guy for me. But its hard not to love someone that’s loving you back so unconditionally.
Maybe that’s the answer then. Maybe it shouldn’t be something to be viewed as such a personal sacrifice, but maybe as a goal both are committed to work towards. An agreement. A pact. A promise. What it yields in the end may or may not be what anyone expects, but where uncertainty attempts to break confidence, faith works to keep the hope and love alive.
~Taddle
P.S: Inasmuch as I dislike people that feel the need to publicly show off their love life at every opportunity (sometimes it gives the impression than having a partner elevates their superiority status above the poor sorry single fucks who are still in violent relationships with their hands), I felt I needed to express the kind of feelings I've had lately. This...sketch couldn't accurately represent it. I don't think I could draw one that could, and attempting to would take more time than I can devote to. But I wanted to do something that showed that I love him more than I can find the right words to tell him so. I didn't want to fall for you but I did. >3>
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Personal Pride
I remember how I used to joke with friends over Skype (back when we were still talking, we’ve all moved on to busier parts of our lives) and sometimes like to boast how I tend to make black people jokes, especially to my black friends. Mostly because- if it wasn’t terribly obvious- I happen to be half black myself. No, I don’t feel it’s an attitude to be proud of, so I got to thinking about why I thought that way. I supposed it goes all the way back to me growing up- I was not particularly proud of my linage.
Hailing from Chicago, being half black and having a black father was never an issue for me, as I grew up in a largely black community. Hell, I even have the second grade photo to prove it.:
I’m the middle one in the first row fyi. Behind the sign. Like a friggin’ hero, yeah.
It was only after I moved to the Philippines that I started feeling enormously self-conscious. I was already a shy child, and it didn’t help that I was being criticized by my peers for the way I talked or the way my hair looked (they liked to call it ‘dead hair’ or ‘pubic hair’), that I had an obviously black girl’s name or that my dad was a large black man and that everyone would tend to stare at him because he was so different. I remember one of my history teachers touching upon a subject about the different native races and referred to the black ones as ‘niggers’, nonchalantly turning to me a moment to say ‘No offense’ before lecturing on. I remember trying not to be offended, but I think I felt slapped in the face, being reminded how different I was from everyone else. I had never even considered it, but mom would nag at me for never picking up an interest in speaking tagalog, saying that the reason I avoided people was because I had thought they were saying bad things about me and I couldn’t understand them, which only made me even more reclusive. I remember I’d cry a lot on some days because hated this alienation so much, wanting so badly to go back to Chicago and the people I was familiar with.
This ‘inferiority complex’, as mom would so nicely put it (and by ‘nicely’ I mean rub it in my face and told me to get over it) lasted until sometime into college, where, after a good long time of avoiding mirrors, finally took a moment to look into one and thought “Hmm…I’m not that bad-looking at all.” I was still apprehensive about my appearance, but over time I learned to be more accepting of ‘being unique’. It wasn’t through any thoughtful advice from someone or reading an inspiring article about accepting who you were- I just realized it was a huge hassle, worrying about things that would become irrelevant in the long run. People came and went, would most likely have forgotten who you were, and would have done so much with their lives that this moment of discomfort would mean nothing.
I started looking up to my father, who I had been ashamed of for most of my life, and started to appreciate him more. He was a smart man, who did more for people in his life than most people in this country would care to do. He cared about his family and worked hard to make sure we had everything we need. Even stricken and on his deathbed, he refused to bog down the family’s income for his sake, which we refused of course, and did everything we could for him until the end. He struggled to live longer than anyone expected him to (the doctor had initially given him eleven months; he went on for five years) just to see me graduate college. Despite all his failings, which I had never known about until much later, he loved us and never cheated on my mom, which is more than I can say for a lot of men as far as I know. I wished I had a better relationship with him and in the short time I had after realizing this, tried to be closer to him. Maybe a little too late, however…a few days prior to my brother waking me up that morning to tell me that he had died, I was trying to find a way to tell him what he meant to me. But I was too ashamed of myself to tell it to his face, so I had written it in a card. But mom would have likely made me read it to him anyway, so I just had a card sitting on my shelf until that day. I don’t know what happened to it, I think I hid it away somewhere, or threw it out. Sometimes I feel it should be one of my biggest regrets, but I know that my dad knew I was proud of him, and that I had made him proud with my graduation, if it was the only accomplishment he would acknowledge. But it probably would have been nicer still to have told him.
Nowadays, I’m not ashamed of telling people my name is Tatiana instead of just making them call me Tad or Taddle like I had been doing for most of my life. I willingly tell people I am half black and that I did have a black father, but not for the sake of being allowed to tell black jokes without discrimination. I have pride in having that blood in my veins, and that blood creating what I always felt was some weird hodgepodge of a body of black and Filipino traits (okay, I can honestly do without my kinky hair. It’s more trouble than its worth.). I’m far from perfect or ideal, but I am what I am, and to those that feel I don't fit in...I'm not going away. So deal with it. I have for 23 years. I'm sure you can, too.
~Taddle
Hailing from Chicago, being half black and having a black father was never an issue for me, as I grew up in a largely black community. Hell, I even have the second grade photo to prove it.:
I’m the middle one in the first row fyi. Behind the sign. Like a friggin’ hero, yeah.
It was only after I moved to the Philippines that I started feeling enormously self-conscious. I was already a shy child, and it didn’t help that I was being criticized by my peers for the way I talked or the way my hair looked (they liked to call it ‘dead hair’ or ‘pubic hair’), that I had an obviously black girl’s name or that my dad was a large black man and that everyone would tend to stare at him because he was so different. I remember one of my history teachers touching upon a subject about the different native races and referred to the black ones as ‘niggers’, nonchalantly turning to me a moment to say ‘No offense’ before lecturing on. I remember trying not to be offended, but I think I felt slapped in the face, being reminded how different I was from everyone else. I had never even considered it, but mom would nag at me for never picking up an interest in speaking tagalog, saying that the reason I avoided people was because I had thought they were saying bad things about me and I couldn’t understand them, which only made me even more reclusive. I remember I’d cry a lot on some days because hated this alienation so much, wanting so badly to go back to Chicago and the people I was familiar with.
This ‘inferiority complex’, as mom would so nicely put it (and by ‘nicely’ I mean rub it in my face and told me to get over it) lasted until sometime into college, where, after a good long time of avoiding mirrors, finally took a moment to look into one and thought “Hmm…I’m not that bad-looking at all.” I was still apprehensive about my appearance, but over time I learned to be more accepting of ‘being unique’. It wasn’t through any thoughtful advice from someone or reading an inspiring article about accepting who you were- I just realized it was a huge hassle, worrying about things that would become irrelevant in the long run. People came and went, would most likely have forgotten who you were, and would have done so much with their lives that this moment of discomfort would mean nothing.
I started looking up to my father, who I had been ashamed of for most of my life, and started to appreciate him more. He was a smart man, who did more for people in his life than most people in this country would care to do. He cared about his family and worked hard to make sure we had everything we need. Even stricken and on his deathbed, he refused to bog down the family’s income for his sake, which we refused of course, and did everything we could for him until the end. He struggled to live longer than anyone expected him to (the doctor had initially given him eleven months; he went on for five years) just to see me graduate college. Despite all his failings, which I had never known about until much later, he loved us and never cheated on my mom, which is more than I can say for a lot of men as far as I know. I wished I had a better relationship with him and in the short time I had after realizing this, tried to be closer to him. Maybe a little too late, however…a few days prior to my brother waking me up that morning to tell me that he had died, I was trying to find a way to tell him what he meant to me. But I was too ashamed of myself to tell it to his face, so I had written it in a card. But mom would have likely made me read it to him anyway, so I just had a card sitting on my shelf until that day. I don’t know what happened to it, I think I hid it away somewhere, or threw it out. Sometimes I feel it should be one of my biggest regrets, but I know that my dad knew I was proud of him, and that I had made him proud with my graduation, if it was the only accomplishment he would acknowledge. But it probably would have been nicer still to have told him.
Nowadays, I’m not ashamed of telling people my name is Tatiana instead of just making them call me Tad or Taddle like I had been doing for most of my life. I willingly tell people I am half black and that I did have a black father, but not for the sake of being allowed to tell black jokes without discrimination. I have pride in having that blood in my veins, and that blood creating what I always felt was some weird hodgepodge of a body of black and Filipino traits (okay, I can honestly do without my kinky hair. It’s more trouble than its worth.). I’m far from perfect or ideal, but I am what I am, and to those that feel I don't fit in...I'm not going away. So deal with it. I have for 23 years. I'm sure you can, too.
~Taddle
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
So Dawg, I Heard You Like Trees…
(Have decided to, instead of posting update blogs, to just re-edit this one post with updates, as its a lot more easier to keep them all compiled in one place.)
I recently bought Minecraft. I shouldn’t be allowed games that feed on my OCD…
Anyway, after another unfortunate run-in with lava as I was trying to find my way out one of the largest cave systems I have encountered yet (was carrying diamond along with two stacks of very-hard-to-mine Obsidian…), I decided to start afresh in a new game and just go spelunking for a bit. Its really interesting not just going down mining, but finding these immense cave systems that just seem to go on forever. After some time, I realized I needed to establish a base where I can put all my loot in, so I went walking around until I found this cave into a mountain with a tree covering the opening like a sort of roof. After a little feng shui, had meself a cozy little pad so went out the other end of the cave to see what I can do there. Right outside the front was a cliff that had a great tree perched on its edge.
And that moment, I was thinking- “…That would look pretty epic if it was bigger and more majestic.” And remembering some epic trees people have made in the past. Like these babies right here:
So I decided to make one, so I rebuilt the tree to be bigger. And better. And then decided it wasn’t big enough. So I made it even bigger. And better. And then realized it was getting way too close to my house so I pushed it a little further out, and the sheer side began eating the very hill it was perched on. And eventually became this gargantuan monster:
Sup dawg. I heard you like trees. So we put a tree on your tree so you can grow trees while you grow trees. :3
I’m STILL not done with it. I’m planning awesome things with this baby, the priority of which being to construct some kind of city inside the branches. The tree would be sitting in a lake, with waterfalls falling from the branches. Still thinking about the center part, but I want it to somehow reach someplace underneath the tree where it would contain a cavern and possibly a Nether portal. And maybe have an island be somewhere on top of the tree.
Iono. Its something to keep me busy. >w>
EDIT 3/14/11:
Not the most impressive-looking (or natural-looking) tree in the world, but so far pretty much the largest, which is good enough for me. I plan to modify the outside a bit in due time.
Its pitch black beneath the tree. I attempted to make a sort of mystic glow by strategically-placed glowstone under the roots and in the water.
The front entrance. Ain’t nothing fancy. I wanted to keep it looking as natural as possible on the outside.
A skyview from the inside. Just mountains of wood and leaves and a wooden spire with yet another fucking tree on the top.
A small well with (fitting) mossy cobblestone.
And a small park with benches and an opening in the branches to view the outside world.
Stumped with what to first build in the city, I decided to start with the necessities. Food is pretty important, hence the farm. Though I had to modify the surroundings a bit cause animals kept fucking trampling over the crops.
The farm building seamlessly blended into the tree environment and a set of stairs as well as a lamp post.
Dunno what’s next on the agenda. A hotel I guess? I decided it was easier to not think too much about what to set up and just build the first thing that came to mind.
~Taddle
I recently bought Minecraft. I shouldn’t be allowed games that feed on my OCD…
Anyway, after another unfortunate run-in with lava as I was trying to find my way out one of the largest cave systems I have encountered yet (was carrying diamond along with two stacks of very-hard-to-mine Obsidian…), I decided to start afresh in a new game and just go spelunking for a bit. Its really interesting not just going down mining, but finding these immense cave systems that just seem to go on forever. After some time, I realized I needed to establish a base where I can put all my loot in, so I went walking around until I found this cave into a mountain with a tree covering the opening like a sort of roof. After a little feng shui, had meself a cozy little pad so went out the other end of the cave to see what I can do there. Right outside the front was a cliff that had a great tree perched on its edge.
And that moment, I was thinking- “…That would look pretty epic if it was bigger and more majestic.” And remembering some epic trees people have made in the past. Like these babies right here:
So I decided to make one, so I rebuilt the tree to be bigger. And better. And then decided it wasn’t big enough. So I made it even bigger. And better. And then realized it was getting way too close to my house so I pushed it a little further out, and the sheer side began eating the very hill it was perched on. And eventually became this gargantuan monster:
Sup dawg. I heard you like trees. So we put a tree on your tree so you can grow trees while you grow trees. :3
I’m STILL not done with it. I’m planning awesome things with this baby, the priority of which being to construct some kind of city inside the branches. The tree would be sitting in a lake, with waterfalls falling from the branches. Still thinking about the center part, but I want it to somehow reach someplace underneath the tree where it would contain a cavern and possibly a Nether portal. And maybe have an island be somewhere on top of the tree.
Iono. Its something to keep me busy. >w>
EDIT 3/14/11:
Not the most impressive-looking (or natural-looking) tree in the world, but so far pretty much the largest, which is good enough for me. I plan to modify the outside a bit in due time.
Its pitch black beneath the tree. I attempted to make a sort of mystic glow by strategically-placed glowstone under the roots and in the water.
The front entrance. Ain’t nothing fancy. I wanted to keep it looking as natural as possible on the outside.
A skyview from the inside. Just mountains of wood and leaves and a wooden spire with yet another fucking tree on the top.
A small well with (fitting) mossy cobblestone.
And a small park with benches and an opening in the branches to view the outside world.
Stumped with what to first build in the city, I decided to start with the necessities. Food is pretty important, hence the farm. Though I had to modify the surroundings a bit cause animals kept fucking trampling over the crops.
The farm building seamlessly blended into the tree environment and a set of stairs as well as a lamp post.
Dunno what’s next on the agenda. A hotel I guess? I decided it was easier to not think too much about what to set up and just build the first thing that came to mind.
~Taddle
Monday, February 14, 2011
Love?
What is love? Normally I’m not a person who thinks too deeply on the topic. Truth be told, it was not a very influential element of my upbringing, though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder time and time again…why?
Someone talked to me about Valentines one day. Asked me what sort of Valentines message I would give to someone. I was like “Blahblahblahbemyvalentines”, though they asked me to be serious about it. After a bit of thinking, I admitted that I really wouldn’t have had anything to say to them- its not what I do. “Don’t you say I love you to anyone? Show affection to family?” they asked, and I admitted its not the norm for my family.
“Well you should give it a try!
It really helps with relationships and it feels nice.
You don’t want to not ever say it and regret it...
However, I say it to all my loved ones.
You have to trust your friends if not your relatives.
If there is no trust
Then what the heck is there?
You know?”
“I don't.”
I’m actually really jealous of the ones who can say “I love you” to everyone and not blink twice about it. Its not…natural to me, to hand out hugs and ‘I love yous’ as casually as giving away candy. Love has always felt…conditional to me. Something you had to earn. If you couldn’t prove you were worth it, you weren’t worth caring about. People gave me plenty of reasons over the years to make me believe that we lived in a shallow world, that your true worth was measured solely on how much you gave to people, and how well you fit their expectations. Perhaps this is half-true: society and the internet has flawlessly proven to be unforgiving to people they see as less than acceptable. But perhaps there are also people who are not so callous, and are far more accepting than most people are willing to believe, but are so few in number and overshadowed by the demands of perfection of the majority.
I keep looking back at myself, wondering why I can never admit my feelings for others. Why saying three simple words is the hardest thing in the entire world. Or why it scares me so much to say it. Maybe what I’m really afraid of, is that in the long run, the words and the feelings poured into them…they wouldn’t matter. Just as everything else, words and emotions, especially love, are painfully evanescent. Forever is only as long as its convenient, and convenience is as fickle as any man’s thirst for satisfaction. When you struggle to keep them satisfied for the love they promised you, is it really a love worth having?
And for someone that struggles so much for that…I’ve found it easier to be alone.
I don't have a sketch right now. I felt the need to write this out right away before it lost meaning to me again.
~Taddle
Someone talked to me about Valentines one day. Asked me what sort of Valentines message I would give to someone. I was like “Blahblahblahbemyvalentines”, though they asked me to be serious about it. After a bit of thinking, I admitted that I really wouldn’t have had anything to say to them- its not what I do. “Don’t you say I love you to anyone? Show affection to family?” they asked, and I admitted its not the norm for my family.
“Well you should give it a try!
It really helps with relationships and it feels nice.
You don’t want to not ever say it and regret it...
However, I say it to all my loved ones.
You have to trust your friends if not your relatives.
If there is no trust
Then what the heck is there?
You know?”
“I don't.”
I’m actually really jealous of the ones who can say “I love you” to everyone and not blink twice about it. Its not…natural to me, to hand out hugs and ‘I love yous’ as casually as giving away candy. Love has always felt…conditional to me. Something you had to earn. If you couldn’t prove you were worth it, you weren’t worth caring about. People gave me plenty of reasons over the years to make me believe that we lived in a shallow world, that your true worth was measured solely on how much you gave to people, and how well you fit their expectations. Perhaps this is half-true: society and the internet has flawlessly proven to be unforgiving to people they see as less than acceptable. But perhaps there are also people who are not so callous, and are far more accepting than most people are willing to believe, but are so few in number and overshadowed by the demands of perfection of the majority.
I keep looking back at myself, wondering why I can never admit my feelings for others. Why saying three simple words is the hardest thing in the entire world. Or why it scares me so much to say it. Maybe what I’m really afraid of, is that in the long run, the words and the feelings poured into them…they wouldn’t matter. Just as everything else, words and emotions, especially love, are painfully evanescent. Forever is only as long as its convenient, and convenience is as fickle as any man’s thirst for satisfaction. When you struggle to keep them satisfied for the love they promised you, is it really a love worth having?
And for someone that struggles so much for that…I’ve found it easier to be alone.
I don't have a sketch right now. I felt the need to write this out right away before it lost meaning to me again.
~Taddle
Thursday, February 10, 2011
SketchDump 02-11-11
I had this on DA a while back, but since it was taken down, I might as well put it back up here since this is more or less a place for sketchdumps.
Also, something more recent. Enjoy!
And something I finished later today. Wanted to practice on a dynamic pose. A character from the story about werepeople I'll prolly never get to finish but have been thinking about lately.
Aaaaannddd...this. I'm still debating whether to give her pupils or not. Technically she would- we could say her eyes glow too bright to see them. The pupil-less look is to convey the fact that she's a emotionless, beastial killing machine, but as I further thought about the werestory, there would be times when she wouldn't be quite so fearsome, though I think she functions well with the look either way.
Also apparently people think she's a guy. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't annoyed, but I understand how easy it is to make that mistake. I simply made no obvious attempt to depict any sign of femininity on her form, which would undermine the purpose of her design to do so seeing as I was aiming for a beastial look to begin with, to which any other aspects (i.e obvious woman tits) would be superfluous and/or just plain weird-looking on her.
Then again, it was obvious in the beginning she was female since she was a tacked-on crutch to Taddle's repertoire of abilities, though she slowly started to become a separate individual altogether, and less ninja-nurse-related.
~Taddle
Also, something more recent. Enjoy!
And something I finished later today. Wanted to practice on a dynamic pose. A character from the story about werepeople I'll prolly never get to finish but have been thinking about lately.
Aaaaannddd...this. I'm still debating whether to give her pupils or not. Technically she would- we could say her eyes glow too bright to see them. The pupil-less look is to convey the fact that she's a emotionless, beastial killing machine, but as I further thought about the werestory, there would be times when she wouldn't be quite so fearsome, though I think she functions well with the look either way.
Also apparently people think she's a guy. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't annoyed, but I understand how easy it is to make that mistake. I simply made no obvious attempt to depict any sign of femininity on her form, which would undermine the purpose of her design to do so seeing as I was aiming for a beastial look to begin with, to which any other aspects (i.e obvious woman tits) would be superfluous and/or just plain weird-looking on her.
Then again, it was obvious in the beginning she was female since she was a tacked-on crutch to Taddle's repertoire of abilities, though she slowly started to become a separate individual altogether, and less ninja-nurse-related.
~Taddle
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
2-211 Quick Sketch
Soooo overdo...an old request I never had the time to do, because I wanted to make it epic, but never keep having the time to work on it. Hopefully this sketch'll do instead. <3;
~Taddle
~Taddle
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
10 Minute Sketch
I'm fairly certain people watching me on DevianArt remember this abomination:
I've made a slightly more tolerable version:
Surprisingly, it took me all of 10 minutes to sketch out, the fastest I've ever drawn that looks even remotely decent. :3
~Taddle
I've made a slightly more tolerable version:
Surprisingly, it took me all of 10 minutes to sketch out, the fastest I've ever drawn that looks even remotely decent. :3
~Taddle
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Needles, Pain and Fun Times
Its 12:44 AM on a Saturday night as of this writing. What better way to spend it than to write an overdo journal? >3>
I’ve taken my IV Therapy classes two weeks ago. It was…horrible. I had fond memories of the IV Training course I took back on ’09- this was nothing compared to that. First of all, the hospital was horribly uncoordinated with the venue we were supposed to go to. We were supposed to have our training conducted at another hospital at 7 AM, so that means waking up extra early to get there in time. By the time I got there, there was already a group of students meandering at the front. Rather than stand there waiting (even though I knew they were there for the same IVT class), I went to talk to the security guard as best I could. From what I could make out, the hospital apparently received no notice that there would be a class there. No instructor or instructions from the host hospital, so there was no place for us to go to. So everyone was forced to wait until after 7 (because apparently the nursing office of the host hospital doesn’t open by then so no one was receiving phone calls) only to find out that the classes were actually being held –at- the host hospital. :/ So everyone crams into taxis and transfers there (fortunately it wasn’t too far off) and we find half the rest of the class sitting there. Apparently, at the VERY last minute (because I had been there to register for the class three days prior) they had sent out texts to students that the venue had changed, but only half the students actually got the messages while the rest were mad to wander out. >.>; Plus…since we were taking classes at the host hospital, we –had- to wear out white uniforms, which I hadn’t gotten prepared cause I figured I’d only have to wear it on the last day, which would be a week from then. Thankfully, I had a perfectly good one pulled out by mom so I was able to wear it the next day, though I had no time to dig up my white nursing shoes (if they were even still usable) so I had to go with my old, worn-out, kinda white sneakers, which made the getup look kind of stupid.
The second fail was the classes themselves. The instructors were BORING AS FUCK. They had absolutely no enthusiasm or rarely anything interesting to share beyond the templates on their projectors. I slept more in class than anything else due to their monotonous droning, and I commend those people that could actually stand sitting there listening for hours. The last day, which was the demonstration, was also a big disappointment. In the other hospital, they had the space, materials, and the instructors who patiently let you demonstrate, and guided you along when you had trouble, but mostly let you do it yourself. Here? They practically did everything –for- you! Even if you missed out an element of the procedure, they still mark everything with a checkmark and give you the highest score (which…prolly isn’t –that- bad if you sucked at it, but it only means that if you did, you’d still get away with a license). The last table I went to (for the blood transfusion demonstration) the instructor hit me with questions with rapid-fire intensity, and with the actual demonstration she was practically telling me what to do instead of letting me TRY to remember how to do it. I think it took me less than five minutes when it should have taken me at least ten.
Oh, and don’t get me started on the actual one on one IV demonstration. If it wasn’t bad enough I had a hard time looking for a partner, when came the time for us to actually perform, the fucking instructor was practically the one positioning and inserting the needle, pretty much making the point of us trying to do it ourselves moot. At least the last hospital let us do it- if we missed, then tough shit, you failed and had to reapply for the class again. Here, you don’t get to do it again cause –you were never doing it in the first place-…and the damn woman STILL missed the vein wtf. >:/ Neither me or my partner managed to get out needles in- we ended up having it shoved painfully under our skin trying to look for it before giving up. That part of my hand is still sore until now.
And to top it all off, the dates for completing my cases won’t be till March 22, two fucking months away. And getting your cases done within two days is very narrow. If I would be lucky enough to get them then, then I can rest assured I can get my license sooner…with a processing time of six months. :/ Oh, hey, since its not hard enough, lets remind you that your nursing license is going to expire in August. You won’t get your IVT card with an expired license. Sigh…time, it is not important.
Besides that, been sort of in an art slump. One week I was pretty stoked getting back to arting, and the next I fall into a slump again, but I’m slowly picking up, so hopefully I can get the things I need done in time. Because of all the different things I need to do in addition (trying to plan out a comic, looking for jobs in Guam- NOT fun), I don’t really have time to make my usual quick doodles. Instead, have a teaser shot of what I have been working on for the last few hours:
~Taddle
I’ve taken my IV Therapy classes two weeks ago. It was…horrible. I had fond memories of the IV Training course I took back on ’09- this was nothing compared to that. First of all, the hospital was horribly uncoordinated with the venue we were supposed to go to. We were supposed to have our training conducted at another hospital at 7 AM, so that means waking up extra early to get there in time. By the time I got there, there was already a group of students meandering at the front. Rather than stand there waiting (even though I knew they were there for the same IVT class), I went to talk to the security guard as best I could. From what I could make out, the hospital apparently received no notice that there would be a class there. No instructor or instructions from the host hospital, so there was no place for us to go to. So everyone was forced to wait until after 7 (because apparently the nursing office of the host hospital doesn’t open by then so no one was receiving phone calls) only to find out that the classes were actually being held –at- the host hospital. :/ So everyone crams into taxis and transfers there (fortunately it wasn’t too far off) and we find half the rest of the class sitting there. Apparently, at the VERY last minute (because I had been there to register for the class three days prior) they had sent out texts to students that the venue had changed, but only half the students actually got the messages while the rest were mad to wander out. >.>; Plus…since we were taking classes at the host hospital, we –had- to wear out white uniforms, which I hadn’t gotten prepared cause I figured I’d only have to wear it on the last day, which would be a week from then. Thankfully, I had a perfectly good one pulled out by mom so I was able to wear it the next day, though I had no time to dig up my white nursing shoes (if they were even still usable) so I had to go with my old, worn-out, kinda white sneakers, which made the getup look kind of stupid.
The second fail was the classes themselves. The instructors were BORING AS FUCK. They had absolutely no enthusiasm or rarely anything interesting to share beyond the templates on their projectors. I slept more in class than anything else due to their monotonous droning, and I commend those people that could actually stand sitting there listening for hours. The last day, which was the demonstration, was also a big disappointment. In the other hospital, they had the space, materials, and the instructors who patiently let you demonstrate, and guided you along when you had trouble, but mostly let you do it yourself. Here? They practically did everything –for- you! Even if you missed out an element of the procedure, they still mark everything with a checkmark and give you the highest score (which…prolly isn’t –that- bad if you sucked at it, but it only means that if you did, you’d still get away with a license). The last table I went to (for the blood transfusion demonstration) the instructor hit me with questions with rapid-fire intensity, and with the actual demonstration she was practically telling me what to do instead of letting me TRY to remember how to do it. I think it took me less than five minutes when it should have taken me at least ten.
Oh, and don’t get me started on the actual one on one IV demonstration. If it wasn’t bad enough I had a hard time looking for a partner, when came the time for us to actually perform, the fucking instructor was practically the one positioning and inserting the needle, pretty much making the point of us trying to do it ourselves moot. At least the last hospital let us do it- if we missed, then tough shit, you failed and had to reapply for the class again. Here, you don’t get to do it again cause –you were never doing it in the first place-…and the damn woman STILL missed the vein wtf. >:/ Neither me or my partner managed to get out needles in- we ended up having it shoved painfully under our skin trying to look for it before giving up. That part of my hand is still sore until now.
And to top it all off, the dates for completing my cases won’t be till March 22, two fucking months away. And getting your cases done within two days is very narrow. If I would be lucky enough to get them then, then I can rest assured I can get my license sooner…with a processing time of six months. :/ Oh, hey, since its not hard enough, lets remind you that your nursing license is going to expire in August. You won’t get your IVT card with an expired license. Sigh…time, it is not important.
Besides that, been sort of in an art slump. One week I was pretty stoked getting back to arting, and the next I fall into a slump again, but I’m slowly picking up, so hopefully I can get the things I need done in time. Because of all the different things I need to do in addition (trying to plan out a comic, looking for jobs in Guam- NOT fun), I don’t really have time to make my usual quick doodles. Instead, have a teaser shot of what I have been working on for the last few hours:
~Taddle
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Year of the Rabbit
I was never one for astrology or horoscopes, glancing them on the paper from time to time when I was young simply because it was on the same page as the comics. But I can’t say that my astrological signs haven’t been an influence for creating certain characters of mine, the most striking being the Lapithian race (although that was more of a process in creation rather than a direct inspiration from the zodiac). Still, the Philippines is very much supportive of Chinese celebrations, especially in their New Years, and everyone is abuzz with this year being the one of the Rabbit, and taking special interest in it because it happens to be the zodiac I was born under.
Unlike my western sign Leo, the description for the Rabbit seems to be the one I identify with most:
THE FIRE RABBIT 1927 AND 1987
Fire adds an unspoken magnetism and mystery to the Rabbit. These creatures have a burning desire to get out there and live life to its fullest. They are active and adventurous and love anything that sparks their creativity or curiosity. They can throw tantrums here and there, if provoked, but most of the time they work very hard to avoid conflict or unpleasant confrontations. Fire Rabbits are charming and tend to push their emotions into the backs of their minds, but will speak up if necessary.
Source: Chinese Horoscopes – The Rabbit
To commemorate this occasion, obligatory New Year pic is in order! Naturally I would have just used Kalulu as representative, but then I remembered my best bro Luke was born on the same year. He also came up with an amusing idea: 2011 M&Ms to celebrate 2011. >3> So…
~Taddle
Unlike my western sign Leo, the description for the Rabbit seems to be the one I identify with most:
THE FIRE RABBIT 1927 AND 1987
Fire adds an unspoken magnetism and mystery to the Rabbit. These creatures have a burning desire to get out there and live life to its fullest. They are active and adventurous and love anything that sparks their creativity or curiosity. They can throw tantrums here and there, if provoked, but most of the time they work very hard to avoid conflict or unpleasant confrontations. Fire Rabbits are charming and tend to push their emotions into the backs of their minds, but will speak up if necessary.
Source: Chinese Horoscopes – The Rabbit
To commemorate this occasion, obligatory New Year pic is in order! Naturally I would have just used Kalulu as representative, but then I remembered my best bro Luke was born on the same year. He also came up with an amusing idea: 2011 M&Ms to celebrate 2011. >3> So…
GRATITUOUS AMOUNTS OF M&MS! >8U
~Taddle
Saturday, January 1, 2011
New Year and New Things
And so 2010 draws to a close. To this past year I cannot say much, but to quietly nod and say that I have indeed grown in the 365 days since. To me, a successful year is not measured by how much you’ve fulfilled your resolutions or your life goals, whether you have enjoyed much of the year or suffered…but how much you learned from it. It would be a waste to spend that much time and still be the same person as you were then, right? Even if only a little. Even if it were not as evident. Even if it was only a smidgen bit of knowledge that has opened your understanding a bit more. I’d feel it was all worth it.
The family and friends I have are not always perfect, but I’m grateful that they are all still with me. And the people I’ve come to know throughout the year, I hope we’ll still be bumpin’ shoulders down this route we’ve decided to share. And the people I’ve made important in my life…I hope will still be that way for as long as time permits.
So what comes next after all this. Who knows. I’ve never looked to the future with any sort of expectation, having a ‘come what may’ attitude in life. But maybe, for this year, I could decide to change that. Better knowing my strengths and my limits and setting up goals I know I could reach if I tried hard enough, I know now that I am capable of so much more than I previously thought. I don’t need to follow everyone’s shadow to find my way and I can use my own voice to speak what I want. And what I want, I can get on my own without having to ask permission for it. Its taken me this long to realize how to make these steps towards my own independence- perhaps far longer than it should have- but now that I know how to do it, I can finally base my plans towards my own future instead of worrying about how it would benefit others, as I had previously felt I was duty-bound to do. So hoping for the best.
Now, to less personal matters- I haven’t updated for over a month. XD; I’ve immersed myself in tasks throughout November and December, rediscovering my love for art and reconnecting with old friends and old hobbies. Yes, all the attention devoted to everything else after months of having to put it aside didn’t allow much time and patience to stop and write about it. I must thank my dear friend Luke for continuingly pushing me for updates. >3>
I realize there are still some things still left undone here, namely my Commissions and Portfolio pages, which I’m hoping to resolve as soon as my other tasks are done. I’ve been able to find many different websites courtesy of some helpful acquaintances that would be perfect for showcasing my works that I intend to build up and connect here. I’ve remained in DeviantArt to continue practicing my work, as I feel that’s my first and foremost important endeavor to complete, mainly through contests and tournaments and groups (the main one thus far being International Pokemon League). Right now I plan to enter The Grand Prix Tournament held over at the Global Battle Union (the tournament account for IPL), which would be a good workout on my sequential art abilities. Wish me luck. ^^; To add to that, I’m also helping out a developing webcomic that will hopefully be up and running as soon as I can finish the details on it. More information on that later.
Other things I’ve helped work on is a Pokedex for the IPL (a list of trainer-owned Pokemon) which takes a ridiculous amount of coding and has so far usurped a good portion of my time. I’m also intending on helping start a Wikia for the group, which, at the present time, I decided that would be too ambitious to pursue with so many other things needed to be done. ^^;
I’m also helping out with a developing tournament that will hopefully be up and running by summer. The premise behind it is a futuristic Earth where man has come to the edge of extinction and must rely on their mechanic creations (i.e. androids) to carry on the legacy of humanity. An interesting twist to the usual OCT where winners are judged not only for engaging storytelling and art, but for the level of character interaction which plays a major role in the tournament story. Keep an eye out for it: Terra II
And finally, spent the rest of my free time watching Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler. Since everyone is all “OMG GRELL SO KAWAII” and his damn face keeps popping up in my messenger *eyes a certain someone -.o*. So I’m like, “I should investigate this shark-toothed person. She’s really pretty-OH MY GOD IT’S A DUDE.” Nah, really, no matter how I look at him, I cannot see him as a woman. >3> But I sometimes need a constant reminder.
THIS WORKS.
On the RL side of things, I’m working on getting medical certifications for IV Therapy and Basic Life Support. For work I’ll try to find some meager paying entry-level job. The important thing right now is not the pay, but the experience. My uncle seems to be working on getting me something to do in Guam, while I have a few people who are willing to help me over in Ohio. Opportunities not yet set in stone, but they’re there and they’re something to work with.
I think I about covered everything.
~Taddle
The family and friends I have are not always perfect, but I’m grateful that they are all still with me. And the people I’ve come to know throughout the year, I hope we’ll still be bumpin’ shoulders down this route we’ve decided to share. And the people I’ve made important in my life…I hope will still be that way for as long as time permits.
So what comes next after all this. Who knows. I’ve never looked to the future with any sort of expectation, having a ‘come what may’ attitude in life. But maybe, for this year, I could decide to change that. Better knowing my strengths and my limits and setting up goals I know I could reach if I tried hard enough, I know now that I am capable of so much more than I previously thought. I don’t need to follow everyone’s shadow to find my way and I can use my own voice to speak what I want. And what I want, I can get on my own without having to ask permission for it. Its taken me this long to realize how to make these steps towards my own independence- perhaps far longer than it should have- but now that I know how to do it, I can finally base my plans towards my own future instead of worrying about how it would benefit others, as I had previously felt I was duty-bound to do. So hoping for the best.
Now, to less personal matters- I haven’t updated for over a month. XD; I’ve immersed myself in tasks throughout November and December, rediscovering my love for art and reconnecting with old friends and old hobbies. Yes, all the attention devoted to everything else after months of having to put it aside didn’t allow much time and patience to stop and write about it. I must thank my dear friend Luke for continuingly pushing me for updates. >3>
I realize there are still some things still left undone here, namely my Commissions and Portfolio pages, which I’m hoping to resolve as soon as my other tasks are done. I’ve been able to find many different websites courtesy of some helpful acquaintances that would be perfect for showcasing my works that I intend to build up and connect here. I’ve remained in DeviantArt to continue practicing my work, as I feel that’s my first and foremost important endeavor to complete, mainly through contests and tournaments and groups (the main one thus far being International Pokemon League). Right now I plan to enter The Grand Prix Tournament held over at the Global Battle Union (the tournament account for IPL), which would be a good workout on my sequential art abilities. Wish me luck. ^^; To add to that, I’m also helping out a developing webcomic that will hopefully be up and running as soon as I can finish the details on it. More information on that later.
Other things I’ve helped work on is a Pokedex for the IPL (a list of trainer-owned Pokemon) which takes a ridiculous amount of coding and has so far usurped a good portion of my time. I’m also intending on helping start a Wikia for the group, which, at the present time, I decided that would be too ambitious to pursue with so many other things needed to be done. ^^;
I’m also helping out with a developing tournament that will hopefully be up and running by summer. The premise behind it is a futuristic Earth where man has come to the edge of extinction and must rely on their mechanic creations (i.e. androids) to carry on the legacy of humanity. An interesting twist to the usual OCT where winners are judged not only for engaging storytelling and art, but for the level of character interaction which plays a major role in the tournament story. Keep an eye out for it: Terra II
And finally, spent the rest of my free time watching Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler. Since everyone is all “OMG GRELL SO KAWAII” and his damn face keeps popping up in my messenger *eyes a certain someone -.o*. So I’m like, “I should investigate this shark-toothed person. She’s really pretty-OH MY GOD IT’S A DUDE.” Nah, really, no matter how I look at him, I cannot see him as a woman. >3> But I sometimes need a constant reminder.
THIS WORKS.
On the RL side of things, I’m working on getting medical certifications for IV Therapy and Basic Life Support. For work I’ll try to find some meager paying entry-level job. The important thing right now is not the pay, but the experience. My uncle seems to be working on getting me something to do in Guam, while I have a few people who are willing to help me over in Ohio. Opportunities not yet set in stone, but they’re there and they’re something to work with.
I think I about covered everything.
~Taddle
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