I know it’s been a little while since I’ve blogged anything. Shit, it’s been a while since I’ve really done anything, period. Ever since the whole business with my brothers dog, I guess I just dropped down into a really freakish depression. Not long after we had Pellet put down, I turned 23 and that’s when shit started going downhill. Mostly, the depression revolved around nightmares centering on death, the deaths of those close to me as well as my own. Freaky, right? See, the dog was pretty far along
with her tumors on her body, and along with everything else, I was in the room with my mom when they put the dog down. Before that, I had never been there when a living being passed on, but that singular event suddenly gave me the terrifying knowledge that I am, indeed, not invincible and everyone’s time is limited. From there, I just became, for the lack of a better word, numb. I didn’t want to work, draw, or really do anything other than sit around and play video games between my zombie droning about at
work and school.

If there is anything about the situation that I can come away with that I’m thankful for, it’d have to be a definitive lock on what I want to do with my life. After years of uncertainty, it took the death of my brother’s dog to really snap me into a solid idea of where I want this life of mine to lead. Short term and long term. Ideally, a degree in animation and visual effects and going on to work in the video game or film industry for the short term, and I’d like to go for a PhD in literature and become
a college professor. I’d say that’s a good plan, right? Pretty fucking far from working at a goddamn Best Buy, huh? Suck on that, Will!

Back to the short term, I’m working on getting my ass on Artist’s Alley at MegaCon. I’m well into layouts on some new prints and I want to make a good impression at this con. I plan making more con appearances and I do hope this will spearhead a nice big move into doing so. Concordantly, the updates to the comic need to continue as well. I’m angry that I haven’t done any comics since I went to AWA, but you have to admit that shit I went through after the dog was quite the mind fuck.

==

I’m sitting here in the den of my aunt and uncle’s huge house in Atlanta, happily away from Jacksonville and my job at Best Buy. Somehow I’ve lucked out and got out of working on Black Friday at Best Buy. It’s so fucking awesome that I could get away from Jacksonville and spend some time with members of my family that I don’t normally get to see. My sister came with her family up here and, my dear sweet lord, I don’t know how they could control their daughter. She’s already fallen into the fucking pool, and with
the temperature up here at the low 50s, falling face first into a pool when the pool heater isn’t working, isn’t a good goddamn idea.

I have to go back Saturday because I’m scheduled Sunday morning. I’d love to stay longer, but a few more days with my family can be happily sacrificed in lieu of needing to search for a fucking job. Especially now. I may hate my job, but at least I recognize that I need to keep that fucking time waster until I’m ready to move into the next phase of my education.

All in all, I’m glad I got out and lived outside of my usual shell. It’s refreshing. I hope everyone else has a great Thanksgiving.

argo. (mtc)

I’d been so busy lately with churning out comics and artwork, going to two different cons, and school that I’d totally forgotten to update the old blog. It seems perfectly reasonable that I should do so today of all days, seeing as I turn the big 2-3 today.

I remember getting super stoked about birthdays, but I think that this year is the first year that I really haven’t put that much excitement into it. 21, sure. I had my first alcoholic beverage on my 21st birthday. 22 was enjoyable, though I don’t really remember what I did, but I do remember that I looked forward to it. I think that the whole living in poverty and back in school thing coupled with the fact that I;m back where I was two years ago and should’ve been further along. I wasted two years thinking that Best Buy was the real thing for me only to realize that I was fooling myself. I had a free ride before, now everything pertaining to my future falls on my unsure shoulders.

Fuck. The birthday only solidifies my youth slowly slipping away and being a dreaded adult draws ever closer.

I just wanna be a toys r us kid.

==

As I said, the comic is updating now. You should check it out, tell your friends, send me cash, throw hotel room keys at my feet, whatever. I don’t tell you what to do to the people making your life more interesting, just so long as cash or (hetero) sex is involved.

later, you fuckin rascals.
argo. (mtc)

I posted some pictures already on my MySpace page of some of the shit that took place at DragonCon. Once again, Dragon did not disappoint.

The wrestling did, though, but putting a hole in the wall with a chair tends to make con organizers rethink inviting them back again. Maybe, if they replace the piss-poor wrestling assholes with someone else, it’ll be some small time assholes with maybe, I don’t know, talent? And what the fuck does it take to use some goddamn props for these assholes? The best they can do is a box of Lucky Charms and a table that falls apart before they can pile someone through it? I am not impressed. Next year, I’m taking nerf bats, baking pans, and fucking cheese-graters.

Aside from that, and the fact that we weren’t able to get a room at the hotels where the con was held, forcing us to drive from a hotel by Turner Field to the con every morning through Atlanta freeway traffic. Always fun.

==

Two pages for no/fly/zone are penciled and one more inked. I want maybe five in all online before I go to AWA. AWA is an interesting con because I can no longer say that I’m really an avid anime watcher or manga reader. I just don’t anymore. Maybe I grew out of it? I still watch and read some stuff sometimes, but not to the level that I see some people go to when I’m there.

Nevertheless, I’ve been going to AWA since high school, and tradition is hard to break. I don’t get to see my pal Angel that often, so an excuse to go see her and check out some cool art is always a good reason for attending a con.

==

School’s well underway this semester. I’ve got three classes this time, and then with its successful completion, I’ll be free to take however many classes I wish. I expect to get my AA by the end of next year, if not sooner. After that, it’s all about moving on to an art school.

My friend Angel who’s pretty far along at SCAD tells me that, if I’m to go there, Visual Effects would be the prime major to go for, mixing art and programming and allowing an easier insertion into visual effects houses in either the video games or film industries. I am thoroughly intrigued. Gives me something to work toward.

stay dry in the storm season, kids.
argo. (mtc)

My skin has taken on the red characteristic of a lobster, and accompanying the change in hue, is a delightful, scratch that, unhindered burning sensation that can be described as painful among other things.

Fuckin’ ow.

Tuesday, my dad, my nephew, and I went out all day on a deep sea fishing boat… I don’t know why I went in particular because I could think of a million more entertaining things to me than fucking fishing. I just don’t draw any entertainment from dropping a hook, baiting some dumbass fish, and then bringing it on board for a photo op. I build computers, I read, write, and draw comics, fishing doesn’t rank up there in interesting shit to me. Nevertheless, I did enjoy hanging out with Dad and Jacob.

==

Calling my boss out on some bullshit has had some adverse effects on my status at work. The inventory manager at work has this new policy on working truck nights. His policy states that if you are going to work the trucks, you need to stay until the final box is put up on the shelf, even if it means you have to stay until god knows when in the morning. If you can’t stay until then, if you have to leave early, or say at your scheduled off time, you can’t work trucks.

This policy poses a problem for a couple of guys, including myself. I have school Monday through Thursday, a couple of the other guys have full-time jobs during the weeks, which makes staying until God knows when in the morning on the Wednesday night trucks isn’t really an option. We have other things to do with the daylight hours. Best Buy is not what pays the bills for those of us who are, apparently, unable to conform to Rick’s standards.

The fucked up part is that this isn’t the only item pf concern that lists Rick in the section that labels certain people as batshit fucking loco. He’s had this inventory setup throughout the store that had, until recently when someone higher up than he is told him to change it, made the store look like fucking Wal-Mart. THe nice thing about Wal-Mart is that there’s lots of room for the giant bulk-stacks of product in the store so that you may see the eyesore, but you can easily move around it, even when it’s crowded. Not so at Best Buy. There’s hardly any room to maneuver with a shopping cat, much less pallets of new product that needs to go out on truck night. But that stock plan is over, however, and when it changed, he didn’t so much as fix all the problems, he just swapped out one problem for another, taking every single item of merchandise sold in appliances (i.e. refrigerators) out to the floor where there’s no goddamn room for them. When the plan changed to this, I called Rick out on it telling him that come Thanksgiving time, for holiday prep and Black Friday, he’s gonna fuck himself for space. And he was overwhelmed by the truth of my words… so much so that he rejected all of my time-off requests and gave me 9 hours for this upcoming week, five hours on Sunday, and another 4 on Saturday.

Here’s the part where I just dive into a little bit of venting. Anger is my forte, so here goes. I’ll start off with a stark “What the fuck?” and proceed from there.

What the fuck!? Doesn’t this seem a little juvenile to you? I know some of you who read this who know me know that sometimes I may not have a very genteel way of telling someone they’ve got shit for brains, but believe me when I say that I handled telling him how I felt about his plan with the utmost discretion and care. I don’t think Rick gave a shit. But it’s been trending this way for a while now. First Will comes in and he’s a total asshole, but at least he had the balls to be an asshole to your face and actually listened maybe 20% of the time. But Rick’s passive aggressive horseshit is getting pretty tiring. Taking me off the trucks is fine, I’m not gonna lose sleep over it, even though I know I’ll probably be back on that truck schedule within three weeks. But rejecting my time-off requests, even the ones for the cons I go to every year when time and time again I take it off without any problems.

I don’t want to quit, especially with the job environment being what it is right now. But the environment being what it is at work, quitting doesn’t seem like too bad of an idea. Rick has driven off over half of the inventory team that was in place when he came back there and has routinely given hours to his little Nazi slave who works day shifts, overpays his crackhead inventory supervisor who doesn’t really do much more than walk around the store, clapping his hands, and talks crazy all day. Meanwhile, the hard working guys, like Steve, the Inventory Senior, Chris, Mike, and some others get their asses ridden all day and not shit to show for it. I don’t think morale could get any lower in this goddamn store.

Fuck it. This story isn’t over yet. However this plays out, whether it be for good or ill… good times.

Until next time, kids.
argo. (mtc)

So, here’s the hard copy. Last week, my mom tells me that my oldest brother is going into detox and then rehab. ‘Cool,’ I say to myself, ‘He’s getting the help he needs.’ It’s against his will. ‘That doesn’t mean he doesn’t need it.’ He’s got a dog that’s been living out of his car with him. ‘Well… shit.’ Mom spends about a week pleading with friends and family to take this dog before animal control, who had the dog, were going to put it down. In my infinite wisdom: ‘I’ll take her in, albeit temporarily, until I can find a more permanent home for her. How bad could it be?’

Oy.

When Pellet, my brother Joey’s boxer-pit mix arrived at my house two Thursdays ago, she had a stench I could only describe as unholy. I’d go as far as calling her smell an affront to the Lord. She was ridden with ticks, and there was God knows what else wrong with her. Suddenly, my entire outlook on this venture turned a might bit bleak. On Saturday, Mary Ann and I took Pellet to the vet, fully prepared to have her put down if there was too much wrong with her, because I can’t invest too much money into her, I’m poor and in college again.

Imagine my surprise when there really wasn’t that much wrong. I took her to another vet for a normal checkup on the following Tuesday, and here was her problems as follows: Kennel Cough, ear infection, minor tick infestation. That’s it. I was fucking staggered.

So, now I’ve got this incredibly sweet 10-year-old puppy, staying in my living room, and in need of a good home. If you know of one, let me know. Message, text, call, e-mail, carrier pigeon, bow and arrow with a note attached to it, burn it on the surface of the moon, send a herald, ANYTHING! I like this dog a lot, but I just can’t afford the big softy.

==

Meanwhile, despite the emotional pits that having Joey’s dog has had on me recently, I’ve managed to do exceptionally well in school (thus far). I got exempt from the exam in Lit 1, giving me a well deserved A, and thank god, too. It finally feels like the things I decided to do with my life are beginning to come to fruition. All I need to do now is keep my resolve and stay until it’s finished. If I can keep myself on this line long enough to do that, I’m gonna be okay.

argo. (mtc) 

It’s been a few weeks, but that’s only because I’ve been really busy. About a week after the infamous beard-loss at the hands of my mischievous electric trimmer, the occupants of this residence headed north for HeroesCon in Charlotte. I won’t go into too many details because there are a few I’m hazy on myself. Needless to say, the con was awesome. Zac and Jackie got a bunch of art and are already talking about returning next year. I’m glad that the crew was able to get James to come to the con, since he was thinking
about not going and in the middle of the Great Purge (getting rid of shit he and people he hates).

Anyways, school’s well under way, and I’m really enjoying myself. I could do without some of the trouser stains in my math class who be thrown into the path of an oncoming bus, but that’s neither here nor there.

What I really like is the fact that I’m finally turning shit in my life around. I’m doing something about things. Before, I’d be so scared of what happened if I failed or rejected. But now, I’m just afraid of not doing anything at all. It’s tough, but I think I’ll be able to manage.

Until next time, kids.
argo. (mtc)

I bought a beard and mustache trimmer today. All was well as first, but I slipped and had the setting too low.

I look like Jared from the Subway commercials without it.

Guess who’s gonna grow it back IMMEDIATELY.

barbecue time.
argo. (mtc)

It’s a sort of zombie mantra that comes up from time to time here at work: “Have fun while being the best.” I put it on par with other crazy sayings like “TWO MEN ENTER! ONE MAN LEAVES!” or “ONE OF US! ONE OF US!” I’m trying not to get angry or depressed about work, albiet, it’s a little difficult not to when you’re being fucked as hard as someone like me is.
Good times.
The nice thing is that I’ve already started school and I’m enjoying my classes. As expected, there are a couple of complete fucking morons who’s parents should have been thrown screaming from helicopters. I think we can all get on the same wavelength that when you have a class longer than 90 minutes, there’s a break so you can go piss and get whatever from the machine if you want. But going to get a Mountain Dew and Cheetos in the middle of a lecture, coming back in and chomping and crinkling the fucking bag, yelling out the wrong answers when the teacher isn’t even calling on anyone for them, and then laying your head down and napping for the remaining 45 minutes of class… that’s a little fucking rude.
That is really taking place by the way.
Aside from the few choice escapees from Darwin’s almighty hammer, my classes are populated with the stereotypical set of community college students, a few high school grads, a few old people, a few military guys, and then people like me who looked at the world around them and said, “Fuck me sideways, I gotta go to school!” I have a good feeling about it though.
Here’s to you, kids
argo. (mtc)

I had a scare last week when taking care of things for school. It came when my school sent me a postcard telling me I needed to speak with a financial aid adviser about about stuff and and became very quickly concerned with the status of my loans. Well the problem came when I was told by the adviser that my loan wasn’t accepted by the school. What she should have said was “as a Stafford or Perkins loan”.

You see, schools set up Stafford and Perkins loans to hand out to students to compound with the expected family contribution and Federal Pell grants to give to students who need that extra little bit of cash. The cash filters through the school into the hands of students after tuition and book fees are paid out. If this were my loan, I wouldn’t have been able to get the money because of my previous GPA when I was enrolled before. It wasn’t all that great. So I relented and was ready to go apeshit, it meant I wouldn’t be able to pay for school without anything but cash in pocket until my grades went up.

This is where someone should have stopped and said: “WAIT!” because I didn’t sign up for those. I signed up for a private loan, a loan that is distributed based on your credit rating and whether or not you’re even enrolled. They don’t care about grades, only money. Oddly enough, works out even better for me. Sorting this all out has been one fucking huge affair that I’d rather not relive.

==

If you’ll look around the site, you’ll notice that all of the redesigns are done. I can finally say that I’ve got a site that I’m really proud of. The problem part now is filling the areas that need a little artwork with some fucking artwork. I’ve got a bunch of scripts ready for no/fly/zone, and I’ve been working on some stories for Grey Matter. Comic goodness will be up on the site shortly.

We’ll talk more later, kids.
argo. (mtc)

I cannot believe the amount of bullshit I’ve had to go through in order to get my ass back into school. Every time I think I’m in the clear on going back, there’s something else that pops up that they failed to mention the lat four ties I was at the goddamn counseling office at the school. FUCK!

Take all the nonsense I’ve had to deal with at the school, just to go back, and then toss in an new manager at work, and we’ve got a stressed out Crews. I wish it was just a normal place with normal people. It’s not! Between the superficial, sado-masochistic management, and the batshit fucking loco coworkers, this place needs an enema. People like my piranha-mouthed boss, the cross-eyed rapper, the dueling cultists, the tattletale Nazi youth, and the other zombies should just be locked inside and be bathed in a cleansing flame brought down by the Lord.

Honestly, I think the world would be a little bit brighter if I just arrived one morning for work and saw the flashing lights of fire trucks littering the parking lot around the store. And as I pulled up, the ceiling and sections of the walls cave in as the fires lick the warm Jacksonville morning air. I make a few phone calls and my friends from work all arrive and we roast hot dogs and marshmallows. And as we bite into our food, we can say with complete unyielding honesty that they were the most delicious hot dogs in existence. “How’s the dog?” one would ask, to which I would utter a simple reply:

“It tastes like… justice“.

Simply saying “I hate my job” is not enough for some people. I haven’t wanted to do this shit for like nine months. Constantly, I beg for a transfer just to another department, but I remain a whipping boy for the store at large. God fucking help me, I’m gonna lose it.

==

Just please let my financial aid stuff go through for school and let me put work on the back burner. For the love of God, Jesus, Buddha, Allah, and all those other silly people in the clouds, let it be my turn to have something nice happen in my professional life that doesn’t involve me getting shit on. Let the loan get here so I can concentrate on what really goddamn matters, my future. Give me strength to keep my hands from choking the life out of people as they ask me, in Best Buy of all places, “Where’s the electronics department?”

==

I’ve been coding and prepping the redesign for the site and it’ll be live soon. I’m excited about that at least. It’s comforting that no matter how stressful the job can be, that I still have the little things, like coding a website and artwork that can calm me down.

Until next time,
argo. (mtc)