If anyone out there still checks (even though it's been a couple years), then good on you for being crazy dedicated, and you might want to change your bookmark to:
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Sunday, January 20, 2008
No Contest
Actually, it is a contest...but still... The decision is no contest for me. Nero or Dante? Don't make me laugh. Check out the widget above for more info.
And I have to share that Vergil has arrived at long last and is guarding my office with his cold-hearted stare. He is all of ten inches tall, but intimidating nonetheless (not to mention pretty). Ouch. No need to poke me with your little pointy plastic katana, Vergil. I didn't mean it. Really. You're a very manly miniature plastic man. Ah! Is that blood?
And I have to share that Vergil has arrived at long last and is guarding my office with his cold-hearted stare. He is all of ten inches tall, but intimidating nonetheless (not to mention pretty). Ouch. No need to poke me with your little pointy plastic katana, Vergil. I didn't mean it. Really. You're a very manly miniature plastic man. Ah! Is that blood?
Sunday, October 21, 2007
'Tis But a Scratch
...though it still hurts.
My poor car got a nasty dent in it's front driver's side wheel well. It was not my fault, but that doesn't make it any less frustrating. I was turning right out of a parking lot while the person in front of me was turning left. He headed out into the street without looking too closely and had to stop because there was traffic coming. That would have been fine because I was going by him to the right turn lane except he thought he was too far out in the street and decided to back up--without looking to see if someone was behind him. Crunch.
No one was injured--in fact, he wouldn't have even known he hit me if I hadn't hit my horn to get his attention. Still, now I have to deal with insurance. The most annoying part about it was waiting around for an hour for the cop to arrive and fill out paperwork. What a pain. Even though it's not my fault my insurance will probably go up. Grr...
And now my poor Quetzacoatl has a bad side. There were already two nasty door dings on the driver's side, so I guess this is just one more scar. Oh well. At least it's only superficial and didn't do any serious damage that impairs its ability to drive me where I need to go. The other driver was very nice as well and kept apologizing. I felt kind of bad for him because I know he got ticketed and he seemed like a very nice person who already has a lot of problems in his life--his wife has cancer, etc. Poor guy. Car accidents suck no matter what end you're on.
My poor car got a nasty dent in it's front driver's side wheel well. It was not my fault, but that doesn't make it any less frustrating. I was turning right out of a parking lot while the person in front of me was turning left. He headed out into the street without looking too closely and had to stop because there was traffic coming. That would have been fine because I was going by him to the right turn lane except he thought he was too far out in the street and decided to back up--without looking to see if someone was behind him. Crunch.
No one was injured--in fact, he wouldn't have even known he hit me if I hadn't hit my horn to get his attention. Still, now I have to deal with insurance. The most annoying part about it was waiting around for an hour for the cop to arrive and fill out paperwork. What a pain. Even though it's not my fault my insurance will probably go up. Grr...
And now my poor Quetzacoatl has a bad side. There were already two nasty door dings on the driver's side, so I guess this is just one more scar. Oh well. At least it's only superficial and didn't do any serious damage that impairs its ability to drive me where I need to go. The other driver was very nice as well and kept apologizing. I felt kind of bad for him because I know he got ticketed and he seemed like a very nice person who already has a lot of problems in his life--his wife has cancer, etc. Poor guy. Car accidents suck no matter what end you're on.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Thanks to you!
Just wanted to thank any of you who voted for my fanfiction in the UFO awards. I actually won something. Lookie here! A major award! Even better than a leg lamp.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Disappointment
My week has been pretty disappointing at nearly every turn--starting with my eye doctor's appointment on Monday. Luckily, it seems to be improving somewhat, though the seminar I had really been looking forward to yesterday turned out to be a major waste of time.
I was supposed to leave the training a Photoshop guru. Instead, I found that--judging by the super useful tips our facilitator was sharing with us--I'm already practically a guru. I know how to use the pen tool and everything. That's right. I can make a COB. Aren't you jealous? Apparently there was more than one person present at the seminar who would have been because they asked the facilitator to go into greater detail about this tool. I mean really...how much is there to learn? And he literally talked us through every step: click, drag, opt+click, drag.
What a drag. On top of that, many of the "techniques" taught in the seminar that weren't simply shameless self promotion on the part of the facilitator verged on offensively cheesey and not the kind of design I would care to pursue. You can call me a snob if you like. It's probably true.
Yes, I now know how to create a fake 3d lamp from scratch and make lightning with five filters or less. Because I'm going to use crap like that every day. And, if I"m "retouching" a photo I run into situations all the time when I feel the need to light the unlit candle in the room or open the wine bottle that the idiot photography failed to notice was still sealed. Even if I did encounter such a circumstance, I think I could probably figure out how to fix it on my own. To his credit, the facilitator was an amazing digital illustrator--if you're into hyper realism--but considering the majority of his audience were either photographers or designers and not illustrators, he could have improved his subject matter.
At least the day wrapped up nicely last night. I met some friends at AMC 29--just sounds weird with one less theater--to watch the Robotech movie on a bigger screen. It was overpriced, but fun and we all had a good time laughing at the cheese and ridiculous dailog. Ah, thank God for Robotech. And Flight of the Conchords. Listening to their goofy music in my car has saved my brain this week.
I was supposed to leave the training a Photoshop guru. Instead, I found that--judging by the super useful tips our facilitator was sharing with us--I'm already practically a guru. I know how to use the pen tool and everything. That's right. I can make a COB. Aren't you jealous? Apparently there was more than one person present at the seminar who would have been because they asked the facilitator to go into greater detail about this tool. I mean really...how much is there to learn? And he literally talked us through every step: click, drag, opt+click, drag.
What a drag. On top of that, many of the "techniques" taught in the seminar that weren't simply shameless self promotion on the part of the facilitator verged on offensively cheesey and not the kind of design I would care to pursue. You can call me a snob if you like. It's probably true.
Yes, I now know how to create a fake 3d lamp from scratch and make lightning with five filters or less. Because I'm going to use crap like that every day. And, if I"m "retouching" a photo I run into situations all the time when I feel the need to light the unlit candle in the room or open the wine bottle that the idiot photography failed to notice was still sealed. Even if I did encounter such a circumstance, I think I could probably figure out how to fix it on my own. To his credit, the facilitator was an amazing digital illustrator--if you're into hyper realism--but considering the majority of his audience were either photographers or designers and not illustrators, he could have improved his subject matter.
At least the day wrapped up nicely last night. I met some friends at AMC 29--just sounds weird with one less theater--to watch the Robotech movie on a bigger screen. It was overpriced, but fun and we all had a good time laughing at the cheese and ridiculous dailog. Ah, thank God for Robotech. And Flight of the Conchords. Listening to their goofy music in my car has saved my brain this week.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Devil May Cry 4 Lookalikes
While I have been whining about this game for some time, some of my frustrations have lessened due to certain improvements in character design. I'm still frustrated that Dante is not the main character, and the trailer video posted on the official website is painful to watch since it mostly involves Nero (the main character who supposedly has nothing to do with Dante despite the fact that he looks an awful lot like him and his name is even part of Vergil's title from the first game) beating the shit out of him. It's rather sad.
At least Dante no longer looks like Bill Pullman as he did in the picture below:
He now looks a lot more like Josh Holloway, which is exactly as things should be:
But while we're talking lookalikes, Nero is looking more an more like Tidus. Though I've seen very little of him in action (other than him ridiculously handing Dante's ass to him) I just know that he's going to be a huge whiner. This is his story after all. Grrr...
At least Dante no longer looks like Bill Pullman as he did in the picture below:
He now looks a lot more like Josh Holloway, which is exactly as things should be:
But while we're talking lookalikes, Nero is looking more an more like Tidus. Though I've seen very little of him in action (other than him ridiculously handing Dante's ass to him) I just know that he's going to be a huge whiner. This is his story after all. Grrr...
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Update 1: New Job
I changed jobs near the beginning of this month. While I hadn't been actively searching for a job, I happened to find a listing for a job that really interested me at UMKC. I had been thinking more and more that I wanted to work in a University setting, and UMKC had been on my list of choices. When I saw the listing I kind of freaked out because I couldn't believe it. From the job description to the benefits and everything else it was exactly what I had been looking for. But the job had been posted for several weeks already. I was afraid I was too late to apply. I got my application and resume together that night and got it in the mail the next day. Whether I had already missed the opportunity or not, I knew wouldn't feel right about it if I didn't at least try.
The next week I got an email from UMKC. They wanted to see some samples of my work. A spark of hope ignited inside me, but I tried not to fan it into a flame. I didn't want to get disappointed. I hate sending samples without being able to explain my work, but I sent them off anyway and crossed my fingers. I got a phone call asking for an interview the next day. I couldn't believe it.
While I was excited about the possibility of a new job, I hadn't gotten it yet and I didn't want to lose my current job. Because of they way my bosses had immediately figured out about the last interview I had gone on a few years ago, I knew that they would be extremely suspicious of any out of the ordinary behavior. I was very careful about not telling my coworkers anything about the job and I found a way to ask for time off without drawing too much attention to it. I spent that weekend getting my portfolio updated, but my current job unwittingly managed to make my life as difficult as possible that weekend. A project that had already caused much strife in my emotional and creative stability several times reared its extraordinarily ugly head again.
It was a project I had never wanted to think about again. A project that had prompted a "pep talk" with my bosses that was anything but and had nearly led me to a mental breakdown (and an emotional breakdown that actually happened). A project that had put me in such a state of extreme stress that I could barely eat and often threw up in the mornings because I was dreading going into work. Ironically, it was a project aimed at university students--the very audience I was wanting to find a job working for. But in the end it wasn't the project itself that had stressed me out. It was my frustration with the fact that no matter how hard I tried to do the best work I absolutely could--it never satisfied my bosses. They would censor my ideas and restrain me at every turn, and yet they had the gall to tell me that I was not being crazy enough and not taking enough risks. Why would I even consider taking a risk with something when it would only result in them forcing me to dumb it down before the client even saw it?
I managed to survive the weekend, working feverishly on my portfolio and leave behinds while trying to work in a photo shoot for that project (on the weekend, mind you, and Father's Day to boot). By the time the interview finally happened, I was simply ready for it to be over. It went really well--but once again, I was unwilling to get my hopes up. I had made it through without losing my current job, so I was satisfied.
The next morning I was on my way to work and got a phone call. I thought it was my mom. It was UMKC calling to ask me to come in for a second interview that morning. I obviously couldn't make it then, but I scheduled the meeting for Friday morning instead. I was elated. I knew it was too soon to assume anything, but I felt encouraged by the fact that I had gone as far as I had if nothing else. After several years of verbal abuse and constant disparagement my self esteem was dangerously low. I had begun to wonder if it would even be possible to find another job.
My interview on Friday was with the Vice Chancellor. It was informal and very relaxed. I was more excited than ever about the job when I heard about the structure of the department and where it was headed. I was so excited I could hardly stand it, but I somehow survived the rest of the day at work.
That afternoon I got a phone call. I got the job. Squeals of ecstatic job erupted in my apartment the moment I hung up the phone. I had done it. I was afraid of delivering my notice at work, but compared to the hell I had been going through it was easy--and sadly predictable... Lies about how insignificant I had been to them. Lies about how they had known for some time I was looking for a new job (which was really a joke considering I had gotten the first job I looked for). Abuse about how I belonged at a University because the work load was so much lighter and I would get six months to do a project. Looking back on that last one really makes me laugh. It's definitely not true--and I knew it even at the time. I felt no regrets. I had given them enough of my time. It was time to move on.
The next week I got an email from UMKC. They wanted to see some samples of my work. A spark of hope ignited inside me, but I tried not to fan it into a flame. I didn't want to get disappointed. I hate sending samples without being able to explain my work, but I sent them off anyway and crossed my fingers. I got a phone call asking for an interview the next day. I couldn't believe it.
While I was excited about the possibility of a new job, I hadn't gotten it yet and I didn't want to lose my current job. Because of they way my bosses had immediately figured out about the last interview I had gone on a few years ago, I knew that they would be extremely suspicious of any out of the ordinary behavior. I was very careful about not telling my coworkers anything about the job and I found a way to ask for time off without drawing too much attention to it. I spent that weekend getting my portfolio updated, but my current job unwittingly managed to make my life as difficult as possible that weekend. A project that had already caused much strife in my emotional and creative stability several times reared its extraordinarily ugly head again.
It was a project I had never wanted to think about again. A project that had prompted a "pep talk" with my bosses that was anything but and had nearly led me to a mental breakdown (and an emotional breakdown that actually happened). A project that had put me in such a state of extreme stress that I could barely eat and often threw up in the mornings because I was dreading going into work. Ironically, it was a project aimed at university students--the very audience I was wanting to find a job working for. But in the end it wasn't the project itself that had stressed me out. It was my frustration with the fact that no matter how hard I tried to do the best work I absolutely could--it never satisfied my bosses. They would censor my ideas and restrain me at every turn, and yet they had the gall to tell me that I was not being crazy enough and not taking enough risks. Why would I even consider taking a risk with something when it would only result in them forcing me to dumb it down before the client even saw it?
I managed to survive the weekend, working feverishly on my portfolio and leave behinds while trying to work in a photo shoot for that project (on the weekend, mind you, and Father's Day to boot). By the time the interview finally happened, I was simply ready for it to be over. It went really well--but once again, I was unwilling to get my hopes up. I had made it through without losing my current job, so I was satisfied.
The next morning I was on my way to work and got a phone call. I thought it was my mom. It was UMKC calling to ask me to come in for a second interview that morning. I obviously couldn't make it then, but I scheduled the meeting for Friday morning instead. I was elated. I knew it was too soon to assume anything, but I felt encouraged by the fact that I had gone as far as I had if nothing else. After several years of verbal abuse and constant disparagement my self esteem was dangerously low. I had begun to wonder if it would even be possible to find another job.
My interview on Friday was with the Vice Chancellor. It was informal and very relaxed. I was more excited than ever about the job when I heard about the structure of the department and where it was headed. I was so excited I could hardly stand it, but I somehow survived the rest of the day at work.
That afternoon I got a phone call. I got the job. Squeals of ecstatic job erupted in my apartment the moment I hung up the phone. I had done it. I was afraid of delivering my notice at work, but compared to the hell I had been going through it was easy--and sadly predictable... Lies about how insignificant I had been to them. Lies about how they had known for some time I was looking for a new job (which was really a joke considering I had gotten the first job I looked for). Abuse about how I belonged at a University because the work load was so much lighter and I would get six months to do a project. Looking back on that last one really makes me laugh. It's definitely not true--and I knew it even at the time. I felt no regrets. I had given them enough of my time. It was time to move on.
An Attempt to Catch Up
Has it really only been a month since I posted anything? It feels like a year. And enough has happened since then that I feel like I could have written a years worth of posts about everything as well. I'm going to do my best to catch my blog up with summaries of what happened--for my future reference if for nothing else. To keep things organized, I'll try to make separate posts about each particular crazy event or issue going on in my life recently.
It's an ironic fact that most of the time my life is boring enough that I have to struggle to find things to post about. But when significant things actually do happen to me, I'm usually so busy that I don't have time to post anything at all. That's how it has been for me lately. It actually got to the point where I was wishing my life would be a little less interesting because every day it seemed like I encountered something new or bizarre.
Only within the last few days do I feel like I'm starting to find a routine again and catch my breath. Can you tell I'm an introvert? I get overwhelmed with too much new input and life becomes nothing more than pure survival. While I don't want to be bored, I don't want to live me life in constant flux either. I'm ready to be bored.
It's an ironic fact that most of the time my life is boring enough that I have to struggle to find things to post about. But when significant things actually do happen to me, I'm usually so busy that I don't have time to post anything at all. That's how it has been for me lately. It actually got to the point where I was wishing my life would be a little less interesting because every day it seemed like I encountered something new or bizarre.
Only within the last few days do I feel like I'm starting to find a routine again and catch my breath. Can you tell I'm an introvert? I get overwhelmed with too much new input and life becomes nothing more than pure survival. While I don't want to be bored, I don't want to live me life in constant flux either. I'm ready to be bored.
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