You got a problem with it?
Monday, October 31, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
The Underworld Gets Little Internet Service
Dear readers,
I would like to formally apologize for my untimely demise, for I have indeed died. I know, it's a pity. What you are reading now is my will.
To my first follower, I leave my personal gang robe. To my vlogger friend April, I leave my trident. And to everyone else I leave my wolverine action figures and pokemon beanbag chairs.
Sincerely,
-gfish
...
Okay. Fine. Have it your way, I haven't died. But I have banished myself to the dark corners of the Underworld... because I'm a horrible person and deserve this fate. Also, if I had to go anywhere when I died, I would want it to be the Underworld, because that would mean that I was right all along and mythology does exist. It does. I swear it upon the river Styx.
Anyway, enough apologies and whatnot. I have had crap to deal with, but I'm not going to tell you about it because Negative Nancies and Debbie Downers are lame. And they deserve the fields of Asphodel (mythology nerd term for field of punishment in the Underworld). Besides, I don't really have any excuses for not finding time to blog.
The point of this post, however, is that I'm back, and I'm going to try harder to write posts more regularly. I shall set goals for specific days, and glower angrily at myself in the mirror when these goals are ignored.
For now I'm going to try for a post every Friday, and if the muses inspire more, than there shall be more.
I would like to formally apologize for my untimely demise, for I have indeed died. I know, it's a pity. What you are reading now is my will.
To my first follower, I leave my personal gang robe. To my vlogger friend April, I leave my trident. And to everyone else I leave my wolverine action figures and pokemon beanbag chairs.
Sincerely,
-gfish
...
Okay. Fine. Have it your way, I haven't died. But I have banished myself to the dark corners of the Underworld... because I'm a horrible person and deserve this fate. Also, if I had to go anywhere when I died, I would want it to be the Underworld, because that would mean that I was right all along and mythology does exist. It does. I swear it upon the river Styx.
Anyway, enough apologies and whatnot. I have had crap to deal with, but I'm not going to tell you about it because Negative Nancies and Debbie Downers are lame. And they deserve the fields of Asphodel (mythology nerd term for field of punishment in the Underworld). Besides, I don't really have any excuses for not finding time to blog.
The point of this post, however, is that I'm back, and I'm going to try harder to write posts more regularly. I shall set goals for specific days, and glower angrily at myself in the mirror when these goals are ignored.
Ignore the fact that technically... this mirror image makes no sense whatsoever.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Apparently You All HATE Me
Despite my best efforts to include a bit of reader involvement... I have been extremely disappointed. I offered all of you only the best of my drawing efforts, and in return I got a harsh reminder that nobody actually reads this blog. I know, some of you will look back at my last post and go, "No, don't be sad, gfish, what about April? She gave you pictures to spend time drawing." BUT NO. Because while I am grateful for April and her requests, I had to tell her to get over here and ask for a picture... because I'm just that much of a loser. Oh God, the neediness.
Okay, I'll stop now, I promise. I've ranted my self-loathing for the week. You can only really have a certain amount of bitching before people actually start to hate you. Besides, I'm assuming that if you are here reading this now, then you can't really hate me all that much. Hopefully. Maybe people just don't like artwork. Or love.
I feel like sometimes people just complain more than they enjoy life as it is. It's human nature to want sympathy, even if the only bad thing that's happened to you is that you dropped your Eggo on the floor that morning. Honestly, the little things are okay to listen to. My friends and I constantly complain to each other about tests, too much homework, mean teachers, and stupid people. It's when it becomes excessive that I get a bit uncomfortable.
I feel like I am usually a very good listener. When people talk to me, I shut up, nod, ask questions, and share a comfortable amount of eye contact. I am concerned and offer advice, and if there is no solution I say, "Wow, that sucks I'm so sorry" with all the earnestness I have. Unfortunately, this has no off switch. I can never seem to tell people when enough is enough. Then again I have trouble telling people anything about how I'm actually feeling if it isn't something positive. Usually my limit of emotional response is just the "really" face:
So in conclusion, I don't hate any of you, which is a good thing. Unless you love hatred, and thrive on it, and eat it for breakfast. Then you can have all of my hatred by the bucket loads, because I care about the occasionally backwards fellow that crosses my path. For the rest of you, I love you for honoring me with your presence here, reading this blog. Please release any hatred that has begun to harbor due to my occasionally self-pitying nature.
In other words, RELEASE THE KRACKEN.
Please ignore the fact that the above line may or may not relate to anything I just said.
Okay, I'll stop now, I promise. I've ranted my self-loathing for the week. You can only really have a certain amount of bitching before people actually start to hate you. Besides, I'm assuming that if you are here reading this now, then you can't really hate me all that much. Hopefully. Maybe people just don't like artwork. Or love.
I feel like sometimes people just complain more than they enjoy life as it is. It's human nature to want sympathy, even if the only bad thing that's happened to you is that you dropped your Eggo on the floor that morning. Honestly, the little things are okay to listen to. My friends and I constantly complain to each other about tests, too much homework, mean teachers, and stupid people. It's when it becomes excessive that I get a bit uncomfortable.
I feel like I am usually a very good listener. When people talk to me, I shut up, nod, ask questions, and share a comfortable amount of eye contact. I am concerned and offer advice, and if there is no solution I say, "Wow, that sucks I'm so sorry" with all the earnestness I have. Unfortunately, this has no off switch. I can never seem to tell people when enough is enough. Then again I have trouble telling people anything about how I'm actually feeling if it isn't something positive. Usually my limit of emotional response is just the "really" face:
So in conclusion, I don't hate any of you, which is a good thing. Unless you love hatred, and thrive on it, and eat it for breakfast. Then you can have all of my hatred by the bucket loads, because I care about the occasionally backwards fellow that crosses my path. For the rest of you, I love you for honoring me with your presence here, reading this blog. Please release any hatred that has begun to harbor due to my occasionally self-pitying nature.
In other words, RELEASE THE KRACKEN.
Please ignore the fact that the above line may or may not relate to anything I just said.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Taking requests
Hey everyone.
In an attempt to completely avoid all the work that I really need to get done, I will be taking requests for drawings. It can be anything from a flying dinosaur eating a guitar to a sunset. These drawings will be done in paint, like my other ones, so they will most likely be extremely beautiful and glorious.
Please do not request anything profane or inappropriate. I will be the judge of appropriateness.
Anyway just post in the comments below and I will draw it eventually, most likely putting it upin my next post at the bottom of this one. If nobody posts... then I'll be kind of sad. I feel like I have many more followers now than I could have ever hoped, and the virtual robe customizing business is booming. Now is the time to prove your following ability by giving me things to do! For any of you who have not read my previous post about gang robes, we have them. And they have hidden pockets. And sexy ties. AND TRIDENTS.
In an attempt to completely avoid all the work that I really need to get done, I will be taking requests for drawings. It can be anything from a flying dinosaur eating a guitar to a sunset. These drawings will be done in paint, like my other ones, so they will most likely be extremely beautiful and glorious.
Please do not request anything profane or inappropriate. I will be the judge of appropriateness.
Anyway just post in the comments below and I will draw it eventually, most likely putting it up
Beautiful drawing #1 goes to APRIL!!!!
Picture of April vlogging :D
April wins drawing #2 as well, despite there being no competition for drawings whatsoever!
Because Pottermore hates everybody.
#3 goes to myself...
IM SO SORRY HOW LATE THIS IS AND THAT I TOTALLY FORGOT THAT I KNEW YOU.
I have taken out Goldilocks and replaced her with THE MOST AWESOME PERSON EVER.
Due to my failing at actually doing things I need to do... I will no longer be drawing things for people until a later date when I say so.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
If I Were An Octopus
So the other day I got to thinking... what would life be like if I were an octopus?
Would I really be able to do eight things at once? Or would I only be able to concentrate on one thing at a time, and simply put eight arms into the effort? I feel like being an octopus would be a bit of a downer. I mean, they have no opposable thumbs, and their suction cupped arms make them attach to everything. That would be like an eternity of having leftover glue-stick glue on your fingers and not being able to wash it off. It's not ideal.
Would I really be able to do eight things at once? Or would I only be able to concentrate on one thing at a time, and simply put eight arms into the effort? I feel like being an octopus would be a bit of a downer. I mean, they have no opposable thumbs, and their suction cupped arms make them attach to everything. That would be like an eternity of having leftover glue-stick glue on your fingers and not being able to wash it off. It's not ideal.
Being an octopus is definitely over-glorified.
Short post is short.
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