Wednesday, February 27, 2013


Indecision to Confess

So it's been a little while since I've leapt on here, mainly because I have been majorly preoccupied with putting together my costume pieces for the Repo/TDC tour stop on the 15th. My mirror has come in, the costume shoes are on their way as well as the Alginate kit in order to mold someone's face and make Pavi's face effect. I have also commissioned two friends with tasks: one will be taking a pair of my skinny jeans and using them as a template to make a pair of skinny pleather pants, while another is making a sparkly scarf that he wears in the Mark It Up scene. Unfortunately, I have not heard from the Monster Makers site about my order of 32 ounces of Mask Latex and 8 ounces of Pale skin paint.

For those poor unfortunate souls who are unfamiliar with Repo! The Genetic Opera!

I have also been occupied with my birthday and the random events of graduate life: job finding and clinging to the friends made in college I'm not willing to release. 

However, despite this seemingly busy amount of action, this has been a rather uneventful week. I've been hit with post-graduation depression. I feel like I'm in a rut and stuck in a box applying for jobs I'll probably never hear back from. 

Oh, and I found a beard and adopted him. I have no idea where he came from but he needed a home. His name is Edgar as decided at last night's Improv Show at my old college. I met a few new people there including a gentleman with turquoise hair and another person interested in the roleplaying game, which probably means I'll start holding sessions at the old college campus. Lordi knows where. 

Maybe he'll tell me when he finishes shopping

However, the main dispute on my mind is that of a woman. More accurately, my primary debate is whether to tell her my feelings or not. Thank you, lack of confidence and overacting imagination. But y'all don't care about that.

So here is a picture of John Barrowman playing with dogs

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Fear: A Necessity

A Continuing Fear

After posting that previous entry on fear last night, I decided that I really wasn't done. I hadn't finished speaking and elaborating on fear. I spoke about what I am afraid of and how I can feed off my own fear when it comes to creating a world in writing. And I know the irrationality of many of my fears and how foolish it is to truly fear anything that isn't happening at this very moment. I even shared an image previously in my first post depicting that "Worry is a misuse of imagination."

That's the one

People are inclined to worry, inclined to fear. A surgeon will still worry about a procedure that he has performed a hundred times before. A student will still worry about a grade when all they've seen are good marks. A good driver will still become nervous when a police cruiser drives behind them.

Though if the cruiser is flying this badge, Fear is the appropriate response

So why do we oft feel fear and worry even when it comes to a situation where we are usually proficient and practiced? Why do we fear the irrational? Well, it's actually pretty simple, pretty much down to our genetics.

Wait, what?

Now, I don't mean that if your parents were Evel Knievels that you'll be all set to drive across the Grand Canyon. What I mean is that we weren't always so comfortable. Man was not always civilized and intelligent, nor are we all intelligent currently. Our ancestors dwelled in caves. They did not "poke" their friends and painted on the walls of their caves not just on each others' birthdays. When it was cold outside, they put on fur and a fire. But, most importantly, they lacked in doors, and caves, I shouldn't have to tell you, are potential safe havens for not just humans.


The early man was a creature of multiple predators. Fear came naturally and was a constant feeling to keep him on his toes. Not feeling fear left his defenses low and left him open to the slaughter by all manner of creatures: lions, tigers, and bears, and maybe even another tribe. It was a time where the creaking of a tree behind could either mean a settling from the wind or a telltale sign of a approaching threat, and it was instinct to opt towards the latter. 


So what does that mean for us? We aren't exactly facing that same threat every time we walk to work for example. We don't carry spears with us in our briefcases as we head to our cubicles anticipating attack. 

Despite the fact that those same threats do not exist for us anymore, we still become overwhelmed with fear. We fear irrational things like the darkness, or more accurately, what exactly could lie within. Despite the years of evolving and losing and gaining traits to make life more bearable, Fear and concern has been far too resilient and, frankly, rather beneficial for us over the millennia. Unlike Wisdom Teeth, fear still has a use with us. 

We all are living fairly comfortable lives, comparatively. But the remaining instinct of defense and fear is still there. It's a reflex and a natural response to one thing: uncertainty. We do not know if there is a creature in the shadows. We do not know if there is a murderer in the woods. We do not know if the cop is going to pull us over. We don't know. We'll never know. And that lack of knowledge opens the mind up to the response that our instincts have always led our ancestors to: Fear. Uncertainty is a path that leads to fear and we can not prevent uncertainty. The only thing we can do is cope and challenge that fear. 

Fear will always be with us, because it will always keep us alive, whether it is telling us to stay on our toes, or we're proving that our fears do not control us. 

Just don't be afraid to admit you're afraid.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Fear Itself: A False Concept

FEAR: For Every Average Revery

Fear: The Tool
Tonight, I was driving home from dropping off a friend. This evening has been a third installment of a roleplaying game that I've been holding with my friends Chucky and Steph (or Staph as my phone keeps insisting to call her). It's called Don't Rest Your Head and, if you can imagine it, is as if Sin CIty was built in Wonderland. Players portray normal people who suffer from an abnormal form of insomnia and end up going without sleep for months, leaving them capable of entering a horrifying city, destroyed and inhabited by monsters called Nightmares.

All in all, it's a fun game.

Now I am the one running the game, and while I have been rather proud of the past few sessions, this evening was fairly rough, but it is building up to a greater intense situation next game.

Fear: The Reality
Now, while driving home, I had the time to think, as my music was low and the GPS was guiding my way through unfamiliar territory. Let me set the scene: driving a truck in the dark night through heavily wooded areas with snow from previous storms spilling from their plowed position into the road. Welcome to the setup of a classic New England horror film. The drive gave me time to realize something.

I'm afraid. I'm afraid of several things.

I'm afraid of disappointing my friends and family and peers. I am afraid of my ideas being passed upon. I am afraid of not being recognized for something I have done and have pride in. I am afraid of finally admitting to the girl I have pined over for so long that these feelings exist.

I guess, overall, I fear failure.

Fear: The Irrational
While driving, several things were coming across my view, from glittering reflections in the snow, the shadows shifting with the onset of my headlights in the trees.

The greatest fear I possess besides the fear of failure is that of my own imagination. As I drove and viewed several unexpected instances of illusion. And my imaginations began to twist the world around me into a nightmarish creation. In a flash, I could see a creature, human only in appearance, falling to the hood of the truck and screeching like a banshee, and another moment, it would be gone, only to be replaced by the sound of incoherent muttering by a nonexistent spirit in my back seat.

Now, I may be an idiot, but I'm not so much an idiot to truly believe that the movement of shadows I see out of the corners of my eyes are anything but just that, but I am also aware of the nagging absurdity of the question "What if...?" which floats in the air whenever you try to assure yourself of the contrary.

As a writer, I clutch to that "What If" question. I opt for a, most likely, unhealthy immersion into this fearful delusion.

What if a creature really did fall upon my hood and it screeched at me?
What if I wasn't really alone in the truck, and an incoherent muttering filled the cab?
What if the shadows in the woods were truly a swarm following my path?

What if the Mad City from Don't Rest My Head proved true?

These fears are absolutely irrational, I know. But as a creative mind, if I can scare myself, then I should be able to scare others?

Fear: Partially Closed
Now, I am completely aware of reality and have a full grasp on it, and the fears that I focus on are those that are more firmly planted in everyday life. Mainly those mentioned about failure and loss. But when I want to write something to make others frightened and uncomfortable, I leave my rationality behind and decide to throw myself into these alternate versions of reality.

However, I'm afraid. I am afraid of a great many things.

But I do not fear admitting it.

Facing Adversity

A Mind More Twisted than Auntie Anne's Delicious Pretzels

No, here I am not talking about my own mind. Mine's just twisted like an "S". I am also not talking about the otherwise wonderful mashup artist that unleashed this combination of dance crazes upon us.

Watch if you are not afraid of losing sanity

 No, I am talking about an individual much more disturbed. So twisted and disturbed is this man that he must be restrained to a film.

Pavi Largo

Okay, I know a large amount of you all may not know the name, but I implore you, before you leap to Google, Bing, or whatever search engine you use, allow me to explain this person.

The greek tale of Narcissus, the handsome young man that was so infatuated by his own appearance that he remained at the bed of a stream, staring into his reflection for so long that he turned into a plant? Yeah. Think of that. Pavi is obsessed with his own appeal. He's a ladies man and, even at the opera, is surgically attached to a handheld mirror. To boast and exaggerate his physique, he wears tight black clothing, including leather pants. In fact, it's most likely that he wears mainly women's clothes. And he doesn't stop there with feminine fashion.

He wears women's faces.

Yes, that's right. Women's faces. Pictured above in one of the final scenes of the film, Pavi is wearing his final face, which is permanently and, in an absolutely haunting way, contorted in a smile, even when saddened.


But why do I devote time to talking about this twisted excuse for a man? Because he's Pavi fucking Largo. But also because I have an hour before friends show up to play a horror-based RPG. But also because the movie that he's from is going on tour yet again.

Repo! The Genetic Opera, it's creators, and their new project are all going on tour once again to meet the fans that have turned the film into an underground sensation. Their tour bringing around their newest film The Devil's Carnival brought Zydrate Addicts and Sinners forward in extravagant and gothic costumes.


Pavi Largo offers such a great opportunity for me as both a makeup artist of special effects as well as the fact that I've always kind of enjoyed the gothic fashion. Not to mention Halloween is my favorite holiday of all time. Costumes that inspire horror and questions about the process are what gives me enjoyment.
My self-attempt at the classic Two-Face from Batman

I will be attempting to make a mold of a woman's face and making a thin duplicate to apply to mine own. The difficult parts will definitely be finding the right costume pieces and maybe a wig. I've unfortunately cut my hair too short to pull off Pavi naturally. I am not too afraid of the mold and the creation of the face. My main concern about that process is finding someone willing to let me mold their face with plaster (or alginate if I can afford it) for twenty minutes or so while it hardens. 

However it goes, you can be sure that it will end up here.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Butter Fingers at the Appropriate Moments

I am eating popcorn at this moment, to explain the title

Yes, yes, this is all looking oh so promising an endeavor for me to update this twice in one evening. However, I am claiming my previous post merely introduction, and quit getting distracted by Mr Colbert's popcorn-eating habits. 

This has been a rather unproductive day, like most. I have a long-term relationship with my Netflix account and an infatuation with how my thoughts sound in my own head, not to mention a firm plant on my bed from which I find difficulty in removing myself. What did I watch? Ugly Americans, mostly. And the waterfall of posts across FaceBook. I have fed my rather unhealthy addiction to soft drinks and snack food. Perhaps I should also mention I have the body that everyone covets. And I do not mean people want my body. They want their body the more accurately mimic mine. I am slightly over 5 and a half feet tall and hovered around 130 pounds for the past eight years. And I eat like a fucking pig and I'm going to have a heart attack within the next few minutes. 

You keep looking at Stephen Colbert. I don't blame you, chief. You're jealous that he can be so amusing just stuffing his face full of buttery goodness while most likely viewing a picture that was needlessly re-released in 3D for the purpose of more revenue. And it's in an outdated red-blue format of 3D. Seriously, who is so excited to see one of those?

... Point taken, David. 

Actually, I don't remember for sure the last movie I have seen in the theater. As a graduated film major, that bothers me. Actually, now that I think, it was Wreck-It Ralph. And that was in 3D. Say what you will about the format, but I have an actual medical issue with this. If you're familiar with Futurama, there is an episode in one of the new seasons in which Leela and Bender have to go to Pandora (yes, from Avatar) and she can't see anything because the entire planet is rendered in the blue-red 3D color scheme. You don't have to be completely aware of the science behind why this color combination makes the picture pop to realize that is you have only one eye, the 3D effect would be wasted and the overall image will be skewed to near non-recognizable (Welcome to the world of my words). 

Well, my medical condition knocks my left eye's perception so out of whack, that my brain typically ignores what my left eye tells it. So whenever I put on those glasses and sit in the theater, my brain is like "Ho-ho-holy shit! I need to turn that piece of shit back on!" And then I have a headache.

That being said, most 3D films do not need to break free of the second dimension. Hell, some of these movies don't even need to break from the WRITTEN dimension or even the dimension of garbage. But, for some reason, much of the ones that are truly interesting in 3D are fairly poor. Avatar, while a visual spectacle, especially in 3D (which I did not see in 3D unfortunately), had the hackneyed storyline that constantly gets referenced in its reviews and critiques, but it was still a good movie. However, Transformers: Dark of the Moon, despite the fact that I've been a die-hard Transformers fan since childhood, was terrible from a film value, but I would have shelled out the cash to see that pop out more. But there are those that just don't need it. Mainly, flat-drawn cartoons like the old Disney movies they've decided to re-release to distract from an overall disappointing lineup as of late.

Oh well, Monsters' University is coming up soon, so that's something to look forward to, despite the fact that Mike Wazowski, Leela, and I are all in the same frustration station with 3D. 

But, who knows, maybe the 3D technology may improve more. The Nintendo 3DS may be a a dipped toe, but it's movement into the right pond. While the following images will never be applicable in a video format, but this is a cool little example of 3D images.
So here is a fantastic example of the processes of my attention. I started this entire long post mentioning my day, and it moved into popcorn and an impromptu rant about 3D films. Expect rants like this maybe. And more goofy pictures as a conclusion.
Sincerely, with distrust and No-Bake cookies

Who Am I?

Welcome to the Digital Representation of my Consciousness

I don't quite know what misfortunes of the universe has sent you in the direction of this blog, but here it is at long last. This blog has been sitting in my taskbar in Google Chrome for a good week, or maybe even more. It could have been procrastination, but when your tabs look like this...

...your knowledge of the contents of each tab becomes forgotten. A few of those tabs I don't remember opening. Yes, I have a problem. Well, I have many, and you're sure to hear very many of them if you decide to follow this blog.

I'm a procrastinator with issues allocating the importance of certain tasks. In more simple terms, I put the wrong tasks first and the more important tasks last. In even simpler terms, "OMG i cant dcide wht 2 do 1st!" Which is probably why I look hobo-ish at the moment, taking more priority in enjoying my time between filling out applications than how I look, thus, my scruffy appearance.

For the purpose of imagery, you may imagine this...

I'm an artist in my own eyes, and what that means to you is that I've cobbled together weird habits and tastes that you assume "artist" is my excuse. Well, while much of the former form of that assumption is correct, I am, in fact, an attempting artist. You'll, no doubt, be subjected to what I do on this little blog.

Spray Paint prints of a raven skull for Secret Satan

Speaking of my posts, they will be frequently varying in frequency and type. I may be posting amusing pictures if I feel like I've spammed FaceBook too much for one day.
Tangent: I do have a Facebook and Twitter, but no Tumblr. Please don't ask.
I may also be posting my thoughts and angst for the day, but it won't be all bitching. I may even post some dilemmas as far as story ideas and maybe even excerpts or even standalone dialogue that I've spat to myself in wandering my household.

So who am I and why should you pay attention to what I have to say? Simple. I'm no one. I'm the guy in the coffee shop that sits alone in the booth and ponders, the one who is so deep in thought he has yet to realize he hasn't even left home and is not even in that coffee shop. I'm the one who prefers to hide in his mind. I end up overthinking and garnishing my words with far too articulate a language that puts people off when all I truly want is recognition. Such a contradiction. Upon your first impression, I'm an introvert who really breaks into conversation at the drop of a hat, but is much more eloquent when he sits down and thinks. Unfortunately, in conversation, that often leaves me behind if I spend too much time considering.
So how the hell did this happen???

So, what will end up being posted on this board? Stories about my day, mostly, in which I failed to really think on the spot. Or I'll brag to you that I succeeded to trounce my compatriots with my own brilliance on the spot. And that is a rare instance of conceit. My confidence, thanks to self criticism and outside influence, has been double-tapped and thrown into the river. 

I could continue on with what else I may share with you all, but why ruin the mystery?

For my closing, I'll leave you all with a posting of this blogger in his natural habitat while still outside his comfort zone by attempting to bring his voice above the natural key.