We are finally LIVE with our
fundraiser! The FROGDONUT ALLIANCE is up and running, and needs support at
every level! No, it’s not charity: we’re giving away cool perks aplenty, from
Scott’s awesome kitbash mech sculptures and my jewelry to our pro skillz at a
slight discount. Everything we raise goes toward moving me to Cheeseland, where
my fiance and I can collaborate in person, raise the dead, bring about the
zombie apocaly--- er. I mean, make cool
art together. Yeah.
We understand many of our friends
and family are in the same financial suck-it-in position as we are. But hey,
please pass on the link, and talk up the cause for us, huh? It’s good karma.
Plus, you’ll get to see us create wonderful weirdness together. It’s hella
better building skeleton props, freaky collages, and writing songs and stories
together when you’re RIGHT THERE to bounce ideas back and forth.
Not to mention, you really do
need more than two tentacles to perform the Elder God Raising Ceremony...
So please, spread the word! Chip
in a buck or five! Snigger at how goofy we look on camera! (No, we’re not
buying you popcorn to rewatch it again.)
More regular weirdness and
updates soon. Excuse me. Something’s banging on the walled-over well in the
basement again...have to go get some tuna from the store...
I’ve been wondering a great deal lately about the
intertwined concepts of time and happiness. I know folks who fill their
schedules with all kinds of activity, work or classes, things they believe they
need to do and, all too often, very
little they want to do. Until a few
months ago, I was in that rank. And believe me, it is pretty rank, that feeling of being trapped in your own life.
"And who told you to screw over all your contributors? Could it be, I don't know...SATAN?"
Aw, fuck, you say: don’t tell me she went and became born-again!
HELL NO. However, my outlook has changed. I’ve written very little this summer, partly due to
the lack of an air-conditioned, noncrowded environment (I am not one of those lucky souls who can
write on a bus, or really anywhere populated by loud, moving distractions), but
partly because I’ve been engrossed in other pursuits. This isn’t a bad thing.
In fact, this is the first time in my life that I haven’t sensed the Reaper
standing behind me, looking at his watch and then at my (lack of) personal
publication credits. I’ve done a little editing for others, some reading, some
art...and this is the first time in years I’ve been inspired to DO and to MAKE
stuff, and have done so. So, I haven’t been creatively idle, and I’m happy with
that, even though my writing has lagged.
Also, much of my time has been involved in dreaming and
planning for a future with my fiance. As he’s fantastically creative in ways I’ve
never considered before, he’s a marvelous inspiration; we toss ideas back and
forth like a deranged game of badminton every day. A great deal of time and
creative effort has gone into our Indiegogo campaign (which, fingers crossed,
launches later this week). So again: productive and enjoyable.
That’s nice, you say. Now what does that have to do with
the price of slaves in corporate America? Well...everything. The point is, I’m
not worried about meeting self-imposed deadlines anymore. I’ll get to it all.
And I’ll enjoy it. Even if I never
hit the bestseller lists, even if we have to scrounge for bill money, even if
we hold several odd jobs simultaneously. Because the majority of my and my
fiance’s time will be spent making art, exploring the world around us, and
enjoying each other. And this is what life should
be...for everyone.
Yeah, right, you say. That’s sweet and all. But some of
us have to live in the REAL WORLD.
What makes you think the real world has to be full of Mostly Shit You Don’t Want to Do But Have To?
But...job security! Retirement! Bills! Success!
The asshole of Success. Wait. Face of. I get those confused.
Yeah...fuck that. I’m not saying some of that isn’t
important. I’m saying people place far
too much emphasis on things they honestly hate. Whatever your spiritual
beliefs, we only have one shot at this
life. So many years between gaining some education and watching our bodies
decay. Decades are nothing. WHY ARE
YOU WASTING SO MUCH TIME DOING THINGS YOU DISLIKE? Why take classes you don’t
enjoy, just to “pad out” your schedule? Why toil at a job where your work isn’t
appreciated – or worse, is largely meaningless? Why fill up a day with so many
things that you have “no time” for stuff you actually enjoy? That’s madness. It’s
a madness that sucks us all in. The great lie of our society, for centuries,
has been driven like concrete pilings into the once-fertile swamps of our
imaginations: DO WORK YOU HATE BECAUSE OTHERWISE YOU WILL STARVE. (Variations:
Work Hard No Matter What Because if You Don’t You’ll Go to Hell; and If You Don’t
Have Tons of Money You’re a Failure.)
A truth, which I realize is far from new, but which only
hit me recently: it’s far better to be happy than wealthy. I barely get by. But
this is the happiest I’ve ever been. I’m able to let bullshit dealt by others
mostly slide off, whereas before I would’ve brooded for weeks. I’m impatient to
move, but not worried. It will happen, and soon. Oh sure, I’m in
love; the endorphins in my brain blah blah yakety schmackety blah blah. You
know what? That’s not what this newfound contentment is about. Love is
certainly part of that, but the overarching theme here, guys, is possibility. My misanthropy, twisted
imagination, and weirdness is of such a particular curve that I believed a “soulmate”
impossible for me. Yet we found each other, and within two days of talking,
knew we’d found The One. Odds were so against this, that it’s made me reevaluate
my beliefs about everything.
Except this. This still sucks ass.
It’s made me realize I don’t need to slave at anything I hate. I don’t need to get this creative project done like yesterday what the hell is wrong with you lazy cow. I have
perhaps 30 years of health left to me. Why
the fuck would I waste them doing things that don’t make me happy?
Why does anyone? What's that? You have REASONS, you say?
So, from a neophyte neoVictorian writer and happily
creative weirdo, take this and chew on it a good long while, peoples: Stop thinking you HAVE to do ANYTHING.
You ALWAYS have the option of not doing
it. Are there consequences? Sure. Now weigh those against how fucking
miserable you’re making yourself.
Is misery really the sane choice? How many years do you
have left? Forty, twenty, ten? Tomorrow?
Stop that shit right now. Do what makes you happy.
Wicked cool announcement coming soon about the fundraiser my
fiance and I have been determinedly crafting for several weeks! Yes, that’s
where I’ve been: mired in uncooperative WinDoze programs, discussing plans with
my love, and realizing my tonguetip still sticks out of my mouth when I’m
coloring intently.
I had hoped to have this campaign running a couple of weeks
ago...but things have repeatedly proven trickier than anticipated. However, we
WILL persevere! We will edit on the beaches! We will mix them in the towns! We
have nothing to pumpkin spice but PUMPKIN SPICE ITSELF!
