A lot of things are happening this year, and I’ve been too… scared(?) to get ready for them. Fear of change, fear of growing older, they suddenly hit when I turned 17, and now that it’s 2010… Well, I’ve got to face these things, mentally kicking my past self for leaving me to do all this late.

I haven’t taken the SATs (I’m working on taking them this month, but have to pay extra because I’m late.) I haven’t applied to college (yeah, I’m a complete and utter idiot, what do you want from me?) I’ve lived in that “ocean of obliviousness,” as I call it. Every once in a while I fall into it—it’s a really terrible defense mechanism when I don’t want to deal with something. The worst part is, because of its own nature I can’t tell I’m in it until I get a mental slap in the face.

This time it was the New Year that woke me up.

I seriously need to be employed. Unfortunately I have no experience and no people skills. I had one job in my life, and I was fired. I had the worst attitude there, but I was also younger than now and at the time didn’t need the job or the money. Now I need to start saving money for a lot of things, including car insurance.  (My parents are great, because I’m getting an old beat up Volvo station wagon once I get a job and a car insurance plan from them.)

A job needs to have one of four things for me to be able to do it and not be totally miserable:  (A) be totally mindless so I can daydream out ideas for stories/comics, (B) be interesting or creatively stimulating, (C) give me material for stories/comics, or (D) give me a discount in something I’ll actually buy (like books at Border’s or clothes at Hot Topic.)

I wish I could just make comics/stories for a living. I really want to freelance for a while, on the side. I’d get little to no money, but hey I’d be doing what I like and get some recognition.  I’m horrible with deadlines, but MAYBE if I was being held accountable for them I can learn to draw/write ON TIME and not be a slave to my muse. Not trying to jinx it or anything, but this is the most I’ve ever updated a blog, even if it’s pretty much like this song:



Just a quick entry for that obligatory “Happy New Year” hub-bub.

In 2010—Two thousand ten? Twenty ten?—my life will turn on its head.  I’ll turn 18, I’ll be legal, I’ll have my full-adult license, I’ll graduate high school, I’ll start college (gods willing.) My parents will buy a house (again, gods willing), I’ll move into a pathetically tiny (but dirt cheap) apartment.  Probably a million other things I can’t think of at the moment.

On a totally unrelated note: my throat is on fire. Within the last month I found out I had an ulcer in my esophagus,  which means I have a list of stuff I’m not supposed to eat that I’ve been eating anyway.  That includes great stuff like chocolate, tea, whole milk, etc.  I had a goddamn donut with chocolate frosting, and boom, it’s like I swallowed lava.  *Painful growl*

*Waves off*

Technology hates me, no really!

Yes, I’m pretty sure technology hates me.

I’ve owned three laptops in my life. The first one never worked in the first place, the second developed a strange vertical green line and then crashed. My third one, the silver dell inspiron I happen to be typing on at the moment, has had a medley of annoying and frustrating issues. First, it crashed at least twice with different viruses. Months ago, the bottom 1/3 of the screen simply stopped working—I wasted money to fix it, and it worked for about 2 weeks, and then stopped working again. Currently it looks like an alien bruise, bright blue lines like a bar code, with a dull pink between the blue lines, and one spot of purple. I have no idea what this means. I’ve figured out how to work around it. Even got used to it—it’s like a tiny extreme HD screen. Most recently, my laptop refused to go onto Windows—it just blinking at me for hours on end. I reinstalled windows, lost some data, and uploaded two different versions of Word (a copy of ’97 I bought for a buck at a thrift shop* and ’07 because it’s new and shiny.)

And now, my laptop will not recognize its own internal Wi-Fi card or the internet even if it is directly plugged into a modem. I’ve lost all of the drivers on disks, and had to download them from the internet (via my father’s “family” desktop.) Even with these downloads, I cannot connect. I’ve printed a sheet of things to check—one thing said to look into Device Manager to see if it can recognize its Wi-Fi card. I just looked, and my computer can’t find the Device Manager either.

It’s just mocking me now.

On an upbeat note, I am 100% sure I will receive for Christmas a new laptop (for once, not eBay-bought) that I picked out. I’m just sulking for now, because there is no privacy on my Dad’s desktop, and it’s cold in the basement.

Other technology hates me too, mind. My DVD player stopped recognizing disks, and my cell phone frequently dies on me at full power. My DS is in pieces—though that is the fault of a friend, me, and Nintendo**. Every game will glitch in my presence. My TV constantly goes blank. My teacher’s SD card reader will not work for me, my SD card, or my computer. So, no, I don’t have to own the tech for it to hate me.

I wonder if I should use my powers for good or evil.

*I have excellent luck when it comes to thrift shops and yard sales.
**Never open up a DS lite to mod—Nintendo placed a failsafe, so that if you do open it, it will break the inside of its power button.

PS: (edit) I just remembered two more reasons I dislike the computer I have to use. One: IT’S HORRIBLE TO TYPE ON. I just made about fifty typos in the last few sentences. Two: My dad somehow made it impossible to have cookies on this computer, so that I get logged off of every website every few pages–very annoying on TDF.


Well, let’s just jump right in, shall we?

I’m a therian—a winged red wolf. Don’t you dare belly ache at my theriotype, “Oh, those don’t exist!” “That would make you an otherkin!” (I am an otherkin, but since I am an animal on the inside I still identify as a therian.) And no, I don’t want to hear your theories on why I would be a normal animal with wings for different reasons.

I’m a daemian too; though talking to myself is hardly as integrated into my identity as my therianthropy. My daemon says hi.

I am Pagan… not that I completely understand what that means, mind, it just feels right. I’ve decided to call myself Zen Pagan, because I agree with many ways of Zen Buddhism (Meditation, calmness, and living in the moment,) but do not believe in the fundamental ideas of Buddhism. I am polytheistic, and still learning and researching about the gods and goddesses—I won’t even pretend I know enough.

Oh, did you want to know about the title of my little blog? “My life is a sitcom,” this is a statement I’ve said very many times over the past few years—and a lot more recently since I discovered I’ve even titled my webcomic “Life is a Sitcom.” (You’ll notice that I tend to use titles and names over and over again, when I love ‘em I love ‘em.)

I will, eventually, post an entry that outlines just how my life is a sitcom, using tropes and examples from actual sitcoms. But I haven’t worked it out quite yet.

As for the technical stuff: I’m 17 years old, female, I live in a fantastic world with dragons and winged creatures…or was that just my headspace? My headspace doesn’t actually have dragons—it has bats and rabbits that are fun to hunt, woods and giant trees with wide, easy-to-land-on branches and cliffs and canyons with caves.

Where do I really live? In that magical place called “New York.” (Cue anime sigh and sweat-drop.) Yeah, the roads are paved with diamonds and there’s just so much to see. >> And creepy guys with no facial expressions or change of pitch in their voice asking you for your name. *Shudder*

Oh yeah, I guess I’ve been on TDF too long, because sometimes Izzy decides he absolutely must have an input—that will be in purple, in case you didn’t see that. (He’s not wrong though, that one guy was creepy.)

I think that was all I was really required to reveal about myself. I mean, what else must you know? That I’m a bookworm, a writer, a cartoonist, a romantic? I’m a poet, a wolf, a wannabe Glamour-bomber, and that kid that passes you on the street, with the brown jacket and light backpack. Don’t bother to look too closely.