Sibling rivalry:

You know, I think that most siblings born within ten years of each other go through this decade long phase of arguing with each other incessantly over absolutely nothing.  This period serves several purposes:
1. It proves which sibling is better.
2. It drives parents, cousins, friends, pets, furniture crazy.
3. It gets useless arguing out of your system.

Sometimes, siblings just don't have this sort of "rivalry" while growing up together.  Lots of factors can influence this--your parents' marital status, your school life, your extended family, the growing availability of internet, etc.  In the instance of my brother and I, all of the above factors kept a sort of distance between us that bred fondness for the others' company, a fondness that is rare between younger siblings. 
But we aren't young anymore, now, are we?

Don't get me wrong.  My bro is my favorite dude on the planet.  Literally.  He's amazing.  And so when we decided, hey, we should live together, it seemed like THE. BEST. IDEA.
Hindsight is 20/20.
There is no one I would rather live with, and I mean that, honest.  But I'm starting to think that maybe because we missed that nice little decade worth of horrible fighting and bickering and hair-pulling and going na-na-na-nu boo- boo at one another, we are swiftly reentering a second childhood where proximity has forced us into an uncomfortable tense phase of "relearning" who and what we are, and what we mean to each other.
This has been rewarding in a lot of ways.  One, I'm really learning what it means to have someone in my ADULT life related to me by blood  who I trust implicitly and know will take care of me and love me no matter what.  I've really got this horrible fear that all the love I experience with the exception of my best friend, dad, and mom, is conditional.  Finding this awesome dude who has orbited my life but rarely directly influenced it has been an amazing experience over the past few years.  We've lived together now for three months and all the pluses are great.  Some of the minuses though can be rough.  Admittedly, it's mostly my fault.  I tend to nit pick with the bro for no reason at all.  He is tolerant of it.  But sometimes, he intentionally antagonizes me to combat my bitchy, cynical nature. The below comics are demonstrations of actual events.  Enjoy.


"If you give me snacks I'll reward you by no longer invading your personal space!"  -Teej 

snacks II:

snacks I:

Guest Artist: Issabella (It's time to dance!)

"Me (Bella. She's the flower.) and T.J. have an idea and we're going to go to the movie theaters! To see a great movie!"

"Sarah likes to dance, like a tooth. Patrick (the ghost) likes to dance with Sarah!"

"The Vampire Girl (???) likes to dance, too!"

"P.S. Yes, she found out how to dance!"

This week's guest comic author (Oh, I forgot. I'm doing guest artist/comics! Send me yo' stuff!) is my six-year-old little sister, Issabella. She saw me working on the one for next week (Hint: it has something to do with a light-bulb!) and wanted to draw as well. I would write more about the experience, but she really, really wants to watch Superman and Wonder Woman on my computer, so I'll have to cut this one short. 

-T

Sarah 1.

So at the advice of my good friend, Natxtron, I will be continuing to utilize the venerable sketchbook-and-cell-phone-camera method that I've worked so fiercely to bring into the realm of artistic legitimacy.

OK, well maybe not "fiercely" per say; more like "I'm too poor to afford a scanner, and to pre-occupied to go break into MCA and use theirs." That about sums it up correctly. So far, the method for transferring images sort of works, and with my pro-software (ie: iphoto) I can usually make them somewhat readable. Generally speaking my biggest problem is trying to find an angle to snap them at the doesn't include the shadow of my thumbs, or forearms.

That and my damn cellphone wants to argue with me about weather or not I've pushed the button to take the photo or not. I'm sure my neighbor enjoys my ranting "Don't give me any more lip! Take the damn photo!" to the small electronic device which is constantly finding new and improved ways to subtly control my life.

So, I need advice on layout still. Should I change the color/appearance of the blog itself? Words under the pics, or in the frames? There will be more experimentation, perhaps, as I continue the arc of Sarah's Secret Origin!

-T

PS: Big shout out to Patrick for his help with the whole picture/ink advice thingie!

B'aww!

                                             > I'm going to bed.
                                             > Lonely.
                                                                                              I miss you, too.  <
                                             >  <3
                                                                                  Don't worry, soon I'll be <
                                                                                  around to hold you until
                                                                                  you fall asleep.
                                            > Heartmelt.

                                                                         Aww, you can have mine. <3 <
                                          > Nonono! I'll break it!

                                                              I'm not worried; these days I just get  <
                                                              plastic ones.
                                                                                                             In bulk. <

True Story.

So I really need to get a scanner. Maybe photoshop as well, or at least a clue as to how we should actually make these wacky comics. While I'm at it, I could use a clue as to how "dating" works again.

I swear that I had this down, back in high school... (Ahh, the 90's. How I miss my long hair, terrible skater punk, rap-rock, and abstract 3-D trapper keeper illustrations. Wait, no. No. It was "Hammer Pants " that I missed. Sorry, moving on.) There was a time-honored and highly efficant system set in place that we all would adhere to:

First, you would go out on a date. (Usually this meant holding hands in the Library, and sitting next to each other at events. I went to a performing arts high school, so most of us were too busy with after school activities to actually do anything fun.)

Next, if you went out on more "dates", you could be considered "dating". (Congratulations! Now you're  skipping lunch, and making out under the stairwell.) "Dating" was more of a casual thing, though in all honesty, very few people played this up because back then after about a week of this (A week? They've been dating fooooorever!) you jumped into:

Going Steady. This was a big deal- you got to throw the BF/GF word around like you were cool, because honestly, back then it was pretty cool. Generally speaking, this also meant that you got to put your hand up a shirt, which back then was a fairly big deal. Just sayin'. This would continue on for a couple of weeks (or sometimes longer) until one of you decided it was time to go "date" someone else. This usually corresponded with a class schedule thing. (I'm sorry, baby. The distance thing just isn't working out.)

Now-a-days everything is all different and confusing. No one wants to put labels on anything. No one wants to define an emotion, because it isn't "cool", or "free", or whatever bullshit you want to throw out there in order to make slutting around sound hip and socially acceptable. You see the thing is this: we aren't just making out under the stair well anymore, and relationships aren't a month with the big climax being you got to second-and-a-half-base. People become intimate, get attached, form heavy emotional opinions of each other, and then have to deal with the consequences. Then they try to pretend this isn't happening.

There are consequences to this sort of behavior; the easy and obvious ones are the risk of immediate physical repercussions, ie: sexually transmitted diseases, pregnancy, jealous ex-lovers assaulting your new fling with scissors, etc. The less obvious are the issues with self-esteem, placing value on your use, or ability to be used by others, and the need for approval and validation that may seems socially acceptable right now, but in reality, is mostly only that way because people are pretending it's so for their own social agenda. (Usually this is to validate their desire to get into your pants. If you're OK with that, than so be it, but don't try to dress it up as anything other than what it is.)

Think about it, for observable/recorded human history, as well as anthropological human history, we've been pairing up like it's cool. Because it is. Weather you believe from a spiritual standpoint that we were created to function in this manner, or you look at the overwhelming majority of cultures that have existed since, well, we have- this learned behavior is present for a reason. A very good one. Simply put, "banging' around town" (to borrow a phrase from Baconista) has consequences, usually not very good.

Does that mean that you shouldn't test the waters? Experiment a bit? Conduct a sampling mode of the target demographic, and extrapolate the qualities that you're looking for based on sound logic and experimentation? Certainly not! (Says, I, at least.) It's just that it seems, well, tricky. How do you accomplish this in a responsible manner, and not wind up unnecessarily standing in someone else's Kool-Aid?

Time, I think, may be the answer. All too often we feel the need to rush from one relationship, to another, even if it's a serious of micro-encounters, because we're too afraid of being left alone with our own emotions and problems to solve. It's so much easier to pack them all into a shoe-box, tape it shut, and bury it in your closet while making room for your new lover's things. Even if it's only a week, a month, or a couple of hours. This, simply put, isn't healthy, and you're only doomed to repeat your mistakes over and over again until you learn to face, and resolve them.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry, random goth chick from Saturday's Halloween party; I don't care how hot you are, I am not your exit strategy.

-T