A good reason to hate dreams.

I can't really imagine a way to put a humorous spin on this one.

That was undoubtedly the worst dream of my life. Set way back in the day when we first moved to Maryland and the family was still together.

It's funny how hard on yourself you can be when you forget where you're coming from.

It's a universal fear.

Drawing on the Buttercup Festival influence here. It's just a cat breaking free of its leash and flying back to its owner's house to lay on his keyboard.

I think I'm going to work this into a painting this summer. It might look okay all fancy'd up.

Learning C++ has been great fun so far. I used to make games on my graphing calculator in middle school, and some of that knowledge actually transfers over.

[NOT INTERESTING] Games made in TI code:

- A "game" in which you press enter until you see a poorly-drawn dog.
- A version of drug wars that my teacher couldn't yell at us for having: School Wars. You could buy and sell pencils.
- An overhead Legend of Zelda Arena game where you fought in real time for gold to buy and use spells from Final Fantasy.
- Text-based Civil War strategy game.

The game I was working on before I lost my calculator was aimed to be a roleplaying deal in a town where you could do absolutely anything. Hundreds of hidden stats governed your efficiency and reactions in any given situation. I got the combat system down first because I was 12 and my ideal "do anything" town game needed a combat system.

[/NOT INTERESTING]

I'm pretty set on Artificial Intelligence as the ideal career path, but pretty much anything that relates to robots / atmospheric gaming will keep me happy. Twelve hour shifts aren't a problem if I'm at a computer.

The legendary Buttercup Festival: http://www.buttercupfestival.com/

*Reaches for beer and knocks it over*

Almost true story. It was 11, not 5.

Essentially, my sensory system is fucked. Certain sounds, textures, smells, and sensations might provide me with an over or under reactive response. This is not linked to obsessive compulsive disorder and does not interfere with one's perception of / connection to reality. It's physically-affective, so imagine trying to stop your car by pressing the brakes but they don't work as well as you'd like them to and then people laugh at you for bumping in to the curb.

The ability to complete common "trials" such as focusing on someone in a crowded restaurant, driving in the dark (headlights), or walking around without tripping suffers. As does one's processing speed when it comes to sensory input and learning.

Characterized by high intelligence, usually leads to performance anxiety in work / school / social situations, and depression.

Still unsure as to why my parents decided not to tell me, though it may have been a good move on their part. As with most things, the remedy seems to be effort and exercise, and looking at a test for diagnosis has shown me how much I've improved since I was younger.

I don't plan to buy into it too much. It definitely sounds like a fancier way of saying that I'm not social enough. It's nice to know that I may've had a legitimate excuse for being clumsy and aloof for so many years, though.

HA HA HA THE JUDGEMENTAL BEAR HAS BREASTS THAT ARE EXPOSED. HA HA HA HA.

I'm teaching myself C++ today. I don't really have time to make a comic.

Pretend it's by an artist that you respect and that they're doing it to be ironic.

Then make me a gin and tonic. Post haste, supersonic.

Who are the Mythbusters?

For the record, I love Mythbusters like suburban white girls like getting so sassy that they end up talking in MTV ebonics.

For those who are unfamiliar with the show, two special effects wizards get a sizable budget to test myths by making the largest explosions that they can and recording said explosions on a high speed camera.

Seeing as youtube high speed footage of even the most mundane occurrence (DUCK FLAPS WINGS ONCE AND LOOKS TO THE LEFT - HIGH SPEED) is functional pornography for me, it puts me in a happy place.

That's not to mention Kari Byron being religion's last presentable evidence of an intelligent God. Or the fact that as a certified "word nord", the narrator's habit of employing the kind of puns that would get you shot dead by Gandhi actually make me smile.

Sure, there's a lot of looking into the camera and saying "science" at unjustifiable times. Sure, it occasionally looks like the "build crew" is being held at gunpoint and told that their parents will be microwaved if they don't act "so happy". It's still a genuinely great show, and here's proof:

The two facial expressions used in this comic look like they were ripped directly from achewood. I'm not sure if it's so much the result of stealing as it is the result of a shared love of minimalism (laziness).

God damn it, David Lynch.

In a segue from yesterday's comic, I take some time to honor the genius of Director / Onanist, David Lynch. A man that I think is kind of bad.

Yes, I've seen all of his films. Yes, Elephant Man is okay. Yes, Mulholland Dr has two ladies getting it on buck nasty. Can't argue with you there!

Lynch's shining moment was creating what a friend and I have coined the "Clown Fetus Face" scene that appears in Inland Empire. As someone who's grown to watch his movies as a source of B movie lulz, I can't see him topping it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x1V4v0CPyMo - Son of a bitch disabled embedding, but here's the clip. You can skip to the last quarter of it to see what I'm talking about, or you can wade through minutes of "art" for an ineffective moneyshot and then wonder how Lynch gets the money to produce these movies.

Props for using the girl from Jurassic Park, at least.

PS - I'm proud of that hat in panel one. Expect more fancy hats.

What is this I don't even

Okay, two things:

1.) The minute I try to add expression to a figure it becomes disgustingly disproportionate, humanized, and disturbing.

2.) This comic was completely reworked upon my realizing that.

I can see myself being the only person in the world that finds this six-panel abortion remotely relevant or funny. It seems like it belongs in the middle of an absurd story arc or a cacaphobic's worst nightmare. But it is just on a blog.

Try to imagine the last three panels playing to the first 20 or so seconds of this:

Funny, no?

Anyway:

I got a lead on making indie music for flash games today, which has nothing to do with comics but is really exciting for me.

Magnus Palsson, the composer of the retro soundtrack for the upcoming VVVVVV returned an e-mail of mine in an extremely supportive way and got me right on track. I'm reworking one of my songs to progress from 8 bit to fully orchestrated and back to the beginning in a loop.

I guess that's why I kinda half-assed this. Endless Auspice is the aim address if you'd like to check in on the progression of the song.

And here's a link to the elegantly simple VVVVVV, if you'd like to check out the music: http://www.kongregate.com/games/TerryCavanagh/vvvvvv-demo

It's only a two-level demo, and the music doesn't become excellent until stage two. So nut up and get there until I can find the song on youtube.