Lost My Trains

Yes, another strange comic. If you don't get it, think harder.

Bad Fortune Teller

It's Late, Hope You're Hungry.

A little comic I just did. Comment if you like it.

Hungry

The Way it Goes

I think I've decided against the webcomic. The first strip I had almost completed when I lost everything, and it took me way too long (I didn't think it looked that great, anyway.) I liked the idea of it, so that means it will most likely see the light of day in the future at some point.

In the meantime, I'm learning all the ins and outs of lip-synching and character animation so my friend Sean and I can start doing something we've wanted to do since high school. An online cartoon. (Of quality, I'll be adding.)

So far I've run into the problem of synching sound to animation in Flash - it doesn't seem to stick where you put it! I'll figure it out if those Homestarrunner guys could.

That's the way it goes. Take things as a sign of God, and move in a new direction.

Oh, and I'm pretty sure I aced my precalc quiz today. Hip. Hip. Hooray.

To celebrate, here are some drawings I made with the scribbler (links to come.)

Back Up

I just got back from Best Buy, where I plunked down $130 for a 120GB External Hard Drive. I'm backing everything up as we speak. The great thing about it is that if my computer crashes, I can boot from the USB drive and still have all of my programs and everything. And that is awesome.

I'm still kind of bitter about some of the stuff I lost...artwork mainly.

Watch for some new stories in the week to come; I've been inundated with ideas for some strange reason.

This next week is going to be amazing, since last week wasn't.

And thanks to those who've been commenting lately, even if some put a little spam on there. Hey, what can I say? Spammers like me.

Lady Luck - What a BLEEP!

This post comes as a bad tiding...for me. I'm inundated with bad luck. On Saturday my computer crashed, rendering my drive useless, all data stored therein irretrievable. My first Monkey Rub comic - gone. And - all of my character designs for said comic. Gone. My comic for Hurricane Relief. GONE.

My writing - backed up thankfully, on a 128 MB USB key.

My 4000 songs. Gone.

All the pictures of my girlfriend, including a painting of her that I was half finished with. Gone.

GONE GONE GONE.

To top it all off, some @$$hole decided he wanted my bike. Broke the lock and took it.

MORE GONE.

Police reports, online listings, a new bus pass. How would you deal?

No, still no word from Orson Scott Card. I don't expect any, not anymore. Because my Luck sucks.

Betting someone will steal this computer pretty soon. And that I will lose my bus pass and student ID. And my keys. And I will get hit by a car and get wounded enough to be paralyzed from the neck down and yet still be able to live for fifty more years.

Ok, maybe I'm being optomistic.

The Curse of Todd Ryan

Every morning, Todd Ryan rose before the sun, supernaturally confident that the day would bring a respite from his failure. He walked to the kitchen, naked feet suction cups on tiled flooring. The smell of coffee slowly dominated, and Todd sat down at his table, feeling extremely well. In his mind, a patient, caring voice (his father’s?) spoke. Don’t start it, Todd. You’ll be disappointed. Best to leave it be. Todd ignored it. He dipped his brush, once, twice into freshly squeezed paint. Today was going to be the day it all changed. His arm would work, his mind would go blank, and he’d create the most beautiful thing anyone had ever seen. He thought: It’ll bring tears to their eyes. He sipped his coffee and let his arm loose. Wild tangles of color chased each other across the masonite, and hours passed. His mind was gone, basking somewhere in the cheerful knowledge that yes, he was doing it. Finally, Todd Ryan, darling of the art world, was back.

And then the knocking of his bladder forced him out of his chair and as he stood, in front of the yellowing bowl, a familiar sense of foreboding washed into him. He walked back into his studio, looking hopefully at his table, at the work he’d left there, and his stomach dropped. It had happened again.

Like every day, Todd Ryan closed his eyes and pretended he was killing himself. A knife this time, something sharp. Hot pain, then the world would turn away, dumping him into a lake of nothingness. It always seemed to calm him, this thought. Is that strange? I don’t know anymore. When he opened his eyes again it was still there, no longer the masterpiece that had been living in his subconscious. Smudges of color that had mixed to mud, the image now so ugly it forced him to look away as soon as his eyes had focused in. And, like every day, Todd sighed and covered it up. He walked toward the kitchen again, aimlessly, muttering about the injustice of it all. He had fooled himself again. No, it wouldn’t be today. If he took any stock from that cold lump in his stomach, it wouldn’t be any day soon.

The Animation Show and Graphic Novels!!

Yep. I'm going to see the Animation Show on Sunday at the Michigan theatre in Ann Arbor. I'll be staying with my sister for a couple of days, and I'll have to finish my hurricane webcomic by early Saturday, since I leave here around 2 or 3.

I finally got the graphic novels it seems I ordered a month ago. They were shipped to the wrong hall, and I'm lucky I have a friend working at that front desk or I would probably never have gotten them.

I walked up to the desk, and here's how it went.

Me: Um. Hi. I'm actually from Bailey, and something I ordered got delivered here by mistake.
Desk Lady: Really? What's your name.
Me: Adam Holwerda
(During this portion of time, she absently looks around, as if my package would step up and say, 'Here, me. I'm his.')
Desk Lady: Yeah...I don't think it's here. Anything we get here from other halls gets sent back immediately. So maybe you want to go there first. To check.
Me: I checked. For two days. It's not there.
Desk Lady: Yeah, well I still don't really know...
(Now she's walking around, pretending to search. I spy a box with an Amazon symbol on the side of it in the bottom of a filing cabinet)
Me: What about that one, there, at the bottom? That one's probably mine.
Desk Lady: I doubt it. Like I said, we send all...oh. Yeah, this one's yours.

And she picks it up and hands it to me. I don't sign anything. I don't show her my ID. I leave, with the books that are mine but could just as easily have been taken by any other kid who smelled ink and paper.

Sometimes I just wish I had the power to fire people.

Hurricane Katrina: Webcomic Telethon

I've just signed up to do a comic for the webcomic relief telethon for Katrina which will take place on September 13th and 14th. I know my buddy Ryan Estrada is signed up as well, and I'm happy to be able to do something to help those who feel they've been forgotten, forsaken by their countrymen and their government.

I watched a bit of tennis today, Agassi v. Berdych - Agassi won, but the whole time I was wondering how anyone could play tennis while so much of the country is in crisis. Then again, for so many people there's not a whole lot they can do other than to give monetary and material gifts. And the same could be said of this blog - how important is anything I say compared to what is going on in New Orleans and all around the Mississippi?

I urge everyone to help, in some way, no matter how small. If everyone just did one small thing to help, so many more people would be able to return to life in some semblance of what they were used to before the storm.

"The opposite of Love is not Hate, it is Apathy."