literally, and by literally, i mean figuratively.

alrighty, cats. i won't be posting here anymore. instead i shall be over at the kitty gritty full time.

the old stuff will still be here, in case i'm feeling particularly nostalgic/narcissistic and want to reread what i wrote before.

so yeap. that's it.

kbai.

the bee's knees.

martin freeman is the bomb diggity. he is the very embodiment of everything arthur dent.

feels good to get another illustration out. this one took me about four hours, and i got lazy by the time it came to drawing bilbo's feet. heh. ah well. i'll be illustrating vince noir/noel fielding next. him and his electric clothes and hairstyles. good excuse to watch the mighty boosh again. hurrah!

pretend empathy.

technology frustrates me. it brings out a side of me that sometimes surprises me with the degree of its aggression. i mean, sheesh, lisa. it's just a complex collection of various parts held together and powered by jolts of eletricity. it doesn't know anything more or anything less than what it's supposed to do.

but it frustrates me beyond reason when those various parts don't work, or are seemingly conspiring to not produce the result i expect of it, sniggering quietly amongst themselves at how funny i am when i'm angry. and i think what antagonises me so much is the fact that i can't directly speak to it  and yield any sort of productive result. i can't ask it what's wrong, i can't hit it to make it do what i want (although, at times this method does work, especially with bigger, clunkier machines), and i can't sit it down and patiently try and reach out to it and tell it what it's doing is wrong and it needs to go and think about it in the corner.

i'm not an aggressive person in general. i don't punch a wall when something goes wrong, and i'm very much against physically hurting someone to get my way (tickling included). but i realise i'm always trying to understand what's going on. i have this near-desperate need to comprehend the complexity of something so that i can tell myself what to think or feel. and my inability to solve something wrong via quick googling makes me unable to understand, and this ignorance upsets me.

i hate not understanding. my mind runs away with my incomprehension and uses it for evil, gleefully tipping garbage bins over and pressing all the elevator buttons before leaving the car, scribbling all sorts of bad thoughts on the walls and making me antsy.

and right now, i don't understand what's going on, and i'm alone with my thoughts so much of the time, it's driving me crazy. i can't get them out or say them out loud. and so i'm venting. i'm doing what so many people with blogs are doing and i'm expressing myself here in particular for no other reason than to see my thoughts in arial size 10 and try and slowly understand myself.

poom!

thanks, eman, and your magic camera. i knew i had a brother for a reason. in return, here is a picture of you looking cool using my $1 camera from tassie.

if you're going to live up to a stereotype, live up to them all.

the hugh jackman days are back as the sun beams down on us the way suns do, scaring away any chance of a cooling breeze with its hot glares. even at night, the sun seems to have found a way to leave its heat behind, packing little heat-minions into our houses who refuse to leave despite our groaning and helpless rolling about.

i don't know how the cats are doing it, handling this heat. on the one hand, they're covered entirely in fur, but on the other, they are practically naked, if naked simply meant 'not wearing clothes'. and here we humans are, wearing the least amount of clothing permissible and still moaning about how hard it is to cool down.

i think it is time i start thinking about serious things.

÷

ah. disappointment. we meet again. seem to be hanging around a lot, lately.

perhaps we should go out for coffee sometime?

-

two weeks, the seemingly arbitrary number at which the vet had arrived regarding my kitty grubbs' remaining time on earth. sigh.

perhaps life had given us the new kitten (which we've temporarily named billy until we come up with something better) because it was time to take grubby back. who knows? i don't. i'm just trying to rationalise because i feel sad.

who else am i going to look for when i wake up in the middle of the night and need to know if the weird sounds i heard were man-made or supernatural? okay, yeah, the three other people who live in the same house as me, but still. grubby is like my ghost alarm; if she stays put, curled up on my blanket, i'll know it's nothing to worry about, but if she bolts, i'll be right behind her.

ah. man. we miss the things we love for the way they make us feel, and i'll definitely miss how grubbs makes me feel safe at night.