I've returned safely from Austin, all in one piece, and smiling. I had a nice week. I've already described SXSW to you, so here is what happened the rest of the time:

1. Jeff took me up on the top of Mount Bonnell. It was lovely and breathtaking. Quite romantic, if you can catch your breath after all the steep stairs.
2. Jeff and I saw some awesome movies. One of which we got into for free, because he has so many acquaintances and connections.
3. I followed Jeff to a few of his classes. One of his classes is to watch old movies. I saw Citizen Kane again. That movie is SO awesome.
4. Jeff and I celebrated Purim with Eric, a Jewish fellow. He offered us wine and beer and the story of Esther. (Getting drunk is apparently a religious pastime if you're Jewish. I'm down. For the record, the Merlot wasn't bad.)
5. I got to know a few of Jeff's Austin friends a little better. Rayhan is the nicest person. He bought me food when Jeff was out. Jeff and I bought him chocolate to pay him back for being so cool. I also really liked Chris Rusch and his girlfriend Ashley. Everyone there seems really cool, honestly. They seem like people I'd like to know.

On the way home I listened to Steven King short stories. Its funny; I really enjoy King's longer works... but, frankly, I think his short stories stink. They're so cheesy and melodramatic! And the annoying synthesizer noises that the audiobook has added in only heighten my sense of amusement. Perhaps culture or age has jaded me enough to laugh at his brand of horror. Though, I'm sure if I saw his ideas in a visual form, I'd be much more disgusted.

Wow, while I was imagining all the blood and guts associated with horror, a bizarre thought occurred to me. Gross, but here it is: (Don't read if body parts and their functions bother you!)
"Human beings are walking bags of potential excrement."
Think about it... we eat and eat, and then we hold all that mashed up food inside of us. Unless we are truly starving, its with us everywhere, always! We carry it like one might carry a purse or wallet, and yet never give our contents a second thought.
And just think, we are full of all that blood too! You think of blood as contained in veins and circulating through tunnels in our bodies... but if you even barely scratch the skin, we still bleed, do we not? It's not so deeply buried... It's right there below the surface, beating against the tissues that confine it.
Eventually, all of this gore is excreted or recycled. Our body is this marvelous, ridiculous, utterly disgusting machine. Interesting how much we ignore ourselves. If we really meditated on our digestive system, I imagine we'd eat a lot less. Haha, a new diet! The latest fad! Another kind of mindfulness?

I muse on how much this idea can extend to psychological or spiritual matters as well? Are our brains equally full of waste? Are we carrying things inside our minds that are just waiting to spill forth? Mental purging and recycling? Do we ignore our mental contents too? Is ignoring aspects of yourself good or bad?

If you can stomach the conversation and the metaphor, what are your thoughts, friends?  ¶ 23:03

Hello friends. Today I am posting from Austin, TX, where I'm spending my Spring Break. Needless to say, there isn't a comic today, seeing as I spent the day rocking out at SXSW.

EDIT: Actually, I decided to put up a filler pic of Lian. (Since everyone misses his character, right? ^_^) I'll be taking that down when there's a new comic up.

South By Southwest is a huge media festival that happens here in Austin yearly. I went to a couple of free shows and saw some very interesting bands today. Isis was the best of those I saw, very meditative and Tool-like. My ears were absolutely assaulted by the noise though. In a good way.

Before I continue with anything else, let me first say that Jeff, Josh, and I found James Iha (of the Smashing Pumpkins and A Perfect Circle) lounging around in a crappy little bar on 6th street. We think the band playing was under his label. It was so surreal. Jeff got his autograph, and he seemed rather apathetic giving it . Regardless, IT WAS FREAKING JAMES IHA!! How random!
Even more ironic, Jeff met Jimmy Chamberlin the night before at a completely unrelated event. That means Jeff's touched exactly one half of the members of the Smashing Pumpkins. This is awesome, in case you weren't aware.

Now, let me tell you my thoughts from the day.

Here in Austin, there is a great deal more subculture than anywhere I've ever lived. You know how long it took the Bossier Mall to get a Hot Topic? Not many punk kids there. But at SXSW, it was the norm.
You get so close to other people when you're in the pit at a concert. Bodies moving in time to the music as it washes over you, full of distortion and harmony. I have a theory that you can experience a transcendent moment through nothing more than the saturation of the senses. The music is so very loud, and the rhythms so regular that you feel like the bass is creating a new heartbeat in your chest.
Then, as I stared up at the musicians on stage, I started thinking about how there were those two main branches of Greek worship. There were those who followed Apollo, and worshiped him in temples and with offerings. And then there were the Dionysians, the party animals, who found their god through wine, dancing, music, and all around insanity. There is a lot more depth to the ideas about Dionysus and Apollo, but I started wondering to myself, what if the Dionysians weren't really all that crazy? What if they were just the emo kids of their day? The punks and the goths who went out and really rocked? Counter-culture on a mythological scale. An amusing idea.

So many people want to judge the entire rock culture as something evil. But when I stand there immersed in it, I realize its not evil. Its full of humanity, and hope. Its about living in the moment. The skull painted on this particular stage struck me as kinda funny. All around me, there are all these people with their strange tattoos and piercings. (The ones that make you say "what were they thinking?!") But you know, they're not really so strange when you realize everybody there has one.
I remember when I got my belly ring last year, I went into this studio to behold a man with a huge septum piercing. It was like a long metal mustache! But when I approached him, he was very polite guy. Nothing but helpful.

The point of all this is: cutting your hair and wearing clothes from the Gap doesn't make you a good person. I am not a part of this subculture, but I don't fear it.  ¶ 21:36

I was thinking today about the fact that the simplest events can alter the course of a person's life. Fleeting coincidences can be fundamental to forming a person's very identity and interests.

For example: I was matched up as Miranda's roommate randomly. And while she had numerous effects on me, one of the smallest ways she shaped my life was by introducing me to different people. Some of them I saw often, some I spent very little time with... but once, I went in one guy's room and noticed an interesting background on his computer. He told me it was from a popular webcomic. I had never HEARD of webcomics before that moment. I just used the computer for games and goofing around.
I went to that comic's site, and was astounded. This whole new medium became apparent to me. I started reading lots of different storylines.
After a while, I began formulating an idea for a comic of my own. I'd always wanted to write a book... but here was this whole new artform before me... a new way to be creative... and it was free! I started playing with Photoshop and trying to make original pictures. I changed "Daemon's Story" into "Esuna's Story" (because I only know how to tell one story, no matter how the names change). Miranda was an art major, and I got better at a lot of things because of her. Not just by watching her work, but by taking time to do things with her. She'd tell me how to fix my retarded sketches.
Then, (April 4th 2004) I started a comic of my own. I'm actually coming up on Dream is Destiny's one year anniversary! And look how much I've improved; I'm always learning new things about digital art.

But the story doesn't stop there... I have had so much practice in Photoshop that I've gotten a job at a portrait studio working on photos. I'd never have been recommended for that job unless I hadn't goofed off so much making stuff for my own site. The guy I work next to is the most amazing artist (I feel like such a hack around him!) He and Mr. Chitty have showed me so much about professional retouching and altering. Also, they hook me up with their many resources like professional printing labs and their little trade secrets. What a blessing!

And still, the story continues:
Today I was relaxing and going through the archives of a new comic I've been meaning to get into. It was extremely entertaining. As I read along, one of the characters said "No comment" to the other. And then, quite randomly, I am awash in memories of elementary school.
See, when I was a kid, valentines were required. You had to bring them and give them to everyone on Valentine's Day. (Not just your friends. The whole class.). I tried to write nice things to people, but there were six or seven kids I really hated in this one class. I couldn't think of a single nice thing to say, so on their cards I just wrote the words "No comment."
How funny! I could have just left them blank, but instead I inadvertently insulted them. I laughed at the memory, and also at the fact that I was suddenly reminded of it by a the work of a stranger who lives a thousand miles away.

And it was this memory that inspired me to write this post.

My job and my childhood dreams... my conincidences... my memories... my hobbies and my laughter: everything is connected in strange and surprising ways. I'm not saying that I would never have written my story or learned to draw or read comics if I hadn't gone to UH... but when I look back over the last few years I see this definite chain of events that has shaped how I spend my time these days. And if the smallest of things can be so formative... I wonder how my life would be different if I'd made different choices? Taken different classes? Woken up an hour earlier this morning?

Life can be so delightful and mysterious! It's hard to imagine, but I have actually chosen this life one second at a time. And I guess I'm lucky that I can say that I like who I am, I like what I'm becoming, and I am at peace with the world.

No one has everything, but we all have something. And what I have is soft and weightless... like when you are holding your breath underwater... staring up at the sunlight through the waves. You push off the bottom of the pool, and the very tips of your fingers reach through to the air.

The air is warm.  ¶ 21:13

Hello. My name is Heather and I make huge comics.
I'm seriously sorry if you're on dialup. This comic is about 400K and 3000 pixels long. I couldn't help it, I didn't want to cut any of the purple grass. I LORVES THE PURPLE.

(Actually my favorite color isn't really pure purple. Its closer to indigo. A tertiary shade. <_<)

In other news, STAMP!


I carved it from soft rubber using the finest of tools. I stamped the image on a piece of wood and glued it to the top of the rubber, so that top flower image is actually how the stamp looks. Been wanted to do this for a while. Now, if I so desire, I can walk up to people and stamp them. Then they'll be MINE. Or at the very least, I can sign things with some flair. It's my own personal seal!

I spent the weekend with Rachel and Brian. Their puppy is so incredibly cute and tiny. He's got funny eyes and a funny run, but the most adorable little bark and a very playful heart. Impossible not to love! Mrs. Turek refers to little Sinatra as her "grandpuppy". I wonder how long it will before my kind friends actually look into creating new people? Probably a long while. The puppy is a handful as is.

Next week I'm going to Austin. It will be my spring break, so I'm going to spend it with Jeff. I plan to stop in at UH to see Miranda on my way down there. If for some reason another one of you Houston peoples want to see me, let me know before Wednesday and I'll try to fit you in too (no promises though).  ¶ 20:34

Yes I know I said it would be up Saturday but what I meant was "Saturday not in the morning more like afternoon or possibly Sunday".

Check back later. Shoo!  ¶ 00:54

There will be a comic up on Saturday. I like that day. I think I'll stick with it from now on. In the meantime, you can check out a guest comic I did for another writer listed on clanBOB. Its always good to help out your community, you know?

This week I've been thinking about what it means to be crazy. And I was wondering how much "craziness" is just due to misunderstandings. Example: our one-armed neighbor. Is he crazy really crazy? Or does he just ACT that way?
The story:
You already know I live in a forest. There are leaves everywhere, but not many more than the average yard. We have a few piles of pine needles by the side of the road. No big deal. Only problem is, we live across the street from one of those people who are OCD about keeping their yard perfect. The man picks up individual needles and walks a leafblower down the road just to be SURE everything is perfect. I can tell he is really bothered by the way our yard looks. He often eyes our pine needles with contempt. If I decide to sweep off the driveway, he comes over to tell me how glad he is that I'm doing it...
...wait... how does he start that leaf-blower with his one arm...?
Anyway. My father tells me that he came home the other night to find his yard on fire. And guess who is standing there tending the blaze? Crazy one-arm man! He and my dad have a little talk at this point, but then dad just harrumphs, and leaves him to it. The damage is already done. Now there is a huge hole in the yard. Black, smoldering, and far less sightly than the original piles. What was the man thinking? That he was being a good neighbor? Or did the sight of those piles bother him so much that he HAD to do something about them?
I choose to believe in the latter, because I think it makes the story funnier. I envision him dancing around the fire and chanting, his one hand held high in the air. But that doesn't mean he's necessarily nuts.

I think I'll quit here and write more Saturday. I'm in town Rachel. Give me a call.  ¶ 22:30

I can't help it, you have to see my forum avatar. I just like it soooo much:



Shadows! Lightnings!  ¶ 23:52

Sometime later today a comic and a longer post. Nearly done.
Though, today is the auspicious return of Life of Riley. Do they heavens rejoice? They do. Obviously, I am distracted. Bye.

*spends the whole day elsewhere*

Okay, so I'm back now. Today's comic will wow you with the character's uncanny ability to change ethnicities in each frame. Enjoy, friends.

Guess what my mother got in the mail as a late birthday present? An iPod Shuffle. Jealousy! I am always feeling the need for an mp3 player, and though this one has no screen, I still admire it greatly. Luckily, she forgets to take it to work sometimes. Then its just me and the pod, baby, and we're all about the smooth tunes. Desert-Arabian chill is my recent fave for work, since I can never do anything productive if what I'm listening to has words. Plus, I feel like belly-dancing. Maybe its time to practice again?

I've realized that I have finally succeeded in becoming something I have always striven to be: I am a person who keeps journals. When I was in high school, I kept buying blank books, writing a few pages (or fifty) and then starting a new one. I have tons and tons of half-finished books on my shelf. I think this stems from the fact that I used to be an insane perfectionist. I felt like I was acting too stupid in a book I'd get a fresh book, and start over.
These days, I don't care what goes in the book. (Or perhaps I just don't have as much drama in my life to "mess it up" ^_^) My purse now contains a fat blue tome in it. I carry it everywhere, and write absolutely everything in it. Phone numbers. Class notes when I run out of paper. Dreams, thoughts, and silliness. And miraculously, despite the large amount of stupidity in it, I don't feel any need to start over.
I don't know why I want to keep journals so badly. Part of it is probably vanity; I imagine a descendant or stranger happening on it in the attic 100 years from now and marveling at my thoughts and early-century turns of phrase. Another reason is my vacant memory. These books are one of my few tangible doors into the past. And blogs are the journals of the future, you know? The internet is so amazing in all its interconnections and resulting revolutions! Perhaps one day our children's children will chat in virtual space, sitting on polygon couches and playing tic-tac-toe on jpeg-papered walls?

But I'm wandering away from my point.

What I really want to talk more about is my lately-lost obsessive behavior. I think it might amuse you. See, I don't think anyone really realized how nuts I was as a kid except for Lara. For example, I wouldn't let her play with lots of her toys because she'd "mess them up". I would leave my coloring books untouched because I knew I couldn't color in the lines perfectly. I would hoard small objects like stickers and crayons... things that would obviously be fun to play with... but I could never bring myself to play with them. Because then they would be used up. I would keep sheets of white paper in good faith that I'd use them for something artistic... but no art ever came forth from me. I still have several temporary tattoos that I've never put on. I had a hard time letting things go once.
I think that my leaving this silliness behind me is partially because of age. And also, I'm beginning to suspect that part of my freedom has come from all my artistic interests in the last 3 years. When you do something artistic, you have to take a risk. You have to put something of yourself into your work, and you have to accept the possibility that your time and your materials might all go to waste. If you never risk anything in art, your piece will never reach its full potential. I think this applies to most other art forms as well, not just the visual.

What am I saying? That art, in whatever form, is an unburdening of the soul. Playing music, writing, drawing. Anything! Dancing in an empty elevator between floors! Religion, in its way, since so much of that is an art as well. Having a way to express what I feel causes me to feel even better than ever. Lighthearted! And that lightness inspires me and extends over into in the greater aspects of my life, leaving me cheerful. And I'm not afraid of the artist's trade anymore. And I'm not afraid to wax philosophic on it either. ^_^

I hope you find your lightness as well. I hope you find it over and over again.  ¶ 00:32