Damn, I wish I had something interesting and fun to write about. I started revising Volume 2 a few weeks ago. That's not to say that I didn't spend about a year-and-a-half revising the fucker. But this is the new round of revisions.
It was odd. This past weekend, I revised this one page, and it sang to me. It was probably some of the best work I'd done in my whole life. That might be an exaggeration, but it's not much of one. I was trying to re-draw the sucky drawlings and it was all looking like shit. Then I realized I was trying to do the drawerings the way I'd wanted them to look back in 2011, instead of drawling what my 2015 self would draw. Then I tried doing the latter and it rocked, man. It totally rocked.
Fuckity fuck. I'm waiting for the boom to get lowered on the recent mistake I made. Or I'm not sure if I used the right expression there. The something. The repercussions and whatnot. I might get yelled at, even. I didn't mean to make this mistake and now it's eating at me. Fuckity fuck.
I realized if I'm a shitty therapist, I'm gonna be a miser for the next few years and build up an Empire of Money, so I can move somewhere there's trees and do something else other than doing therapy. My dream job would be manufacturing cuz I wouldn't mind just putting parts of things together all day long, and then go home to do stuff I actually care about. Too bad there's no such things as jobs like that, and you either gotta be a professional, which I suck at, (seriously, I suck at all things professional, I'm discovering) or you gotta do some service type of job where mean customers yell at you and make you feel like shit.
This is a dumb time period to live in.