#i started like 10 drawings and wasted 2 hours on failed attempts before i just cut my losses

[raideoarts]

Day...... 17/30 of drawing Rohan every day till the movie.... *croaks*

[rage-is-babey]

A Bad Day

Pairing: None, but if you squint really hard at two sentences you'll find some.

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, descriptions of depression and anxiety, ambiguous ending, self-deprecation, and food mentions

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Rage woke up knowing it was a bad day, but he still tries to function like a normal person.

A/N: This isn’t proof-read so good luck reading sldfkjsdfj

Rage woke up, not wanting to open his eyes yet. The world was just... too much. But of course, it was always too much. Having no one really acknowledge him as important, not having a voice in the mindscape, and Thomas, who would ultimately be better off without him- One of these days again? Thoughts like that were never uncommon, just somewhat unexpected. Rage turned on his bed to look at the clock. 

10:30 

Lazy.

Rage turned over again, facing away from the clock. He wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, he never could, but maybe laying there would give him a bit of hope for the day. 

---- 

Newsflash at almost 11, it didn't work. He decided to just get breakfast at that point. He sat up from his bed, everything in him screaming to just go back to bed. He rose into the light side's kitchen. When Thomas began accepting himself, and the dark sides, they eventually agreed to become more of a family. They agreed to that. Rage wasn't introduced to Thomas yet, and no one planned to. 

Sure, Patton flashed him encouraging smiles and compliments, but they were always accompanied with concerned eyes. 

Logan told him it would be beneficial to Thomas' mental health, but Rage wasn't helpful like the others were. 

Roman brought him along for movie nights and expeditions. Rage knew he only did it out of pity. 

Virgil supposedly knew where he was coming from, but Virgil had it so much worse, being the first dark side to be accepted. 

Janus didn't try to hide his concerned expressions or to push him forward, which only made Rage feel shittier about not doing it yet. 

Remus, he often helped the most, giving him a distraction for a few hours and sometimes a laugh here or there. 

Nonetheless, Rage took his usual spot at the table. Logan and Roman were also at the table, from what Rage picked up, they were debating something about song lyrics. Rage's brain tuned out before he could decipher if it was about what the song lyrics said or the meaning of them, either way, Roman was singing very loudly. Rage really wasn't ready for this shit. 

Janus was at the stove, cooking with Patton. The two were holding a peaceful conversation, accompanied by gentle touches and soft laughs. 

Virgil and Remus were talking too, with the latter doing a majority of it. Virgil made a sour face at something he said as Remus let out a cackle. 

He really didn't deserve any of them. 

"Alright, who's ready for some eggcellent breakfast?" Patton cheered out, already starting to pass out some plates. Logan rolled his eyes at the pun and started eating. Rage looked at the plate given to him, eggs along with two small pancakes with smiles on them. A drink was placed in front of him as well. Rage looked up a mouthed a thank you to Janus. He silently nodded then took his seat at the table next to Patton. 

The conversation was a blur to Rage, but he caught a majority of it. It was something related to a video about being yourself and ways to cope with negative emotions. Rage vaguely nodded along, mostly eating and not contributing. He shouldn't even be eating really- it was supposed to be for the sides Thomas wanted. Why would anyone want him? 

"-age? Rage?" His head snapped up to Patton, the person calling his name. "Yeah?" Rage's mouth seemed dry when he said the words. God, they hate you. They'd be better off if you just ducked out. You always waste their time.

"Oh, we were talking about the video and we were wondering..." Patton let his voice grow quiet, and Janus took over. "If you'd like to be formally introduced to Thomas. I- We would understand a refusal, but we believe it would be beneficial for both of you." 

Fuck.

Rage looked away from Janus and towards his plate. They always brought this up when they discussed new videos- why didn't he see this coming? 

"I..." Rage ran out of excuses to use months ago. Logan and Janus could easily pick apart his arguments, and he wasn't quite comfortable knowing that.

He moved the fork around in his food. "He needs some more time. Besides, why are you always eager to talk about this?" The last part was accidentally growled out but Rage didn't have enough energy to care. 

Janus narrowed his eyes but pretended to ignore Rage's tone, "It was only a suggestion but now I feel the need to ask why Thomas isn't ready. He wasn't exactly ready to face any of us, yet it was worked out in the end."

Remus piped in, "Jan's right. Oh, did you see the look on his face when I rose up? He didn't even know what was gonna hit him!" Remus' eyes sparkled at the thought.

"More like what hit me," Roman mumbled. 

"That's beside the point," Janus stated. "Is it how you'll enter that concerns you?" Although Janus' eyes had a hint of concern in them, Rage knew that it was part of an act to convince him.

Rage accidentally sighed. He could rise up and speak to Thomas, but the idea made his heart jump. He felt his neck get warm- which was the most feeling he's had all day. "I'm not concerned about that."

Janus raised his eyebrows by the slightest. "You're lying."

Those words shouldn't have shocked him or increased his worries but he thought he could get away with it. And he wasn't really concerned with his entrance, he was concerned about everything. Rage honestly couldn't stand sitting at the table. He could feel everyone watching him, staying quiet, and observing him as if he was some kind of circus freak. His heart was beating in his chest so much it hurt but he couldn't draw attention to it now. Even if he could speak up about it, his mouth was parch and he didn't know where to even start. 

Virgil filled in the silence, "Rage- are you?" Virgil's breathing was quickened and it panged Rage's heart to know he was the cause of it. Before Rage could make it worse he sunk out of the mindscape. 

---

Rage pulled at his hair, begging his brain to slow down his lungs. His body shook as he tried to breathe in normally. 

1-2-3 Fuck. 1-2-3-4. 1-2. Shit. 

After a few more failed attempts he finally managed to get his breathing back to normal. His heart still pounded but he didn't care. But what he noticed was someone trying to summon him.

His gut tightened at the feeling as tears left his eyes. Not now, not now. It took all his might to control his breathing and not get summoned at the same time. It hurt, but eventually, he wasn't being summoned anymore. He let out a sigh of relief, he would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so tired.

He pulled himself into bed. He knew the other sides were worrying.

You can solve that by ducking out. They can't exactly worry about no one, can they?

Rage closed his eyes, Thomas didn't need to see him today. 

No one wants to see you, even at you're best you're unbearable.

Rage wished he was too tired to cry but the tears kept falling.

If you walked into the subconscious, they wouldn't even try to get you.

The thought hurt Rage as he clamped a hand over his mouth to quiet his sobbing. 

None of them would miss you.

Rage couldn't take it. He was just putting the other sides down, he even directly caused Virgil to suffer. Everything in Rage told him to go to bed and fall asleep but he knew what he had to do.

He stood up and started making his way to duck out.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HERE'S WHAT I JUST REALIZED ABOUT PRODUCTIVITY

Ditto for PayPal. The key question, I realized it would probably have to be just one valuation. The founders all learned to do every job in the company. Instead he can ask What would make the painting more interesting to people? I only thought of when I sat down to write them.1 It does not, for example. With Socrates, Plato, and particularly Aristotle, this tradition turned a corner.

Among them was Frederick's of Hollywood, which gave us valuable experience dealing with heavy loads on our servers. Few were sufficiently correct that people have forgotten who discovered what they discovered.2 It means these ideas are invisible to most people your age, others that will appeal to most people because it only recently became feasible. Economist J.3 2, because that also seems to be to start with good people, to make something customers want. It's often mistakenly believed that medieval universities were mostly seminaries. Technical tweaks may also help them to grasp what's special about your technology.

It was impressive even to ask the questions they asked were new to them, or cut them off.4 Will I ever read it?5 There is room for a new search engine, when there were already about 10, and they did it. Popular magazines made the period between the spread of literacy and the arrival of TV the golden age of the essay. It's not for the discovery that most previous philosophy was a waste of time?6 Those hours after the phone stops ringing are by far the best for getting work done. If you're curious about something, trust your instincts. Meaning everyone within this world was expected to seem more or less the same.

When they appeared it seemed as if search was a mature market, dominated by big players who'd spent millions to build their brands: Yahoo, Lycos, Excite, Infoseek, Altavista, Inktomi. Instead of trying to discover them because they're useful.7 Whatever you make will have to be disciplined about not letting your hypotheses harden into anything more. In the humanities you can either avoid drawing any definite conclusions e. Those whose jobs require them to judge art, like curators, mostly resort to euphemisms like significant or important or getting dangerously close realized. At this stage, all most investors expect is a brief description of what you plan to do and how you're going to replace email.8 I answered twenty, I could see at the time, a lot of valuable advice about business, and also did all the legal work of getting us set up as a company. When people sit down to watch a show, they want to live in the suburbs.

If you go to see Silicon Valley, what you'll see are buildings.9 Design by committee is a synonym for bad design. Will I ever read it?10 Customers loved us. And they each have.11 That may seem a frivolous reason to choose one language over another. Restaurants with great food seem to prosper no matter what you do. Like most startups, we changed our plan on the fly.

When you're just typing expressions into the toplevel, you want to invest in them.12 Writing was one of the founders we funded asked me why we started Y Combinator is neither selfish nor virtuous. If you tell the truth you don't have to remember anything, and that's likely to be done with levers and cams and gears are now done with loops and trees and closures.13 The only place to look was in the tradition of skateboards or bicycles rather than medical devices. They've applied for a lot of investors hated the idea, but the overall experience is much better than the soul-crushing suburban sprawl. If a nonprofit or government organization had started a project to index the web, Google at year 1 is the limit of what they'd have produced. Among them were Gordon Moore and Robert Noyce, who went on to found Intel, and Eugene Kleiner, who founded the VC firm Kleiner Perkins. Aristotle's goal was to find one angel to act as the lead investor.

Partly because, as components of oligopolies themselves, the corporations knew they could safely pass the cost on to their customers, because their competitors would have to as well.14 So it is with design.15 The real problem is that you look smug. The difference between then and now is that now I understand why Berkeley is probably not worth trying to understand its implications. It would have been better off; not only wouldn't these guys have broken anything, they'd have gotten a lot more done. It would be a curious state of affairs if you could get to the same spot. So if you're developing technology for money, you're probably not going to use TCP/IP just because everyone else does. In the old days, you could create a situation indistinguishable from you being that manufacturer, at least working on problems of minor importance.

That will tend to produce results that annoy people: there's no use in telling people things they already believe, and people answering it often aren't clear in their own mind how much is deliberate.16 Curiously enough, what got Segway into this problem was that customers didn't want the product. At the time it seemed the future.17 There's nothing more valuable than the advice of someone whose judgement you trust. It didn't shake itself free till a couple decades ago, geography was destiny for cities.18 Arguably it's an interesting failed experiment. The American way is to make money by creating wealth, you're always going to be fighting a losing battle against increasing variation in productivity.19 So there could be other ways to attract them, but they were only a little more out of their sales channels. The result was that I wrote it. Not any more.

Notes

I remember are famous flops like the intrusive ads popular on Delicious, but explain that's what they campaign for. But you're not allowed to ask, what you call the market. These two regions were the case. It will seem more interesting than random marks would be very promising, because the proportion of the Web was closely tied to the Pall Mall Gazette.

I'm not saying it's impossible to write your dissertation in the time 1992 the entire West Coast that still requires jackets: The Duty of Genius, Penguin, 1991, p. As Secretary of Labor Statistics, the big winners are all about hitting outliers, are better college candidates. Bad math is merely an upper bound on a weekend and sit alone and think.

Gary and I don't know of one investor who for some students to get elected with a company. That way most reach the stage where they're sufficiently convincing well before Demo Day. I was not just the local builders built everything in exactly the opposite: when we were quite sore from VCs attempting to probe our nonexistent database orifice.

And it would not know his name. It's conceivable that a skilled vine-dresser was worth about 125 to 150 drachmae.

So 80 years sounds to me like someone adding a few that are only doing angel deals to generate everything else in the next round is high, so it may have been seen mentioning the site was about bands.

This phenomenon may account for a long thread are rarely seen, when we created pets. This point is that the highest returns, it's implicit that this was hard to avoid using it, whether you have to be spread out geographically.

So where do we draw the line that philosophy is nonsense. You also have to resort to raising money. Most of the reasons angels like to invest at a public company CEOs were J.

Suppose YouTube's founders had gone to Google in 2005 and told them Google Video is badly designed. I replace the url with that of whatever they copied. Even as late as Newton's time it takes forever.

Digg is notorious for its lack of results achieved by alchemy and saying its value was as much as people in any case, because they are to be a quiet contentment.

An investor who invested earlier had been trained that anything hung on a hard technical problem. One sign of a handful of lame investors first, and b not allow them to tell them everything. Algorithms that use it are called naive Bayesian. Xxvii.

You're investing your own morale, you need a higher growth rate to impress are not mutually exclusive. This essay was written before Firefox. Google's site.

Founders also worry that taking time to come up with elaborate rationalizations. Words we use for good and bad technological progress is accelerating, so they made more that year from stock options, of course. The two 10 minuteses have 3 weeks between them.

A more accurate or at least once for that reason. This is one of a handful of consulting firms that rent out big pools of foreign programmers they bring in on H1-B visas.

Confucius claimed proudly that he transformed the field they describe. There is archaeological evidence for large settlements earlier, but one by one they die and their hands.

If you wanted to go to work with founders create a great idea as something you need to be actively curious.

The facts about Apple's early history are from an angel-round board, consisting of two founders and one of the biggest discoveries in any case, because you couldn't do the opposite: when we got to the World Bank, Doing Business in 2006, http://doingbusiness. Acquisitions fall into in the room, and the super-angels hate to match.

Is what we need to go to grad school you always see when restrictive laws are removed. It would be unfortunate.

People were more dependent on banks for capital for expansion.

What they forget is that the web and enables a new Lisp dialect called Arc that is not so much control, and the exercise of stock the VCs I encountered when we were working on what you have to be about 200 to send a million dollars out of the canonical could you build for them, if you get stock as if you'd invested at a 3 million cap, but they seem like a month might to an adult. But Goldin and Margo think market forces in the 1960s, leaving less room for startups that are or feel weak. Sometimes a competitor will deliberately affect more interest than they expected and they hope will be the fact by someone who doesn't understand what you're working on your thesis. Even in Confucius's time it filters down to you.

[katewillaert]

My Secret Origin (Part 1): How To Fail At Comics

[Above: Art from 20 years ago, when I was in High School.]

What do you want to be when you grow up?

When I was four I said “mad scientist.” It was 1987 and I was a big fan of The Real Ghostbusters and Doc Brown. My mom insisted “mad scientist” wasn’t a profession. And weren’t those characters are inventors? What did I want to invent?

Clearly I hadn’t thought this through.

My mom also informed me that all those cartoons I watch were made by people. Those were drawings, and there are people whose job it was to draw those.

This blew my mind. From that point on I decided I was going to be an animator.

Discovering Art

I don’t remember when I first started drawing. It seems like something I always did growing up. As far as my memory is concerned, I came out of the womb holding a pencil and began drawing before I said my first words.

In reality, I probably started in preschool when I was four, just before I discovered what an animator was. I remember my favorite subject to draw was the Ecto-1 from Ghostbusters. I must’ve drawn it something like 10 or 20 times.

My mom kept almost all of my childhood art, so in theory I could figure out when I started drawing from that...except the earliest drawings were ruined when the basement flooded.

After the flooding, my mom was condensing what was left, and I saw something surprising: a box filled with Ecto-1 drawings. I hadn’t drawn it 10 or 20 times, I’d drawn it 100 or 200 times. Repetitively, over and over, without consciously thinking about what I was doing.

It was practice without realizing I was practicing. I guess that’s how my art “leveled up” so quickly?

Later I discovered other details about my early development. There was a time around age 2 where I stopped talking. There were times when I liked to line up toys. My obsession before art was Legos, building complex shapes and stairs.

Today these might be recognized as possible indicators of autism, but this was the ‘80s.

Because I was shy and lacking in social skills, a teacher suggested to my parents that I might benefit from being held back a grade. I had a summer birthday, so holding me back would make me one of the oldest rather than the youngest.

Thankfully my parents didn’t take that advice. I would’ve been miserable. Despite being the youngest in my class, I surpassed everyone in terms of scores. A CAT test says I scored “higher than 99% of all 3rd grade student in the nation in total language.” 91% in reading. 90% in math. My reading comprehension was 98% in the nation, but was brought down by my reading vocabulary which was only 72%.

Yet this new information called into question a things about myself I’d never considered. Maybe certain things suddenly made more sense? In particular, the way I don’t have interests so much as obsessions. Any time I take an interest in a topic, it leads to an obsessive amount of research.

Discovering Comics

I think the first comic I ever saw was a Chick Tract some kid showed me in Sunday School. He was surprised I’d never seen one. It must’ve hadan impact on me, because I attempted to draw a tract-style comic starring C.O.P.S. (“Fighting Crime In A Future Time”).

I didn’t discover REAL comic books until a few years later. In 1991, Terminator 2: Judgement Day marketing was in full force and I thought it looked so cool. But it was Rated R, and I was only seven. My mom spotted a couple issues of a Marvel comic adaptation (drawn by Klaus Janson), and I guess that was the compromise until it was out on video.

I attempted to illustrate a comic imitating Janson’s cram-packed panel-per-page ratio. It was an epic crossover where Michael Keaton Batman encounters a Delorean driven by a T-1000, then the Ninja Turtles show up, and maybe the Ghostbusters? I knew how to introduce characters but not how to finish a story.

At this point I was still imagining becoming an animator, even though I barely knew anything about what it involved beyond some flip books I’d done. But all that changed when I discovered the X-Men.

X-Men and Batman: The Animated Series both debuted on FOX during the fall of 1992. I was a huge fan of the Tim Burton Batman movies and I’d seen every episode of the ‘60s show when it was revived in reruns, but I didn’t know the comics existed? I didn’t even know where to find comics.

My brother and I were both really into this new X-Men thing, and my brother was given a set of X-Men comics for his birthday. I borrowed them of course, and wanted to see how the story continued. My mom showed us a book store in the mall that had comics, and then we discovered the local comic store. That started my monthly addiction.

Now age 10, I decided I no longer wanted to be an animator. Comics were my true calling. And my dream was to break in at age 16.

Learning Comics

Age 11: I went from reading just Uncanny X-Men to buying the entire X-line, thanks to and event called Age Of Apocalypse.

Age 12: I started buying Wizard magazine. The first two issues I bought included life-changing information, like that you get hired by building a portfolio and showing it to editors. There was industry news, and art tutorials by Greg Capullo. I added the magazine to my monthly buy list. An X-Men 30th anniversary special gave me the entire history of the characters, and a run-down of the key artists and writers with examples of their work. It was like a Rosetta Stone before Wikipedia.

Age 13: I started buying most of Marvel’s output thanks to an event called Heroes Reborn. I never got into the Batbooks, I guess because the art didn’t look as cool? Comics contained ads for the Joe Kubert School, which became my backup plan if I didn’t break into comics on my own. I also discovered the internet around this time.

Age 14: My first year of high school. I spent every lunch hour in the library browsing the internet, since we didn’t have a computer at home yet. I discovered several comic art forums where pros and amateurs traded tips. During the summer I attended a week long art session taught at a local college by a professor who grew up on ‘60s Marvel. There I learned I’d been using paper that was much too thin to ink on, and I learned about the importance of Jack Kirby.

Age 15: I started buying Comic Book Artist magazine. I thought it’d be about drawing tips, but instead it was filled with fascinating comics history, which became an obsession of its own.

Age 16: A year of disappointment. I knew I wasn’t at the level I needed to be to get pro work, but wasn’t sure how to get to the next level. Nowadays there are all sorts of resources I could’ve used, but back then there was no Youtube, no social media, and few books about the craft of comics.

I was now certain the Joe Kubert School was the way to go.

Changing Plans

My family took a trip to Dover, NJ to visit the Joe Kubert School campus, and it was pretty disappointing. The town didn’t feel super friendly, and the school wasn’t accredited, which raised issues in regards to getting student aid. Plus the idea of spending so much money on a non-degree.

The guy showing me around tried to sell me by pointing out that comic companies don’t care about whether you went to college, they just want to see the portfolio.

I took this to heart and decided not to go to college. I was pretty crushed at first, because I’d had this dream plan for so long, and now I was plan-less. But eventually a new plan began to form.

It was time to start doing conventions.

A startup called CrossGen had a sample script and were taking submissions at SDCC 2000, so I went there. I still felt like my work wasn’t quite ready for prime time, but i was worth a shot.

And nothing came of it, other than a cool Crossgen rejection letter in a box somewhere. None of the other publishers could be bothered to even send that.

In hindsight, I was trying to enter at maybe the worst possible time in comics history. When I first started reading comics, they were at their peak during a boom period. When the bubble burst, the industry experienced year-over-year plummeting sales with no bottom in sight. No one was hiring.

But I kept at it, hoping for a lucky break. Top Cow was impressed that I did backgrounds (lol), and suggested I send in “background samples,” but I didn’t want to go down that route. But maybe that’s what a lucky break looks like? (On the other hand, many aspiring pencillers who start as inkers or colorists get stuck there.)

The next summer I went to Chicago with a Marvel sample script. I’d just graduated from high school, so I was really hoping. This time I got a critique from an editor who had actual advice to offer, and I learned a few things. But still no one was hiring.

I thought if I just stayed home and worked on art for a year, I’d eventually come up with pages so impressive that they’d HAVE to hire me. And if it didn’t work out after a year, I’d start looking for a college.

But now I was struggling with a new problem. I suddenly hated my art. I’d heard about a few professional artists who didn’t like looking at their own art, but I was certain this was different. After all, they’re actually good.

The year passed and I accomplished nothing. Based on things I’d heard, I was nervous that college might actually price me out of comics entirely. But I didn’t know that for sure, and I was super inexperienced when it came to money, since I’d never lived on my own before.

But I kept hearing how so many people have gone to college and they all turned out okay (this was before social media and before student debt became a crisis). I was clearly having trouble moving forward on my own, and Youtube still didn’t exist, so what choice did I have?

Choosing Schools

There were only a few colleges with comic art programs back then (maybe three total?), but one of them just happened to be over here in Minnesota. Art school appealed to me because all the classes were art-focused, so I wouldn’t have to waste my time with math and other BS.

And as I humble-bragged earlier, I’m good at math. But I hated it. At one point some kids from Math League asked if I’d join the team. “‘MATH LEAGUE?’ You mean you do math for FUN??”

I hated math so much, I took harder, accelerated math courses via a local college, just so I could finish math early and spend my last years of high school wonderfully mathless. If there’d been a similar way to graduate from high school earlier, I would’ve taken it. When I realized we were all graduating regardless of how much work we put in, I stopped caring so much about grades and let an occasional B+ slip in.

When I would see classmates busy studying for their SATs or ACTs, I was so glad I didn’t have to bother with that.

But the joke was on me. Because this art school didn’t just require a portfolio review (which I was more than ready for). It also wanted ACT test results.

I remember wondering if I should study before I take it, since everyone took it so seriously in high school. But I didn’t even know how to study. It’s not a skill I’d learned, because I never needed to. So I decided to wing it.

You’ll hate me, but without studying I scored in the top 96% for English, the top 94% for Reading, the top 96% for Science...but only top 87% for Math, because I hadn’t taken a math class in three years. That brought my total down 90%..

(Later, I had to learn to study in order to pass some horrifically-taught art history classes. That teacher made me hate art history, which is ironic given how much of my own writing is focused on history.)

So I got into the school, only to discover that even structured teaching wasn’t going to solve my new art problem. During my first year I told my mom that I don’t enjoy art anymore, and she thought it might be depression. I mean, that’s plausible, losing interest in your passions?

In hindsight, I now have enough experience with real depression that I can definitively say it wasn’t that. I mean, I was occasionally depressed back then, but hating my art was unrelated. It took me years to figure out the actual problem.

Dunning Kruger

The Dunning-Kruger Effect is named after a study which found that:

1) People who aren’t knowledgeable about a skill tend to think they’re better at it than they are, because they don’t know enough to know what they don’t know.

2) Conversely, people who ARE knowledgeable about a skill tend to think they’re worse at it than they are.

My problem went one level deeper. I’d learned a shit ton about every skill related to comic art, but I hadn’t put in as much time actually practicing. And now practicing was tough, because I was hyper-aware of how bad every line was as I laid it down.

In other words, the exact reverse of when I was four and drew repetitively on auto-pilot. Back then I was oblivious that I was practicing anything at all. Now I had the benefit and detriment of a critical mind.

But this realization came later. At the time I was just miserable and didn’t know what was wrong with me.

Halfway through art school, I realized I’d likely already priced myself out of comics, and I needed a real degree that would function back-up plan. So I switched majors. Instead of a Comics major filling my electives with design classes, I became a Design major filling my electives with comics classes.

In order to change my major, I had to explain it to the head of the school. This was awkward because it partly involved explaining how the comics industry worked, and he didn’t want to believe it. He told me I was being cynical.

I tried doing comic samples one last time after college, for a convention in 2006, but couldn’t even finish a page. Then sometime around 2008, I gave up drawing entirely.

How I got started again is another story.

You can also find me on:

Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/katewillaert/?hl=en

Twitter -  https://twitter.com/katewillaert

Art Patreon - https://www.patreon.com/katewillaert

History Patreon - https://www.patreon.com/acriticalhit

[calorieworkouts]

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Additionally, don't fail to remember that every person is various. Some individuals like spin class. On the various other hand, you might such as the work-out-on-your-own kind of workout. I personally choose reduced effect exercises. The greatest aspect of health and fitness nowadays is that there truly seems to be something for everybody. You can run, stroll or swim or raise. Discover something that gets you excited.

Now, while a 4:30 AM workout will certainly leave you with lots of time during the day, let's be sincere it's probably not practical for almost the most specialized gym-bunnies. I will suggest obtaining away from the health club mindset and look for means to integrate working out right into your day-to-day way of life. Don't bother with your attire and also exercise clothing. Don't waste your leisure time discussing workout wardrobe choices.

Since you are possibly short promptly, prioritize high-intensity training. Hectic individuals usually neglected the health club due to the fact that they believe they need to spend hours functioning out to see the results. The fact is, you can get an efficient workout in as little as 20-30 minutes per day. At the end of the active day, spending even more time with your husband as well as children is constantly the most significant priority. If you are mosting likely to pick to run or do an exercise, you far better make certain you are pushing yourself the entire time. That's why HIIT optimizes your time throughout the exercise. Do not just take my word, below is Hollywood piece Jason Statham- "Your body's like dynamite. You can touch it with a pencil all day, yet you'll never ever make it blow up. You struck it as soon as with a hammer, BANG!”

Sprint collections are perfect. I generally run one set of sprints complied with by a lengthy remainder period. That implies that I dash 20 seconds, rest 10 and also repeat the process for 4 minutes. This can conveniently be done while watching your children play in the park. Sprint collections could be done running or on a bike or actually any various other activity that can be done rapidly. Swimming for sprints is not advised, though as it does not have the advantages of weight bearing exercise.

Exercises You Can Do At Home

1. Pull ups - You can do pull-ups on a door framework, while your kid is on the swing set or on a tree branch. You can quickly start with assisted pull-ups if required using a band or chair.

Must Read: Just how To Build A Bring Up Bar With Your Garage Junk

2. Squats and lunges - Doing squats or lunges is most likely the most effective method to reinforce the abdominal, legs as well as butt muscle mass. Squats are critical to any type of exercise routine, as well as to staying active as a whole. If you have little kids, you are mosting likely to be crouching down several times a day. Attempt working this into a day-to-day exercise timetable. Sit your youngster on the floor with their playthings as well as execute several collections of squats, each time you go down please the baby or peek-a-boo. This workout when duplicated for a number of full sets a day will certainly reinforce your lower body and core. It helps maintain you bottom and also tum tight. Keep in mind to make use of right form.

3. Planks - Perhaps the very best ubiquitous workout an active mom can do. Hinge on forearms and toes. Hold as long as possible. Repeat this numerous times. Again, while your child is playing on the ground set on your own up in a plank. You stay at eye level with your child and also enhance your back as well as abs.

4. Push-ups - You can begin with wall push-ups or "girl" push-ups and also function your method up. Transform your planks into push-ups as well as rating 2 exercises in one.

Create a Routine

Your body is a collection of sets of muscles, and also your daily regular requirements to work those sets. You do this by matching each pull activity with a push activity. There are several types of movements we can do. Here is a brief collection of instances you can include.

1. Horizontal Push - Raise or child bench press. Hold your child with outstretched arms as you lay on your back, press them up and down to work your arms as well as chest.

2. Horizontal Pull - Table/chair row. Lay on your back under a table, grasp the side and also draw your upper body to the table. Sort of comparable to a pull-up, yet the normal pull up is a vertical pull. You can "baby row" bend at the waistline over your infant. raise the infant up to you and also then back down. Essentially the reverse of the baby bench press, as you are functioning the opposite pair of muscles.

3. Vertical Push, Vertical Pull - as stated the upright pull is the pull-up or assisted pull-up. The press variation can be done by holding the child at upper body degree and lifting them directly up over your head.

These are all typical games to have fun with a little one and you will certainly feel the advantage of working out with your youngster really promptly. As soon as you are solid enough to do this easily you can switch over to dumbbells or kettlebells to boost resistance.

If you do not have time for the exercise, you can obtain your workout by having fun with your youngsters. Walking and also keeping up your youngsters is a workout in itself. It's enjoyable also. Whether the allurement is a treat or another thing, your kids are a lot more happy to take part with nearly no complaining when there's something in it for them. No pity in that.

Don't Forget The Diet

Removing grains from your normal diet regimen and also taking in the ideal kinds of proteins and fats will certainly permit your body to enhance toughness, performance and melt fat a lot more quickly.

Finally, do not defeat on your own up. You have to discover to accept the downtime you have and maximize it. Never ever compare on your own to other moms. Do your finest for you.

[andaleduardo]

Rooftop N.2

 Ao3   N.1   N.3

Preview:  “Are you fucking drunk?!” The stage whispers sharp while Eddie’s eyebrows raised high on his forehead.

“I am fucking drunk.” Richie sighed out. “Now help me!”

Monday   26.04.1993

Loneliness sucks. It fucking sucks and Richie doesn’t get it. He can’t wrap his head around as to why he was feeling the loneliest man in the world if he was surrounded by his most loved friends. 

As soon as the losers sat at a table on the canteen, Richie devoured his lunch. He was always eating at school, the vending machine being his first stop every morning.

“That’s n-no breakfast, R-richie.” “Never said it was, Mom." 

 Sometimes, he takes out candy bars in the middle of his classes and the wrapper is always too noisy for the occasion. "Do you really need to eat in Maths, Richie?” “Well, Stan. Gotta eat when I’m bored, ya know?”

 And all those countless times he takes a bite out of Eddie’s sandwich. Which of course leaves the poor boy disgusted enough to give up on eating it and just handing it over to Richie. 

 They used to question him about it, why did he eat so much? Was that amount of food even healthy? But seeing as he didn’t put on any weight, they dropped it. And maybe because some of them started joining the pieces together and figured he wasn’t eating enough at home. Beverly was one of those people, who noticed and started contesting with anyone who would comment on Richie’s eating habits. She was always a step ahead.

So, as he was eating his lunch, no one cared anymore about the amount on his plate, or if he repeated afterwards, or maybe stole someone’s dessert. No, they knew better than to mention it. At first, Richie was self-conscious about it. Ever since his parents stopped acting like ones, he tried cooking, which didn’t really work if no one bought groceries regularly. So he would convince himself it was okay to eat freely around his friends, until it was. 

A couple seats from him, Eddie sat, stabbing his food with a fork and drawing patterns on the mashed potatoes. It had been a week since Richie and him met that night, and it fed on his belief that he was missing out on something. 

Does Richie usually go out at night? Do his friends go out at night besides the regular high school parties? Maybe they do.

‘I mean, we’re 17. I can’t blame them.’ Eddie spoke to himself while finally eating some of his lunch.

He couldn’t help but judge himself for being so neat all the time. Bed by 11 p.m. on school nights, no such thing as getting drunk, or skipping classes. That was the right thing to do, right? He was overthinking, again. 

Eddie simply felt alive as he stepped out of his window while his mother was in the next room. Ashamed for feeling that way, he fought the urge to shake his head in shame. Maybe his friends were right about him when they’d say he was too uptight.

Fuck, even Stan and Ben have more fun than he does. They let themselves be dragged by the losers to those pointless parties or to drink beer when they’d have a sleepover. Eddie always skipped those, the parties and the beers, not the sleepovers.

Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the way the night felt on his skin.

(Maybe it was Richie.)

Whatever it was, he really wanted to feel it again. A tiny pinch of freedom, the tinniest 'fuck you, Sonia’ that made it to his head as he did all the nice things he was supposed to do and still get denied if he asked to go out sometimes.

“Eddie, you still with us?” Eddie lifted his head to find Mike awaiting an answer along with five other pairs of eyes on him.

“No, sorry. Got in the mashed potatoes.”

Beverly spoke up. “We are planning on going to Bill’s after school to study and hang for a bit.”

Richie noticed the way Eddie’s eyes lit up just to fall again almost instantly. “Yeah, sure, but I’ll have to ask my mom first.”

Lunch carried on, and when Richie’s eyes met Eddie’s, they both smiled knowingly and sadly.

 -

 The water was scalding against Eddie’s skin, a failed attempt to keep his mind occupied with something. Something other than his emotions. It was a task that was becoming harder by the day, after two years of doing it. Since he was fifteen, he realized, he had been pushing down thoughts and feelings and something about Richie.

He turned the hot water tap further.

It’s wrong.

His skin was reddening under the overwhelming heat.

Stop.

Thinking.

The steam filled the bathroom slowly, making the air denser and harder to inhale. Eddie gave in to his rationality, finally setting the water to a normal, warm temperature. The way it felt hitting his tingling skin made him gasp, the sound echoing through the bathroom tiles. He closed his eyes shut and obliged his mind to change his trail of thoughts by starting to shampoo his hair and thinking back to the last hours of his afternoon.

 When his last class of the day ended, he went along with the rest of the group to Bill’s house. It was the best option calling his mother from there, she would give it less thought since he was already in the location.

Once that was out of the way and they prepared a variety of snacks for their planned study session, the attic of the Denbrough’s house was filled with teenagers and textbooks sprawled on the old couch and a couple of beanbags and the floor.

It had been going fairly well, silence was prominent with some whispered conversations about the school subjects being studied.

 Just a peaceful time. Eddie, his beanbag, his philosophy textbook, a pencil in hand and Richie’s death weight colliding with the beanbag. Before Eddie noticed his body was being projected upwards, the textbook falling with a loud thud on the ground while the pencil went rolling on the hardwood floors. Eddie himself fell on his ass just three inches away from the cushioned seat.

That alone was enough to set him off on a bad mood, but then he had to deal with Richie’s exaggerated laugh and share the too-small-for-two seat with him.

The frustration built inside him only to grow more and more as the afternoon passed. Having Richie’s body pressed flush to his side was not a comfortable way to study whatsoever, but it sure was a good way of fading reality and focus on every inch of him he could feel, specially when Eddie was pretending to read the same paragraph over and over and Richie wasn’t doing the same by any means. Eddie was leaning slightly forwards while Richie set his elbow behind him, curling sideways around Eddie’s torso and breathing shallow warm breaths on the exposed skin of Eddie’s neck.

Eddie couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or not, but he vacantly ignored it. Well, he faked to ignore it. It looked just like he was emerged in philosophy but he was way too deep in the way Richie felt. Whether it was their legs flushed together, or their hips joined by the sides, or Richie’s upper body minimally close to Eddie’s back, or of course, the warm breathing making goose bumps on his skin and the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Maybe Richie noticed, maybe not. But he didn’t mention it or teased him about it, just like none of his friends reacted to their closeness.

Eddie was going mad thinking he was the only one bothered by it.

That would have been enough to take him where he is now, but life was making sure he got the message. These studying sessions tended to end in everything else other than actually being productive. It was only expected that after ten minutes of internalized panic from Eddie’s part, everyone started off on different topics of conversations. The books and homework were put aside when they agreed to play a random party game, Eddie was thankful to have an excuse to move as they settled on the floor in a circle.

Thankful that is, until they agreed to play Paranoia.

The game is simple. Everyone sits in a circle, the first person starts by whispering a question to the person sitting on their side, the answer is given out loud. Then a coin is flipped, if it lands on head, the asker has to repeat the question out loud for the whole group, if it lands on tail the question remains unspoken and the players only know the answer.

Eddie had to deal with stupid questions whispered in his ear, which was bad enough. But then he had to try to contain his blush when Richie looked him up and down and bit his lip while Bev asked him a question, to which he answered “Eddie”.

He bit his fucking lip and answered Eddie. What the well did Bev ask?

The stupid coin landed on tail.

Eddie decided that the name Paranoia was appropriate.

He arrived home half an hour ago, his homework yet to be done. His attempt to distract his mind and shower was not very well thought.

He wondered what Bev whispered to Richie that made him answer his name. He thought back to heat growing inside him when he felt Richie’s eyes checking him from head to toe, and what that could possibly mean. In the middle of the condensed air emerging from the water, he could almost feel it again. The hot breaths coming from Richie’s parted lips so close to his neck.

A shiver ran up on the spot.

What if Richie bit him there as forcefully as he bites his own lip? What would it feel like if Richie had whispered his name that way? Against his skin in heavy sighs?

He inched a hand further down his body.

Wrong.

He took himself in his fist, eager to move and erase the built up tension from the last days.

So wrong.

His heavy breaths filled the bathroom, luckily covered by the distinct water sounds.

This shouldn’t happen.

But those thoughts couldn’t keep him from doing it, only make him regret it as soon as he was finished and had to scrub his skin clean. Like many other times over the last two years.

He turned off the faucet and covered his face with a freshly washed and softened towel.

Two years.

What a waste of time.

   Eddie joined his mother at the kitchen table 10 minutes afterwards and sat across from her. They talked throughout dinner about school, medication and plans for the week ahead. Eddie’s mind was out of it for obvious reasons, his focus point being the shame that roots inside his ribcage. He nods along the conversations and adds some words to it, enough to keep it going.

When he is asked about the evening he spent with his friends, Eddie answers automatically that it was very productive in studying terms. His mother seems satisfied and changes the subject, asking if Eddie wouldn’t blow-dry his hair before bed, as he always does. He says he didn’t have time after showering, but that she didn’t have to worry about him getting the pillow wet.

She claims it is unsanitary.

Eddie ignored her and excused himself out of the table, after all, he still had homework to finish due tomorrow. Once he was settled in his room in front of his textbooks, he focused on getting everything done. It was early, there was still plenty of time.

 -

   Eddie was halfway through a sociology assignment when he heard a alarming noise coming from his backyard.

His eyes bugged open and he stared motionless at his window for what felt like an eternity, with a heart that was trying to burst through his chest along with a mind wild with thoughts and possibilities.

Not tonight, please not tonight. Not after … that.

 It was only until continuous banging and hitting started that he practically flew to his window and threw it open. He stuck his head out just in time to see Richie with his arms over the roof tiles, attempting to throw his leg up as well.

With an audible gulp, Eddie groaned internally and whispered “What the hell?”

Richie finally noticed Eddie’s presence and smiled groggily. His voice dragged. “Oh hey, Eds!”

Squinting his eyes at him, Eddie noticed the flush on his cheeks. “Could you be any louder?” he paused to catch his breath. Why was he out of breath? “What’s with the noise?”

Richie stammered and struggled through his words. “Your trashcan’s putting on a fight.” He pouted. “The fucking bastard.”

Eddie could not believe his eyes and ears as Richie continued to insult the trashcan underneath his feet, trying to get his leg up on the roof and failing multiple times.

“Could you move your pretty ass and maybe help me instead of staring?” He struggled with balancing himself on the wastebin, then laughed at himself. The pieces joined.

“Are you fucking drunk?!” The stage whispers sharp while Eddie’s eyebrows raised high on his forehead.

“I am fucking drunk.” Richie sighed out. “Now help me!”

Eddie didn’t think his eyes could bulge any further or his heart could beat any harder in his ears right now.

He run the options over in his head. His hair wasn’t dry yet, if he got out he would surely get a cold. But what was worse? Getting a runny nose? Or getting a drunk (and loud) Richie inside his bedroom only to have his mom find them and do God knows what? The former seemed less scary.

All Eddie wanted was a good study night and time to submerge in unhealthy thoughts.

  He quickly rushed to his bedroom door and locked it from the inside, just in case. Then, he got out of the window and cautiously approached Richie, who had finally managed to get his leg on the side of the roof. Eddie pulled him by his forearms, afraid that they’d both roll out to the grass below. After crawling back near the window and far from the edge, Eddie realised how much it stung to see Richie in this state. He didn’t want him to destroy himself like that. Alcohol, to Eddie’s eyes, was just another way of self-destruction.

“Why are you drunk, Richie?”

Richie grabbed Eddie's arm while trying to sit comfortably on the roof. "Uh, because drinking is fun.”

Eddie sighed softly, trying not to sound disappointed.  "What happen-“ Richie gasped loudly.

"Eds, your hair!”’

Startled from the interruption, his hands rushed to touch his hair. “What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s wavy!” Eddie blinked, then snapped. 

“Richie, I swear. For God’s sake-“He inhaled sharply. “No, scratch that. For my sake, lower your damn voice, or my mom will kill us both.”

“But... it’s wavy.” Now with a lower voice, Richie intertwined his hand through Eddie’s hair and ruffled it a bit. “It’s pretty.”

Eddie groaned, defeated. “Don’t touch it, I didn’t have time to blow-dry it into place.”

“Don’t, then. It suits you.” Richie retorted, grinning, while Eddie hid a smile behind his sleeve.

“You are out of your senses.”

Richie didn’t reply and started leaning back to lay down facing the sky but his head collided with the windowsill, “Ow, shit.” and grasped it dramatically.

“Are you okay?” Eddie rushed to check for injuries, but stopped when Richie started laughing, not so loud as he was before. “You’re fucking impossible.”

Richie finally laid down uncomfortably on the roof tiles.

The sky was still pink and orange, the sun setting somewhere behind rows of houses. Eddie was staring worryingly at him but when Richie started humming songs under his breath and playing invisible drums in the air, he gave up on his concern.

Laying down on his back beside his friend, Eddie tried to ignore the shiver that ran up his spine when a breeze caught his humid hair.

  They were staring at the colour shifting sky with Richie’s muffled singing in the background when Eddie felt it again. The rush in his blood, a weight leaving his body. A tiny pinch of ‘being alive it’s worth it for moments like these’. He let a long breath leave his heavy lungs.

 -

   Countless minutes had passed when Richie’s singing faded, which made Eddie look over to him. He saw a tight frown on Richie’s face, eyes were squeezed shut and chin trembling slightly. ‘Well, here it comes.’ He thought to himself. It was true that Richie would easily get emotional while drunk, but Eddie doubted that drinking was what got him upset.   His heart broke at the sight of a tear rolling down Richie’s temple and getting caught on his ear.

“C'mon, Rich…” He nudged his side softly with his knuckles. “What’s going on?” Richie simply squeezed his eyes further, unable to stop himself from shuddering. He struggled through his words, his throat closing.

“Am I a burden?” He finally turned to face him with glimmering eyes.

Whatever was left of Eddie’s heart broke down in that moment. He stared back, shock and concern plastered on his features. “No, Richie. You’re not a burden, why would you think that?” He spoke softly.

"I’m always annoying everyone, right?” Richie gulped through his tightened throat. “Don’t try to deny it. I know it.”

Eddie sighed. “Richie, listen. You’re not a burden. You like to say what’s on your mind, so you do it.” He decided against continuing. “I really appreciate that you do, you know? You’re honest, you’re not afraid to talk, even if it gets you in trouble.” Eddie stared intensively at him, awaiting a reaction, a response.

Richie’s cheeks were stained and wet, another drop rolled down his skin. He was lost in Eddie’s features, both from alcohol and admiration. His eyes darted lower to his lips, and up again, only to find Eddie dazed and flushed. He sniffed. It was hard to concentrate.

 “Do you mean that?” When Eddie nodded, he continued, his voice low and the sky darkening above them. “For real? Even when I can’t stop the mom jokes?”

“Let’s not go that far.” Eddie smirked. “You’re a trashmouth, yeah, but I envy you for being brave to speak up for yourself, and for others.”

When Eddie thought the mood was finally getting lighter, Richie started crying compulsively. “I’m so sorry Eds.” He trembled. “You are so nice to me, and I come here so late, and you still put up with my shit. And now I’m fucking crying and I don’t know why. Look at all the crap I make you go thr-”

“No, Richie, stop that.” Eddie was trying not to lose his temper at the same time as trying to lift Richie’s mood. “I like it that you come here, I like it that you climb the side of my house and that we can sit out here, I do. You’re not annoying me. If anything, I should thank you for bringing something fun to my neutral house life.” He rushed through his words so that Richie wouldn’t interrupt him to cry harder. “C'mon, Richie.. Stop crying, no need for that, yeah?”

“Okay..” Richie snuffled again and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. Eddie cringed.

He still stared at him fondly when Richie took off his tear stained and fogged glasses to clean them on the hem of his shirt, which wasn’t really helping. Eddie couldn’t help but stare at the way his eyelashes glued to each other, giving Richie an even sweeter vibe.

“Here, let me.” He took the glasses out of Richie’s cold hands and fogged them up with his breath. His cotton shirt doing a way better job at cleaning the tick lenses.

“...Eds.”

“Hm?” He replied while cleaning the glasses. Nickname ignored.

“Maybe I could come more often, just like old times. Get you out of your misery.”

'Can he get more contradictory?’ Eddie thought to himself. After all, Richie was blaming himself for coming over two minutes ago.

“Sure Richie, you could come more often.” He finally handed the glass frames over to him. “Just like old times.”

Richie placed them on his face, his eyes enlarging. “Mondays fine?”

“Why Mondays?”

“Cause Mondays suck, but then they wouldn’t anymore.”

Oh.

“Yeah.. on Mondays, that’s fine.”

They kept quiet for a few seconds before Richie spoke up again.

"Eds."

"What?"

"...Your hair's really pretty like that." Eddie had to force an eye roll out of him so that he seemed annoyed by the compliment.

In the end, he did end up getting a runny nose and back aches from the tiles digging on his muscles, but none of that mattered.

rooftop taglist:    @richietoaster   @rainydayriots   @reddieloves    @thetrashmouthclub   @lemonboi03  @noodleboyshane    @pillsandglasses  @studpuffin     @dandelion-stan     @reddiesetrichie    @squishynonbinarytwink    @itschunky     @burymestanding    @duderrific    @its-rye @salty-kaspbrak   @youtubequeens   @reddieseggrolls   @addimagination   @pastelstozier @sleepysirenprincess @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh @eds-trashmouth

perma taglist:   @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh  @eds-trashmouth @girasol-eddie

[md3artjournal]

venting angst productivity failure time sleep practice progression

12:10 AM 3/25/2019

My daily figure photo series "Waiting for Ryuji" plus the daily/monthly drawing challenges I keep doing, are both destroying my days.  x____x;  It's been more than a week, and I haven't even finished the 23 paopu halves plushies I was supposed to do within 1-2 days!  I have so many projects to do for artist alley in early July!  ;O;  So many new products I want to make, but I have no energy!  It's becoming clearer that I only have energy for 1 (maybe 2) projects per day!  ;O;  That's just the 2 daily art projects/challenges to keep my art muscle in shape!  ;~;  Aughhhhh!  ;o;!  

Thank goodness I take notes for how long it takes me to draw different stages of a drawing, or else I would never have noticed I've been taking 3 hours per sketch.  O~o?!!!!  How is that?!  I'm not trying to be polished with those!  That was supposed to save time!  I mean, I'm not doing all-nighters anymore, like I did for Inktober 2017, so that's an improvement.  But 3 hours?!?????????  It takes me 10 minutes to do the primary sketch.  I know I can have problems designing a costume or conceptualizing a monster design, but 2 hours and 50 minutes?!?!?!??????  Omg...  I'm so hopeless.  Is this worth keeping my illustration muscles/skills in shape?  I've already accepted that I'm not an illustrator.  I suck too much.  I usually call myself a crafter, a jewelery, or a clay sculptor...Even though I've been drawing more frequently than ANY of those in a LONG time.  x~x;;;;  Is all this time really worth just TRYING to become better at drawing?  ;~;  I wanted to be able to nurture this skill so I could express myself with drawings, whenever I needed to express something.  But today was "Kiss Ryuji Day" and I was still too intimidated to draw anything for it, because I'm too afraid of how bad my attempts always turn out.  I couldn't even draw a good hug between Ryuji and Akira during OTPtember2018!  (It was such a bad drawing...That I tried SO hard on! ;_; )  I mean, I have to admit that I could turn some of my Magical March and MerMay challenge drawings into merch for artist alley, but objectively, none of it is good.  It's good *for me*, but compared to the competition in artist alley...What am I even doing there?!?  Looking at my sales data, the answer is I'm selling polymer clay sculptures, so again the question becomes, why am I using so much time to learn to draw, just so I can express myself, when it eats all my time away from making more clay sculptures that actually sell?  Is being able to express myself such a hang-up for me?  ...Yeah.  ~.~;  

So what about the figure photography?  I'll admit that those answers are simple.  It's a good way to practice an "eye" for composition, lighting, posing, etc.  I suck at it, and I don't put much effort into my lighting to mean anything against such greats as Kixkillradio, Love Pink Cheeks, Nendo Stories, etc.  When I look at their stuff, I can recognize how little I'm trying, and I have to ask myself "why am I even trying?".  Considering my self-expression fixation, figure photography is a good fill-in medium until I can better develop my drawing skills.  And I did originally start collecting figures to use as drawing models, which unavoidably funnels me into figure photography, so it's not like it's something I'll fully stop doing even if I stop setting up photoshoots and dioramas.  But I also really like making miniatures, figure accessories, diorama props, etc.  My sister said something like that if something makes me happy I shouldn't feel guilty about it and I should pursue it.  Whether I vent about how terrible I am for spending so much money on Nendoroids or when I refrain from buying supplies that could make my life less irritating out of frugality.  Maybe just feeling happy from doing figure photography is enough to justify it.  So maybe I shouldn't stop.  ...But I need to stop spending hours on Photoshop elements for figure comics.  That needs to seriously cut down, especially for a daily photo project.  

I know it never works when I resolve to stick to a schedule, but I really need to cut down how much time I use for these daily art projects, when artist alley is in a few months.  I don't outsource my products.  I have to make each and every one by hand.  That's the curse of the crafter.  I need to use more time for these crafts.  Jewelry, sculpting, designing, problem solving fabrication, etc...It's all stuff I love to do and once I start I don't want to stop...  But at this rate, I'm never going to get to it.  And then it'll just be a repeat of my horrible history.  Sure, last year I was able to finally make enough polymer clay Wayfinders to not sell-out my entire stock, half-way through Anime Expo---for once!  But it was still a situation of crunch time focused only towards my essential products and past best sellers, vs the thing I really wanted to do, which is making new products as well.  I waste so much time watching productivity videos, trying gameified motivation apps, and so much time wasted trying bullet journal techniques, thinking that if I just use this tracker or try this analog gameification technique, I'll finally stick to a schedule and thus be able to do everything I need and want to do....  But it always fails.  I really can't do more than 1 thing reliably per day.  And I have to practice daily to keep my skills up---my skills are too low to keep it to a once-per-week practice session.  

And it's started to wear down on me how much all these attempts and failures at a schedule are ruining my sleep cycle.  Everyday, there's a midnight I don't manage to get into bed on time, or a midnight in which I don't manage to be truly productive before midnight, so I have to stay up to get something done so I can go to bed, feeling good about myself as a person.  It's not as bad as school, but it is still a daily sense of failure, like school.  I recall the months (years?) that I resolved to no longer try to have a normal person's sleep schedule and just simply work on my projects as long as I have the will for, and than collapse into bed whenever.  I worked hard to have no social life, to have no one in my life vying for my time, so I should have no need to live in the same Time as anyone else.  But I had a breakdown last year, where I had to accept that I wanted the revive the good relationship I used to have with my mom, and I had to resolve to put some effort towards that.  So now I guess I have to live in the same Time as other people.  So I can't just be noctural and asleep while everyone else in my life is awake.  Yesterday, I think they tried to wake me to go to my uncle's birthday party/luncheon/dinner, but I sleep during the day and wake at night now.  I don't have FOMO for parties, being an introvert, but the next time---or rather how many times has my mom wanted to spend time together and I'm just in a different Time than her?  They go to movies every Tuesday sometimes invite me, haven't mentioned it in a long while, and for the past 2 weeks, I haven't even been able to be awake enough to go to two movies I've wanted to watch during the Tuesday-discounts.  Even right now, I'm staying up late again because I got sleepy during the day, and had to nap (and quite frankly I get better quality and more productive recuperation during daytime naps) so now I'm all rested to be awake...and it's past midnight.  Last week I finally got to a place where my sleep cycle more resembled a normal person's pattern, after 2+ weeks of work towards that.  And then one or 2 projects that went into the night, and all that progress was gone.  Sleeping like a normal person wouldn't be such an issue for me if I would actually be rested enough to be awake for when I want to get to work.  But I can't sleep even when I'm trying to sleep.  I'm amazed how spectacularly my attempts to sleep fail whenever I get to bed early ("early" as in a normal person's sleep pattern).  Is this all a lost cause?  Just like the rest of my life?  

Ugh.  I need to eat and sleep.  

2:13 AM 3/25/2019 Earlier today, my mom seemed to imply we could watch a movie on cable together, but I was in the moddle of a project.  I was fixated on a project instead, since sleep/fatigue had taken all my time, so the rare moments of productive will I have, I don't like to let go of it whenever I happen to have it.  It may ruin me, but in the end, I'd rather pay the cost of an all-nighter to get a good piece done, and have something as proof that I can be proud of myself (as well as use for artist alley for years to come), vs getting sleep on a normal person's pattern and have done nothing that stretched me beyond the limitations I thought I had. I like that proof of worth. (I've been seeing posts lately about "your productivity/skill is not your self worth" but I can't completely buy into that for myself anyway.) With my lack of memory and sense of self disappearing along with it, having artwork left along the way, as proof of who I was, what I'm capable of, and as concrete encouragement, proving that I can do great things, I have that inside me, even if those "great" things are just stretching beyond my subjective limitations by only milimeters...those are memories and senses of myself that I want and value.  ...And having new pieces in stock, ready to be turned into new artist alley products at the last minute, while I'm feeling bad that I hadn't had time to make anything new, is also great.  

[haleyguthrie93-blog]

Rovio To Open Official Angry Birds Stores Starting First In China.

When you attempt and fail to begin a brand-new habit-- mention, heading to the gym after work four days a week-- that's tempting to trump on your own for your incapability to commit. This menu is where the almonds and screws of the operating system are actually and also the desktop menu is actually arrangement similarly to the one in Microsoft window 7 with the exception of one tiny difference: there is actually no start button. Source -new Electrical power Sensor takes advantage of cutting edge modern technology to get more information concerning your swing and hit with additional power. Yet as you start earning an increasing number of perks, you will be used enormous savings as well as in auto and enhancements in efficiency criteria. Big, well-funded Israeli firms beginning to acquire other Israeli companies for significant sums from money, as well. http://e-quelledeslebens.info 're a great, well meaning ton which made use of to keep an eye out for the overall populace of the Republic, up until they was up to inner energy battles and cannot protect a settlement. If your Mac computer will not energy on at all, likely suspects are actually a broken energy supply, a negative logic panel, a wasted fuse (on desktop computers), a bad hvac or even a dead battery adapter (on portables). You'll be a starter for a low-ranked team, however won't create as promptly as others. Luckily though, if one liners coming from big males in power armour create an unpleasant cringe, you will definitely rejoice to recognize that for the substantial majority of the video game you will certainly rather be actually bordered by some instead ascetic Zerg characters. Start-up Supervisor is a built-in request that you could invoke in the course of the startup procedure to choose an amount to boot your Mac computer coming from. But our experts end up being comfy with exactly what our company began along with as well as normally cultivate a taste for that product. Generally my phone drops around 2% every hour and also my nexus 7 possesses plenty of power to last throughout the day despite having relatively massive make use of. Then accordinged to whatever our experts've read about the Change's energy when away from the dock they'll should place infiltrate making this run on also a lot less energy. I perform Project Fi and I actually wish to view all of them get a little bit much more affordable on price, they're actually starting to certainly not feel like the best deal in community any longer. Baseding upon the survey, the most effective nation to begin a service in is actually New Zealand. In addition, uncommon startup tone sequences are actually additionally indicative from a concern along with your Macintosh as well as are going to require troubleshooting to solve. By force giving up the app as well as introducing this once again soon after, you actually drained your electric battery twice, for no factor, because this was certainly not consuming any energy to start with. Yet if your battery charger performs sustain up to 18 watts, in theory you may be a bit more future-proofed when phones using this billing velocity begin to visit. Developer remarks: When excessive gamers leave behind the session after a match, this is actually not achievable to begin a new suit. In this video game you'll have control of Momoko, a schoolgirl switched energy suit hero, you battle to save the planet off the heinous powers from the Waru. If you recognize the power from 3 as well as include it in your advertising and marketing, you will certainly raise your effectiveness rate considerably. This will definitely sustain the low power state activities of the PlayStation 4. Our experts are actually supposing that the suspend/resume functionality is going to be managed by SCEI CXD90025G processor chip. I performed a reboot and that seemed to cease that. The Google Play Solutions battery utilization percent eventually dropped after carrying out that and also haven't possessed the issue today. Apple puts on a face for the general public, so it's rare you get to see just how huge and also strong the firm definitely is. Today's keynote was actually a muscle as well as certain efficiency that accurately presented Cupertino's power and grasp. Level of popularity - 106 people standing by at a bus pick up 3 hours rapidly become pissed off, particularly when the bus finally arrives and also this could simply store 10 people. Oddly though I discovered myself battling to know the war for our humankind as that was simply ever before outlined as an electrical power battle that seemed to possess very little benefit to the ruler, outwith having the capacity to assert you were actually the king clearly. I am actually unsure I 'd wish to energy by means of a whole two-hour motion picture making use of nothing more than the integrated speakers, however they do the job for YouTubing and also participating in activities (even though the rest of the system can't delay to the second). Apple is actually essentially trying to recreate what that finished with popular music and also the iPod, CNBC includes, by having a broken and also challenging " landscape as well as producing that simpler and also quickly obtainable through a centralized system. Wireless routers have Ethernet ports at the same time( at least some perform), thus yeah that kinda does concern cordless, as in my scenario mine is a dual stations router with 4 additional ports for Ethernet units, which this could possibly come in helpful for a few of us.

These amounts recommend that more than 99% people typically aren't thoroughly aware of how nuclear energy jobs-- thus listed here is actually a little background regarding the nuclear miracle that supplies around one-fifth people power. Electric batteries are going to receive smaller sized, electrical power demands are going to drop, but certainly not likely into the microwatts region. MyLeague is actually mentioned to become a sand box" model from MyGM that possesses much more on the internet parts for NBA 2K16. Power individuals who browse their wearable gadget lots, or even hundreds times every day, ought to use this brand new choice moderately as the almost sixfold increase in display screen awake time draws even more extract as compared to the previous, rather threatening 15-second restriction. That was actually officially introduced March 6, 2008, when Apple discharged its apple iphone SDK, providing devs the devices to start constructing native apps for the apple iphone.

[orindasfinest]

TDFL PR W#3

To admit to a thing that everyone already knows like Bill Clinton will someday when the antifa firing squad has him wetting his senile pants at gunpoint stammering about how Epstein was onto something with the tightness of 15-year-old box: yes, I missed last week. I shockingly have a girlfriend AND aspirations of being something other than a water babysitter for the rest of my life and the two combined to stop me from shitposting about fantasy football. I have now concluded with my significant other and with my job applications, filling both with rich cum, and will thereby turn my attention to the band of misfits I decided to assemble in hopes of winning a fantasy league for once in my fucking life, which in this instance would basically be like beating ‘Through the Fire and the Flames’ on Guitar Hero in easy difficulty. At least the Eagles officially suck so nobody can feel good about real-life accomplishments except for me and my lovable group of New Englanders who use HGH as lube when waxing their shaven carrots to lithographs of Jock Sutherland’s single-wing play designs. That is a real reference and I am so gratified that I got to waste seconds of your life making you try and process such a string of words – much like you will continue to do if you keep reading! Let’s begin.

10. Leaguema Balls (Mike)

Record: 0-3 | PF: 305.1 | PA: 425.3 | Streak: L3 | Last Week (I actually wrote out a rankings but then just never added the roasts, so they were worthless, but trust me) 10

Plays Next: Sean’s Hard Mangos (Sean)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Continuing to draw breath

It’s comforting to know that I can leave my sweet foundling rankings alone for a week and still have the unmoving anchor way at the bottom to keep it grounded and sturdy. You would have thought that assembling a competent fantasy football roster was Rogaine given Michael’s lack of familiarity with the concept. If you want, Dirt, you can think up an AIM away message to leave in this slot to save me the work for the next 13 weeks and so this entry has some consistency besides sucking more than spilling soup down your shirt in a meeting. (I know that wasn’t you but this guy deserves some of your grilling space.) Marquise Brown is going to blow out a lung trying to run under Lamar’s 102-yard touch passes on Sunday and turn back into Steve Breaston with a dumber nickname.

9. Sean’s Hard Mangos (Sean)

Record: 0-3 | PF: 374.4 | PA: 401.2 | Streak: L3 | Last Week: 8

Plays Next: Oh dear christ not my repeaters again

Questionable Decision of the Week: Dick amputation by tendon fatigue

Just as I take solace in Mike’s cellar-dwelling ways, I can relax about the other two Philly league members having decent squads just by looking at Sean’s merry band of sap-sucking stupidheads. You’d find more consistent direction from Sean behind the wheel of a car than you would from a team led by Derrick Henry and James Conner. And here I thought you were done with uninterested, underperforming ball-grabbers when you broke up with Hannah. Word of advice, dawg! You’re gonna get your first win this week because the algorithm isn’t yet advanced enough to throw up in both of your faces instead of assigning a victor between you and Michael, so act like you’ve been there before, or at least act like you know how to run a palatable social media account after three fucking years of trying and failing.

8. James White is Right (Tori)

Record: 0-3 | PF: 372.7 | PA: 439.7 | Streak: L3 | Last Week: 9

Plays Next: Cartoon Colt Copulation (Hahahahaha)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Acting like her dirt star is the brightest light in the sky when in reality it’s Proxima Centauri from Event Horizon

Much like capitalism, the league has created a placated and clueless middle class, consolidated wealth in the top 1%, and left the lower half of the populace to shiver and die like Austin Ekeler on the sidelines now that Melvin Gordon is back. Of course, knowing Tori’s family, they’d just bray about how the economy is thunderously good before unironically sharing deep-fried boomer memes while she gently chides them through comments, pretending there’s not a little racist in her team name. And in her soul. James White is back, though, having just watched his wife give birth, knowing that whole time that the tearing and screeching he was witnessing would pale in comparison to Tori trying to fit a toothpick up her half-thimble rear entrance.

7. Mark Ruffalo’s Ruffalo Bills (Aidan)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 410.5 | PA: 408.8 | Streak: L1 | Last Week: 3

Plays Next: The Queen’s Booty Lickers (Liv)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Using his asshole around women and not expecting repercussions

Benefiting from a more questionable handout than the insurance settlement that gives him money for having headaches sometimes, Aidan rode high on the back of a free Mahomes the first two weeks of the season. That all came crashing down when Lauren put him in a dumpster in this past matchup, which was probably an upgrade from his place in Chicago. Aidan has a picture of the Blues Brothers’ trainside apartment on his vision board in the hopes that someday he can move somewhere that high-class. Expect further regression as Josh Jacobs and Leonard Fournette continue to suffer from some sort of Power 5 running back glaucoma which makes them barrel directly into their linemen’s asses on every handoff instead of bouncing to the acres of green space just outside the tackles. This is much like how Aidan rushes for beans on toast instead of attempting to taste flavor.

6. Airstrip One Ezekiels Engels (Derv)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 404.7 | PA: 387.8 | Streak: W2 | Last Week: 7

Plays Next: TEAM DUMPSTER BEARS (Lauren)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Fookin ‘ell ‘ard ta pick one innit luv xx

After a less auspicious start than the Easter Rebellion, Derv has rebounded from a sheer fleecing to fashion herself into something of a competent franchise owner. Knowing the strength of her impostor syndrome, though, she’s liable to swap Zeke for a scalding slap in the face *battered whisper* because that’s the type of team that she deserves. I would say this ranking of 6 will be the highest you will ever get but I think if you’re a good enough girl this year, around Thanksgiving your dad will finally put you on his shoulders so you can see the inflatable turkeys parading down the garbage metropolis a mere three hours from you upstate hovel. Otherwise it’ll be another long outing of sinking further down the standings and standing so low at 4’8 you look like you’re dissolving into a sinkhole.

5. The Queen’s Booty Lickers (Liv)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 399.7 | PA: 394.3 | Streak: L1 | Last Week: 1

Plays Next: Mark Ruffalo’s Still Not a Funny Name (Aidan)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Taking dick so long it got mistaken for the amount of time she spends on the toilet

How the mighty have fallen! One minute, you look like an infallible cock destroyer, and then BANG! You get run over. But I won’t bring up your car accident too much. I’m seeing more hopeless tears from your Johnson & Johnson RB corps than from babies piteously afflicted by their cornea-searing shampoo. It’s fitting that such an intermittent contributor would have a roster full of people that basically decide whether or not they want to do a football on a play-by-play basis. “How about an out route, Amari?” “How about you sit in a room for 10 minutes with Liv’s roommate, coach?” This team could light the league on fire but it’ll settle for searing its own britches at completely unpredictable hours. Again, just like Liv.

4. The Birds Have Arrived (John)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 402.1 | PA: 391.4 | Streak: W1 | Last Week: 4

Plays Next: Poo Poo Point Diarrheas (Griffin)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Sending Snickers to hell. She was a good cat john.

The man with the worst opinions in the league dropped Antonio Brown for some reason even though he was clearly a kindred spirit in that regard. There’s no difference between what AB did and what John said about candy, except for the fact that I’d be more comfortable with jizz on my back than I would listening to more of his sweets-based takes. (Come to think of it, I’d just be more comfortable with jizz on my back.) As alluded to before, Melvin Gordon is returning to action, which means John can stop pretending that Miles Sanders will be any kind of valuable contributor, about 4 years and one hair-tearingly bad contract extension before the Eagles do the same. While you’re on the road with the VengaBus, Oakman, see if you can pick up a kicker who realizes that people with apostrophes in their names belong on the defensive line and who can actually put the ball through the fucking uprights.

3. Cartoon Colt Copulation (Gabe)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 422.5 | PA: 333 | Streak: W2 | Last Week: 2

Plays Next: James White is Right (Delicious)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Looking past all the signs that Lauren sabotages air travel just to spend extra time with me and trying to aim my blasts to curve around her IUD anyway

I would just like to immediately point out that my points for is second highest in the league and therefore I righteously deserve my place near the top of the rankings AND could even go for higher. I would also like to admit that I have by far the lowest points against. So even when I excel, I do it in arenas that are specifically set up for me to succeed, which feels appropriate for me as a white man. I’m swinging my dick on an unlevel playing field like Steve-O on a teeter-totter with a scorpion. Saquon’s injury is all I need to have the pinchers come rocketing towards my little glistening head and put the clamps on my high-falutin’ status. BUT FOR NOW FUCK YOU JACOBY BRISSETT IS GOD which is only right and fair in the name of equality

2. TEAM DUMPSTER BEARS (Lauren)

Record: 2-1 | PF: 426 | PA: 363 | Streak: W1 | Last Week: 6

Plays Next: Airstrip One Historical Reference Yawn (Derv)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Do I really have to spell it out? After she spent a whole weekend plus in my bed? Come on, guys. Going back to Buzz City and pretending low rent is a fair tradeoff for having about as much culture as spoiled yogurt

Team Clemson had a TAMU product to thank for their banana sandwich performance in matchday number three as Mike Evans put up FORTY FIVE FUCKING BIG ONES in, of course, a losing effort for his real-life Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Scoring points but losing everything of consequence is nothing new to Lauren after her latest tussles with Catan. But the soaring to improbable heights is taking on gorgeous new wrinkles as different folks step up week after week to put up the performances of their lives, only to be invariably out of gas week nine, leaving her roster a withered, gaping husk with bitter glances back towards what once was as she tries to wring some sort of enjoyment from the remnants. Welcome to childbirth, honey!

1. Poo Poo Point Diarrheas (Griffin)

Record: 3-0 | PF: 396.5 | PA: 342.7 | Streak: W3 | Last Week: 5

Plays Next: The Birds Have Arrived (John)

Questionable Decision of the Week: Getting tested for STDs. Next you’re gonna tell Sean not to drunk drive. Narc

Griffin has the 4th-lowest point total out of all of us, yet he is the sole occupant of first place as of press time. The last time I saw a fatty get this much undeserved shine, my ex-girlfriend made me watch an entire episode of This Is Us. You’re rocking Mitchy Trubes at quarterback, whose play style must be similar to your lovemaking technique: going long a lot, but never looking like you have any idea what you’re doing. I am so happy about your brief stay at the top of the mountain and I hope you can brag about it at show choir or whatever. Just remember that the #1 spot in these rankings is not like having abandonment issues. You don’t need to get used to it.

[lav-enderlemon]

This is about to get really dark so fair warning. This has tags for trigger warnings as well if you are sensitive to suicide mention. I've been wanting to get this out of my system for years. So here goes nothing. I'm suicidal. Guess you didn't know that right? I'm actually extremely suicidal and have attempted suicide 2 times before, of course failing to go all the way through. I remember about a year ago I used to hold a pocket knife to my wrist and try to cut myself but in the end I didn't have what it took to draw my own blood. I never had the confidence to tell everyone either because a friend of mine was also suicidal at the time and she told someone and they tried to admit her to a mental asylum and called her insane so I was petrified to say anything. I remember when I first tried to kill myself. It was only 10 months ago back in August or July and I had waited until around 3am. We have a busy street behind our house, so I snuck back and waited to start seeing cars, and when i did I started to walk towards the middle of the street. When I got there I just, stood there. The next car to come saw me and stopped immediately getting out and walking towards me. They took me to the curb and started to talk to me and ask why I was standing in the middle of the road. I explained the entire thing and just started to cry and they sat there for at least 2 hours with me telling me all the reasons I should live before soon they got back in their car when I had felt good enough to go back home, and they drove away. I have never seen them sense. The only reason I haven't died yet is because of them. If I killed myself then that would go against everything they'd've done. And I'm not going to make those two hours turn into a waste by taking my life. That doesn't stop the feelings but it helps. So to any of my followers, friends, or just someone looking through their dash, remember you are loved. You don't deserve to die because your problem is temporary. I may not be much better then I was that night but I am! And that's progress. You have a whole life ahead of you filled with love and happiness and I want you to live it. I'd also like to add, something as small as an "You are cool" can lift someone's spirits catastrophically. So thank you all of my mutuals and followers whether I met you in October or 2 days ago. You have helped me through something very dark and it means to much for me. Thank you.

[fleeting-phantasm-blog]

Trick Question: An Undyne & Papyrus Friendship Fic

(A second version of the post without the gift recipient tagged / my obnoxious yammering--for a cleaner reblogging experience :3c .)

Rating: G, All Ages (occasional language) Characters: Undyne & Papyrus Genre: Friendship, Fluff AO3 Link: Right here~

Summary: Guard Captain Undyne is used to taking new recruits under her fins—so much so, that she’s gotten pretty good at discerning what type of soldier the greenhorns are likely to become even long before they’ve finished basic training! But when Undyne throws her latest student for a loop, he, in turn, throws all of her expectations right out the window. Whoopsy doopsy! (Gift for Tumblr user “battz” as part of the Undertale Dating Sim team’s secret santa exchange :3)

Let me start off by saying I’ve learned two very important things recently: 1. That my never-ending patience actually ends after midnight; and 2. When opened with enough force, my front door can launch a fully-grown monster a distance of about a hundred meters—give or take.

…

Okay, maybe add a third to the list: Skeletons are just as durable as they are persistent.

* * *

If someone wants to join the Royal Guard but feels they need a little extra help preparing for the intense entry process, the Underground has tons of options they can take advantage of if they so choose. We’ve got dojos, cram schools, personal trainers, you name it—each and every one licensed and verified by yours truly.

It used be that the Captain of the Royal Guard never got involved this early on, but I fixed that real quick. The Captain should be personally aware of everything at every stage, and they should be both accessible and approachable in case a problem shows up. Like, if there’s an issue at one of the prep schools, or if recruitment numbers suddenly take a nosedive, then that means something’s gotta change—possibly at a very basic or public level. And who better to kick start that change (or prevent the problem from happening in the first place) than the one who, basically, should be the most public face in the entire Guard.

At least, that’s what I think.

To this end, I’ve personally sat in on junior training exercises and given lectures; I’ve dined with recruits who passed the entrance exams on their very first try, and I’ve shared drinks with those who failed ten times in a row—but, dammit, let’s knock back a few and forget for a bit, ya hear?! I’ve also sat down with dozens of ordinary citizens who, though not shooting for anything like the Royal Guard, were just plain sick of the way their lives were going and wanted to turn things around.

I guess what I’m trying to say with all this is that even though I’ve earned an “official” title that affords me a lot of “official” privileges, I’m not about to turn my nose up to the average Joe. The Captain’s duties should go way beyond the fancy suit of armor, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way long after I’ve passed the position on and become a crotchety old pile of dust.

…That said, though, this is the first time over the course of my entire career that I’ve had the pleasure of working with someone of Papyrus’s—what’s the word—magnitude? This guy had the brass balls to bypass every proper, kingdom-accredited training method and bring his (nonstop) requests for “personal Guard preparation” straight to me. No hesitation. No concern for schedules, socially acceptable phone call hours, or even personal space. Rain or shine, there he was—a bony bundle of enthusiasm.

So when Papyrus unsurprisingly bounced back from his 3AM express trip across my lawn care of my front door, I don’t know if it was more exhaustion, admiration, or an overwhelming sense of concern for his well being that finally made the Captain of the Underground’s Royal Guard throw in the towel.

“Alright,” I said. “If you think you can handle it, I’ll run you through the ropes myself.”

And, covered in the muck of Waterfall, his smile could have powered a city.

* * *

I’d like to say Papyrus showed up bright and early for his first session, but that’d be a lie: He never left. I guess camping out in the yard was way more efficient than walking the short distance to and from Snowdin, and “A future Royal Guardsman has to be as efficient as possible. Right, *~*~*Captain Undyne*~*~*??”

I made my coffee extra strong that morning.

Once our start-time rolled around, I stepped out of my house to find Papyrus ready and waiting—albeit, looking all sorts of goofy with his chest puffed to his chin and his arms firmly glued to his sides.

“You can relax a little,” I told him. “This is off-record. I prefer getting to know people without all the stuffy formalities.”

“Yes, Captain Undyne! Right away!” But of course he didn’t relax until I realized he wanted me to say “at ease,” and when I did, he giggled the whole way out of his special form of attention as if it was the best thing he had heard in his life. Then, blatantly ignoring everything I had just said about formalities, he promptly asked, “Captain Undyne? Permission to inquire as to why you are not wearing your armor if we’re going to be sparring?”

“Uh… granted?”

“Why are you not wearing your armor if we’re going to be sparring?” The dude was seriously raring to go, his weight bouncing slightly from leg to leg like some kind of boxer on a sugar high.  

“Slow your roll, there,” I said with a laugh. “If you wanna pass the entrance exams, then there’s more you gotta worry about than just the physical.” From under the crook of my arm, I pulled out a ratty old folder filled to bursting with a whirlwind of papers. “You see, a good Guardsman not only knows how to fight, but when to fight, why to fight, and even if to fight. The twenty-page written exam makes sure all our candidates are aware of this—along with knowing a bunch of Underground laws and other general information. We’re gonna start with that so we can get it out of the way. Just think of it like… pulling a tooth, or something. Painful but necessary.”

Yet, when I tried to give the documents to Papyrus, he held up a hand and politely refused.

“Oh, I’ve heard tall tales about that dreaded test,” he said. “But I can assure you, Captain Undyne, that you won’t need to waste even a second of your precious time on helping me study. I’m a walking encyclopedia when it comes to the Royal Guard.”

Classic greenhorn confidence. Seen it a million times.

“Really now.” I challenged. “Then how ‘bout I ask you a few questions just to make sure?“

Contained within the folder I brought were all sorts of documents I had saved over the years: copies of Guard reports and case files, a few book scans, lists upon lists of various laws and definitions. It was a great big pile of organized chaos that I not only used as a constant reference but also willingly shared if one of my units was struggling with some of the more… technical aspects of the job. Some of it you could find in textbooks; others you’d have to go digging through the bowels of the courts to snag even a scrap. For a solid fifteen minutes, Papyrus and I went back and forth, with me tossing out what I thought were the most impossible questions I could find in an attempt to catch that rookie’s pluckiness of his off-guard.

“That’s an easy one, Captain Undyne! The Magic Conservation Act was signed into law by our very own King Asgore Dreemurr, in the Year of Our Dog 19XX.”

Okay, good, he got the year right. Most people miss that.

“Anti-Human Directive 10? That depends: Do you mean the original or the amended second edition?”

Wait, there’s a second edition?

“The Research Division? Why, that’s a special squad assigned to escort the Royal Scientist during important, castle-mandated fieldwork.”

Hang on, that’s not even public knowledge. I formed that group last week because I was worried about Alphys!

I slapped the folder shut, stunned. “Well, roll me up in rice and serve me with a side of soy sauce.”

“Did I win?!” Papyrus chimed. “Permission to ask if we can spar now, Captain Undyne?”

Somehow, by the grace of whatever crazy being drives this world, Papyrus answered every single Dogdamn question correctly. I didn’t know if I should shake his hand or file for a restraining order. Still, if he was so eager to jump into the fray, then I needed to be absolutely sure of something—that he knew the most important answer of all.

“Listen,” I said. “The reason you’re doing all this is so you can become a Royal Guard, right? You wanna get a cool suit of armor, make a name for yourself, maybe kick a few humans in the keister?” Papyrus nodded with so much vigor, I thought his skull would fall off. “Then, before you can even think of crossing spears with me, I need you answer one last question.” His nod that time was a bit slower. His expression grew solemn, showing that he understood this was important. “Papyrus, what is a Royal Guard?”

“What is a…” He tilted his head to the side, brows drawing together as he mouthed the question.

“…Royal Guard,” I repeated, assuring him that I did, indeed, ask the question correctly. “The individual, not the group—if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Right. Yes. That’s… what I was wondering. Thank you, Captain Undyne.” Papyrus’s voice trailed off into a mumble. He looked to the cavern walls, tapping the ground with a foot as the two halves of his jaw ground together in thought. There was honestly something deeply satisfying watching him fish for a response after he conquered my Q&A session. Finally, after some intense contemplation, he found one—or, rather, a series of them: “A Royal Guard is… someone employed by the Royal Guard? Wait, no. A Royal Guard is a living extension of our king’s righteous paw! Or, well, I suppose you could say that about a lot of things. A Royal Guard is—I’ve got this, Captain Undyne, I swear—is someone who has passed stringent tests and is officially licensed, under royal decree….”

And so on, and so on.

Once Papyrus realized his twisty little spaghetti strand of answers wasn’t getting him anywhere, he stopped talking and just kinda stared at me. Then, all at once, the confidence he built up over the course of the afternoon deflated from his body.

“I’m sorry, Captain Undyne. I guess I… I don’t know the answer to that.” He slumped over so far his voice was muffled in that weird costume of his. The poor guy probably thought he just ruined everything. I couldn’t help but walk over and give him an encouraging pat on the back.

“Well, that’s no good,” I said. “It’s hard to become something if you don’t even know what it is. Still, you’ve got time to figure it out. Study up, and see if you can find the answer. Once you do, we’ll move on to some actual sparring, okay?”

This time, when I handed him the folder, he actually took it.

* * *

Anytime I train someone, I’m reminded of what Alphys once said: The more you observe something, the more you start to notice patterns in its behavior, which then makes it easier for you to form a hypo- … hippoth- … Basically, you hang around something long enough, you get better at predicting what it’s gonna do.

For folks like Papyrus, experience has told me that I have to be a little careful when working with them. I’ve seen his personality type before: a naïve go-getter filled with all sorts of shiny fairy tale dreams that he hopes to live out if he gets into the Guard—which is fine; I’ve got some pretty faffy dreams myself. It’s just, when it comes to his particular type of personality, I’ve learned over the years that their spirits tend to, well, wilt when the going gets tough. Not always, but often enough. That’s not to say they don’t make excellent soldiers, though. The ones who’ve made it through and come out on top are some of the best damn Guards I’ve had ever had the honor of working with. They have this goodness inherent in them that’s getting more and more difficult to find these days.

Unfortunately, in this line of work, that genuine goodness is also getting more and more difficult to keep. When folks like Papyrus join up and realize what real Royal Guard life is all about—when “niceness” becomes “weakness”, when they’re constantly faced with the worst of society… with all the injustices in the world that don’t have easy answers (if any at all)—then that goodness starts to falter. Give it enough time, it rots into bitterness and then anger, even hatred. I’ve seen it mark the faces of many of our veterans. I’ve even struggled with it myself.

That is exactly why I didn’t want Papyrus to jump in to combat training as quickly as he had been hoping—and, probably, why I didn’t agree to train him right away. The most I knew about him before all this began was what I had heard from his brother, Sans, and even that was enough for me to form a conclusion. That first day of training only solidified it: Papyrus is too good. Too nice. In the most beautiful, wonderful sense, Papyrus absolutely does not belong on a battlefield, and I will be damned before I put him there.

I thought starting with the written portion of the entry exam would give Papyrus a good idea of what we do and how I work before he got a taste of the real serious stuff. My plan was to spend a week or two drilling him with questions, grilling him for every wrong answer, and ensuring he learned his stuff through the only way the Guard knows how to teach it—with no punches pulled. Maybe then he would realize, before he got too invested, that this might not be the life for him. That he could back out with no hard feelings and discover a ton of other options just waiting for someone like him.

Then, his uncanny knowledge of Royal Guard matters both public and highly top secret oh my god flushed that idea. Immediately after Papyrus’s first session, I found myself scrambling for a new plan of action.

I needed to know more. If I could learn more about him, maybe find out some of the things he liked to do, I could sort of… nudge him away from the Guard.

Maybe.

I was never good at subtlety, but it was worth a shot.

So, that week turned from “Let’s Learn About the Royal Guard” to “Let’s Learn About Papyrus Instead”—under the guise of teaching him more about the Guard, of course. One day, I took him for a tour of the castle grounds. The next, I showed him around the barracks. The day after, we grabbed a bite to eat at a popular Royal Guard pub in New Home. The whole time, I took a backseat during our conversations and let Papyrus do what Sans said he does best—talk about himself.

And, wouldn’t you know it, it worked.

“You’ll find that my magic is kind of like yours, Captain Undyne, in that it mostly takes the form of projectiles. You’ll also find that it’s not like yours in that it’s really popular with certain … canine types. I’m not sure why.”

“…So, there they were, trying to gang up on Sans. But then—and this is the best part, Captain Undyne—then came the Great Papyrus! Wham! Bam! Thank you, ma’am! We never saw those troublemakers again.”

“…And that was third time I had to swoop in and prevent a giant brawl. All because he was too lazy to give up his special seat at the bar. Can you believe that, Captain Undyne? Who knows what might’ve happened had the Great Papyrus not been there? Sheesh!”

Outside of his countless tales of personal heroism, (all of which held about as much water as Hotland), a common trend across Papyrus’s discussions was his brother…

“Let me be the first to apologize for Sans’s laziness, Captain Undyne. Once I become a Royal Guard, I swear I’ll work three times as hard to make up for his churning void of inactivity.”

…And that got me thinking. Clearly, Papyrus was the type who loved to do things for others. Sure, he complained when “others” meant “Sans”, but it was obvious he still got a kick out of it beneath all his grumbling. If I could steer him towards something like that… something like cooking… cleaning… some kind of job that allowed him to use his talents for the sake of others… then….

It was towards the end of the week that Papyrus gave me back the folder I loaned him.

“I’m sorry, Captain Undyne,” he said. “I read everything in here front-to-back, but I’m afraid I still couldn’t find the answer to your question. And while these conversations have been incredibly enlightening, they, too, have led me no closer to the truth.”

I chuckled. “Well, it’s not exactly an easy question.”

“To say the least. You’ve posed a real stickler, Captain Undyne. A puzzle capable of japing even me! But, if it means you’ll train me in Royal Guard combat, then the Great Papyrus will never give up.” He flashed a confident smile. “So, I talked to some of the Guards myself to see what they thought.”

As it turns out, during the times we weren’t hanging out, Papyrus was running around asking every damn Guard he could find what they thought it meant to be a Guard, and when he pulled out a list of responses that unfurled all the way to the ground, some teeny tiny part of me might have started to think that maybe there was a better way of doing this.

“Were… any of those the right answer, Captain Undyne?” Papyrus asked, once he had read off each and every one. “Don’t tell me it was ‘Bark’ the whole time. Otherwise, I may have to rethink my opinion of Lesser Dog.”

And although I had suddenly learned more about my own guards in the past hour than I had over years of working with them, all I could do was shrug. Papyrus still didn’t get it.

“P-permission to ask for a hint?” His face was the picture of disappointment.

“Do you get hints in the heat of battle?”

“…Yes?”

I shook my head with a laugh. “Chin up and keep working, Papyrus.”

* * *

That weekend, my routine patrol turned up some disturbing news. Papyrus refused to leave his house.

“Eh, sometime yesterday he started moping around. It got so bad, I actually had to go out and buy our groceries. He’s giving even my laziness a run for its money.” Sans’s signature grin only widened, as if this behavior of his brother’s wasn’t something incredibly worrying. “But I always knew he’d grow into his true calling. He’s kind of a late bloomer.”

With that frightening thought in mind, I marched myself right over Papyrus’s place and pounded on his front door. Once, twice, three times. Yet there was no answer.

“Papyrus?” I called. Still no response. Is he in his room? I rounded the back of the house and peered up. A shadow moved behind the second floor window of Papyrus’s bedroom. Bingo. I balled up a wad of snow in my gloves and tossed as lightly as I could. Sure enough, the hefty thump was loud enough to draw a bony white face to the glass.

“Captain Undyne?” Papyrus opened the window a smidge. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing,” I said. “What’s going on? Sans says you’re being quite the lazybones.”

“What? That is not true!”

I shrugged. “Well, whatever it is, it’s weird and it worries me, so I’m not leaving until you come out.” He made as if to protest, but I cut him off. “Papyrus, I’m wearing four layers and am fully trained in survival tactics. Also, there’s a general store down the street. I will wait as long I have to.”

He couldn’t win, and I think he knew it. With a sigh that fogged up the glass, Papyrus disappeared from his window. Not a minute later, I heard the front door open, and I met him on the porch. Dude was a mess. I mean, dark circles under his eye sockets, definitely-did-not-sleep kind of mess. The whole thing gave me a prickle of déjà vu.

“You were thinking about that question again, weren’t you?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Papyrus seemed to fold against the doorframe. “Captain Undyne, should I really be aiming for the Royal Guard, when I, apparently, don’t even know what a Royal Guard is?”

Oh. Oh boy. Here we go.

Well, it was what I wanted, wasn’t it?

But I didn’t think he’d be this upset!

He really put his all toward this, didn’t he?

What was I thinking?

I…

“Follow me,” I said. “Class is taking an emergency field trip.” When Papyrus didn’t budge, I pulled out my trump card. “Captain’s orders.”

* * *

At the garbage dump between Waterfall and Hotland, there’s a particular place I like to go to whenever life gets me down and I just need a good think. It’s a small hill overlooking the cascades made up of a bunch of appliances that have all rusted together into one big pile of Dog-only-knows what. It’s just close enough to the tourist-y parts to let me keep an eye on everyone while still far enough away to provide a little bit of peace. It’s where I first saw Alphys.

It’s also where I took Papyrus.

Carefully, I hoisted myself up onto what was left of a washing machine. Papyrus plopped down next to me and, staring at his lap, sat there absentmindedly kicking his legs in the air. You could practically see the rain cloud hovering over his head.

“Permission to ask…” He stopped himself. “Um, why are we at the dump, Captain Undyne?”

“So you can see what a Royal Guard is,” I said. “At least, to me.” That seemed to perk him up. He straightened slightly.

“What do you—”

“—Hey, close your eyes, listen for a bit, and tell me what you hear.”

Papyrus did so. “Well, okay. Let’s see … I hear the sounds of the river. I hear bits of trash falling into the water. Oh! I also hear the Great Papyrus.”

“Anything else?”

He listened again for a minute. “…Kids. I think I hear kids.”

Sure enough, a group of tiny voices—the usual crowd of mischief-makers; I could tell—gradually rose above the din of the dump.

“Whoa, check this thing out!”

“What is it?”

“It looks like one of those human game machines. Yeah, see? You use these buttons to move what’s on the screen.”

“Does it work?”

“I dunno. They probably wouldn’t have thrown it out if it did. I can ask my cousin. He knows all about this kind of stuff because he uses lightning magic.”

“But wait, we don’t have any games to go with it.”

“Oh yeah. Well, maybe there’s some nearby. Let’s keep looking.”

The kids carried on like that for a good while, buzzing with excitement over all the things they had found. It was only after they had gone did I turn to Papyrus again. “What do you make of that?”

“Sounds like they were having fun.”

I nodded. “Right? But isn’t it a little strange? I mean, think of where all this stuff came from.”

“…From humans,” said Papyrus.

“Exactly. The very things that killed our ancestors, drew us into an unwinnable war, and then stuffed us all into the Underground. The very things that, even though we haven’t seen one in-person for years—thank Dog—are still part of our society.” I held my arm out over the mountains of trash. “They’re in our classrooms, textbooks, and museums. They’re in our picture books, our TV shows, our homes. They’re even in the far corners of our dreams. For what it’s worth, those kids shouldn’t want to associate with this stuff at all. They should be scared of it. But they’re not. And you know why?” I stood up on the washing machine and gave Papyrus the best grin I could muster. “Because they know they don’t have to be; the Guard will protect them.” I took a breath. “There’s no telling how long we’ll be stuck down here, so the best thing we can do is make sure everyone sleeps soundly today without having nightmares about tomorrow. That, to me, is a Royal Guard: someone who keeps even boogiemen away.”

Papyrus had grown quiet. I wasn’t sure if he was just listening—or if he was surprised, stunned into silence, or what—but his expression, unreadable though it might have been, told me he was hinging on my every word. So, I went on.

“You see, you can memorize facts and protocol until your brain bleeds, master every fighting style known to monster, work your way up to a spot higher than that of even the King … but it all means jack if it doesn’t serve a purpose; if you don’t have a reason, a goal, something that gets you up in the morning and pushes you to do what you do even when every fiber in your body is telling you to stop. For a Royal Guard, well, that’s what makes a Royal Guard.” I gave him a nudge with my elbow. “And that is something you have to define for yourself, Papyrus. Nobody else can tell you the answer.”

Having said what I wanted to say, I took a breath and let my words sink in. Before Papyrus got too involved, before he decided to throw his life—his goodness—out into an uncaring world, I needed him to fully understand: A Royal Guard is what he makes of it…but it shouldn’t be about the gear, the status, the parties, the semi-legal ability to use semi-lethal force… It should be something greater than himself, greater than even the Great Papyrus.

“I’ve got it.” Papyrus’s voice wrenched me from my thoughts. “I know what a Royal Guard is!” He stood up and, once again striking that dorky pose with his hands on his hips, proclaimed to the Underground, “A Royal Guard is someone who makes the world a little safer for those who are small and don’t have a lot of HP!”

That… was quick. I whistled through my fangs. “Nice! I dig it. A ‘protect the weak’ kind of person? That’s totally you, Papyrus!”

He fidgeted and flushed straight to his forehead. “W-well, I don’t know if I’d necessarily say ‘weak’. On the contrary, Sa—”

Unfortunately, the sudden addition of Papyrus’s full weight, coupled with his now excited jitteriness, had loosened the washing machine’s age-old hold on the mountain of trash. With the explosive creaking of corroded metal, our former seat sent us tumbling to the ground atop an avalanche of household appliances.

Again, like I said before, skeletons are just as durable as they are persistent. Fortunately, the same can be said of fish as well. Soaked in nasty water and garbage, and surrounded by a mob of concerned onlookers, we laughed and laughed until we realized our guts hurt not from laughter but from possible internal bleeding.

* * *

As we walked back from the dump that day—two bruised and bandaged peas in a pod—Papyrus had his head tilted to the sky, and his steps seemed doubly as sure of themselves. Yet, watching him saunter about in that overblown stride of his, I got the strangest sense that, for the first time in a long time, Papyrus had finally, truly begun to relax.

Now, if only he could teach me how to do that.

Not gonna lie, I was still worried about him. Like some neurotic, different-species mother, I knew deep down I was gonna worry about him and that brilliant goodness of his ‘til the day I was six feet under. But, I also knew that if I stuck to him like glue, if I became the best Captain I could be…

No, wait, scratch that last bit…—

“Hey, Papyrus? Before we start your training proper, I need you to do one last thing for me.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’m ready for another tough question just yet, Captain Undyne.”

“It’s not that, ya dork. I need you call me ‘Undyne’. No more of this ‘Captain’ stuff, okay?”

“…”

“Remember what I said? Formalities get in the way of getting to know people. I mean, unless you call all your friends ‘Captain’ because, if so…”

“What?! No, not at all! It’s just, you really want to be my… friend?”

“Why not? I think we make a pretty cool team.”

“B-but I’m not a Guardsman yet! I haven’t been trained in honorable combat! I haven’t even—”

“—Papyrus.”

“Yes, Capta-, er, Undyne?”

“Permission to be your friend?”

“P-p-p-p-permission granted!!”

…—If I became the best Friend I could be…Then, maybe, I wouldn’t have to worry about him quite as much.

[juliusgermani]

Backyard Quail-Are They Really Worth It?

Raising quail for meat and eggs in your backyard has become a fun hobby for many urban homesteaders. Backyard quail are small, take up little precious room, and you can have eggs and meat year round. Quail can go from hatch to butcher weight in 6 weeks. During that time, they eat much less than the average meat chicken. Backyard quail also begin laying eggs at 6 weeks of age, average versus the average hen being 18-22 weeks of age. Some homesteaders are even able to sell their quail eggs, and quail egg prices can bring a $3-$10 per dozen. Backyard quail do have a lot of drawbacks. For some, raising quail is just not worth the benefits. A small fortune can be spent on backyard quail cages, special waterers, hatching equipment and so on. Is the return on investment really worth the trouble of raising quail? Here’s some issues to consider when thinking of raising a backyard quail flock.

Problem #1 with backyard quail-they poop a lot.

When raising quail, it is shocking just how much poop even a small flock of backyard quail can produce. Like chicken manure, you cannot put it straight on the garden. It has to be composted for several weeks to several months, depending on your weather conditions. Be sure you know where it will go. There will be bedding such as pine shavings, corn cob husks, or sawdust mixed in with the feces. Truly, there is no easy way to separate that out, either. My small flock of 34 backyard quail birds filled 2-50# feed sacks with manure and bedding in ONE WEEK – every week! Be sure to have a plan for all that waste.

Check to make sure the bedding you are using doesn’t create soil issues in your garden as pine shavings, sawdust, and wood ash can be acidic and crushed corn cob takes years to decompose. Conduct soil tests before adding it to your garden.

If you don’t have a suitable place to dispose of it, start a compost heap (in advance) outdoors and away from your house, garage, or other dwellings. If you are in the burbs and have limited space, line up a farmer/homesteader friend who has plenty of space and arrange to bring it to them at least twice a month.

With feed waste mixed in, if you leave it sit around your property for too long, the smell will become overwhelming. The other problem is you will draw mice, rats, possums, raccoons, and other vermin. Once they discover the flock, the vermin may even attempt to gain access to the backyard quail themselves. If successful, they will destroy an entire flock of backyard quail.

Problem #2 with raising quail- The Health Department.

If word or odors get out, or vermin get in, neighbors may complain to your local authorities. Check your local laws regarding gamebirds (some localities classify quail differently than chickens), backyard poultry, and other small livestock. Raising quail can be under different laws than raising chickens.

Find out what permits, inspections, etc you are legally obligated to comply with. This may include required inspections from any of several local or state authorities, most likely the health department. Failure to comply with their rules, permit inspections, or correct any infractions can mean fines, confiscation of your flock and even have charges filed against you. Understand the law in your area!

In many areas, it is ILLEGAL to sell your backyard quail eggs and/or meat without inspections, permits/licenses, and compliance with local health regulations. Your quail eggs and quail meat must be properly handled, cleaned, packaged, labeled, and refrigerated/frozen according to local laws. Stores and restaurants will ask see evidence of your compliance or they will refuse your products. They too must follow the law and purchase ONLY from licensed vendors. Otherwise, they cannot legally resell it.

Problem #3 with raising quail-cage cleaning.

The microscopic particles of fecal matter mixed with urine, ash or sawdust (from their baths), and feed from your backyard quail flock creates dust that can send those with respiratory issues into sneezing fits or asthma attacks. To help prevent issues, you can try these ideas:

Work in an open, well ventilated area. If your cage is indoors, set up a box fan (with a furnace filter taped to the back) and point it so it pushes the dust OUT the door.

Wear a high quality, air filter mask OR at the very least, wrap a bandana around you nose & mouth and keep your mouth closed. Quail can sling poop for several feet. Given the right aim for them and wrong place/wrong time for you, they can get you right in the face. I have had it happen. Keep your mouth closed/covered and be ready to DUCK!

When finished, remove all your clothing, put it straight in washer, and shower including a shampoo. Why? I failed to do that several times and later that day, I could smell and urine in my hair for hours. Maybe you aren’t as sensitive, but it did cause an asthma attack for me, too.

Once a month (two months TOPS), you will likely want to power wash the quail cage to remove the caked on, dried feces that has built up on the frame & hardware cloth.

Place the quail in a temporary holding pen or cage, give them food and water.

Take the cage outdoors away from cars & buildings to power wash it. The flow on a standard garden hose won’t cut it, you will need a power washer.

After initial rinse, use a pressure sprayer with a hot water and bleach solution to spray it down, let sit for a few minutes.

Rinse and repeat until clean. If you use a scrub brush, make sure it has a long handle because a brush makes the feces fly right back in your face.

Allow to dry in the sun for several hours before returning the birds to their habitat. A fan can speed up the drying process, too.

Problem #4 with backyard quail- feed waste.

When raising quail, there is a feed involved. Quail (like any poultry) like to play with their food and as much feed is kicked out of the feeder onto the floor as goes into their bellies. Half of the feed can easily be wasted, regardless of what feeder you use.

It can’t be fed back to them if it is mixed with feces, but at least the powder that is left behind in their feeder or the bottom of the still clean feed bag can be run through a large metal sieve (like this one from my affiliate partner) and turned into mash. To your backyard quail flock, it is a special treat. To you, it is feed cost savings. Don’t waste it.

Problem #5 raising quail-they can be vicious with each other.

Some quail can be vicious cannibals. Once one draws blood on another and the whole flock smells blood, bad things can happen FAST. They will ALL gang up on the weak one giving you an entire flock of bullies. Have a couple pet carriers or other alternative housing available so that you can separate out the injured from the bullies and nurse them back to health.

Sadly though, in my experience, when you get them patched up and reintroduce them to the flock, it is just a matter of time until it happens again. They remember.

Problem #6 with backyard quail-they can fly.

Unlike chickens, quail are pretty good flyers and can go quite high, far, and fast. Either clip their wings or always have a secondary means to block exits when handling them. Quail cages should be built to be no no taller than 18 inches as well, because they can attempt to fly and get hurt on the top of the cage.

Problem #7 raising quail- the constant maintenance.

Quail can never run out of clean, fresh water. Like with any livestock, you will need a means by which to keep it from freezing in winter. If you cannot do that, then you will need to thaw and refresh their water at least 3-4 times a day.

Also note, they poop in their water so a nippled system is best (like this one from my affiliate partner). They will poop in their food as well, so you will need to monitor that closely to keep it clean.

In short, many feel that backyard quail really are NOT a good choice for inexperienced city folks. The return from the amount of time spent just isn’t worth it. When raising quail for profit, many are left in debt rather than profitable.

How do you feel about backyard quail? Are you going to try raising quail on your homestead?

the post first appeared on thehomesteadinghippy.com See it here

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