You leave work, friends, and family for two weeks to take a road trip cross-country to AC and apparently the world doesn't actually put itself on hold. I feel like I haven't had spare time in a while, and my hours are still taken most of this next week, but I need to get the awesome commissions I've got done put up here so I can show'em off. Need to.

(Not Really) Tough Questions
Journal by: Deral
This morning I got an email- a variant sort of interview for a promotion, a test, all filled with hypothetical questions asking for lengthy quick-what-call-do-you-make decision making answers. I've been stressing over them for half the day and they're finally done and sent in, probably the first test I've stressed over since... well, since I can remember. Now I'm back to what I was stressing about before: AC2011! I have badges coming in (soon, hopefully, excited) and they'll be the first art I've ever had done, but I want to get work commissioned, or, well, more badges (as I hear you can never have too many) but I'm a commission virgin, never done it before and like my awkward, squeaky-voiced stereotype counterpart, I'm about as confident and sure of what to do as a zombie on a robot planet. It seems like it's a major decision but it's a bit strange sitting down and writing the detailed minutiae of my appearance, and I always feel like it'd be too much or too little. I just need to find a good artist I can sit down with and throw ideas at to get things started, but it always seems like all the artists are taken.


Crippling Nostalgia
Journal by: Anyon
It's just not fair that my first journal is a wistful and regretful one, as the bouncy raccoon I think I should take offense but...
Ya ever get suddenly overwhelmed by an emotion? Sometimes things just trigger memories and waves of nostalgia or this longing of form and environment wash over me. The former, nostalgia, hit me early this morning and the latter swept in out of nowhere and I could feel my knees quiver in weakness.
I speak internally to myself about this or that, what might need done, what might need written and suddenly my senses and thoughts are overwhelmed with longing, driven by images of wood paneled walls, white-draped amber glass windows, ruddy-hued tile that feels almost soft velvet on bare feet, or smooth knot-covered lacquered wood floors that toes just can't help but explore the deepest reaches of. Miniature trees spun from twisted silver wire, heavy iron and stained glass lamps resting upon sturdy mahogany pedestals. The sow, deliberate ratcheting of an ancient cuckoo clock hung alongside an ornate ancestral grandfather clock, the padding rhythms of a low hanging fan, it's dim yellow-orange light casting a caramel hue across the room and the soft humid air warm with the coarse, heady scent of home cooked cobbler, that rolling smell that creamily resonates in the back of your throat, bringing your mouth to water. Somewhere, some rooms away the distant sound of muffled laughter, casual banter, a sense of love and ease in every dampened voice, the echoed sound of children playing in brilliant green grass beyond screen doors and covered patios, the bird's bubbling song, the dog's rounded bark, the kick of dirt and crunch of gravel.

And from there, what? I become self aware of my state, I think about the feeling rather than the images that prompts them and it brings out in my thoughts those phantoms that draw the strongest tap on that throat-tightening, knee-weakening, chest-crushing feeling and before you know it, it's all I can think of.

Title Here
Journal by: Grey
I'm not exactly a big fan of journals, they remind me of the many sites the users of which I casually made jokes about in high school. So what do I have to talk about? I got up at 4 this morning to go to work, and only half of us actually show up on time, me and one other guy- now we can run the place by ourselves just fine, but the person with the key to let us in? Yeah she's one of those who decided not to show. We had to go around to the front of the building and wait for the wonderful people at the front desk to let us in before we open at 5 so we can get everything set up and what do they do? Remind me of something I hate- they don't ignore us, they never give themselves to chance to ignore us- they avoid looking forward at all costs so as to never make eye contact with the people waiting at the door, can we call them to get in? Sure, but they ignore the phones until they open, are you really so embarrassed or ashamed that you can't let anyone in that you've trained yourself to walk around like you've got blinders on? This isn't even a good social construct for me to be angry about! If I'm going to be ranting should be ranting about things with meaning not the fear-induced compensation of a few random jerks.

So I won't rant.

Except fewer people laugh at my cheesy jokes, and I neither make millions of dollars or ruin actors.

Here's my placeholder first journal. Haven't got much to say except I'm trying to find myself a clearer place in the ol' community. Despite the nature of Deral, Grey, and Anyon I don't make any attempt to claim multiple personalities, they're kind of formed to represent mood swings, I suppose, and hopefully things will get clearer as they go along.

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