McJaews

I love doing lineart! It's the strangest thing. I've heard from many of my fellow deviants that lineart is a hateful thing and something they mostly find incredibly boring. It could be because sketching allows for flow of creativity and lineart is very slow and restrictive, but I just love doing it and then looking at the finished product, thinking I've turned something messy into something great!

I still have yet to get good at line weight, but I'm steadily improving.

Am I the only one to see lineart as something incredibly therapeutic and lovely?

I am awfully lax for someone i'm my situation. I suspect that it's the money that are still in the bank that keep me from going insane with anxiety. I'll read, I'll watch, I'll scribble, and I'll play, but I won't work, and that's the thing that's currently killing me. There's something unnerving about staring into the near future, knowing that it'll be miserable and full of self-doubt, self-loathing, and disappointment in the eyes of all the people who love me, and have been supporting me, and I simply cannot bring myself to work at anything. To prosper, one must first progress through hard work. The harder the work, the greater presumably the reward. I've worked hard on my relationship, and it's the most glorious part of my life now. This should serve as an example of how rewarding it is to receive the bounty of your work every day, but it's just not doing it. No matter how hard I try to get started I get blocked off at every single obstacle I meet. Should I start working on a webcomic? No! I can't draw in any way that feels like an expression of myself, I can't do lineart, I can't shade or color, I can't write a long coherent story with enough comedy and depth to rival some of my idols, I can't compose windows and strips, I can't, I can't, I can't...
It's not like I'm just whining for no reason either. "Just get off your ass and get to work on learning what you need to learn, and stop bitching!" any sane person would blurt out, in an attempt at spurring me on, or merely in an attempt at making me shut up about my excuses. But the words don't stay with me as a source of inspiration, not as a carrot, nor as a whip. I've heard them spoken to me and seen them written to me from many well meaning people ever since I was a small child, and by now I'm reciting them to myself. I'm scolding myself internally from the moment I wake up and until the moment I fall asleep. When I dream, I dream of people I know care about me and support me, that tell me how I'm a failure and a waste of their time and resources. The only time I'm not in my own head is when I'm with my girlfriend. I focus on her needs and on what's needed for our day to work out. I don't know what I would do without her. I'd probably be a bum. More of a bum than I already am.

Trying to find the light at the end of the tunnel is difficult since there are so many obstacles in it. It's a boring, shitty tunnel and one that I've been in for much too long.

But I'm so damn proud! Let's help b7dker at least get to the semi-finals!

fav.me/d4ye00c

Show your support of an amazing design! Llamas everywhere approve of it, and many young people strive to become it! (whatever the hell they mean by that)...


I guarantee that you will become rich and famous, and have many friends and many lulz if you like this design!

GO GO GO!!!!

My friend Christian has made a t-shirt design for the origian quotes challenge, and I'd like you all to please vote for his design. I can go as far as promising that you'll like it!

b7dker.deviantart.com

It's his first deviation, but don't be fooled. He's such a creative guy!

Go vote! And be sure to spread the word. I wish I had more watchers so I could get the word out. Help is very appreciated.

I saw a young girl at McDonald's today. She was wearing very tight dark jeans with an obvious muffin top bulging out over them. Her hair looked like it had been thoroughly kempt with a fine comb - only the wrong way - while monkeys attacked her with hairspray. Her sole (visible....) piercing was positioned in the most annoying place possible; right above the corner of her mouth, making the stud look like a wart or a pimple or maybe leftover food.
Her jacket was shiny and possibly made by a company that used to make clothes for people who like to excercise, and as such it looked as ridiculous on her as it does on any person not running or biking while wearing it.

What made her catch my eye though, was not the 1½" layer of tan, off-white powder on her face, neither was it the blank gaze of her eyes, telling me all thought had clearly abandoned her long ago, but rather something that at first made me look in whatever direction she was looking at, and then proceeded to make me really scared.

She was making duck-face.

Her lips protruded as if she was engaged in either the most passionless  kiss with an imaginary person, ever, or flirting with the back of some random person's head (equally passionless, I cannot stress how blank of a stare she had).
After a while, I came to the awful realization that she had simply perpetuated the stereotypical, teenage, duck-face making, blonde, facebook-bimbo to such an extent, as to have frozen the expression on her face - Permanently!

I was once told, as a child (perhaps in an attempt by my parents to try and trick me like normal parents do, instead of rationally explaining things to me like they usually did) that I "shouldn't make that face in case it might get stuck that way." and my life suddenly flashed before my eyes. The excitement of making a new face that made people laugh would quickly wear off and the ridicule would soon reach unbearable levels, with serious emotional scarring following in its wake. After that I would be recognized as a poor freak, and treated forever with a mix of pity and thinly veiled disgust by both strangers and close ones. The warning had freaked me out so badly that I went into the bathroom and stared at the mirror, reassuring myself that my face was back to normal, followed by a series of more "serious" faces that I practiced for quite a while, so as to have a suitable face to wear for the rest of my life, in case it cramped up that way.

Of course, after the panic had subsided I quickly realized that I had been lied to, seeing as my face was fine, and everyone else's faces were fine. My empirical analysis of the situation and eventual deduction of the facts leading to me, realizing  the truth leaves me awestruck as to my own intellectual prowess even as a small child.

Wait a second... I was wrong! Shit!

The girl gave me empirical proof that faces do get stuck when you make yourself look retarded in front of other people!

It'll be a while before I go out again...