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Saturday, February 6, 2010

How Not to Write a Webcomic

1) Upload it too small, and not in the original resolution
2) Don't seperate the panels enough, so people can't read what's going on.
3) Confuse the heck out of people by putting the blocks of text in the wrong place.

The final way not to write a webcomic is to talk about something else after you've uploaded it. I will demonstrate.

The snow here has given me ample time to contemplate, and to slip into that strange other-world we call sleep. In the otherworld, time spent with people we love expands, but our worst fears come true at the same time, so really, the other-world is just a caricature of the wake-world. I am simply astounded by dreaming and how it works, both in sleep and in awareness.

I stayed awake last night until five in the morning yesterday watching A-team, drinking milk, playing card games with friends and listening to a dreamer speak. It has been eons since I have heard dreams and ideas put out the way this dreamer put them out, and I could vividly feel and hear all his dreams in my mind as I watched him throw the tale into the air with his body and mouth. It made me remember happiness of the purest, most content kind and I slowly began to feel something itching away at that bitterness I've felt about humanity. It also made me remember passions and dreams.

I sometimes have vivid dreams that stay with me forever. More recently I have faded versions of good dreams and bad dreams. I hate the fade-out, the blurry edges. I hate it in both worlds, but most of all in the wake-world. Sometimes, when you define things too hard in the wake-world your other-world begins to fade, perhaps, and perhaps I've done this. Sometimes I feel haunted by what I want--the music, the writing, the school-success...the passions that I wish for don't feel like dreams anymore. They all feel heavy because I have begun to resent them.

I don't see why anyone should resent a dream, for it is the force of life that God gives to keep us from becoming empty and sucking in on ourselves introspectively, like a vacuum, and collapsing. Oh, silly girl. Stop making rules where there are none, and bitterness where there need be done, and live a life contemplating beauty, not ugliness.

Oh, and my story is still waiting for you, by the way, reader. I haven't forgotten.

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