Have you ever been pulling into your driveway and suddenly, as your putting your car in park, your mind goes blank?

You find yourself looking around you while thinking in the most disconnected fashion: "This is my life". You recall the nights spent at your home or out with friends, the material possessions you cherish, the pet that waits for you at this very moment at your front door.

Yet, strangely, it all seems quite distant as you sit there, one leg already swung out of the driver-side door and the other planted firmly on the carpeted floor.

Perhaps it is at that moment that you see your neighbor pulling into their parking spot and climbing the front stairs to reach their door.

Your neighbor is quite purposeful, keys jangling and various bags or books jostled from one hip to another as the door is unlocked. They don't seem to be suffering from your momentary lapse from active reality.

It is in this strange moment, with the world slightly hazy yet startling clear to your eyes and muffled to your ears, that you come to a jolting realization.

This is a realization that you have always logically known and that you always have creep up on you in moments like these at least three times a year. Nonetheless, each time it is always a powerful jolt to your system, a freight train in your chest, a moment that freezes (however briefly) time itself.

You are sentient.

You are not your neighbor, jangling keys and jostling books. You are not your boss with his comb over and bad puns. You are not the annoyed grocery store clerk that hands you the change after you pay for a pack of gum with a twenty.

Whatever thought processes or experiences that define you are lodged behind your eyes, peering out at the world like one would through a window. At this moment you are not one with your body, you can feel yourself inside the flesh, but are not comprised solely of it. You know, inexplicably and without plausible explanation, that you are more than flesh and synapses.

What random process placed you in this body, this life, instead of that person's or that one? How many seemingly random, possibly miraculous occurrences collided to create this amalgam of thoughts and emotions that equal you?

It is a moment of strange, almost translucent clarity. The world is suddenly larger, more expansive, and holds so much more wonder than it did seconds ago.

Snap! And just like a rubber band, everything contracts and you feel normal once again. You shake your head, grin self consciously at your foolishness and climb the stairs to your door. Perhaps you even jangle your keys a bit.

As you step inside your foyer, your pet greeting you enthusiastically, perhaps you sigh a little. Happy to be home, but still strangely offbeat. And as you put your keys away and pet the pooch, a tired thought pops into your head...

"There has got to be more to life than this."

Suffer from my art! Muwhaahahah. *thunder clap*



The beginning of my cute little Gryphon head. I finished it, but didn't scan the full image.



Yes, I know it's sideways. I didn't feel like rotating it prior to uploading it to the gallery. *ahem* I'm a lazy bug tonight. And, yes, it is an incomplete doodle so her little toes and the rest of her body lack proper shading and shaping.



Close-up.

Tada. The end.

I would wreck vengeance on the following people today (I blame this on my failure to imbibe coffee as of yet):

*The stupid twit on the highway that pulled in front of me and then proceeded to diddle down the road at 40 miles an hour.

*The McDonalds cashier that asked me three times what I wanted, took my card, and then forgot that she hadn't even turned on her register for the day.

*The balding man in the black zippy Porsche that broke the sound barrier on my way to work. Why? Because my Nissan, upon witnessing this vehicle of divine mechanical perfection, spiraled down into a dark miasma of manic depression.

*My roommate last night for stomping, stamping, slamming, muttering and generally acting like a two year old with a soul patch having a hissy fit. I fully expected him to drop to the floor at any moment while kicking out with his arms and legs spasmodically.



I need a pillowcase and a couple of plump oranges. I have to go and rectify my violent Friday mood.

Before I go, however, I must present...

My Friday Deny Five

1.) I deny taking my dog by the front paws and waltzing in the living room while watching "George of the Jungle".

2.) I deny falling while going up the stairs, spilling an armload of books and dropping my glasses like Velma.

3.) I did not brush my dog only to have all of his shed fur that I removed blow back in my face in one giant fuzzy mass.

4.) I deny driving around for six months with a box of 1st edition DnD books in my trunk - being too forgetful (and lazy) to drag them up the three flights of stairs to my apartment.

5.) I deny that my car is more fur than metal at this point.

I learned last night that I cannot successfully cook spinach and make it palatable. The end result of my spinach induced labor was a slimy substance that looked like algae, tasted like drain-o, and managed to frighten not only the dog, but the fish as well.



I also beg someone, anyone to please help me! I have, of all the songs in the world, Boogey Nights stuck in my head! I woke up with it and it won't leave.



Boogey Nights! Dun, dun, dundundun!

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

There are several unstated rules that every office worker operates under.

Rule #1.) Every office workers day will start out great if they can make it to their cubicle without any human contact.

Human contact prior to arrival at one's desk always involves one of the following scenarios:

*A coworker has called out sick and their project is passed on to you.
*A coworker wants to go into agonizing detail about his or her night leaving you screaming internally for your first cup of coffee and the sanctity of your carpet padded cubicle walls.

Rule #2.) Every officer worker must have at least one Dilbert cartoon posted on their cubicle walls.

A Dilbert cartoon is the most passive aggressive weapon available to an office worker.

Rule #3.) Every office worker must keep their desk in such a state of chaotic flux that it could be deemed a fire hazard at any given moment.

If one's desk is neat, organized and pristine, it is a guarantee that management will take this as a sign that the worker in question obviously does not have enough work and will take projects from the other "harried" employees.

Rule #4.) When passing one another in the hallway, workers must suddenly find important interest in the floor, walls, adjustment of clothing, or a cell phone.

By making eye contact, the office worker is guaranteeing that they will be trapped in a conversation that exceeds the pre-requisite "Good morning". Refer to Rule #1 scenarios for more detail.

The Office: An environment that loudly promotes the advantages of teamwork in such a manner as to eventually turn every employee into a reclusive introvert incapable of normal human interaction. Every meeting rides an undercurrent of fear that more mundane and trivial projects will be heaped upon the workers, that every conversation will turn into an hour long monologue about someone's "dear, sweet, precious" pet/significant other, and that escape is impossible until one turns seventy-five whereupon irrepearable damage has been ingrained into the psyche (such as always answering one's personal phone with, "Thank you for calling ________. How may I help you?").