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OVERDUE DRUNK ENTRY:
“ I think most people spend a lot of time pretending not to be
animals. That’s the nature of being professional.
Some
people have real meaning in their lives. Few, I think. Others fill it
up with so much they can ignore the fact that it means nothing, and
the rest of us just numb ourselves with drugs and TV and buying stuff.
It’s hard to live seeing things as they are... It means you have to do something really worthwhile, or just be miserable. ”
- Guess Who
Against my better judgement, I decided to write.
Writing has become one of my only forms of consolation,
and no matter how many pathetically depressing entries I write
(and feel guilty about),
I can't but help do what makes me feel better.
"Well then why make it public?"
Probably because I have nothing to hide.
Do I care if people know almost every aspect about me?
Not really.
"So what do you want to reveal today, Mr. Sweeney?"
Mainly to point out how much my cat seems to know me.
I was falling out of my throne of a work chair,
and I made cross-eyed contact with her.
After a pause, she let out a consoling "mew,"
and preceded to jump on my lap and kiss my face.
It was cathartic, troublesome, and somehow funny.
If we're all animals, and I strive for some sort of acknowledgement,
can it be appeased by a simple housepet?
Apparently it can, and that's the troublesome element.
What is it that I strive for, and why is it both so complex
and yet so simple that a dumb animal can provide it?
Just attention? Is that ALL I fucking want?
Is this some tabloid where I just want to be loved?
Maybe... Maybe? ... Maybe.
My life is nothing but possiblys, sometimes, and maybes.
I lost my train of thought (AKA, I lost my buzz).
Maybe? I need a Maeby.
Her wit was hot
(But no cousin-love, thank you).
Fuck Facebook.
P.S. Sorry to everyone I ever made
uncomfortable at a party... LOL!
*fart*
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I've been nominated for the
President's Award at my school.
I got on the elevator and laughed my ass off.
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I don't know if it was the drugs, the liqour, my sudden exposure,
but I've lost something. Something very important is gone.
I'm not the same person I used to be, and I
don't mean it in the goddamn pop song way.
I lost something, and I want it back.
My emotions used to be very definable.
Happiness.
Sadness.
Fear.
Now I just feel indifference and lust.
Am I becoming more of an animal? More mature?
More apathetic? More unhinged?
Or was it the drugs? Did I get off them too soon?
Did they affect me worse than I thought? Was my fear true?
How can one feel life if he can't feel fear?
I've wanted to be someone different.
I've wanted to be me, but a someone.
Now I just want to be me.
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My Greatest Wish: A Selfish Portrait
Ready or not, here we come.
May 14, 2008
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I took a trip to New York yesterday.
Although there were much better things I thought I could be doing,
my teacher highly recommended that I visit some studios.
Nickelodeon:
We got a tour by the very nice Sean McBride,
who graduated from my school in 2002.
His junior piece "That Special Monkey"
won a Student Academy Award.
He is now the lead director on a new Nick, Jr. show.
I forget the name, but it looked fun- For kids, at least.
Curious Pictures:
We got a tour from Kia, who graduated in 2005.
She was the lead animator on a new adaptation
of "The Princess Bride" (which is news to me).
Kia was very energetic, just like the rest
of the animators. They tested their new Rock Band
animations by playing intense rounds during lunch
(they do a lot of "mocap" work for the guitar games).
Pat Smith (Blend Films):
My idol.
Forget famous stars and directors. I got star struck by
this guy. The writer, animator, director (everything)
of such great work as "Puppet," "Drink" and "Handshake,"
Pat Smith is living the dream of animators-
He does his own, independent work in New York.
Plus, he claims that he "doesn't like Flash very much,"
wants to take animation out of the "kiddy" taboo,
and insists on animating everything himself, ON PAPER.
I could hug him.
With the industry going all digital, churning out
mechanically-animated shit like candy,
this guy is from the old, traditional world I love.
And he's young, handsome
and has a cute coworker/girlfriend.
Damn.
Just as I had arrived, I left New York
sitting on the bus alone, sleeping as much as possible.
By the time I got home, I was hungry as hell, so I
went and ordered some Chinese food.
The walk there had me swimming in envy and anger.
Anger that I don't have the energy of these people...
the motivation, the drive, whatever you want to call it.
People tell me that I have the talent,
but that's all I have.
P.S. Pat Smith also created the familiar Zoloft campaign:
How ironic...
There's a lot more I'd like to say, but for once feel hesitant.
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