Geek Speaking the Horror of Noms

Geek Speak: Walk with the Animals, Talk with the Animals...

The problem with being able to understand the "speech" of animals is that you might not want to know what they have to say. Cats in particular. Cats are vicious bastards.

In any big city it's impossible to go anywhere without encountering some manner of local urban fauna. It could be anything from the much maligned city pigeon (in the event of the apocalypse remember; pigeons are made of meat), to the universal flea-bitten street cat, to even wilder critters such as coyote, raccoon, and snakes. For someone in our hero's position this makes the simple act of getting a cart full of alcohol home with so he can get obliterated like running the gauntlet on an episode of "Wild Kingdom: Los Angeles."

There were some interesting challenges in drawing this strip. We see the action at different "angles," from very wide, to very close, to looking up at the "hero" in a moment of horror. I'm starting to understand why Bill Watterson allegedly lamented backgrounds in comic strips as a dying art. It's difficult to draw backgrounds that enrich the world of the comic and add a feeling of authenticity. Most likely I'm going to need to take some time and go out into my community and draw some store fronts.

Down Time
This post has been a long time coming, and future posts may also be delayed. The reason is I'm adjusting to being responsible for not one, but two small people-pupae. My wife and I welcomed our second child on September 18th at 8:30 at night. He was born at 5 pounds, 13 ounces, 20 inches long...and two-and-a-half weeks pre-term.

He was born by emergency c-section after a friend rushed my wife to the hospital. I met them there after receiving a text message no one, but expectant fathers in particular, should ever have to read from someone for whom they care deeply. It was simple, and chilling, "Come home now. Bleeding lots. Hospital."

Mildly Sensational...needs a new handle. My wife is incredible, and there's nothing mild about that. Six weeks on I'm still awed by her courage and resolve in the face of something so deeply and personally frightening. She barely let on that she was scared through the entire event. Her strength gave me the resolve I needed to hang by her side and contribute in whatever small way I could.

The rest of that day is a blur. I can only hope that I actually performed as a husband and father as well as my extraordinarily hazy recollections would seem to indicate. It didn't hit me until much later how close I came to losing both my wife and our son; how close my world came to ending. I won't dwell on that. In the end our son is healthy and amazing, and mildly sensational is healing up nicely.

I'm left with the problem of finding a way to thank our very good friend Phoenix for all her help at what is, without question, one of the most critical moments of our lives. When we needed someone to step in and save the day, she was there. She put aside whatever else she needed to do that day, whatever else she was dealing with, and pushed through some personal boundaries to  be there for us when we needed someone the most. Words don't convey thanks in adequate measure for such selflessness.

Our son was early enough that he didn't get to come home right away, and ended up spending some time in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). That is a scary experience. You're forced to place a tiny, extremely fragile new life in the hands of others, and stand helplessly by while they buzz around your baby in a smooth dance of professional detachment.

Since coming home we have been thrust hardcore into full-time baby-management mode. By full time I mean "around-the-clock." Our experience with our son could not be more different from the early days with our daughter. She always slept easily and deeply, and rarely fussed in her sleep. She fed easily without the need for a lot of coaxing. There was never a need for both of us to be up every time she needed to be fed, changed, or anything else. Preemies are...different...more demanding.

There is a space beyond simple fatigue that you reach after weeks of sleep deprivation. It's a place where you can operate at a functional level even when your head is buzzing from lack of sleep. I think it's a place only parents, and military personnel training for, or already in combat, ever come to know. Every fiber of your being is screaming for sleep, but there's stuff that has to be done, so you push those thoughts of bed and comfort from your mind and you wash bottles for the third time that day.

For all that we're not sleeping, and for all that the last few weeks have been a trial, I think it was worth it. I look into my son's eyes as he drinks in the world around him and begins to understand it, and I lose myself. Time flies by and it's just me with my baby boy in my arms.

Geek Speaking the Thirteenth Anniversary Bus

Geek Speak: Another one rides the bus

This one was so long delayed because I've been working with learning my Wacom tablet, and it's slow going, but so far I'm pleased with the results. One thing I have found is that I'm working way too hard on these. If you look at the full-sized version you'll see some effort went into shading and lighting. I finally had to decide between getting the cartoon exactly where I wanted it, or to just go with as much of it as I had done. The latter seemed like the best prospect for actually publishing. 

I looked at some other black and white comics out there, and I went back through my big book of Bloom County strips. For the most part comic strip artists seem to do pretty minimal shading. Most don't go much further than the pretty minimal shading in the big panel. To find that balance between getting something I can be proud of and publishing on some kind of schedule I'm going to have to tinker with how much shading I do for each. 

For the next strip I think I will take a break from the grocery store. I want to draw some other things for a couple of strips before we come back and visit these characters again. 

Big Thirteen

I can't let this day pass without writing something about how important July 15th is to me. On that day thirteen years ago Mildly Sensational and I stood on the shore of a mountain lake high above Denver and pledged to love, honor, and cherish each other for the rest of our lives. Our ceremony didn't actually include those words, but that was the meaning regardless of the actual prose. 

At the time we were both twenty-three, and I was just barely out of college. Mildly Sensational would still be in school for another semester. We were two kids just starting out, and making the biggest step either of us had ever tried up to that point. It was funny, scary, and joyous. The most important thing, though, is that we were taking it together. 

People in love say they've married their best friend. In our case I don't think it's true, because it doesn't go deep enough. I don't know if even my best friends will come to know me as deeply as my wife. She has seen me at my very best, and at my very lowest. She's laughed at my bad jokes, been angry with me when I've done something stupid, weathered my mistakes, held me on the few occasions when I couldn't contain anymore feeling and had to break down and cry, and been proud of me the rare occasions I break away and do something amazing. 

Did I marry my best friend? No. I found a missing piece of my own being. One who was searching for a fragment of her own self. We held each other and didn't let go, and thus made ourselves whole. 

That is what my wife makes me feel. The other emotions are there, too; the love, the anger, the joy, the sadness, and the silliness. All of that is great, but the important thing is that when I am with Mildly Sensational I am most myself. I am complete.

After thirteen years of marriage I can still say I've found the love of my life. You complete me, Amanda. 

I love you.