Having a head cold is not the same as having a cool head

 I hope you will excuse my recent absence as the New Year has brought me the opportunity to explore the staggering semi-liquid production capacity of my nasal passages in the form of a whopping great head cold.  A journey which I continue this morning.  

I have also been struck by the amazing resistance, which my affliction exhibits, to all forms of remedy, store bought names, generics, and home styled.  No matter the active ingredient, nor the manufacturer, all seem to be totally ineffective.  

At one point it was suggested that it might be an allergy and not a cold at all.  But alas, Allergy meds from A to Z have also been tried only to find their way to the kitchen dustbin in miserable failure.

Felled by my cold have been boxes of various name brand facial tissues, all of which I now equate to the coarsest and most abrasive sand paper.

No sneezing, no “itchy eye,” no fever, or ache, just a continuous production of ever changing colors and consistencies as tissues by the truckload are filled and tossed away.

So excuse me for not participating in all the resolutions, hoopla, and joy exhibited by some.  I'm just not up for it right now.  

Happy Fricken New Year.

Today is the last day of my winter vacation.

I usually take one in the summer, around the fourth of July, and one in the winter around the Christmas holiday. It's a tradition that started when my boys were young and in school. It was done so that I could be home with them.

Sometimes we take trips, sometimes not. Sometimes I get a "Honey do list", most times not. As the boys were growing we have "fed the mouse" several times and been to almost every rollercoaster park in the states. (Cedar point in Sandusky Ohio is still the champ). This year was simpler.

Things throughout this vacation were quietly busy. My wife (scenic artist) was working two shows, my eldest son drove in from New Mexico for the holiday, and my youngest started a new job. We all gathered for the traditional dinner and exchange of gifts at my Mother's house, but for the most part stayed out of each others way.

For myself I dabbled with some new ideas, watched some animation tutorials, and got my holiday cartoon up just before Christmas. I also worked on a second cartoon that I’ve been at for nearly a month. It should be done soon.

And I spent way too much time getting to know Google Plus, and twitter.

I did manage to gain only six pounds this holiday, a sum that my old three speed Beach Cruiser and I will work off without much extra effort. My annual winter cold arrived late, just before new years. It would seem that no amount of prevention can do more than postpone its arrival.

Looking back, it was a nice vacation, filled with family and friends, occasional quiet times for me to clear my mind and do whatever I liked or nothing at all. It was just nice.

But for this year, today is the last day.

Be Well.

A New Years Wish

New Years Eve has come and gone. 

Most other holidays too 

Twenty-twelve is set upon 

the start of something new.  

366 days in Twenty-twelve 

This year we take a leap 

in this prose, I will not delve 

possibilities too deep. 

 But now it's here, we intonate 

the times that we have known. 

In this year I'm fifty-eight

 my, how THAT time has flown. 

 So here we go together then 

into the void that is tomorrow. 

Hoping we will be here when 

the Maya Calendar we outgrow. 

 Be Well.

It Happened Last Christmas

I was in the middle of a different cartoon earlier this week, when I realized that Christmas was this week already and I had not done my holiday video.  Luckily I already had the story, just had to do everything else.

I hope you holidays are happy and your new year wonderfully bizarre.
Be Well.

How It's Supposed To Be

 So how it’s “supposed” to work; the idea; the story; the screenplay/script; storyboards; shot lists; character creation; cell sketches; ink; paint; camera (or digital); direction; animation; editing; and finally presentation.

That is what everything I read said.

The problem was, but the time I got through the first three or four steps, I was board with the story, I had drawn and redrawn the same characters hundreds of times and had not one finished cell to show for it.  Then other ideas get to sounding more exciting. And the project just ends up in a “I’ll finish it later” folder.

I’ve done that for nearly two years now.  Tried to follow “The Production Workflow Process.”  The problem was, I wasn’t a production house.  I was just me.  I write the script, mostly voice, direct, sketch, ink, paint, animate, edit, title, and finally publish it all.  I do get my music and extra voices from friends who are good at that sort of thing, but the final audio designs are mine as well.

This is not a brag, it’s just a fact, and a discovery.  The production process isn’t just a formula set out by years of labor in large and small production houses, it’s what works for you (me).  And I just don’t have the time, or for that matter, the attention span to go through motions that I really don’t need for what I’m working on.  I’m going back to the way I did things years ago when I was being so prolific… and having fun.

That’s not to say that I didn’t learn a thing or two.  I did.  And some of what I did is sure to affect my workflow.  I can now write and rewrite and rewrite (yawn) a script in the proper format.  I can make a storyboard of a script to see if the story moves fluidly. I can do a lot of things that I only THOUGHT I could before. 

But I’ll only use them when I need them and the story calls for them.

In the mean time, I’m going back to having fun.

The Raven- A Halloween Poem

My Halloween Cartoon.

Also my best cartoon using the multiplane 3D environment within ToonBoom.

Yellow Ink

My brand not pictured

I needed an ink cartridge.  My printer was insisting that it could not go on until the yellow ink cartridge, which had run out, was replaced.  It insisted on this even though the tax document I was attempting to print contained no yellow.

Unable to convince the stubborn machine otherwise, I headed out for our local office supply store.  The printer is not a newer unit (more than two years old...imagine), so the outlets available to buy new ink are limited.   Why not replace it with a newer model?  It works very well, it's connected to our little intranet and everyone uses it.  It also has, what seems to be a vanishing attribute, a straight through paper path.  What I mean is, the media that you are printing on does not need to bend as it moves through the printer.  This is very handy when printing business cards, clear vellum sheets for overhead projection and other media that is not simple #20 inkjet paper.

I had a different brand of printer that had only two initials as a name and it had a folding paper path.  the continual jams, stutters, and waist brought about its sad and untimely demise on the office floor.   With a few kicks to be sure the beast was dead, I went and bought the printer we are still using today.

The one that is currently out of yellow ink.

I hear on the TV and radio how poorly the economy is doing and how retailers are struggling to get by with a skeleton staff.  Its very hard for them to keep the doors open.  You could not prove it by the parking lot of the mall outside the office supply store. Its 114 degrees in the shade (of which there is none) and the lot is full to brimming over. 

Cars are parked on any available open spot, marked or not, making the search for an open spot more like the "Dodge-um" amusement park ride than a .. well... search for an open parking spot.  After circling the lot and watching the temperature gauge on my old minivan slowly climb towards the red line, I finally slip into a spot that is not completely out of sight of the office supply store.

Victory! 

"Too bad for you, slackers," I smile as other cars pass by my old van with heated scowls.  For a moment, I actually entertained the idea of realigning my parked vehicle in its spot, just to watch the circling parking piranhas come flying together only to be disappointed as my van slipped back into the same parking spot.  Muhahahaha!

But the moment passes and I pause to survey the trek ahead of me across the hot asphalt.  I should have brought water. 

And maybe a camel.

Crossing the parking lot is no easy task.  Pass between parked vehicles is safe enough, so long as you watch where and in what you are stepping.  I learned long ago the little green puddles can be as slippery as sheets of ice and catching your balance by placing bare skin on a sun baked, painted car hood can be just as painful as landing on the asphalt.  But the most dangerous by far is crossing the streams.  Referred to as "access drives" or "lanes" by the uninitiated, they are streams filled with creatures more deadly and unpredictable than anything in the rivers of Africa or the Amazon jungle... impatient drivers.   Some are on the hunt for a parking spot, others attempting to escape the mall altogether.  Each are equally desperate.  Each are equally dangerous should an opening arise with you in between them and their intended target.  Having just been one of the pack, I wave them by, patient waiting for my opening to cross. 

Sweat is running down my back as I enter the store and a chill runs through me as I plunge my body into 78 degree conditioned air.  I'm greeted with a hollow "welcome to ..." by one of the minimum wage drones behind the service counter who does not even look up to see me as she speaks.  I make no attempt to get her attention or even reply, but make my way to the aisle with its perforated gondolas filled with ink cartridges in sealed plastic hangers.  All the brands are here and even some generic refill kits.  And my brand hangs right here....

Hey.  It's gone.

"Can I help you" asks a young girl covered in her "Big Box Store" smock.

"My ink is gone," I say pointing to a display now filled with another brand.

"We moved those down here," she says as she leads me to the far end of the aisle.

"But its not here either," I say as my eyes dart from one packaged ink to another, "its the one with a guitar on the box."

"Those are over here," she says point to an opposite row.  "Personally, I don't like those because its hard to read the box."

"It has a guitar on the box.  Its the only one with a guitar on the box.  Others have horses, or butterflies, or something, but only one has a guitar on the box."  My explanation failed to impress her.  "There are only singles here," I pointed out questioningly.  "Where are the multipacks?"

"I don't know," she said, "we might have them online."

I thought of my printer which is stopped mid page and demanding an ink cartridge which it did not need.  Could it sit that way while I wait for ink to be delivered?  I shook off the thought and resigned myself to paying $20 for a single ink cartridge.  I would find the multipacks somewhere else, perhaps online...

Producing the proper "member" card saved me nothing, but it did inform the management that there was still someone stupid enough to be buying ink single packs and just who that idiot was.  I maneuvered my way back to my old van and cautiously opened the door to allow the trapped heat to escape without singeing the hair in my mustache and eyebrows.  And a mere 20 minutes later I was approaching the exit. 

Back at my office I was greeted by my printer, still stopped mid-page, its little green and red lights blinking.  I pressed the red flashing button and the ink carriage swung out into the open where I could pop out the old yellow cartridge and snap the new one into place.  The printer jumped into life and ran its cleaning cycle to bring the new cartridge online, thereby being ready to not print yellow in the twenty-five page black and white tax form still in my computers print buffer.

Cleaning...

Cleaning...

AH! Here it goes.  The print head swings into position, data begins to move, and the computer beeps and stops. 

It would seem that the head cleaning was all that remained of the light cyan.