It’s weird to think just how old I am yet how young I am at the same time. It’s a real mind fuck. As well as this domain being as old as fucking Facebook (it’s technically younger by like seven months as Zuck’s domain was in April of 2004 and this one in November of the same year) yet I have tried for too damn long to update my end of Zucker’s microblogger megaadvertising slop rather than update this one. With his site pushing certain oddities onto me I say no more! I have this crown jewel of my entire online presence (it’s the oldest active piece of me on this world wide web, after all) as well as an… “extension” of sorts to plop my art on. As is I plan to transition EVERYTHING I EVER MADE ART WISE FROM EVERYWHERE to that domain over time, and exclusively update that domain first and see if whatever I made is worth uploading to the rest afterwards. As is I plan to not delete my socials and whathaveyou.. for archive sake on top of not allowing a means for dipshits to impersonate me, which believe me, is a bigger problem than I want to even acknowledge. I’m not going to promise regular updates on here, or anywhere really. I mean, for fuck’s sake, it’s been a “promise” that became a fucking running gag with one of my oldest series I eventually plan to reboot a second time. I am of course referring to The Whirled Report… formally known as Weekly Whirled Report.. and honestly during the original reboot, didn’t do too bad actually trying to maintain those weekly drops, however, it’s obviously something I was never great at doing, for valid reasons or just pure apathetic laziness, if I’m going to be blunt on that. Going back to the original feelings that sparked this entry.. I was working on an easter egg of sorts for way too damn long than it realistically should have, however the extended time came from two causes:
1. Stuck using Ubuntu instead of Windows for creative software due to my poor Bohemian ass being unable to afford even a cheap ass computer with the requirements for that damned 11 (Not chancing having stuck with Windows 10 from October last year on due to a random cyber attack every so often, even though I could have found a way to maintain it safely, didn’t trust my situation to maintain what I needed to maintain)
and 2. Didn’t quite realize quite how out of touch my Hall of Oates ass truly is… like the HTML code I initially used was way outta time.. like it was OG HTML I learned from Funky Chickens (actually visited it whilst typing this outta curiosity… and while it’s actually still online… because it hasn’t been updated since November 23, 2006 according to the site it broke at some point and is practically unusable.. sad really) so that was already a subconscious burn alone, however to make matters worse I didn’t realize at some point autoplaying media with sound enabled is a universal no-no now. Like I was scratching my head wondering if my code wasn’t working and apparently it was, just the browsers did not honor that outdated slop my stubborn ass churned out. So I ultimately had to redesign what I had in mind for the easter egg to be more modern and actually able to be not only used, yet enjoyed. And don’t worry, it doubles as the redirected page for the 404 error, god forbid your dumbass doesn’t know how to properly punch in an actual live and existing URL, at least you’d have a decent laugh. And at the end of the day (or beginning rather considering the time I’m writing this) laughing is a much, much needed and highly desirable commodity to get myself through this fucking muck I’m in. I may blog about bits and pieces or another brain dump a la this post sometime in the near future to just put it out there for those interested, on top of archive sake, of course. Until then, I can only hope for a Green Day as my jaded brain stews on this holiday down the boulevard of broken dreams to wake me up when this bender ends.
Tag: ranting and raving
Home is where the Constable Is
It’s been over a week since I lost my home for the second time. I have lost it due to my mother’s neglect of essential bills, lending money to me sister, buying Amazon and eBay’s entire stock, and that crack addict of a neighbors’ thievery of $569. I have gotten into a fight with my sister’s husband a little over a month ago, and fate has landed me at their doorstep. I don’t beg: Never have, never will. My mother and sister bargained with my brother-in-law to allow me into their home due to “extraordinary” circumstances. Since then my sister’s home has been one clusterfuck of a mess with 7 people and 10 cats, not to mention the other members of the Animal Kingdom residing in each room. The deal allowing me to stay required me to stay in one of the kid’s bedrooms the entire time, the exception being let out to help with whatever needs doing. I have been steadily losing my patience being in one room dealing with a family that treats me lower than one of the ten million family pets. Christ, the damn cats get better treatment than me as they get what they need ASAP. Meanwhile I just got shoes today I have been needing for almost 2 years now. I have been thinking once I do gain the ability to leave and support myself on my own to just disown my family due to the treatment I have suffered that they not only strongly deny, but justify the wrongs the bestowed upon me. I realize I am not a nice person: Never Have, Never Will. The only exception being is if I like you, otherwise you are a sack of shit for me to demean. That being said, it is probably a way of putting off the suffering I endured on to someone else. Home has never been kind to me, no matter where or what my home is. I will most likely never settle down, just move on to new and different places whilst burning the bridges I come across in the process.
Until next time,
Ronzil
Ramp Up the Cramped Space
I’ve been focusing on a few of my problems and thus far, only one has been solved… partially. The problems are as follows: Confront my brother-in-law and admit and discuss our problems, and how we can better ourselves. I admitted my flaws, but I couldn’t bring myself to confront my brother-in-law on his due to my fear of the problems becoming physical. The other problem is a doozy. Making the most of what little space we have in this rat’s nest we call an apartment. The problem doesn’t lay within the boundaries of moving furniture around, it lays within getting the approval of my mother to do so. She says nobody moves anything around except my sister, or else she calls the police. Well hot damn! No wonder this shithole looks the way it does. I tried time and time again, but alas, I couldn’t really make any progress without threats from my mother. That, me living in the living room, and the landlord making false promises about a bigger apartment are setting me over the edge. I honestly don’t know what to do anymore when I get up out of bed. It’s getting to the point where playing games are not soothing the seething pain I endure day in and day out. Not that I make it any better. Hopefully that landlord, who dresses like an 1980’s druglord, makes good on his promise.