COMMISSION INFORMATION

Hey everyone, I'm revising my policy on Commissions just for now. I'm an officer in Relay4Life, and I would like to raise at least $100 in the fight against cancer. Every bit of money I make from commissions the next few months will all go to Relay4Life.

And, I'll take fanart commissions just for this occasion.

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I have a strong dislike of odd numbers, but 17 is alright. Mainly because it's a prime number, so it's somewhat special. It also rolls nicely off the tongue, and it's quite a magical age. Not quite the hype of 16-with-your-license-and-car, nor does it elevate me above jailbait status, but it's perfect that way. No more sneaking into horror movies, for one.

I'm enjoying the last 3 hours of 16-ness, and then a brand new day will be upon me.

I'm taking some time right now to reflect on this past year. This year has been much more stagnant than any other year; I don't know if it's because I've grown more cynical, or if everything else changed. I've gotten into tons of fights with some of the people I thought I'd never, ever yell at. My hands feel foreign to me; they like to be loose when I need precision, and they tighten when I need softness. My mind feels rusty, like I'm just "doing" life. The right words slip out of my grasp, and I'm left with empty disappointment.

Yesterday we had an attempted robbery. A tall, buff man rang our doorbell many times at approximately 10 A.M. My mom, doing what she does best, pretends to not exist. She peeps through the peephole, waiting for him to leave. He does leave--for our backyard.

My mom sat down in the kitchen, streaming some illegal Chinese videos. The kitchen faces the backyard; she notices a dark shadow slide across the windows and then, to her utter horror, that same man is against one of the windows, pulling down the screen door. So, she takes her fists and pounds loudly on the kitchen table, making a loud noise that scared him. He fled.

We still haven't called the police.

The story was much more amusing than it really should have been.

I am really, really similar to that man; foiled again, goshdarnit.

This year was an "almost year." When I have a chance to win, some situation and/or person ruins it for me. When I put in more work, I lose more (but correlation is not causation, I convince myself.) I'm hoping that 2010 will speak for me. But first, I need to speak up for myself, even though I'm very, very tired.

Here's to 2010, 17, life. Hope this (even-numbered) year will work its magic.

And mostly, thanks for being my friend.

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