Creating the Graphic for the Female Superheroes

So drawings are fun. They make things look pretty and easy on the eyes. But some, especially like this one, can be pain to draw. So here's some behind the scenes type stuff that might be of interest.

Rough Draft:

I always start with a rough draft to lay out what I want the drawing to look like. Small details and making it look nice and neat can be left until the later steps. A rough draft is especially important for me when drawing people because I'm absolute trash at drawing normal body proportions. This leads to most of my characters looking like midgets with heads about twice the size of their body. Not a good time.

Inking

This is where I start really developing the required style for a drawing. Since I wanted to mimic an old style comic book I varied my line density and added some solid black shapes for shadows. If I was going to do a more street art/urban style I would've crosshatched and used many thin lines without really having many solid strokes. The inking process is where the drawing starts looking much cleaner and you can really see what it is going to be. 

Color

Since this was an old style comic book, I wanted to tone in down on the amount of shading and really do block colors. When doing graphics for a newspaper you need to keep in mind that the color will be a lot less defined and darker than on your computer. Because of this I had to tweak the colors to make sure it looks as good as it possible can on the paper coming out this Friday.

On Swearing

It’s odd how just a couple of select words can become such a big part of you. Especially words

that make you sound rude, uncouth, and ill-mannered. But yet, such words have completely changed the way I talk and interact with others. I’m talking of course, about swear words. Curse words. You know, the words people yelp after stubbing their toe. The words the angry, and ridiculously intoxicated, sports fan shouts at the T.V when his team is losing. And those words that can get a certain fifth grader into major trouble when he finally gets tired of saying “jerk” and “butt”. Here’s the story of the first time that that fifth grader swore.

As a fifth grader, one doesn’t have much a life outside of class. You go to school, extracurriculars, and occasionally hang out with friends.  So when you’re at school and someone tries to disrupt that, it’s quite annoying. Especially during few classes you actually like. Especially when the person doing said disrupting is someone who you just can’t stand.

Let’s call that person Chad for two reasons. The first one being that nobody likes a “Chad”. The second reason is simply because that was his name. Now, Chad was that guy. You know, that person with that incredibly punchable face and nasally voice. The one who just seems to do everything wrong and just is incredibly annoying in every single way possible. Nobody really liked Chad. He was the loner type, putting himself into the self-enforced exile. Chad hated me especially ever since I beat him in some kind of spelling game. So he went out of his way to try and irritate me and make fun of me. This is very important later on it the story, so be sure to keep it in mind.

Now, Chad must’ve had a bad day, as he was being especially irritating today. Maybe someone spat gum in his hair or broke his favorite pencil or something. Whatever it was, the way he acted made it sound like he was hit by a truck as Chad was capital “P” pissed. The entire forty-five minute class time he was just an absolutely jerk to me. The lad grabbed my assignment papers, broke my pencils, splashed water on me, and everything his devious fifth grade mind could think of. I did my best to ignore him, but I was a very angsty little boy and wanted to get back on him, but you know, for the life of me, I couldn’t think of something to do to him.

And suddenly, it hit me. I knew how I could get him back. I prepared myself for the next time Chad would bug me, and I waited.

After two minutes of uninterrupted work time, I felt a pencil poking me in the back. And again. I turned in my seat, looked at him, then paused. I inhaled deeply, filling every nook and cranny of my lungs with air. Then released.

I started screaming every single expletive I knew at Chad, my voice rising higher and higher in pitch as my rant went on. What I said didn’t make any sense at all it was just a string of every swear word I knew. Nouns followed nouns, verbs were describing adjectives, it was just a giant jumble of venom directed towards Chad. The pure hatred coming from my mouth made him slowly wither down into his seat, making him look like the slimy toad he is. After a solid forty-five seconds of my nonstop rant, it ended as abruptly as it start. And then...

   

Silence.

   

Not a peep was uttered by anyone for what seemed like an eternity. Then I heard a snicker from the other side of the room. That seemed to break the spell, and soon everyone in the room was laughing uproariously. [strong arm- stephen walking] Everyone except for Chad.

I’d like to think he was in tears after that, but in all honesty, I have no idea what happened. I was yanked into the hallways and into a locker door, colliding with a resounding thud. When I looked behind me, I saw a sight that should’ve terrified my fifth grade self, but for some reason, didn’t. The usually heart-stopping nasty, red, wrinkly face of my middle-aged ACT teacher, looked laughable. Perhaps the extremely close encounter between my face a locker knocked some the last remaining tidbits of sense out of me, or maybe I was just feeling absolutely elated after my outburst of swearing.

Whatever it was, I didn’t hear a single coherent sentence she said; it was just a blur of words and phrases:

“Completely unlike you… Irresponsible…” I did my best not to smile and nodded along,

“Disrespectful… Absolutely intolerable…” A giggle was coming up my throat and I tried thinking of dead puppies to stifle it.

“Never would I… Poor Chad…” This was a lost cause. The moment I heard the words “poor” and “Chad” in a sentence I absolutely lost it. Tears were streaming down my face and I was cackling like a madman.

In retrospect, I feel like my teacher must’ve been hard pressed not to do the same thing. Just imagining a prepubescent child angry shouting in close to the seventh octave must’ve been something worthy of America’s Funniest Home Videos. Kudos to you Mrs. Smith for managing to keep a straight face through all this.

There’s something else I always remember about this story. The pencil Chad poked me with. That sharpened graphite tip seemed to channel everything into a point. Like a whip puts  all its force into where it strikes, the pencil did the same. All of Chad’s stupid pranks and annoyances from the past ever were behind that pencil. That’s something which stuck with me through all this. [no diggity- kygo]

Through this experience, self-reflection, and a whole load of Watsky poems, I’ve realized that I, as well as others, don’t just swear to sound cool or tough, we do it simply because we can. It gives you a feeling of liberty, to say a taboo word, and not be punished. It allows you to express your point in a way other phrases couldn’t. Who could imagine the words that people associate with the uneducated could be so meaningful and complex? 

As a fifth grader, one doesn’t have much a life outside of class. You go to school, extracurriculars, and occasionally hang out with friends.  So when you’re at school and someone tries to disrupt that, it’s quite annoying. Especially during few classes you actually like. Especially when the person doing said disrupting is someone who you just can’t stand.

Let’s call that person Chad for two reasons. The first one being that nobody likes a “Chad”. The second reason is simply because that was his name. Now, Chad was that guy. You know, that person with that incredibly punchable face and nasally voice. The one who just seems to do everything wrong and just is incredibly annoying in every single way possible. Nobody really liked Chad. He was the loner type, putting himself into the self-enforced exile. Chad hated me especially ever since I beat him in some kind of spelling game. So he went out of his way to try and irritate me and make fun of me. This is very important later on it the story, so be sure to keep it in mind.

Now, Chad must’ve had a bad day, as he was being especially irritating today. Maybe someone spat gum in his hair or broke his favorite pencil or something. Whatever it was, the way he acted made it sound like he was hit by a truck as Chad was capital “P” pissed. The entire forty-five minute class time he was just an absolutely jerk to me. The lad grabbed my assignment papers, broke my pencils, splashed water on me, and everything his devious fifth grade mind could think of. I did my best to ignore him, but I was a very angsty little boy and wanted to get back on him, but you know, for the life of me, I couldn’t think of something to do to him.

And suddenly, it hit me. I knew how I could get him back. I prepared myself for the next time Chad would bug me, and I waited.

After two minutes of uninterrupted work time, I felt a pencil poking me in the back. And again. I turned in my seat, looked at him, then paused. I inhaled deeply, filling every nook and cranny of my lungs with air. Then released.

I started screaming every single expletive I knew at Chad, my voice rising higher and higher in pitch as my rant went on. What I said didn’t make any sense at all it was just a string of every swear word I knew. Nouns followed nouns, verbs were describing adjectives, it was just a giant jumble of venom directed towards Chad. The pure hatred coming from my mouth made him slowly wither down into his seat, making him look like the slimy toad he is. After a solid forty-five seconds of my nonstop rant, it ended as abruptly as it start. And then...

   

Silence.

   

Not a peep was uttered by anyone for what seemed like an eternity. Then I heard a snicker from the other side of the room. That seemed to break the spell, and soon everyone in the room was laughing uproariously. [strong arm- stephen walking] Everyone except for Chad.

I’d like to think he was in tears after that, but in all honesty, I have no idea what happened. I was yanked into the hallways and into a locker door, colliding with a resounding thud. When I looked behind me, I saw a sight that should’ve terrified my fifth grade self, but for some reason, didn’t. The usually heart-stopping nasty, red, wrinkly face of my middle-aged ACT teacher, looked laughable. Perhaps the extremely close encounter between my face a locker knocked some the last remaining tidbits of sense out of me, or maybe I was just feeling absolutely elated after my outburst of swearing.

Whatever it was, I didn’t hear a single coherent sentence she said; it was just a blur of words and phrases:

“Completely unlike you… Irresponsible…” I did my best not to smile and nodded along,

“Disrespectful… Absolutely intolerable…” A giggle was coming up my throat and I tried thinking of dead puppies to stifle it.

“Never would I… Poor Chad…” This was a lost cause. The moment I heard the words “poor” and “Chad” in a sentence I absolutely lost it. Tears were streaming down my face and I was cackling like a madman.

In retrospect, I feel like my teacher must’ve been hard pressed not to do the same thing. Just imagining a prepubescent child angry shouting in close to the seventh octave must’ve been something worthy of America’s Funniest Home Videos. Kudos to you Mrs. Smith for managing to keep a straight face through all this.

There’s something else I always remember about this story. The pencil Chad poked me with. That sharpened graphite tip seemed to channel everything into a point. Like a whip puts  all its force into where it strikes, the pencil did the same. All of Chad’s stupid pranks and annoyances from the past ever were behind that pencil. That’s something which stuck with me through all this. 

In Response To Freshman Year

I’m not a writer. Nor do I claim to be. But an assignment is an assignment, so let’s get on with this.

Freshman year has been less than interesting. Take all the positive things you’ve been told about high school, and throw it out the window. The ability to choose specialized courses? Hah. More freedom? That’s a good one. Classes that are actually based around your skill level? You wish. There’s been absolutely nothing especially good about this year. And I think that’s all owed to our wonderful method of teaching.

Because, y’know, a course about electric fields and the periodic table of elements is mandatory, and a course that teaches us our own laws is just an optional elective. Sounds like we’ve got our priorities in order.

Negative “b” plus or minus the square root of “b” squared minus  four “ac” over two “a”. Glad I’ll always determine the answers to quadratic equations instead of preventing the ignorance that gets people like Trump elected.

I’m curious as to how these board meetings go. “Hey, Phil. I was thinking.. So you know you how we were thinking of teaching these kids how to properly convey a message? Yeah, how about we just teach them about completely irrelevant points in history.” “Dammit Dave, you’re a genius! What a brilliant idea. Take my keys and my wife, you deserve it!” Fun.

Summing up my entire year with these piece is really depressing, so I’ll just leave it with a Douglas Adams quote, “So long, and thanks for all the fish”.

Phteven Kung

Heh.

"Riding the Bullet" by Stephen King- the only book I actually remember the plot to.

This novella, lasting around 80 pages, mentioned death and cars and hitchhiking and cat piss and Alzheimers and rollercoasters and Alzheimers. More specifically, "Riding the Bullet" is about a college student, Alan Parker, and his journey to visit his hospitalized mother. Problem is, he's a college student. He also doesn't have a car. He also is 120 miles away. He also can't to pay someone. So our hero has to hitchhike. 

He entered cars, he exited cars, he did other things to complete asyndetons. After loitering around wasting time, time wastes him. He's picked up by the one person he does not want to see in this situation. 

What a beautiful cliffhanger. Please applaud loudly. 

Derived from a real life incident King himself faced, this horror novella leaves you constantly feeling anxious and waiting for more. 

Oliver Hudson- World's Best Columnist

Oliver Hudson. A right-wing voice in a campus where “conservative” is considered a curse word. Sadly for Tronald Dump and Co. he’s not a very good one. His statistics are outdated and reasoning is just plain stupid. Full of ideas even the most radical republican would find disgusting, his columns are full of filler and lack anything logical. Hudson’s writing and political viewpoints have given him lots of (negative) attention. While most of his pieces do not garner any attention, there’s the occasional outburst of stupidity that gets him attention.  I chose this writer because his completely inane views and just how entertaining it is to read- although it make you do a little cringe every time you come to a significantly idiot point of his.

Although, Hudson can write. He does have a voice and uses many aspects of writer’s craft in his columns. In “A Policy to Increase Unemployment” Hudson asks many rhetorical questions and uses elevated diction to try and sound smarter than he actually is. In “Universal Suffrage is Immoral” the genius continues to astound us by asking even more rhetorical and philosophical questions. Hudson also uses the genius tactic of using outdated resources to benefit his cause.

Truly an inspiration this Hudson man is. I recommend reading his works and truly enjoying it.

The jaw-dropping face of Oliver Hudson.

Glassesless

So I can't actually

See the board

It's just a blur of scribbles

Dips and rises as the text goes on

So I can't actually 

See the board

So my attention starts to wander

Doodles fill the page

The teacher's voice droning as the lesson goes on

So I can't actually

See the board

Nodding along as if I get it

Even though it's just a jumble of colors

Faking my way through

Because that's just the way the day goes on

So I can't actually

See the board

The dull blend of everything

I squint and gaze at

Sends pulses of heat throughout

My brain and being

And that's the way a day without glasses goes on

I chose this piece because it struck me as different compared to my other poems and stories. There was a certain simpleness and elegance to this one that I couldn't find in any others. The combination of something simple, like losing your glasses, and the more complex resultant of that, contemplating literally everything as you can't see the lessons, lead to a balanced piece that I really liked. 

While revising I found that quite a few stanzas adding nothing to overall message of the song and promptly deleted them. That's about all the editing that I did.

2nd Quarter Reflection

              Compared to last quarter both the quantity and rigor of the books I read have increased. While I tried to expand what I read last quarter (short stories, poems, and other pieces similar), I focused more on reading some more challenging books this semester. Like trading quality for quantity- or enjoyment for money. Those things that you really don't want to do but end up doing because you need to show improvement and progress. I've read 12 books starting with the word "the" this semester including The Racketeer, The Confession, The Associate, The Appeal, and The Last Juror among others. The best book I read this quarter was 1984 by George Orwell. The combination of relatable characters and a dystopian society makes an absolutely amazing read that I'd recommend to anyone. Regarding my book choices, I've found I'm interested to books with a main character that doesn't have any special powers or stands out from anyone else. As someone who is absolutely brilliant in every way whatsoever* it's good to  read book about a character that cannot cause a massive change in the world with some superhuman strength or genius like IQ. 

               For this semester I'd like to read at least four graphic novels. They're a type of book that I absolutely love to read but find hard to find. Many graphic novels are drawn in an absolutely beautiful art style and I can learn from both the writing and art style.