What a perfectly generic and cryptic title for a blog.

The last year or so, I have been astonished at the wonderful reception my website has gotten. I bought the server last year, and launched it in November, and since then I have been getting nothing but good feedback, touching emails, and have made friends I wouldn’t trade for anything.  Except food.  I’d trade anything for food.

Alright, not even food.  Point being, I am so grateful that anyone, let alone a small posse of people would want to read or follow anything I do.  Like most nerdy recluses, my childhood was a bit less than socially exciting, so having friends, on the internet or in real life, is a blessing.

But, with fans and popularity comes work and some ego-centrism, and I feel like I had lost base with why I started the website in the first place.  It’s easy to fall into “internet success” syndrome, and allow things to get to your head and take the fun out of work.  When I got denied placement on a popular website as an article writer, it stung, and I thought to myself: What can I do to make it better?  What can I do to get more hits, to gain popularity and prove myself worthy?  I have to try harder.
So I did.  I tried very hard, and it paid off.  Through this website, I’ve managed to network and meet some amazing people who could offer support.  And I was happy.  Happy to be recognized.

But success is like potato chips.  You can’t have just…one?   No, that’s not it.  Success is like a flesh eating disease! It spreads like wild fire, then hurts like a bitch.  That works.

I admit to having lost focus.  The main thing that was constantly consuming my mind was “How can I be bigger?  How can I get more readers? How can I make this profitable?”, and once those thoughts impregnated my mind, I lost base.  It became a chore to write or draw, because all I could think about was my hit count.  I am not proud of it, but I shamefully admit to having hurt a very decent man because of my own resentment towards his success, and I apologize with everything I have.

The hurt I felt after that incident snapped me back into reality.  I was currently checking my email, and found one concerning my website.  A bigger website wanted to do some kind of link exchange, claiming that I would be more easily found in search engines, and my traffic would spike.  It sounded like an exciting and profitable prospect.

I declined it.

This website is a personal website, one I made for myself.  I made it for my own satisfaction; the fact that people enjoy coming here and reading my work or looking at my artwork or videos is a huge bonus, but this site will always be just for me, and if I lose every fan I have and my hit count falls to zero tomorrow, it wouldn’t matter.  I maintain the site because I love it, not because it’s a chore, or for any other ulterior motives.

That being said, I know many of you have suggested adding a donate button to the site, which I am also opting out of.  While I appreciate anyone wanting to help me financially, I would much more appreciate feedback and the honesty I’ve been getting for the past nine months.

I know many of my readers are also trying to accomplish their own goals, whether they be videos or article writing, and I encourage you not to give up on whatever it is you are trying to achieve – just keep in mind your own happiness.  That comes first.

Thanks to everyone who has been reading.  You guys are my best friends on the internet. Cheers. <3

The other day, I was convinced to accompany some pals of mine to the local Game Stop.  Now, I don’t have any personal qualms with the store, even though I feel like I never get the price I deserve when I try to sell back my games.  I rarely make an appearance simply because there isn’t anything I would want to buy.  See, I am perpetually mired in the past, therefore my collection of consoles range from old, to older, to rotting away.   My favorite console will of course, always be the computer, and it’s absolutely pointless to browse the computer game section at Game Stop.  It’s sparse and full of EverQuest garbage, and I’m simply not interested.  But I digress, I went to Game Stop anyway to hang out with my buddies.  I made a beeline for the Wii console in the corner, and loaded up the generic racing game that was playing.  Fun.
So, I am there, minding my own business playing some generic racing game thing, when the cutest little boy in the whole damn world waddles up to me, huge doe eyes staring up at my tattooed, pierced up self, and says, “Can I play with you?”

Awww, that is adorable! Some innocent little tyke wants to play a game with me?  With me??? Nobody ever wants to hang out with me!  My friends don’t even want to hang out with me!  Alright lil kid.  Let’s play.

I gave the youngin’ my best, sweetest, motherly like smile, and said. “Sure thing.  Here, take a control–”

“YAAAAAAY!!!”

“Ok..then…”

So me and this 7 or 8 year old kid duke it out at this racing game, and damned if I was going to lose.  I don’t know if it was the competitive side of me, or if the lil guy sucked at racing games, but I slaughtered him.  I creamed him, I blew his pathetic racing car out of the water.  I. Am. Awesome.

I felt pretty good about myself until I looked down and saw the most disturbing thing I have ever seen; that little boy had a well of tears as big as the Atlantic shining off his eyes, and that lower lip was quivering.  I knew I had to say something.  I knew I couldn’t let his sadness spill over into hysterics, or even worse…a temper tantrum.

In a moment of desperation, I meekly say, “Well, better luck next time, right?…”

Bad move.

This kid unleashed sobbing of biblical proportions.  I step back from the console, nearly falling over from the sheer volume of the crying.  Where are this kids parents?!  Who leaves their kids alone in a Game Stop anyway, right?  This isn’t my fault!  It’s not my fault this kid sucks at gaming!

My buddies rush over to me and immediately exclaim, “SARAH WHAT DID YOU DO TO THIS KID?! WHAT DID YOU DO!?”

“Nothing!  I didn’t do anything!”

“What did you DO?! Damn!”

I was then escorted out by my friends.  As we drove past the store, I looked out the window to see that little brat was perfectly fine, dry eyed, and playing that stupid racing game.  What a faker.

The moral of the story?  You need to let your kids win at games, and you will save yourself a lot of grief.  But…don’t always let them win.  Slaughter them a couple of time to show them the what for!  But then let them win again.