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.

Dear Dad,

Well, another Father’s Day is here.  To be quite honest, I usually forget about Father’s Day because I have no reason to celebrate it.  I find myself getting jealous and resentful of my friends who have a father to shower gifts upon [even though I am broke and would probably just buy you one of those tacky Pink Floyd ties, anyway.]  Anyways, real reason I’m writing?  I have a bone to pick with you.

So I was looking through our records the other day, and found a BOSTON record!  I was so impressed, I didn’t even know you liked Boston!  Then I noticed it was the second album.  Come on, dude.  The second album?  The one with the ever sappy “Amanda” single on it?  Why do you have the second album and not the first?  Did you take it with you?  I guess I can’t really imagine a heaven without Boston.  Oh, and thanks for leaving me every Neil Diamond record ever made. Especially Heartlight.  Whatever would I do without that album?

Heh, you know I’m kidding.  I actually do like Neil Diamond.  Kind…of. …..It’s not like I turn him off when he comes on the car radio, even though sometimes I sort of do?  I know you hijack my radio whenever I go driving, so quit forcing me to listen to “Cherry, Cherry!”

I saw Eddie Money play at a free festival last night, and I have some unfortunate news; Eddie Money has lost his marbles.   I’m serious! And I quote,

“Who wants to go to Mexico with Eddie Money!?!? I have a guest list of 500 fans, we’re all going to Mexico!!!”

So, mind if I go to Mexico?  I mean, I was invited.  Granted he seemed just a tad bit plastered when he made this statement.   And I am also sad to say that he sort of lost his voice.  Energy wise, he still seems to have it.  Though, I don’t understand his stage antics.  Sometimes he’ll grab his head and look at the audience all cah-razy like.

Oh, and I met this boy.  …..Ugh, stop looking at me like that.  On second thought, I don’t want to talk about it.  HRMPH.

In other unsurprising news, you know I miss you.  It’s not the same without ya.  It’s not the same staying up late and listening to music without you, and I miss your punny jokes.  I can no longer think of one off hand.

Sometimes I realize that memories of you are all I have, and I become terrified that I will slowly forget them.  I hope I don’t.  There have been ignorant people who have told me I’ll never see you again, that death is all there is.  But you and I know it’s not really the truth.  The hope of seeing you again in some way keeps me going, and knowing that somehow, you are able to read this letter, fills me with comfort.  Much like the comfort you offered me when you were still here.  No one can steal this hope from me.  Otherwise, you know I’ll kick their ass if they try.  Seriously.  I’m pushy.

I love you with all my heart. I am playing Sweet Caroline just for you  (and yes, I am grumbling through the entire song.)  Have a great fathers day wherever you are, and don’t drink too much scotch.  You know how you get.

And remember, if Olivia Newton John married Isaac Newton, got divorced, and married Elton John, her name would be Olivia Newton-John Newton-John.

-Love always,

Sarah