SargassosArt

Ok, so....I haven't posted a journal in forever. Yikes. Anyways, I am finally getting around to opening for commissions!...yay? As it is, we've finally moved into a house, and its the first time we haven't been mooching off my mom or my buddy's parents since we both got out of college, and as we don't have the assured income of my work study job, just what we can get...this is a huge leap for both of us. Add that to having my own insurance for the first time EVER, student loans that I've been neglecting cause I was too poor even WITH work to pay them, my lovely horse who needs feed, and the fact that I am without a reliable car to get to wo

We passed two chicks in the Australian exhibit, who were examining creatures and comparing them to what they'd seen in movies. They had to be at LEAST in their early twenties (possibly older)… When suddenly one looks up in the jungle scene and reads (from the signboard, of course) "flying fox"….which proceeded to change into an argument about how: A. Oh, so it's not a bat, it just looks like one, it's a fox!…but...but it looks like a bat o.O B. Oh no, it's a fox bat mix, it's just a mix breed, see, it's a fox that moves and hangs around like a bat! and C. No way, that is totally a bat, not a fox, the museum needs to fix the

Everyone has had that moment when they rise in the morning, to gracefully slam the alarm clock to a different corner of the room, grouse about the ungodly earliness of the day, whether it be 8 in the am or 12 in the pm, and either roll over to attempt to return to the land of slumber, generally resulting in tardiness throughout the day, or heave their carcass from the bed in an unceremonious tangle of blankets and proceed to prepare for the day. It is usually in these half conscious moments when one may pause to ponder what events they may have partaken in during their stroll through the nether-levels of the brain. It is possible said dreams