screw this shit. seriously. this here shall be one of those goddamn self-teet-suckling bullshit "noboy-loves-me" rants (that I will probably just end up at some point obliterating once I read over it again and see what a pathetic whiney mess it manifests). Yes, pathetic I probably am, but til I declare it and whilst I maintain this [bs] facade of pathetic with a sugary glazed frosting (or is that sugary glaze, no need for the "frosting" bit?) that effectively pings back outward some sort of fragile, yet sturdy (yet fragile) anti something or other (lack of words. guh.). Isn't this why I sort of ceased writing in the thing in the first place? because all too often I ended up finding myself just whining and ranting and who the fuck needs any more of that than there already is in this world? There's a part of me that reeeeealllly badly wants to change things... .but, oops, I'm sorry, I'm too busy trying to stay afloat with as little in and as much out as possible. I feel like a parasite eating its own tail constantly. feeding off my own shit. nice visual. heh.

boo hoo. wah wah. there. I'll keep the whining simple. but let it be known that there's something so goddamn sad inside of here. I want it OUT. get the fuck out of me, sadness!!!! stop waiting. start doing. I've already chucked so much of the bags into the ocean. why not more? I can float a bit on a raft made of straw. I can i can i can.... at some point I need to truly change shit. there are things I want to do. things this crappy world would probably be happy to have from me. no, not Green Roof animations that really don't have so much to do with the Greater Good of Our Planet as they do with marketing (the usual shit - it all boils down to MONEY and GREED). Sell this "green system" to the big boys - but ONLY the big boys, since the common little folk just can't afford this simpler, natural way, can they? I just don't feel like anything that I am doing has any real merit to it. Yes, I'm paying rent and putting food in our mouths... but at what cost? I HATE what I do. I have nothing but resent towards the entire industry, including my so-called "best friend" who, apparently, is all the same as the rest with her eye on the prize and her thumb up her ass, 'cept this one wears leopard-print and seafoam green eyeshadow, rocks out while sprouting inbetween and signs her emails with x's n o's. garrrrrrrrrrr....... screwing me up the ass, just as the rest, yet I'm biting my tongue because I fucking have so little to begin with and, for now, this is something that I need. powertrippin.... they all end up powertrippin

here's the problem: I don't like being directed (forcefully) - aka ordered to do shit. I don't like being underminded - which is a constant recurring thing in this field. I don't agree with about 90% of the direction I get anyways, since the directors are only in their stance because they are the money collectors and dolers, yet know shitall about management and quality control, and instead, have honed their managerial skills to focus on the whip-cracking and ass-licking. PR peeps, really. that's all.

solution: fuck them all. drop them all. take a pause with that 5 G and really make a solid effort to do shit for yourself, Noemi. do what you want to do.

illustrate. motivate. teach. inspire. smile. make a goddamn difference, all the while flowing out the creative shit that I really truly love.

how?

don't let that sadness creep in.
dun (as Sy would say).