You know what I'm confused about?

Why with all the cash Michael Jackson has did he not just keep a hundred models on staff to bear his children, so he can all the playmates he wanted?

It's not like he would need food stamps or anything.

This may be wrong, but...

The other day, when I was chilling outside at school. I saw a woman and what looked like her daughter enter into the administration building. They had two kids with them no older than, say, 6.

The woman was late thirties to fortyish and the girl, likely her daughter, was late teens early twenties. The mama was dress in a nice, form fitting dress, and the daughter had a tight shirt and tight jeans. They looked like they might go to the club together. A classy club anyway.

(I'm know I'm jumping the gun and by no means do I really think they go to clubs together, but I'm just saying so for the sake of story.)

So, who's kids were they? I asked myself.

If they were the mother's she's still child bearing age. I couldn't be mad at her if she and her husband/boyfriend still up to dealing with kids after having at least one 20-year-old.

If they were the daughter's she looked too young to have a six and/or four-year-old.

There was enough ambiguity there to make me think about it for a little while.

Get on the Bus

Get on the Bus
Originally uploaded by Ashiedu Nwadiei.

The strip is done. This begins his long journey to work a mere two miles away. Can he make it? Is the Raven right?

Get on the Bus Layout [Inverted]

Get on the Bus Layout [Inverted]
Originally uploaded by Ashiedu Nwadiei.

I'll have it inked later today. Just thought I'd put up the layout for it 'cause it looked cool with the colors inverted.

It's a bit more than rough, but it's not finished pencils. I don't need to finish my pencils when I do my own inking.

Webcomic

I've found some free webcomic hosting, so I'm in the process of setting things up now. It's funny as long as I've been using the internet, I never just bump into things, but if I try hard enough (or just think about it) I'll most often find it. I still have problems locating other black (or hip-hop/rap) comics and artist, but usually if I need something free, there's somebody who's had the idea before me and is doing it.

What can I say about the comic? Well, I hate letting cats out of the bag, but it's basically going to be a comic set in a surreal world that almost seems like this world, but with some major differences. The rest, if you are dying to know about, I'll give the link to the Xepher.net application when I put it up. Then you can vote if you like the idea or not too. Be honest, just don't be mean. >:-o

I need to make a new icon soon too.

I Won't Work for Less Than Minimum Wage

I'm actually starting to get tired of people who say that blacks are lazy because we don't work the jobs hispanics do.

It was only once, but I tried to apply for a housecleaning job because the gay guy who ran the company was alway flirting with me. I wanted to get out of security so I wanted to see if he would pay me more (yeah, I tried to use my sex appeal to get a job. Women do it all the time).

To my surprise, he told me they only hire Asians and Hispanics because they work long hours for less money. How it calculates is the worker get more money, maybe in cash, but they do alot more work than the average individual does.

I was denied a job because of others that would work for less. I'm sorry, but I have kids. I would like to see them every once in a while. I want fair pay for the work I do, that's how we say we are in America.

The Negro League by Eddie Newell

This piece is cold!

So Ghetto

For dinner we had Tombstone. While cutting into the pizza with the new pizza cutter I just bought 'bout a month ago, I had a flashback.

Before this I just used to hold the pizza down with a fork and cut it. Before then, I just cut it and however the pizza turned up, it turned up. Half the time the slice weren't even and they just looked flat out janky.

I'll never go back to that. Not now. Thinking about that I tried to recall some of the more ghetto things I've done and I couldn't come up with anything. Maybe I'm just not that ghetto.

What's the most ghetto thing you've done that you can think of offhand?

From "Under Cork" to Overcoming - Black Images in the Comics

From "Under Cork" to Overcoming - Black Images in the Comics

I bought a book on this subject a little while back, it's wild to see how far black people's representations have come and how far we still have to go.

People often think it's a reverse racism thing when I say I want to do black comics or video games, but it's just the facts that people are going to want fair representations of themselves, the way they see themselves. I don't even find putting black people in roles that could've been played by any other race is sufficient. It's good, nothing wrong with it.

What's with black fiction? Why do the hero's or villians tend to get cast as cop/detectives and gangsters. Where are our different genres of fiction including fantasy and horror based upon our own wishes and fear within our culture?

In a while, I'm going to start shifting gears on this blog and make it more about my plans for my future and my art. That's what I intended originally. If I want people to know what I'm talking about I suppose I'll have to show them.

Missing...

I really miss having my Brother around all the time. We still have e-mail and even video chat, but it's not the same. I can't be as random and abstract with the subject of conversations and such as I used to. It's hard to collaborate creatively with much effect digitally as welll. One major thing, I just can't be pissed off at them any time I want to. It's the kind of feeling like each bit of communication matters.

When I try to discuss the kinds of things we used to talk about with my family, classmates, or any other people, it doesn't seem to latch. It's like they think real people don't talk about stuff that's not work or weather. I think I'm becoming a duller person because of it.

When I met my friend Robert for the first time at work a few years ago, it was like I had met a long lost family member. He was one of the first dudes I met that I could actually talk to about any old thing. He even made up characters, one in particular, who we acted like was our imaginary friend who lived in the woods in Turley. We would also act like we were intelectuals and discuss what little we learned about religion and psychology. We didn't see eye to eye on music, but that was cool.

He eventually moved to Dallas. Last time I saw him was at his wedding. It's not the same anymore. Not that there's any beef, but you lose that same "always around" dynamic like I did with my brothers. It's hard to talk on the phone long distance to someone about random stuff while those dimes keep adding on.

So, even though I often could say I speak to or interact with people, it never seems to reach far. I don't feel like I grow when I can't sharpen my blade sparring with each other mentally. I grow to be a better me, but sometimes I get the feeling I'm feeding off of myself. Kind of like how your body eats it's own protein when it needs energy.

Shots Rang Out

I'm sitting up here trying to do a paper for Art History and a hear some loud clapping sounds a minute ago.

I yelled upstairs, what was that? I hear more clapping which I heard more clearly that could've been fireworks, but this ain't the 4th of July. My wife comes down and says, "I think those were gunshots..."

I figured as much. They sounded close. I wasn't exactly nervous, but I had her take Iyonna upstairs for good measure.

The street lamp went out momentarily when I looked out the window, so it was pitch black. I could see that security arrived, then back out again a little ways away. I couldn't see if they had anyone to chase.

The neighbors were all outside smoking, so I'm guessing they heard the same thing that I did. I would've asked them if they knew what was going on, but I figured they wouldn't know much more than me and at this point, I don't have time for chit chat. Actually, I could tell I would've asked one of them for a cigerette if I would've went over there.

Now, this will make me have to check the papers and all to see if something bad happened in my apartments. I hate to have to read the news at all. It's so gloom and doom. Have you noticed that one of the first portions of the news always just practically spits out bad things that happened around the world all at once with very little explanation? Like if it was essential to let the world know that bad things go on. A serial killer who targets black men might be important to me, but a guy who kills his buddy and throws him into the lake is not essential information.

Morning After Update:
My wife says she overheard someone saying that a bullet went into their apartment and that someone had been shot. There were police and ambulances out there, but I must've been too busy doing my paper to notice. I still haven't seen anything on the local news websites.

The paper sucked, no doubt about that, at least I feel I learned a little something extra.

Giant Turtle

Giant-Turtle
Originally uploaded by Ashiedu Nwadiei.

I wanted to do a little Flash cartoon or vector art piece, but I could never get the samurai right to go on his back. I liked it though.

What color is your tongue?

Just getting home after dropping off my wife, I gave the kids some popsicles because they were thirsty and we didn't have any cold water. (Plus the popsicle box is huge, if I keep being too stern I'll never get rid of them! Ha!)

As I was digging around in the closet trying to find the box to my Lacie Floppy Drive I just sold (I needed it a little while ago, but no longer) I listened to them talking about what color their tongue was while sitting at the table.

My son asked me, but I ignored him. Then I really thought about it. Why did I? If it was because he would continue and just get on my nerves, why would his question bother me? Is it just not something adults do? Do us adults have so much more going on with our lives that we can't bother to see what color our tongues are?

When I emerged from the closet, I told them. Don't ever grow up and think there are more important things in the world than the color of your tongue. That is a very important thing to know.

Page03

Page03
Originally uploaded by Ashiedu Nwadiei.

Page 3 from my unfinished 24 hour comic. School came too quick, too much family stuff. I'll finish it when I can, doing it just as quickly as if I was doing a 24 hour comic though when I can.

Right now, summer classes. Over 100 pages a day of reading and weekly papers. I'll be busy.

Stolen

I recently noticed money started disappearing from my bank account, not because of some broad, but from a local Blocbuster location, but it doesn't say which. The last time I've been to Blockbuster in all of 2005 has been to get two .99¢ memory cards for the old Playstation to play Final Fantasy 8. I'd been so stuck up until now, I wouldn't play it because it wasn't like the original Final Fantasies I'd played in my youth. I'm actually liking it so far though.

Back to the money, I've noticed many of the charges have been the same ammount, but others, like the one this month have fluctuated to a higher ammount. I doubt this could be any membership because of that. I doubt it has anything to do with a special I signed up for long ago, because I cancelled it many moons ago. But this has been going on for a long time, now that I check my records.

Well, I've put in the dispute to the bank and I should be able to find out something...

Did I do that?

I've been finding out more and more recently that it's my duty to defend the faults and wrongs of the entire black race. That's what other people seem to think anyway.

We had a discussion (which I normally call discussions, but I think became more of an argument) in American Federal Government class. The teacher was on the subject of the general opinion in America being that, if you work hard in life, you can accomplish whatever you choose. I used to agree with that, but as I've grown up, I've been finding that things are a little more complex than I had at first thought.

The teacher knew I wanted to say something, so he asked my opinion. My basic stance was, I don't think America is fair, but it is the way it is. Some people have it harder in life, but giving them a hand-out doesn't make it any better.

What pissed me off is that, here I am, sitting in a college class, but you're lecturing me as if I had my hand out for your welfare money. Bullshit. They weren't saying it generally either, they were saying it to me as if I would just pass this along to the rest of the black race.

Here it goes: Black people, we all need to get jobs and support ourselves!

Moving on, we talked about illegal immigrants (healthcare, pay, etc.) and other relates things. I admit I was being sarcastic, but it seemed like when I was being serious, they ignored me and acted like I was being foolish. I had to make some pretty outrageous comparisons to make any kind of point.

At the end of class, I ended up losing it. The main guy I was arguing with starting directing comments to me about working nonglamorous jobs and doing what you had to do to get ahead. Again, I told him, that's why I'm in the class and I've worked plenty of jobs that I hated just to get by.

I don't know what would've happened if we had more class time. There were those that agreed with me, and one guy who even told me he was from a privelaged family and admitted he had it easy. That doesn't mean he would go off and use drugs and such like the teacher was suggesting.

Still, that's why I like America. Even though I've gotten tickets and jail time because of me thinking we have true free speech.

Lot's Wife

I don't remember ever quoting a Bible verse, so I won't now either. While dropping my wife at work, I saw a sign that had a Bible scripture, the one about Lot's wife looking back at Sodom & Gamora and turning into a pillar of salt. That's another one of those that never truly meant much. I knew what it meant, but I guess I never had a personal thought to relate to it.

When I saw that, I thought about how hard life is at times and how people tend to make things harder on themselves. How can we do this when life can be hard enough on us already.

How can we look at drugs and what they do to our body and say, "we'll miss that." How can you look at alcohol, promiscuity, smoking, fast food, snack food, etc. and say we'll miss them, even if they are destroying our bodies. How can you look back at all the things that have complicated your life, often for the worse, and say we'll miss them?

I'm not mentioning them in any particular order for any particular reason, but I for one have a problem with smoking, eating, among other things. Even though I've stopped smoking for the most part for several years, it's still a struggle. I'll pick a Black and Mild up every once in a while. Snack food doesn't prove a problem except when it's in the house. My wife continues to buy it, so I'll eat it. These things are just two of my struggles. As bad as they make me feel physically, it's still hard to give them up.

Not just me, there are people close to me who have diabetes, but yet food is still a problem for them. How can you have a problem with something that may very well kill you?

That goes for anyone who's every had problems with loose sex, alcohol, or drugs like cocaine or meth. How can you love what kills you?

Now, I've never been that religious. Maybe I should say I haven't been in years, but I'm starting to think this Bible stuff (any religion that tells you to do right) makes sense.

If we can't just turn our backs on all this evil, greed, corruption and overall nonsense, maybe we all deserver to be turned into pillars of salt.

Peace.

Andrew Anderson

I didn't used to believe it was "gay" to dream about other guys until a dude at work told me I was in one of his dreams as a main character. I didn't feel gay when he told it to me, but it was akward when I saw him after that. I think it was the way he told me. I was sitting in the security office (I was a security officer then) and he runs up from my blind side and says, "You were in my dream last night dude!" The suddeness of the whole thing made me swallow down hard and almost choke on my water. After it settled in, it didn't feel that weird to hear it. Until later.

Anyway, that dream is not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about a dream I had a night or two ago. About a guy who I haven't seen since after the summer of sixth grade. Andrew Anderson. (Following is some description, but not in a homosexual way. Not that there would be anything wrong with it if I was.)


Andrew was a short red head kid with freckles who had been in my classes for 4-6 grade. He was a artist, like me, but better in some ways. He could draw many things better than me. He was one of the few guys my age that I actually wanted to be like and hang out with. He was cool in a corny sort of way I guess.

He used to draw lightning quick, which I've taken years to learn, and draw complex things when he took the time. You could tell that the teachers were genuinely impressed when he did something. He really knew how to break things down into pieces, even as a kid, and construct some impressive stuff. There is one thing that he did though that was so much better than what I'd seen him do in person that I now wonder if it wasn't his big brother who was in high school who drew it. I think it was a Grim Reaper, no it was "The Candle of Death." It was his sense of humor, so maybe it was.

There was a comic strip he used to do called "Wee Commando." I don't remember much now except for the fact that it might've been violent and was funny in Andrew's corny way. Well, one day when we left out the classroom a different way, I hung back and stole them from his desk. I was actually caught by his buddy Eric A., but Andrew didn't actually say anything to me. I bet in a weird way, that was a compliment to him because it meant that I envied his style. That he was better than me. I can't say he would've given them to me if I asked since we were so competitive.

After that I think we were cool. We started acting like friends a little more. Eventually I was buying computer music tapes (mod music) from him. I was even one of the chosen ones to go over his house to play Sega Genesis and later Sega CD when it came out. His family was one of those tech forward families. They were the first to have everything.

By sixth grade we were pretty cool friends. My art style took a lot from his and we even created a character based on a classmate of ours, Cecil Rose. He had a slightly large lower lip, so we turned him into a mutant or superhero. It was just then that we were cool that he moved to Chicago with his Dad. I guess his parents got a divorce. I never saw him again after that.

That's why it's funny after all this time to have a dream about him. Probably has to do with me drawing so much now. Even though I haven't yet completed what was my "24 hour" challenge, I've had more fun than I've had in years. Just pleasing myself for it's own sake. Not worrying about being sucessfull or anything.

In my dream, I met Anderw, still with Eric A. at some kind of support group. It felt like a lunch room, but it was smaller. More closed in. Andrew still look like I imagined he would a 25, he was still a short freckled redhead, but he had a scruffy beard. It looked unshaven, not like how I wear my beard. I couldn't really see Eric A. since he was just a side character. I didn't want to talk about old times with Andrew, I wanted to know what he was doing now. I wanted to know if his art was coming along. I always assumed I would heard about him by now with his talent. I can't be sure if I showed him my work, but my brother did. (For two dreams now, my brother Onyema has been in them with liver cancer. What's that all about?) He wanted Anderw to see his work like if Andrew was a guru or something. I was dying to see what Andrew had done.

When he finally showed me his sketchpad though, his drawing were good, but they could've been better. It was as if he had the same skill as when he was a kid, but it was now less impressive. He looked at me with a kind of desperation wanting me to critique his work. I gave him some pointers, but felt sad doing it. At some point, my brother starting coughing up blood.

That's what I remember. Funny because I feel like I don't feel I have time to criticize my work now. I guess I feel as if I just do what I can with the time I have, learning new things as time goes by. I used to critique myself and others, but it never really took away from the fun of it.

That dream may also have had something to do with me still subconsciously wondering if I ever will be better than him since I can't really know now. Nevertheless, I feel like I'm going somewhere now creatively like I did back then. Not just constantly learning and practicing. That's a little bit of what Andrew was about.

Update [24 hour comic]

I've been working on this 24 hour comic for the last few days, but I can't rightly say I've gotten a full 24 hours in yet. I'm up to six pages now. If I was single with no kids this would be alot easier I bet.

I went for it a couple of times and got a bunch done, but there has been something in the way every time. It's still wishful thinking to be able to have 24 hours to myself I suppose. I will finish the 24 pages before school starts on the sixth at least.

Even though I might not have been able to do the full dare at this moment, at least I get an idea how fast I could and should work when the mindset is right. Usually, there is always that something that tells me I won't have enough time. Always something to make me put that project off until the next day, but this time I just did it.

I'm getting sleep sickness from sleep deprivation now, if I can I'll keep working. If not, I'll sleep and start again in the morning.

I can't say I've self imposed many deadlines on myself like this...and it feels good.

When it's done I'll post it.