Rita: the home stretch.

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Half the money has been wired to the printer. The interior files are done. I’m uploading two zip files to the printer’s FTP site; they’re the compressed result of asking InDesign to “package” my files. Which means that it created a directory containing the 223 Illustrator files that make up the pages of the book, all the fonts used, a PDF export of the whole book, and a version of the InDesign file that has the proper path references to use all those files.

Four and a half years of work. Four and a half years of drawing, writing, thinking, and drawing. Each page is in there three times: the Illustrator-only representation in its .AI file, the larger PDF-compatible representation in the same file that InDesign can read, and a print-res image contained in the PDF. It’s a little under two gigabytes.

And somehow that doesn’t feel like very much data for four and a half years of work.

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On the other hand book 3 is gonna take about three days to upload, and the omnibus is gonna take another three or four. So maybe that’s a hell of a lot of data. It’s certainly a hell of a lot of data to upload on my asymmetric consumer-level connection. Maybe I should see if I have a friend with a fast connection at home or work who’ll let me use it. Or just put these things on a USB key and FedEx that.

(It’s also a lot of data to be uploading three times, as Dropbox and Backblaze both try to synch it… pausing those sounds like a good idea.)


It is also Thanksgiving, which I have been spending very happily alone. And I suppose I should do the traditional listing of Things I’m Thankful For. Let’s see:

I’m thankful to my grandfather for taking advantage of a bank offering scandalously low interest rates on a loan, and leaving me a big enough pile of money that I haven’t had to worry about a day job for the  time I spent drawing this comic.

I’m thankful to all the people who now support me on Patreon; their small per-page donations add up to about a hundred bucks per page, and when I’m cranking out two pages a week that ends up paying a significant chunk of my rent every month. I’m thankful to the folks who built Patreon, too!

I’m thankful the three-way relationship that broke up not too long before starting Rita ended up with me having an ex-with-benefits who’s a great creative partner, as well as a source of, you know, regular, um, benefits.

Birthdays and other lies

Well. That was a pretty good birthday. I sent off the signed contracts to print Rita, and went to the bank and wired off half the money. Now I just need to double check that the PDFs are the right sizes and send those off to the printer. I could have done that today, but instead I got together with the ex-with-benefits, went out to a cafe and worked on a short comic I've been fooling with, then went to a couple of places that have really nice cake and split a slice of it at each place.

I mean it was a good birthday aside from the fact that a literal neo-Nazi conference shouted “Heil Trump” today, and we got news headlines like “Alt-Right Leader Questions Whether Jews Are People”. Ugggghhh, what the fuck has gone wrong in this country, how do we fix it, I've been worrying about that a lot but today I just had some fucking cake.

And, well, aside from the fact that it's not anywhere near the date on my birth certificate…

A month and a half ago, a few people I follow on Facebook had birthdays at the same time. My feed there was full of reminders of this and messages other people wrote on their pages to wish them a happy birthday.

And I cringed inwardly, and went to make sure Facebook wasn't going to do that on my birthday. Because that's also the anniversary of the day my father died. Yeah, on my birthday. You couldn't do that to even the most miserable and beleaguered protagonist of a Roald Dahl tribute novel; it's just too perfectly horrid, isn't it? A day of cake and presents turned to a day of shock and horror at a sudden lack of a loving parent. Unsurprisingly my birthday celebrations have become rather minimal, to the point of barely existing at all – it's an excuse to maybe buy a couple big things I've been sitting on the desire for, and to have a nice meal with the ex-with-benefits, at most.

And then I wasn't sure if Facebook was going to do this or not despite me marking my birthday as hidden there. And I had a stoned idea: what if I replaced my birthday there with the creation date of the Furrymuck character whose name I ended up taking as mine, when I transitioned? Yes. I've had that date in my calendar for a while, so it was a simple matter to dig that up and put it in there. And to start trying to think of other social media that might have my birthday up, and change it there too. And put a post-it with the new date on the monitor so I'll hopefully remember to put it in the next time I create an account somewhere.

I originally wrote this the night I decided to do this, and scheduled it for the day after my new birthday. I wondered if by the time this comes up I'll have decided if I want to try to start using this as “my birthday” in social situations, tell people I'm a Scorpio when they ask my sign, and stop making jokes about the holiday near my actual birthday, or mention a few people I feel honored to share my birthday with. I think the answer is “yes”. Now I share it with Dr. John and Björk, not [redacted promoter], [redacted cartoonist], and [redacted cartoonist]. It'd be pretty cool if I can manage to get Wikipedia to have this date in it, should I become wiki-notable: I doubt anyone will bother researching the day beyond “what it says on her social media” unless someone reading it remembers this post and decides to doxx me to find it out. (Hi, future reader thinking of doing just that. Drop me a line and tell me why you want to do this, and maybe I'll just tell you. Oh wait I think you can find that out via public posts on this very blog, oh well.)

Maybe I'll even start to feel happy to get birthday wishes again now. That'd be nice. I could use a burst of happiness in the middle of winter. I kinda liked the pile of them I got this morning.

And: if you're seeing this after letting a machine urge you to wish me a happy birthday? Seriously, thanks for the birthday wishes. Please don't feel like a jerk for not knowing that my birthday is really another day, even if you've known me for years; I'm honestly not sure I'd know what my mother and father's birthdays were if they weren't both on holidays, never mind knowing the birthday of any of my friends.

 

doom, it’s what’s for breakfast

Wake up. Succumb to crippling dread caused by reading the news before I'm even out of bed: Trump looks to be on track to have the financial sector regulated by total banksters. It feels like I'll be able to deal with this better after having breakfast, I know my blood sugar is low and that makes everything terrible forever, especially since I skipped dinner last night, but I don't even have the energy to get out of bed, much less leave the house and go get breakfast, which I'm gonna have to do since all that's in the kitchen for breakfast is a mostly-empty container of elderly yogurt. Mostly because the kitchen's been unusable this week while maintenance ripped out part of the wall to replace insulation that'd been saturated with water by a pipe leak two floors above me.

I also think it's time to switch from sleeping under blankets to turning the heat up enough to sleep under a lot less. It's cold enough in my bedroom that the thought of exposing my naked skin to the air for even the five seconds it'll take to get into my bathrobe feels like an insurmountable task. Why the hell is an exothermic Southern girl like me living in Seattle anyway.

hoarding

My birthday’s coming up again. I think I’m gonna hit up eBay for another box of Mardi Gras doubloons to strew around my bedroom floor. Sometimes they stick to my bare feet, and as I kick them off I grumble at myself a little; then I grin because I’m complaining about my DRAGON HOARD.

Adding whimsy to my life feels really, really important right now.

more fucking politics

Hey so, you know how I grew up in New Orleans? And how Louisiana's been a super red state for years? This year, one of their Senate seats ended up in a runoff. With a Democrat involved who might have a fighting chance of getting it.

If you feel like donating to him, his site is http://www.fostercampbell2016.com. I already have. I might do some more. I would love to not cringe every time I hear about what the latest thing a Senator from my home state did.

 

looks like I’m eating out this weekend

This is the current state of my kitchen. Turned out that leak was going down the wall, saturating the insulation. Over the past week, maintenance had to do this to the third and second floor apartments above me; now it’s my turn. On Monday they’ll be back to put new insulation in, close the wall back up, and put it all back together. It will probably be dry enough to do this earlier, but weekends are important.

Things That Have Made America Great Before

So. Trump’s slogan is “Make America Great Again”. His transition team has set up a website that, among other things, invites people to submit suggestions for ways to Make America Great Again.

Let’s see. What happens when I think of things that Made America Great in the past?

Hybrid vigor. America has always been a nation of immigrants. We are the rejects, the fortune-seekers, the transported. People came to this country to make a new life, regardless of their nationality. Including Trump’s grandfather Friederich, who went from being a draft-dodging barber in Germany, to being one in NYC, to building a fortune running restaurants in the Gold Rush. That’s the American dream: any random person can come to this country and build a fortune off the combination of hard work and a little luck. Our culture is a crazy mish-mash of stuff brought in by every immigrant, as is no small chunk of our population – I’m a French/Italian/German euromutt, myself. Keep those open doors, continue being the land of dreams.

Unions. Strong unions forced fair treatment of workers. Without unions, we get long hours for little pay. I don’t know more than the broadest outline of this, I only know about the history of unions in the US through what the history of cartooning taught me. I’ve seen the difference between union jobs and non-union jobs first-hand.

Innovation. We’ve had a lot of smart, dedicated people who have come up with cool stuff that we could sell to the world. Lightbulbs. Cars. Airplanes. Computers. Where’d we get that? Well, people had the time to tinker with things instead of spending all their waking hours slaving away to pay for the basic necessities. And they had a decent education to start them out, too, which leads us to…

Education. How many kids coming home from WWII got a free education thanks to the GI Bill? How many of them broadened their horizons by going to college and meeting people they never could have seen in the small towns they came from? How many of them built businesses and lives because of that? The Boomers like to point back to their childhood as a time of Greatness, and this is a large part of why. Today? A college education is out of reach for even middle-class kids, let alone poor kids. Hell, there’s a lot of kids all across the country that get shitty elementary school, as well. How can we channel money into paying for this for more people again? Give every family in the country gets financing to pay for college. Or pour a lot more money into public schools and universities, free for all to attend. Make teaching financially rewarding enough that it becomes an attractive vocation, too. Ditch mandatory testing to retain funding; that hasn’t helped. Or maybe keep it and use it as a way to find great-performing schools to reward with extra money, and poorly-performing schools to help with extra funding.

Immense natural resources. Part of why this country is rich is because it had a lot of fertile land and lots of oil and coal. We don’t have much of that any more, and extracting what’s left is an increasingly expensive prospect, both in terms of money and the effects it has on the land. We’ve got a beautiful country, but we’re ripping it to shreds trying to extract the last bits of meat from its bones. I think the way to greatness here is to acknowledge that the gifts of oil/coal/etc found beneath this land have mostly run out, and accept it and move on: repair what we can, enjoy the amazing views this country offers, treasure the diversity of its wildlife that remains. I don’t have much hope on this one given Trump’s interim EPA appointment.

Jobs. Lots of jobs. Lots of things for the average American to do that people would find worth paying for. We needed a lot of people to farm and mine those resources. And those people fought for fair wages and We’ve got a lot less of those now, thanks to businesses paying people in other, poorer countries slave wages to do as many of these jobs as possible. Honestly I can’t argue with Trump’s rhetoric about pulling back from some of these global-trade treaties and imposing higher tariffs on imports; while I feel that the future lies more in increased automation, basic income, and a lot less jobs, that’s a hard sell, and “let’s stop buying so much cheap shit from overseas and make it in the US instead” sounds like a decent fix if I assume that capitalism ain’t going away any time soon. Although I’m also gonna suggest “raise the national minimum wage”, because nobody can live on forty hours of that right now.

Entertainment. We invented television and movies. We invented rock and roll, jazz, and rap. Our entertainment media is one of our major exports. I wonder if Trump’s got any position on funding the arts? High or low? Regardless, a hell of a lot of great work’s been done by people who had a decent day job that paid well enough to have energy and passion left over for their work. Really, “keep making great entertainment” comes back down to “minimum wage/basic income” and “education”; gotta learn the skills to do it and have the time to do it in until you’re good enough to make it your day job.

Genocide and slavery. You know what, let’s not shy away from this. America did this. America is built on this. All those immigrants I mentioned in my first point killed most of the people who were already living in this rich land, and made most of the ones we didn’t kill go live in the least-hospitable parts of the country. And we imported huge numbers of people from Africa to work under harsh, inhuman conditions, and called them animals. We enslaved them to do the manual labor of no small part of the task of harvesting the fertility and resources of this land. We deny them education, we deny them jobs, we make them live in the least-desirable parts of cities, we throw them into increasingly horrible prison conditions when they turn to illegal ways to make a living. This… this really isn’t very great, much less Great. This is the Original Sin of America. This is the secret that we keep wanting to sweep under the rug when we look back at our history. Greatness would lie in apologizing for it and not continuing to treat these people as an underclass who’s not worthy of education, help, a nice place to live, or dignity. Greatness would lie in not shipping out the undocumented Hispanics who fill many of the shitty slave-wage jobs now, as they attempt to walk the same path ol’ Frederick Trump did from “barber” to “hotel magnate”. Greatness would lie in embracing the Middle Easterners fleeing the constant war over the oil their homelands are on top of. Greatness lies in raising up the poor African-Americans along with the poor German-Americans, French-Americans, Italian-Americans, Irish-Americans, and all the other ethnic extractions we mush together under “white”. Because things are shit for a lot of people right now, not just the ones Donald Trump spoke to during this election.

I may be dumping a version of this into that form on Trump’s transition site after some further editing. I have little hope that it’ll be greeted with more than derisive laughter at a bunch of liberal waffle, but you never know. It’s better than silence.

pruning

Finally unfollowing someone you went to animation school with whose entire facebook presence for the past several years has mostly been right-wing memes is a nice feeling.

Yes yes I know reach out make bridges and all that but uuuuugggghhh.

And thus Hippie Liberal America continues to widen the gap between itself and Broke, Betrayed, Angry Middle America. I acknowledge the hypocracy of doing this while poking at a TV show propsal about “understanding the enemy”.

entropy continues

Well that was fun. While I was blearily showering the shelves I have in the tub broke. They’re one of those affairs with a series of triangular baskets on a tension pole; I probably paid like $20 for it five years ago when I moved in here so I can’t really complain.

Guess I’ve got a new thing on my task list today. But it is not going to take priority over “sign the goddamn contract to print rita 3 and get the covers aligned to the specs so I can send everything off soon and be done with this phase of the process”. Despite part of my brain very much wanting to sieze on this and make it super important so I can put off the scary thing that involves lots of money one more day. I’m fucking sick of that part of my brain doing that.

edit: yay my second misquoting accident means i’m in for about $3k more to print book 3 than i budgeted, wheeeeee, never doing this again without the indesign file in hand so I have accurate numbers. I have the funds to deal with it; it’s less than the mistake I made last time cost to fix. Signed it and emailed it back.

the dream of the forgotten closet

(I was looking through Evernote just now and I found this, which I seem to have never posted.. It’s backdated to the date Evernote says it was written on.)
There was a closet in the house I grew up in that formed the wall between the rarely-used front hallway and the dining room. It was a wide, shallow one, filled with things my parents owned but rarely used – good china, various single purpose cooking gizmos, and assorted stuff that blurs together in memory.
In my dream, I opened this closet to find that it was much deeper than it really was. There was another space about as wide as the hallway it was next to, with the shelves containing all the disused stuff my parents owned set against the far wall. Which would have meant they were overlapping the space used by the dining room.
This extra space continued off to the left, then turned right, well outside the space the closet normally occupied. I went in and found new spaces in the house. Slightly dusty, unused spaces, with different wallpaper and trim from the rest of my childhood home. Decor that felt like it was left over from previous inhabitants who had used this hidden apartment that we never knew about. I looked into a room or two and found furniture waiting to be used, shelves with stuff on them. I found myself reminded of a long-ago dream of finding new spaces within my grandmother’s home, which I am pretty sure was a real dream long ago rather than fake deja vu within the dream.
And then the hall I was following opened up into a vast warehouse, full of neatly organized shelves holding… things. Fragments of my parents’ lives and my memories, jumbled up and neatly labeled. Bits of a gothy comic that an unknown female relative drew with someone else’s assistance. Weird signifiers of people related to me who I never met.
I was wandering through this place, marveling at this huge space hidden inside my parents’ house, storing all kinds of vaguely nonsensical things, when I became aware of a generalized hubbub of conversation. There were other people here in this hidden space in my parents’ house. I started trying to chase them out, screaming at them. Gradually they left, until I was deep in the place in a livid rage at the idea of someone about to present an art project made by rearranging things found in this warehouse of weird detritus of the lives my parents lived.
Then I kinda drifted to another dream, of being in a different but familiar-feeling house full of books, with a sinkhole opening up in the grassy floor, but then I woke up.
Earlier I had dreamed of waiting for a bus in the night, which proved to be a small park the size of a city block that was lifted off the ground with wheels barely visible beneath. It ran through the city in streets far too small for it, slipping through wide holes in buildings designed to have just enough ground clearance for the park and its trees to zip through. Eventually it went into one hole and came out over a precipitous drop to a multi-lane road, which everyone else on the park-bus seemed to be expecting – they screamed like people on a roller coaster rather than people in fear of their life. It fell straight down and landed safely; I thought I almost lost my phone but apparently lost a lighter instead.