Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Endorphins and blogger stuff

This entry isn't going to be about endorphins!!!... Or exercising at all! Oh, god damn it. I think it's such a shame how I'd probably get so many more readers if I actually did write about how I go the gym, make my hair or just take pictures of food, whatever it is that these successful bloggers do. Or just write about myself more. Surely, more people would read.

But then I remind myself I started writing this blog because I wanted to, and still do. This blog, just like it is today. There's absolutely nothing wrong with it, as long as I have the motivation and desire to keep on writing. Readers are a large part of a blog, but in the end, everyone who blogs for some sort of hobby does it because they enjoy it themselves. Political, commercial and news blogs are different, not necessarily for enjoyment in quite the same way, though surely I'm not claiming writing about politics can't be entertaining.

And then I write to further develop into a better artist as well writer. If I've been busy, or for some other reason ( e.g Indolence) haven't blogged for a while, then I'll force myself to take the time and write a little something, and draw some pretty pictures. Sloth, lethargy, laziness is sinful, and I fight it consciously. 

Why is writing fun? I don't know. It's not like endorphins, as when one exercises, it kind of just pays off later. Makes you feel good about yourself. I mean, what if, one day, I get to show this to a younger generation? Who knows. It's like writing a diary. Just writing is kind of relaxing, but the real joy is in looking back at old entries and reminiscing in past work. And the feedback you get is important, too. Maybe what's important is not a huge readership, but a devoted one. I get to discuss what I write here with my mates, because they read my blog. It's nice. 

Anyhow, what I drew for today is a little different from all the other digital art I've posted. See, it's an actual sketch. I only used one brush, always same size, which is something I've really never done before. When I draw digitally, I generally use very large brushes, but not today. I'm pleased with the results! 

I did however darken some areas to establish some contrasts, as you saw in the finished piece. A happy blogger? I don't know, It doesn't really relate awfully well to the writing. I don't think it always has to, either.

Monday, May 20, 2013

OH MY GOD ft. symbolic organs






Alright, now that we've gotten that out of our systems, what the hell is with the weird motif, anyway? 

I was thinking the other day, about how and why baring thoughts, feelings and personal matters of similar significance is so difficult. It differs from individual to individual, naturally. I know people who are like rivers of emotion, to the point where it seems that no hidden sentiments even exist, and then I know others, who seem to feel as if though their feelings are somehow invalidated once shared. 

Neither is healthy. Too little shared emotion, and there's no social connection. Too much, and it seems as if those feelings are public domain, open to any who are interested, and again, little actual sentimental traction is found. Why, then, are some people so shy? In what part of natural selection was this ever relevant?

Shyness is everywhere. Shy, untune, awkward, mortifying, backwards and unsociable, they're all names to label a larger crowd. I do wonder, not to harp on introverts or anything, but in what part of human evolution did we develop such a thing as social restraint, anyway? It doesn't make much sense. I guess it may have something to do with defending yourself. I'm sure sorrow, a very basic feeling, has been a part of the emotional repertoire much longer, and simply reproducing without significant emotional bonding may in dire times have been an evolutionary trait. It saves you the sorrow of mourning, a burden heavy to bear. Guesswork and educated speculation, that's all one can do.

I could even go as far as to say I can relate to this guy. I've had a relatively easy life, but there are lots of things I just don't disclose. I surprised myself last week, when I just sat by this bridge and cried, cried for so long and about so many things, among stray fishermen and lonely people. I'm sure that's inspired me in even writing this particular entry.

But a stern outlook doesn't necessarily mean that fewer feelings or weaker emotions are held. Far from it, some people seem to be at the point of bursting, simply so full of withheld expression. This is exactly what I wanted to portray with the artwork. A large heart, but what could be less expressionate than a block for a face? Well, honestly, It's a rather irate block. I mean, its totally assymmetric, which speaks of emotional instability. However, I'm sidetracking. The large heart is of course a metaphor for a colorful emotional spectrum, capability for love, as well as hate, sorrow, happiness, and other feelings traditionally associated with the heart.

And yeah, the dick, the cockling of a cock. He had to be naked, of course. I don't know why, symbolically it doesn't make sense or add anything to the portrayal, but nakedness just seems to be this catalyst of sensations, vibes and tingles. Fitting. I've actually had people ask me why I rarely draw explicitly naked people, but I don't really know. It can be distracting... Not because its spectacular in any way, but I don't see why I would include them where they have no meaning, but there you go! I did intentionally obscure it a little, though, because the physical representation isn't really whats important, its the metaphorical implication of being naked.

I feel this entry was terribly artistic. Symbolics, profanity, semi-poetic atmosphere and tons of fuzzy, muddled talk about feelings and obscurity. Progression or regression, one can not honestly tell. I guess it has to do with what amount of social restraint one possesses.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

cup of life

What safety is there in our lives? Rather, after our lives.

I mean, organic life, us, we, are so incredibly fragile. I'm not someone who would commit suicide, and I'll assure you readers I'm generally quite happy with where I am, but sometimes I think about it. Like when I'm looking out the window, right here, in my apartment. What if I just jumped out? It's the sixth floor, I'd probably die almost instantaneously, and then it would be over. No more, I would die, and never get another go. We only get that one coin, that one credit for the rollercoaster. 

And then it's over. Beyond that point, were fucked forever. Life ends, and you know, if we do get another life, then that won't be us. There is no other life, because you would be born as another person, with another consciousness. And there is no eternal death either, because we are not around to experience it. And Ghandi was oversimplifying things, death will not be like what it was before we were born. An eternity waiting, that has not been experienced, is actually no time at all. An eternity spent not waiting is simply... An eternity. So there was no time before we died, and there's an eternity of time left when we die. Will we experience it? Oh, there's no knowing. 

And the consciousness. What is it? Are we the same as when we were born? No, not necessarily. Well, that depends on your view on death. Is death the nonexistence of our consciousness? If it is, then it can't ever be created again. Not the same one. A new one can be made, but there's no such thing as something flickering in and out of existence. Things cant be rebuilt exactly as they were, because circumstances are never the same. So, when a man dies, and is revived, is that a new consciousness, just with the same memories as the old one? Of course, he would believe he was the same consciousness, because they're virtually unseparateable, undistinguishable. Only difference is, its another consciousness, and the old one is still dead. 

I don't know. Of course, the consciousness could be bound to the brain. Your consciousness could exist only physically. Maybe there is no soul. Well, I don't believe there is, but souls would be cool. Anyway, If there exists only the brain, then when we die, we really are dead. Brains can maybe be rebuilt, but its still a separate brain.

Annoying. The prospects of death are... Annoying. There is no safety in death. Well, I guess there could be found some safety in the uncertainty. We know that we don't know, and can't know, thus there is no point in pondering. We will just have to wait and see. 

Once spilled, you can never make another cup with exactly the same amount of particles in it. It's lost. Eternally. And even if you did manage to do it, it would still be a different cup of particles. 

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

on vacation! and tanning science!

Currently on vacation with my family in Turkey! Sunbathing and contracting skin cancer and that kind of stuff! Even though I know its bad for you, I sunbathe like there's no tomorrow...

Let me just explain this tanning shizzo for you readers. There are two kinds of radiation involved in the tanning process, both having different ways of tanning you, and in the long term, harming you.

First off, theres the part of the electromagnetic spectrum called UV-A. Ill assume its the one with lower frequency, but I'd have to look it up. What this basically does is oxidise melanin in your skin (Melanin - the same brownish pigment i wrote about in "Eyes in Macro and more Rayleigh LOL"... well, whatever the entry was called...). This causes the Melanin to darken, in turn making you look beautifully tanned. However, UV-B causes a short-term tan, as the Melanin is quickly replaced.

Then theres UV-B, which sounds much worse.

Melanin, in essence, is the active part of the human photoprotective system. Besides being brown and shit, Melanin effectively turns (about 99.9%) the energy of UV radiation into heat, to protect our innards from this dangerous kind of radiation. Naturally dark skinned people have high levels of it in their skin, as they herald from a sunnier place and naturally need more protection. Us white folks dont need to be protected in the same way, because we come from colder climates with less sun. Instead we have smaller amounts of melanin in our skin, which in turn boosts our Vitamin D production - a production dependent of Sunlight.

UV-B sets our photoprotective system into overdrive. How? Well, UV-B destroys DNA, killing our skin cells. As the defences exist to prevent this from happening, it sends a signal to the melanocytes - These produce our melanin - to produce more, because the sun is literally killing us. So thats what a sunburn is, its millions of damaged cells, dying and dissolving. No wonder it itches and burns.

UV-B does however create a long lasting tan (and skin cancer..!), and, while it may sound counterintuitive, some cell-death helps us, because the increased levels of melanin in our skin in turn make us less susceptible to the suns harmful rays in future encounters! And we need the sun, anyway! Staying away from sunlight isnt healthy, we need it for Vitamin D, and light is an important cornerstone in preserving our sanity! And besides, tanning not only makes you a sexy beast, it can be quite relaxing, but its always worth keeping in mind that its not completely harmless!

Anyway, I wont be posting anything before friday, at best. Writing from my dads tablet PC... Its not that great, and I miss the physical, noisy keyboard of my home PC.

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

hangovers and the essence of humanity

Im back with more skulls... Skulls, skulls, skulls. They give off no expression, feeling, and the absence of emotion is, ironically, almost inhuman. But that's what skulls are, isn't it? A frame, stripped not only of its flesh but also its humanity, the underlying inner workings that make us hate, like, love... Yes, live.

Some would call it a soul, I guess. I don't take any position in that question, but everyone agrees that this capability escapes us in death.

What is it that I've draw? I guess it could be a skeleton with a soul. Feelings, bursting, vacating, escaping after the prison of flesh was unmade.

Or, more poignantly, a hangover after Walpurgis? The skull is the symbol of a dead man. It's quite how I felt today... Well, not really, but you're never supposed to let the truth get in the way of a good story. It wasn't that bad, but hangovers come on harder and more often ever since I was ill with glandular fever. What are they, anyway? Hangovers?

It doesn't really make sense, why do we feel so... Shite after nights of plunder and joy? Well, I'm not going to keep my line of philosophical writing here. We all know alcohol is toxic, yeah? Yet, It turns out, alcohol is not what makes you feel so bad, I mean, of course it's not, it makes you feel good, strong, brave or whatever your personal experience tells.

Hangovers have to do with how the body breaks down things. For example, a long molecule of something like a complex sugar, or whatever, can't directly be used by the body. To make this sugar more practical, the body snaps it in half, creating a smaller sugar. This sugar may then be split into a really simple sugar, like glucose or something (I don't know..! I don't read biology!).

Alcohol kinda goes through the same process. First, its broken down a little. In order to break it down, the body uses a chemical produced by the liver. This chemical, or enzyme, or whatever, is abundant. Alcohol can always be broken down. But then, there's a problem. What it breaks down to is far more poisonous than Ethanol, your everyday alcohol, is.

The process of breaking down continues, but in order for the body to do so, it requires yet another kind of chemical produced by the liver. This chemical, as opposed to the one that breaks down ethanol, is limited. Once you run out of your reserve of this chemical, you're left with piles of very toxic, alcohol derived waste products. These are the things making you feel like... Shit. The liver slowly creates more of this chemical, slowly cleaning up the toxic mess in your blood, while you're lying in bed, waging a losing war against water and sandwiches, the toilet and vomiting jug standing as your only allies.