Podcasts and Bookshelves

Erm… There is a possibilty that right after I said “I’ll blog every week”, I went right ahead and missed a week. I am too lazy to check when my last post was, but it feels like a month ago. If I missed a week, sorry. If I did not (but I probably did), yay. Now that my obligatory “I’m sorry for being this way” introduction has been said, I have two stories to tell you.

Story One: So I Started a Podcast…

And although the quality leaves much to desire and I fully admit that I don’t know what I am doing, it felt good. It felt really good actually. It’s something I have always wanted to try out, because I suspected I would be good at it. I’m going to toot my own horn: as it turns out I am good at it. Sure, it was a first attempt and so far the only compliments I have received have been from 2 friends and the boyfriend, but I think (perhaps know) that this is a new medium that might lead to something. I promise I am not trying to sound arrogant, it’s just that the final product turned out much better than I anticipated, and when I listened back to it, for once I didn’t feel the need to apologize or criticize myself for the mistakes that had been made, or the sub-par quality of the audio. I enjoyed it, and I think others did will to. Because it’s good.

My Podcast is called Write Rant Rock. The first episode was about negative influences in art, and the one person I genuinely wish I could forget.

You can listen to it here:


 Story Two: My One-of-a-Kind Bookshelf

The Cutie Pie suggested that for my birthday (which was at the end of February) he get me a desk and a bookshelf so that I could have my very own habitat (as he calls it) in his room.
So about a week ago we went bookshelf shopping, except for the fact that the store he had in mind was closed when we arrived there and so no bookshelf was actually purchased.

The next day, after once again missing the window of opportunity to go and buy a bookshelf at the aforementioned store, The Cutie Pie got the bright idea to make a bookshelf out of old pallets that were gathering dust in the shed. I am not being sarcastic when I say it was a bright idea. I was excited. DIY has always fascinated me, for one. This bookshelf would not cost any money, for another. It would be the only bookshelf of it’s kind, and most importantly, the sentiment behind it is presently unmatched.

Do you know what the doucheface before Cutie Pie did when I moved in with him and told him I needed a place for my books? He found a dirty, bent, steel shelf that was discarded on the property, bought it in, placed it against a wall, gave me a cloth to wipe it down with, said “There, bookshelf” and then gave himself a pat on the back for being such an innovative, resourceful and nice guy.

Nice, my ass.

Cutie Pie says he is the least sentimental guy I’ll ever meet, but what he doesn’t realize is that it’s hard to believe that when he built a bookshelf with his bare hands, specially for me- something no one else has ever thought to do.

Not sentimental, my ass.

The shelf itself is a bit flawed; we missed some spots while painting it. We forgot to add some beams as dividers that we thought would look nice and come in handy. The wood is chipped. It’s skew. And Cutie Pie had a funny dumbass moment which resulted in an extra plank that is not supposed to be there but is now nailed down. But I wouldn’t have it any other other way.


You can watch it being made here:






When Muses are a Bad Thing- Ep 1


What do you do when the art you create reminds you of a time you’d much rather forget? 

In my first podcast I introduce myself to you, and discuss the art I wish I could take back from the people I created it for. 

Things I mention:

My Channel: https://www.youtube.com/user/rainbowskychild 

Sky Destroyers: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCZmnSHitk6i84WlVKSIIXyQ

Black Tape Lies: https://www.facebook.com/BlackTapeLies/

I’m Back!

You might have noticed that I can’t seem to grasp the concept of consistency (or that of routine, or discipline). I’m trying. I really am. This blog post is proof of that. My domain expired at the beginning of February and honestly, I had every intention of letting it go. I convinced myself (as I always do) that this website was an unnecessary waste of time because I couldn’t have been bothered to maintain it. I have a terrible habit of doing that and I am sorry. I mean it when I say I am starting to learn the error of my ways.

I have been in a slump (not just a writing slump- an everything slump) since November last year when my life sort of fell apart. I was simply too lazy to even attempt putting the pieces back together. I was tired of trying. I was sick half to death of doing what was expected of me. I was tired of doing what I expected of myself. I was just tired. Doing nothing became comfier and comfier with each passing day. It’s not that I was depressed. At least, I don’t think I was. I felt fine. I just… I guess I just didn’t give a fuck about any of my creative projects; not the videos, not the stories, not the songs, and least of all this website.

But then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked!

Sorry, I am re-watching Avatar for the bazillionth time. 

Jokes aside, something has changed in me. Perhaps it’s the motivation from the new boyfriend. He doesn’t nudge, he pushes to the point where I am offended by just how much of a pusher he can be. This guy comes from a family where doing nothing is their idea of Hell.

Or, perhaps it’s the fact that work is avoiding me. Every job I have applied for fell through. And when I realised the companies were not going to hire me, I was relieved. Because I don’t want to work full time. Because fuck capitalism and the corporate world. I want to write. I want to entertain. I want to live off the things I enjoy. Not slave away and risk another near breakdown, like what happened the last time I got the bright idea to sell my soul.

Or, maybe it’s because I am an artist, and artists- no matter how deep and dark the slumps and blocks may be- need to make art. It’s been months since I have created something I am genuinely proud of and that makes me sad. I am homesick (home being that place where artists go when they make art. I haven’t been there in ages, and I miss it. I miss it so much it hurts).

Maybe it was all of the above and now the calling is so loud I can’t sleep at night. Who knows? What I do know is that this morning I woke up with a furious need to get my ass in gear.

My problem is discipline. I have all the ideas and passion in the universe, I just never learned to give them the time they deserve. I was too busy convincing myself that art only happens when it’s inspired.

I am extremely bored of that now. I want to do things. I want to make things. I want to share things, and learn things, and accomplish things. Real things.

So, after investing some money in new art supplies (partly so that I can stay organized and partly because it’s new stationery, duh) I made a decision to commit to all the things I have been neglecting these last few months. And then, instead of letting this website die, I paid to get it back. Because it’s mine. And it’s a little step in the right direction.

I won’t promise anything right now (I need to really think about my schedule before I commit to it), but at the very least, one post here a week shouldn’t be difficult at all.

I mean, come on. Surely I can’t be that lazy.



Remember Me?

When I was a wee young thing, I was quite a nerd. I had near perfect grades and to this day I keep a folder that contains all the wonderful certificates that prove my academic (and athletic) achievements. My peers tried to bully me back then, probably because they were jealous of my awesomeness, but it didn’t work. I wasn’t afraid of them and even more so, the glory of being a top achiever was worth the torment of being an outsider.

To my young brain, there was no better representation of said glory, than seeing my name on numerous plaques, immortalized as the best at whatever I tried (except maths, in which I was listed as second best).

Continue reading “Remember Me?”

10 Steps to Self-Publishing

Today I truly stopped giving a fuck about what every other writer on Earth is doing to make money from their self-published works. All that has ever bought me is anxiety and suffering because this industry is rough and I just don’t have the resources to compete.

So, friends, I am going to run my own race now. Wait, I am too lazy to run races. I am going to slowly march to the beat of my very own hand-crafted drum. The outside world no longer concerns me. I’m going to do things MY way.

Continue reading “10 Steps to Self-Publishing”