I deserve more.

Sorry for the late post. Computer troubles, etc. I'm sure you understand. Also, sorry for the shit scan, I really can't be bothered to fix it at this point.

Yup, no comic this week. Big apologies to the WBDM fans out there, but if you really wanted to know what happened this week, I'll give you the text version.

Panel 1: I throw up.
Panel 2: I throw up.
Panel 3: I throw up.
Panel 4: Job Interview.

"Woah, woah, woah!" You say. "What was that last part? A job interview? Garrett, you son of a bitch, congratulations!"

Yeah. I got a job now working for a marketing company selling knives. Something about the whole thing seemed kind of shady to me going in, but I figured as long as I'm not giving them my money, I really don't have all that much to lose. Training begins on Thursday. Anyone want to buy some sick-ass knives?

This week has been a bizarre one, to put it simply. To put it even more simply, I'm a god-damn moron. I see these problems on the horizon and think, "Nope. Not this time. This time I'm fucking bullet-proof." I haven't been able to keep food in my stomach longer than 2 hours. I'm not sure if it's nerves or a stomach bug or something, but this has been going on for something close to a week now, and I can feel myself get weak and grumpy so much easier than I used to.

I'm afraid I'm reverting into a person I used to be, and that is terrifying.

Well here you go guys, my comic for the week. So our main character wakes up and finds that he is no longer in his car or anywhere near the car accident.

I planned on coloring it, but alas I just didn't get around to it. Well I am pretty exhausted so I will update this post a little more when I am in more of a state of full awareness, but for now enjoy the artwork.

-Bill

New Friends.

Sorry the comic looks like garbage this week. I've been all kind of sick. It's hard to tell if this is anxiety or a legitimate bug, but I can't keep food down for longer than an hour.

I haven't eaten anything solid in almost 3 days. I've been living off a diet of my mother's old Cure-Alls -- Pepto-Bismol and Ginger Ale. Needless to say, I'm feeling weak and tired. Taking a note from Bill's post last week, this comic is part fiction, part reality.

I've been thinking long and hard about what to post about this week. My head hasn't been on straight for the longest time. I'm running into old acquaintances, making new ones. It's been pretty damn eventful.

Just so you know, the last 2 panels are left intentionally without color.

I guess I don't really have much else to say. Stay tuned, loyal readers. Let's see how this all turns out.

Hello Reader,
I'm back again a lot of things have been going on in my life that required my attention, so I apologize for the lack of posts.

Like I promised I am going to start a comic series as well starting with this post, and let me talk about it a little first. I love to play Dungeons and Dragons, but lately there has been a lack of playing it, numerous reasons really. This though is going to be my solution to coop with the lack of it for the mean time.

Call me old fashioned and cheesy, but yes, as you probably can guess, this is a comic were its "all a dream" because of the car crash I am put into a dream like state where my desire for the fantasy world comes to life and my new reality.

On a side note: One of the reasons I have been away from WBDM is because I actually was in a car accident when we had the big thunder/snow storm last Tuesday. As you can tell though, I am fine.

Happy Birthday To You

Last night was Alex's 21st birthday, and as good friend of the WBDM team, I made this little comic as a remembrance of last night.

Another good friend of the WBDM decided to bring a lady friend with us to the celebration, and this lady, as nice as she is, just doesn't shut up. An entire hour went on without her stopping to breathe. It was really a spectacle to behold.

Alex, already lost all of his patience, lays down the rules.

Poor guy.

We went to a pool hall and had a genuinely good time. Alex got right and shit-faced as is customary on a 21st birthday. We played some pool, I'm terrible at it, but it was fun.

Being underage, I got to be Designated Driver. That suited me just fine. I don't drink that much any more after an incident during Christmas. Let's just put it this way; a near-full bottle of 103 proof whiskey, an hour and a half and then an empty bottle of 103 proof whiskey. That was certainly not a good night for me.

It's the same thing for me every time. I don't know my limits until I'm laying in bed, clutching my gut and muttering "I don't want to die" into my pillow. I'm still young and have a full life ahead of me to make mistakes and I really, really can't wait to make them

Impromptu Filler Content.

No art this time. Sorry.

Bill would like me to apologize for not having an update this week. He's been absolutely swamped with real life things. Us here at WBDM Headquarters would like to wish him the best of luck.

Since this is all sort of spur-of-the-moment content, I'd just like to briefly go over what White Boy Dance Moves means to me. To me, this is 1 part art, 1 part wishy-washy web log and 10 parts opportunity to spend time with a friend I don't get to see all that often any more.

I think since we first met in Middle School, Bill and I had pretty much the same passion for Art. I wanted a sort of outlet for my drawing, and I wanted Bill to become involved. He's definitely a very talented individual whom I deeply, deeply respect. 

We were talking one day about his fears for the future. I can certainly relate. The future for an artist is uncertain at best, even worse for an art teacher. I approached Bill and gave him the offer to co-write a blog with me. Not really as a business venture or anything, but simply a way to pass the time and share what we both love. I've been simply ecstatic that he decided to join me in this silly little endeavour and really enjoy checking on Thursdays for what my friend has to say.

We're still in the infancy stages of this project, but I see big things in the future for White Boy Dance Moves, and couldn't think of a better man to co-pilot this with me.

God speed, William. I hope you find your silver lining.

We are not a healthy people.

Hey. Don't judge me. I'm allowed to be a shitty person every now and again.

I've been thinking a lot lately. We, as a people, are 5 million years worth of evolutionary growth. Maybe it's time we started acting like it.

For every good thing we're given, we've found a way to completely ruin it. We're given a perfectly good set of lungs, we fuck them up with cigarette smoke. We fall in love, we hurt them over petty jealousy. We're given every opportunity in the world the change your life for the better and we just sit on our hands and say "No. I'm not ready yet".

But you know what? Sometimes it's just not our fault. Sometimes we're just stupid or afraid. Hell, I know I'm guilty of it. We're too timid and broken to realize we may have something good. It's kind of silly, when you stop and really think about it. How many great opportunities have you turned down because you were timid?

We've all been hurt one way or another. We're a species of broken individuals. If you've made it this far through life and don't have any bruises or scars to show for it, congratulations, you're not a human being but an automaton.

I don't know. My head hurts. There isn't some sort of magic wand that you can wave and make all of your hurt disappear. We all have our coping mechanisms, and I can see just how easy it is to become bitter and sceptical. I don't want to live like that. So I'll just keep trudging on wearing my bruises as badges and see what lays ahead for me.

I want everyone, just once, when they come to a crossroad to decide immediately on making the choice that would affect them in a positive way instead of standing there with a thumb up their butt. That's what I'm going to try to do.