Author Archives: littledragonblue

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About littledragonblue

Dreamer, Writer, Artist, Lover

Be Funny

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Panel 4: Interrobang!

The pressure to accomplish something every day simply because someone else expects you to is a tremendous motivator. For years, the Fox and I emailed each other every day for “accountability.” We would share our word count, or number of pages edited, or queries submitted, like that. Definitely, there came days when I would have just skipped writing, except that it shamed me because he would know that I failed. So I wrote a lot more to keep from disappointing my friend.

Practically every night I think my ideas are good when I come up with them, OK as I create them, and terrible when I upload. Usually trolls don’t excoriate me. Maybe once or twice a year, although 137 upvotes/messages might be an exaggeration. Still, it’s enough to keep me going. Yesterday I was thinking about quitting. Today 7 people told me they hoped I didn’t. So, you know….

If you are among those who get something out of this work and don’t want me to quit, please consider making a small monthly donation to my Patreon. For the price of a cup of coffee a month, you could make a difference in the life of an artist. And to my 2 current Patreon patrons, thank you! You are appreciated.

 

Not Funny

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Look, there is *nothing* wrong with a man having small hands. But speaking as an artist who spends a lot of time thinking about what hands look like, the guy has small hands.

I’m not entirely sure how long I’ll be able to keep drawing webcomics, in part because drawing webcomics is not a lucrative profession, but also because I started drawing webcomics with the intention of being funny, and increasingly, as the days go by, I don’t feel funny. I hear myself making jokes at parties and people laughing at them, and I still don’t feel like anything’s funny. I feel like I’m pretending to be funny. Being funny right now is like dressing in drag. The end result may be stunning, but it knows it’s playing an imitation game.

Watching my work become increasingly unfunny scares me, despite the positive feedback for telling the truth.

The effect of the Desmond Tutu comic–3 serious panels, followed by a punchline–seemed like a good compromise, so I tried it again. I leave it to the reader to decide. Can I put swastikas in panel 2 and banana cream pies in panel 4? Admittedly, this piece has a little less cohesion than The Fourfold Path.

Panel 2 was troublesome. I Googled “anti-semitic graffiti,” but I couldn’t bring myself to reproduce most of the things I found. I’m not saying “kike” is the line for me–I bet a lot of people wouldn’t even recognize it as a slur, and it certainly isn’t an n-bomb–but I didn’t want it in my comic, either. It’s hard enough going through life knowing that there are people who flat-out want me dead because of the shape of my nose.

Anything I could say about panel 3 has already been said by commentators more eloquent than I. As we transition into a world where the president of the United States thinks it’s perfectly fine to publicly, in front of a large audience and many cameras, mock a man’s physical disability while that man is attempting to do his job, who can really predict the depth of the rabbit hole? What does comedy even mean in this world? Reality is more bizarre and unpredictable than any joke I could think of. I’m the rare person who never enjoyed The Daily Show because it frankly depresses me that comedians were the only people telling the truth, and that they had that much to say.

If you would like to read the sad comic reproduced in panel one, you can find it here: The Weight of the World.

Dave McKean, if you are unfamiliar with his name, is the artist who created the covers for Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman, among other things.

In real life, my hips are not that small. But I guess in real life, the president-elect is not that orange. The size of his hands, the color of his skin: these are the least of the problematic concepts that those who believe in equality, freedom, and the First Amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America will struggle to explain to ourselves and the children in our lives in the coming months.

Winter Garden Mandala

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Mmm…Christmas Cabbage

You know that documentary where the guy eats nothing but McDonald’s for 30 days? I’m doing a similar experiment, except with gingerbread and it’s only day 4 and my liver is probably ready to be foie gras at this point. Actually, I hid the last bit of gingerbread in the freezer, but as fans of the popular early reading series Frog and Toad are well aware, that isn’t likely to keep me from eating gingerbread. We gave away 3/4 of the gingerbread, and there is still gingerbread.

There’s a reason I only do this once a year.

It is very artistic gingerbread. We use cookie cutters for the shapes, and then we frost them with buttercream icing in every color of the rainbow and then we add candy, sprinkle, nonpareils, colored sugar, marshmallow, what have you. Every cookie is unique. Also,  eating one cookie is kind of like eating a small cake. We went to 2 holiday parties over the weekend and I didn’t sample anyone else’s cookies. Because I was too busy eating my cookies.

Might have to go sugar-free for a couple months next year.

Elementary Class Consciousness, 2016

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The times are tough now, just getting tougher/This old world is rough, it’s just getting rougher

The first place I ever encountered the phrase “class consciousness” was in Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. Of course. “I’m really awfully glad I’m a Beta.” Everyone in that book is conditioned to be happy with where they are and what they have. In the real world, you meet a lot of discontent people. Some of them seem to achieve everything with little effort but never feel like they’ve acquired enough. Some of them seem to throw themselves full throttle into their own survival and barely earn enough to subsist.

And then, because we aren’t conditioned to like where we are, but rather to believe that we deserve to go further, and can if we just put our backs into it, sometimes the masses notice that all their hard work only enriches those who have more and do less, and then they rise up against their oppressors in class warfare. That’s the theory, anyway.

In my imagination, all 4 panels should have been a contiguous street scene where the management lady interacted with the hourly laborer in front of a building where the disabled veteran sat and the limousine was parked, but my art-fu has not advanced that far. Perspective is like a foreign language to me.

Merry Christmas. It’s not my holiday, and I don’t understand it, but it seems like an especially depressing proposition this year.

Boilerplate

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If you get woke on your own time, we assume you won’t be coming back in to work ever.

I assure you, the system is rigged, and I came from the plus side, so it’s not like it’s sour grapes or anything. America is rigged, more or less, in my general favor, providing I work within certain parameters. Despite my obvious flaws and handicaps (complete lack of work ethic, little interest in advancement, antagonism toward authority, zero respect for anything, inability to comprehend or observe social norms, failure to ever do anything for 8 hours at a time except sleep) the world is biased toward me, because I have fair skin and multiple degrees (obtained without accruing student debt), speak the language of the culture of power as my first dialect, and hold an inherent belief regarding the value of my own skill set. Even the fact that I was assigned female at birth and only loosely conform to gender expectations doesn’t shut me out because my upper-middle class upbringing has always assured me that I’m totally within my right to say, “My time is extremely valuable, and if you want me to do something that’s not my idea, you’ll have to pay what it’s worth to me.” I know so many people who are more talented than I am, or at least better employees, by an order of magnitude, who have struggled all their lives and worked 10 times harder than I ever did, but weren’t born into my circumstances, and can’t get past the built-in obstacles designed to prevent them from advancing.

So, yeah. A lot of the people who enjoy the benefits of this imbalance actively work to maintain that imbalance even while offering lip service to progress.

Some folks have called the current crisis in the US the last gasp of white male supremacy, but I honestly don’t think the system is designed to break open like that. Things change–sometimes slowly, sometimes in big jumps, and sometimes going backwards for a little bit before they can move ahead again–but the world is built on what’s come before. We never wipe civilization out and start with a blank slate. It’s going to be a while before those cold, gray hands loosen their grip on the reins. You might not see them, but they’re there, and they’re not ready to let go, not until a critical mass of everyone gets woke and forcibly removes them from the driver’s seat.

Hopefully people will appreciate my webcomics in that reality.

The Fourfold Path

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Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just do the releasing the relationship thing?

It’s not like I intentionally hold grudges, but some people just crawl under your skin and poke at you like so many grass seeds stuck inside a pair of wool socks. Maybe reading this Desmond Tutu book (The Book of Forgiving) will help me find release from the irritation. But also, nothing’s sacred.

So far it’s an interesting work. It’s hard to imagine people embracing their torturers, the murderers of their loved ones, but apparently people do it. Perhaps the truth and reconciliation process will seem more obvious when I get farther into the book. He’s probably onto something with this fourfold path. Definitely, hanging on to anger and seeking revenge is terrible for your mental health. I think I’ve shared the avuncular Syd Lea’s “The Feud” before; it pretty much spells out what that mentality does to a person.

It’s magical that I managed to draw this comic tonight. I started to get a headache, took some medicine, wrote the script, and then got hit with a tidal wave of migraine, that kind of pain that makes you think you might throw up at that very moment. So I turned off all the lights and sat quietly in the dark drinking fizzy water and breathing until the pain got bearable again, and then I drew the pictures. My head just hurts a normal amount; I think the full-blown migraine happened because the winter sun comes into the kitchen at just the right angle to hit me in the eyes when I make dinner this time of year.

I tried to to the shading but it’s not all there and my eyes just couldn’t look anymore. It’s still a good comic.

Dragon Comics 149

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I need all the friends I can get.

This long-neck brontosaurus (I was delighted to read that “brontosaurus” is no longer considered a misidentification) is a friend of the Fox’s who often attended his writing parties. However, for various random reasons, for months and months we never managed to attend the same writing parties, and by the time we did meet, she was already planning to move out of state. And it takes me so long to really become friends with people. She is cool, but she is planning her going-away party.

It’s so weird that I live “out west” and yet people I meet here just keep managing to move farther west.

Thinking about tonight’s comic, and my new friend’s leave-taking, I remembered that she once told me if I ever drew her in a comic she thought she should be a dinosaur, that other people thought she looked like a dinosaur. Everyone agreed she should be depicted as a brontosaurus, so that’s pretty easy to draw.

It just occurred to me that a meeting/friendship between a dragon and a dinosaur is both natural and comical.

Squash Blossom Mandala

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They are tasty fried. Although I will eat flowers however they’re served. 

Presumably there was some real-world inspiration for this design, perhaps my next door neighbor’s garden, but that original motivation has been lost to time. Even though the page is mostly white and the axes of the mandala aren’t even approaching symmetrical, this still amuses me. Nine arms and no sense.

I have seen Star Wars. I have attended holiday parties. I have made impossible New Year’s resolutions. Yay, December.

 

Metamorphosis

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I know it sounds cliché but I just feel like I need to spread my wings right about now. It’s, you know, time for me to fly.

Eventually he should catch up, right? But by then she’ll be dead, because butterflies don’t live that long. These May-December romances can be problematic. For example, mismatched sex drives (nonexistent in caterpillars). It’s imperative to start therapy immediately upon recognizing the problem or there’ll be nothing left to save.

In addition to this very silly comic, today, in honor of Miss Kitty’s birthday, I also baked the richest chocolate cake I’ve ever eaten. Thirty years too late for me to truly enjoy it. Ah, well. I’ve metamorphosized, too. Also into something more colorful.

Dragon Comics 148

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Seriously, you *never* hear people talking about goodwill in the spring or summer. 

It’s not my holiday, and I’ve never understood it. For most of my life, Christmas comprised a glorious chunk of time in which everybody left me alone long enough to focus on whatever consumed me in that moment. The few years of my adulthood I was invited/persuaded to participate in some sort of seasonal celebration I felt like a martian.

Well, even more of martian than usual.

In panel 4, I guess I was going for some kind of tannenbaum/dreidel mashup. The tree came out well and it deserved a little spotlight attention.