“Would you look at the monogamy on that one”, we’d yelp as she walked down the street, or into the restaurant, or on some sort of public...
Tina sat in her chair fuming. She hated everything about her life. Her ugly cubicle, the ridiculous new account she was on, her idiotic boss – most...
About ten years back I knew a super talented designer. They had more than just pure skill, their dedication and hard work ethic opened doors for them....
I was having a chat with two other gentlemen at the eMarketing Association conference (eM13) this evening when I noticed something: we were all single founders with...
I’m CEO of Cubicle Ninjas, a creative design and development agency. By night I’m an independent comic artist and writer whose work has been featured by Adobe, Wall Street Journal, Der Spiegel, and read by over 1 million nice people.
Want to hit snooze. Want it to be a sunny day. Want to eat it all and just let those pounds slip away. Want a better commute. Want a gig that pays what I’m worth. Want whatever she’s having. Want to be trusted to do my goddamn job. Want to leave at 5 without ducking. Want more smiles outside with the ones I love. Want them to stay this age forever. Want put my head on that pillow and sleep.
That all you got?
Want compassion to be a virus. Want a brain that makes knees weak and the heart that knows how to use it. Want the opportunity to prove. Want you, and me, and yes please. Want to be worth all the effort placed on me. Want to overthrow, without fanfare. Want to take back what I said when I was 6 because I was an asshole and I didn’t mean it. Want to, want to be free from wants.
Keep em’ coming.
Want screams of pure joy to be commonplace. Want reality to make fiction fear. Want just five more minutes to say goodbye. Want to know that God is real and this moment matters. Want to see that death is the start of a new beginning. Want to tug at the corners of the universe and be surprised.
Leave them wanting. Not so hard, eh?
Looking for something to amuse and entertain in 2014?
My apologies, all I have is my new blog Draw the Damn Thing. Each day I’ll throw a sketch into the faceless void of the internet. Each day I’ll disappoint. Then we can all start again fresh tomorrow, bursting with the hope that something will be different.
Shia LaBeouf debuted a short film he wrote and directed at the 2012 Cannes Film Festival called “HowardCantour.com”. This week it launched online. Within 24 hours Jordan Zakarin at Buzzfeed found out that “wrote and directed” was secret Shia code for “blatantly ripped off”. The entire piece is 95% unaltered from a Daniel Clowes’ comic called “Justin M. Damiano”. The whole drama continued on Twitter where Shia said:
Copying isn’t particularly creative work. Being inspired by someone else’s idea to produce something new and different IS creative work. — Shia LaBeouf (@thecampaignbook) December 17, 2013
In my excitement and naiveté as an amateur filmmaker, I got lost in the creative process and neglected to follow proper accreditation — Shia LaBeouf (@thecampaignbook) December 17, 2013
And we can’t forget:
I was truly moved by his piece of work & I knew that it would make a poignant & relevant short. I apologize to all who assumed I wrote it. — Shia LaBeouf (@thecampaignbook) December 17, 2013
Shia unexpectedly quit the play “Orphans” early in 2013. He released his email conversations with other actors and the director online. In his email he copied most of the content from “What Is a Man?” and represented it as his own. Shia Labeouf’s plagiarism was handled lightly by even the author of the piece.
So we have two documented cases of theft. What kind of person would steal so aggressively? How couldn’t it have been caught earlier? What else has he stolen without review? Here is what I found.
“Would you look at the monogamy on that one”, we’d yelp as she walked down the street, or into the restaurant, or on some sort of public transportation which would signify her plain normalcy.
Tina sat in her chair fuming.
She hated everything about her life. Her ugly cubicle, the ridiculous new account she was on, her idiotic boss – most of the time she stared at the ceiling and wondered how her company even existed. Tina had hit rock bottom and this horrible place was her 10-ton anchor.
So, she decided to get revenge. She eased up on her work like those fat cats in the glass offices, and she pretended not to know the answers to anything like those dopes in IT, and she sulked by the fridge doling out rumors to anyone that could plod within earshot. She would beat them at their own game yet.
Five and a half years ago I started Cubicle Ninjas and I poured my soul into every action, ever so gleefully. Living eighteen hour days, within seven day work weeks, was not only expected, but to dream otherwise began to feel downright selfish. This absolute obsession (along with a brilliant creative team and oodles of luck) provided the momentum we needed to survive and grow into a thriving studio.
This year I decided to take a breath. And when my eyes adjusted to sunlight I had a creepy thought: where do I begin and this amorphous pile of legal papers end?
Death isn’t a hard concept to get. Things stop; all of them. But what shivers the neurons is the idea that all of our adventures end so bluntly.
One day our experiences are so neatly returned. A lifetime of emotions, each as breathless as to make the written world feel shame, are destroyed. Our frames , and those we love, are reduced to fragments and forced dance around each other through infinity. There is no way to believe that all of this was for nothing. We can’t believe a life could be worth so little. There are no sufficient goodbyes.
This is the story of two Pokemon, doubt, and a dying bird.