Like a giant Failjitas

Its fucking not morphing time. Or its that the morphing thingy is over.

I need to explain myself a little.

You see, since my childhood, I got those moment where I'm all " I'm gonna rule the world". In these peculiar times, I either convince myself to be more helpful, or to forget about gratitude for me, or be more in shape, or simply be better man. Whatever.

Its like the whole thing is, not only possible, but also close to me. Like I can FEEL it. I'm gonna be like this or that, maybe not in no time, but I'll be!
But let me tell you, its not like that. In fact, it seems that the harder I try, the less result I got. And so the spiral goes down. Its not only that I don't get the result I wanted. its not about the hard work behind my original intentions. It completely randomize the universe. The simple life equation, like we are told, is : The harder is the effort, the better is the result. Something like "1% talent, 49% will, 50% effort" should be something on what we could rely on. Something we can construct on. Human potential should be the way of life, do what you can, and you cannot do it wrong. But guess what.



I failed it.

My very history, is one of contradiction and irony. The level of random is so high the NASA could not measure it from mars. Like a fajitas you stuff too much: You see its impressive, but you can't really understand the immensity of it, until your put it in your mouth, and realize that you wont be able to finish that bite. And so, even if I'm award of what I can do and what's not even an option, I still try. Cause it may work out. Cause if I put 99% effort more than usual, it'll come out right. But instead, its chaos. Its goes everywhere, and I' much obligated to follow and/or eventually bear the consequences. There's a graphic about the randomness in my life. Look at it, there's some colors!



Like those days at job. Shits happens.


And so then, I get not only no positivity, but I even look like a retarded junk that can't do his job. Maybe I'll should stay behind a desk, and just never leave my chair again. I wish I could survive with this blog. But I'm not that Awesome. Not yet. And that tiny voice in my head (God I hate it) keep telling me that I'll never be. I would be the incarnated being of a thunder god, giant mustached frog, it would not matter. I'm doomed to b the red mage, never a specialist. Like the fajitas is stuck in my mouth, and my throat is playing hide and seek.

EDIT: Ok. so I got some problems with a set of images. I'll need to drawn them again, but separately, it seems. Well, the job-related sketches will be back soon.

EDIT: Well, I don't remember what the picture were supposed to be, so ... forget it. sorry.