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Maria Korchagin
16 May 2004 @ 10:02 pm
This weekend was my first Anime convention. Not my first convention, but my first anime one. It was me and 8000 more people, in a bigass hotel with freezing coridors, paying homage to anime.

As with all conventions, an insane amount of stuff happened. It only ended today, and yet I already have trouble telling what happened when. I remember everything that happened, but it takes a few extra seconds to put everything in the correct chronological order.

I won't expound too much on what went on. For one thing, some things that happened there... need to stay there. If you know what I mean. For another thing, most people who read this journal who care about all the stuff I did were either there themselves or I'll tell them in person. But I will point out some of the highlights.

First and foremost, I met silverstrings for the first time on Thursday! I've known her online for about 7 years now. She is probably either the 3rd or the 4th oldest online friend I have. Two of the others are maradydd and somebody else who doesn't have an LJ as far as I know. On Thursday, I finally met her for lunch, and soon thereafter we were in a car, on our way to A-Cen. I had also met silverstrings's girlfriend Jen, Go-chan, Aya, Youji and Misha, who were all really really cool.

There was a really cool artist that I met at A-cen. His name is Dirk and he runs this site. He does awesome comics.

I only did the Artist Alley thing on Friday... Saturday, the skit and hanging out with the UofC people ate my time and my soul... and Sunday it was time to leave. Very sad. But I did sell some pictures, and I did get to do one commission. It was color pencil, Saki and Kurumi from Steel Angel Kurumi hugging, and I loved doing it... but about 90% through my pencil sharpener broke and so I had to finish what I could with silverstrings's markers. :( But I still think it turned out really well! Only sad thing is that I gave it away before I could scan it, so I can't show it.

The UofC JAS Club (anime club, basically) put on two skits at the con Masquerade, both of which were insanely funny. I was on stage, and I laughed, that's how funny it was. In one of them, my friends Stephen, Marcel, Jono, Jeremy and Aza dressed up as Pocky boxes and danced on stage to Yatta. And in the other, Sushi, Alexis, Isaac, Jim, Kat, and Helena dressed up as characters from Eva, some other anime I do not know, with Jim ripping off his clothes to turn into Lupin III and Isaac ripping off his clothes to become Sailor Moon. I was rolling on the floor. My friends are so cool! Except for islandwalk. He flaked out on us Saturday night... and not even too late, either. Yes, Mickey, I'm still mad at you! :)

Aaaah, I SO wanna draw draw draw! But I'm really tired. Over the course of the con, I got about 15 hours of sleep total (that's summed over three nights) and I ate a total of about a meal and a half (over four days), so I came home really weak today. It's 10 pm and I'm tired. But I had tons tons tons of fun. I didn't want it to end. I won't see Kelley or anybody from that group again for a really long time, if ever... which makes me sad. And I won't see the anime club people till Wednesday, and that makes me a little sad too. I've only known most of them for 2-3 weeks, and I love them all to bits already. It's only been today since I saw them last... I miss them all already. :)

YLLA'S ART GALLERY! :: SKETCHBOOK
 
 
Maria Korchagin
24 April 2004 @ 11:01 pm
This is basically a complaint on how people delegate responsibility instead of taking it themselves. If you're only here to look at pictures, just skip over this post :)

This was triggered by the one episode of The Practice that I saw last night.

Like all moderately good tv series, The Practice has two plotlines going on at once. One of the plotlines is decent. The other...

A kid dies on the street from alcohol overdose. His family sues the beer company for damages.
As is all such shows, the "good guys", the family of course wins, regardless of how bad the prosecuting lawyer was. The jury awarded the family some five-digit number of dollars for one thing and some seven digit number of dollars for something else. There will be appeals. The family will never see any of the money. This whole thing was just to "make a difference" and "hurt the beermaking industry". This similar kind of thing happened in The Runaway Jury (except they were a lot smarter about it). They make movies about this all the time.

Why is it that they think that the beer company was responsible for that kid's death?
Yeah, he was a good kid. Yeah, he was hot. But he drunk himself into the grave. Nobody forced the beer down his throat.

They said in the show that alcohol even has some benefits and that bad things happen only through abuse. But you could abuse anything! Anything can be used as a weapon, both against yourself and other people. Anything from the oxygen we breathe to the shoes we wear to the 100 lb Bristol paper I drew that Navy Retirement picture on.

What happened to the days when people took responsibility for their actions?

I have no pity for that kid. He did it to himself. And I have no pity for his family. They didn't try hard enough to stop him. And although I understand their grief to some extent, it is nobody's fault but their own. Suing Heineken for being a productive and profitable business is morally wrong. Take some responsibility.

Same thing with McDonalds. McDonalds is bad for you, just like alcohol is. If you eat their food three times a day for ten years, and as a result you are the size of a small elephant, I have no pity for you. If you die, I have no pity for you. You did it to yourself. Suing McDonalds for making a product that could be abused is morally wrong. Take some responsibility.

And if you are over 300 pounds, don't go trying to be a personal trainer and then complain that no gym would hire you. If you can't even keep your own ass from spreading onto the four airplane seats around you, how the hell do you propose to make someone else's body fit? Suing the gym for refusing your fat ass a trainer job is morally wrong, on two counts. First has already been stated. The second is that nobody, ever, under any circumstances, can assume to be owed a job. So take some responsibility.

Screwing up and then demanding "damages" for your own screw up is morally wrong. Nobody owes you anything if you're too stupid to stop yourself from overdosing. This isn't a case of a person being hit by a car. If you're hit by a car, by all means, sue them, make their life miserable. But if you hit yourself, if you chose to lie out on the highway at night, nobody owes you anything. And I have no pity for you.
 
 
Maria Korchagin
28 March 2004 @ 01:11 pm
This is a special entry, dedicated to a wonderful person, who is unfortunatelly no longer with us.

His name is Aleksandr Petrovich Kapitsa. He died last night of a heart attack. Recently, he's been famous for directing the russian cop series "Менты".

I have met him twice. He was a good friend of my dad's, and when we all went to St Petersburg two summers ago, we met with Aleksandr Petrovich for lunch in a very cute little restaurant, where he told me all about Russian literature and severely impressed on me that I read "Герой Нашего Времени". The second time I've seen him was at my dad's 50th Birthday party this past August. Both times, he was a fun, witty man, a pleasure to talk to.

My mother still has to pass some photos of us and him to his family. None of us can attend his funeral in St. Petersburg.

I got the photo at this page. It's a page that calls him the "father of russian tv series". It's an interview with him.
http://fessenko.nm.ru/Kapitsa/kapitsa.htm

I will always remember him.
 
 
Current Music: Sailor Jupiter - "We Believe You"
 
 
Maria Korchagin
27 March 2004 @ 01:06 am
I first realized it in June of 2000 or 2001 when my computer's harddrive let out its magic smoke and stopped working when I was halfway through a calendar project I was running for Wintersmith Dreams. I was working on coloring a piece that Karine-sama drew and inked, of her character Kanthara and some girl with a violin in a room. I was almost done coloring it when the crash happened. I lost the picture. I lost all the .psd files of all the things I'd colored up until that day. I lost the rest of the images for the calendar, ones done by other people. I lost all programs, music, video clips, school essays, everything. The only good thing was that this happened in June, when it could no longer affect my grades.

I was a bit frustrated that I had to re-do the whole picture. But what was interesting is that I, a chronic archiver who doesn't delete anything, was completely unaffected that all trace of my efforts on so many projects and drawings and collections has disappeared. I had a favorite picture that I'd done before then, of Alisa's character Ten'yuu. I lost the original, big .psd file for it, so the only things I have now is one print on regular printer paper, and the digital .jpg file that was on my site. I should have been sad that I lost the .psd file, since that was my favorite picture. I was not. I'd lost all my music. I simply shrugged and went to download some more.

It's strange how easy it is for me to let go. I don't know what my favorite drawing of mine is, but whatever it is, if I were never to see it again, I wouldn't be sad. I really liked my Chii drawing, the profile one, the one my page is based on, but I sold it to Greg. It's in New York now, somewhere across the Tappan Zee.

It doesn't bother me when things I like go out of my life forever. It bothers me that it doesn't bother me.

I've never considered physical evidence important. Diaries, for example. I only write in diaries when I'm not ok. I wrote diary entries in a yellow bookie that served as a diary-planner combo all through Senior year of high school. I guess I wasn't ok. I couldn't talk to anybody about what was happening in my mind and in my heart, and so I poured it all out into a diary. This Thanksgiving, when I had finally parted wtih everything that had anything to do with anything bad in my life, I went home, did some Fall Cleaning, threw out two or three such diaries. It wasn't an act of defiance, since, after all, nothing was ever written down about Kelly. I simply didn't care to have the memories. They hurt a little bit. I didn't want to reread the entries I made before, during and after that weekend that I spent at the UofC in February of 2002. They're gone now. I will never be able to re-read them. But I still remember, the happy moments and the sad.

All I need is what's in my head.

My memories.

Perhaps that's why there's so few photos. I've been in more than one relationship in my life, and each has been exhillirating at one point or another. There's not a single picture of me together with him or him or any of them. Nai.

Sometimes I wish there were photos... but then I wonder if they're really that important. After all, they're stills. A still snapshot of a face. Could that possibly be as worthwhile as a whole entire memory, with its sounds and smells and feelings and passage of time?

All the pictures I have... are in my head. Maybe that's why I draw, to hold on. Naw, that's silly. It's not like I draw my own things. What I draw is cartoon characters in still poses. No story. Maybe that's why it's so easy to let go of my most precious drawings. Or maybe it's like Andy said... if I can do it once, I can do it again...

I'm writing in a diary. Online diary, online journal, but a diary nonetheless. Does that mean I'm not ok?

大丈夫。信じているよ。
 
 
Current Music: Sailor Jupiter - "We Believe You"
 
 
Maria Korchagin
20 March 2004 @ 12:38 am
Yeah, that I am de gozaru na. Not without adventures, mind you!

Since I'd finished my exams on Wednesday morning (and did nothing for the rest of the day except draw draw draw and go out to get food), the target date to leave was going to be Thursday, in the morning. Don't let my writing style fool you -- I did leave on Thursday, even though it was about noon. The plan was to cover the 800-something miles in two 400-mile stretches, one Thursday, one Friday, stopping in Girard, OH, like I did in June.

But, of course, being me, I did what my mother calls "getting ready like thieves to a faire". I got up early (for me, and that means before 3 pm), looked around my room, sighed and started pushing all the stuff I was going to take along out the door and into the hall. Lisa even asked me if I was moving out. I took the afghan I'd knitted back in Hackley (my first ever, and only so far, and it has so many problems with it!), and I packed two big heavy-duty glossy shopping bags (the kind with little ropes for handles) with books and cds and other junk. I took my stereo. I took my 3-drawer plastic thing that I used to keep clothes and food and such junk in and that served me as a table right before I moved to Chicago. I even took my horses carpet that I'd finished last Valentines Day, the day before that thing happened. It's so bare on the wall over my bed now without the carpet there. I packed all the stuff into the elevator, and I then packed it in the car. I said goodbye to Maclean for this quarter. I'd be back, but not for another week and a half.

I came back of course. I'd forgotten the sushi in my fridge. And I went to drop some things off, to get some money, to give a friend my ID so that he can have free food in the cafeteria. I somehow got lunch out of it all. Got gas. Went off onto I-90 (the same that could take me to Seattle in the other direction) which then joined I-80 somewhere in Indiana, which later broke off from the original to take me to Girard. I didn't take a map, or printed-out directions.

100 miles out of Chicago, I realized I'd forgotten to sign out. Phonecalls ensued, on the road, illegally, first to find out the Maclean number (2-2700, I won't forget it anymore I don't think), then to impress upon the lady that she could sign me out without me actually being there. It worked. Except that I'd also forgotten something in my room, something I'd really prefer to have with me in New York this break. I had to call four different numbers and talk to just as many people and answering machines to get someone to go into my room and get it out. It really is getting more and more difficult to break into the dorms.

By 8 pm, I was 400 miles away from home. Either home. Chicago or New York. And a million miles away from Moscow. I was on I-80, and I'd just gotten off the Ohio Turnpike. At the toll I paid my $8.15. The nice lady in the tollbooth reassured me that I did not miss Girard along the turnpike, that it was still ahead, and I would see the exit soon. I did, and I took it.

I got off the highway, and I could turn right (towards the sort of darkish road, with a distinct absence of a Holiday Inn sign) or to the left (a road that lead to more lights and businesses but also did not bear a Holiday Inn sign). I turned left. Drove 4 miles. Turned around. Drove 6 in the other direction. I remembered the hotel from last year. It was right on the road, amazingly easy to find, with a big big sign that was easy to see, but I did not see it. Slightly miffed, I turned back and drove for about 2 miles back to the highway, back under it, and back across the first way I'd come.

Suddenly I feld like I'd failed to pay attention enough that I drove over a curb. The car pulled to the right, and then left. I felt an odd twitch. I turned off the radio. I'd never felt this before, but I knew what it was. I didn't even need to get out. I put on my blinkers, and, completely disregarding things like traffic, curbs, red lights and my car's sudden lack of wheel alignment, pulled into the nearest gas station. Yeah, I had a blowout. Good thing it happened while I was going at 5 miles per hour, looking everywhere but forward, in hopes of seeing a hotel sign.

Getting the tire changed wasn't a problem. I called Subaru. They called local towing people. Two guys came in, cranked my car off the ground, changed to a spare, wished me luck and left. Oh, but I did have to unpack my entire trunk to get that spare out. And it was snow-raining, you know, the kind of snow that falls in BIG big flakes, but melts on contact, so that everything is wet. I had to stand outside while my stuff occupied the front two seats. Oh, and the spare is a spare, so a smaller tire, and one that looked kinda wierd, so they told me that no way it would get me to New York tomorrow.

The hotel wound up being the NEXT exit off the highway. It was still Girard, but Liberty exit, because the location was also in the Liberty township. As I drove across, I'd noticed about five Liberty townships and about as many Jefferson townships, in different states. Made me wonder if there are any Lincoln townships or counties south of the Mason-Dixon. In other words, their local geographical and political maps are just as much of a Van Gogh painting as ours are in Rockland. I live in New City, that's at the same time Clarkstown. Bardonia is down the road, but its real name is something else. And Clarkstown isn't actually a town. There's an Orangetown here somewhere too. I don't think that's a town either.

Fortunatelly, the hotel people were nice to me. They even gave me a macademia nut cookie, which I think also had white chocolate in it. That thing was so amazingly good. Though, it made me hungry, and with all the waiting for tow trucks and such put me past 10 pm. Apparently, in Ohio, they don't have enough business to extend Room Service past 10. So I turned the heater on, curled up on my king-size bed, and started watching my many episodes of Sailor Stars. I think I'll leave my impressions for another post. Let's just say that sixteen episodes in, I can't wait for more.

In the morning, with my spare, I headed down Belmont Ave (those of you in Chicago, especially Calligraphy Club, should get the joke) towards Firestone. My tires are apparently 16 inch Bridgestone something-something type E. Firestone people scratched their heads, told me they don't know. Goodyear down the street said that they couldn't fix it, not do they carry Bridgestone tires (that's Firestone's job), they cannot give me just one tire because on a four-wheel-drive, you can't mix and match. So they sold me four new tires. Took my old ones. I had to rearrange stuff in my trunk and front seats again. A very cute mechanic named Willie (I give him about 25) worked on my car. I had time to sit in their waiting area and watch more anime.

I actually did manage to get going before noon, though. And I did manage to not get lost, even though I turned onto Garden State Parkway (in Jersey) thinking it was Palisades Parkway and wondered why the exit numbers were in the hundreds. But I was heading North, and on a NJ highway, when you're trying to get to New York, North is the way to go, so I did make it to New York, and I did make it to Palisades and to exit 11 and down Phillips Hill and now I'm home. PHEW.


So far I've had some of my mommy's nummy nummy mushroom soup, ate about half a cabbage with chopsticks, yelled at my brother, pulled about 80% of the stuff out of my car, deposited it on the floor, watched Mona Lisa Smile (it wasn't great... just ok... not really worth watching again any time soon) and wrote this entry. Tadaima.
 
 
 
Maria Korchagin
12 March 2004 @ 01:02 pm
It's official! I'm going to Kyoto next year! I found out yesterday that I've been accepted to the KCJS program. Today, I found out that the three other people are Eric-san, Peter-san and someone named Marianne. I don't know Marianne, but I guess I will soon, huh? :D

What does this mean? This means I won't be in Chicago next year. Instead, I'll be in Kyoto and classes start September 1st! God, I miss September 1st classes.

In Russia, school always started September 1st, even if it was a Saturday (I went to school 5 days a week), and only started on the 2nd if the 1st was a Sunday. It was always an occassion. Parents would take me to school (and in earlier grades bring cameras and such), and everybody would be outside, and the teachers would hold up little cards with the number of the class. 1A... 2A... 3A.. 4A... 5?
I know that when I went to first grade, the sections were A-D (A B V G D, Russian alphabet). Sometimes I stayed after school in a joined A-B afterschool program. By 4th grade, I'm pretty sure V G and D disappeared. By 5th grade, I think it was just us. 50 students. If the other classes existed, I'd never seen them or heard of them. It's kinda strange how they just vanished from sight.
And Masha's birthday is Sept 1st, so after school, I'd always come home, change and head on over to her place. She lived in the next building, 17th floor, apartment 272. She was 1 year ahead of me for the first three years and 2 years ahead for the rest of the time. She skipped 4th grade. I think her entire class skipped 4th grade. I only went up to 5th, so I have no clue how the system actually works.
But one thing to remember is that September 1st was always a great day.

Going to Kyoto also means the following:
1. I won't be getting a job this summer.
2. Annual August trip to Russia may be moved up to mid-July to Mid-August.
3. I'll have lots of time this summer to finish my multiple projects, including, but not limited to, finishing the horse carpet (it needs to be stitched around the back with canvas), finishing the koala carpet (that's only about 1/6th done if that, so the actual carpet itself needs to be done and then stitched around), finishing the cream colored sweater that I started (it has a really pretty pattern), finishing the crosstitch thing for my dad, etc etc etc.
4. I'll be packing a lot of the stuff I won't need in Kyoto (example: my stereo) into my car and driving it to New York on Thursday.
5. I need to keep raising money for the trip, especially now that I've been accepted!
6. I need to figure out whether I'll be leaving from New York or Chicago and where of those two places I'll be living this summer.
7. I need to study Japanese.
There's more.

And of course, now that my work's cut out for me, now that I know what (and how much) I need to do, what's happening?! I'm coming up with ideas of MORE stuff to do. Constantly. Picture studies on notepaper. Friends suggesting me making this and that. I have about five commissions currently in the works, though most of them will only see progress after finals.

Wednesday. I need to survive till Wednesday... around 10 am. Because that's when I'll be done.

Oh, did I mention that the Calligraphy Club wants me to drive them to Belmont tomorrow at 11?! GAH.

Ok, time to go write what Foucault thinks of torture.
 
 
Maria Korchagin
26 February 2004 @ 04:38 pm
So I'm listening to Launchcast while doing my physics homework. Just for kicks, I thought, "hey, let's listen to something that I don't normally listen to!" So I picked one of their "top 10" stations called "Quiet Storm". I liked the name. The description said that it's a collection of "soft songs that won't put you to sleep".

Here's what I've heard so far:

1. Boyz II Men, "Uhh, Ahh" - I've heard this one before. It was on the list of my least favorite songs on the "Best of Boyz II Men Collection" CD I had a few years ago. Basically, imagine four continuous minutes of moaning and euphomisms for sex.

2. Jaheim, "Forever" - don't ask me what this song is about. The guy doesn't have a voice, so the whole song is flat, cliche, and I blocked it out. Guy singing.

3. Tamia, "Questions" - ok song. The first one on the station that I didn't mark as "never play again". Something about how she's doubting because she's afraid he might be cheating. Girl singing.

4. Floetry, "Hello" - another ok song! Two in a row! Something about how he doesn't give a flying rat's ass about her and she's torn between the desire to walk up to him (and say "hello") and the fear he'll turn her down (again?). Why a woman would go through all that trouble for a guy who obviously doesn't deserve her is beyond me. Girl singing

5. Avant, "Don't Take Your Love Away" - basic summary: Hi, I'm shit. I slept around with half the city, but your love is everything to me, please don't take it away! Guy singing.

6. Brandy, "He Is" - ok, finally someone who can actually have a variety of notes. Not sure what it's about though. Girl singing.

7. Blackstreet, "I Can't Get You Out Of My Mind" - Him: Girl, you mean everything to me! Please come back. Her: What about all those chicks that I keep seeing around you? You are soooo cheating on me, you stupid ass. Guy singing mostly.

So, as a bit of statistic... we have 7 songs, relatively evenly divided between guys and girls singing. Except for the first one, all the guys's songs are about how he's been sleeping around and she's pissed and he wants her love back after losing her trust pretty much forever. Meanwhile, the general theme of the girl songs is either "I'm afraid he's gonna leave me!" or "He left me, booohooohooo..."

There's also an overabundance of meaningless phrases like "your love is everything to me" and "your love is so amazing", particularly in the guy songs, basically proving once and for all that at least these particular guys have no imagination.

Please also note that pretty much all of these songs, to an untrained ear, sound exactly the same...

What the hell?! Is the world really like this? Are all men idiots with no morals and no concept of what's realistic, who betray their women left and right, while still spouting crap about how they love them and can't live without their women? Are all women so pathetic that they're either with guys who don't appreciate them and cheat on them... or don't appreciate them and are about to leave them... or don't appreciate them and have left them already... while the women are pining over these completely worthless males?

I refuse to believe it.

Ylla's Art Gallery!
 
 
Maria Korchagin
Anybody remember Dirty Dancing? The original one with Patrick Swayze? I say "original" because there's some "Havana Nights" sequel-looking thing that there's a big poster for in one of our local movie theaters, but which I've never heard of otherwise.

To those who haven't seen it, here's an overview. 80s flick.
"Spending the summer in a holiday camp with her family, Frances ('Baby') falls in love with the camp's dancing teacher. --- Baby is becoming a young woman in the summer where she meets Johnny Castle who teaches dance at a family Summer Camp and in his off hours Dirty Dances with the other dancers. She learns a routine so that one of the women can recover from an abortion and becomes Johnny's lover. As the summer winds down, Each must come to grips with responsibility and love and others' expectations." (Pulled from IMDB.)
Basically, she's a "lady", he's a "tramp", her dad doesn't approve, there's a knocked up chick somewhere in there and a lot of grinding.

To those who have seen it.

Robbie, the guy who knocks up Penny (the real professional dancer chick) is the same guy that's going after Baby's sister. He's from Harvard. He's going after Baby's sister because she's rich. He knocked up Penny because Penny's beautiful.

There's a point in the movie where Penny needs money for the abortion and Baby finds out that it's Robbie's, so she tries to get Robbie to pay at least partially for the abortion. It makes sense, right? Robbie, who sleeps with just about any rich woman at this resort place, and thus is a complete and total trash, turns to Baby and pulls out a book. He waves it in front of her nose and says something like "Hey, some people are worth it... some people are not. Read the book."

The book in his hand is the Fountainhead.

The sarcastic joke of this scene makes more sense if you're actually watching the movie... but the point is, the man who says "Some people aren't worth it", referring to Penny, is actually someone who himself does not deserve to be called a man.

Ylla's Art Gallery!
 
 
Maria Korchagin
19 February 2004 @ 02:05 pm
I've had about seven people all separately ask me why I've been drawing so many ducks lately. Or just in general, why draw ducks.

The answer is simple, but I just thought I'd write it here, once, in detail, as opposed to answer each person separately, but not so well. Quality not quantity, that kind of thing.

The Origin of Ducks.
In 1997 (or sometime around there), Disney came up with this idea that they called Mighty Ducks : The Animated Series.
Basic plotline :
Evil lizard-aliens attack a hockey-playing-duck-alien homeworld in another dimention (there's something about ducks turned into slaves, some resistance group, etc etc). Seven ducks team up and attack a lizard and his three minions, they all fly through an interdimentional limbo, land on Earth (one casualty in the process). On Earth, the Ducks (who basically live to play Hockey) decide, "Hey. We landed in Anaheim. Lets be an NHL team and call ourselves the Mighty Ducks, playing hockey by day, running after the lizards by night!" So that's what they do. They play Hockey (and somehow everybody is ok with 6-7 foot tall ducks being an NHL team) and they fight the evil lizards, who keep trying to come up with a plan to destroy our heroes. Oh, and they have a secret base under the hockey stadium, with robots, big computers, lots of console games, doors that go "whish", and everything else that you might imagine alien ducks would have in their secret compound.
There were a lot of cartoons like this in the nineties and eighties, complete with animorph aliens, secret bases and enslaved homeworlds. Biker Mice From Mars comes to mind. There was another one about Monkeys.

Ducks and Me.
So, much like many many other girls on the internet (why it was mostly girls I have no idea.), I got really into this show (hey, it was fun!). At the same time, I also got into the internet and drawing and writing on the internet.
My drawing skills sucked back then. You won't find any 1997 duck drawings that I did anywhere, but I did offer what I call "50 Free Ink Commissions" at one point to improve my drawing and character design skills. They were all drawn sometime in either 1998 or 1999, but they aren't stamped with a date, so it's impossible to tell when any particular "commission" is from. http://www.geocities.com/annylla/archive/ylla186.jpg (Click at your own risk. This is a horrible picture.)
Most of those 50 were either Ducks, Mice (from BMFM) or Gargoyles, with an occassional human or dragon or something. They were also mostly female. I assure you my writing tallents were even worse. But at least I never wrote a single fanfic called "The Origon of -insertcharacternamehere-" of which there was an amazing number. Somehow only about 1/5th of the fandom could spell the word "Origin".
In any case, I was part of the MD:TAS fandom (much like I was part of the BMFM fandom) for a few months. Then I got bored and left. I drew an occassional duck, but they were sucky. I gave up writing.

The Present Situation.
I have no idea how much of the Duck fandom remained and I have no idea how much of the Mice fandom remained. I have been away from both for too long. I have kept two friends from the Mice fandom, more from the Ducks. Some of the Duck people are actually friends of mine here on LiveJournal.
The point is, it's been long enough that I haven't drawn any ducks or thought about the characters that I doubt I would ever have drawn any ducks at all anymore were I not prompted by a long-time fan of the ducks named Beth.
Beth contacted me (I forget the exact details because it's been going on for too long) about October of 2002, wondering if I could draw some of her Duck characters. It wound up being six characters, all six of whom are now on my Art page (under the "Xento Clan" heading.) After those six followed another commission for a group of them all (which I posted recently), and then five more distinct characters (of which May-Linn is the fist and Argo-in-progress is the second.).
They are all color pencil commissions, which, among other things, helps me improve my skills with the color pencil.

Conclusion.
I draw ducks because that's the form of the characters that I was commissioned to do. I was commissioned to do them because at one point I was a fan of the show. And because of that, because I once was a fan, these duck commissions are somehow closer to my heart, than, say, cheetah-morphs or bunnies would be. Aside from making money and having an opportunity to improve my skills, I actually genuinely enjoy drawing these ducks. This is not mentioning that, since I've been posting duck pictures this month, I've found at least three or four other duck artists and three or four duck artist galleries on the internet that are very fun to talk to, to visit, and who have already been linked to.
 
 
Maria Korchagin
10 February 2004 @ 11:55 pm
no... though some of you may have been hoping *pokes dan* ;)

So what's happened in the past two weeks? I've been swamped. 4th week rolled up, with all its midterms and papers.

Here's the crap I lived through in the past week:
  1. Wednesday EnM midterm.

  2. Thursday Sosc paper due

  3. Thursday flight to New York

  4. Friday SwearIn Ceremony

  5. Saturday Stomach Flu

  6. Sunday Flight back to Chicago

  7. Monday Mechanics midterm... oral

  8. tons of studying for japanese

  9. Tuesday Japanese midterm



Here's the stuff that's coming up! Yay. I'm actually past all the crap.
  1. I'm really close to finishing my Ducks Group commission! Yay! I've been working on that for too long.

  2. I started another commission I'm really enjoying. It's a graphite portrait.

  3. I'm getting together with Kim on Thursday! We have SO much to catch up on!

  4. Elfwood is going to process my ticket... there are like 3500 in the queue... takes 6 days to go through all that. I'm somewhere at 1800 right now, which means that in like three days, I'm actually going to have a decent Elfwood gallery! I got rid of the crappiest crap and had to fix their big html booboo which screwed up the front page of my gallery. Good stuff. It needed to be done a long time ago.

  5. I have like FIFTY picture ideas in my head... once I clear homework and commissions out of the way, I might actually draw something new, yay! ^_^



Look forward to it! I'm going to be finishing a picture in the next two-three days, so there's gonna be more updatin'! YAY :D

Meanwhile, go to Ylla's Art Gallery!
 
 
Current Music: Matchbox Twenty - "Unwell"