Dear Con+Alt+Delete Attendees,

Hello fellow con-goers! Thank you so much for attending my panel(s)! As I promised, here’s the lists of all the titles shown.

Anime Goes to the Movies!

OVA: Original Video Awesomeness

J-Horror: Film vs Anime

Art of Emotion

Great Directors of Anime

If you’d like to see me go to another convention, tell them and give them my email or if you’re running it yourself feel free to contact me!
Have a good day!

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Art of Emotion: CAD Edition

Examples used:
Tokyo Strut
The Running Man (from Neo-Tokyo)
The Tale of Princess Kaguya
Akira
Spirited Away
Howl’s Moving Castle
Garden of Words
Cowboy Bebop
The two examples of favorite films of mine-
The Castle of Cagliostro
Wolf Children

And of course I must credit my most used source:
Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud

Questions, comments, or concerns? Email me at jwiderski@gmail.com
Don’t forget to like Mental Multiverse on facebook!
If you’d like me to appear at your favorite convention, let them know by linking them to my site!

In Regards to My Social Life

Nothing good happens after 2:00am. Hence me writing this post. It’s come to my attention after this holiday season that I could take or leave all of my extended relatives. Like seriously. I don’t give a shit about what happens to them and with each passing year they give less shits about me. I have nothing in common with them. Being around them is a chore. I’m totally fine never seeing them again. Except maybe my grandmother because she actually puts in effort, and I’d feel bad about not reciprocating that in even the smallest way.

I don’t know if it’s normal to have this kind of anti-social revelation, but I’ve felt this way off and on for a while. The amount of people I actually give a shit about is shockingly low. And even among those people the sudden loss of any of them would only elicit a couple weeks worth of sadness, followed by a return to normality.
It’s been hard to ignore these feelings in light of drama in my friends’ lives. It used to be that I’d try to actively involve myself, providing support, advice, and help whenever I could. Then I had my own shit happen and I mentally couldn’t do that anymore. Now I’m so out of practice that even a night of trying to figure out drama and talking to people depresses and exhausts me. So I decided to stop. To give up. To let them do their thing. If they wanted me in the first place, they would have asked.

And I guess that comes to the true paradox here. I’m well aware that relationships require energy and effort. I’m terrible at that, but when I do try I get nothing in return. So I’ve decided to not even try, making my relationships even more strained.

But fuck it. I look back at high school and realize that I was never as good of friends with those people as I thought I was. I could unfriend them all today and never care again. I’m often asked who my friends or best friends are and I’m tired of answering, especially the latter, with a person who I’m sure doesn’t think the same of me. The only true best friends I’ve ever had I ended up dating. So fuck it.

I’m being selfish, that’s for sure, but why not? That’s what were all doing here, right? College is for learning about yourself, so I’m going to stay in my corner, alone(ish), and figure that out while everyone else pisses about with their high school drama. If being an asshole brings me less stress and mental strife than normalcy, than I guess I’ll be the asshole.

I Had a Son Once

I had a son once. I had a beautiful wife, a decent job, and a big house in the country. It was a small rural town, the kind you find an hour outside any major Midwest city. I worked at the local Cub Foods. It was just down the street from our home. In the spring I’d walk the 15 minutes so I could enjoy the weather. I was the manager. My employees were decent, most of them teens.

My son had blond hair and blue eyes, taking after his mother. He was just your average five year old boy. He acted up every once and awhile, but for the most part he was a good kid. If my wife was busy, I’d take him to work with me. He’d hang out in the employee lounge, chatting with my staff. They liked him.

I don’t know how or when, but he changed. He became nasty, throwing tantrums and destroying the house for no apparent reason. Well, I suppose there was a reason: Kevin told him he should. He talked to Kevin constantly, treating him as if he were real. Catering to this imaginary child’s needs pushed me to the point where even I almost believed he was real.

He had nightmares. He sleepwalked. We researched and thought we were handling it. Then it got worse. I had brought him to work with me and left him in the lounge, per usual. I returned after a half hour and he had destroyed the room. Tables were flipped, papers were ripped and the TV had a gaping hole in the screen. I didn’t even have time to get angry before he pushed me out of his way and ran into the store. It was chaos. He knocked over displays, pushed people aside, stole their food. He cackled and shouted profanities I was pretty sure he’d never heard before. I finally caught up with him and grabbed him. He fought with a strength I didn’t think a five year old could have. After struggling for a few minutes, he fell asleep. We stayed home the rest of the day.

I’m not stupid, a half decade of horror movies told me what was going on, but this is the real world. That stuff isn’t real here, right? Mental illness was likely at fault, so we took him to a psychiatrist. He was always completely normal around doctors, almost unaware of what he’d done and why he was there. At home it was just rage and a constant insistence to go back to my work. He would never explain why, but keep asking and demanding to go to the store. The medication didn’t help.

My wife got bad bruises when our son tried to beat her up in the middle of the night. We started locking him in his room anytime he got in one of his moods. That made our nights slightly more peaceful. Slightly. There were still the screams. One night it was too quiet, so I checked in on him. He was gone. I knew where he was going.

He had made it halfway to the store before I found him. He was just walking alongside the road, without a care in the world. Until I tried to stop him. I grabbed him and demanded to know what he was doing. He fought back, hard, still insisting he had to go to the store. Always the store. He clawed at me with his tiny fingernails and bit with a mouth that still had baby teeth in it. The shadows cast by the moonlight made his eyes look pure black. Every blow hurt, not just physically but emotionally. It had been weeks and we couldn’t keep going like this. He wouldn’t stop. What happened to him? Why was this happening? And he wouldn’t stop going on and on about the stupid fucking store.

Then it happened.

Something snapped inside me. I hit him. Hard. I pinned him to the ground and hit him again.

I had to do this. What other choice did I have? I couldn’t stop, because he wouldn’t stop.

I grabbed a rock. I brought it down on his head. It dented like an egg cracked against a bowl.

I hit him again.

I couldn’t stop.

Again.

Again.

His face was gone.

The son I had raised for five years. My pride, joy, life, and future.

Just a puddle of blood and gore.

I couldn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop.

Can’t stop.

 

Then I woke up.

And I cried for what felt like hours.

So no, I’m never going to have a son. Because I already had one, who I loved so much. It doesn’t matter that he wasn’t real, because, for what felt like a lifetime, he was real to me and my feelings, up until the last moment, were genuine.

And I killed him.

I’m so sorry.

Learn some manners

To the person sitting in the room next to me: Learn some fucking manners. It is monumentally fucking rude to come home without letting your roommates know. I don’t care if it’s a last minute thing, you fucking tell them. So that she and her boyfriend aren’t woken up at 10am, ruining the much needed sleep they should be getting since they were up at 4am. So that the privacy of her own home that she temporarily had isn’t taken away from her suddenly and cruelly by your noisy fucking ass.
Fuck you.
Learn to actually think of others. Get your head out of your fucking ass and learn some fucking manners.
Of course angrily blogging about it isn’t courteous, but fuck it.

I’ve decided…

I really don’t like the person I am when I’m in groups of people, especially my friends.
My mind immediately goes on auto-pilot and I rarely stop to think through what I’m saying.
I’m rude, crude, and a couple of funny jokes doesn’t make being a general asshole.
I get that that’s like my thing, but I don’t want to be that guy.
I get home whenever I hang out with my friends and I sit and regret half the things I said. I shouldn’t have to do that.
So to any of you that get around to reading this, please forgive me and if we are hanging out just remind me occasionally to get off of auto-pilot. I want to be a better person, particularly to those who I value more then anyone else in this idiotic world.

Agh Moody and Weird again

I hate days like these
It’s like getting drunk
We’ll I think it is. Fuck if I know.
All inhibition is zwoop gone!
Soooooo venting time!
You’re a whiny bitch! Succchhhh a whiny little bitchhhhhh
You lot are awesome, keep up the good work despite my feeling oddly distant from you!
You are going to be learning some interesting lessons soon (We’ll see how that goes)
School is boring, work is more so
You are suspiciously great. Remind me to monitor the situation closely to prevent future catastrophes.
Everyone is a bunch of idiots except a handful of people. I sure wish I knew them.
Adults are not adults because of their wisdom or maturity, rather just their age.
Hunter is a bitch (oooohhhh got fucking name specific that time!)
Oh and whatever you do don’t get a tumblr! That’d be too much of a time suck. You don’t have time for that. Except when you’re being tired and moody. Also I’ve given up the search. They deserve their privacy or at least she does. I don’t wanna be an asshole about this.
I’m not meant for normality. Girls shouldn’t ask me for their number. That’s not something that happens to me. Not me. No. Stop universe.
I hate when people complain about being lonely. That being said:
I make a shitty boyfriend. Gotta keep telling myself that.

Decisions…

I’m sick of making decisions.
Every goddamn day I have to make goddamn decisions because nobody else fucking will! I made and make decisions for myself, for my family, in my old relationship, for my coworkers, and especially for my friends. And I’m fucking sick of it.

The only reason I keep making decisions for everyone else is because I’m too impatient. Too unwilling to waste what little time we have on this planet humming and hawwing about what bloody pizza to get! And I’m just agressive and confident enough to make them because if you don’t fucking like it then you should have said something!

I get why people don’t like making decisions because I feel the same way myself. With every decision you make comes responsibility. Responsibility for the consequences and the effects on people. So it’s nice to take a break, turn off your brain and let other steer the ship. Every time I make a decision I risk ruining the day for everyone else, but I’ll take it head on not because I want to, but because nobody else will. And while I understand that mentality that doesn’t mean it doesn’t piss me off EVERY GODDAMN DAY!!!

I take responsibility for every aspect of my life every day! What do you do!? Sit on your ass all day playing video games, smoking pot, or browsing the web!? FUCK YOU! If you can’t manage to take some fucking responsibility for your actual life then I’d think you’d be at least able to manage picking what you fucking want on your pizza or what to put in the script, but NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Think through your actions, think through the consequences and fucking gain the goddamn strength to stand up more than once a fucking month! At least do it so I can finally get some goddamn rest.

I’m tired.

I’m so tired.

Loneliness

A lesson I need to re-teach myself every once in a while is this:
There’s no real point in feeling lonely all the time. There’s no need to want another so badly that you spend nights crying or being moody. All that does is make you feel worse than you should have to.
After all you’ll meet that person someday. I’m not being optimistic or a romantic, I’m just being realistic. Statistically you’ll meet someone some day.
So why waste your time wallowing in misery? All you need is patience and you shall be rewarded!
That being said, loneliness does provide one service: contrast.
Without hunger, food can’t be truly appreciated. Without cold, warmth can’t be truly appreciated. Without loneliness, Love can’t be truly appreciated.
So don’t feel bad for being lonely, as all your doing is making that love of yours even better when it does come. Find a balance though, or you might get so wrapped up in loneliness you won’t be able to appreciate anything, let alone love.

Thanks to a certain show for re-teaching me that.