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What do the Spanish Inquisition, Phantom Thieves, and underdogs all have in common? You'll never see them cominnnnnnnnnnnn!
Hello - how's January been? A weed-whacker to your arm hair, or more of a gentle beating with a microwave door? Perhaps even a fair few of you would describe it as a boiled crab claw to the nipple? It's always better than a horse shoe to that long, straight side of your foot on a cold day. Those are the worst according to Awkward Farmer Injuries Monthly.
What the hell are we here to talk about again? That's right - this is the time of year where I toss together a massive to-do list like a 7-ton boulder around my neck and crawl up-hill after a gently-used $100 bill. Well, this year, since I hit my very modest goals in life by time I was 22, Santa Clause, Jesus, and Vishnu all pooled their money together to get me something big. Potentially, life-changing in size - but, as with everything to do with that jolly bastard, there's a catch. I have to work for it...
Behold, the great to-do to be to-done. I've actually held back a bit with this one because I've never had a year where I've expected as much out of my work as I do this one. This is what I can do, not necessarily as much as I expect to be done - shut up, it makes sense!
So very many projects are ripe, plump fruits on the branch for me to toss into a nearby pitching machine. The nearest apple on the great graph of life is definitely Taco Terror, which is shaping up into something funny, fun, and phun. The release date is coming up very soon, and I want very, very much to be done with the lessons its taught me. After that, writing, Youtube, and two other game concepts are in my direct line of fire. By the end of this year, I could be looking at a three (quality) video game release calendar year, a re-awoken-from-a-coma YouTube channel with fun, fresh content on there, a completely rad new nature idea, several unaddressed new vices, and a healthy gambling debt. That just...sounds nice, doesn't it?
The long and curlies of it all is that last year was a solid march from Jan to Smarch, and I need to start reaching some sort of destination. Not because of money or the cops chasing me (because they won't find me), but because my bitter old man meter is in need of some heavy petting. Yes, I've had some writing tossed out to great success, but it's not enough - not when it's not all I'm about anymore. Tis time to cross the bridge or find another way around.
For some things, that is, not everything. I'm slowly transmogrifying into an actual slice of cheese pizza though, so I know the great pizza timer will call me to the Bake-ening soon thereafter. Then, I will be the greatest college dropout to ever leave Pizza-ville. Dreams do come true!
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