So I Recently Stumbled On The Wikipedia Article For The Grothendieck-Riemann-Roch Theorem, Which Is An

the craziest part is how it ends with the prototype local hero theme

Wisdom of the creative arts and its significance in life

People sometimes look at me thinking that I’m simply ‘obsessed’ over the creative arts such as stories, characters, art, music, poetry, movies, games (yes I consider them an art form but that’s a story for another time) etc.. I understand why it’s easy to believe that I have characters on my wallpaper ‘just because’ I like them. There is nothing wrong with admiring characters simply because they’re cool or enjoy stories because they bring you joy. However, what frustrates me is how often people overlook WHY people like me care about the creative arts, and how easy it is that others undermine the deeper value and insights we gain from these stories, these characters, and the more abstract arts.

Creative art forms are often a microcosm of the world filled with the creator(s)’s own soul(s), coloured with the reflections of humanity - a beautiful, yet sometimes horrifying mosaic of our dreams, our nightmares, and our nature. It expresses what cannot be easily conveyed or rationalised. It is a form of wisdom meant to be felt viscerally and experienced, a unique form of communication that transcends time, diversity and logic. Just like other forms of knowledge and wisdom, this too, requires practice and learning to fully appreciate and grasp. However, unlike other disciplines, the creative arts is perhaps the most versatile due to its nature, with some of the greatest pieces bearing the capability of creating waves amongst people by touching their hearts and by caressing what makes us human.

For those of us who lack guidance and support in life, the creative art forms such as books, art, music and even games can help enlighten and educate us when others can’t. Yes, fiction is fiction, and non-fiction may be filled with biases or flawed views, but it can still be a lighthouse for those who seek light, and an anchor to those who are lost wandering about. There is much to gain, be it empathy, open mindedness, soft knowledge, resilience, discipline etc. from these creative art forms. It can encourage others to learn how to develop critical thinking skills, and to develop their own opinions and perspectives after digesting various truths and angles of the world. Of course, it is important to separate fiction from reality, and understand what can be applied in the real world, and what cannot. But the protection and guidance it brings cannot be undermined. As someone who sought solace in literature, music, art, dance, poetry etc. they have each formed a big part of who I am, and in shaping the values, principles, priorities, choices and ideals I hold in life. I have also gained numerous advice, mindsets and encouragement from them as I tackle the challenges of life. I found comfort in the creator’s message - in their embrace, in their message to me, in their experiences. I also found companionship in their arms, in knowing that I wasn’t alone in thinking certain ways, in feeling certain emotions, in hoping for certain ideals, in fearing various demons. It also inspired me to see how much effort creators put in their works to accurately convey their insightful thoughts, feelings and messages. How could I go through books, listen to music, look at art, without allowing myself the privilege and honour to thoroughly go through these works that are soaked in the blood, sweat and tears of the creators? Call people like us obsessed for spending time to dismantle these works, but it is through effort in understanding these arts, in creating these arts, that we can slowly gain wisdom from them.

There is nothing wrong in enjoying the creative arts as they are, without breaking them down into pieces to digest its value and wisdom, and applying it to your life. I often find myself using the creative arts as an outlet to escape reality and to express myself, but the wisdom of the arts is too often overlooked for the other disciplines. It saddens and frustrates me to see people think of art as a simple thing, that there is nothing to be gained out of art. But tell me, if there really is nothing to be gained in the creative arts - why has it lasted this long? Why can people still shed tears, or laugh in joy, when faced with these beautiful art forms? Why should there be this rigid hierarchy in disciplines where certain knowledge rank higher than others? Isn’t life too complex to be held onto such a strict standard where certain ‘skills’ and ‘knowledge’ are said to be ‘closer to truth’, and ‘closer to wisdom’ than others?

Is it not a form of wisdom itself to express one’s complex emotions with such clarity? To convey a message so powerful that these pieces would get banned? To spark a flame that would move a society? To become a mirror that reflects humanity better than any logic or science can convey? How can we easily overlook the effort, the time, and the skills it took, to create such complex and beautiful pieces that can move us in ways others can’t?

Of course, perhaps like the others, I sound ‘obsessed’, but I believe that as long as these creative art forms don’t interfere with the quality of one’s life, as long as your own unique balance is formed in enjoying the arts and in gaining the right wisdom for your real life, I think that’s the best gift the creative arts can offer someone.

Perhaps there are others that rely too much on the creative arts, those who become addicted, who make it their whole life - but in those cases, what are the chances that it is the creative arts that are their last thread to life? Their last anchor, their last hope, their last salvation amongst the chaos of this world? (Cough *Kim Dokja*) Is it so wrong to hold on to something that will help you take another breath, to be brave enough to live through another day, to give you hope when you see none? (Okay, that’s another tangent and gray area of discussion for another time) Of course, art is not salvation, but perhaps it may be enough to prolong someone’s sanity or life, before they can seek the help they need. Then, there are those few geniuses, those ‘lunatics’ as called by others - perhaps to them, they are willing to pay the price of becoming one with their art, compared to sacrificing their overwhelming love for the arts for a life in reality. But I can’t say much about that, as I’m not them. Then there’s also this notion of ‘balance’ that everyone preaches, to balance time in your dreams, in your clouds, in your stories vs. Reality. But that’s a tough discussion to navigate, as everyone has a different balance that suits their life, temperament, values, priorities and circumstances. 

I’d like to end with this quote from Honkai Star Rail

‘When it comes to gaming, things like race, lineage, allegiance, destiny, beliefs… they’re all insignificant. It’s good to remember that.’

Of course, the reality is more nuanced than that. Our race, lineage, allegiance, beliefs and environment influences us and hence, shapes the things we create. However, the result of these works, be it games, literature, music etc. can affect anyone, regardless of these things that separate us. It is often used to unite us, and enable us to communicate with one another in spite of these differences. It can even transcend time! Why do you think certain books have either been promoted or banned in the past? Why have certain artworks been criticised so heavily or enjoyed? Why have certain music been roughly casted away in shadows or promoted?

Anyways, I’m running out of steam. But coming back to the beginning, when I say that I have characters on my wallpapers, or carry stickers or keychains of them, I carry them with me because they remind me of values and principles I wish to uphold in life, they remind me of my ideals and encourage me by giving me strength. They remind me of our hopes, our despair, and most importantly - our resilience and strength. Yes I like them, but in much deeper ways than most people assume. I carry reminders of how I’d like to live my life, and of wisdom I’ve gained through these stories and arts. I take what I can apply to real life, and I take reality to see what influenced creators to create what they’ve created. 

Perhaps one day I’ll make a post about why I have certain characters on my wallpaper (my phone is on photo shuffle - it makes me happy to see different characters on my wallpaper). I also have certain music I hold dear to me, lyrics I have analysed, plays I love, poetry I enjoy, all for various reasons, and all of which I’ve put in energy to understand and apply in my life.

Anyways, thanks for reading my ramblings. I did not expect to write this much. I was explaining to someone recently about why I have wallpapers on my phone and it led me to yap to them about this topic, and I thought, why not write about it? This, alongside the issues with AI art influenced me to talk about this. I might post another one like this later that’s better written and thoroughly read through, since this was written in one sitting within the span of ~1 hour right before I go to sleep. I’m currently sleep deprived and exhausted from running certain errands and work today. Not sure if this will make sense to everyone, but I hope my sentiments come across, and I truly do wish others feel the same way I do. I cradle the arts with such intensity and warmth every day, and it is an important fuel that sparks the flame within me and gives me light in the form of wisdom and hope.

Edit: Just wanted to add, some people might say characters and art is all about perception and subjective. While that is a good point as there are definitely people who don’t see the value in other art forms or have the same perspective on them as I do + the fact that there are many valid and rational reasons why it is overlooked, but it still is true that the creative art forms we take in and learn influence the way we express ourselves and ideas. It is also all around us in photographs, news articles, blogs, YouTube, posts, TikTok, social media, or opinion articles (language can be loaded and biased), or in the music we listen to the daily, religious music, cultural music, Ads, memes, shows etc. There is perception, and how we ‘view’ the creative arts, and there is also a certain amount of truth that art can impact reality and people no matter how much we ‘value’ or ‘perceive’ it. I just feel like there’s a big gap between how we view art vs. how much it actually impacts us and our reality.

Of course, art is often more of a luxury, and with the state of the world and various circumstances, it is understandable it is overlooked. I’m just a little frustrated at this ‘gap’ in how we perceive art as a society vs. How much it ACTUALLY impacts us and influences us without us knowing. Our own perspective of how important something is and how much we ‘think’ it impacts us doesn’t always correlate to the truth of how significant something is, and how much the creative arts are actually involved in our lives. They influence a lot of things that we don’t perceive. They’re just not in a typical ‘creative’ or ‘abstract’ ‘art form’ that we think they exist in.

Wisdom and truth remains, even if we don’t ‘perceive’ it or ‘value’ it, no matter what form it comes in.

furry cornetto trilogy? furry cornetto trilogy.

shaun’s a ram, ed’s a cow, nicholas is a dog, danny’s a cat, gary’s a lion, king of the jungle ofc, and andy’s a bear 

Around The Galaxy In Eighty Hours

Rey left the Falcon behind, walking up the steps on the Ahch-To island, and she fought the urge to run.

It had taken all this struggle to get here. All this time. The map BB-8 had carried… so many who’d been lost on the way… and now she was here.

She was going to ask Luke Skywalker for help. The legendary Jedi Master, the one who had defeated the Emperor.

As she climbed, though, a niggling little feeling began to gnaw at her.

Where was he, anyway?

She’d been assuming he was somewhere high up, and the Force wasn’t pointing her anywhere else. But she couldn’t see him, and as she reached the very top of the stairs… there was no sign of him.

“Master Skywalker?” she asked, looking around. “Master Luke?”

“Jee-dhai?” one of the locals asked, in a curious voice.

“Huh?” Rey replied, turning. “I… well, I don’t think… I want to be, but I’m not one yet… do you know where Master Skywalker is?”

The hooded alien shrugged, and pointed to one of the rock huts.

Curious, Rey entered.

It was immediately obvious Master Skywalker wasn’t in the hut. There wasn’t room. There was barely room for Rey… but, after a moment, she spotted something odd.

A folded piece of flimsiplast, with a metal-rimmed piece of crystal on it.

Taking the crystal, Rey was surprised to find that it felt… warm, and tingly. It fizzed with an unidentifiable but oddly familiar energy, and she turned it over before opening the flimsiplast.

It held only one sentence.

Use the Force on the crystal.

“...is this going to be a riddle?” Rey asked. “Or a trial of some sort?”

Silence answered her, and she took a deep breath before closing her eyes and focusing.

It was still… difficult, to call on the Force at will, but she could do it.

As she did, the crystal glowed, then filaments of light streamed out of it to form a face.

Master Skywalker’s face. She was sure of it.

“To whoever has found this,” he began. “Firstly, if this is Ben… well done for coming back to the light. And if not… I’m glad there are others besides myself who can use the Force without being tainted by the Dark Side. This crystal has been constructed using the techniques of the ancient Holocrons, which would shatter if they were forced open by the Dark Side.

He paused. “The Caretakers have a few of them, in case they need to replace one. Anyway… if you came here, then either the Force guided you here to Ahch-To or you came following the map. And if you came following the map, you came looking for me.”

Master Skywalker’s expression turned rueful. “So I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m not here. I left. I grew up on a desert planet, and this place just… unsettles me. It gives me the creeps to see all that water. Hurricanes should be illegal, and this planet has some really nasty ones… anyway, I’ve moved somewhere where I don’t need to worry about that. You’ll find me in the Bespin system, on Cloud City…

Rey’s eye twitched, as the blue illusion of Master Skywalker’s face listed off an address.

The crystal fizzed slightly, and she dropped it before she could break it somehow, then crouched down and picked it up again – not accessing it with the Force, this time.

“Right,” she said, her voice tight, and turned to go right back down the slope again.

“You’re back early,” Chewbacca said, concern in his voice.

“Luke’s not here,” Rey replied, hitting the switch to raise the Falcon’s ramp. “Do you know where Bespin is?”

Chewie blinked.

“What?” he asked. “Yes, I know where Bespin is… you’re saying he’s on Bespin?”

“Apparently,” Rey replied. “Though I suppose the map is a map to where he went, not where he is. It’s not like he was updating it…”

Cloud City was an amazing sight, though it had begun to pall slightly for Rey when it took them half an hour to get a landing permit.

Eventually Chewbacca called in a favour from someone called Lobot, and ten minutes after that Rey rang the door chime on the address Luke had given her.

Then she stood outside, waiting.

It was strange to be in a completely built environment. Even the ground under her feet ultimately had nothing beneath it but air… and yet all this was kept in the air by technology.

If Rey hadn’t known quite so much about how solidly built repulsorlift units were, she might have been unsettled.

The door hissed open, and a woman looked out. “Yes?”

“I’m looking for Luke Skywalker?” Rey asked, awkwardly.

“Oh!” the woman said. “You know, he didn’t leave a forwarding address, but he did ask that something be given to anyone who came looking for him… hold on a moment, please.”

The door hissed closed again, and Rey leaned on her staff and groaned.

“I’m guessing we’re leaving?” Chewbacca asked.

“We’re leaving,” Rey confirmed. “For somewhere called the Dagobah system.”

She held up the crystal she’d been given. “If you’ve never heard of it, this should help, at least. It’s got a planetary map, as well… and a long, long complaint about vertigo.”

“He did once fall out the bottom of Cloud City,” Chewbacca volunteered. “That would give anyone vertigo… here, anyway.”

“So after spending a month here, I realized what training with Master Yoda had let me forget until then,” the pseudo-visible Jedi Master explained, as Rey focused – not without some annoyance – on the crystal she’d found in a hut. “Which is that Dagobah is damp. I can’t walk very far without sinking into the swamp, the only food available is moss soup… Master Yoda stayed here for decades, and I can see the argument that a Jedi should be inured to physical discomfort, but I just can’t take it any more. I’m going to Ajan Kloss.”

“Really?” Rey asked. “Really?”

She focused, drawing out her anger, and expelled it with a sigh.

Where on Ajan Kloss was she supposed to be looking, anyway?

The holocron-alike crystal shimmered, showing an Ajan Kloss planetary map, and Rey committed it to memory before closing her hand around the delicate-seeming crystal.

“All right,” she said. “Ajan Kloss, then! And there had better be a Jedi Master there.”

There was not.

“So it’s been the rainy season…” the next crystal declared. “And it’s not as swampy as Dagobah or as rainy as Ahch-To, but it’s a lot warmer and the combination is absolute hell. I thought it was the rainy season when I was here before, but it turns out that it was actually the dry season. This is the rainy season, and it never gets dry. Nothing gets dry. The humidity is absolutely one hundred percent constantly. The floor’s covered with millipedes and our robes are growing fungus on them.”

Rey shuddered involuntarily.

It did sound bad.

They were fortunately in the dry season again, or at least she assumed so since the rain coming down outside was only moderately heavy and the geography hadn’t been entirely covered by cloud.

“What’s worse, the plants here even grow at night,” Luke complained. “So that’s it. I’m done with this place. We’re moving somewhere where there’s no need to worry about plant life at all…”

“Are you sure this is necessary?” Rey asked, two hours later.

“Yes,” Chewbacca replied, giving her another parka, and Rey put it on somewhat awkwardly. “You’re from a desert world. You know how Dagobah was cold and wet?”

“I’m having trouble forgetting,” Rey replied.

“Well, that’s about fifteen degrees,” Chewbacca explained. “Hoth is minus forty. I was cold there.”

Rey stared.

“...do you have any more warm clothes?” she asked.

Eventually, with some difficulty, Rey struggled into the ruins of the Rebellion’s Echo Base.

It was below freezing cold, and intensely annoying, and what was worse was that there wasn’t even a Jedi Master there. Instead, there was another crystal.

It mostly contained Luke complaining about how kriffing freezing it was, and that he’d spent three days here before electing to move to the Forest Moon of Endor.

“What is this?” Rey asked, after extracting herself from the parkas and as the Falcon sped towards the Endor system. “Is it some kind of sick joke?”

“I’ll give this for Endor, it’s warmer than Hoth,” Chewbacca contributed.

The Endor map led to an Ewok village, where they treated Chewbacca like an old friend and sniffed at Rey with great suspicion before Chewbacca managed to make himself understood enough to explain that she was a friend.

Then an Ewok shaman said… something… and Rey found herself involved in some kind of blessing ceremony. It was surprisingly useful, in that it actually involved the Force, but Rey was struggling to concentrate by the second hour… and it wasn’t until the fifth that she actually managed to convey the question she had.

The Ewoks discussed amongst themselves, then finally realized what she meant, and led her to a large treetop hut.

An empty hut, with nothing but some folded flimsiplast on the table, and a crystal on top of it.

Rey wanted to scream, but she didn’t want her hosts to take it the wrong way.

“If you’ve ever met Ewoks, you’ll know they’re brave warriors and good people,” Luke said, as Rey slumped over the Dejarik table on the Falcon.

Both she and Chewbacca were watching Luke’s latest message, and part of Rey hoped that wherever it was going to be was far away enough that she could get some rest.

The rest of her was wondering if they could just give up looking.

“But they’re also… a bit much,” Luke went on. “It took a month or two, but ultimately it got to be too much for us, so we decided to move on. This time we’re going to somewhere where we should be able to be alone, and as a bonus we can be out of the rain as well… it’s a lot like a homecoming, in some ways. We’re going to the Great Temple on Yavin Four.”

Chewbacca muttered something, and went to set the autopilot.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I have actually got bored of green,” Rey said, as they flew low over the jungles of Yavin Four. “I didn’t think it was possible to get bored of something that quickly.”

Chewbacca shrugged.

“Are we picking anything up?” he asked.

“Not on the long range,” Rey replied, sitting down and checking the scanners. “Nothing on passive… that’s just because Luke wants to hide, right?”

She detected a note of desperation in her voice. “It’s not because he’s moved on again, right?”

Chewbacca didn’t say anything, but he did raise an eyebrow at her.

Searching the Great Temple took about an hour, and they didn’t find a Jedi Master.

They did, however, find one of the now all-too-familiar crystals, and Rey stared balefully at it before clasping her hands and letting out her anger.

Again.

Then she snatched it up, wanting to know where they were going to have to go this time.

“You know…” Rey said, as they broke orbit. “I actually almost sympathize with that one.”

“You do?” Chewbacca asked.

“Yeah,” Rey agreed. “Knowing that the temples here were literally built by slaves who were members of the original Sith species… it’s a Sith Temple. I imagine any Jedi would be uncomfortable with that.”

She looked down at the crystal. “I really wish he’d put one of these on Ahch-To, though.”

“No argument there,” Chewie mumbled. “At least Naboo is an easy one…”

“I don’t know much about the place,” Rey said. “Only that it was involved with the Clone Wars, somehow. Or maybe something before the Clone Wars.”

The crystal pointed them to a very fine town house in Theed, which did not have Master Luke in it.

Instead, it had a droid, who beeped and whistled at them.

“We’re looking for Master Skywalker,” Rey said. “Please tell me you know where he went.”

The droid beeped again.

“...Master Amidala?” Rey repeated. “But Master Skywalker said to come here…”

“Same person, it’s just his mother’s surname instead of his father’s,” Chewbacca provided. “Show the droid one of the crystals?”

“It can’t hurt,” Rey conceded. “Is this some kind of ancestral home, then?”

She activated one of the crystals, and the droid whistled gleefully before opening an internal compartment and depositing another crystal in her palm.

“Right,” Rey said, rubbing her forehead with her free hand. “It’s a good thing the Falcon is so fast. We must have done a lap of the galaxy by now.”

“We’ve mostly been going through the middle, but yes,” Chewie agreed. “Where now?”

“That’s always the question,” Rey conceded, focusing.

If there was one thing this was good for, it was learning to master her anger.

“I know, I know, I said we’d be here for good,” Luke apologized. “But I ran into a Palpatine on the street yesterday, and it freaked me out.”

He shook his head. “I know, they’re from a different branch of the family, not everyone called Palpatine is evil… but it really unsettled me and I can’t feel comfortable here any more. Not after I heard from Binks about how Palpatine exploited both my parents… and him.”

The Jedi Master let out a long sigh. “But being somewhere I inherited… it helped, really. It reminded me of the other place that I inherited. We’re going back home. Beggar’s Canyon and the Lars homestead. Ben, if you’re the one hearing this… I’m sorry that we couldn’t give you the childhood that my aunt and uncle gave me.”

The force hologram disappeared, and Rey closed her eyes.

“That didn’t even give us a planet,” she said.

“No problem,” Chewbacca replied. “I know where we’re going. I know where Luke grew up.”

He nodded to the droid. “Thanks for your help.”

The droid whistled, waving a probe cheerfully.

Naboo to Tatooine. Mos Eisley to the Jundland Wastes to the Lars homestead, and from there on to Beggar’s Canyon.

Rey could feel the tension building in the air. Like the signs of a sandstorm, but more positive.

Signs of… something. Maybe signs of hope.

“Found something,” Chewbacca said. “Zeroing in on it now.”

The Falcon banked, slowing, and Rey went to the ramp as it opened. Around her, the light transport hovered on repulsorlifts, and she held on to a stanchion as she leaned out into the hot, dry air.

“I can see something!” she reported, through her comlink. “Bring us down another four metres… all right… I’m getting out here, land as near as you can.”

“Got it,” Chewbacca replied, and Rey slipped out of the door.

She landed with a roll, and shaded her eyes to look closely at what she’d spotted.

There was no mistaking it. It was a hangar bay. Built into the side of Beggar’s Canyon, concealed from above except at exactly the right angle, and big enough to service plenty of ships at once.

There were ships there, in fact. Two transport shuttles, a light and utilitarian variety, and a heavier and heavily modified yacht. But there was space for several more, and Rey frowned as she approached.

This didn’t feel empty in the way the other places had been, a difference that only made sense now she’d felt both sides of it.

It felt… lived in.

Then three young adults – a strange four-legged two-armed half-equine, a more familiar Bothan, and a human – came out of a doorway, all looking at her warily.

“Who are you?” the bothan asked. “Why are you here?”

“I’m looking for Master Luke Skywalker,” Rey explained.

“...oh, well, you just missed him,” the half-equine replied. “He’ll be back-”

“Lusa!” the Bothan protested. “Operational security!”

“Right, right,” the now-identified Lusa said. “Why do you want to speak to him?”

“Because we need him,” Rey said, simply. “To fight the First Order. I… brought his old lightsaber?”

She held it out.

“Whoa,” all three youngsters said, at once.

Then the Falcon came flying back over, still looking for a landing spot, and the human gasped.

“Is that the Millennium Falcon?” he asked. “Did you come here with Han Solo and Chewbacca? Does that mean Ben-”

“No,” Rey replied. “Han’s dead. He… Ben killed him.”

That put a damper on the mood.

“...so, where is Master Luke?” Rey asked, after a few seconds. “Who are you? What are you doing here? I’ve been following his messages for more than a day!”

“Well…” Lusa began. “We’re… trainees?”

“The old word was padawans,” the Bothan supplied. “Master Luke decided that… uh… he said that he remembered what Master Yoda said, and that the only thing that mattered was the spirit. That you had to learn to avoid the Darkness, and that everything else you could learn at your own pace, however fast or slow that was.”

“And all the teachers left about two hours ago in their X-Wings,” the human contributed. “So we’re the ones defending the Academy!”

“I am going to need some time to process this,” Rey said. “...wait, in X-Wings?”

“We had a fleet,” Poe said. “Now we’re down to one ship, and you’ve told us nothing!”

He waved his hands, for emphasis. “Tell us that we have a plan! That there is hope!”

Admiral Holdo stared back.

“There is a plan,” she said. “But I don’t have to tell you what-”

“Admiral!” someone interrupted. “Hyperspace signatures! It looks like… they’re snub fighters, twelve of them!”

Holdo’s shoulders slumped.

“And there it is,” she declared, as the tension left, and she sat back into her seat. “Turn the ship! Prepare for close engagement!”

The radio crackled.

“All wings report in,” came a voice, Luke Skywalker’s voice, and it was so unexpected that Poe staggered back a pace.

“Katarn standing by,” one of the fighters reported.

“Horn, standing by,” another voice added.

The reports came, one by one. Jade, Dracos, Solusar, Durron, Ikrit, Binks, Desann, Korr, Penin. Then they broke for an attack run, and Poe could only stare.

He knew he was a good pilot. One of the best.

But even he had to admit that he couldn’t outdo that squadron.

HAPPY 2024 YALL WE'RE CELEBRATING WITH THE SAPPHICS EVER

2023 was crazy but also i don't remember most of it Imao, I genuinely hope yall had a good year though and made some accomplishments (whether or not they were what you wanted in the beginning of the year) and I hope 2024 is a great year for you all!!!! 🥳💜🎉

The Billy Joel GIF set on Instagram is funny because you've got all your Uptown Girls, your We Didn't Start the Fires, your Allentowns, and your The Longest Times and a couple of the old man's live performances and then for some reason there's a GIF of "Say Goodbye to Hollywood" Live at Sparks 1981. I have no idea who is responsible but they have criminally good music taste and I hope their soup is always warm and their milk always fresh.

My favorite genre of self-portrait is cartoonists being bothered by their characters while trying to draw

Bill Watterson – Calvin and Hobbes (1986)

Hergé – Tintin (1947, Tintin Magazine)

Albert Uderzo – Asterix (the cover of Uderzo l'Irreductible (2018), but originally much older)

Jeff Smith – Bone (1993, Bone Holiday Special)

Walt Kelly – Pogo (1950, Maclean's Magazine)

And a bonus:

Berkeley Breathed – Bloom County

Today on the blog I start a new project: where do numbers come from?

By which I mean, mathematicians deal with lots of weird kinds of numbers. Real numbers, complex numbers, p-adic numbers, quaternions, surreal numbers, and more. And if you try to describe the more abstract types of "numbers" you sound completely incomprehensible.

But these numbers all come from somewhere. So I'm going to take you through a fictional history of numbers. Not the real history of the actual people who developed these concepts, but the way they could have developed them, cleaned up and organized. So in the end you can see how you, too, could have developed all these seemingly strange and abstract concepts.

This week in part 1, we cover the most sensible numbers. We start with the basic ability to count, and invent negative numbers, fractions, square roots, and more.

But that will still leave some important questions open—like, what is π? So we'll have to come back for that in part 2.

Some doodles to mark 5 years of The Owl House, because I may be at work but I've gotta commemorate it somehow

"A Lying Witch and a Warden" premiered 5 years ago, on January 10, 2020. The episode was scripted by Dana Terrace (Tiny Nose):

directed by Stephen Sandoval (Mr. Sandoval):

with story by Dana Terrace, Rachel Vine (Viney), John Bailey Owen (Jerbo), and Zach Marcus (Barcus), and teleplay by Dana Terrace and Rachel Vine:

and storyboarded by Bosook Coburn (Bo), Catherine Harman-Mitchell (Cat), Stephen Sandoval, and Dana Terrace:

Yes, if you hadn't caught on yet, they all have self-inserts in the show.

Thanks for creating this universe!