AAAAGGGH

Apr. 2nd, 2007 05:52 pm
egypturnash: (cat's cradle)
I just looked at Adobe's presentation of the new features for Illustrator CS3. And half of them seem to be "make it act more like Flash". It's got Flash's eraser, it's got something just like double-clicking a symbol to edit in place, and ALL THE PALETTES have gotten the HIDEOUS CRAP of Flash's palettes smeared all over them.

Those fucking ugly Macromedia palettes came about because ADOBE SUED MACROMEDIA. And now Macromedia's HALF-ASSED, AGGRAvATING, but not copyright-infringing, reimplementation of the idea is GETTING SMEARED ALL OVER ILLUSTRATOR like RETARDED MONKEYS SMEARING SHIT.

The features boil down to:
- does not crash on Intel Macs (I've heard AICS2 is quite unstable on Intel Macs)
- claims of major speed improvements
- finally, some options to make the point handles bigger
- you can have multiple crop rectangles for different output destinations
- some kind of color harmony explorer I'll probably never touch because I managed to grow a color sense years ago
- better cut and paste between Flash and AI
- Flash's lame-ass faux-bitmap eraser tool*
- Macromeda UI design retards shat all over Illustrator's palettes

I think it's time to take a serious goddamn look at alternative tools. Macromedia's hideous redesign of Flash was a large part of what made me absolutely uninterested in seriously looking for work in the animation world - and now Illustrator's getting all Flash-like. Fuck. This like the Blackwing going extinct times a thousand. This could be the fucking K-T boundary for my favorite art tool. If I have to constantly coax a "context-sensivive Control Panel" into giving me the options I want, Illustrator will be just as frustrating as Flash became.

* Perfect for erasing crude holes in your shitty-looking autotrace images!
egypturnash: (Default)
(Oh, there's an ironic song for iTunes to serve up when I started the music.)

Things always come in flurries. Or maybe we only notice them when they start stacking up.

I've been under several layers of stress: running out of hormones, running out of money, high-stress freelance work that's slow on payment, a headache that persisted for a couple of days... and now I have to add finding a new place to live on top of that. Finding that out just about sent me over the edge. I can understand and sympathize with Sammi's decision; I just wasn't in any kind of state for finding it out.

At least it kicked me out of my lethargy for a bit. In between bouts of crying and sobbing yesterday, I ran through some classified listings for the Bay Area and shot off some brief applications. Who knows, maybe one of the jobs will bite. It was a little depressing; so many of them are saying they want "self-starters who thrive in a fast-paced environment", which I feel is code for "we will overwork you and drain all your life".

And I did something I never thought I'd do. I sent off an e-mail to a couple of my friends down in LA, asking if they happen to have Pringle's contact information. I'm going to politely beg him for a job on whatever show he's currently Flash directing. It'll be an odd reversal; I was a Flash director at Spümcø when he started. And I haven't had any contact with him since the whole Nebulous FIlms affair. I don't know how he feels about me at all. I don't even know if rumor's reached him about my transition.

And if worst comes to worst, it looks like my mother will take me in for a while. Moving back to New Orleans is a scary scary thing but... it might be what I need. Quiet and figuring out who I am. I'm just afraid I'd never get back out again. It's not where I want to die.

One thing that I found interesting about my reaction yesterday: I didn't curl up and be quiet and try to bury it all. That's been my reflexive response for my whole life. I screamed and howled and whimpered and wept. And there were a few moments of noticing this, which were kinda nice, even as I was running around in mental circles fearing the absolute worse - being out on the streets, with no money or hope, and turning back to a bitter boy-thing. That's pretty close to dying, for me, or as good as dead, and there was one stupid part of my mind that suggested, well. Skipping the slow decline and going out with a dramatic gesture. I strongly suspect it was the testosterone talking, and I refuse to fucking listen to it. The self-destructive urge can go off and die for all I care, but I'm not going with it.

It's still strange to have emotions instead of locking them all away somewhere inside, to just rot.

And thanks, [livejournal.com profile] tugrik, for being solid and blue and listening to me last night.

home safe

May. 1st, 2005 07:20 am
egypturnash: (Default)
1. hollywood/highland mall gives me The Fear
2. lj phone post: never worked. wouldn't connect or busy busy busy. bah.
3. a good print of "coonskin" on the big screen is awe-inspiring.
4. ralph sorta remembered me.
5. spümcø folks seen: katie, luke, cory, chris mcd, wil. only katie and wil actually talked with me. both pre-existing social weirdness and the trans thing, there. might've gone out for some coffee after but a. broke b. wanted to get back to sf before falling dead.
6. tired.
7. the fear left after water and a little actual food and a nap.
8. gabe was wrong: our animation school did not become a parking garage.
9. hollywood's half-authentic sleaze is being drained by that big ugly concrete mall.
10. sammi and i were faux local color to photograph for the folks back home.
11. deelyboppers deelyboppers deelyboppers deelyboppers deelyboppers deelyboppers deelyboppers deelyboppers deelyboppers deelyboppers deelyboppers deelyboppers deelyboppers .
12. tired.

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