My Academic Career

My day, the short version:

The very long version: (Note: I was going to draw pictures to seperate paragraphs but I am to tired so I'm going to use random pictures I found on the internet today)

I’ve never had a normal semester where everything goes exactly as it should. I don’t believe that actually happens. However it seems that recently I accidentally opened the setting on the universe and switched the difficulty level to extreme and can’t find it again to turn it back down.

Around a year and a half ago, during the summer I was staying at my parents for the summer as I started moving out of the dorms and into my apartment. During this time I began to have a series of panic attacks that only ever hit right before I would go to bed. This became a problem. So I went to the doctor and he put me on some daily anti-depressants. Soon the attacks went away and all was well. Till I moved into my apartment and started school again.



Now I once this happened unbeknownst to me I stopped having panic attacks and my brain chemistry returned to normal. HOWEVER if that happens and you are no longer suffering from anxiety and depression but you keep taking the medication like you are told to, it causes PROBLEMS. Brain refused to think properly, weeks of extended lethargy, and profound lack of focus of any kind. Made doing homework and going to class ummm… difficult. Especially as I had just moved a mile and a half away from campus with out a car.



On top of that it took nearly half the semester for my financial aid to finally go through and for half the semester I wasn’t even certain I would last till the end of the semester. A little after midterm I realized what was happening and I stopped taking the medication and tried to fix as much as I could but it was already too late and the damage was already done.



So I did BAD that semester. Like, REALLY REALLY, bad. Like, 0.00 gpa, bad. Not my proudest moment. Kinda kicks my pride in its massive nuts to even admit to the badness and stupidity on my part. But there it is.



So after that semester I got put on financial probation, basically the withhold the money the state is giving to you. Be that grants and scholarships or straight up loans from a bank.



That semester I did what I could and tried to pull my life back up out of the shit I found it in once I got of the meds. I did pretty well, but not necessarily stellar. I got all 15 hours I attempted and considering 1 of the classes was a 700 level class generally given to grad students I was feeling pretty alright.



After about a month of looking for summer work and stuff my parents got a letter informing them that I was academically dismissed from my school. WATTA TWIST! AMIRITE?



Apparently I had not done good enough and that I had to take a semester off and apply for reinstatement in the spring.



They also heavily suggested I apply to the local community college for a semester. So I did that. Which worked out ok, got a lot of general education requirements out of the way for pretty cheap. Allowed me to take some loan money and do some travlin to hang out with some(an) awesome people. Since all that shit was hella easy I did GREAT. Still not deans list, but still pretty great.



So I started on the arduous task of getting reinstated.



In order to do this, you need to fill out and petition of reinstatement. Which requires you to write what the deal is, why you want to come back, and your grades from schools you’ve attended since AND have your old university advisor to write a letter saying whether or not they thought you should be allowed back in or not. So I had to wait till after my grades were posted (after winter break started). And even though I turned my half in on the 3rd of the new year, literally the first day the offices opened, and event though I gave my adviser her half of the application before the winter break, I was just reinstated YESTERDAY.



GUESS WHAT! YESTERDAY WAS THE DAY TUITION WAS DUE! YAAAAAAY!
Now guess who found out today?



Yeeeeaaah. After I ran around all day today getting signatures from every professor I taking this semester, and getting enrolled and stuff getting taken care of I found out that if I didn’t get nearly $700 by today or $725 by next Wednesday and then $600 by friday I would be dropped and all this would have been for naught.



So off I skipped to the happiest place on earth, known as the financial aid department!



Turns out I’m still on financial aid suspension! And the committee that reviews the application for repealing that wont meet again till may 5th! Sooooooooooooooooo………. Yeeeeaaaaah…. I basically have to find someway to come up with $725 by next Wednesday and $1500 more in installments starting next Friday or get a non-student loan and hope they approve my appeals application so I can pay the loan off in May. So that’s where I’m at the moment. But that being said I am being optimistic.



Best case I get the non-student loan and get it paid off immediately and improve my credit score like a boss and kick ass this semester. Worse case scenario I take a semester off and get a real person job till I can get back in the Fall. Which isn’t the end of the world and would probably let me do even more travel and buy more art supplies.



But that’s the deal. I’ve got at least 4 more years of this bullshit. T___T

Weekend At The Movies

I am so tired.

Commissions Part 2

“Be afraid. Be TOO afraid”

The last of my commissions have been at last sent out which means I’m back and ready for more.

How this works:

You donate using the buttons listed below the deal you want then email me at poorklaus@gmail.com and tell me what you want me to be in your painting. I will then work feverously for days on end till my soul ascends to the seventh layer of the holy nega realm and you painting is completed.

So here’s the menu and as usual shipping and handling is included in the listed price unless you live out side the US in which case there is $5 extra shipping charge.

11X14 Paintings For $25

International

11X7 Paintings for $15

International

Postcard Size Paintings for $5

International

Any Sized Digital Paintings/Drawings for $5

Also for sale are

Vibrancy for $25

National

International

The Creative Process for $20

International

If you don’t see exactly what you want here email me at poorklaus@gmail.com and we can see if we can work something out!

LURVE,
Klaus.

A Summer of MS PAINT

Its very boring at my parents house. Most of my time is spent blankly staring at my computer screen while listing to podcasts with people far more interesting than me. One day however to maintain my sanity and to keep from making dolls in the shape of my favorite podcasters I decided to start doodling in Paint. The following is the terrifying results of a summer of idleness and frustration.

Temptation

I write this now to tell of a dark horror and sin that no man should have to bear on his own. Last night I committed a deed so black and dreadful I am not certain I will have the will to finish the narrative with out succumbing to the encroaching madness that is even know scratching at the gateway of my anxious mind.

Solitude is an unholy thing to young men. And during the deep hour of midnight the consumed mind deforms needs until they become twisted desires. Where even the supple brim of a dirty hat can send a normally moral man into decadent fantasias rife with immoral acts with erotic millinery.

It was in this haunting condition I found myself nearly thirteen hours before the present. Knowing that I would soon be fraught with the fever that takes all men, I sent to task hiding any and all tantalizing objects from my view and putting out all the lights. But in the devilish moonlight the clock struck 12 and my desperate gaze fell upon the fantastic globes that set at the end of my bed.

Atop the ridged wooden posts that surrounded my bed were large wooden sphere that in my addled mind I took to be the incandescent globes of delight that are the female bosom. I walked towards them sluggishly as if in a drunken stupor. I tried to resist but the foul hour was what controlled my body then. No amount of rational thought would of saved my virtue then.

The illusion was too complete and at half past midnight all ration thought left my body as it landed upon the moonlit wooden orb

What occurs next makes me wish to abandon this shameful memoir, for truly this is the story of my life, and end it all on the hard streets below. But I shall persevere for the sake that some day the description of which will lead to a possible cure for my impending dementia.

Once the evil had left my body I saw the bed post begin to shiver. Fear began to seep into my mind as the once rigid wooden posts began to wilt and shape shift into something more terrifying than I could imagine. Faces of the past and future screamed from the spheres condemning the earth to its irrelevant fate and destruction. The shining wood began to darken and grow in size and without warning burst through the wall that my bed had rest against. Leaving a great hole that let the cold night air rush into my morose room. Chilling to me the bone as I stood there staring in shock in only my socks.

I can still feel the cold air brushing against me as I write this. Even though I had patched up the hole this morning since I have not slept since. The reality and the terror of what I saw last night is still sinking in and I fear that once it finally does my mind will be completely lost. I can only hope this writing will serve to explain why I have gone mad and perhaps my bizarre lack of headwear.

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Prompt by Tekkyh: " , when the night was still, and his company sparse, it occurred to him that his bed posts looked remarkably like breasts."

Sticky Fingers

Max was walking home from work and so distracted by the prize he was clutching in his hands, he didn’t notice the 3 foot tall Albanian man walking towards him.

The dwarf, falling to the ground to get out of the way, shouted out to Max.

“What fuck’s your problem?”

Max’s problem was “Borrowing things”. From little things, like the little pens at banks, to bigger things, like the expensive string of round white polished stones that he was now carefully turning over in his hands. He thought the stones must have been made of marble or some sort of other high-end stone. He wondered how much they would catch at a pawn shop but quickly dismissed the idea.

Max rarely thought about the value of the things he took. It was about the little bolt of ecstasy that ran through his whole body when ever he would surreptitiously pocketed something. But, in the end Max would always give back what he stole. The thrill, guilt, and the shame of confession, were all apart of a neurotic ritual that he had to do be satisfied. And he had been doing it for years.

Max had been trying to quit. He worked as an electrician, and whenever he got a urge he’d just touch an exposed wire. The resulting heart pounding pain would get him what he need for the day to day. But, today, while he was working on a client’s walk-in-closet light fixtures, he had found the broken, yet beautiful, necklace stuffed into a small red silk box. Max couldn’t resist. He finished with his work and left with a smile a mile wide.

**************

The following week Max became obsessed. After days of lying in bed, he began to deeply inhale the sweet and sterile aroma that surrounded the stone beads. Soon he also began to dream of the bittersweet woman who must have worn the item.

Beauty and grace as she danced while an untouched porcine neck was garnished in luxury. A fiery society girl whose constant application of perfume gave the stones a glamorous oily finish. A wild vixen that left only the broken necklace behind when she broke his heart.

For days Max lived, breathed, and even tasted his most sacred treasure. Dreams of dreams built a strange paradise where he could escape at the end of the day to bathe in the object and its mystery owners serene beauty. But the cycle had to be completed. His pent up guilt and desire would not let him cling to his wild fantasies for any longer.

Max drove his car up the long winding driveway to the rich and prolific house on a the hill. Knocked on the intricately carved and polished wooden doors and offered up to the owner, a small balding man with suspicious eyes, his lost necklace. With a rubicund face, Max apologized for stealing, and asked for forgiveness.

The suspicious man’s eyes widened and through a flustered fit of stammering choked out,

“W-w-what could you… have p-p-possibly… What! Reason would you… “ Then in a whisper, “ would you want my a-a-anal beads for?”

Max, the romantic idiot, spent the next two days in the shower. Shaking.
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The original prompt written by ME was: "The problem with kleptomania is that by rule of averages you WILL steal something that has been in a butt"