I'm really a terrible adult. I hate pretty much everything about it. Bills, jobs, responsibility. Oh, I know what you're going to say...."who doesn't?" A whole lot of people, that's who.

Or maybe that's just the state of being human. I think we are always on the outside looking in. The only real perspective we have on anything is our own. I'd be lying if I told you that mine was all that special or even that broad. As an...ahem....artist, my over inflated sense of self tends to think that I see things others don't. Not true. I probably see things less because I spend way too much time in my own head. And man...what a shit hole that place can be.

I'm rambling. As usual. Let's put this back on track...

So, the whole adult thing. As a kid, I figured by 36 I would have my shit together. A career. A family. A name for myself. Checking the scorecard, I see that I have one of those things. And it's the best one. My family. The other two? Not so much.

I think as a creative person...it's had to get settled in a "career." You only ever feel like you are doing what you have to do to get by. Which is fine. Bills have to be paid. Kids have to be fed. But whatever satisfaction that doctors, or lawyers, or even fry cooks get out of what they do...well...it eludes me.

I really thought at this point I'd have it figured out. It seems that "personal life Jim" was given to much control over "Successful career oriented Jim." The two always ended up tripping over the other. Getting the chocolate in the peanut butter. And the peanut butter was chunky and past expiration. Always sacrificing the long term for the now. Always. To really bad results.

Hey...I get it. I have a house, two cars, nice things. I'm fat. I'm well cared for. I'm not some person starving on the street. But do you ever get the feeling you're like, one bad choice away from that?

Hmmm.

So, the new year is almost upon us. Every year I tell myself this one will be better. This will be the one where I stop being an asshole and do what I'm supposed to do.

So...here I go...telling myself again.

Hey, it's not all angst and self sabotage here, good friends. I have an amazing wife, who puts up with so much. I have a kid that is just unbelievable as both a person and a daughter. I have an extended family that has never let me down. Ever.
And then there's me. The only person in my life that I really don't care for. That's not me playing violins or being cute. That...is truth.

And how do you fix that? How do you learn to love yourself? I once had a teacher that I worked with through the summer. What you would consider a successful guy. Had the career, the wife, good, smart kids. You know what he told me? He said... "Just take care of yourself. First. No one else will. No one." And this was coming from a guy who was a pillar of the community. Someone who would be considered a leader. And the funny thing was? He meant it. You could tell he was trying to pass something off to me. Something he really believed.

Good advice kids. And if there's one thing I can tell about my own life...it's that I never took that advice. And I've learned there's a difference between taking care of yourself and being selfish.
I spend a lot of time being the latter. And not doing the other. And sometimes we are selfish when we think we are just being good to other people. It's still self SERVING if you do it just to make sure everyone is happy. You don't want everyone to be happy...you want everyone to not piss in your cereal. You want everyone happy so your day goes well. That's not a judgement. It's just the way it is. I don't think that makes us bad. It just makes us human.

If I die today, I don't want to be remembered for who I am now. Not by my family. Not by myself. Hopefully...THIS YEAR...

Happy Holidays.

Owen.

I'm not sure when he was born exactly. But Owen came into our lives about a year and a half ago. He was still a baby.

A farm kitten, to be precise. I had always thought that we were doing him a favor by bringing him home. And, we were. Saving him from coyotes or whatever...at least that was the thought at the time.

We had enough animals. But, Lisa was down, and I thought maybe a baby kitty would help. And he did.

He was one of those cats. You know what I mean. Always into stuff, fighting with the other cats. Brodie, our "dad" of the group took to him as his own though. And he really loved the dogs. Especially Henry, our giant lab mix. The other cats though? No. Lexi, one of our females just never got used to him. Chase, my Jack Russell, had taken to breaking up the fights after awhile. Keeping the peace.

And then there was the spraying. Male cats do it as a territorial thing. If you get them fixed young, it tends to stop it. In most cats. Not all. Owen was one of the few that it didn't. I'm sure it had to do with stress, as the other cats kept him on his toes. But it wasn't fun. Those of you that have dealt with such things know how bad it is. But, we survived. There had been talk of getting rid of him...but that's just not in our nature. I truly believe that if you take an animal into your home, it's now YOUR responsibility. And he was after all, family.

I know what you're thinking. What a terrible cat to keep. Well, I can see that. But what I also saw was this...

Haley LOVED him. She's had many animals in her life, but she never took to any of them like she did him. She protected him. Took extra care of him. He was a sweet soul. Often cuddling with us or the dogs at night. Lying in your armpit and purring himself to sleep. He would give you kisses too...something no other cat we have would do. He was just different. Sweeter. Nicer. Never afraid to be held.

We have a big fenced in area behind our house. The dogs go out there often. Lately, Owen had been trying to sneak out with them. He always stayed in the fence...well, almost always. He finally found a way over and a way back. To be honest, I thought being out might be good for him. It would give him some freedom and space away from the other cats. A break from the stress and the fights. He'd always slowly wander back in. It was no big deal.

A few days ago he was throwing up. Cats puke. A bunch. Hairballs...upset stomach...it's just how they are. I really didn't think anything of it. He had been outside so much that I figured it was just grass or something he had eaten. Yesterday, he ran out with the dogs, as eager as ever. No issues. He had spent the night next to Lisa and I. He seemed ok.

That afternoon, everyone was home from work and school. It was rainy. I told Haley she should probably find him and bring him in, because of the rain. My afternoon was shattered by Haley's cries. Our sweet, baby kitty was in the shed. He was already gone.

We will never know what happened to Owen. Odds are, he got into something he shouldn't have. In my internet searching, I have found that there are a million things that are toxic to cats. Even moldy compost. Toads. Chocolate. And who knows what cars in the neighborhood were leaking what. It just is what it is. And he's gone. It would be easy to feel guilty. Just to think we should have just kept him in. And that's probably true. But who knew? Anyone of them could bolt out the front door tomorrow...and it's a busy street out there.

The animal lover in me will always battle with what seems to be my pragmatic, common sense controlled side. There is so much risk involved with letting these little souls into your life. Sickness, disease, cars, toxins, poisons...even giving birth. All of these things are dangerous to them. But the reward is great. And the smiles and peace they give me is worth the effort.

We love you Owen. Haley will miss you always. Your beautiful yellow eyes. Your silly broken tip tail. I'm sorry we couldn't protect you from whatever it was that took your life. But I will forever be grateful for the joy and the memories you brought us. It was a short year and a half. But you will never be forgotten.

Rest well little man...until we meet again.

Building Towards...Something.

So...I've been magnum opusing. That's a phrase I just made up. You're welcome. Anyway, I have been drawing... a lot. The kind of drawing where I'm doing layouts and then completing whole pages only to hate them and start over. It's a good feeling. Like excercise without the sweat.

Those of you who are creative types know that a long day of doing what you do can be just as exhausting. I'm no Dali, but I love to create, and am getting better at what I do. I wish at 36 I could say I'm "there" but I'm not. Too much of my life spent worrying about other shit and not spending quality time with my own imagination.

What I was wanting to get to in this blog, in particular, was where this all leads.

Allow me to elaborate. With a timeline...of sorts.

1989...Jim Sprandel creates Super Geek. Based on his love of super heroes and the work of Marc Hansen. Hence why SG's "city" is named Hansenville. SG is basically used as a time killer in study hall and boring classes. Later, he will become the face of many school newspaper covers and lunch menus.

1993...Jim graduates Tri-Point High School...not much is done for well...a few years. I was constantly drawing, that never stopped. But it was more about sketchbooks and doodles. I was too caught up in my dead end social and love lives to really spend time with it. So...it suffered. For almost a decade. Almost.

1995..ish...On a blind date with my brother, I go to an outdoor radio fest to see HUM. My brother Tony has not shut up about the band. The date goes HORRIBLE...but I hear "Why I Like The Robins" by Hum for the first time. It LITERALLY changes my life. People say that a lot. But in this case...it's truth. I set mesmerized throught the set. This is around the time the band's album "You'd Prefer An Astronaut" is released.

1997...By this time, I've seen the band more times then I can recall. It was numerous. They are playing newer songs that would make it onto "Downward is Heavenward" their "final" album.

This album just adds to the pile. The songs spark whole stories in my head. I'll explain later...

2000...Hum "officially" disbands.

2002...Having no job, I start my first ACTUAL Super Geek comic. Due to expaning roster of characters...and some other stuff...it is retitled "G." Really original huh? Any who...the book is finished. It's available in a newer, remastered version, on my facebook page.

2003...I take it to San Diego Comicon for a few days. Get some good feedback, meet some animation people...and then...NOTHING. I get a rejection letter...and go back to the same sketchbook doodle bullshit I had been doing before. Smart move.

2011...I start looking at the 2002 book and realize the coloring job and writing were weak sauce, go back, start loving the whole process all over. Decide it's time to start the second issue. 8 years later. In the meantime...Hum has done a few reunion shows here and there...the latest being a week or so ago.

Today...well, I'm about 6 pages in and just eating it up. I'm sure my wife isn't really loving being ignored for hours at a time...but it's for a good cause.

See, somewhere...Hum got their chocolate in my peanut butter. I started building this whole Super Geek epic around their songs and albums. It's all in my head. It's starting to come out. The issue I am working on now leads directly to that. I couldn't just jump in without some lead in...so that's what I'm doing now.

It'll take months. Maybe years to do what I want to do with it. But in the end...it's going to be nothing but a love letter. To comics...to music...to the people in my life. Something I can leave behind. Even if it's just for Haley to show her kids years from now.

I'm listening to Hum now. "Firehead" to be exact...and all I can see is images in my head. A story waiting to be told. My story. I have no choice but to tell it.

PITCH TIME! The Greatest American Hero. Believe it or not...It's just Reality TV.

See the picture above? If you don't recognize the characters, certainly, you recognize the suit. Or...the basis for the suit. For those of you that don't know, GAH was a show about a teacher named Ralph Hinkley who was given a suit by some aliens and told to go do good stuff. He had a sidekick who just happened to be a FBI agent named Bill Maxwell...and a hot girlfriend. Named Pam. Well, the show ran for like 3 years in the 80's and then was relegated to TV limbo.

I watched this show religiously with my mom. LOVED IT. To this day, I can't say the word "scenario" without thinking of the show. Look it up on Wiki. Get educated. It's classic silly TV at it's very best. Now, I'll admit I'm not a GAH nerd. I don't know all the intricacies of the show. Or the mythology. But what I do know I turned into a really great "Where Are They Now?" concept.

Here's the thing. The suit protects Ralph. It also gives him the ability to fly. About 6 years into having the suit...he realizes something horrible. He's not aging. At all. The suit's effect on gravity has made him literally freeze in time whenever it's on. And when is it on? All the time. Under his clothes. His marriage to Pam dissolves quickly. He loves her with all of his heart. He wants to be with her. But as lines and gray hair catch up with her...he's still 29. Or whatever. Worse yet, Bill passes from natural causes. (The actor that played Bill, Robert Culp, also passed not long ago.) Ralph has lost his only two friends and confidants. He becomes a recluse. Never leaving his apartment. Unless it's to do something heroic and even that is becoming few and far between.

Anyway...the fact that he's not doing anything of much importance comes to the attention of the aliens that gave him his suit. They are pissed. But here's the grabber! Wait for it...Are they pissed because he's squandered away this oppurtunity to do good and save people? No...the are mad because the RATINGS ARE IN THE TOILET!!!

Didn't see that coming did you?

See, this is the thing. This whole time, Ralph has thought he was a hero. Doing good, helping people. He has even paid the price to do what he sees as his duty. Turns out the whole time he was only the star of an intergalactic reality show. Enter the Programmers.

The aliens were never really thinking it would get this far. When tried on other worlds, the contestants...or stars or whatever, had died waaaaay early in the process. That was the schtick. Give them the suit. Make it so they "lose" the instruction book...hilarity ensues. Now, with Ralph stuck doing nothing, with no real action going on between the heroics...well, no one is watching. All the viewers who had tuned in to watch him die have tuned out. The aliens want two things...they want a "series finale" and they want the suit back. Now.

This of course brings in intergalactic bounty hunters, villians, and even more. And perhaps a rouge programmer who only wants to help Ralph beat the odds. What would get better ratings then redemption and triumph? Exactly.

Ralph gets an updated suit. Remains a teacher, but this time at a middle school full of junior high age kids. New FBI agent, who Bill trusted with the info upon his death. Pam could still be there as a supporter and someone on his side. You get the idea.

So, there you go NBC. It combines all the hot stuff right now. Super Heroes. Reality TV. Intergalactic papparrazzi. Good stuff. Maybe one day I'll right the story out. But sometimes ideas are just that.

Frankly my dear Scarlet...

I probably got that quote wrong by the way. The gist of it? I don't give a damn.
It's funny that at 35 I still struggle everyday to find a sense of direction. I was told
once that I am probably clinically depressed...but who isn't? Seriously...if I had a
dollar for every melancholy person I know? At least a large pizza with three toppings
and a 2 liter. At least.

My wife thinks we need a change in scenery. I tend to agree. However...where? And to
what end? There's that stupid old saying that goes "Wherever you're at...there you are."
Oh, how true that rings. I don't think finding a new town will actually help me to find a new
Jim. That suddenly with a new shitty job and new friends (um...yeah) that I will suddenly be
fulfilled in ways I wasn't before. I'm not sure that's even a worthy goal. Fulfillment. Meaning what exactly? I'll be all happy with who I am and the choices I make will be golden and every
thing will fall into place like the end of some Tom Hanks movie? Probably not.

Anywho, enough with the bellyaching. Today is my daughter's last day of 4Th grade. It's awesome
for her. She really is great. Watching her turn older has been incredible. I feel kind of bad for
her because she couldn't have gotten a more cynical father. School annoyed me then and it annoys me now. All the people you thought were going to be around forever. All the bullshit drama. All the getting in trouble....maybe that last part was just me. My dad used to tell me that
the only thing that mattered was family. That my friends would never last. I assumed he was drunk, which he probably was. But, that doesn't make it less true. I have one friend left from
those days (despite what Facebook thinks) that I have any contact with still. ONE. Not that there
was a crowd of them back then either. I have a feeling that had I gone to a bigger school I would
have been way more the outcast then I was at good ole Tri-Point.

My point? Oh, well, my point is that my poor kid has to deal with the fact that I am cynical as all get out. My wife isn't really a fan either. But that's like cancer saying it doesn't like you losing your hair from the chemo. I kid, but seriously, she hates it. How can she not? I'm like a cross between Eeyore and Doug Whiner. (Look that one up.) I tend to deal with things by being what I call proactively negative.
If things go right, I can then act pleasantly surprised. It's fun. Try it. Assume for a few days that everything sucks. And nothing is going your way. Imagine how awesome even the little victories will feel then!!! I should right a self help book. "How to Improve Your Life by Expecting the
Worst." by Jim Sprandel. What a great idea. Probably wouldn't sell though. Probably get bad reviews and everyone would think it was stupid. See how that works??? Pure gold.

Well, I'm off. Time to start some summer vacation. Hope it's as good as last year! The year that we did nothing and it was boring as hell and my personal life sucked hairy ass. See! There I go again! Someone get me a literary agent...