Day 1 of "The Hammer Job"

can't explain what that means, unfortunately, as I'm not allowed to talk about this job very much, other than the fact it's another factory assignment.

 but here I go. wish me luck, and hopefully all this bad juju I'm feeling is misplaced.

EQLA POSTS INBOUND

Hey there folks! turns out I am NOT dead, but I haven't had anything other than airplane sleep (which counts for about a 1/4 of what it should be) since sunday morning, so I'm going to smear the posts out across the week and into the weekend.

I have most of the swagpost done, as that's the easiest, and I want the day-by-day breakdown and my panel highlights to come later, as I'm still in a crazy (good, but still crazy) emotional state. I just had the best three days of my life, and I'm trying to let them settle, as well as the fact I am starting a new job tomorrow that I've got reservations about, not the least of which is that I essentially am not allowed to talk about what I will be doing as a condition of working there.

also, my phone continues to slosh further down the bullshit slip-n-slide it's been on since the day I left, so getting the photos out at the proper resolution may require a hammer.

Still, don't want to leave you hanging, so here's a few quick teasers:

Ludicrous amounts of swag. all worth it.

Horse Famous People I have met: EQLA 2015

Not so much EQLA (though it was the last leg of my flight back), so much as Sweetsong and I agree this is one of the best shots we've taken of her.

anywho, Catch you around, Constant Readers. This dog has a sleephole to dig himself.

can die happy now.

@Fyre_flye @M_A_Larson @KeatingRogers @gmberrow I met some heroes today. Proof that a life can turn around. #thankyou pic.twitter.com/UG2HrkbE9b

— Cadejo goes to EQLA (@CallMeCadejo) September 5, 2015

Safely in LA bed with AJ...the plush.

We have...arrived. #EQLADREAMING pic.twitter.com/6svpLTQG6d

— Cadejo Jones (@CallMeCadejo) September 4, 2015

Bless this solid earth

I swear. Swear. Next time I'm taking a train.

That was really bucking close.

It will actually be my ghost if you see me at EQLA, because I am actually dead of four consecutive coronaries trying to make my connection in JFK. I made it and am now actually just dead on the plane. Going to sleep instead of finishing my panel because holy jesus I can see his face who knew christ was a draft horse?

Stillness of soul in concourse B

There's no spirit in this place. Maybe--maybe when I was young, there was the bitterness of departure, the excitement of travel about to begin. When I was young, there might have been the detensioning sigh of arrival, the warmth of travels finished and the welcoming arms of home.

It all died screaming when the security gates moved up the hall, but the roar of engines spooling up for departure and the deafening screech of fears made new 300 miles away in a smoldering hole in the center of a city washed them out like a puddle before a bursting dam.

Now even the air tastes sterile. Sterile the way the bleached air is in the cabin planes. The only thing that keeps me from getting sick is the desert sun awaiting me, the thought of sand and fire and freeways, and the impossibly pretty blonde sitting across from me.

In a tide of uneventful faces, she's like a sunflower in a field of wheat. She's nearly cut from stone, she's in such good shape. And her skin matches, flawless. Eyes like clear water in sunny climes, and a look of cold determination and intelligence. Hell, she's even wearing the kind of nikes I like.

Our eyes occasionally meet in disinterest, not looking directly at each other or anything at all, just roving in boredom. Beyond the fact it's half a bored hour in an airport, and that she's so far out of my league there's galaxies between, I don't want to interfere. She's so perfect as a human in a moment, I'm afraid if I approached her she'd shatter like glass and I'd have murdered a higher stage of human. Plus, it's better just to leave her to her own story, and not ruin this moment of amazement.

She points out that someone dropped her sunglasses. Her voice is perfect.

I don't believe, almost, that she's real. She's a reflection of what I want to be, in honesty.

And there's probably someone out there that thinks I'm some stupid fucking ideal. Everyone has these moments, whether they realize or not. We witness an idea that has actually been someone else with their own life and thoughts the whole time.

It's the only break from the disgusting view of an airport made ugly.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAND BUCK MY STUPID BUCKING PHONE

Thank you, you heaping pile of crap, thank you for shitting yourself at the worst possible moment.

music and camera are now effectively useless, because my phone decided to forget what the fuck a MicroSD card is EVEN THOUGH IT WAS USING SHIT FROM IT TWENTY MINUTES AGO MOTH---


anyways, going to get a camera at bestbuy or somewhere because I am not going to EQLA without some sort of photography equipment.


fuuuck.

top kek

but, really though. SOOON.

You've suffered an awesome fate, haven't you?

3 DAYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

until Equestria LA. :D
so actually, what I'm here to tell you is to not expect any blogposts before or during EQLA, because I will be doing at least some of the following:
BEFORE

• Packing
• Planning
• Trying to finish my panel
• Panicking 
• Panicking about my unfinished panel
• Panicking through a practice run of the pane
• being on planes
• did we mention panicking?

DURING

• Intermittent seizures out of pure joy
• Panicking about my panel
• Doing my panel
• Panicking mid-panel
• Panicking before meeting horse celebrities
• Eating Lunch with M. A. Larson (no, really)
• Chilling with a certain Duke for a least a bit
• PONIES EVERYWHERE OSMXIASDASMGGGFHFFHFGN
• In-N-Out Burger
• Like, Twice
• Visiting a semi-distant relation who lives out there, or them visiting me, or something
• Panicking about something
• Videotaping and Photographing everything in sight
• Trying not to get drive-by signed by Larson
• Probably panicking on the flights, because I hate flying
• Horse
• So Much Horse

So, if you see a big, crazy-haired Dweeb out there by the name of Cadejo Jones, make fun of his face or something. Tell him Heavy Gauge sent you.

or, TL;DR:

Seems that the wrath of the gods got a punch on the nose

and it's startin' to flow

think I might be sinkin'

Throw me a line 

if I reach it in time

I'll meet you up there 

where the path runs straight and high