Barciella

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This list has been a long time coming! Look at all those covers side by side! Here you will find the various translations of “Adulthood is a Myth”. Each language has a link that will take you to where you can purchase the book.

Portuguese (Brazil only)

German

Hungarian

Italian

Slovakian

Spanish 

Catalan

Ukrainian

Korean

**UPDATE! Czech now available! 

The languages that are either in the works, or I am still tracking down are Chinese (simplified), Turkish, Russian, French, Dutch, and Vietnamese. I will be updating this list as those come out. And remember, you can always buy the original in English here!

tbt

Por falar nisso… Não sei porque chamam de “santinho”. O nome mais adequado seria “capetinha”.

Ever notice how much all those Disney princesses talk to themselves? They talk to animals who can’t talk back. Plus their every emotion is expressed out loud. They’re very big on self-narration too. Basically they’re nuts.

I had a bit of extra time so I decided to do up a Slack Wyrm in colour. What do ya reckon? Better than the usual grey wash? I’m not sure which works better. Also trying decide what format to make the comics in - like this one in a neat little rectangle shape, or big flowing ones you have to scroll down to read each frame. 

The real question is - what does this woman want with the wyrm anyway?

Low IQ & A 

Patreon / Twitter / Instagram

by Adam Ellis

Corra! A tira tem possíveis SPOILERS de Stranger Things.

Princesses are very picky by nature.

by Adam Ellis

Sure, it hurts, but you can’t really blame the guy, I guess. At least he’s being honest.

One of the things you hear most often from people is that when writing, one should write what they know. Unfortunately for me, the vast majority of what I know is fairly archaic at best and absolutely useless to anyone but myself at worst. Every now and then, though, something comes up that I think, “Maybe someone else can actually relate to this.” Today is one of those days.

True perfectionism inhabits the unlikely nexus between narcissism and self loathing and acts like a black hole from which nothing productive can escape. For many people, creative types especially, this probably sounds familiar. On the one hand, we can think that something so ludicrous as perfection can and should be attained by us (narcissism) and on the other, we look at everything we do, see how far from perfection it truly is, and grasp in those moments how silly and impossible that dream is (self-loathing). This often results in its own strange kind of creative life cycle that takes on its own unique shape for each individual. For those harshest of self-critics, very little gets shared with the world, and for others, they simply live on this roller coaster, perhaps sharing but never happy.

The other alternative is to get off the ride and accept the imperfections in ourselves, our lives, and our work, and to maybe even appreciate them as we strive to better ourselves.

I was walking in the park yesterday and enjoying the trees and paths, and watching the animals that live there. I took a moment to sit down on a small stone wall and as I was examining the foliage and the ground around me, I saw a rock lying in the dirt by itself. I picked it up and held it for a bit and examined it. I honestly can’t tell you why I picked it up, the rock itself was wholly unremarkable at first, second, and third glance. It was certainly not the sort of rock one picks up and writes about, but here we are. It wasn’t large or smooth, it didn’t have an unusual shape or color, it was simply a rock covered with small imperfections and grooves, slightly rough on the skin with a sort of dusty brown and gray coloration. For whatever reason, it was these imperfections that stood out to me. Here was this little stone that had taken who knows how many years to form and be shaped and carried to this place, now sitting in my hand.

This imperfect seemingly unremarkable rock was remarkable in that it was unique. Sure, it may be similar to other stones, it certainly shares many of the same properties, but it’s a pretty safe bet that the details of its story are its own and that’s where the beauty lies in most things. I often worry about whether the jokes I write are good enough, whether the blog posts are interesting or insightful enough, whether I myself am good enough, and while those can be good motivators for self improvement, holding back from doing the things that you love out of fear of imperfection does not improve your life or offer anything useful to others.

Nothing in the universe is perfect but that in itself is a strange kind of perfection, if you ask me. It is, at the very least quite lovely if one stops to appreciate what makes things unique.

Is this blog post perfect? Not at all. Is the comic perfect? Nope. But I hope you’ve enjoyed them anyway.

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thesearabbitcomics:

I’ve already built my own nest. It’s the size of a kiddie pool. Mother says she’s worried and I try to reassure her that I am fine, but she can’t understand me for I speak like a bird.

Rolou a continuação aqui =D

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Malditos retardados que podem ter carta =\

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