14 Mostly-Productive Things To Do When You’re In A Slump
1. Go back to every moment when you thought you’d never get up. Every time you yelled at your computer and your computer stared straight back at you like a nun. Every spilled opportunity, stained day, tripped chance. You could’ve done a thousand times better a thousand times, but you didn’t, and you won’t, and everyone’s just trying as isthisokay? as they can.
2. Remind yourself what a slump actually is: A natural dip in morale and productivity after a period of (relative) success. As normal as Newton’s third law.
3. Send an email to the one person you’d trust to repair a spaceship’s centrifuge in a Mars One situation. The person whose Gchats are better than Xanax. The person who makes your blood krump down your veins. Do not end this email with “Best.”
4. Read that book no one asked you to read. It’s not on a single top ten list. It will not give you any talking points at parties. Nothing to flaunt on the subway. You are boring and it doesn’t matter.
5. Find the CD-R of your self-doubting inner monologue. It plays on loop in a lockbox in a closet in your head. It was recorded in the early aughts, when you were in eighth grade and starting to write your own insecurities. You can hear its prosody like a fetus hears everything its mother says, but consonantless. Find it, and — after listening to everything you’ve been listening and not-listening to for the past decade — pause that shit.
6. Run. Literally or whatever. Just don’t think. Imagine scooping out your frontal lobe and emptying it into a trash can. Roll your eyes back and go. You can think when you’re dead.
7. Open that project you started three years ago — the one you kept telling yourself you’d finish but you never did — and break it. Tear it apart, start over in the middle, trash all the good parts and only keep what’s embarrassingly bad. Try to do your worst.
8. Block that person you should’ve blocked a long time ago. Unfollow anyone who makes you feel polite. It. Doesn’t. Matter. None of it. Let their texts slide from your shoulders and onto the floor like light blue rain.
9. Take off your sunglasses.
10. Call your mom. Let her tell you about her vegetable garden. Let her tell you she loves you.
11. Send a thank-you note to the high school teacher you always did your homework for. The one who worked nights to quietly change the course of your life, and you didn’t know it, and they didn’t know it. Be sentimental. If you’re still thinking of them now, ten years later, you’ve earned the right to all the cheese you want.
12. Think of what scared you before you were ten. The claws of dust mites, your parents’ divorce, live burial. You’d stare at the wall next to your bed, tracing all those fears on the bumpy plaster. They didn’t come true. Or maybe they did, but you’re still breathing.
13. You are so much. There are bacteria with pill-like bodies in your stomach and they have existed since the beginning of the universe. You are more than you know, than anyone knows, than doctors and lawyers and scientists know, and this is not overwhelming, this is hopeful and good and magical, and you are a lot. Remember this.
14. Know that people will give you the benefit of the doubt. People will forgive you. People will forget you. People will put their earbuds in their ears and listen to the sounds they want to listen to. People will dye their hair whatever color they want to. People will eat the foods they want to eat and move to the cities they want to move to. Just do what you want and remember that no one cares. And that’s a cliché and it doesn’t matter.
Wait a second, wait a fricking second! I've seen that Stan meme all over my dash and now I'm finding out it came for you all along? Again?! Who are you? Why are you bringing the memes into the world?! Is this yet another plan to kill us all?
I was just on the Steven Universe subreddit, and I was looking at the comments on that comic going around with the SU intro (”We, are the”) and Stan interrupts with the dramatic author meme bit.
And I just had an absolute surrealist moment.
Like all these people with opinions on the meme. Some entertained. Some sick of it. And I realized- none of them know who I am. Probably none of them saw the original post. None of them follow me. These are people on an entirely different website in an entirely different fandom. And yet I’ve impacted all of them. I could have never reblogged that post. I could have never left that comment. And tens of thousands of people I’ve never met would have had an entirely different week.
so i finally decided to make a post of my everyday makeup products in the order that i apply them! these are pretty tried and true, seeing as i use them every day. i have very pale skin + struggle with hormonal and cystic acne so if you guys have any questions about anything specific let me know :~)
urban decay eyelid primer potion
smashbox light primer
lip balm (doesn’t matter what kind, burts bees is a good product)
How long does a game usually go through development before it is first announced to the public?
Quite a long time, usually over a year. Let’s take a look at the old MS Paint image I created a while ago:
In order to understand why it’s such a long time, you have to take a step back and think about the money involved. A game’s public announcement marks the beginning of its marketing strategy, which follows a rather tight schedule. At set intervals after the initial announcement, the publisher will begin rolling out things like interviews, previews, screenshots, videos, developer blogs, ARGs, and so on. Each of these has a purpose, and a cost. Money changes hands for buying advertising, travel arrangements need to be made, booth and showcase costs at conventions and tradeshows, developers need to spend time building and doing press demos, etc. These are all non-trivial costs, often totaling in the millions when the game finally launches.
Most of these things are firmly in place by the time the product is announced. This means that the publisher is significantly less likely (or able) to cancel the project without realizing a significant loss that’s already been sunk into the marketing plan, in addition to any costs the development has incurred up to that point. Remember, the average game’s marketing budget is usually as large, if not larger, than the development cost of the game itself. Cancelling development after spending millions is already painful enough, but cancelling both development and marketing can result in double the loss or more.
Furthermore, in order to make marketing even somewhat effective, the game has to show well. This means that the publisher can’t simply just show some concept art and a logo and call it good; they need to be impressive and memorable, and that means showing off (near-)production quality visuals. Pre-production prototypes with placeholder assets and low frame rates simply aren’t good enough when releasing screenshots or trailers. It isn’t enough to simply let people know it is there, but they need to get a positive impression of the product. That’s why the marketing material is so limited in scope each time it is put up, and why developers talk about a limited number of topics in interviews and such.
What this means is that the game’s official announcement will almost never happen until it reaches the production stage in the development cycle, after almost all of the major gameplay systems have been at least specced out and the game’s [Vertical Slice] has been built already, and most likely even some time after that. Typically, this means that a game’s official announcement is determined by the marketing schedule, and usually around a year (or less) before the game’s launch. That way the marketing team doesn’t have to stretch to get people to still remember the game through more than one major holiday season. It also means that whenever a game that’s been announced gets cancelled, it’s a really big loss for the publisher.