Look At what I made!!

I've been working on this piece for...a long time now. It was inspired by a musical artist named Kenna (who is a guy...and he's black...no joke) and the song is called "Red Man."

Listen to it here and see what you think.

The lyric that struck a chord with me was/is: "I'm a puppet cutting strings." Here's the picture:

Isn't he just deliciously creepy? A far cry from my usual stuff, which is why I like him so much. I tried to capture the unsettling mood of the song. I may have taken "unsettling" a little too far into the realm of "creepy/macabre" but I make no apologies. The background on this one felt so empty, though, I felt the need to do some touch-up work. So here's the new, the real, finished product:

The full verse is:
"noise too loud to heeear
LAUGH too hard to feeeeeel
when I fall asleeeeep
I'm a puppet
cutting strings"
 (spelling and layout taken from original printed version of song, 
found in the album "New Sacred Cow" by Kenna)

So I've titled my piece, "When I Fall Asleep..." (since "puppet cutting strings" was a little redundant) It would really make my day if you would listen to "Red Man" and tell me if you think the picture relates to the song at all. Or just stay here and admire my pretty pictures. That would make my day, too.

If you're curious about what my art usually looks like, I try to keep my deviantArt account up to date at http://www.miss-hobbit.deviantart.com and you're welcome to check me out there.

the Real cause Of My distress = Just another Excuse

I went for a jog this morning. (I know. I was surprised, too.) I was out for about ten minutes before I started getting that burning sensation in my lungs. The constriction, the phlegm, the wheezing sounds in my chest, after only ten minutes. Stupid asthmatic lungs.

The rest of my body was just starting to feel good. I could feel the muscles in my legs coming awake. My mind was clearing from the hazy clouds of sleep. And then my stupid asthmatic lungs shut everything down.
I had to walk back to the apartment in slow even paces while concentrating on breathing.  Way to ruin a good workout.

You have to be gentle with this kind of thing and not aggravate it. If I had "pushed through it" it would have resulted in an asthma attack, which would've been catastrophic as I do not have an inhaler. No treatment, really, for my asthma other  than staying away from strenuous physical activity. This is why I went for Pilates last semester as opposed to, say, cross-country.

It would be great if I could go jogging without my lungs. Just detach them somehow and leave them at home while the rest of my body enjoys all the benefits of a good run. Running strengthens muscles, increases blood flow, strengthens the heart, burns fat, and results in an endorphin boost. I want that! My lungs just give out too soon.

I'll keep going for morning jogs. Eventually my lungs will get stronger, it's happened before. They'll never be at the point I'd like them to be, but it's better than sitting at home doing nothing. And when money starts coming in this summer I'll buy a pass to a cheap rec center and start working out there. My lungs seem to be morally opposed to running, but I can work up a pretty good sweat on the elliptical machines.

It's a pain in the neck to work around asthma.

Being healthy almost seems over-rated for this kind of effort.

It must needs Be

I love Peter S. Beagle's book, The Last Unicorn. A lot. His prose strikes my soul to make me pine for things I never knew I could imagine. He uses metaphors that are at once unusual and thoughtful, and perfectly fitting in every way. I love getting lost in his words.

I own the book The Last Unicorn, and the movie, and the soundtrack. A graphic novel version came out earlier this year and it has become my new life's ambition to own it.

I started reading The Innkeeper's Song, since Mr. Beagle has said that, of his novels, that one is his favorite. I can see why. It's pretty complex in that it switches from character to character, switching voice and viewpoint within the same story. It must have been quite a challenge to write. I was really enjoying it until last night, when I hit the middle of the book.
The three main women are completely drunk (they had a hard day...fighting assassins and burying dead bodies and endlessly searching for their magician tutor) and the young lusty stableboy comes in to offer his help.

Woah now, Peter...where are we going with this?

And the tension gets a little...weird. As in, feels like we're on the cusp of adolescent male fantasy fulfillment weird.

Hey now, Peter...we're keeping this G rated, right?

And, long story short, they all end up in bed together in some weird four-some orgy.

Eeeew!! AAACK!!! Oh that I could pluck out my mind's eye!!

I was mildly (extremely) annoyed with Mr. Beagle for letting that kind of smut enter his work. This scene only serves to gratify the stableboy character, possibly the author, and any men (or lesbians, I guess) who happen to read the book. But men and lesbians are not really his target audience, so I don't see that happening very often. Pertinent question: how does this scene further the plot??

Until we find out one of the women is actually a man.

Aaaaugh!! Make it stop make it stop make it stop!!

Under disguise as a women by magic (of course) to protect him/her from the assassins on his/her trail.

Insert the gigantic eyeroll and gagging *here* Feels like I'm reading a really bad porno script.

Really, Peter? There was no other way to let us know that she was actually a man? You couldn't have found a more tactful way to bring that revelation to the surface? Or more shocking, if tact isn't your thing. But this? This was just...gross and in no way believable.

In his defense, there were no explicit details given. Vague hints, impressions. But the fact that it happened at all is just...ugh! I've lost all the respect I had for the characters. My curiosity about their lives, or interest in their personalities, is gone. There's no substance to them now, nothing real; they're just opportunities to provide smutty fantasy gratification, which makes me wonder at the motivation for writing this story in the first place.

The book was excellent up to that point. Now the question is, do I bother finishing it? I'm sure it wasn't meant to be offensive. The offense comes from my own background and viewpoints. I could keep reading with the understanding that it is not the intention of the book to be smutty or trashy, it's just how the plot unfolded. But if I keep reading, I run the risk of being disappointed again.
I like believing that I like Peter S. Beagle. If this book disappoints me again, I'll have to revise my idealistic perception of Beagle and his works.

I'll always like The Last Unicorn. At least that part won't need revision. The Last Unicorn will always strike a chord in me, and I will always find something new in the words. As much as I crave more of that writing, that voice, that spell-binding prose...I may have to learn to be satisfied with that book alone.

rather Be eaten By A jabberwocky

I need to not be on this computer right now. I need to not be writing on blogger. But now that we're on the topic...

Look at how tiny the words can get!!

What I need to do is get myself into the shower, into some clean clothes, and into my car. From there I will drive to places that I don't want to go and give people I don't like handfuls of my hard-earned money. Why will I do this, you ask?

Because the time of the inevitable has come upon us. It's time to register my car.

I can get a safety and emissions test for pretty cheap at Jim's, which is not far from here. But what if they find something wrong and I have to fork out hundreds of dollars for repairs? That's what worries me: the potential for disaster. My car is over ten years old now. It's no spring chicken. (assuming "spring chicken" means what i'm assuming "spring chicken" means...) It's not an unlikely possibility.
Then there's the registration fee to the DMV. And while I'm out, I may as well get that oil change I've been putting off for a month. And my back tire has a slow leak...gotta find someone who can patch that for me.

It's rainy and gloomy and foggy today, outside and in. I just want to go back to bed.

On the other hand, what better time to be out and about? The weather has finally decided to reflect what I'm feeling inside. I should be out there to bask in it. Nature and I will share commonalities and exchange sympathies. In a way, the gloomy overcast weather could do me more good than sunshine.

Alright, I'm going. Let the record show, I tore myself from the internet before noon. That could quite possibly be my only victory of the day. Sweet, savory victory.

perchance Miyazaki Will make Me Feel better

Yesterday was terrible. A certifiable Non-Day. I stayed in bed all day. My body hurt, my mind was restless, my emotions were on edge.

My brain stopped translating sound into words, or laughter, or music...it all just came through as noise. Painful, irritating noise that grated against my consciousness.

My husband found me sitting on the bathroom floor, knees pulled up to my chin, covering my ears. It was the only place that was quiet. I just needed silence. He asked me if I was okay, which I thought was funny because I had just been wondering the same thing.

He suggested we go on a walk. The temperature was perfect. The flowers are in bloom, every breath was fragrant and pleasant. My body felt better, but my mind was still clouded with sadness.

I spent most of yesterday asleep in bed. I knew that it would mean I'd be awake all night, but I couldn't shake the sleepiness. And in a way I looked forward to being awake past midnight, because I knew it would be quiet, dark, and I'd be alone.
Much to my surprise, I slept through the whole night without waking up once.

Why would my body need that much sleep? What's the reason for this sudden depression?

I asked my mom if she ever gets depressed for no reason. She said (and I hope she doesn't mind me sharing this here), "Sure. Sometimes I get depressed if I'm getting sick, or if I'm coming up on my time of the month, and one time the Gulf War started."

So there you have it. I'm either getting sick, starting a menstrual cycle, or World War III is about to start.

Let's all cross our fingers and hope it's the flu.

SOOOO....

Maybe you'll be sad, maybe you won't. I, myself, am still deciding how I feel about it.

So, here's the thing....

It goes like this....

Well, it just....

Wow, there's no easy way to say it.
Guess I'll just say it.

I'm not going to New York this summer.

O.o

There's just no way to make it happen this summer. My current job is only willing to let me take 5 days off, and that's not enough time to get there, see stuff, and get back. And money is tighter than I had expected it to be.

The tentative plan now is to fly out to Florida and stay with my friend's family there for a few days. Hang out on the beach, see the sights of the Sunshine State, and then (somehow) come back. If we come back by car it could take longer than my job would be happy with, and if we fly it could take more of my dollars than I would be happy with.
I'm still down with seeing Florida, we just need to hammer out a few more of the details.

New York is on the to-do list for next summer.

Maybe it's better that way. My darling husband (he's "darling" because he's not here right now, wasn't here yesterday, won't be back till tonight, and sleeping alone in bed is chillier than I remember it being) has never been to New York and wants to go. Maybe this way we'll be able to go together. Maybe it won't be next summer, maybe it will. Whenever.

It's gonna happen, though. Fo' sho'.

*blink blink*

I have brushed and flossed my teeth for three days in a row now. Today will be the fourth.

I'm shocked, too. It's not like I sat down and made a goal to floss my teeth every  morning. It's just that I have time now. And so, apparently, when I have time, I bother to take care of myself.

And I clean my apartment.

It's all very strange and new to me, too.

Also, I just discovered the band Uniform Motion, and I'm especially in love with their song "Roll Over."

You can listen to the whole song at their website : Uniform Motion.

I'm pretty sure my car is on the verge of death. I really (really) don't want it to die on my way to work this evening, especially since my husband won't be around tonight to rescue me. So I'm going to visit a mechanic this morning. I'll probably (definitely) have to dip into our savings account for that visit.

I don't want to do it.

But I don't want my car to die, either.

Oh joyous anxiety, you are much over due. I haven't had to worry about my car for nearly six months now, and that is just way too long to not worry about flat tires or oil changes or the fact that my power locks no longer work, and that my side mirror is DUCT TAPED to my car, or that my headlights/all lights in the car flicker for no explicable reason. And now my engine is making threatening noises and abruptly slows my car down like it's going to quit, and whines when I push down on the accelerator.

I don't want to take out of our savings account (it has taken so long to build it up to its current meager total). I don't want to go to the mechanic. Most of all, I don't want to get out of my pajamas.

But that's what being an adult requires of us. So I'll suck it up and go be an adult for a few hours.

this almost Had a Brilliant Title

My to-do list consists of the following items (to be addressed in this order):

• Read *
• Draw/Paint something *
• Dishes (there are always dishes...)
• Take a nap *
• Go to work from 6 - 11 **

* = optional
** = very, very not optional

This, my friends, is what I would call a good day.

^_^

I got up at 7 this morning to go on a walk with my husband (he says we need to exercise more...and he's right...but I don't think a 30 minute stroll is going to justify our current calorie intake...OH WELL) and I've been awake ever since.

Taking care of, you know, To-Do List stuff. ^_0

Because of this, the "take a nap" item is becoming less and less of an "optional," and will be moving in a more "mandatory" direction come about 2:00 - 2:30.

I love this summer.

A great deal of my energies are being spent on appreciating, savoring, and recognizing the fleeting nature of this break from school. Life does not generally move at this leisurely pace. Life is generally hard, frantic, and relentless.
I think everyone needs a break from Life's grueling demands, hopefully every once in a while.
When this break is over I will go back to enduring pressures of deadlines and obligations and taxing, wearisome worries, probably for another 2 or more years before another break comes along.
It hurts to remember that this will end all too soon. I think it's that pain that keeps me productive, though. Rather than lay around waiting for something to do, I find things I want to do, that I've been waiting for an opportunity to do, and then I do them.

There are moments, when I look around my quiet apartment, breathing in the sunshine that falls in through the blinds, that I feel completely and thoroughly good. I try to imprint that sensation into my permanent memory banks, as something to fall back on when this is all over. When things are dark and worrisome I'll be able to think back and remember what I had, what I'll have again, and know that life is, essentially, good.