Sunday, August 9, 2015
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Fly Away with Me (Original Work)
'Fly Away With Me'
Details:
12" X 14" on a 12" X 14"
Canvas Stretch over board
(Acrylic, Matte Gel, Paper)
Fly Away with Me (Work in Progress)
I had a pretty dang cool dream the other night and I have spent a large part of the last two days daydreaming about it.
(Which means conversations with me were likely annoying and impossible -I am not really present when in this mood. You may have dealt with a lot of "Say what again?" or "Can you start over" as I checked in and out of our fractured dialogue. ...my Apologies.)
Anyway. Yesterday. I have two-ish hours just for me. First time in a week or so and I happily started on the atmosphere but! ugh! UGH! It's so... FLAT! I was using heavy gels for texturing yet they are still blandly lackluster, There is no movement.
Irritated I fiddled with paint and absently kept pushing Charlie the cat-dog away. He ignored my attempts to ignore him and kept pawing at my legs, ever loudly beseeching "Pick me up!" Exasperated I look down and scold him, "No! Not now!"
"MEOOOWOWOWWWWW!" he replied, eyes narrowing, ears laying flat and claws lightly hooked in my legs, not quite breaking the skin ...yet.
I gave up and sat on the floor to hug the persistent creature. I see he has thoughtfully pulled out all of the silky soft packing paper (which five minutes ago had been uselessly folded neatly in a box). Resigned I made him into a happy burrito with the paper. This pleased him very much and I am laughing as I watch him chase a shadow under it....
The soft paper reflects light and shadow as the brightness of the room shifts from outside clouds rolling past the sun outside...
Huh.
I got up, (first pulling the easel chair over so Char would have a front row seat next to me and perhaps leave me to my endeavors), mixed some of the heavy matte gel with water and paint, crinkled up the paper and stuck it over the cloud.... Yes.....
Mess.. glorious awesome mess..... water is dripping all over my hands, the canvas and I am grinning so hard my face hurts...
Three hours later, the beginning is begun.
My preoccupation is worse.
(Which means conversations with me were likely annoying and impossible -I am not really present when in this mood. You may have dealt with a lot of "Say what again?" or "Can you start over" as I checked in and out of our fractured dialogue. ...my Apologies.)
Anyway. Yesterday. I have two-ish hours just for me. First time in a week or so and I happily started on the atmosphere but! ugh! UGH! It's so... FLAT! I was using heavy gels for texturing yet they are still blandly lackluster, There is no movement.
Irritated I fiddled with paint and absently kept pushing Charlie the cat-dog away. He ignored my attempts to ignore him and kept pawing at my legs, ever loudly beseeching "Pick me up!" Exasperated I look down and scold him, "No! Not now!"
"MEOOOWOWOWWWWW!" he replied, eyes narrowing, ears laying flat and claws lightly hooked in my legs, not quite breaking the skin ...yet.
I gave up and sat on the floor to hug the persistent creature. I see he has thoughtfully pulled out all of the silky soft packing paper (which five minutes ago had been uselessly folded neatly in a box). Resigned I made him into a happy burrito with the paper. This pleased him very much and I am laughing as I watch him chase a shadow under it....
The soft paper reflects light and shadow as the brightness of the room shifts from outside clouds rolling past the sun outside...
Huh.
I got up, (first pulling the easel chair over so Char would have a front row seat next to me and perhaps leave me to my endeavors), mixed some of the heavy matte gel with water and paint, crinkled up the paper and stuck it over the cloud.... Yes.....
Mess.. glorious awesome mess..... water is dripping all over my hands, the canvas and I am grinning so hard my face hurts...
Three hours later, the beginning is begun.
9" X 12"
Acrylic, Matte gel, packing paper on Canvas
(Canvas stretched over board)
My preoccupation is worse.
Sunday, August 2, 2015
Friday, July 31, 2015
Just quit
Holy blessed of Friday....
I have too many topics in my head. Watching them all run around is a lot like watching Luna go after a rabbit, squirrel and bird. Too many targets; each very interesting, all going in opposite directions and everything very fast. Results are a steroidal spaz attack.
I am laughing at myself and the mental vision of Luna.
Ok, ok focus!
Am trying to get the shell off my daily hard boiled egg. Every Monday I boil six for the week. I always eat at least one in the morning and I seem to always need an extra one. Five always peel cleanly with no trouble yet there is always one that does not. It's a chewed up unappealing aggravated mess. Why? WHY??
Try again, focus.
This is the trouble with cigarettes. I thought about it a lot this week as I am trying to quit... again... (I don't know which number this try is)... and I have realized the true reason I love them.
Huh, just thinking about a smoke I start to focus. It's almost a sound in my head. The reason I love to smoke is that I focus. I center. I can think of only three other things that do that to me. Flying, skiing and painting.
Yes, in that order. Thing about the first two is that not focusing can have lethal results. Painting settles me. It's why I ache for it when it's been too long. Everything starts to feel frayed and thin. It's that hole in your favorite pair of jeans, rubbed so bare you know the slightest gesture will render it torn.
Fiddling with my said favorite pair I wonder if I have any stop fray left at home? Hm. Maybe should add it to list.
Come back M, come back.
Smoking brings the world in and pushes it out. Everything is manageable. I am clearer, calmer -focused.
Solutions? Perhaps nicotine gum would help but I dislike chewing gum. I feel like a cow. "Vaping" looks sketchy. The time I tried it for a week I gave myself a wet cough. I thought about the patch but I don't like things on me.
Really, I am particular about things on me. I have a tendency to live in skirts and flip flops when able to. I have designed many a tattoo for others. I have designed two for myself but I don't actually have one. Feels too permanent for my inclinations.
Focus.
I miss it. I know smoking may kill me, limit me, maim me so I keep trying to quit. I play head games with myself and use different angles. I focus on Any shortness of breath when running (honing in on my mortality) and observe any unsuspecting oxygen tank using person I come across. I am vain so I consider the toll it takes on my skin, hair, teeth. I think about my sweetheart and the world he means to me and that by not smoking he either smokes less or not at all. "Be a good influence!" I chant. Not even joking; I praise myself each morning I wake up with the happy words "You are smoke Free!" and use this to cheer lead myself through my commute.
But who am I kidding? I was not Ever a cheer leader. I was a tom-boy / borderline manic rebellious teenager.
Then some well intention-ed (I hope, I think?) friend will make a comment or send passive aggressive nosy text message (usually right in the middle of the latest and greatest quit week so I am easily provoked) reciting stats about early menopause, infertility, wrinkles and heart disease... Adult side is derailed and irritated as my inner sixteen year old whines to be allowed to tell them to F*!@ off.
I want to remind them that there are little labels on each pack and billboards roaring from the road and commercials blaring from both radio and TV - each screaming of dire consequences awaiting all that indulge... I eat my veggies, walk/ run every day, rarely drink soda, guzzle water and coffee so shove off!
Anyway. This is my quandary.
Sigh. I have ruined this egg.
I have too many topics in my head. Watching them all run around is a lot like watching Luna go after a rabbit, squirrel and bird. Too many targets; each very interesting, all going in opposite directions and everything very fast. Results are a steroidal spaz attack.
I am laughing at myself and the mental vision of Luna.
Ok, ok focus!
Am trying to get the shell off my daily hard boiled egg. Every Monday I boil six for the week. I always eat at least one in the morning and I seem to always need an extra one. Five always peel cleanly with no trouble yet there is always one that does not. It's a chewed up unappealing aggravated mess. Why? WHY??
Try again, focus.
This is the trouble with cigarettes. I thought about it a lot this week as I am trying to quit... again... (I don't know which number this try is)... and I have realized the true reason I love them.
Huh, just thinking about a smoke I start to focus. It's almost a sound in my head. The reason I love to smoke is that I focus. I center. I can think of only three other things that do that to me. Flying, skiing and painting.
Yes, in that order. Thing about the first two is that not focusing can have lethal results. Painting settles me. It's why I ache for it when it's been too long. Everything starts to feel frayed and thin. It's that hole in your favorite pair of jeans, rubbed so bare you know the slightest gesture will render it torn.
Fiddling with my said favorite pair I wonder if I have any stop fray left at home? Hm. Maybe should add it to list.
Come back M, come back.
Smoking brings the world in and pushes it out. Everything is manageable. I am clearer, calmer -focused.
Solutions? Perhaps nicotine gum would help but I dislike chewing gum. I feel like a cow. "Vaping" looks sketchy. The time I tried it for a week I gave myself a wet cough. I thought about the patch but I don't like things on me.
Really, I am particular about things on me. I have a tendency to live in skirts and flip flops when able to. I have designed many a tattoo for others. I have designed two for myself but I don't actually have one. Feels too permanent for my inclinations.
Focus.
I miss it. I know smoking may kill me, limit me, maim me so I keep trying to quit. I play head games with myself and use different angles. I focus on Any shortness of breath when running (honing in on my mortality) and observe any unsuspecting oxygen tank using person I come across. I am vain so I consider the toll it takes on my skin, hair, teeth. I think about my sweetheart and the world he means to me and that by not smoking he either smokes less or not at all. "Be a good influence!" I chant. Not even joking; I praise myself each morning I wake up with the happy words "You are smoke Free!" and use this to cheer lead myself through my commute.
But who am I kidding? I was not Ever a cheer leader. I was a tom-boy / borderline manic rebellious teenager.
Then some well intention-ed (I hope, I think?) friend will make a comment or send passive aggressive nosy text message (usually right in the middle of the latest and greatest quit week so I am easily provoked) reciting stats about early menopause, infertility, wrinkles and heart disease... Adult side is derailed and irritated as my inner sixteen year old whines to be allowed to tell them to F*!@ off.
I want to remind them that there are little labels on each pack and billboards roaring from the road and commercials blaring from both radio and TV - each screaming of dire consequences awaiting all that indulge... I eat my veggies, walk/ run every day, rarely drink soda, guzzle water and coffee so shove off!
Anyway. This is my quandary.
Sigh. I have ruined this egg.
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
An Ode
My latest poem:
Women use restrooms as private phone booths.
Which is unfortunate
with only one per floor with three stalls and
500 billion women on said floor.
Last week,
As I hurried
(With a pot of coffee to relieve)
I finally snapped.
The three were all "full",
Two were beeping
One buzzing.
I had waited...
pointedly paced... reopened and closed the door
-but beeping and buzzing continued
At last I barked "Toilets are not texting stalls ladies!"
Insert a very Awkward pause...
while I try desperately to not laugh
And Then!
All three flushed
All three emerged flushed
Casting sideways glowering looks.
I smiled cheerfully at them all
and happily passed them on my way to the loo
Women use restrooms as private phone booths.
Which is unfortunate
with only one per floor with three stalls and
500 billion women on said floor.
Last week,
As I hurried
(With a pot of coffee to relieve)
I finally snapped.
The three were all "full",
Two were beeping
One buzzing.
I had waited...
pointedly paced... reopened and closed the door
-but beeping and buzzing continued
At last I barked "Toilets are not texting stalls ladies!"
Insert a very Awkward pause...
while I try desperately to not laugh
And Then!
All three flushed
All three emerged flushed
Casting sideways glowering looks.
I smiled cheerfully at them all
and happily passed them on my way to the loo
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