Gifts from Myself (and maybe the Universe)

I think the universe is trying to cheer me up. During the three days I stayed in bed, sick and exhausted, dizzy and queasy, I received mail. Usually my mail is unwanted credit card offers and unnecessary papers from Covered California, but this this week I got not one, but TWO cool things. 

Naturally they were comic book related packages because comics are my life. Seriously, it's a problem. 

Luck Penny Kickstarter rewards!

And my pass to Emerald City Comic Con!

ft. the amazing art of Emi Lenox

I knew these were coming eventually since I ordered both, but I couldn't help feel like it was some sort of cosmic intervention to have them show up during one of my lowest weeks.  It was felt like a gentle nudge from the universe saying, "hey, it's not all terrible."

Then I got a text from my best friend, it was one of one of those silly inspirational quotes that I scroll past on Facebook. I don't remember the exact wording, but the gist was that I was her inspiration to keep going, because I was who she loved most (family and cat aside).

So, yeah.

I forget that it's not all terrible. I forget that people love me and that there are awesome things to look forward to. I forget to be present, to get out of my head and listen to something other than the thoughts of "not being good enough" that play constantly.

Sometimes good things pile up in the way that bad things tend to pile up. I am grateful for these little moments where I am reminded that I am alive and that there is good in the world. 

Moving Along

February was a month. I have never really been a fan (Valentine's Day included) maybe because it's a weird transition from winter to spring. Or maybe it's because I never really know what to expect from it.

The crazy thing is that nothing really happened. I went to school. I did homework. I went to work. I ran my monthly groups. But somehow my brain decided I needed to run the gamut of emotions, finally settling into apathy for a good chunk of the month. Good ole' apathy.

I guess it makes sense. It's easier to care about nothing than care about everything, which I do. I care too much about everything. It's exhausting.

But anyway, I promised myself and my writing group that I would make a conscious effort to write more.

I wrote this poem for my Writers on Writing class. I used words from Tongo Eisen-Martin as the skeleton (seen in italics) and sort built the poem around it. It's half found poem, half homage. It doesn't have a title.

Absentee funeral

all hollow bone and

dry heat, breathless

look behind you, witness these

holiday massacres, these

bloody spectacles

midnight

quick, runaway

past the (inter)section, into

quiet oblivion

why not lie, the whole truth

is

crumbling

urban myth

patrons saints of

groggy wine-stained,

masses, sifting through

fog soaked streets

sparkling pollution, diamonds

glittering between bricks

cracked open

we smile, empty

we agree

our convictions

groundless

-Inspired by "Someone's Already Dead" by Tongo Eisen-Martin

flower crowns make everything better

I wrote a whole blog post, but realized it was almost the same as the last two I posted. So I deleted it and thought about another way to look at things.

The only thing I kept was this:

We have to carve out a space for ourselves. Somewhere safe, somewhere we can thrive. I have to keep reminding myself that it is not my job to fix the world. I don't have to stand up for every injustice, but I do need to keep standing. I can't let the world swallow me up.

I can't let the world swallow me up. I can't let everything affect me so much. I need to focus on the things that keep me going.

The ladies comic book club I run had a flower crown night. Most of us had never made one. We sat for two hours, burning our fingers on hot glue, using each other as models so we could see what needed to be adjusted and complementing each others creations.

Every single one came out beautifully, each one completely different. It really was a reflection of the group. We are all so different, but each month we get closer and closer, bonding over our love for geeky things.

I know I tend to downplay my contributions to the world. Even when people insist that I am doing something great, I brush it off. Like the book club and the podcast. I just think people are being nice to me instead of believing their complements.

It's weird. I am the biggest cheerleader for my friends and family. It doesn't make sense that I can't see them doing the same for me. I guess I just don't feel like I'm doing anything worthy of praise.

(I know how ridiculous that is.)

Anyway, here is my flower crown:

 

And here is a link to the podcast that I participate in:

https://www.facebook.com/ComicsCastCast/

I hope everyone is enjoying this alarmingly warm weather in February. I'm going to work on writing more uplifting posts. Well, I'm at least going to work on writing more.

 

 

Reflection

October was a strange month. 

I fell into a slump, I couldn't find the words to communicate my feelings. I couldn't even write about it. I felt myself drifting farther from the people who love me. I could see it, but I couldn't stop it. 

My birthday weekend was filled with complicated emotions. I celebrated with a friend, wanting to keep it quiet. I saw the Icelandic band, Of Monsters and Men, who sang about nature and heartbreak. I ate pie at midnight. The next night I drank too much. 

I woke up in the morning to my beloved cat, Boogie, fighting death to spend his last breath with me. Still a little drunk, I cried and murmured "my sweet boy" until it felt like I got to say goodbye. It was a death I was not prepared for. 

After the family get together, I dug him a grave in the back yard, next to the chicken coop. The ground was hard from the drought, I had to use a post hole digger to loosen the dirt. I dug until my arms shook, until my shoulders burned. I dug through sobs and sore hands. Mom came out with a flashlight after the sun went down. We planted a butterfly bush on top of him. Somehow, losing him was more heartbreaking than the others. 

I was glad that I buried him on my own. The pain from digging felt good, felt right. I got to say goodbye properly. And somehow, his death brought me back. At least, it started to.

The next week I saw Florence and the Machine at the Greek Theater. I cried happy tears, overwhelmed by the positive force of her voice. It seems that music and death were the forces I needed to get back to myself. 

I still feel myself slipping sometimes. There are days when I feel like it's all meaningless. But I'm slowly becoming more human. I can see beauty in things, I can smile (most of the time), and I'm starting to love people again.  

So to everyone, thank you, for being patient with me if I've seemed distant or moody. I promise, I'm trying to turn things around. 

Sinking

I'm trying, Universe, I really am.

It's three weeks into the semester and I am slowly losing my grip. But don't worry, I won't fall apart in some flashy dramatic way. It'll be quiet, behind doors, listening to Of Monsters and Men on a loop.

I wrote my first poems for poetry class. We were given a line from one of John Wieners poems to start them. I don't know how I feel abut them yet, so I will just post them without judgement.

1)
Old farms await to take us in
fold us into them
down dirt roads and crumbling highways
we rattle like loose tires
metal on metal, rubber on asphalt
we can hear our old mothers calling
kneading bread in the early hours of morning
kneeling down at bedtime
crosses clasped in cracked hands
we can hear our old lives waning
as the tires roll over uneven pavement
your hand out the window
catching the wind

2)
Old farms await to take us in
ancient roots grow under our feet
sprouting from hidden lakes underground
I walk through the tall grass
watching the stooped farm houses shrink
the farther my feet take me into the green ocean
if you listen closely,
can you hear
the gentle waves
the cries of birds
sometimes, there is silence
a stillness, as if time has stopped
alone in a sea of grass, I imagine
brittle wood splintering
a real ocean, full of fury
crashing down
drowning us all

A song to go with my mood:

Bees

 

School started last week. 

This morning I saved a bee from drowning. They drink from the kiddie pool I fill for my ducks and often drown in the process. I made a little bee drinking container, but they are drawn to the larger body of water. I can't save them all.

Did you know my name means honey bee? It's Greek. I don't know if that has anything to do with being drawn to their safety or not. Maybe it is some sort of self-preservation. I used to think that my name didn't suit me, but I think I've grown into it. Honey bees are a collective, for the greater good, something that  I strive to embody.

Sometimes I feel like a speck in the world. Actually, many of my days are spent feeling like an empty space in the universe. I'm not sure if it is from feeling like I'm unheard, or because I am crushed by the weight of possibility. It could be anything in between. Either way, it's exhausting to be in a constant state of existential crisis.

But if you think about it, bees are just tiny specks in the world, yet without them, our existence would be much less beautiful. No flowers, less plants, no fruit. We would survive, but there would be a noticeable absence.

It's really easy to fall into the pitfalls of my anxiety when school starts. Suddenly my worth is quantified into grades. Suddenly, if I struggle with an assignment, it's because I'm not smart or creative enough. Or maybe I'm not trying hard enough. School makes all my flaws float to the surface and I have to deal with them head on. And more often than not, I feel as though I am insufficient.

I guess what I'm getting at is, I am a honey bee. I need to remember that even though I may be a speck, I exist for a reason. And my absence would be noticed.

Time

Time is a weird thing.

I can never really get the hang of it; always elusive and confusing. Days and weeks will pass in a spiral of slowing and speeding moments that I'm never fully aware of.

Summer is coming to an end soon and I have not completed any of the tasks I wanted to. I have not fixed up and learned how to drive the manual Acura Integra that has been sitting in my driveway. I have not completed any writing projects. I haven't even finished putting together the zine for the comic shop.

Needless to say, I am not great at completing things.

Time.

I mean, look at the babies in that photo (that's me in the middle). I am about the same age my niece is now, which places it about twenty five years ago. A whole quarter century, almost the entirety of my life; yet in the grand scheme of things, it is a blip on the cosmic timeline.

I guess what I am getting at is, we tend to worry too much about time, I worry too much about time. I make up these timelines and then sink farther and farther into a cycle of shame and defeat when it doesn't play out the way I think it will. In my quest to be kinder to myself (and live a less anxious existence) I need to let go of some of these expectations.

You'd think that after all these years I would realize that I complete things in my own time. I get this feeling that I am a failure because I don't do everything I want to and in turn, completely ignore the things that I am actually accomplishing.

This summer I started a writer's group and I'm putting together an all women creators zine. I've been keeping up on my blog. Though it wasn't much, I made some progress on my graphic novel Delirium. If we don't celebrate our accomplishments, it's easy to forget they are even happening.

I need to stop thinking about time in a sense that I am wasting it.

Blue Moon

I don't know if others feel this way, but some days it is really difficult to live in this world, this reality that we have created. I am a big picture kind of person, who looks at all sides of issues to understand them and unfortunately, not everyone does the same. And it is frustrating because I just want people to understand.

But isn't that the reason I became a writer?

This past week has really made me appreciate my education, for many reasons. As someone studying writing, I often am confronted with, "you don't need a degree to be a writer." While yes, this is true, anyone can start typing away and write a book--maybe even a highly acclaimed or bestselling one--I feel that studying your passion is never a waste of time.

I struggled with whether or not I should study writing, or something else and just write on the side as a hobby. I decided to follow my dream of writing, and after a year at SF State, I'm glad I did.
I am more comfortable in my writing and am improving everyday. The literature classes I've been taking for my minor are exposing me to new writers and genres. My understanding of the world and how literature shapes and reflects it grows with every story/novel/poem I read.

So even though I have days when I don't want to exist in this world, days where people's uneducated opinions are harmful to others, days when I feel like a lone voice of reason in a sea of voices louder than mine, even still, I don't ever want to stop learning. Because even though I feel too small to change the world, if I keep writing, I can at least shift it a little.

Tomorrow night is a blue moon, the last until 2018. I think there has been a change in me and while I don't necessarily believe in astrology, it would be foolish to discount the power of the moon. After all, it controls the ocean.

Distance

There is something lonely about the landscape of middle California. I took the train down to Los Angeles last week and it wasn't as peaceful as I remember it being. Maybe it had something to do with the hour long delay on the way down. Or maybe the charm of traveling by train has worn off. Next time I'll probably fly.

It had been so long since I ran away to LA. Last summer I was too poor to take my annual trip to clear my head, which is probably why I've been feeling so off lately. It didn't make any sense, I have so many good things going on in my life, yet there was a lingering cloud of unease. I couldn't put my finger on it.

Perspective. I needed to leave to gain perspective.

I needed to spend time with one of my favorite people in the world. I needed to walk everywhere and eat delicious food. I needed to get out of Santa Rosa and break my daily routine that has become stale.

Most importantly, I needed to be around my creative partner to fall back in love with my story. I've been working on Delirium for four years now, which makes it my longest running project. After struggling with it for a year, I realized it needed to be a graphic novel because the story couldn't just be told in one point of view. And what better person to have illustrate than your best friend?

Your insanely talented best friend.

But then because I am a crazy person, I kept trying to write it as a traditional story anyway. It took half a bottle of wine and spending a weekend with Blair to finally start writing it as it was meant to be. Granted, I regret writing while mildly intoxicated, but I am at least going in the right direction.

Luckily we are both struggling with the project, so we can commiserate together.

Final Thoughts on June

Over the years I've been collecting books on writing, usually from required reading lists in various creative writing classes. I would read the chapters assigned and then place them on a shelf to collect dust; but then something happened last week. I pulled them all down from the shelf where they were neatly organized and I began to go through them for inspiration. Granted, I got them down to find prompts for the Writer's Block meeting, but I didn't stop there.

I think my brain is finally ready to jump back into my stories. I've been wondering about my characters lately and July is a great time to find out what they're all up to. Zillah is still in that damn diner and Madeline just wants to understand why she lets the man she loves break her down into smaller and smaller pieces. I don't even know what's going on with my demigod siblings.

Part of my hesitation is because when I look back at my stories, I realize how awful they are. Not the ideas or the characters, but how I wrote everything. It's crazy to think about how much I've grown as a writer in the last year. I'm pretty sure it's more than I have in the previous five years. I was so afraid that the writing program would be too much for me, but I stayed afloat and my skills shot up into the sky. I'm really proud of myself.

So since it's almost July and I haven't done it in a while, I think I'm going to sign up for Camp NaNoWriMo. I need a reason to show up every day to write. I still haven't quite gotten to the point where I can do it without an "assignment." Plus, this time I have a community of writers to keep me motivated. Seriously, starting Writer's Block is probably one of my favorites things from this summer so far.

 

 I'm so ready. 

In other news, I've been making myself more and more at home at the shop. In honor of Pride (and the Supreme Court ruling) I made a display of comics/trades that feature LGBT+ characters. It was my favorite display yet!

 I want to decorate the entire store in rainbows.

AND I just checked the Girls With Issues Facebook group (the ladies comic book club) and we have 70+ members! Even though we only have about 20 women show up to the meetings, it is fricken awesome that so many want to be part of our community. 

I never imagined working at Comics FTW would be so rewarding. I just thought it'd be cool to get cheap comics. 

June was a pretty good month.

Clarity

Showing up every day to write is difficult. Very difficult. But it is my job, right? I chose to be a writer, out of all the things I could've been. Well, to say I chose it wouldn't be entirely true. It is part of me. I can't survive without expressing myself on the page. If I don't write, I feel disconnected. It's how I process this big confusing world.

Even still, writing every day is hard. Some days I can only dribble out a few awful sentences. But some days I find that one sentence or phrase that resonates. One that longs to be something bigger. This week it was, "the ravens are calling." I have no idea what it means, but it stuck. I think it needs to be part of poem.

I've been working on showing up to write every day. I date my entries so I know what days I miss. It's not going great, but it's a process and I'm at least writing more than once a week. It's something.

Being out of school is fantastic because I have all this free time to do things that I love. I've been spending more time at the comic shop. I finally have been setting up our website and figuring out twitter so we can build our online presence. The downfall of all this free time is the inevitable self reflection that comes with it. Suddenly I have all this time to think.

 And I have time to get new glasses! 

(it's only been eight years...)

Remember all that talk of being kinder to myself? I'm trying, I really am. Every day I am dispelling the constant, "you aren't good enough, your life is a mess" thoughts that float through my head.

My life isn't a mess. I am loved. I have value. I can show up every day and write, even if it is a page on nonsense, because sometimes the ravens call and I find the little things that will grow into something bigger.

Still Learning

 Do you ever have days where you feel like you can't do anything right?

I don't expect to be the best at anything, but I'd like to be good at something. Anything, really. Some days I feel that I am falling short of being good at anything, except being the grumpiest person in the room. There's this lingering feeling that I'm not good enough. Not a good enough friend, employee, family member, person. I don't even know what standard I am trying to reach. I know I'm probably being too hard on myself. I always am.


For example, grade for Spring semester were finally posted on Friday. What was first elation that I managed to pass all my classes now has settled into reflection of all the things I could have done better.

 

My grades are really good. I have to keep reminding myself that not only am I at a university for the first time, I am also commuting for the first time and having to battle my anxiety on a grander scale than I ever have before. It was a miracle that I made it through my first year at SF State in one piece, let alone with a 3.65 GPA. 

I have been trying to be better at self-care, but I keep leaving out the part where I am kind to myself. I forget to celebrate my victories and forgive my mistakes. I dwell way too long on my failures and flaws. I mean, I do allow myself guilty pleasures, such as living in my new Alkaline Trio shirt for a week straight. 

I really need to wash it.

I allow myself days where I don't get dressed and zone out on TV shows without (much) judgement. I don't beat myself up too bad for missing social things when I can't muster the courage to go out. So I am getting better at taking days to decompress, but I really need to remember to think kindly of myself. To internalize all the encouragement and support I give to others. I need to practice self-love more than just self-care. 

So in an attempt of self-love (and to be brave and proud of my creations), here is a poem I wrote a couple months ago for an assignment. Those of you that know me know that I don't often share my poetry, but I'm thinking I should change that. I know at least one person enjoyed this poem, so who knows? maybe others will too.

Jump Ship

Last night, you

climbed over the railing, you

struck the water like an anchor, but you

sunk faster, pulled down into the abyss, you

trailed sheer fabric, a glittering fish drowning, you

waited until the moment when I couldn’t reach, you

twisted in the water, all grace and sorrow, you

down, down, below, you

breathed darkness

Return From the Dead

I don't quite know what happened to this blog the past year. No wait, I do know. School happened. But now that I've survived my first year at SF State, I can breathe a little and go back to the things that I love doing (e.g. writing this blog).

I've learned a lot this past year, about writing and about myself. I learned that I can still complete papers even after complete meltdowns. I learned how to manage my anxiety when I feel myself shutting down. I learned how to call myself a writer with confidence. I've also learned about my intense love for well crafted short stories. It's been a good, albeit difficult, year.

As much as I planned to be lazy this summer, I can't help but be a little productive. So last week I started a writer's group at the shop. It seems to be going well so far. I'm excited about bringing together a community for local writers and learning from them. 

I find it strange how I keep putting myself in positions of leadership, since I still have a hard time being outgoing and social. I guess it's not that surprising since I'm getting more and more involved at Comics FTW. I'm proud of myself for doing it anyway, but I really need to make sure I take days to recover.Who knows? Maybe I will get used to it after a while, maybe my social anxiety will wane.

I'm hoping that the writing group will keep me motivated to update regularly. I gave them permission to yell at me if I hadn't posted by next moth, but my real goal is to get back to weekly. I just need to remember how to collect stories and anecdotes like I used to, as well as document my adventures, even the small ones.

So look for new adventures!

Portfolio Part 1

It's July, which means it's time for another crazy month of writing. This time I will be working on my graphic novel script, Delirium. It also means I will be more scatter-brained and busy, so I won't have any long winded blog posts. Sorry guys. 

Instead, here is half of my photography portfolio since I've been promising it for weeks now. These landscapes were paired with a series of self portraits, some of which I have already posted. I know that both landscapes and self portraits can be rather boring, but I'd like to think I took a more interesting approach. 

I got really good feedback on these, so hopefully you all enjoy them as well. 

Wish me luck on writing a script! I'm about 600 words into it so far. It's not the best, but it's a start~

Practice makes perfect, right?

I'm learning that I can't make everyone happy. Not only is it impossible, but it is not my job. That is not to say that I am giving up on being kind, I'm just realizing I can't keep sacrificing my happiness for the sake of others. It is so easy to fall into a routine of selfless acts that I don't even notice that it is making me miserable. Why should I go out of my way for people who hardly return the favor? I shouldn't.

I've never minded helping people. In fact, it makes me feel awesome, but in order to help people that I love, I really need to take care of myself as well. Self care shouldn't feel selfish to me.

So as I spend the rest of the summer recharging before I transfer to SF State (!!!), I'm working on learning how to be a little more kind to myself.

I should also write more (yes, I know, I always say that) and finish my painting.

It has just been sitting on my desk. 

Oh man, the more I look at it the more disproportionate it seems. 

The crazy thing about this summer is how busy I've been. I think this is the first day I sat around in my pajamas and did nothing. It is glorious. I need to do this more often. Now that I only have two random jobs instead of three, I anticipate having slightly more free time. 

Some time this week I will upload my photography portfolio. I know I'm super behind on that. In the meantime the photos above are the infamous hair cutting sequence. I wish I would've gotten a hold on a dagger or something, but they came out well. 

And because I haven't posted in two months, here is a bonus photo of Lily:

This girl is so photogenic. 

Fat Unicorns and Other Discoveries

So I've fallen in love with fat unicorns. For a couple weeks, it was been my only contribution to Art Night at the shop. I'm not sure how or why it happened, but it seems to be helping my mood. Somehow.

Or maybe Art Night is helping. Every Wednesday an assortment of artists hangout, drink beer and doodle on a giant sheet of paper. A couple weeks ago the power went out about an hour into our session. Without skipping a beat we all pulled out flashlights and cell phones to light up our area. It was amazing (and also the reason the picture above is so dark).

Sometimes I draw things and someone else colors it or vice-versa. I'm not even sure what the spooky monster on the left was originally supposed to be, but I went crazy with oil pastels.

I think that sometimes I get so caught up in my head that I don't realize things aren't as bad as they seem. Everyday activities were becoming unbearable and overwhelming. There were days that I had to talk myself into getting out of bed. I know that everyone goes through this at some point. Thankfully, mine seems to be over. 

And I am so thankful that I have the shop to keep me busy on days that I feel useless. No matter how terrible my mood is, I always manage to pull myself together when I'm there. Honestly, hanging out and working at Comics FTW has pretty much helped me change my life into something I could live with after "the breakup". Not to mention it helped me make new friends. 

Friends that take me to awesome antique shops. 

(I really wanted that horse)

So I guess life just works out sometimes. You just have to be patient and wait out the crappy parts~

Oh! I almost forgot. My munchkin turned two this week! 

And she just keeps getting more awesome every day.

Overwhelmed with Life

This photo sums up my mood. 

I wish I could say that I have been feeling less overwhelmed lately. Or that I've been putting more effort into my photography. Or that I love my painting class. Alas, I cannot. 

I don't know what it is about the month before Spring that weighs me down. February has always been my least favorite month. Maybe it's because of Valentine's Day and all the fake sugary ideas of romance. Maybe it brings up old memories that wash me out. It's difficult to pin the cause.

It seems as though this crummy mood has bled into March. You know you're having a hard time keeping it together when your professor patiently listens to you explain that you won't have the assignment completed in time and she pats your arm, while saying, "Don't worry about it". Yeah, I must look like a mess.

However, I think that when I do complete my portrait assignment, it is going to be awesome. Hopefully.

But there are good things on the horizon.

The ever lovely Blair has been working on character sketches for our graphic novel Delirium.

Mischievous Doran.  

Which means, that I really need to get that script together. 

Honestly, I think I just need to make a schedule for myself. Right now my work hours are all over the place, so it's difficult to keep on top of things. Things like homework and writing. I haven't even been able to find time to read for pleasure. 

Starting next week I'll be working Saturdays at the shop, so maybe that will help me manage my time better. Not that I have been completely wasting my time. 

I've been doing cool stuff like this...

So maybe I just need to throw myself into these creative projects that surround me and ignore all the other crap that is going on. Creation always brightens me up.

The Power of Books

For the past few months, I've been having a really difficult time doing the things that I normally love. Writing. Reading. Sitting in my room and doodling. I've just been in this weird mindset where my room is less of a sanctuary and more of a cage. Which is a pity, since I spent a month remodeling and painting it.

I really need to get back into writing though. It's getting bad. The only thing I managed to produce this week was a refrigerator poem with my zombie word magnets.

I'm not even going to tell you how long this took. 

This was a strange and slow week. I had only one day of class due to the holiday. I slept about ten hours a night on average as if my body was recovering from some sort of trauma, yet things seem to be fairly mellow. I needed it though, I think. It allowed me to gather my thoughts and emotions.

It also allowed me to read Paper Towns by John Green in one sitting. I really just picked it up on a whim, but was quickly lost in the story. Before I knew it, I had parked my little tush on the couch, only getting up to refuel or pee. It's as if my desire to read had been trapped inside me and burst out all at once, causing me to fixate on this beautifully poignant novel.

Paper Towns is all about learning to see people as they really are rather than projecting our own images or ideas onto them.  And there is this epiphany towards the end where the main character realizes this and it is so profound and moving.

We live in a world where perfection is expected; when really, we're all just people who make mistakes and fall down sometimes. No one is just an idea or a great adventure or some precious object.  We're people and we change. We adapt. We do things that are expected and sometimes unexpected. 

The thing is, I've been feeling a little...intangible lately. I don't really know how to describe it other than it feels like people are seeing versions of me that aren't real. They see what they want to see.

But I am flesh and blood and bone and claws. I am not an idea. And for the first time in my life, I just want to figure out what kind of person I am. I want to see what I'm capable of. The last thing I want to do is fit inside someone's idea of what I should be.

So, I guess I was drawn into Paper Towns because it was exactly what I needed to read.

Books are magical that way.

Introspection and Rain

Rainy Sunday mornings are for laying around in cozy clothes and watching movies.

So today I stayed in bed listening to the rain until I couldn't fight my craving of coffee any longer and lazily spent the rest of the morning reading Post Secret and drinking from my dinosaur mug. Around noon I decided to finally watch The Fall, which seemed like the perfect rainy day movie.

Everything about this movie was beautifully heartbreaking. The story is set in a 1920's Los Angeles hospital, where a wounded actor befriends a little Romanian girl with a broken arm. To pass the time he tells her a fantastical story about a bandit, which we see filtered though her imagination. It's saturated with color and shot in breathtaking locations all over the world. 

I highly recommend everyone watch this film. 

Art classes update: 

I completed my self portrait assignment on time and got some positive remarks from the professor. 

A girl in my class commented that I looked sad in the photo, but it was meant to be a quiet moment of reflection. I wanted it to say something about who I am rather than just be a photo of me. My professor differentiated between the two and noticed how my body is a diagonal force against vertical and horizontal background. That wasn't even on purpose.

I also finally completed my still life painting. Well, we are moving on to the next project, so it's done unless I decide to work on it at home. I kind of don't want to look at it anymore though. 

Here it is after about twelve hours of work:

I should've picked a different brown.

It might just be the rain, but I've been feeling a little down this past week. There really wasn't anything that happened, in truth it was a pretty good week. There was absolutely nothing to complain about. Maybe I'm just getting sick or something. It would probably help if I stopped reading poems and watching movies about broken hearts though. 

I really don't need to be reminded of mine. 

Improvements

I am pleased to say that this week was considerably less terrible than the previous one. I managed to finish all my prints for photography AND develop my first role of film. I didn't even get panicky in the pitch black closet. I was so proud of myself.

Also, my first week at the comic shop happened to coincide with the release of Saga #18, which means it is the end of the current story arc (and Volume 3 will be out soon!)

Oh man, it was so good.

Seriously, you need to read them all.

And I went to the movies! So the Roxy movie theater has this Cult Series, which is a double feature of old cult films. I'm ashamed to say that I'd never been to one previous to last Thursday. It's only $10 to see two movies! Granted, yes they are old movies that I can download and watch in the comfort of my home (preferably in pajamas), but still it's cheap entertainment.

Last Thursday was the end of Month of the Bloodsucker and after getting invited out by a friend, I really couldn't refuse. I mean, who doesn't love the Lost Boys? As a bonus, I was getting to see an 80's vampire movie that I managed to miss completely.

Everyone (who loves vampires/the 80's) needs to see Near Dark. It is a ridiculous Cowboy-Vampire mash up complete with showdown at the end. Not to mention Bill Paxton being a total psychopath. Watch it for gratuitous blood, explosions and barely believable science.

This month they are having a double feature with the Rocky Horror Picture Show and the Phantom of Paradise. I'll definitely be going to that one.


In other news, my still-life panting is coming along nicely. I spent another couple hours on it, so now it looks like this:

Next week I will have more color, promise.

That pretty much wraps up my week. Not a bad ending to the first month of the year. I think I'm getting a little better at making this a weekly habit (or at least dreading it less).

Now if only I can motivate myself to work on any of the various stories I have hiding in my computer files...