Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Random Works in progress....
I have been working on a little bit of everything.... and here is some of it...
I knit a scarf for my Mom for Christmas and my sister put in an order for hers. Her birthday is two weeks before mine so that wont be an issue
Knit, Purl, Knit....
The patterns are from my new knitting book.
I keep working on my pen and ink and getting disinterested. I really enjoy this picture but for some reason I want to do a portrait in charcoal.
It is turning out quite well despite the fact I am moving so slowly..
Hooray for cross hatching and pointalism... and stupidly expensive pens....
Front of my wig. Its super fun yet entirely tedious to make.
Thousands of larks head knots...
There is hair in the back but not much....
I don't have the resources to finish my wig the way I want to at the moment, I need to get to the hair store.
I think i might wear it tonight under that hat...
I knit a scarf for my Mom for Christmas and my sister put in an order for hers. Her birthday is two weeks before mine so that wont be an issueKnit, Purl, Knit....
The patterns are from my new knitting book.
It is turning out quite well despite the fact I am moving so slowly..
Hooray for cross hatching and pointalism... and stupidly expensive pens....
Front of my wig. Its super fun yet entirely tedious to make.
Thousands of larks head knots...
There is hair in the back but not much....
I don't have the resources to finish my wig the way I want to at the moment, I need to get to the hair store.
I think i might wear it tonight under that hat...
Then there is me... I felt like a work in progress put on hiatus for quite a while. The hiatus has been lifted and my wanderlust restored. Ive lost around 8 pounds mostly from being sick. Ive kept it off because Ive changing my eating habits bit by bit. I will not starve myself, been there. I also plan to call my enrollment advisor about my psych degree today... Here i go.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Weirdo
I wonder when was it that I became a weird child? Is it ingrained in my DNA? Was it developed after i had a very hard 13th year of life? Was it all in all inevitable?
I was an odd child I suppose. As soon as i could sit up on my own I began to stare off into space or stare 'through' people. It doesn't help that i have a creative bunch of family members who were always around. Artists, quilters, knitters, woodworkers, and just about anything else. A creative home usually does lead children to live creative lives. I loved living in a creative home.
I instantly excelled at art in school. I remember my art teacher saying "I don't understand how you make your charcoal drawing so soft and light She was impressed." She wasn't very impressive an artist. She had students that surpassed her talents well before college. Still it was nice to hear a professional admire my raw talent (if thats what you'd call it). I will admit that I am an amateur artist with professional tools. It is a hobby. I am surrounded by professional or near professional artists. Yet still i am in a creative world full of weird people.
I tried for a few years to emulate a girl that had moved to delta in 7th grade. All the boys liked her, she was easy. I couldn't bring myself to be like that. Which led to a group of our guy friends betting to see who could bed me first. Me beings the weirdo i am, was completely aware of the bet. I made a deal with my Ex-boyfriend who was still a great friend. The deal was that he could pretend to win the bet and we would split the money. I didn't care about the money, I had a job. I wanted the four additional horn dogs to leave me alone. ...I suppose she did teach me to manipulate stupid boys. I guess i made that creative in my own right. I was bored.
Finally I hooked up with my current friends. All weirdos and that goes without saying.
Ive always made clothes, bags, quilts and drawings. Recently, along with my friends, I started making costumes. Then I began making dreads. Where that intuitive leap came from I don't know. From there lead to wigs, masks, and beyond. They say creativity leads to schizophrenia, i feel like it sometimes.
Why in the hell am i making a wig?
I dont know, because i want to. Oh ok.
Maybe my love of the craft made me a weird child. 6th or 7th grade Jonathan and I would spend hours on the phone talking about it. I remember him burning herbs on one end of the line and I was on the other playing with candle magic the first conversation we had alone. That next day I printed off 75 pages about magic. I was a bit over zealous. I cannot help but feel things like that were destined to happen. Ive been awake ever since and we have always had an odd connection.
Writing this book has made me return to an introspective state. Every author tends to reveal more about themselves and their experiences more than anything else. I am putting my heart and soul into this story. I never had any intention of publishing it. I just wanted to write a novel. I suppose if it fairs well among my friends ill consider it.
Weirdo signing off.....
Sociopath - an anti social personality that can be characterized by pathological lying, Lack of Remorse, Shame or Guilt, Shallow Emotions, a Glibness/Superficial Charm, a Grandiose Sense of Self and paranoid delusions etc...
I was an odd child I suppose. As soon as i could sit up on my own I began to stare off into space or stare 'through' people. It doesn't help that i have a creative bunch of family members who were always around. Artists, quilters, knitters, woodworkers, and just about anything else. A creative home usually does lead children to live creative lives. I loved living in a creative home.
I instantly excelled at art in school. I remember my art teacher saying "I don't understand how you make your charcoal drawing so soft and light She was impressed." She wasn't very impressive an artist. She had students that surpassed her talents well before college. Still it was nice to hear a professional admire my raw talent (if thats what you'd call it). I will admit that I am an amateur artist with professional tools. It is a hobby. I am surrounded by professional or near professional artists. Yet still i am in a creative world full of weird people.
I tried for a few years to emulate a girl that had moved to delta in 7th grade. All the boys liked her, she was easy. I couldn't bring myself to be like that. Which led to a group of our guy friends betting to see who could bed me first. Me beings the weirdo i am, was completely aware of the bet. I made a deal with my Ex-boyfriend who was still a great friend. The deal was that he could pretend to win the bet and we would split the money. I didn't care about the money, I had a job. I wanted the four additional horn dogs to leave me alone. ...I suppose she did teach me to manipulate stupid boys. I guess i made that creative in my own right. I was bored.
Finally I hooked up with my current friends. All weirdos and that goes without saying.
Ive always made clothes, bags, quilts and drawings. Recently, along with my friends, I started making costumes. Then I began making dreads. Where that intuitive leap came from I don't know. From there lead to wigs, masks, and beyond. They say creativity leads to schizophrenia, i feel like it sometimes.
Why in the hell am i making a wig?
I dont know, because i want to. Oh ok.
Maybe my love of the craft made me a weird child. 6th or 7th grade Jonathan and I would spend hours on the phone talking about it. I remember him burning herbs on one end of the line and I was on the other playing with candle magic the first conversation we had alone. That next day I printed off 75 pages about magic. I was a bit over zealous. I cannot help but feel things like that were destined to happen. Ive been awake ever since and we have always had an odd connection.
Writing this book has made me return to an introspective state. Every author tends to reveal more about themselves and their experiences more than anything else. I am putting my heart and soul into this story. I never had any intention of publishing it. I just wanted to write a novel. I suppose if it fairs well among my friends ill consider it.
Weirdo signing off.....
Sociopath - an anti social personality that can be characterized by pathological lying, Lack of Remorse, Shame or Guilt, Shallow Emotions, a Glibness/Superficial Charm, a Grandiose Sense of Self and paranoid delusions etc...
Sunday, January 2, 2011
WIP
Its a little rough yet Testing out my new sketchbook that i got for Christmas. Using a .05 micron. The nose piece isn't gonna be that design. Changed my mind.
Book RE write....
Since about 2007 Ive been toying with a book idea. Loads of ideas have entered my imagination since then, some of merit and others were, well, just bad ideas. This one never left me
Originally the book was merely a tool for me to help blow off some steam. Stress, at that time, was my life. I had friends I cared for who didn't care much for me and I ignored the friends who mean everything to me today. Above everything else a dear friend had betrayed my trust and the events that surrounded the situation were... less than wonderful. The book sparked from that very instance. I was livid. I was vicious and Uncaring. Not one reasonable soul questioned my anger, It was justified. Writing always helped me feel some sort of control even if only for a brief time.
The two main characters [Fawn and Eddie] were based on the personalities and exaggerated character flaws of the above mentioned 'friends'. Then of course I had cast my real friends and myself all in supporting roles with no flaws what so ever. We were are very idealized super human deductive types who managed to collaborate and save the day. Which was a terrible story all in itself. I never got past three chapters because it was all out of ill conceived anger. The basis for the story, though, is quite good.
Now my anger has been subsided for years and I care not about the mistakes of myself or others. With out the miasmal drama surrounding the characters the story has begun to flow freely.
Ive had hours of back and forth with my husband about plot detail character profiles and historical significance. Its been amazingly simple and fun.
Fawn grew out of spiteful anger. I had her personality concocted of stupidity, insanity, anger, and a touch of delusion. Now that influence has long since left me. She has since evolved into a beautiful manipulative force that actually makes sense as a main character in the role she is cast. Some of her original character flaws still remain in tact, but now they fit within in her set of characteristics. Her name is going to change too... I am just not to caught up on that name anymore.
Eddie has changed beautifully too, everything about him has changed. He had been a painfully stereotypical charming rebel sense about him in the beginning. Ive been working on his background for the past few hours with Rob. Of course i had to place one of my characters origins in Georgia, He is becoming real to me.
I have muttled out the lead in to a memory of fawns who is named Anna in this part.... i dont like the name fawn anymore... here it is
Originally the book was merely a tool for me to help blow off some steam. Stress, at that time, was my life. I had friends I cared for who didn't care much for me and I ignored the friends who mean everything to me today. Above everything else a dear friend had betrayed my trust and the events that surrounded the situation were... less than wonderful. The book sparked from that very instance. I was livid. I was vicious and Uncaring. Not one reasonable soul questioned my anger, It was justified. Writing always helped me feel some sort of control even if only for a brief time.
The two main characters [Fawn and Eddie] were based on the personalities and exaggerated character flaws of the above mentioned 'friends'. Then of course I had cast my real friends and myself all in supporting roles with no flaws what so ever. We were are very idealized super human deductive types who managed to collaborate and save the day. Which was a terrible story all in itself. I never got past three chapters because it was all out of ill conceived anger. The basis for the story, though, is quite good.
Now my anger has been subsided for years and I care not about the mistakes of myself or others. With out the miasmal drama surrounding the characters the story has begun to flow freely.
Ive had hours of back and forth with my husband about plot detail character profiles and historical significance. Its been amazingly simple and fun.
Fawn grew out of spiteful anger. I had her personality concocted of stupidity, insanity, anger, and a touch of delusion. Now that influence has long since left me. She has since evolved into a beautiful manipulative force that actually makes sense as a main character in the role she is cast. Some of her original character flaws still remain in tact, but now they fit within in her set of characteristics. Her name is going to change too... I am just not to caught up on that name anymore.
Eddie has changed beautifully too, everything about him has changed. He had been a painfully stereotypical charming rebel sense about him in the beginning. Ive been working on his background for the past few hours with Rob. Of course i had to place one of my characters origins in Georgia, He is becoming real to me.
I have muttled out the lead in to a memory of fawns who is named Anna in this part.... i dont like the name fawn anymore... here it is
Music poured out of the bar into the night air. Familiar guitar riffs and popular lyrics rang out from unfamiliar voices and patrons could be seen dancing wildly and uninhibited from the back entrance.
A curious looking couple sat perched on the open tail gate of an old ford truck in the parking lot. He sat staring through the bar’s open door with an undefined reverence. She appeared to be elsewhere in thought, eyes closed, letting the music take her away.
“I’m sorry the new door man wouldn’t let you in. Im sure when the band comes out they’ll vouch for you” His face turned towards her in the light showing his striking blue eyes.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not the first time this has happened. This place goes through door men like you wouldn’t believe. I like it out here anyway. Less idiots.” A smirk traveled across her face. “Di you know That band used to be a classic rock tribute band? It would have been incredibly lame if I wasn’t for Alan. He made the songs his own. He is the only reason I came.”
Another light on the building clicked on revealing more of the gravel lot. It also allowed Ian to inspect his companion more closely. Her green eyes seemed to gleam against the olive tone of her skin. Ian had always wondered if Black had been her natural hair color or an attempt to carry on an exotic mystique. Either way it suited her well as her hair fell at the shoulders with a slight curl. She was tiny, barely over five feet he guessed. A chuckle escaped Ians lips as he watched her legs dangle off the tailgate.
“What are you laughing at?” Her voice held a demanding tone.
“It’s nothing, really.” He searched for change of subject that didn’t involve her height. “When was it? I mean when were they a tribute band? I don’t remember that.”
“Two, maybe three, years ago and I couldn’t stand it. Alan was always so talented it seemed like a waste of his time. I used to come every Thursday night with Eddie.” She stopped abruptly, it had been a while since she had uttered that name to another human being.
“Eddie? Have I met him?” The confusion in Ian’s tone was understandable. They hung out with a tight knit group. It was odd for a part of that group to go unmentioned.
“No.”
“Oh.” The abrupt answer held a thick band of awkward silence. Ian couldn’t stand silence. “ Were you two close or…?” He trailed off thinking the question was open ended enough to get her talking again. She stayed silent. She didn’t even look in his direction. “Anna, are you ok?”
“He died.” A soft quiver surrounded her voice. “ He died before I met you. I haven’t talked about him in ages. In fact I haven’t even spoken his name out loud in nearly a year. Without him, I wouldn’t be who I am today. I was an entirely different person then. I was…” The girl stopped abruptly again as if her voice had escaped her body.
“ Wow. What happened to him?” Ian realized after saying this that it might not be the best question to ask. In fact it was probably the worst. He shook his head at his own stupidity. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. My mouth just works faster than my brain sometimes.”
Anna didn’t even hear her companion.“We sat here, just like this, every Thursday. Back then It was all classic rock cover songs so we never really listened to the band. Sometimes we would come with a big group of people and other times it would just be Allan, Eddie, and I. It was our routine. We were inseparable”. The smile returned to her face.
Ian sat quietly, waiting for her to say something else. It was near painful to resist breaking the silence.
“You would have liked him” She still didn’t look in Ian’s direction.
“Oh?”
“He was something else. Eddie loved to make people laugh, laugh until they hurt. He was my best friend. I loved him. He shouldn’t have died that way.” Shaking, Anna locked her gaze at Ian. “I saw him die. I felt his spirit leave.”
“Tell me what happened.” The familiar silence fell again” Anna you can’t keep something like that inside. Tell me What happened.”
Slowly she moved her gaze back towards the bar. Music still poured out into the parking lot but now it was jumbled and unrecognizable. It was still early in the evening. Ian was right. The last thing Anna needed was more secrets.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Blessed New year...
I had every intention of writing the new opening to my book here. I plotted it all out on my head. It is honestly a lot better than the last one I wrote down. I had struggled with how to introduce my character in my own way while trying to resist a great deal of influence from the books Ive been reading. Influence in inevitable, I understand, but Id like to stay away from "Copy Cat" status. I know, personally, how irritating that can be to the original.
Needless to say, rambling aside, my intentions for this space have changed.
It is raining. It is collecting on my kitchen window. The rain is greeting me. It is collecting in the yard and cleansing my patch of land. Beautiful. I cannot see a patch of snow anywhere. The rain has chased it all away. It feels like the universe is saying "This year is all for you, child. Use it wisely."
Can you feel the wonderful energy in the earth today? A new year, child. Just for you.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not that conceited. This beautiful new year is shared by friends and enemies alike. I can handle that fact. I feel like karma will be my best friend this year. After all thoughts create reality.
If it rains on my birthday, then I will be the happiest girl in Ohio (which I imagine is not too hard to accomplish).
However if it so happens that buckets of snow cover the ground that day, I will be ok. I will also be grand master of a giant snowball fight. That might help the snow situation.
Now it is time to feel the rain on my skin.
Needless to say, rambling aside, my intentions for this space have changed.
It is raining. It is collecting on my kitchen window. The rain is greeting me. It is collecting in the yard and cleansing my patch of land. Beautiful. I cannot see a patch of snow anywhere. The rain has chased it all away. It feels like the universe is saying "This year is all for you, child. Use it wisely."
Can you feel the wonderful energy in the earth today? A new year, child. Just for you.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not that conceited. This beautiful new year is shared by friends and enemies alike. I can handle that fact. I feel like karma will be my best friend this year. After all thoughts create reality.
If it rains on my birthday, then I will be the happiest girl in Ohio (which I imagine is not too hard to accomplish).
However if it so happens that buckets of snow cover the ground that day, I will be ok. I will also be grand master of a giant snowball fight. That might help the snow situation.
Now it is time to feel the rain on my skin.
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