27 things (365 days, holidays, a new year, etc)

Oh by the way,  I had the pleasure of writing up a little bit for the 27 Good Things blog, here's my contribution (three things to read, three things to watch, three things to use.) If you are ever, ever sitting around wondering what to do with yourself, GO PERUSE THAT BLOG. It's a wealth of really cool, entertaining, and useful ideas of just really great stuff (plus, some of my dear friends Andrew Romine, Wendy N. Wagner, and Paul Weimer have also contributed and they are the coolest folk ever, put their suggestions on your list for next year and all will be well with you. I promise.)

Ah, and it's last day of 2013. There's some impulse in me to encapsulate the year neatly (one year it was 365 days of drawing) but then this morning I woke up and read my friend Gerry's post about trees breathing and now I just want to go for a hike and find beautiful trees.

tree, on top of mt lemmon

However, here, a few personal highlights from 2013 (in no real order): I have run almost 900 miles this year, including a marathon with my partner and friend. One of my illustrations was accepted into the Spectrum 20 art annual. I won the Hugo in the Fan Artist category. I've made huge strides in getting a handle on record keeping and budgeting as a freelancer. As a family we have gotten a much better handle on record keeping and budgeting. In fact, for the first time in, well, quite a long time, December, usually our leanest and most difficult months, has been kind and gentle and we still have a savings.  My kid turned 10. I turned 39. A few relationships that were on the brink have made strides towards healing. I read not as many books as I was hoping, nor did I finish any personal art projects this year (2013 was the year of the client, and that has been just fine by me.) I'll keep those on the to-do list for 2014.

There's more, I'm sure, but I'll leave it at that for now, I have a few illustrations I was hoping to have finished by year's end so, yes, ducking out now to get to work.

But here, I stumbled on this by Tim Minchin yesterday and it was just what I needed. (I've struggled to like the holidays lately, this helped. Quite a bit. And all proceeds from downloads of this song for the next two months are currently being donated to the National Autism Society. Very Worthy.):



Okay, that's all. See you next year.

wierd is okay.

Read an interesting article the other day.

I learned a few helpful labels; ie my preference for solitary activities and for work over play may be tied to Social Anhedonia. My difficulty with close relationships and intimacy, as well as my odd social quirks could be linked to a Schizotypal personality. My distress at the inability to successfully filter out the pervasive stream of information (and my ways of coping with it) could be a touch of Cognitive disinhibition.

It's nice that "weird" is being more appreciated lately (the market value of out-of-the-box thinking helping to facilitate positive social change in work-place environments), but I'm haunted by the fact that I'm merely missing the higher IQ and a greater working memory required to pull all the odd edges together into actual viable creative power. (Heh, that itch just never seems to go away for me, even after an artistically busy and successful year.)

********
Random wrap-up stuffs;
I have been enjoying Bones quite a bit (yes I know, I am a bit late to jump on that bandwagon). Particularly, I love actress Emily Deschanel's portrayal of dr Temperance Brennan with a social awkwardness that boarders on Asbergers Syndrome. Then, from the more tortured end of the genius spectrum, I finally got around to watching Sylvia. Personally, I wanted more from the movie, particularly, I wanted more of Sylvia's words. So here, November Graveyard, performed by Plath herself:

The scene stands stubborn: skinflint trees
Hoard last year's leaves, won't mourn, wear sackcloth, or turn
To elegiac dryads, and dour grass
Guards the hard-hearted emerald of its grassiness
However the grandiloquent mind may scorn
Such poverty. No dead men's cries

Flower forget-me-nots between the stones
Paving this grave ground. Here's honest rot
To unpick the heart, pare bone
Free of the fictive vein. When one stark skeleton
Bulks real, all saint's tongues fall quiet:
Flies watch no reserrections in the sun.

At the essential landscape stare, stare
Till your eyes foist a vision dazzling on the wind:
Whatever lost ghosts flare
Damned, howling in their shrouds across the moor
Rave on the leash of the starving mind
Which peoples the bare room, the blank, untenanted air.
~sylvia plath

In Defense of Humbug. (and...THE HOBBIT!!!)

This. Yes, this. I need a little validation, now and again for the fact that December in general (and Christmas specifically) is a no fun time of year for me.



This next bit is something Malanie posted to her FB page, however she had merely stolen it from someone else who I do not know. But it's brilliant so here you go:

Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender-neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday practiced with the most enjoyable traditions of religious persuasion or secular practices of your choice with respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all.

I also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2012, but not without due respect for the calendar of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make our country great (not to imply that the USA is necessarily greater nor lesser than any other country) and without regard to the race, creed, colour, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee.

By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms :

This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for her/him or others and is void where prohibited by law, and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. The wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year or until the issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher.

Best Regards (without prejudice)

Name withheld (Privacy Act)

Meanwhile, on a totally different subject (but helping me feel happy)... GUESS WHAT WAS JUST RELEASED!? First Trailer for The Hobbit (coming Dec '12)

My son: just like me.

My off spring and I, we share a few quirks, a few choice personality traits. I have noticed this makes us occasionally volatile (?) together? Only every now and then. But enough.

The other morning was... 'difficult'. We had pressed each other's buttons. An emotional meltdown was in full swing and I only had a few moments before we were supposed to be in the car going to school.

So I sat him in a chair, gave him a notebook and pen, and said; "Make marks. Whatever marks you want to make." He immediately calmed down, and threw his full focus into the pen and paper. He made marks on the paper, and was ready to get in the car and go to school after a few minutes.

Of course, he made some fairly pointed marks:

But it worked. Meltdown averted. Balance regained. Ability to move on with life attained.

How did I know to put a pen and paper in his hands?
Because it is what works for me when I am on the verge of a meltdown.
I figured, it would work for my son too.

(For you entertainment, a glimpse at some recently marked pages of my own:)

hard working animal

I got paid an exceptional complement the other day. Someone said they were impressed with my work ethic, and that I was an animal.

The individual paying the complement went on to ponder exactly what sort of work ethic an animal hath...

As the owner of an Australian Shepherd... I know a bit about working animals.
Psycho dog is not happy unless she has some job to throw her heart and soul and energies into. Even if that job is just catching a frisbee out of the air again and again and again and again. (Though, she'd be much happier with a herd of sheep, or something.)

The thing about psycho dog... she doesn't know how to just hang out with others. At the park, when other dogs come up to say "hi, wanna play" she has no idea what to do with them and prefers to throw herself into her 'job' (ie, catching said frisbee out of the air again and again and again and again.)

Anyhow, it just got me thinking, because I have not been a very good friend lately. That impressive work ethic, me throwing myself into a quick succession of deadlines, etc... There are times when I wonder that I do that as avoidance. As coping mechanism to survive the difficulties of human interaction.

Pay this no mind. This is just post-midnight ramblings from a brain that is refusing to wind down for the day.

Anyhow... Random, but I have now cut several throats in a recent project. For your entertainment, a glimpse at the bloodshed:

why I'm not around much right now

I'm not dead! I swear.

Though I have had a few near misses this past month.

see... I had to battle a mecha-octopod in a japanese bathhouse:
Finally was able to blow the darn thing to pieces.
THEN... I had to wade my way though a hoard of zombies in an abandoned temple:

Finally got them put to rest.
THEN... I had a traitor's throat that needed cutting:

I'm still working on that one, but almost there. Very lucky to have such a good comrade-in-arms helping me through all of this slayage.

Anyhow, aside from that mess I have also put a few new Art Nerd posts up at the Functional Nerds, wrote a post for SF Signal, was able to finagle my schedule to make it to World Con, where, incidentally... I was inducted as the newest member of the InkPunks!!!! (Hard at work on my first post there.)

So, you see, I'm not dead...yet!

365 days.

[also posted at The Exponent]

365 days ago, I started a project where I did a drawing every day.

It is startling to look back and see how much just that little project has changed me over the course of this handful of days. I am a much more experienced artist now than I was 365 days ago.

Also this year I think I have put more miles on my legs than any other year of my life since high school.

These are just two little accomplishments that help me to gauge what I have done this year. I guess, being able to put a number to it helps me see the progress easier.

Even when there isn't an easy number one can use to assess progress, it is happening anyways. I've learned and grown in many ways this year, in areas where numerical statistics don't really apply.

What I am really trying to say here is that Time happens. Days pass.
What things sort of things did you do these past 365 days? What do you have planned for the next 365?

if given the time.....

DH and offspring have gone on a road-trip to visit family. I, however, have several little obligations scattered through the week plus an art deadline fast-approaching so I opted to stay here at home. Alone. For almost the whole week.

This is my chance, my opportunity to see just how productive I can be when I have the house to myself for a duration of more than just a few hours. (Especially as I have no car and will be mostly home-bound except for what I can do on my bike. )

for starters:
~Art deadline: I have some serious work to do to get a comic submission finalized by the end of this week. Plus I gotta tighten up our Monsters and Mormons comic (that was just accepted!) AND I have inSitu illustrations to get to work on and 20spec illustrations to prep for. Etc. Plenty to keep my hands busy with.

~This week I start training for my first full length marathon.

~I am curious how much of a dent I can make in the stack of books by my bedside: That stack that has grown dusty waiting for me to free up enough time to open a book and read just for leisure. Yep.

~Yah, okay, I may also see how much of a dent I can make in my Netflix queue. But I really need to watch out... I could easily get myself totally caught up in Dr Who or something and emerge on the other side, the whole week gone, and none of that other stuff to show for it. (Yes I have done that before.)

So that's my plan.
(Meanwhile, safe journeys to my loved ones <3)

#AmDrawing!!!

pushing past comfortable

Yesterday, a friend and I ran 13.1 miles.
(Which involved getting up at 3:30 am to drive to a drop point on the other side of town in order to be bused to the way-out-there start-lines, where we stood huddled in the cold and dark, clustered around heat lamps with all the other participants until it was finally time to start the race. /Whew!)

My plan/goal was just to finish. I was thinking of keeping a nice slow pace ("la-la-dee-dah") and breezing into the finish having accomplished merely running father than I previously have.

My friend, however, was in this to push hard and make a time goal.

So we found ourselves running at a nice stiff pace that I usually reserve for much shorter distances. I kept thinking we'd eventually slow down, but the miles flew past and we kept that pace like clockwork. The last two miles, pushing to the end of our limits I was SURE we'd slow down, but still we kept that pace. (It was NOT comfortable at this point.) And then finally the homestretch and a sprint to the finish, and zohMyGAWD that hurt SO MUCH!!... But we did it.

It made me realize how much I hold back, satisfied to stay in comfortable safe areas, when actually I have the capability to push farther/harder/faster. This, not just in running. In personal relationships and my professional life as well.

It's a fairly straightforward thing to pick up the running pace a bit. Not so simple to explain what that means in personal and professional aspects of my life, but it's something I am thinking about.

There is this: I would NOT have kept up that pace if I had not had my friend next to me, motivating me, encouraging me. (Thank you Katy.)

Meanwhile... My knees and my quads are ANGRY at me for keeping that less-comfortable pace. Ice packs and ibuprofen are helping.

[Here, here and here are the posts chronicling the building of my active life.]

keeping friends

I've had this reoccurring thought, a question, about how many people I keep in touch with as time passes.

The reality is I tend to move on from people.

It's frequently that as my circumstances change, so does who I hang out with. IE, empolyment, housing, school, etc.

And also...
There can be a certain appeal in moving on from those who know your flaws to those for whom you are a new and shiny mystery.

And I have a difficult time creating deep and lasting friendships.

So that reoccurring thought tickling the back of my mind, it's telling me to work harder at being a better friend.
That's all.

private ritual

This Thanksgiving, after all the eating and football and more eating (etc) our family had a bonfire. (We do that. A lot.) Once the initial 20 ft conflagration (yep, we use gasoline) had turned into a nice glow, my mother surprised us all by pulling out the Black Belt.

This belt is a heirloom from her side of the family. I don't know how many generations it goes back, but it's sole purpose was the disciplining of children. A thick leather strap, folded over on one end for better grip with sufficient length left over for the whacking of bottoms. As the oldest child I remember getting whacked quite a bit. (My folks had mellowed by the time the younger ones were getting into their trouble, not nearly so much whacking going on then.)

So my mom surprises us all, by pulling out the long unused Black Belt... and after a few words, throwing it on the fire.

This was her ritual for us, a gesture of reconciliation, of apology, asking forgiveness, and a hope for healing. It was very powerful.

I don't believe in magic, or gods, or fairies, or angels, or answers to prayers. But I DO believe in ritual. That in our animal brains, we respond to special acts done with intent.

This has been a very difficult week for me and I've been able to find some measure of comfort in my own private rituals. My primary form of worship/ritual involves making marks. It works for me.

I also believe in the ritual of sweat & strained muscles, of beating the hell out of an inanimate object, of writing things down, of creating something, of destroying something. Of Silence. Of reaching out.

What are your rituals?

holiday season ($#%* again)

oh... yep... Seriously, I had such great plans, THIS holiday season would be BETTER!! I'd have so much MORE CLARITY! Be MORE PREPARED! blah blah blah...
yah.


(Here's the blog post I wrote last year around xmas time... I never got around to reading or meditating on ANY of those great books)

It's starting a bit early this year... tiny little conflicts and burdens and me in my studio working on non-holiday-season projects while family and friends are putting together their lists of gifts and assembling recipes... (and shit!! My Son's Birthday is coming up!!! GAH!!!)

I just hate with a passion everything having to do with Black Friday, I am going to practice BUY NOTHING DAY instead... but...um... I DO need to figure out what gifts we will give to people.

Handmade gifts (from recycled materials no less) are so cool!!... But I think I'll burn out if I try to go that route. (And I'll probably miss a few deadlines too.)

/sigh...

Can I just donate to a charity for everyone and call it good?

My real problem is: I'm a creature of habit, of routine. And Holidays TOTALLY mess up my routine.

anyhow... CHEERS! {/Groan}

strong legs

My body is not put together in the most graceful fashion (according to our cultural standards). I used to spend a lot of energy in wishing I had a different shape (usually something long-limbed, willowy, etc) and occasionally I engaged in unhealthy habits trying to force my body to be different than it was.

Yesterday, I biked 109 miles. And I felt strong doing it. I'm not very fast. But there is some hardwiring down deep in my muscles for going the distance: At 50 miles, and then again at 90 miles I felt a second & third wind kick in, and I thoroughly enjoyed reeling in biker after biker on that last brutal stretch to the finish. (Here's the fb photo album w/ a few pics I took during the ride.)

Some years back, while making out with a boyfriend, he exclaimed in a moment of awe "You've got these Thunder Thighs!" He was clueless to the more negative connotation of the term, was merely trying to express admiration for my powerful legs :P (So cute. I married that boyfriend :)

Now I have exactly three weeks to transition these legs from being able to bike 109 miles, to being able to run 13.1. Then six months after that, to run 26.2. (Pretty sure this will be harder than biking the 109. We'll see.)

Anyhow, Yesterday, after the bike ride, I was fascinated by the biker's tan-line across my thighs, and tried to capture it photographically (then, discovered, after a bath, a good deal of that line was made up of dust and grime, RE: second photo).

So here you go. a few gratuitous photos of my strong legs. :P

Kicking My Butt

So... in about 7 weeks, I'm signed up to ride a 109 mile bike race. Then, a few weeks after that, I'm signed up for a half marathon. It's about time I get serious and train for these.

Currently, I can bike about 50 miles, and run about 5 (not on the same day, of course). Building up the running mileage will be harder for me than the biking mileage so I have been perusing half marathon running schedules like Hal Higdon's, Jeff Galloway's, and various Runner's World plans, but to be honest... I suck at following plans. Maybe I should address that weakness and get better at following plans...

Anyhow, I AM pretty excited about BOTH of these events (both of them pushing my limits, but not TOO much. Er, well. We'll see.)

Meanwhile, I have also been thrilled to pick up quite a bit of illustration work. Oh, and we put our house up for sale... Plenty to keep me occupied and out of trouble. (Hm.. nope, still getting into trouble)

Anyhow.. that's what's up with me lately.

Now, to figure out... do I bike or run today? hmmm.....

pain

On Tuesday I had a great idea for a Post.
High off the endorphins of an intense workout, my mind began to string together all the various discomforts we willingly inflict on ourselves and for what purposes. I was going to deftly draw lines of profound similarity between exercise, dieting, body piercing/tattooing, pursuing higher education, cosmetic surgery, and the Mormon penchant for monthly ritual caloric deprivation, to name a few.

Then Wednesday I discovered I had strained a few choice muscles in that workout. And I accidentally got a bad sunburn (sunscreen fail!) And I stayed up late several nights in a row working against a deadline (can no longer do that like I once did). And my body was starting to hate me and I was not be so excited about writing a post about pain.

Then Thursday, while stretching my arms over my head, something horribly wrong wrenched/tweeked/pinched/popped in that little area between the right shoulder blade and spine... so I currently have the range of motion of a plank of wood, with lovely rivulets of dull (and sometimes not-so-dull) pain radiating out from that shoulder-blade area.

Anyhoo... today doesn't hurt as bad as yesterday. And maybe by tomorrow, or Sunday, I'll be able to actually turn my head (Ice packs, heat pads, ibuprofen...). Maybe then I'll try to revisit that original post idea about pain.

(or, maybe not)

btw... here's a sketch I did last year when dealing with a very similar pain.

bonding over sweat

(I wrote this last year but kept it in the slush pile.. however, as I just finished my third triathlon and am participating in the weekly local aquathlon, I thought I'd go ahead and publish it.)

I think I may have found my thing, my niche, my community. Maybe. We'll see.

After visiting multiple church groups, political discussions, feminist book clubs, artist cooperatives, etc, looking for a community to fill the gap left by removing myself from heavy activity in the church, I think I finally hit pay dirt.

When attending all those aforementioned activities, I find myself sitting back, silently listening in awed and slightly intimidated shyness.


But yesterday I did a triathlon (update, this week I did my third triathlon). And I had no less than 6 lively conversations with various individuals. (A rather unusual occurrence for me.) Some were with people I had met in previous races or at the gym, some were just complete strangers and we bonded over our sweat and our aches and our tired muscles. I'll probably see some of these folk at the next race. Strike up conversations with a few more as well.

Perhaps it's because it is a community removed from the more controversial/divisive elements of politics and religion that I feel more at my ease (yep, got a lot of scar-tissue from previous involvement in politics/religion). Perhaps it's just the endorphins.

Don't get me wrong, my tendency is STILL to observe silently from the background; life of the party, I am NOT. I'm also a pretty pathetic athlete.

But still.
We'll see.

wrong turns

It has happened several times now in the past week: While driving, my mind wanders (there's a lot for it to wander around in right now). Thinking through circumstances, wondering about actions made and decisions coming up...
When suddenly...
I realize I've taken a wrong turn. I'm on a street or highway I hadn't planned on being on (and am not sure how I got there.)

******
I used to be the sort of suspicious individual who would see all sorts of signs and messages from the universe in this sort of thing.

Now a days, I just think I need to start paying more attention while I'm driving. Leave off pondering for when I am not behind the wheel.

332 days left (and trying not to be a bitch about it)

I'm on edge lately.
It started out as ambition; a challenging set of goals for this new year. Things to accomplish, things that stretch me. But I'm only on day 33 and mostly I just feel sharp and tense towards my husband and son, and distant from my friends as I try to squeeze it all in.

Perhaps I just haven't found the grove yet (the right balance, the right schedule).
Perhaps it's just a phase (even without ambitious goals I can be sharp and distant).

I keep thinking of 50's era advice to housewives
Also about that article that showed that women are more powerful but less happy than they once were.

But whatever.
I just had to write this down, get it off my mind. Don't have the energy to ponder deeply and come up with something profound.
Time to hit the books again (because for one of my goals I'm taking a few online courses in computer programing. Working through pseudocode and flowcharts right now.)

a Mormon feminst image

(posted at Feminist Mormon Housewives)

A room of my own. Because Virginia was right.
My space, where I have room (sufficient for my needs) to work, to make, to make a mess, to make art. My entire married life I have maintained this space in our various living/family situations; sometimes it has just been a corner of a room, or half a closet and part of the table, etc. In our current local, I occupy the entire thing. I have frequently felt guilt about it, conflicted about my taking up so much space (a lovely way to top off recurring feelings of artistic failure). And for a good couple of years after my son was born, it became a rather neglected room. But not lately. With my son's growing independence and starting school, I am back in my room. No time for guilt now, only have time to work, to get into it with my materials. Making a mess, Making art. Using this room of my own.

BTW, I just found this trailer for a documentary about women artists who are mothers, to me it's searing, I almost cry every time I watch it. Powerful. "Who Does She Think She Is?"

(I think that woman, in the middle of the documentary, is Mormon. Makes my heart so happy.)

killing arachnids

John doesn't kill the wolf spiders in his desk.
(Yeah, that's not what the post is about, but he does mention this fact. And it's a good post, you should read it.)

Here I must try to expunge my guilt.
I kill the spiders.
The big hairy ones.
If they stay in the garage, they are okay, I let them live.
But if they cross the threshold (well, if i see them that is)...

Just the other day it happened and the pacifist in me, the person who values life tried to reason with the arachnophobe in me: "Just catch it, let it go back in the garage"
The arachnophobe in me tried... she really did, but catching it requires getting so much closer to the big ol' quick-crawling eight-legged thing than just killing it.

After a few heart-pounding attempts to capture it in a jar, I gave in and killed it. Not in a nice way either. It took almost a minute for it to slowly writhe it's way to death after I sprayed it with Raid.

I feel horrible every time I do that.
Killing a spider. Especially when I use Raid (poisoning the very home I live in.)
Every single time I do this, I get this horrible thought in the back of my head, that his spider is actually one of my friends who has somehow been TURNED INTO a spider and has crawled their way to my home in the hopes that I can help them turn back to their human form.

(As I watched this latest one die I am thinking "oh, please don't be Mel, Please please please")

The thing is, spiders ARE our friends? Even if it wasn't Mel (she's still alive, it wasn't her), this eight legged eight-eyed thing is my friend, right? (/Cringing!) Right?
And harsh chemicals are Not our friends.
And I respect life...

so...
I'm working on it.

Anyhow, for your viewing pleasure, here's the Camel Spider (ironically, not even a spider but a solpugid, but close enough) who thought my casa could be it's casa. (And who died in a spray of nerve destroying gas.)