Two Blocks To Tango

Nothings Buts Me

2012-02-12T23:48:00.000-08:00

This is my bloggery. I'm tired of being on facebook. I've never really been a big user, but I've been using its chat tool (I know its horrible) as a download free replacement to using WoW as my IM. Somewhere I lost MSN, though no one ever uses that anyway, and I've never really got into Skype... So I sit and stare at the incredibly boring FB background glaring bright white into my face, and read about lots of people I don't really care that much about, the games they play, and the lame-o quotes, and no ones really doing anything. I'm certainly not, reading all of this. Its so terribly, obviously, unfulfilling.

Really, lots of the internet is. Sometimes, more often than I care to think about, I get on to find something. Not a something in particular, THE Something. To find and idea or news or information that will CHANGE EVERYTHING. Something that will launch me down the track of who I want to be, to a new chapter, a skip in my step toward my dreams. I haven't found it on Facebook. Not even close. I haven't found it on TasteSpotting, or Amazon. On other peoples blogs. On Photojojo or Wikipedia. Or even in my hours of Google searches. I'm constantly confronted with the evidence, that my happiness isn't to be found on the internet at all.

As I'm clicking my quick link tabs at random, looking for someplace I want to be (online), somewhere cooler than on my couch... lately I've ended up here. They'll always be something I want to buy off Amazon. There'll always be something that looks delicious that I font have the ingredients for on TasteSpotting. Theres always something to look at that I don't have right now... But on my blog... Its just me. And I'm good with that right now.

Options...

2012-02-11T22:41:00.000-08:00

I would like to take culinary classes. Like baking and pastry... or anything really. The difficulty is, I always feel a bit like Monica from that episode of friends... The one where she, as a professional chef, pretends to be a baking student to get gold stars from the teacher.

Last class I took was through Sur La Table, on pies. I learned some. It was great to actually be SHOWN how to cook something, instead of having to puzzle it out from a recipe. To be able to FEEL how the dough should clump, not just ponder "just comes together" from "overworked" from "pile of dusty clumping goo".

I wished I had been the odd man out when we took partners to make the recipe though. I didn't mind helping, I just felt a bit awkward being discovered as regular baker out of a class of people who NEVER bake. "Oh, you're really good at that!" she says as I'm rolling out the dough. Well... yeah. I've done it a lot. Why am I in a class then? Because I'm not perfect and I don't want to settle for less from myself.

Why am I in THAT class is the better question. Those classes are mostly designed for beginners. To take people who know nothing about baking... to a finished gorgeous pie. Not people who know how to make pie, to The Perfect Pie. I'd need a professional baking course for that. Something to take an amateur to a professional level. That requires more commitment than a Saturday afternoon.

Stutter Step

2012-02-09T20:48:00.000-08:00

Its amazing how hard it can be to drive across town, talk to some friendly people, and do something I love. I stall. I procrastinate. I make excuses. I fantasize situations in which I could still like myself AND avoid all social contact.

My point is, I went in to the jewelry shop yesterday. I went in today too. I can't say it was easier the second time. But I did it.

The Putter Effect

2011-06-13T17:03:00.000-07:00

I've been living somewhere between inspired and depressed. Somewhere between stagnant and going too fast. Wake up the day blossoming with opportunity and end pounding my head into a brick wall of my own making. I start bright eyed and bushy tailed ready to take on the world and by 2 I've logically removed every last puff of wind from my sails. After all, I dont really like bundt cake that much, so why make it?

Why make it, I ask? Because it makes me feel good to do something, anything. Especially if that anything is something I like. Because doing something I enjoy reaffirms who I am, why I like it, and what I want my future to look like. Because in not doing it, I loose myself. I'm lost, hence the loss of my satisfaction, happiness and motivation for the next day.

The most troubling factor, I suppose, is that I quit in the first place. I love to write, and I enjoy looking through a camera lens. Mountain biking in Thailand was an amazing experience(if excruciating, I don't have those muscles). While Tango's a bit out of reach right now, jewelry smithing isn't. Nor is painting drawing and ceramics. I enjoy this but... I fall off the wagon, succumbing to my laziness and mediocrity and loosing myself. Maybe its conditioning or stamina, maturity level and discipline....

Toda, I made, according to Tanner and with his help, a Coco Sour Cream Butt Cake with Tanner. Today I wrote, a little, hence the blog. I loaded the stupid dishwasher, as the dishes were dirtied and fresh, and cleaned up after myself in the kitchen. That'll work for now.

Third Person

2011-06-05T20:02:00.001-07:00

Taryn Hoopes is ready for big things. Taryn Hoopes is thinking big thoughts. Taryn Hoopes wants some fantastic changes to her life.

Taryn Hoopes will be an author. An author of epic proportions with a fan base that seeks my stories like an addict takes to cocaine.

Taryn Hoopes will dance, dance well, and look great on the dance floor.

Taryn Hoopes will become a musician, to spite all odds.

Taryn Hoopes is considering becoming gregarious, a bit of a flirt, and altogether charming.

Taryn Hoopes is an artist, a jewelry smith, and ready to finish what she starts.

Taryn is more organized than anyone realizes, and sometimes loves early mornings. :P

Taryn Hoopes is a deadly weapon, outdoorsman and vegetarian waiting to be realized.

Taryn Hoopes is done apologizing for being Taryn, done worrying about what she wants to wear, and almost done thinking she isn't totally freaking hot.

Taryn is ready to use her intelligence, creativity, and perfectionism to kick some ass.

And yes. Taryn just said that. She means business.

Sleep and Happiness

2011-05-25T13:44:00.001-07:00

Sleep and happiness can be important to each other from time to time. I'm watching the kids for the week, school duty. Lunches, 8am drop offs and homework. The whole nine yards. Its exhausting, just to keep basic functions on track... But the sleep I got last night then after I dropped folks off helped. I feel a bit better (less ready to go into a screaming fit when the kids aren't getting up the 100th time I've told them were going to be late). Even energetic! I even cleaned some things!

I wish I could sing. I was gifted with pretty worthless vocal cords, but maybe with some low exceptions, voice lessons, and a style like They Might Be Giants - Particle Man (think nerdy nasal twangy almost)... I maybe could sing!

The dogs are getting desperate. The Alpha's in Boise and I hardly take them anywhere... (see the keeping basic functions part). They sit and stare at me. Hoping I'll start doing tricks for them. I've fed them, they've had outside time... But they want a walk and a three mile run. And Tuna wants a dog who knows how to play with dogs and Ben, the dog, wants a perpetual fetch machine.

I need to get back to writing. If my goal is to not do a 9 to 5, and writings my mean... It has to actually happen SOMETIME. Sigh.

Intimidator

2011-04-23T02:50:00.000-07:00

I wrote nothing today. So I'm writing something quickly here. I wonder why I'm not writing something else. Or haven't written something earlier today. Was I really actually busy or just seeking distraction? Did I just not feel like sitting in tied to my computer or am I shying away from it again? Intimidated perhaps by my realization that if I do write, regularly... I could write enough for a book. If I write enough for a book, will it be enough to tell the story? Will I do the right writing? Is my story where it should be? What is my story?! Shouldn't I know that by now? Intimidated by the noose my own judgmental and worrying mind makes.

I don't think I need to know the story yet. In stories where I have the plot down, I don't think I need to know the characters perfectly. Some things you learn while you're writing. Some things just appear like the world does when you look for it. Whatever is behind you, is still behind you, even if you aren't looking at it. It keeps existing, and its there when you look. Its mysterious and strange how often things just come on there own. I'm not deciding everything in my story, some just IS. If my subconsious can do it while I sleep, generating the worlds and characters I meet in a dream while I'm moving through it... I should do at least ok awake.

I did though, order a new wireless card. The connection mine has been making to my computer has been failing for a while now. I'd have to open it up and jostle it around every few days. Now I'll have a minuscule external one. Hopefully the range will be alright. I'm terribly fatigued at desk sitting.

Ten Things About Being Tired

2011-04-21T15:16:00.000-07:00

I had to wake up reeeaaaal early yesterday. Toward the close of the day I had reaffirmed some observations about being tired, and stayed up an extra 2o minutes to find a pencil that didn't squeak on the page and an empty notebook page to jot them down.

Hot face washcloths and hot showers do not make up for lost sleep. Still tired, achey, and now lobster colored.

Caffeine does not make up for lost sleep. Just makes you queasy, strung out, and unable to take a nap.

Moderate amounts of caffeine paired with less moderate quantities of Advil do somewhat better.

Advil wont prevent you from bursting into tears when you see pansies at Home Depot and think of Pansy.

I talk... waaaaay too much when I'm tired. I'm sorry mom, if your ears bled from my constant long winded drivel.

When tired, I sometimes tend to shake when I watch movies or have engaging conversations. I must have been a chihuahua in my past life.

Regardless of the perfect chance to reset my sleep schedule and go to bed early, I wont.

I write more and arguably better when its late. (See the talking excessively, there may be a correlation).

I think I have a problem. A sick addiction to excessively late nights. I can't help myself.

I'm tired.

Sad to say I went to bed at almost 3am... having woken up at 8am that morning, having gone to bed at 3 the day before, down from 5am. Since I've been writing, after getting of WoW, its become a bit of an issue.

Something About Vaugeness

2011-04-19T00:18:00.000-07:00

My favorite music... is hard to put a finger on, as far as its vibe and sound. I'm fairly eclectic, though there are some common threads. Pandora has found some of my favorite songs for me, but there's something that it doesn't consider. Lyrics mainly. A song can sound alright while simultaneously having dismal lyrics. There was this one in particular that was pretty and I would have enjoyed listening... except it was about a kid running away and drowning because of an unhappy home life. Not something I that will make my day better.

Inane or depressing lyrics, they can be annoying. They can be song killing, but what I really love to find in lyrics is a vagueness about the topic lending itself to a variety of interpretations. A song can be enjoyable if it talks about the artist's summer job picking up trash along the highway, while thinking of that one girlfriend... It can be catchy. I could like it. But I could never take it for anything other than a song about someone picking up trash on the side of the road and thinking of his girlfriend. Its static and the lyrics don't allow for much greater interpretation than whats been given. The song is about what the song SAYS its about. Where if someones singing with appropriate vagueness, one song could apply to the heartache of getting dumped, the corruption of modern politics and the angst of a fantastically powerful demon being bent to the will of the sorcerer who holds captive the love his infernal nature should never have allowed him.

I love a song that can be about one or a million things. I get day dreams and ideas and characters and worlds to explore when I hear one...

I'm Sleepy

2011-04-18T01:46:00.000-07:00

But thats no excuse. I always am. That its 2am and I'm sleepy is probably a good thing. Usually the only sleepyness I get is at inconveinent points in the day. Like 10-11 am. Or 7 pm. Times when I shouldn't be down for the count, because there are other things on my agenda.

I'm even sleepier now, because that space between this and the last paragraph was actually almost an hour long. I got distracted talking about a plot to a daydream I was having, full of mysterious psychic powers, gore spattered guardian angels, and prison breaking for the greater good... I have fun day dreams.

I just used the last of my hot air for blogging talking to someone else about the tragedy and benefits of 2D side characters. And also about the importance or writing daily.

Fun post. -_-

Writing

2011-04-03T17:22:00.001-07:00

Its mentally excruciating sometimes to actually consent to letting words hit paper. Or... screen rather. Paper its physically painful as I tend to suffer from quick and ruthless writers cramp, from forearm to shoulder. Misses my hand entirely, but I cant keep my arm loose for the life of me. Anyway, I got a book from my library's online bit, called The Right to Write, and I'm on chapter two, but I'm liking it so far. I really never do read much beyond fantasy and occasional sci-fi, but I'm plowing on.

So far it's telling me I need to chill out. I need to let go of my words being impressive or perfect. Stop trying to be some other more read and more successful author or blogger, stop trying to write for global critics, and start writing. Just... writing. And its perfectly logical, as one will never become an author of any critical acclaim or critical crucifixion if they are too afraid to write anything at all. The book in published print offers one an invitation to write badly. To have awkward sentences and abrupt subject changes. Rambles and sidetracks and words that don't inspire tears and lifelong devotion. An invitation to write for the sake of it. To be disorganized and without topic or logic. Just write. For the sake of it. For the practice of it. Without self incrimination and bitter critical judgments.

To write, and let it be.

A Rambling

2011-03-15T21:00:00.000-07:00

I have some things to write... seeing as its not my bedtime, the time at which I happen to get all my best ideas, inspiration, and motivation, I don't really have a particularly elegant or whimsical way to lead into it, or even a specific topic I want to cover in depth... so...

Some months ago, a time period somewhat after the general bedrock flat line dump that my life took this fall, I finally signed up for a Metal and Jewelry Smithing class, the college and art center had been offering. After no little feat of locating said class... listed as being held at the "saddle shop" I endevored to ask the school receptionists where this "saddle shop" was located. After some confused looks and mumbling we determined that neither knew. This is a small town and a small branch of a small community college... how can they not know where their classes are? And if not the two of them, (there are only three office employees there total, and I wasnt going to aquire a conseling appointment to ask...) who does know where their classes are? Maybe its loosing classrooms that gives community colleges a bad reputation. Anyway, my dad, being a long term resident and using similar obscure methods of finding businesses, such as "the machine shop", I asked him where this "saddle shop" was, giving no other information. "Oh its across from the show house", he says right of the bat replying to obscurity in kind. In an ironic twist of fate, it is lucky we have but one "show house" in these parts. And so it came to pass that we found it.

Taking the class was intimidating, and as I am easily intimidated this was little surprise. I was however very much enamored by the work. I love it, in fact. Just learning how to manipulate metal as a medium is incredible. The speed at which things go together. The clarity of the art is baffling to me. In some way its restrictive from other forms. There aren't so many colors to choose. Shapes can be limited by the nature of the material your using. And yet... within the confines there's so much possibility. Simplicity to intricacy. It just flies together. It does take a lot of tools though. I've bought several, but I still don't have a way to solder at home. Right now, my bracelet I'm working on, is waiting for just that. Just a few more joints and its ready to be cleaned and finished. Stones set and worn. And what a wonderful thing to create. Something that's useful as well as beautiful.

I have a million projects I want to do. Napkin rings, bodice laced cuff bracelet. I want to try making a tea light lantern, or a pill box like the one a class guest showed that her father had made. I want to do tribal earrings, crowns for the kids, finish Amanda's birthday present... And I still have a lot I want to learn. Like pin hinges and clasps, casting of any and every sort, and smithing with hot metals and hammers like a friend of the instructors does. And on up to full welding. A garden trellis or wrought iron cake stand or wall hanging, or head board. A necklace tree, or a scarf holder.The heat, the temperments of the various metals, the solder... its fascinating to see what can come together. The durability and strength you can attain... And theres something about the timelessness of the craft. Something about the skill and time and materials involved, that make it seem so very valuable and rare. Chainlink and cinderblock to brick and wrought iron? There's power, beauty and elegance to the upgrade. Wealth perhaps. The customization and the hand crafted personal care to create it.

I like.

Feet of Living Dead

2011-01-29T01:56:00.000-08:00

I wonder sometimes, about my circulation. You see... I don't seem to have any happening at all in several limbs. Like right now, my right hand is icy cold and only a little numb. Well maybe not quite numb. It isn't having too much difficulty typing after all, but it is seriously cold. Now before you worry about my heart attacking me, if it is its subtle and persistent... but I think when your heart turns on you, seeking revenge for your genetic down falls and greasy food/no exercise habits, you usually die. My hand is numb all the time. Especially when I use the computer. If my right hand why not my left? I mean... sure my right hand is up there most often, but frequently they nearly tie!

Beyond my hand being icey cold, my feet tend to feel like those of the dead. Not that I go around feeling dead peoples feet. I dont have any sort of dead foot complex... but I'm pretty sure my feet are what a dead persons feet might feel like once they've reached room temperature. I hope its room temperature, 'cause otherwise I'm using them to chill my canned beverages from now on and thats just not sanitary. Sanitation is another reason why you shouldn't go around feeling dead peoples feet too. At least use gloves, sheesh. Anyway... my feet are cold. They tend to look sort of greyish purple sometimes. Or like... sallow white yellow. Now I have quite especially cute feet, but corpse colored cute feet are somewhat less so. Besides, I have discovered, seeing as my feet get cold usually a couple hours before I go to bed, that my feet do not let me sleep if they are cold. However, them being cold blooded at this point, absolutely require an external sorce of heat to reach body temperature again.

And I'm pretty sure thats why I cant sleep when they're cold. Its my body telling me that if they don't get blood soon I'll have to amputate by morning and feet are more important than you sleeping so fix it! And I do, but lately its just been by using my electric blanket. Electric blankets do not heat up like they used to though.... you cant even feel the heat unless its on high and even then you cant find warm spots for corpse feet. So I have to leave on high forever, and I'm sleepy before forever is quite finished, but only by a little bit. I take almost forever to fall asleep, but I do fall asleep before I remember to turn of my blanket. I wake up four hours later slightly cooked, and my feet roughly to human temperature again, but roasted. How can I sleep?! It doesn't work! And really... if the circulation is much worse the gangrene might set in and then I will have to amputate.

And while my mother has feet like unto sunbeams and radiators and lava flows, and wears flip flops in the snow... I inherited Grandma's chilly toes.

Its Smoking...

2011-01-26T16:15:00.000-08:00

Made/making some creme caramel stuff. Kinda went a little too long on the caramel so its a smidgeon more bitter and dark and smokey than I prefer, but I think its within the acceptable range for the recipe. Gives a little contrast to the creamy sweeness of the center to have a little bitterness around the edges. I could even use this for a metaphor! Like unto creme caramel, my touch of bitterness around the edges adds to the complexity and compliments my inner sweetness.

Heh. It might work on someone. It wouldn't work however, on the lady we met walking the Tuna on the park path. while walking a half mile stretch with a river to one side and a huge feild to the other... I have sometimes been want to let the Tuna go freebird. She acts way better off leash anyway, and generally has been to occupied sniffing around under the snow in the middle of said field, to even blink twice at people OR dogs walking past. Today she was occupied just so. Occupied even though two collared but wandering dogs decided to adopt us for their walk. Said beasts, watching the Tuna ignore them were laying and occasionally frolicking around her in the field, when from up the way and around some bushes another walker hailed us...

Now I could give you the full moment to moment narrative, but I'm bored by it so heres basically how it went. She skanked from afar that her little fluffy dogs were viciously dog aggressive and she would spray our off leash dogs with bear spray. We let her know our DOG, note the singular wouldnt care if she was walking past but we would get her on leash. She repeated that then she'll just have to spray them with the bear spray. Apparently not believing us when we told her those aren't our dogs. What are we supposed to do about it? And how does spraying other dogs with bear spray make up for your dogs being dog aggressive? How is, when my little dogs attack another dog, I'm going to back up their ill placed bravado with Bear Spray! That sounds like a GREAT solution... These dogs were abused, so after my yappy fluff ball attacks yours I'm going to whip out the bear spray and punish your dog for it.

If you cant manage to walk your dog on OR off leash without endangering other people and animals maybe you shouldn't. Yeah, her dogs need exercise. Those other dogs frolicking need to not be sprayed with pepper spray. HER dogs need manners. And maybe, if her schedule is so busy that she crates them 11 hours a day she shouldn't have gotten them in the first place!

Gah.. Im ranting again. I dont like ranting, but I really don't like it when people don't get the picture of dog ownership. She's "working with them", but it just looks to me like their all out of control, her kicking at them on the end of their leashes as they pull and snarl at Tuna, who watched them wide eyed. For all her righteous, dogs need leashed! She knows as little as anyone.

Sorry for the segue rant. Probably should delete it... hm... : /

Bed Time

2011-01-26T01:36:00.000-08:00

I didn't want to ruin a good streak, but I also didn't want to stay up this late! I'd like to part with some great knowledge or insight and a couple paragraphs. Just a few words to get back in the swing of verbal self expression... But it isn't going to happen. Not tonight. I'm going to bed now! Only an hour and a half past when I had originally hoped. I'm pretty hopeless.

Dread and Butter

2011-01-25T02:03:00.000-08:00

I love butter. I also love my metal class. I've really enjoyed working with it. I always feel stoked by the time class is over, having finished this or triumphed here or decided some path of action for the next period. I get a lot done and its not like its quick or always easy but sometimes it feels like its instant gratification. Three hours of my time spent in class and POW! Stuffs done! Like a vending machine of production. Time goes in, goods and elation come out. Its a wonderful process. I think it should be able to happen the same way at home as well. I put time and effort in, get cool things back, but I never can manage the disipline to really sit down and do anything. Anything productive anyway. Not saying that leveling my character on W.O.W to lvl 63 in less that 30 days isn't good production... but I drain so many hours to things that don't leave me satisfied or any better at anything than I was before. In metal class, I'm required to be focused on metals. By the instructors, peers, my own interests and simple circumspection. Its just what you do. And at work I wash dishes because that's whats required and its just what one does! So as should be expected, I get results at class, much more frequently and in much greater volume than at home.

And yet..... every week as Sunday comes to a close and Monday night draws nearer, I find my heels beginning to dig in and my feet start to drag. And I groan as the hour approaches, and I start bargaining in my head. I dont want to go. What if I do this at home, and this wont take very long if I get this ready. And if I have stuff to work on then its ok. The other student missed a couple classes... Truly I'm not THAT in bargaining out of this class. I haven't missed one yet, and I'd be sorry if I did. Yet why dont I want to go? What makes me pause in the car before I head in? Is it the self same inner demon that keeps me from devoting three hours to useful endeavors on the home front? Is it my social introversion showing? Whats the deal?

Who knows, because I really do like doing these classes and metal work in general. Its such a cool medium to be privileged to work with. An open door to unexplored and somehow monumental new creation. I think I'll need to do a photo shoot soon of my tinkerings soon. Might have to put another polish on them though, just to be perfect!

Words for Their Own Sake

2011-01-24T01:08:00.000-08:00

I need words to fall to the page. I need them to flow. I don't know what to say. I dont know what makes my words important or worthy or worth reading, but if I let the wonder and the unknown be the catch in my step that keeps me from writing what will become of my stories? What will become of the spontaneous gift of inspiration? The moments I know this is what this character would do because thats who she is. Or that this fantastical technology works like this. Not because I puzzled it. Not because I built it from the ground up, but because it just IS. I just KNOW. Like how you know the moon is up because you look to check and its there. Waiting for you to look. Waiting for you to wonder if its still there to answer your query. Am I to abandon these inspirations half formed? Abort before their fleshed out and complete? It may be that I should share these gifts. It may be I create them for their own sake, or perhaps for my own creative gratification and dedication to the act and art. What will get me to take the time. Sacrifice it to the whims of creation with no guarantee return. What will make me turn away from the opium of entertainment to face the discomfort and hardship and glory of DOING? What can overcome the fear and stutters and avoidance that catch and pick at my enthusiasm?

Time Passing...

2010-10-27T21:37:00.000-07:00

I'm irresponsibly letting Tuna, my labrador lapdog* snuggle me on the couch. Shes curled into the tightest of balls with her head on my lap. She's a heat seeker and it is getting colder outside. She was sitting ON my lap earlier. She usually keeps a bit more distance, but either she loves me or she's getting desperate for warmth. She'll weasel in and sit inches away from the space heater we have...

It makes me happy she's sitting on my lap, and a little sad. Pansy was my lap dog. About any time I was sitting on the ground she'd cuddle up on my lap. Wet, muddy or otherwise. Weather or not she could fit... I miss her. I'm glad I have Tuna.

Technically she's a Vizlador, which is just our new designer name for our Vizla Lab mutt)

And There Ya Go

2010-10-14T19:54:00.000-07:00

The ole twenty-ten hasn't been the most pleasant year in recorded history. At least by my reckoning. Mostly I just wanted to break radio silence.

The daily grind can be distracting. The repetition, the weeks where nothing gets better or worse. The weeks where nothing happens. Nothing gets done or changes. Days when it feels like I was just putting pajamas's on a minute ago and now I'm doing it again... Sometimes it feels restful and sometimes I feel restless. I count what I haven't done, and groan that I'm tired or don't feel like it.

And then sometimes, there are changes, and it knocks you flat on your... back.

Ugh.

2010-05-13T00:36:00.000-07:00

A tickle. A bit of... difficulty about the swallowing. And then it hits you. With in 4 hours of the first tickle, I have been laid low with aches and pains and runny nose. All the wonderful hallmarks of a sweet lil cold. So fast. I felt fine at lunch. And dinner... and slam. Dont even want to climb up stairs to bed.

Feeling Tingles

2010-04-30T23:53:00.001-07:00

Went to the ballet today. Go figure. Not that I wouldn't like going to the ballet, it just isn't something that happens in this town. There's about 10 girls under the age of 14 who wear tights and spring around in the community arts building... but even their parent recitals are lawn chairs and five minutes of parental pleasing prancing. My sister enjoyed it and I always desperately wanted to sign up, but its nothing you'd ever go to watch for the snooty art fix.

Well the same art center hosted a group from Eugene... I think. As a fundraiser. My little sister and her friend and her friends strange other friend begged their parents to go, but no parent wanted to be drug there. I got 20$ and a ticket to the ballet.

To be honest I feel like I cheated on the deal. Twenty bucks for attending preforming arts? Heck, the twerps left me the second we entered the auditorium to sit up front. We were late (their fault, not mine) and it was pitch black. I was slowly creeping down the familiar incline of the high school auditorium, completely blind in the dark. Could see the seats but not if they had occupants, which is a bad combination. I was waiting to sit in someones lap...

The performance was very nice. Wondered till intermission how this town had come up with this much talent. There couldn't be that many young people in the whole town period, let alone those willing to do ballet. I had figured they were from out of town before I really read the program.

I expected that. What I didn't expect was to practically choke up when one of their routines reminded me of Tango. That feeling of union and safety and intricacy. When it becomes more than just work and practice and putting the pieces together and becomes the sheer joy of movement. Is that why these dancers spend so many hours practicing, stretching and working for this performance? Because it feels wonderful to move snap on with the music? To feel the strength and synchrony of your partner as you intricately spin about the stage? And frankly, some of those just look fun. To be able to leap that high? No jumping there, its a flat out leap... To be able to move like that... Isn't that some kind of joy?

I hope... more than hope, that wherever I move next will have some dang Tango. I might dry up and blow away without it.

Chutzpah!

2010-01-26T21:43:00.000-08:00

I'm really tired. Really really tired. I never get enough sleep during the week regardless that I'm getting up at 10... Never can sleep and Ive been staying up late anyway doin stuff. Backing up my brothers precious computer files or finalizing my amazon order... or studying back pack ratings so I'll make the best possible choice I can even though I have no experience back packing. Have to get that figured out for when I leave on the 16th. Or I'm stressing about that test(which I took today!) to finally get some classes at the community college in town. Have to be ready to register on the 8th of March. Or I'm trying to figure out what to plant in the garden, at least the important stuff like tomatoes and peppers. I need to order them soon, so I'll be able to start right when I get back... also on the 8th of March. Also need to work, practice some Pimsleur, take some more shots, talk to the bank... and mentally prepare myself for those 22 days I've left unaccounted for in this here post. I'm heading to Thailand! Out of the country! For real! For practically a month! OUT OF THE COUNTRY!

I've always wanted to go out of the country. Watching PBS as a kid(I'm talking second grade at least), Rick Steves and National Geographic. Reading fantasy books with castles and cobble stones. I've been dreaming about it forever. And I get to! Yee!

I'm wanting to take cooking classes while I'm there. And pictures. And a bike tour... and I dont even know. I'm scared and excited and getting closer to being ready every day. Not many left though. ^-^

Hostly Duties

2009-11-08T01:44:00.000-08:00

I realize now that my computer screen has a bit higher resolution setting that almost everyone elses. The ultimate result being everyone's blog looks horribly narrow. Like the page is as wide as the word expansive, but the writing is only takes up "an" of the space. So on my computer on my blog I fixed it. I spread out the margins so my words would fill up the page. Take their place full and center instead of a narrow column slicing off pieces of my photography. Looking on other's computers though I realize that while it looks great on my computer, on at least two others its been mangled to - were I following the diagram of the word "expansive" - look something like this.

expansi
ve

Though my words are spread as widely as "pans" on the page, my link bar falls off the edge, vanishing to a magled heap at the bottom of the page. I've worded this a bit confusingly, but if you've noticed my margines and tables are off and my links hanging around the bottom of the page, let me know. I think I might change it if I'm the only one seeing it like this.

Also, I think I might create a collage like satin bower bird picture. I dont have brown tissue though, so it could be difficult to get the effect I'm imagining. Maybe I'll water color it instead... I hope to buy another cheap student set when I get to Portland. Speaking of which I need to finish packing all my periferal goodies and get to bed. Yikes. Wish me luck!

Vision

2009-11-08T01:04:00.000-08:00

I've never been one to poke my walls full of push pins. Or even one to use nasty tape on my unmarked walls. Generally, my walls are kind of bare save for a few carefully placed treasures. I like the uncluttered space. My old roommates poster drowned wall drove me a little bit crazy... But I could use some more decoration. I could also use, even cluttered though it may be a beautiful big vision board. I'd place pictures cut out from magazines... a cute coat, inspiring word strip, or just a color or pattern that attracted my fancy. Weave the bits and pieces like the satin bower bird his treasured rubbish.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/ogcodes/ / CC BY-NC 2.0

I'd post things that were pretty. Things that inspired me, or made me think. I'd do impromptu collages to solidify my ideas and themes... Post dreams of all variety. Day dreaming what if I could... Life dreaming as soon as I can I'll... Real dreaming like the one I had the other night... And it would be a physical thing that I could rearange and add to and tear apart without tedious uploads and crops and sourcing. That I could fix in a moment without sitting on my darned computer, though if it looked especially good I'd consider uploading pictures.... I'd love to make it a magnet board somehow. Some sort of pewter colored metal with a sea of cute polished black and exceedingly colored magnets. And on it right now, I'd post this.

The Art of the Truffle!

Join us for a fun evening of truffles and wine!
Learn to hand temper chocolate and make true hand dipped truffles! We’ll start off by making the basic truffle. Then you decide what flavors you want to add and what you want to coat your truffles with to make both sweet and savory treasures. Take home a treasure box full of your creations.
$50

The decription to a class I have long since missed in a chocolate shop in a city I've only been to once. And though I've missed it, I could dream it and imagine it, and smile at all the flavors they might have to try and how I would arrange them... How I could take that knoledge home and apply it elsewhere... And how fun that little treasure box full of my creations would be to savor. Maybe next to a picture of students in chef hats. Maybe a shot of an urban view out of a balcony window, sheer curtains pulled to the side and blowing in the slight breeze as a woman sips at her beverage on a cute bistro table. A flat. An arrangement of colorful scarves. Paving stones in an old park in the old town... Bits and peices. Moments and feelings. All bits and peices of a dream I treasure and long to meet. And I could look at it in fleeting reality on my dream board and smile, and be inspired to move with my day one step closer.

If I Had...

2009-11-06T22:35:00.000-08:00

Have you ever when running or singing or stretching or trying to put something really delicate and back together with your suddenly massive fingers.... run into the very edge of your ability? Where your try to pull your foot back just a little faster. Where you can see just how or where you should grab that sliver with your fingernails... but you cant. Its like running one of those stupid claw vending machines, only you cant blame the controls the same way, because its not some rigged money making contraption, its your body. I wonder if a surgeon feels the same way. And how frustrating and terrifying it would be for them. A millimeter off and they'll never walk again...

Its frustrating to run, not into a wall (my elbow cant bend backwards at a 90 degree angle) but into the end of that bungee cord tether. Where it doesn't feel impossible, just a little beyond you. It seems possible to pull yourself up into that tree or win that arm wrestling match, but no matter how easy it seems, how hard you try, your arm just cant move any further.

I keep blathering on forgetting what I'm segwaying to. I guess its that tools are in many ways an extension of our body. And our body, in many ways, a tool of our mind. It exhilerating to know that there's still room for improvement. That you can, with practice and time, run a little faster. Overcome that hurdle that was impassable before. Unlike one's body which generally gets stronger with practice, tools need to be improved manually. No magical recipe for growth like with ones body. If its going to work better, it has to be made to work better.

Luckily other people are good at making improvments and new tools just for others to use them. Now for some specifics. If I had a crazy lot of money, there's a lot of things I would buy. There's always a new list. Right now many of the things on it are tool upgrades. Extentions of my periferal systems.

I'd love lenses to open a new door on photography. I run into my limits with so many pictures. Scarred by blurriness that I cant account for. Backgrounds I wish I could blur in full view. Candid distance I can't accomadate for. And macros. Such beautiful larger than life details... breathtaking closeness... Impossible and lost with my lens.

I'd get Photoshop. I'm so dejected looking at some of my favorite photographers works. I cant even comprehend how their images become what they are. There's no way any of my pictures could ever come out looking that good. Colors just dont look that good... and then I realize. I'm producing nothing but raw images. They've got theirs filletted marinated spice rubbed and sauteed to pefection with just the right amount of sear and garnish. That is to say, perfectly amply proccessed. I have a few that I'd match against some of theirs with the added bonus of "I GOT THAT GOOD IN THE RAW!" but by large, my pictures wont look as good as theirs do without editing.

I'd get a tablet. I'm looking at a Wacom Intuios4. Ive been meaning to do a web comic, and how nice would it be if I could write, line, color, and post without living by my scanner and taking hours to fix any sort of color distortion. Think how often I might be tempted to post my art if I could do so without uploading and converting to jpeg and and cropping and renaming and uploading to the internet... See what I mean?

I'd get new paints. More prisma color markers. Classes to learn more skills. Oh! An external hard drive so all my pictures camera and otherwise can fit onto my computer without it crashing! Much of this will have to wait though. I'm heading to Seattle and Portland. I want to buy people Chrismas presents. And I want to go to Thailand this spring. I've got myself in the red for the rest of the year, but there's always hope down the road. Always improvements to be had.

Progression and Such Like

2009-11-06T16:04:00.000-08:00

I'm going to Seattle tomorrow or Sunday. Then I'll be in Portland till the 19th. I don't really know what to write about, beyond a degenerating flow of consciousness. I've been painting. Using my little brother's art set he never used. I stole his cheapo acrylics and bought some canvas board for 99 cents and plugged out some painting. Like this one.

I realized today as I was posting it... I think I really am terrified of being criticized. And as some sort of defense mechanism I start pointing out to myself all the things people might make fun of. My road line isnt strait, that S is WAY bigger than the stupid U... the lady bug doesnt have antenna. The rainbow hits her torso (not really intentionally, just where it ended up), but it looks like its hitting her butt! People might say something about her pooping rainbows or something. And then what would I do?! I have no defence for that! Then I think what I'm saying with simbolysm which I didn't intend again, but maybe I'm saying that I'm emo, or feeling rainbowless. Or maybe the rainbow just leads the way to the bus stop. And I'm sitting her ripping apart the symbolysm, because I've managed to accept I've massacred the technical skill part of it. And maybe people will make fun of me for using cheap material or doing such a standard rainbow land thing...

People never do. Say any of those things. It doesn't matter though. I've already done it for them. I think I tell myself that because I'm citicizing it, its better. That I'm accepting my flaws, that I know them so no one needs to point them out. They've already been claimed so they have to find something new to make fun of. And because its me, its ok because I like me. And I woudln't really mean to hurt my feelings. Only... I do. I start believing it. That its worthless. That its flawed. That its medeocre. And I kill that excitment of having created. Murder it in cold blood and leave it in peices in the dumpster along with any "personal best" thoughts I might have. An hour, a day, a week after finishing something, I almost cant bear to think about it, let alone look it over without feeling embarrased that I thought it was good. And that little excited girl inside me who wants to show everyone "look what I did" is scolded into sad and embarrased silence...

Sorry for going all emo. Thats a worse case senerio. I dont generally let me get myself down that bad. But I do try to find everything wrong with my art that I do. Arguabley it helps me improve, if I dont let it cripple me. Its strangely motivated though. I'm afraid of what others think. So I try to come up with what they might be thinking, as a defensive measure. I don't want to care what others think, so what I think is most important. Somewhere in there though it turns into I only care what I think and I think it sucks. So anyone who agree's I said it first, and anyone who thinks its nice, I'll graceously accept the compliment even though you must be wrong! But the excited girl will smile to herself anyway.

And I plugged through that tissue paper collage I thought up a while ago. I'm not satisfied with it quite yet though. Mind you, its not that I'm hating it because of any inferiority complex I might or might not have. Yes, according to my strict guidelines it could be better. I wish I had worked the coat a little differently. I would have liked to try more folding for the layering, instead of just adding more cut outs. But I'm ok with that. Its not worth redoing as its beyond return, and it isnt terrible. What rankles me... it feels like its missing something. It needs a snow covered tree... or more texture. Maybe tissue glitter sprinkled accross the snow... Something a little more detailed. The snow was a reflexive option. I didn't think about it enough to really develop it beyond something to cover bottom... But this I can still fix. Just have to decide what exactly to do.

I want to clarify that I'm really not feeling down about either of these. I do find their mistakes, but I'm not feeling vindictive about them. The stream of consciousness just turned into providing clarity on my thought patterns and some moments of angst a couple weeks ago. Understanding negative thought patterns seems like the best way to break them. Or correct them...

Hermit

2009-09-21T23:59:00.001-07:00

I run the risk of becoming a recluse. Like the spider only less deadly. Unless I turn into a murderous recluse in which case I hope to earn the name 'necrotic' because it just sounds hardcore. Necrotic is the type of venom brown recluse or the hobo spider have. It kills your flesh and then I think you can die of gangrene because the bite is rotting off your body. That is also pretty hardcore. Not that I'm discrediting neurotoxic venom that the black widow has, because that stuff effects your nervous system. Things like your brain, which happens to do some pretty nice things like let you move and feel and think. Neurotoxic is pretty cool too, see. Its just necrotic does have that slick latin root which makes my imagination turn to angsty stories of the undead...

Anyway, I'm getting a job. I'm also getting some classes. This does require me getting an appointment with a councilor because I have no idea how they work it this collegy place. The problem is they have almost no classes, so I'll probably go online and drop 500$ at BYU because they do have some cool sounding courses. First I have to get that 500$ though so its back to the appointment with the counsilor. Which for some reason my head tells me I cant do because thats talking to people and setting up appointments, and I dont do that, and thats where the recluse part comes in. I could become a hermit. On accident. And that's pretty scary.

Short of hitting the bars there isnt much of a social life in this town, so soon I will require a foray into a different town with new people and maybe a town with people awake after 6:30. I'm not one for really living up the night life, unless 7pm to 11pm counts. In that case I'm party hardy. Rambling.... I'll go now.

Woe Me

2009-09-16T00:02:00.000-07:00

I have a headache.

Headache by *xNickixstockx on deviant ART

The Way of Anime

2009-09-14T00:30:00.000-07:00

I enjoy anime. I enjoy the sometimes deep and intense plots. The angst. The animations and character designs. I enjoy watching anime, but I cannot recall a single series in which the ending was completely satisfactory. Not one. So I can only recommend proceeding to the end with caution. Be it the last episode, or the one just before, the end is there. Avoid it.

The Wonderland of Gear

2009-09-08T01:12:00.001-07:00

So I'm on the market for a hiking backpack. The big ones that you do long trips with, though I could use a good day pack too... Anyway, I want to express my frustration. Its hard to discover out what pack you should buy. Looks are sacrificed for fit. You cant test fit on the internet, so you go to ye local REI. Turns out they only have about 10 bags on hand to try on. Then you try to try them on in the two feet space between the end of the isle, and the mound of disorganized backpacks on the floor. They're in desperate need of a larger building, and did I mention it was hugely crowded? It is. I find a really ugly one that fits really well, but have no other wish list to think of. More research. By the time I get around to it I've forgotten my ugly packs model. Back to square one. And this, through internet research, is where one comes across this tid bit about bag fitting.

"The next thing you need to figure out is if you are small, medium or large framed. This is pretty easy to do."

Oh goody!

"Take your thumb and forefinger and place them around your waist. If your fingers touch easily, then you are small framed. If your fingers don't touch, but just barely, then you are medium framed. If your fingers don't touch at all and couldn't even if you squeezed as hard as you could, your large framed."

And I'm thinking to myself... The heck kind of person can put their hands around their waist?! My hands cant even make it around my brothers waist and he's shaped roughly like a toothpick! It takes me a few minutes to figure out that when they said "waist", they actually said "wrist" and I horribly misread it. Fail. -_-

In the end, I guess I'm small to medium frame. I would like pockets on the waist straps, and a sleeping bag compartment. Also probably front access and top. A multi day, but not heavy duty. And it has to fit.

Have You Ever Really Overslept?

2009-09-05T00:41:00.001-07:00

Cotton covers the recesses of my brain. A pillow fight in my head. Like someone safety coated my thoughts in fluff. A headache though it is not. Not painful. Not in a way I can cope. Killing me softly they say. Thoughts are failing. They slide like sand paper through my conscience. Inspiration lost like a smile in a blurry photo. Vanishing altogether as I seek them. Beauty looses it luster. Fun the enjoyment. Emotion its edge. Me my comfort. My happiness. My effectiveness. I fail with my thoughts. Flounder. Fall. Submit again to sweet poisoned sleep. Unwilling. Anxious. Unable to escape. From the moment I lay to sleep, lost to its siren song. Pulled into the limbo of the day after. Prepared unready for the unpleasant existence. The day after. Sleep hangover.

When it comes to sleep I'm like an alcoholic. Like when it comes to reading I'm a like meth addict. Overall irresponsible when it comes to my favored substances.

You Can Also

2009-09-03T14:54:00.000-07:00

What I meant to mention in the last post, was my elation at teaching Pansy a new game. Realizing we were both turning into exceedingly lazy couch potatoes and loosing our respective edges, I researched(read played around on the internet) games to play with your dog.

I couldn't find her bouncy ball which was my first reflex when giving Pansy a good time, so I grabbed the aflack duck. Working with sit and stay, I sneaked to the corner of the room, and hid it in a basket. She was watching me the whole time of course. Probably wondering what the heck I was doing and if she could have her toy back.... and then I said, "Ok! go find it!" And it worked! She went and found it... so we did it again, a little harder, a littler further. Out of the room, out of sight. Found it every time (though she appreciated a hint now and again. Pansy can be a bit of quitter...) Im pretty stoaked I have the best dog ever!

Of Life and Luna

2009-09-03T14:17:00.001-07:00

We finally made the leap. Toying at getting a second dog for years. Thinking about adopting from a shelter. We did both in one fell swoop.

Her big ears roped us in. I know its not fair to pick a dog solely for its appearances, but that's all the shelter gave us. Her picture, the run of the mill "Dogs have living requirements like food and shelter" description, and a very misleading breed approximation. From the picture its pretty apparent she's a lab. One might mistake her for a golden lab, but for her ears. My dears, they though she was a hound because of them. They overlooked her eyes, her energy, the light brown of her nose. They misread not only her ears, but sniffing and her short coat as well. My good people, I have come to the sound conclusion that miss Luna's heritage lies not with black nosed droopy long eared hounds, but with the high-tention, high strung, brown nosed lop eared birdogs, the Vizsla.

We have inadvertently come into the possession of a high energy, albeit affectionate, bird dog in place of a laid back lab hound. So instead another blob to rest at my feet while I type this, I have a wound up bouncing pooch out in the yard waiting for a quick 3 mile run and some birds to chase.

She's a bit more than were used to handling. Still getting the idea of things, she fights with Pansy, barks ferociously at passing dogs, and can barely contain her energy when we interact. Out of sheer self defence one must exercise the daylights out of these dogs daily. Its way more than were used to, but we'll give it some time. And they look so cute together, you now... when they're not biting each others faces off.

The Sweet Lies of Advil

2009-08-06T22:42:00.000-07:00

I should be asleep. Thats what my aching body was telling me ten minutes ago, before the ibuprofen kicked in. Now its just telling 'dang you feel like crap, but you can sit upright!'. I need to listen to it's first message.

Ive been building set. That makes it sound bigger than it is... more like, set pieces. I have out of Gorilla Tape (like duct tape x2), 100$ of paint, and four family generations of safety pins, created a fortune teller's tent and a bingo parlor. Or rather, the set piece equivalent of said items. In truth, it only looks like those from one angle... as is the way with set building.

Today, opening night, I was putting on the final touches. Like completely redoing the entire side because they decided it needed. AGAIN. The thing you must take into consideration... I live in a desert. We get 10-15 inches of rain or other precipitation a year. It decided to rain a full half of those today. Months with no rain. The state is about to burn down around us. Weeks of 90-100 degree weather... and the day we are to open. The day I'm standing outside ALL day... it pours. ALL day. I didn't even think this part of the state could rain more tan 15 straight. So wore a rain coat, and lashed enough canvas to do any sailor proud, and was wet up to my cell phone by the time I was done. And now I'm all achy.

2009-07-08T01:02:00.000-07:00

It occurs to me that I should mention all of these photo's originally posted by "GhettoSteve" are in fact mine. Sort story made relatively shorter chatting with friends I was trying to come up with a quick trucker radio name and out popped Ghetto Steve. Steve happened to be my stand by 'quick make up a name' name at the time... After that I thought it would make an excellent screen name so Ive been using it for a while. It is maybe less than decorous and definitely gives people the wrong impression, namely that I'm a guy named Steve. Regardless I like it and so many accounts are filed under that name I cant change it now!

I went to light fireworks with Amanda this Fourth of July. That girl had a crazy lot of fireworks. Plenty to practice photography with. This is my favorite one the whole night though. Now I'm hitting myself for turning down the quality on my camera settings. But alas, my camera and computer can only hold so much! I cant stop taking pictures! I tried that. It was depressing.

Instead I think I'm going to buy a 500G external hard drive. I'd go terabyte because they re actually not much more expensive, but I like that the smaller ones can attach to my computer with no external plug in. As for 500G being over kill? Every picture I take is potentially 20 megabytes, adding the max size RAW and JPEG together. That means 50 pictures a gig...? I upload over a hundred every time I plug in my camera. Sure some of those are crap and should be deleted... but still! I'm moving a lot of data!

It's also crazy - Tanner was telling me - on Nova it said the human brain can only hold one terabyte of information. So maybe forgetting all those insects I memorized in biology is just a way of freeing up disk space.

I was looking at peoples Flickr streams and feeling a bit blown away. I also felt incredibly lazy. The work some of these photographers go to to create a single image? Astounding. While I'd love to have the internet fame and tens or hundreds of comments... Thats an incredible amount of work and guts to put up an image of your friend in decked out ornate skivvies and walpaper doing a handstand in a stream bed*. I'm not sure if I'm motivated enough to put that together. Then again, people who only try half way aren't the ones getting noticed. People who take the time are the ones who deserve it after all. Sux being lazy because its a lot of work to change...

Anyway. This was a terrible ramble. And I'm going to bed.

*(combined impression of several photo's)

I Has Pie Skillz

2009-07-04T01:53:00.001-07:00

Jam Pie, originally uploaded by Ghetto Steve.

Ignoring of course that this pie is four inches across filled with jam and made with frozen pie dough. It is really good jam. Black cherry Hero brand jam/preserves, with lovely bits and chunks of cherry, delightful dark flavor, and thick and wonderfully colorful. And the frozen pie crust was home made from scratch. See the flaky goodness? Not bad for a after swimming snack, eh?

And whats even more amazing, the crust baked perfectly! The filling was a tad sweet being made from jam, but I aspire to make my cherry pie at least half as flavorful as that jam.

Enough rambling, I'm going to bed. Just wanted to point out I do have some pie skills. So maybe its not completely crazy for me to teach a class on it.

Stick With It

2009-06-30T23:49:00.000-07:00

Like that cartoon cliche of testing the water with a dainty toe, I'm edging toward teaching a pie class. Though often I have the darnedest time working myself up to actually work on something, I did some brain storming today. To be honest I really just thought about some plans to eventually brainstorm on it sometime... You get the idea. If I leave it at that it will never happen. What I do have worked out so far though...

I will use Creamerie Classique butter. Bella's has it in town now. ^^ (She totally said she couldn't get it when I asked for it but now she has it!) Its just about the best butter I've ever tasted in a pie and its only 4$ a pound compared to the 8$ of imported butter. It is also practically local being from Oregon.

I will have each student bring home a batch of pie dough. I'm considering having them work with a partner. The class I took had us work in pairs. It not only saves on supplies, but give them someone to vent worries too when they don't think its turning out... That's what we did!

I will make two or three different pies for tasting. I'm a bit vague on which pies to cook though. A fruit pie? Something savory? Should I do some sort of tart or save it for another class? I'll probably keep more modern gourmet editions of classics for the class and emphasize the versatility of fillings.

Definitely going to do pate brisee dough. Was thinking of pate sucree, but I suck at it(read have made it once?) and don't want to teach two per class. Maybe if this goes well I'll teach a tart specific class later and have some more crust variety.

That being said I already feel a bit worried! I should snuffle them out with logic and self confidence, but for the sake of sharing I'm afraid all those people who show up to Kristen's classes wont show up for mine. Not that I need them exactly, but I'm afraid that they won't need me to show them how to make crust. What if they already know how to make pie crusts? I guess they wouldn't sign up then, and if they did they'd be polite and happy for the practice! Now I know how my in-town tango teacher felt when I showed up to her 'beginning tango' class! Makes me feel really bad/worried I wasn't supportive enough!

I can't really vouch for peoples expectations. I'm also not about to honestly tell you I'm an expert in making pies. But there is something to be said for bluffing. Fake it till you make it! I know Kristen can wing it to amazing results. So I intend to offer what I know to whoever is interested, take it or leave it. I'm afraid, but not expecting failure. I know it will be work and stress and panic. That I'll curse it at least once in the duration. I pray I'll be able to deliver my piece during the class and not fall victim to my shyness. Stage fright I can handle, shyness much less so.

Stick with it. Every moment I think on it is a step closer to writing them back with a plan. A step closer to a date and a price. A step closer to teaching a class. A step closer to doing something.

The Colours of My Loves

2009-06-25T01:19:00.001-07:00

Reincarnation Ruled Out, originally uploaded by Ghetto Steve.

This puppy sure does love the water. Carson, my sweet, would never touch the stuff unless it was in a river and or lake, and smelled as such. Unless you asked her very sweetly, and she'd look a little bit sad, but slowly come into the bathtub or toward you with the hose, and ask back, if she could NOT get wet... and sometimes I'd say yes and let her stay muddy and stinky because she was so sweet and trusted me so much. I love her so much. And I love this puppy so much too. She's different, and young and brattier, but I love all the same.

I posted a bunch of pics on my flickr. It wasnt even too hard when I dont think about it overmuch. I always hate editing and uploading and deleting. Just feels like so much clutter all the time. I think I'll pick up an external harddrive just for my pics so I wont have to worry about taking so many.

Sent

2009-06-23T13:55:00.000-07:00

I just asked Crossroads, the local art community center class giving thing, if they'd have me teach a pie class! Thats right. I could be TEACHING a class!

Two or Two Thousand

2009-06-22T18:01:00.000-07:00

I miss tango. I miss the magic of letting my feet paint the floor. I miss feeling connected and centered. I miss practicing steps and the gentle thrill of intricate foot work. I miss putting together outfits so they move. I miss looking at shoes nearly taller than I am. I miss struggle to improve each step, and the tension before the resolve. I miss tango.

Frustrations Galore

2009-06-22T00:35:00.000-07:00

Each moment an opportunity slips by. Night dragging on, head feeling like a sand dredged clock, Advil en rout, but at least thirty minutes from the scene. I could be going to bed. I could seize the moment to leap into that task, preparation. Preparation, that necessary bureaucratic largely unpleasant buffer between where you are, and where you want to be now. Preparation is what makes going to bed now into going to bed in 20 minutes. I've already missed going to bed at 12:54. In fact. I've missed going to bed before 1:00, even if one doesn't round the 6 minutes away.

To truly seize the opportunities of the moment, one must be prepared first. To seize the now, one must have truly started earlier. That impenetrable inexorable wall that is time past prevents us from taking now. Without mercy it will not allow us to go back, to fix our oversights or misdeeds. Our procrastinations or cluelessness will forever be preserved full and intact on display every moment we miss an opportunity. Now do we realize the importance of an idle moment a month ago. Now with dashed hopes or embarrassed mumblings we greet the suddenly real day of reckoning. That rerun watched instead of weeding, a tall stand or study shrubs. That lazy Saturday, horror as a perpetually cleanly friend or relative drops by unexpectedly. A common theme; A missed workout here or there and months later? Self doubt as you shimmy into that swimming suit or that snug pair of jeans.

Having procrastination already as my vice, cluelessness is another failing. Until I think of it or am called upon to truly contemplate the date... I am oblivious of deadlines. Oblivious of looming possibilities. Oblivious of dates. Oblivious as I was to the coming and passing of registration deadlines. Another summer down the drain. Another semester lost. Another season in my life slipping away. The classes I could taste - just for a moment - start tomorrow. Missed it by a mile. Missed it by a month. And a half. An opportunity I could take. Only just tomorrow! But lost for the preparation missed too long ago for me to salvage. I feel the fool and the deadbeat, and have not even the fall to look forward to for recovery for I will be absent. Not to mention the opportunities lost in summer only classes...

I don't judge my self worth by what the world thinks of me. How am I to know what the world thinks of me? But sometimes I do judge myself on what I think the world should be thinking of me. Whether the world does is immaterial, I suppose. I trust my judgement more than the world's.

Colours A Plenty

2009-06-03T22:06:00.000-07:00

Alex, my 7 year old sister, beautifully colored a copy of my Amanda drawing. I thought I'd share here!

Please leave a comment if you like it!

Happy Birthday!

2009-06-02T22:45:00.000-07:00

Dear Whitney, now that your getting to the age where you start not telling people how old you are I'll do it for you! Happy 23rd Birthday!Four things that make me think of Whintey
The color purlple. The actual color not the musical. Its her faviorite and I always think of her when I see it.
Anime. Seecretly, she likes it.
Classical books. She always could finish them when I gave up.
Green eyeshadow. Because technically its hers...

Love you Whit! Have a great birthday!

Photo : Bev (Sugarbloom Cupcakes)

And We're Up

2009-06-02T18:43:00.000-07:00

Just launched a DeviantArt account at Robs badgering. I mean... encouragement. Only have one thing so far, but who knows what else might make it up there!

Driving me crazy that I can't fix all the little imperfections I can see when its all blown up big on my computer. All the old pencil lines and places where I screwed up with shaky hands or vague pencil lines. Someday I'll get photoshop. And by the way, this is supposed to be Amanda and technically I am her imagination's figment.

Cursed OPB

2009-05-22T00:32:00.000-07:00

Culture can be a beautiful thing, but can be hard to stomach when it violates moral civil standards. I'm not talking wearing belly shirts or spitting just to be polite. I'm thinking more along the lines of abuse. Women, children... even animals. I don't want to be a dominating western colonizer imposing my own cultural perspective onto others, but in no wise can I see abuse as culture. It degrades everything from customs to religion, threatening - in my view- to obliterate both for the sake of banishing its accompanying evil. I am slow to judgment where I can be. I see and know that there are wonderful benefits to both religion and culture. Beautiful enriching life improving benefits. But when it comes down to the ideology, the day to day practices... if abuse is required for religion to thrive? My knee jerk reaction is do away with them both. What does Jesus even mean if in his name you beat and burn children to banish the spirits every other culture says you made up anyway?

I get incited by all of these news reports and OPB documentaries of foreign plights, and have nowhere to put the anger, compassion, motivation and adrenaline. What can I do about it? I'd travel there. People say its not safe and I can't go and I would listen and be afraid. I feel I wasn't raised a campaigner. I wouldn't stick with it, and I'd worry what people thought. I'd feel petty. That I don't really know, just fear mongering like the early earth day marches. I could do something for the people near to me, but they are neither starving or publicly beaten and ostracied. I help where I can... though I am not greatly social...

One thing I will do. When I'm all grown up and ready... hopefully with other things well taken care of. I'll adopt. Perhaps from abroad. Perhaps from the Democratic Republic of Congo, which I'm railing about presently. I found a website that helps facilitate adoptions from the DRC... perhaps when I'm above 25 I'll revisit.

Getting On With It

2009-05-19T23:58:00.000-07:00

My amazing future is made with an eclipsing quantity of now. My future is made with now. Now is me randomly absorbing information from the internet. Now could be practicing French. Now could be drawing something. Now could be refining clutter busting techniques. Now is feeling inspired yet unmotivated. Sometimes I don't feel like doing it now, but now is arguably forever.

Now is finding me hoping to make the best of my share of Now tomorrow.

Day Late Dollar Short Again

2009-05-19T16:09:00.000-07:00

Well... it is A Tuesday. Not the promised Tuesday... but pretty close. A friend flew in from southern California for the week so I ended up being distracted during the crunch time I usually use to finish everything. You know. The day before its due.

And so true to form, my poem about some of my school feelings, a week past due. Enjoy!

The Frustrated Educated

Soul crushing fluorescents buzzing away
Hours lamenting for I had to stay

To work on this work, never ending in kind
Bitter simplicity. Tired, pointless, and blind.

Each year I’d sit down, hopes all a flutter
Pick out the best classes, the cream and the butter

Welding I see, Always wanted to try.
Cooking and writing? Both I live by.

For all of my classes I get all a twitter
Forgetting the teachers are merely the sitters

Unintrigued by that which they teach
Or hating the students to which they preach

It never turned out like I wished it would
I never succeeded like I knew I could

I never found what I thought school could be
I always was too busy glaring at what I could see

Students and teacher who’d narry a care
How much is possible with the knowledge they share

School should ignite, interest and inspire.
Stroking up knowledge-thirsting desire.

Give me the tools I need to divine
What talents I have, what passion is mine.

To have a teacher who’s opinion I trust
To help me succeed, not in that which I must

But that which inspires ignites and the rest
That which I live by, not only just test.

Give me the knowledge to accomplish my dreams
Find me a school that is more than it seems.

Thanks for the assignment Ptcakes!

Rainbows

2009-05-06T00:57:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make. I always spell gray, 'grey'. I like how it looks better. I like the e better than a's. Also when I read it spelled gray, it always makes me want to strongly emphasize they 'AY' sound which then makes me look like I can't read.

Furthermore... I always want to spell 'color' as 'colour'. It just sounds spiffier. Like spelling 'theater' as 'theatre', its just plain cool.

Dictionary.com aknowledges that all these are words and correct spellings... but Firefox's spell check doesn't think so. Neither does Word, but my Word doesn't understand 'internet', so that's not suprising. Drives me crazy though.

Mission Accepted

2009-05-06T00:27:00.001-07:00

It seems the universe and also Ptcakes has answered my call. Ptcakes, the poem will be up on or before Tuesday the 12th. Thanks for the prompt!

As for the universe? If this muscly hairless yak, and this doe eyed woolly yakette got together and had a disembodied head for a child.

That disembodied-head-baby might grow up to look like this.

This cute lil fuzzy fellow, or maybe some otherwise colored derivative from is out line, may one day hang off the door of a youth group somewhere in Texas. Without reading my blog asking for assignments - I'm assuming anyway - Rob IMed me with the parameters. I got a bit carried away and finished it today. Emailed it to him about half an hour ago.

w00t for me!

Teach Me

2009-05-05T00:29:00.000-07:00

I hated school. From about 5th grade on it was the bane of my very existence. Even now dreams of returning give me a terrible sick feeling. I dread the very thought of mucking through that quagmire. I'm finding though, this teakettle might just need a fire at her toes to really whistle. I'm talking deadlines. Projects with a start and finish. And dare I say it.... Assignments. Yes, I cringe at the word, but it just might be necessary.

So my request falls to you. Give me an assignment. A hoop to jump through. A writing prompt. A picture project. A recipe, or better yet a recipe writing prompt! Whatever it be, I do it within a week and post. So give me a suggestion and dock me points if its late.

Not That It Hasn't Been Done

2009-05-02T23:53:00.000-07:00

So I stole this awesome link off of someones blog. And then found this project. I think I might try it. Or somehow integrate it into my cool someday to be completed maybe desk project that lives in the garage. This was posted and I think created by the folk at Crafty Nest. And they included instructions that I think even I could follow!

I might like a different desk design than the one I have for actual use... but maybe I could sell it? Its better than paying to take it to the dump.

I think I might like this desk design better. This thing called Design*Sponge seems to be pretty cool. Nothing left for me but to go to town on that desk.

Sudden Wishes

2009-04-30T20:40:00.000-07:00

I want to go antiquing. Find some wonderful bubbly strange necklaces and wear them like a freaking rock star.

The Pain

2009-03-08T21:46:00.001-07:00

Walking the dog I got a call on me cell phone. I answer. The number wasn't one I knew, my generic Banana Phone ring tone filled the air. I was offered a job on the spot. Didn't apply or anything. The girl I cater with suggested me to one of her friends I had met at one of our gigs. She started managing the ski lodge eatery a few months earlier and was desperately short handed. Having a big event coming up the next weekend she needed someone badly. So I take her number, lamely saying I have a pen and paper when, in fact, I do not. I grab Whit's cell phone and take it down.

Suddenly, the next Thursday, I'm up at 5:30 in the morning. An hour I had only glimpsed in late nights avoiding sleep with a book. And on through the hour-of-which-we-do-not-speak (the one before 8:00 I have a special loathing for). And on through the day. The ten hour day ends with me hating dishes, completely useless in the kitchen, and completely usesless when I get home, exhausted and limping. And cant even sleep because my mind keeps frantically firing, desperate to catch up with the day thats already gone.

Its not the best job, but I'm making money. I don't like getting up that early , or working that long, but they need me for a while. I'm already dreading next week, but I'm not going to do it much longer.

Its an experience and its probably good for me. I hate daylight savings. So this all is why I am otherwise not seen or heard. I have till Thursday off. Goodnight... or bye... or peace out. whatever I was going to close with before I forgot.

Portraits

2009-03-04T00:12:00.001-08:00

Do you ever see a picture of some stranger, and love it a hundred times more than any picture of yourself? If you look hard, her brow is a bit strong. Her eyebrows a bit short. She has a touch of flyaways at her crown... But you can forgive that. In fact, you almost don't even notice it. She looks comfortable or mysterious of thriving with personality. She has her style, her face, her hair. You don't know if she's nice or if she's happy or if she murdered someone for their sneakers... but for the moment looking at the picture your intrigued. Called into moment it was taken. Surrounded by the fantasy you create to fill the world that the frame cut off. She could be a model, a spy, an aspiring artist. Her room, house, car could look as cute and quirky as the dress she wears. The picture could be just a peice of her magical life...

Looking at my own picture I'm not nearly as forgiving. Not nearly as intrigued. I love what some photographers do with their self portraits. I love the idea of having hundreds of pictures of myself, in strange costume, imaginative poses, fantastical places. More than just snap shots, but artistic renderings where every peice is in its place, every bit thats not is amply forgiven, justified, celebrated. The flyaway adds to the glow, the strong nose gives character and interest, and the background is a doorway into another world. Then again, I can barely stand looking at any picture of myself. My chin, my eyes, my profile. They're wrong. Just here, or there. How can I show anyone if I can barely forgive it myself? Perhaps if I didn't looks so closely. Perhaps if I didn't know me.

Oh The Irony

2009-02-20T08:53:00.000-08:00

Yes. Its true. I'm up at 8:45 AM. And believe it or not (though there is textual proof out there) I was up even earlier, my alarm set to 7:30(7:39 if you count snooze). I was up and out of the shower by 8 o' clock. And then it turns out that the gig got cancelled, so I'm up at the butt crack of dawn, shivering on the deck giggling maniacally enjoying this rare treat of AM sun, for no coerced reason. And actually, even though I'm up this early for no reason, I'm a little glad. I haven't been sleeping anyway and this will revitalize my schedule without taking my whole weekend.

I think that the novelty of mornings, particularly those out of doors is a big reason I like camping. I dont like getting up every morning... and rushing to sit every morning in fluorescent lit purgatory never got me sold on it either. Its so much easier to just lay in bed and let the day slip past me, relishing the cool feel of smooth sheets on my legs, snippets of dream stories here and there, and the blissful feeling of utter content sleepiness. And having no particular appointment pushing me forward like the wall in Super Mario... why not indulge?

But another part of me says I could like mornings. As I sit hear listening to the chatter of crows, and migrating geese, fingers freezing in the rather chill breeze as I type, I find my self pleased. And imagining myself in other mornings, puppy playing about my feet, Pancake sunning herself on the steps, and perhaps this time gardening? Weeding or watering, checking and tending. Picking the berries before the chickens get them. Or bringing out tall glasses of pink iced with little sprigs of mint, to the lucky breakfasters up at the hour, on the deck. Yes, I think I could like mornings very well indeed. Possibly, in different ways, as much as I like late nights or the freedom of sleeping in, though nothing can beat the sheer joy elicited by staying in bed when your just that sleepy.

Why Is It

2009-02-19T23:53:00.000-08:00

I find it strange that I spend so much time and effort and excitement picking out what tomatoes and peppers I'll grow this year. Mostly... because I don't really like tomatoes or peppers. I'm better than I used to be in consuming them, tomatoes that is. I appreciate incredible advantages of garden tomatoes over store bought sponges. I enjoy some super tangy ones sliced super fine and drenched in salt. And I love ketchup and tomato sauce (ironically I don't include a sauce tomato in my garden...). But under it all... Its a slight battle with my gag reflex to eat them. I can tell a good one out of a bunch, and I can rave over the flavor and the unique qualities, but I don't naturally like tomatoes.

And peppers... I'm starting to like them better. Probably better than tomatoes in that I actively seek them out for additions into my foods. Roasted reds on my pizza... sandwich, anything. The depth and varieties of flavors are amazing. But really I'm only just starting to like them. (similar to mushrooms i guess)

I think the reason I like picking them out first and longest, and insist on planting them (tons of them) is simply for the sake of the variety. Its a food of connoisseurs. Like wine(which I don't drink so cant enjoy) or coffee (same dealio) or cheese or chocolate (which both I do very much enjoy).

Tomatoes and peppers, you can immerse yourself in a range of flavors and cultures types varieties uses that have huge yet delicate differences. With pea's you pick 11 seeds per pod or 8? Cheetos fluffy or crunch and maybe hot? Tomatoes... white, yellow, orange, black, purple, green, red, stripped, speckled, big small wrinkled, round, or tongue shaped. The size of a soft ball to the smaller than a grape. And we're just talking the look of the fruit! The flavors vary even more!

Goodness this must be boring... and I'll have to warn you there's more to come. Beans. Corn. Berries.... Hazelnuts? Run while you can!

They Come

2009-02-19T16:30:00.000-08:00

I've decided for the year of 2009 what tomatoes will grow in the garden. Well... that I hope will grow in the garden. Its easier said than done...

Anyway the tomato varieties are as followed, the first five seeds purchased from Peaceful Valley Farm & Garden Supply.

Paul Robeson - Black variety that one best of show once. Described as having "luscious, earthy, exotic flavors and good acid/sweet balance". I saw a lot of people recomending it or trying it so I wanted to jump on bord.

Kellogs Breakfast - A really big yellow one! Thought it would be kind of a stretch for me. It was top ten of one of Tomato Fest's Tomato Fests! It says it has a fantastic sweet/tangy flavor. And so we'll see. At least if it grows I'll be sure to recongize it!

Ananas Noir - The Black Pineapple! A Belgian heirloom with a French name who's flavor description on TomatoFest.com includes this tantalizing hopeful peice of rhetoric, "rich and delicious, full-bodied, sweet & smokey flavors with a whollop of acidity". You see its the acidity whollop I'm hoping for. I like tart tomatoes! And that completely drove the mater choices last year. Hopefully this one'll pull through.

Black Krim - My first black tomato, planted it last year. The only one of all 5 types I could identify. Very tasty flavor... which I cant really remember now... but I liked it. And it was very pretty too. And productive.

Stupice - Another favorite from last year... that is, if this is the one I think it is. I mean... I completely lost track of everything last year. Except the black krim. So... Fingers crossed! Its supposed to be very tangy with good tomato flavor. A red Czechoslovakian Heirloom!

Early Girl - Purchased as a plant from a local place. Probably Bi-Mart who takes TERRIBLE care of their plants, but they're cheap and easy to pick up cuz we shop their alot. These are the tomatoes of my childhood grown by my father as the "only ones that grow". And they do produce wonderfully, and I enjoy their bright clean tangy flavor.

(And maybe I'll sneak something else if its at the nursury. Shhh! Don't tell!) So thats at least 3 black tomatoes! And I was eyeing another two! And a yellow(two if you count the cherry), which I think I'm biased against. Only two reds. So thats what comes from picking randomly from 500+ varieties on the tomato fest website....

And for peppers... mostly from the Seed Savers Exchange

Beaver Dam! - Exylent flavor and mild hot in discripton (and beautiful color)A hungarian heirloom brought to Beaver Dam, Wisconsin in 1929 by the Joe Hussli family. They also made it onto the US Arc of Taste list for the Wisconsin region. I'm not sure the best ways to use it, but well try it out. And if its good? A great thanks to the Hussli family!

Chervena Chushka - Bulgarian heirloom traditionally used for roasting, or so the discription says which is why I picked it. It had the shape and use I was looking for. It says it has a very sweet pepper flavor, almost candy-like, which I'm a little put off by, but we'll see.

Sheepsnose Pimento - Bought one once. Look georgous, smelled great. It rotted before I got around to using it. I planted it last year... the deer stepped on the one plant, then possibly the dog stepped on it just to be sure it was dead. It even had green lil fruits on it. This year, maybe one will survive? It also made the Arc of Taste list in Ohio. Go figure. I pick em good.

Green/Rainbow Bells - I dont even know what varietes on these. The ranbow mix ones I got from Gurney's last year and maybe a pack of green organics from the store? These ones always actually get used! Salsa... and everything else.

Jalepeno - Might just by some plants on these ones, just to simplify stuff. Salsa... and this year I want to fill them with cheese and grill em! Oh, and maybe piclke some!

Purple Macaroni : (if I can refind last years seed packs. I never really got around to frying them : /

So there you are. This post took forever. And I haven't even started rambling about my secret corn and bean heirloom/open pollination trials, or english cucumbers red currants and musk strawberries! Soon my dears, soon. It will be an exciting year... if I dont let it all die once it gets hot. >.>

This Onto That

2009-02-17T23:19:00.001-08:00

So today was a strange procession of events, as I suppose most days are. I woke to the puppy yarping. Mom came home a little bit early for lunch, but I hadn't showered yet and because I cant function without a morning shower I went and took a really fast one.

When I cam back down I find she brought the mail. Which contained my long awaited Gentle Leader head collar for Midnight my stiff necked walking compadre . I fitted it up and took him out and he walked like a dream. As I was walking down the road beaming like a love sick lead in a musical, the check the owner had given me to pay for the collar slipped from my pocket. I had put the collar instructions in the same pocket and out it went when I consulted them. I of course didn't notice till 20 minutes later when, on our way back, Midnight made a point to sniff it. I guess it smelled of his lady.
And then I take a closer look as, chagrined, I pick it up, recalling her admonition of "don't loose it". Well turns out that it was for 50$ instead of 15$. A bit panicky - any fluctuation of social manueverings terrify me - I finish my walk, though nearly swooning as my dear sweet collar deftly out maneuvers Midnights attempt to greet/charge another dog.

I remind her it was "Only 15$" and that the check was for "quite a bit more..." and she replied with a well said, "I appreciate that your doing this. If I can pay it I will, if I cant I wont". In all honesty I was pretty grateful. I'm tying to go on a trip abroad and big savings are hard to come by when your unemployed and a recluse. And its sometimes quite hard to get out the door in the cold to be pulled around by an exuberant and set-in-his-ways pup. I appreciated it.

So when I got home I let puppy out and set about cooking. I was browning some butter so it could cool while I went to water the chickens. About half way through I decide I havn't seen puppy in too long.

Into the computer room... oh look she choked and chundered a lovely puddle. Amazingly its completely contained on my quilting cutting mat. As I go to rinse it all off and keep puppy from gurgitating her regurgitation... I see my butter boiling and overflowing on the stove. I rinse the last bit and grab it off as it continues to bubble over. Onto the burner which of course ignites. So I turn on the fan so it wont set the fire alarm off, cut the gas and stair bewildered at the foot tall flames burning themselves harmlessly out. So there's a big slick spot by the oven and greesy nobs on it and my rinsed mat is still in the kitchen on the floor.

While I was scrubbing the grease up I was very preoccupied in trying to decide if today was a 'good day'. I mean... the morning was great, dog walk, mom time and vegetable orders... the vomit burning butter less so... but the vomit was beautifully self contained, thats a plus! So I guess its balanced out one the up side.

The evening was a lil worse. Puppy did other unmentionables.... my cooking utterly failed even after a butter ressurection. I was late to play practice, almost forgetting alltogether... I kinda thought there wasnt any this week, only there was. So I guess were square even. An Ok day.

And Then

2009-02-16T02:06:00.000-08:00

I just remembered what I would have wrote if I hadn't gotten distracted in my back log of blog reading. I was going to philosiphize about how so many people are low energy. I mean... the ones who post for a week or a month or four times a day then vanish for months and come back with some sad and heartfelt promise to 'write more' and mention being 'behind in posting' and sometimes 'haven't done anything blarthy*'. And sometimes do keep up for a while before vanishing again.

And then there's the people who are high energy and blog like... 3 times a week every week! Forever! Or every day. On going. Their blogs are always current, and filled with stuff their actually doing. And often they have lots of readers because heck, they write!

And I think its such a bummer because I'd do cool stuff if I was a high energy person. And I dont know if you can change from being one of the here-and-there lazy-then-not type folk... Maybe its a dicipline thing and I can acheive it anyway. We can hope right?

*Blarthy - adj. Compilation of 'blog worthy'

Izzle Cold

2009-02-16T02:02:00.000-08:00

I'm cold. And its late. And I stayed up late last night driving myself crazy with garden stuff. And tonight I stayed up catching up on my peeps and their blogs. And I'd upload that funny picture of the puppy falling on her face, but maybe tomarrow and I go sleep now. So I might wake up tomorrow. That would be good.

I wish I'd stop trying to spell tomorrow tomarro. It just doesn't look right and even if you put the W on the end it still isn't spelled right.

Naughty Puppy

2009-02-15T00:56:00.000-08:00

Dear heavens what have I gotten myself into?! Pansy, hiding in the off-limits piano room, under the ottoman, eating Alex's heart shaped valentine sucker, thinking you cant find me! And indeed it took me 3 times in the room and a trip upstairs before I did figure it out.

And yess thats my thumb in the side sending her mixed messages, feeding her sugar and staging the photo I missed when I ran to grab my camera. -_-

When I'm Grown

2009-02-14T00:33:00.000-08:00

There are so many things I envision for my future self. My realized awesome achieved comfortable-in-my-own-skin centered self. I want to be active, ready to run out the door on a moments notice to go on a hike or a bike ride. I want to be able to whip out mad food on a moments notice without a thought and be able to entertain fabulously while being entertained. I'd love to be globetrotting, bilingual, and compassionate. Community involved and a devoted hard working volunteer. I want to develop my own style and feel comfortable with it.

And too, I want to fix some things. I want to be over my mental blocks that stop me from trying things. I want to be able to converse with the greatest of ease without freezing or stumbling in awkward shyness. To not panic when I call someone knew or run into someone unexpectedly or send an email. I want to be more patient. More punctual. More conscious of my dealings with people as persons and individuals instead of boxed character traits. I want to be less lazy, more energetic, and ready to work hard and persistently.

And things I want to gain. A wonderful flexible enriching money making activity, be it a bakery or books or some amazing opportunity or passion I don't know of yet. I want to have a big lovely garden, and a wonderful life facilitating inspiring home. I want to have dogs. I want to have all sorts of animals and the fortitude and energy to care for them all well.

And somewhere in all of this I want to adopt. I want to adopt a waiting child, who's life hasn't given them the best it has to offer. And I want to be there for them, unwaveringly, unfailing, always and forever no matter what. And I pray that when I'm all grown up, I'll have the patience and the love and the selflessness and consciousness and energy and support and fortitude and everything else I need to be a Mom for them.

It... GROWS!

2009-01-18T22:55:00.000-08:00

After we got the mutt fed and watered... it turned out the pup wasn't as mild tempered as she appeared, shivering and alone stuck behind that bush. Nope. Once she got food and water she became her true self, a holy heck raiser of epic proportion.

And you can really tell from these pictures! I mean look at her! Sleeping on the pillows like she OWNS them!

Night Of The Freezing Fog

2009-01-15T18:03:00.000-08:00

I'm still light years behind other photographers... but I thought this one was kind of cool. Have to click on it to see the whole pic.

I Got A Puppy! I Got A Puppy! I Got A Puppy! Hey Hey Hey Hey!

2009-01-07T19:10:00.001-08:00

This morning dawned sadly, tossing and turning in my sleep with a tear evoking dream about my Carson. I woke breifly with tears in my eyes. I had been petting her. Spending time with her... and then it struck me that it was past. Too late to pet her silky neck flaps and tousle her ears. I miss her so much. She was a beautiful sweet kind mischievous friend and nothing can ever replace her.

I miss too though, having a dog at all. I'm not one to be stingy with doggy love, or to clam up with heartache forever. I'm prepared to give some love, maybe a puppy and maybe too a adopt-a-dog. I've been asking for weeks...

An hour or so later Mum woke me again, this time with a call. A call for puppies. Free labs had been advertized on the radio that morning. We drove out a little before noon. Three were already gone... and there was a really really handsome boy, but meet our girl.... (no name).

Ohmugosh... Its Like An Death March

2008-11-28T02:11:00.001-08:00

So I found this wonderful website with all these nekkid folk for drawing. Now before you get all worried and appalled that I'm looking at pornography and drawing indecent poses, note that these nekkid folk are animated and also have no skin. And having no skin obviously makes it better and not porn. Besides, its artistic. So... its like I'm in art school only better. And skinless animated models don't have any skin for unsightly growths and lots of hair. Win win.

As for the poses being decent... thats entirely up to the composition obviously. Aside from a Michael Jackson pose, and a "hand drawer tool" that ebbs a bit David on the first pic... its kosher. And its been kind of helpful as Ive been using all of their various poses, angels, and muscley folk.

But I've found the most terrifying thing on their website, even more so than the creepy skinless faces and really robust bums the models have. Thirty Second Drawing. And yeah... they do give you other time limits to try - 10-90 seconds in varying increments- and yeah... it probably shouldn't be that scary. Well...

Even I was cool to try it. I set it at 45 seconds... and start going. First pose... missed a limb. Second pose. Most of it there. Third... she didn't need that leg anyway. Fourth... woah.. drawing chest from below O.O . Fifth... I'm drawing less and less. Sixth... I'm panicing a little more now. Seventh... they come so fast. Eighth... I've run out of this page, quick grab a new one before. Onward and onward. I'm waiting for it. I'm waiting for it to stop. For the test to be over. To go back and look at what Ive drawn. Finish those I've missed. Waiting. Panicking. Can't... hold... on... much longer.

And then I realize. Its not going to stop. It doesn't. It just keeps on going. Pose after pose. Minute after minute. Wearing me down with each rushed pose. Turning a broken pencil lead into an adrenalin rushed catastrophe. There is no winning. There is no end. Defeat is the only option. I realized....

Ohmugosh... its an artistic death march.

Yeah. Hows that for scary? I said DEATH MARCH. Yeah. Terrifying. I think one day it would be really fun to author/draw a comic. Or... American manga. Because I'd write a story, not necessarily funny. So calling some dark angsty comic a comic, is a bit... troublesome. Not that my comic/manga wouldn't be funny, or would be extensively dark... But... never mind I give up.

I draw. I try to write. I cook big foods. I feel hurt neck. End.

Hairs

2008-11-21T01:07:00.000-08:00

I'd like to say Whit's blog inspired this... but it was an alde underexposed college pic. There's no nudity, but my hair looks really dark, and I was wondering if I should black it up again some.

I always think its a great idea till I've taken off the dye and my hairs all funny feeling, and I'm thinking, 'my gosh! Why did I do this to you sweet sweet hair?'. I do that every time I cut it though, and ESPECIALLY when someones cutting it with those razor thinner things. Or that one time that really good but expensive hair stylist told me that mini bangs would look good, so I believed her, till she started cutting them, but then I started screaming "oh no, what are you doing? what have you done? Why did you do this?" only it was in my head because you don't want to startle people who have scissors by your face, even though mini bangs are no wear near your tender eye flesh, and also because there was already no taking it back. If there were a happy ending to the mini bangs story I'd tell you, but sadly my mini bangs turned into an overpopulated gang of flyaways that terrorized my dreams of attractiveness and gave me flashbacks to elementary school where 50% of my hair was categorized as flyaways, possibly caused by my chronic reliance on pony tails.

I'm thinking I might like having a more dark and fancifully striking brunette locks to set off my pale complexion and make me look even more awesome mysterious fantasy babe. Preferably not making me look all sallow toned, and also I'd like some nice variation instead of unnaturally solid black.

Windows Vista search engine works like its blind. I'm completely on my own here. It can't even find my name on the computer. Anywhere. Ignoring that I name many many things after her Magnificence.

Brownies And Cheesy Bread Unseen

2008-11-21T00:15:00.000-08:00

I like taking self portraits with my camera phone. It's not great quality, but this works in my favor bleaching and blurring out all details favorable or otherwise. The 'otherwise' parts really important to this, see. With all of that blurred to obscurity... my blurry image is pretty darn fine.
Like here.

Or here.Course here the blurring makes me look like a mouse with my wisdom teeth out. I mean... I don't look like this normally... no. I don't. Really.Blurry mouse pictures aside, I think Gaston may just be one of my many and strange heroes.

Also, the freeze scene for the clip makes him even cooler.

Failing Project Awesome

2008-11-19T23:07:00.000-08:00

I need some structure, because, while I've been saying, "I could structure this way better AT HOME" since I was very first enrolled in school, tummy rumbling because it wasn't snack time yet, I never really do structure myself. And I've found increasingly of late that if I don't have something I cant procrastinate, like dentist appointments, store closing times, or scheduled court dates, I don't find it worth waking up. At least, not on time anyway, because why do something unpleasant like waking up early or regularly when you don't really have some guillotine hovering above you?

Well that's what I used to think. Well I still do think that waking up sucks, but its becoming distracting, making me look like a dead beat, and totally ruining my attempts at project awesome. I apparently am off the clock from being awesome once the kids get home at about 3:30, and if I wake up at noon, take my lunch break, and shower that gives me only one hour of awesome, and I want to be full time awesome.

To exponentially increase(because that's the only increment in which awesome can increase) my chances of awesome I need to wake up sooner. And while I thought that my sleeping was caused by normal things like poor sleep hygiene and the scheduling desolation that consumes my days (which it totally is), I'm not so sure anymore. I can sleep through alarms, sunrises, and even really insistent firm speaking thought commands that even the Nanny would be proud of. I've been thinking of alternate methods, mostly resorting to space bags of highly concentrated caffeinated beverages within a groggy arm's reach, or illegal use of riddlin, which I don't have so it would be entirely impractical, and I don't think that doctors are as likely to prescribe stimulants "cuz can't wake up in the morning" as they are to give me sleeping pills, "cuz I cant fall asleep at night". But those space bags... I'm onto something there.

I guess I could try inverting my schedule. I've always wanted to try... stay up as late as I could, sleep all day, then stay up even later, maybe till noon the next day... I think it would only take two or three days to somersault it completely. And both sleeping in and staying up late are comparatively easy to going to bed on time and waking up earlier.
I

Vice

2008-11-19T00:48:00.000-08:00

We were watching Oprah's show about the world's most talented kids the other day. When Mother pointed out how cool that girl with the hula hoops and techno tune was Alex squeaked disagreeably, in a way only Alex can. This squeaking is usually frowned upon, being discord incarnate, had Mom threatening to turn it off altogether. Alex insisted on watching though. In truth I understood how she felt the moment I saw her face as she watched. When asked about it later she said, "I have no talents".

I've felt that way hundreds of times. As a child watching TV talent shows, spelling B's, kids acting. Now, still, presently. When I look at amazing blogs, photography, drawings, home made food stuffs, or peoples books/stories. I feel so incredibly jealous. So very envious and disappointed in my self. Its more about myself than them in these cases. I think, 'why can't I do that'? 'what do they have that I don't?' 'can I even get it? or is it genetics or natural talent or motivation?'

I, like Alex, ignore arguments against our feelings. Sure, being a Spelling B genius really doesn't appeal to me that much. And that kid who can do perfect ballroom dance or a master violin player may be under huge parental pressure. But still. They're great. They're my age (or younger in my case). They're on Oprah. And with whatever undeveloped skills we may have... we're not.

I can't buy artistic skill, but I want to. Maybe its because they have this lense... or went to this school. Maybe its because they practice. That probably is a huge amount. I think I do have talent and brains, but what am I missing? What makes them practice? What makes them better and how can I ever achieve that? If I want to speak 5 languages, play the cello, and write a book, can I if I'm not driven in the same way I am with cooking? Am I even driven with cooking?

I guess I don't feel driven. I don't feel overly motivated. I don't feel constant. And I don't feel great. Great as in totally awesome, great.

I guess I'm supposed to set goals. And work hard. And practice. -_-

I Tell You

2008-11-18T00:22:00.000-08:00

What I'm not sure. It probably wasn't important anyway. My head hurts, and I'm still stuffy and congested from my cold. The stagnant sort of congestion that just never goes away, makes it hard to breath and gives me a headache. Sure they could be completely separate symptoms, the headache and the congestion, but I think not. I'd be much happier if one or the other were gone, though if I had to choose, I'd get rid of the congestion first. Not only to test my theory of 'I'm congested therefore I have headache' but also because in this case I think pain is a lesser evil than annoyance and discomfort.

I've been on an anime binge lately. To the tune of last week I watched an entire 26 episode series. In a day. I still cant speak Japanese, which is to be expected, but I've been using 'demo' instead of 'but' accidentally. I think the binge may be nearing its end for a while though as I'm having trouble picking out a show I feel like watching. I only watched 3-4 episodes today.

In my spare time I got my passport photo, made some rice crispy treats, and baked the ever-loving snot out of a coconut custard filled kabocha squash. I forgot it was in there, didn't set the timer cuz I didn't know how long it would take but figured probably over an hour. I was going to check after dinner, but then I went to get my passport photo. They lost the passport camera thingy they use though, so it took about 20 or so minutes to get it... and then I forgot for about another hour... and well, the custard is sort of over coagulated, and the squash, breathing a relieved sigh as I finally took it out, slumped into a bit of a squashy custard topped puddle, but it wasn't blackened or charred in anyway, and I think that's pretty darn close to perfect.

In my other spare time, {because as it turns out I have a lot of spare time} I looked at online college courses to maybe fill some of my spare time. I was thinking maybe a creative writing class to get my mojo on. A history class would be kind of fun too. They have one about medieval Irish history that sounded pleasantly different. Problem is their university courses with credit so they come out being $400+ each, which I don't have, but could get financial aid or loans for I guess, but that would be a lot of work for just one or two classes.

Turns out a lot of what I want to do needs money... Get my passport. Buy some culinary textbooks. Take some classes. Flee the country to southeast Asia for some gallivanting, because fleeing the country is way better than 'leaving' or 'going on a vacation'. Buy a 3/4 guitar cuz my hands are small, buy a violin because their chic {and that little kid on Oprah looked so styling with his prince shirt and lusciously tousled locks}, or a cello because I may like the sound better and I guess I wont let having small hands stop me. Or a banjo because they're just flat out cool.

And probably some other stuff, because there always is something you cant remember until it doesn't matter anymore, or you'll forget by the time it does matter again. Anyway, goodnight.

Ore Wa Mou Hittori Ja Nain Da!

2008-11-11T00:33:00.000-08:00

You know how a few posts ago I mentioned I had a crush on the Baron from The Cat Returns? Now I know, I'm no longer alone! Others too have fallen to his good looks, charm and chivalry.

This amv is a bit long winded, but notice if you take the time to watch it... or better yet! If you ever watch the movie, notice how the Baron takes care of Haru and you may fall for him too.

Every guy should make his girl feel safe/protected, special/confident and worth it/not a burden. (Sorry for the /'s. Trying to capture complete feelings in words is nearly impossible >.<)

Digimon Are The Champions!

2008-11-10T20:34:00.000-08:00

I'm introducing the children to a childhood favorite. If I had magical powers, or musical talent, I would cover this song, complete with techno beat, operatic accents and some vamping. Whatever vamping means. It all over Pandora and according to my song preferences, I seem to like it. Anyway... brings back memories.

Fine Dayz

2008-10-31T00:39:00.000-07:00

Oh, the weather outsides delightful. Its the gnats. They're something frightful.
When the beautiful fall days roll in... you know, the ones just crisp enough to call for a jacket. Warm and sunny enough to be outside, but chill enough your not sweaty. The beautiful golden light of the afternoon. The changing leaves. Those fall days. When they come to this town, you wear a beanie. Out of desperation. They get in your hair, in your mouth, up your nose, down your shirt. You name it, they'll find a way to infiltrate as the air they command.
Individually, they're kind of pretty. Arctic ocean blue with a touch of frost blue fuzz. They look like snow. (Maybe that is why they call them Snow Gnats?)

Do You Ever Wonder Why You Thought It Was A Good Idea At The Time?

2008-10-28T01:01:00.001-07:00

Say, running a bake sale by yourself or having people over for dinner that you don't know well enough to make steady conversation. Or volunteering to do twelve different theatre jobs, while also acting in a volunteer play. Or say for Halloween, making custom anime theme themed costumes for the kidlets. And starting a week before Halloween*.

Tanner, shall be Link erring on the Twilight Princess side.

Alex shall be Toph from Avatar: The Last Air Bender (an honorary anime)

I've just itemized the individual tasks required... its daunting.

But good news, since I started writing this blog I've finished(ish)*** Alex's costume to working order! She'll be strutting her stuff for her fellow school comrades. Though she doesn't think anyone will know who she is (except Brandon because he has an avatar tshirt with the avatar, and Momo and stuff) I think she'll be pleasantly surprised. After all, she'd be the only kid I know without some sort of subscription tv, and while I had to plunder the internet to expose the twerps to the wonder of Avatar, most kids probably just watch it on tv.

I'll admit, its not up to grande cosplay level, but tell me what kid gets to go as their favorite cartoon character? When the cartoon doesnt even make costumes for the fan? I'll tell you who! Alex! And hey, for making up my patterns from chopped up tshirts and (perfect but) way over sized patterns, sewn by a presumptuous novice. Its smokin!**

*Well what do you expect? I don't work without impending doom and deadly deadlines. Don't worry kids. There's a lot, but your handy ole sister will pull through! I think. {Don't worry Mom, the 'I think' was just for thorough honesty, not actual doubt.}

**In a, its so hot/awesome/stellar sort of way. Not a druggy sort of way. Say no to smoking!

***Finished(ish) as in she's got the essentials covered. Head and torso, everything else is cake. The wrist and ankle things will come in a bit. Tanner's gloves and stuff probably too... I only have till Friday! Eep!

Its Kinda Like A Roller Coaster Only Everything Takes Forever And You Tend To See It Coming

2008-10-26T23:30:00.000-07:00

I feel like a stump. Not the cool kind of moss covered tree stump with sprouts growing out the side and little creepy crawlies running condos in my bowels. I feel like a regular boring motionless lifeless stump. Earlier this week I was feeling almost pumped up and inspired and motivated. I did stuff. Heck, earlier today I made Somoas(the girl scout cookies) completely from scratch! Other than milking the cows for their sweet sweet butter and such like agricultural endeavors, I did it all. I have stuff I need to do by Thursday, {of course you were right about the procrastination thing Abby, Mom, anyone else who thought about the project and my involvement}. I think I'll be able to get it done.

And I'll feel stoked, like I did when I finished my apron, or drew that cool fashiony sketch I did, or finished that blog I'd been meaning to post{Prickles}. I'll feel great for a bit. And maybe those are like the little stump sprouts. but I'm still mostly stumpish.

I've been feeling so restless. I think I need to learn something. Desperately. I need to be learning, much more and much faster than I am right now. What's more, I want to be taught. Puzzling things out and reading internet opinions isn't doing it for me at the moment. I want a text book. I want a teacher. I want to take this mojo to the next level!

My writing, my cooking, my photography. I'm stuck in begining amature mode. Not even an especially gifted amature. I'm so tired of being a boring mediocre stump that's passed by, so the really note worthy special stumps can get all the pictures taken of them because they look all natural stump chic with the sprouts and the moss and the creepy crawlies. They probably even have some cool anphibian water park to draw all the biologists too.

(Taken by Darren Bradnick)

Danget! You wont pass this stump by any longer! But then again, I'm just a stump out in the boonies with no visual currencies, stumpish moss/critter skills, or the courage to seek them.

So what do I need to be great? To learn it all? To live it? Experience? Is it money? Courage? Inate ability? Confidence? Some sort of cliche life-lesson to realize its a little of all of it and more?

Just annoyed, restless, stubborn, frustrated and seeking some clear easy answer that probably won't exist just to spite my lazy nature.

Not pictured: the stump I feel like at the moment, because no one takes pics of boring stumps...

///-

I Am Not Entirely a Person Who Starts Projects and Never Finishes Them

2008-10-26T00:39:00.000-07:00

Ladies and gentlemen, families and friends, internet buddies and blog stalkers(some blogger's have em anyway... I figure it must be like an awesome blog accessory friend award of internet success or something.). Yes, all parties present. the moment you haven't been waiting for, because you either A) forgot I was even doing this still, or B) didn't know I was doing this because I never mentioned my original intent (dating back about a year(or so)). Yes, the moment you probably haven't been waiting for has arrived. No, its not passenger trips to the moon, or a ban on high fructose corn syrup in beverages. No that has nothing to do with me. Nothing to do with me... or my mad skills.

Mad skills you ask? Ah, I knew it would perk your interest. Yes. I got mad skills. Not crazy skills, or angry skills, mad skills, which I hope isn't a mixture of crazy and angry... then I'd prefer crazy of course, because they are much more congenial than angry people. But not even crazy people have skill like this.

After spending a year with a defunct machine, and in need of some white muslin(no joke. they don't sell any sort plain cheap whitish cloth in this town. Unless, maybe, you wrap dead game in it.) After all that time, I went to a real fabric store for some costuming supplies, got what I needed (white fabric and a tie), borrowed a sewing machine, (thanks Abby!) and got this baby out of the way for some real costuming this week.

So here she be, my cute flair skirted apron. With a sort of purple fern pattern and creamy pink floral accents.

And the cute bow tie in the back.
And it is of course, reversible.
It still hangs a bit stiff, having three layers of fabric all smushed in there together. After some use, maybe it will relax? Delicate not-splattering-bacon-grease use. More like.. make a batch of puff pastry, rolling pin in hand and just a touch of flour on my nose, cheek and/or a smidge on my eyelashes, because regardless of possible eye health issues its hot. In a cute way. Uber cute. Like my apron. Word!

So next time I whip up some delicious almond filled crousants, or maybe rose jelly filled danish... imagine this.

Dang Asians With Their Mad Skills

2008-10-23T01:23:00.000-07:00

Not only do they have awesome hair, really cute knees/legs and a pretty fine fashion sense, but now we find they have their own squat.

I think I've utilized both squats... but I think the Asian squats may just be more comfortable!

Do you do squat?

I Wonder

2008-10-20T13:31:00.000-07:00

I was movie sleuthing on some UK movie critic website, hoping to find that Angelina Jolie's new movie didn't really deserve and R rating, when I got distracted and started looking at animated film ratings. They had a top 50 list, which was horribly weighted, (Toy Story 2 was number one, followed by Snow White). Classics are great, but I'm telling you if they published a new movie with the quality of the Disney classics, it would flop faster than a flapjack flipping lumberjack. (It makes no sense but its ridiculously fun to say) Nostalgia alone shouldn't skyrocket movies to the top!

Anyway somewhere in the top 10-20 ish I got hooked by Persepolis. The animation was different, and I had never heard of it. So I looked up some trailers and this led to that and as I was reading more into the details of Iran's injustices, I found this.Its easy read the list and shake my head in consternation at those darn crazy governments, but really miss the ultimate meaning of how that effects the individuals involved.

I think most people know that there are unsightly, cruel and unjust things abounding in many parts of the world. I don't usually delve deeply into the details of all the places and situations my head has associated with being somehow "bad". I don't really know what exactly or how bad it is. I don't know how to fix it, even if I know its not right. Its profoundly sad. Today my heart goes out to Iran. And I wish with Iran, and many other parts of the world, that I knew what was going on, that I knew just how it affected the people involved, and that I could have the wisdom to improve it. And the courage to do it.

Revelations

2008-10-20T01:06:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning past, at the charming hour 5 am, to a sudden realization that in the past 5 hours of sleep I had suddenly developed a cough and lost half of my voice. Now 20 hours later, (thinking it would be witty to number the hours I just spent 5 minutes attempting to use reason to decipher it but gave up and counted it with my fingers. I'm so smart I didn't even have to use my toes.)

Yes, anyway. Twenty hours later I have almost lost my voice. Not that I don't have a voice at all, just not mine. I'd say I sound like a man but I don't quite. Just a really husky woman. Just one step of gravel too husky to sound hot. But if I could speak in some sort of east coast accent I bet it would be kind of amusing. Of course, much like now as I'm mumbling to myself to listen to this voice that comes out, I wouldn't have anything to say in an New York accent even if I could consistently produce one.

And to think... Earlier I was totally hitting the high notes singing along with the Take On Me video. (If by hitting them I mean making strange off key squeaky noises sporadically while it was playing)

Hats Off To!

2008-10-16T01:55:00.001-07:00

Blog surfing I found the Bloggess. Its two in the morning, and I didn't get very far in her blog, but its amusing. And... I feel she gave me this. Which, like her, I can't stop watching.

Ever wish songs just sang what was happening in the music video? Well now they do.

Hand comes out. Sketchy arm!

I can't get over how awesome this is. Its even an amazing cover-like-thing. I may like it better than the original.

Snails Pace

2008-10-14T14:16:00.000-07:00

Maybe a snail moves so slow, because he's got all the time in the world. I know I work that way. If I have time I slow down to a snails pace. Suddenly something that takes me ten minutes lasts an hour. Something that takes an hour of hard work takes an eternity. Each day only a small effortless peck toward completion, lasting no more than a moment.

As much as I hate being rushed, its hard to motivate myself without an impeding doom of some sort. If its hard or at all requiring concentration or extended effort, why not put it off till I feel like it? This procrastination lasts so long, that I never really dive in. Like crossing a ditch, but you don't want to get wet today. Crossing a ditch, but then you need to find your swimming suit, and bring a towel, and you have no idea where either is, and where do you change back into your clothes on the other side? Plus swimming suits are uncomfortable!

I become so put off by getting into the work, onto the horse, that I cant even tell how much work I really have to do. Or even how difficult it may be. If I never mount up, how can I really move forward? No matter how many times I stand by the ditch, or look at that horse, I'm still not moving forward!

Anyway, I have sewing to do (three projects put off anywhere from 1 year to 2 weeks (excluding that one project that I'm not going to mention)). I have cleaning to do, e-cleaning and house cleaning. Picture to print. Books to write. Picture's to take. Awesome to become.

Isn't it amazing when you see someone do something on accident, that completely knocks your socks off? These pics were taken by 6 year old Alex. And I seriously considered claiming them as my own....

Ugh

2008-10-12T22:09:00.000-07:00

I'm a bit ill at the moment. Feel a bit like I slept in a drying machine. No worries though, because it doesn't seem to last very long. At least, it didn't last very long for everyone else in the family who had it before me. Till then, your on your own.

Under the Weather by Artyarta

Epiph-a-licious!

2008-10-10T00:27:00.000-07:00

As I'm surfing the net, looking for some amazing epiphany that will revolutionize my photographic skills into epic National Geographic proportions, I'm learning some random facts about my camera. Maybe if I had really in depth researched my model, I would have know before hand the LCD screen shuts off when you put your face up to the eye piece. Heck, if I paid attention I might have noticed it by now.
One small epiphany came after reading this about the mode dial.

"A top-deck control switch lets you choose among the standard four exposure modes: Metered Manual, Aperture-priority, Shutter-priority, and Program autoexposure.The same switch has "idiot modes" labeled with small icons, such as a running guy."

Dang. Stupid article. How dare it defame my 'running guy' and 'tulip' modes! But my mind keeps telling me, if I really do want my photographs to be transformed into epic proportions, I'm going to need to do some work. Like using said mode dial more judiciously. Even the manual half of it.

Better get these gams to work! Set the course of life to a photographic walkabout about town, and maybe.... just maybe, I'll progress beyond a lucky point and shooter.

(No clue on the picture.)

And... oh-muh-gosh. How can people dance in 3.5" heels?!

Snarls The Cat

2008-10-08T14:49:00.000-07:00

When it comes to my dear cat snarls... If looks could kill, we'd already be dead.

Prickles

2008-10-01T23:56:00.000-07:00

"Cash isn't king if it doesn't do anything," says Warren Buffet as I sit here, back cramping, half watching OPB's Charlie Rose. I hate this show. At best its... interesting. The sort of interesting you might find in reading marine life statistics. The boring sort of interesting that leaves you with a headache and half the energy you started with.

But I agree with Warren in that quote. About half of my extended family don't understand it. Instead of buying a few acres of land in the valley like they always meant to, or buying that house that looks like a castle (which turns out I had been pining after years before I found out they could have bought it)... instead of ever using the money they gathered to achieve dreams, or improving their quality of life, they saved. And kept on saving. And saving. And when Grandpa died of a heart attack, years before I was born, his savings went away. And Grandma saved and saved and saved... and hasn't ever used money to do anything more than to buy herself some Pepsi.

Its frustrating to have had hundreds of thousands of dollars, and just let inflation, inheritance, and medicare bills whittle it away.

Not trying to be bitter, but I tend to 'what-if' dream a lot. What if I won the lottery(if i played)? What if I had the inheritance my fore family mismanaged? What if they had used it to make their lives happier? Would they be less prickly?

A wreath my grandmother made. Interesting. Crafty. Prickly. Like the pillowy quilt she made {and accidentally left several pins in}. Like the woman who made them. Prickly...

It stabbed me no less than 3 times when I was taking this picture. It just gives me malicious vibes.

In Other News

2008-09-30T01:16:00.000-07:00

I think I have a crush on the Baron from the Cat Returns.

Exploring

2008-09-30T01:00:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when I start to reminisce, I run into things in my past that I can't believe I ever did or tried. Like sewing a Link costume for Tanner in preschool. How did I ever attempt it? Or know enough to finish it? Something I remember feeling confidently stoked at the time, but can only think of now with a wash of embarrassment. Like doing an eatery bar for the Shakespeare play in high school. A very few others I remember as being terrible, but really weren't that bad. Like this story I just dredged from my document files. It isn't half as bad as I remember it, if a rough and nonsensical. And it was a story rendering of a dream I had so its confusing factors are forgiven.

Later in my hard drive exploration I came across a piece called "Doubting". I remember about the time I wrote it, but much of how I felt hasn't altered a great deal. I thought I articulated it pretty well. And so... I wanted to share it. Its focused on writing. Namely a book. But it applies somewhat wider.

"The words flow from my fingers disjointed and foolish. I feel disgusted by their presence. That I could create something so pointless disgruntles me. How could I ever create something of the popularity or magnitude of today’s know authors? Who am I to even try? Of course I am indoctrinated with the litanies of self belief spouted by everyone from Oprah to The Secret. But how much do I really believe it? You can do it! Can I? How do you know? How would I ever start? How could I ever attain the finesse, enchanting simplicity, and the ingenious plot intricacy I admire and in the same piece convey the depth of emotion and image I require? And to think of the three hundred pages to fill boggles. The myriads of disjointed nonsensical wonderings that I have created – and lost to computer failings- have never lengthened more than five pages. I believe I never have breached ten in any style. The chorus of “you can do it” chanting in my head ring false. How can I truly believe I can do something when hither to fore I have not? I’m young yes, but its not like I haven’t been trying this for a while."

Rumble, Bumble and Can!

2008-09-26T00:49:00.000-07:00

I thought it would be a charming idea to post a bit about my grandmother and her crafty gifts... but I haven't loaded the picture.

I thought it would be charming to make some pickled beans and maybe some plum jam... and now look where that got me! But wait... You cant look... 'cuz I haven't posted that either, have I?

And now as I'm, tummy rumbling, head aching, eyelid drooping, facing of a massive pile of peeled, but otherwise unprocessed tomatoes.... at... oh look, its one it the morning! Is not that charming too...

Well I don't have the time to really do much more than say hi and explain why I'm not posting more. Though I am writing to demonstrate that I did feel like posting. And to get really crazy, for all of my avid readers sitting on the edge of their seat, a quick "what wonderful things Taryn's been up to!" update!

Punctuating periods of inactivity (bumbling) with maniacal bouts of canning.

Liking Tango, a lot.

Missing Carson... a lot.

It Takes Shoes To Tango

2008-09-23T09:40:00.000-07:00

A Tango class in town, and Portland's Tango Fest on the horizon... I've got Tango on the mind - as many of the newly infected do. I'm itching for a partner to practice with and craving a lead I can understand. I'm training Alex for future dances.... so far she just wraps her arms around me and tells me to spin. I think there's hope!

Having Tango on the brain, I've been looking up a lot of Tango clips on YouTube. I've been watching how wonderful the dancers look. I've been watching their feet glide across the floor... the intricate footwork, sliding steps and amazing kicks. And of course... the shoes.
And I don't mean any shoe. I mean the perfect shoe for dancing Tango shoe. I mean a leather soled shoe for move-ability and slick slides. I mean heels, three inch standard. I mean hot and cute and perfect.
Really! Experienced dancers know you need several pairs of shoes! While a range of shorter and more user friendly heels is recommended, taller ones tend to be cuter. I personally find my current skill at actually walking or dancing in these shoes completely irrelevant.
Darcos Tango shoes for about $135 each? Those cute red and black leather ones for $140 from the Tango Shop? They're even custom built to your measurements and specifications. If I'm going custom... maybe some of the fab ones from Jorge Nel Dance Design, like Libertad, starting at $110. Do I go georgous 3 inch? Or something dance-all-night friendly?

The choices! The possibility! The complete lack of funds! In the end... I may just go with some $60 leapord satin ones from ekClothing.

Then I can get on to puzzle what to wear with my fantastic footwear. Maybe something sleek and swaying like this?

Swinging Olde Timey Soiree

2008-09-21T23:08:00.000-07:00

As fall seeps its way into my days - a scarf here, an umbrella there - I'm only just starting to get into the mood. Its been a rough transition this year. I didn't get to do all I had hoped to this summer. Tubing and camping mostly... but a few other things. Before I knew it summer's unbearably hot days had left me with pleasantly cool, but un-tube-camp-able days.

Now that Martha's Halloween issue is out... I'm going to have to accept that fall is basically here.

If I had millions of dollars, acreage, a wonderful orchard... and lets throw in a mansion or a log cabin for aesthetics, I would invite all of you over to a aulde timey event, Apple Butter Day.

We'd wake up early in the chill of the morning to start up the hard wood fire in the pit in the back yard. Mount up the big 30 gallon copper kettle, and toss in the prepped apples (peeled and chopped the night before with much talk and laughter) some apple cider and start cooking.

All day people would come and linger and go, filling up on hot chocolate and apple cider set on a weathered picnic table, taking turns stirring the simmering pot. We'd chat and reminisce and laugh. Rave over the delicious smell of the steaming butter. The kids could run and play in the falling leaves, dip hands in the ice cold stream, and we could all warm ourselves by the fire.

We'd bundle up in a scarf, beanie and mittens, rosey cheeked in crisp fall air. And as hosts stick out the whole day, stirring chatting, refilling mugs and having a blast. Then we'd bottle it all up, and give it, along with a card and cute wrapping, to all of our helpers for Thanksgiving.

One swinging olde time soiree for sure.

Light Switch Down

2008-09-18T21:55:00.000-07:00

I'm off today. Today... yesterday... the whole week before that. Just off. Can't write, can't cook, can't draw, and have been having the darnedest time just trying to think.

I've written two half finished blogs about different aspects of Tango and me, am currently wanting to write one about my food co-op foray, and am waiting to pounce on a couple of foodie projects, which of course if finished will supersede the apricot tart I made last week, and the peach pie thats in the oven (with an aggravatingly soggy TOP crust... it wont cook! Its like warm soggy dough...).

Off, and everything I get the urge to do gets muddled in my cloudy head and cluttered existence. When things get muddled they loose their sparkle and zest and eventually die as never finished, never tried ideas. Inspiration with no hospitable outlet left to slowly vanish, blowing away in the wind of thought as easily as they came.

I've gotten a few goals finished, and a few up and coming. I've written them all down so many times, even that has become stale. Yet because I'm obsessive compulsive, and maybe want some obligatory sense to complete them by telling you... here are a few.

Apricot Kernel Vodka - Theoretically should make a sort of almond extract - très délicieux
Passport - Pretty obvious - unless your wondering where the money's coming from...
Halloween Costumes - Alex will be Avatar's Toph; Tanner will be Link; Theoretically that is.
Letter Charm Necklaces - Cute silver chain with an initial letter charm. Once again a theory.
Tango Dress - I can't find the right one for the right price... so maybe I'll make one
Tango Shoes - Cuz you can't have enough shoes for Tango

And... some other stuff that I would remember if my brain was working.

The stuff I did do? Signed up to the food co-op in town, and painted for 4 hours.

The Baker Tango

2008-09-17T21:24:00.000-07:00

It finally happened. Tango came to Baker!

Amy, the instructor, is a Latin dancer at heart. Indeed, I think she started learning Tango on request for the CrossRoads goers(my self included). She took of to San Francisco to learn hard core from a couple of great instructors down there... but I digress. Latin at heart, she's thrown in Rumba too, and tends to teach with a step intensive style. Step intensive meaning... I loose count, beat, and am fumbling around out of sync with the class.

Though once she sets us loose (to follow our theoretical 6 step(give or take... who's counting?) basic), I'm into the Tango, anything goes- improvisational-flow with the music- awesomeness!

Well sort of. I'm leading. Something about having experience... and there being only 2-4 guys in the class at any given point, has nominated me for a prime lead. It's pretty different from following. I really can't say its less fun than following, just fun in different ways. Its exciting to start thinking of all the different things to lead... I really can't even lead the walk yet, but I am itching to lead the steps that I want to follow in, like ochos. Yet some steps seem more exciting to lead. Maybe even more exciting to lead than to follow. The cross, walking outside, three tracks... three things that I'm hoping to try if the class catches up.

I Missed My Dog Today

2008-09-16T23:26:00.000-07:00

I missed my Carson today. I've only just realized it was Tuesday... an anniversary of sorts. I guess that fits. I was sad last Tuesday. And the Tuesday before that most of all.I miss seeing her hobbling down the porch. There's a lil flag on a stick that the kids stuck in the flower bed by the porch. I see its movements out of the corner of my eye and think of her.

There was a golden retriever at the soccer game, with my old Spanish teacher. He sniffed and licked the kids around him, saw me reach out at a hand and started to come before she pulled him back out of my reach. He looked so soft and happy.

I miss her napping in the yard, and ever ready to finish off a tid bit of bacon, or a few bites of too tough steak. The cats dont appreciate it.
I miss her hugs... when she'd come up to me, and I'd crouch down and pet her ears, and she'd lean her forehead against me. Today, I really miss her hugs.

The Farewell

2008-09-10T15:01:00.000-07:00

I've grown accustomed to her face. Accustomed to her amble. Accustomed to her under the arm "pet me and only me" nudges.

My Carson has gone away, a week and a day past.

The Feast

2008-09-05T13:11:00.000-07:00

As we were driving down the mountain, and then pulling into town, we agreed that dinner was to be grilled pork chops. With grilled apricots I suggest, for we had some from Grandmother's tree. A sweetly tangy addition to the pork in place of the traditional apple sauce. As we set to prepare it, mom gathers some of the picked fresh green beans for me to prepare for grilling as well. Cursing our lack of grilling baskets, I sauce them in a bowl before packeting them in tin foil. I use a tangy lemon herb, sweet chilly sauce, garlicy ponzu mix, thick and delicious. Mom slices some potatoes which I season in the same bowl as the beans, adding a sligtly different more herbed mix. And some hickory smoked sea salt and fresh ground pepper. We skewer them on bamboo slivers and send them out too. And if apricots and potatoes, why not some of our grand harvest of tomatoes as well? Soon dad throws on a pear, and I two small quarted onions, and some pablano peppers. All from the garden.We bring it all to the table and dish up. Not much of any one thing, but plenty to try and a full plate for all. Tanner pipes up to remind us of a bottle of sparkling apple cider I had bought a week ago on whim. Chilled already. We bring that out too. And we feast. The flavors of the garden, the grill, and the apple cider spinnin together to welcome fall, to embody it. The most amazing meal I may ever have had, and so impromtu. But that is as the grill should be, and that is eating in season. The meal and hike... the best labor day I have ever seen, more perfect than I could ask for.

But the night is chill, and my heart is weak for what tomarrow brings. Yet another side of extreme.

Sometimes I Go To Extremes

2008-09-03T12:00:00.000-07:00

Everyone, at some point or another, becomes the creator of grandiose daydreams about how their plans should go off. Whether it be, When I step off the plane, my cute heel clad foot will perch carefully on the artsy cobbled streets, and I'll stroll to a lovely cafe and eat some wonderful little pastry and some handsome fellow will flirt with my gorgeous self as he walks by.... or Elizabeth's Sacrament meeting run-in with Collins in the Mormon version of Pride and prejudice(as Collins filibusters to the sacrament congregation about the about Elizabeth B. no, E. Bennet's rejection of his marriage proposal, she boldly stands, lobs a hymnal and dead centers him in the forehead to the applause of all present).

For a while I've been wanting to go on a hike. I even bought some new boots for one. Came home early from Kumoricon(anime convention) to make time on labor day. Had the path planned. Yes, it was going to be wonderful. A comfortable slow pace up a shady heavily vegitated, but clear trail.

A stream running near by, rife with moss and miniture waterfall rapids, pools too. Photographic opportunities abounding, I'd bring my new baby Canon. Stroll to a beautiful view, be it alpine lake or foresty meadow.
And sit, enjoying the view, the cool alpine air, and the feeling of being there. In the forest. And nibbling on a epicurious spread of picknic/hike foods. Cheeses, fruit, fine chocolate and toasted nuts. Regaining your breath as you sit in utter splendor. And perhaps after a bit of exploration, as the sun begins to move on its way, to stroll back down. Gently tired, greatly awed, and ultimately satisfied.
The truth is, most hikes I've been on... not that so much. First of all, hot. Way too sunny for extreme physical exertion (yes, walking up a hill qualifies when you never do it regularly). Thirdly, hiking with task masters is never desirable. Move move move move! Look at the stream... three, two, one, and move! I've never really been about the destination. Especially on day hikes. If it hurts more to get there than its worth, why do it? And the food... is often lacking. I've never been able to plan it myself. Especially with any forethought or good ideas. A granola bar. Water. And maybe a 'quick! grab what we have!' sandwich.
And this hike? This hastily thought, end of summer, dash of an idea? Fantastic. The weather was wonderful. A bit chilly and so perfect to be climbing the trail. The company? Alex and Tanner, thrilled to be doing something different like this. Dad, secretly really excited and pleased to be along (its hunting season so he almost missed it to hunt). And Mom, ever encouraging, and in on my daydream of the perfect hike.
I brought my camera, and snapped some family photos, with the glorious nature behind them. And a few pics of said glorious nature of course. The trail was shady, followed by a stream - or rather the other way around- and was short, only half a mile up, to a beautiful alpine lake, upon which the mountain peak reflected with dazzling clarity. We sat there and dined on the Gabetou, a sheep and cows milk cheese from France, I picked up in Portland's Whole Foods. Another farm cheese and some Pralus Colombian 75% chocolate. And a delectable nectarine. We chatted over the qualities of each, choosing our favorite.
When we were somewhat rested we walked a bit further around the lake, exploring. Snapped a picture of us all, and headed back down. Alex got a shoulder ride, Tanner had us all rest on the perfect reclining chair rock. The big people had some chocolate, complaining how the cold air wouldn't let it melt, for we were breathing heavily again and talking so much. Down the trail, Alex and I pause to explore the stream just before it fills into the larger lower Anthony lake. We snap a photo of some wild flowers, and stroll to the van where the family waits. We drive home, pleasantly tired, awed, and ultimately satisfied.
Thrilled we did it, and promising to come again.

Can Again

2008-08-27T23:59:00.000-07:00

"Pick some beets and get them ready for canning," he says. Definitely, I think. Pickled beets are my favorite thing we can. way more flavor than the beans, they lend their flavor to the best pickled eggs later in the year, and, what more could you ask for, they're pink! Not even raspberry or strawberry pink... they're beet pink. So deep magenta they look almost black. Pickled they have a tangy sweet flavor, twinkling oh so brightly in salads... and lending their color to the fore mentioned pickled eggs.

So pick them? Sure. Thats easy. Gather their stringy dark pink stocks and pull. Pop, easier than a carrot and much more rewarding than a pulling a weed. I rinse them with the hose water, warm from sitting in the sun, but not scalding on the unusually mild summer day. I snip the leaves, leaving an inch or to of stem to the root. It helps them retain color when cooking. And we must retain color.

Dad gets home... we start to boil the beats, larger than softballs (ignore that the small beets are supposed to be used, I've never minding the massive ones). They boil for hours filling the house with a strange beety smell. I look at the dark liquid they're bubbling in, failing to thourogly appreciate the steemy beet facial provided. The kitchens already steamy and warm.

"Did you stick the beets with a fork?" asks Dad. No... Will do. And I find they are done. Just as he is going to bed. He lists a quick procedure and leaves me, canning book in hand, with fifteen pounds of cooked beets. The dire task of canning them. Alone. For if they are not canned tonight, still steaming hot... they will be unfit for canning. The huge pot of them would never get eating strait up. Danget... theres no choice.

Sweating in the steam, franticly washing, filling, slicing, peeling. Were talking BIOSECURITY here folks! Lost in the method I had never paid attention to before, I desperately flip through my booklet, while Mom, acting as opporation support, seeks help online for Bernise. Fill over the top of the jars with boiling water?! Hope they dont leak. Into the boiling canner they go... fill up with the already boiling water (which I prepped cuz I thought Dad did that, turns out I absolutely had to have it). Keep everything hot... covered with water. My heart quakes as the air bubbles emerge from under the jar caps. Are they leaking? But the water doesn't turn pink.

Pickled beets with Taryn's Special Reserve Pickled Green Beans
in the background

Ten minutes of boiling suspense, its done. I carefully fish them from the hot water, letting them cool, waiting for the little 'pop's of sealing triumph. They all sealed. I cracked one open the next day. Flavor success. Thats right.

Taryn. Canned. Beets.

Solo.

The next day, I canned some pickled green beans (With the assurance that I could do a single batch... well a double, but no 15lbs so it was doable!) Yesterday beets, today green beans, tomorrow THE WORLD!

Or as that might result in some serious botulism, some homemade pancake syrups: apple cinnamon, walnut maple, praline pecan, and some pear butter.

I was totally nervous having never even really helped, then to be doing, not one batch, but 4 batches at a time! 14 pint jars beets, 7 beans. Up till about 12:30, got some bragging rights. New skill. Rock on.

Been looking for some dance tunes, with Sean Paul style rhythm only not -at least blatantly/only- about reproductions acts. >.>

Kyoto

2008-08-14T13:12:00.000-07:00

In all the world there aren't many places I wouldn't like traveling to. Remove any threat of violent social unrest and freaky parasitic diseases and I'm good to go anywhere. Some I'm more inclined to seek out first and foremost. This list changes however, each time I run into a favorable description or closer look at any one given destination. A combination of Sheye Rosemeyer's blog photography, Epicurious' Diary of a Foodie special on the slow food movement, and the episode of Biggest Looser filmed there, has sold me on a trip to Australia, which I had not before especially sought out.

This week, I'm sold on Kyoto, Japan. Japan was always second on my list anyway (if I lump Europe all together), but I had never had any detailed or specific insight to it. Tokyo... big city. They have Fujiyama (I think yama means mountain, so when people say, Mt. Fujiyama its a bit redundant). They have amazing architecture and gardens. Food so far removed from western palates its hard to identify as food (like China yet more approachable). And anime and hirijaku sub cultures. Oh and crazy candy bars.
The difficulty I faced with wanting to travel to Japan, I had no way to associate all of these things with the places they were found. Japan the country was effectively separate from the bits of culture I had sniffed out. And so, were I to go, where would I go? Kyoto. My selling points? Kyoto Foodie, anime renditions... and this shop's website.

I'll agree that the most amazing part of travel is the people you meet. Being shy, my favorite is the food. After these two, the amazing views and feelings of just being there. Kyoto Foodie has the cuisine covered, Where and What to Eat in Kyoto, as their slogan states. That's my kind of travel guide. So Kyoto, stay fresh, I'm coming. Eventually.

Millions Of Berries, Berries For Free

2008-07-30T01:21:00.000-07:00

Millions of berries, berries for me! ^-^

The raspberries are in season, by the bush full. Each day another gallon or two of berries ripens ready to be picked. As they have left their home patch and advanced upon the greater garden the task becomes ever more monstrous.

Berries for freezing, berries for jam,
berries for eating, and pick them we can!

And check out that tasty treat. Raspberry pastry cream tart complete with whipped cream and raspberry coulis. How cool is that? >_I

Pick on, comrades. Pick on.