I’ve dealt with highs and lows. Only recently have I tried to curb the roller coaster with exercise and keeping a journal. Recently, I’ve taken an interest in writing/illustrating a children’s book. I have struggled with writing, with getting a piece done. Getting past the veil of depression ended with me tangled in misconceptions and hopelessness. I don’t forgive myself easily. I am trying to change that.

I am in awe of the illustrations of Steve Jenkins. SO I attempted a beetle tonight. I was hesitant about it. Thought about putting it off, but there is the chance I won’t come back to it. The chance that thinking about completing it will make some painful part of my brain sizzle. Procrastination is pain avoidance to a degree. I just went for it and find the process calming. Creating is powerful. 

Jenkins is a professional and his method is wonderfully complicated and well researched…One day my beetle will come to life. 

And will have legs…..


**Pair this with cold donuts and sugar loaded coffee energy drinks.**

The top shelf was too far away. Not five feet now. Miles. Eons. Glints of light twinkled off the bottles. They could stave off the encroaching curtains of thick black fabric. Cold fabric. 

"And that is crap. Crap, crap, crap. Crapola."

And so the cursor blinked. She blinked. The sky…

"NO", she thought. Curled up on the floor and slept while the fan drowned out the silence, watching only reruns and eating sugar and salt by the spoonful. 

Here lies the writer. 

STOP, said some cosmic being. This is ludicrous. 

"The scariest moment is always just before you start."

— Stephen King, On Writing (via observando)


(via litreactor)

"The first duty of the novelist is to entertain. It is a moral duty. People who read your books are sick, sad, traveling, in the hospital waiting room while someone is dying. Books are written by the alone for the alone."

— Donna Tartt, author of The Secret History (via vintageanchorbooks)

(via anotherseason)




Doves released in the Vatican as a gesture of peace are immediately attacked by vicious seagull and crow

hail satan

Bad day to be a dove at the Vatican…

a little splash of omen with just the right amount of comedy…makes it smile worthy…followed by a cautious cringe

(Source: blackscab, via zorobro)


UUUHhhhhhh Derp :B…i think I made things better…I think

I tagged Gaiman (@neilhimself) on Twitter and he retweeted this….<3


"Fairy tales are full of transformations. Princes become frogs, mermaids lose their tails and become servant girls, pumpkins become coaches, babies become pigs, and then they all convert back again. It’s a very fluid world."

— Audrey Niffennegger, article at The Guardian

A great class

Took this class when it first ran. Ketchum knows fear and evil intimately. My classmates and I created terrifying stories that have been staples in my portfolio. 

I feel it rising through


The pressure of words

taken back

and compromised

Their cries, resistance to

tearing, ripping


or delayed realization

shake through my eyes

Only the tears fall

on the bed sheets

collar, bare skin

hands pruned by pain and time

Senility and Sedaris

The morning started with a vague sense of dreariness, most likely due to the fact I have four hours of work after two days off. Extended time away makes it harder to think “yes, this is my responsibility. let me break myself away from this freedom to choose what to do to go back to work.”

Granted, I was the one who called in for the last two days due to an emergency tooth issue, but it seemed urgent at the time I thought of it. That’s because the dreary feeling hasn’t just been an ailment for this morning. It had been more like a thread through me for the last three days. Bright red thread through the chest, out through the sternum, like floss, a tickle, sore, throbbing. Uneasy feeling in my gut. 

The morning ended, around 11, with my clothes soaking wet on the right side and piled on the floor. The heat from a glowing oven eye sent the water into a frenzy while I stood naked in the kitchen grabbing a tea cup. As the whistle started, the change of clothes in the dryer warming, I decided everything so far today wasn’t a loss. 

In between was a dash to a meeting I’d forgotten about, which, through the haze was like a fast moving hand grabbing me by the collar. It sounded like my Google Calendar reminding me I had ten minutes until the departmental meeting. The 8:30 meetings are mine to record. Afterwards, I sat with Rogan to catch up on everything. 

Downstairs, the highlight of coming in, was Sedaris’s Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls Audiobook. Because of it, I got through some errands. Take trash to the bin, take donations to Goodwill, pick up birth control and finally return home.

Where I lock my keys in the car and have to lay on the water covered ground to get the extra key, a child holding a bottle down the sidewalk staring at me. 

Next door little girl: 

"Why are you wet?"

The resulting conversation ended with. 

"Well that’s cool"

Yes, magnetic boxes with keys are cool indeed….

And I’m cold, I thought. 

Hence the warm clothes and warm tea as if I was about to take in a cold, lonely stranger with no where to go…or about to help a woman giving birth. 

Either way. 

3D: The bug, the grave and the building

What Jordan didn’t expect was that the dirt would slip between his neck and sweat soaked collar, trickling down his back and lacing the inside of his boxers. Dead bugs, vegetation, worms, cold against his back that was hot with labored breath. Possibly pieces of dirt that had soaked up the gases of the dead, seeping out of coffins and rising to the surface. The coffin had been cheap, Jordan thought. But he kept going. It had bothered him that his brother had jumped from the top of his office building, after working 15 years on the second floor, straight into a closed coffin. No peek of the in between, no glimpse or visual deterrent, a warning sign of crushed bone and flesh, to tell him, the little brother left behind, that down wasn’t the way to go, even with all this responsibility coming down on him. Jordan stopped to catch his breath and shook the dirt off. 

My book review on Revenge by Yoko Ogawa

"Eleanor and Franklin"

I’m on a bit of an Eleanor Roosevelt kick…and I’m watching the HBO movie “Eleanor and Franklin”. The way she is nervous around Franklin with his strong advances at a dance, nervous, shy, wondering why he is advancing though she tries to get away - there I am. Oh, hey, that’s me. 

Him trying to propose and she’s like “what? you can’t love me. That’s impossible.” and he’s like “b**** please, marry me.” See for yourself: clip

Also noticed these small booklets around the wrist of the women at the dances. Curious, I tried searching “notes pinned to sleeves formal dances”, “formal dance notes” and “cuff notes”. Finally “formal dance etiquette introduction card” worked. They are called “dance cards”, an interesting detail in the whole production, matching wonderfully with the intricate lace work on the period dresses. I’m watching Part One and the lead actors are wonderful - Jane Alexander’s voice is great, matching the voice while being genuine and Edward Herrman so far is a very convincing FDR. If only he were shorter than she as FDR was in real life.