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You’ll figure it out.

Make-it month continues.

I decided to channel my all my emo and mopey-ness into further development of the raven choreography.

I can’t remember what came first, the wings or the song.  Both appeared in my life around the same time about a year ago.  The wings I purchased from Polish artist Dorota D.’s Etsy store Pracownia Dor. She hand-paints these gorgeous silk wings.

Raven

The song I’m working with was originally a poem set to music in the 1700s by Swedish composer Carl Michael Bellman (Fredman’s Epistles, No. 81). I’m using the Mediæval Babes’ version of this work, Märk Hur Vår Skugga (Behold Our Shadow), which you can listen to in the video below.  The lyrics set a scene in which two fellows are graveside with the deceased: a wayward, trouble-making woman. As the two men reflect on their own mortality and stare into the abyss, one wonders, ‘Who will now command the bottle? Thirsty was she, thirsty am I, we are all very thirsty.’

I also revisited Poe’s poem The Raven for a bit of Nevermore inspiration and read up on raven symbolism in Viking mythology.  I played with wing configurations, geometry, and whirling. I experimented with wing and wind, shutter and flutter. I perched and sat in an attempt to capture the ghastly, grim, and ancient in movement and stillness. Then when things got too morbid and ridiculous, I squawked and flapped my wings and flew the coop.

I’ll be honest, today was exhausting. It’s almost 11 p.m. and I’ve only been home for about an hour. As I sat down to consider what I might throw together to fulfill my goal of making something everyday, I realized I just didn’t have it in me to make another papery mess to have to clean up. Then I starting thinking back over this forever long day to see if I could mine any of my regularly scheduled programming for acts of creativity to share. It seemed like cheating, but then again, maybe the writing itself could serve as the medium in a creative non-fiction sort of way. And that’s when I had the terrible idea to entitle this post, “Today I Made a Difference!” and to tell you about my heroic feats in the trenches with today’s youth. I decided to spare us all from that narrative. You’re welcome.

The next bad idea I had was that I could post another video of somebody else’s creativity. Again. I made several videos today of other people doing awesome things.  I nixed that idea too.

Finally, I decided to draw you a picture. When I picked up my journal — not the Ukrainian journal, but the dot journal (it’s a new thing I’m trying, roll with it) I discovered two stupid pictures I drew of myself the other day when I stayed in bed sick and then went to the Little Clinic.  I didn’t remember drawing this until I saw it and it made me laugh.

Sick Me

That’s what you’re getting today. And since I have a couple minutes to spare, here’s the some of the “difference” I made at work with today’s youth…

Comic Strip Conversations

 

My Magical Make-It Month continues and today I’ve made a fantastic mess.  Nobody said this would be easy or tidy.

Mess

But hey, at least I managed to get the cover picture right side up and on the front of the journal!

Last night as we were turning in, he pulled some sort of journal-making flotsam or jetsam of mine out from deep beneath the covers and asked, “What is this?!”

 Mwahahah! I wonder what he’ll find in bed tonight…

(I suppose there is a good reason Pressfield entitled his awesome book The War of Art. Think about it.)

 

Only three days in and my magical make-it month is starting to stress me out. I wish I was kidding.

Inspired by old family photographs that I confiscated from my dad and by the journals my sister makes, I started creating a Ukrainian-themed journal earlier this year.

Last night I worked on the inside cover (i.e., the gluey mess I alluded to in my last post) and my sister bound it for me. Today I set to work on the front cover. I decided to use the wedding photograph of my great-great grandparents…and…voila!
Ukrainian cover

…when I finished cutting and inking and gluing and tweaking, I went to show it off, so very proud of myself….and that’s when I realized I had put it all on the back cover

upside down.

To cut myself some slack, I am going to blame it on the fact that I’m running a fever and there are 4 medications running through my system today.  Back to the drawing board tomorrow.

If you’d like to see an fabulous example of a “junk journal” check out my sister’s page: RecycledbySkattur

 

 

Barista Princess: That will be $7.40 – Oh! You have glitter in your hair!

Me: I do!  Well…it’s tinsel.

Barista Princess: That’s so cool!

Me: You have a tiara!

Barista Princess: I do! (smugly) So I win.

~~*~~

Barista Princess: 1

Me:0


Hawaii Feet April 17, 2019

Wherelings, whenlings

(daughters of if-but, offspring of hope-fear, sons of unless and children of almost),

never shall guess the dimensions of him

whose each foot likes the here of this earth

whose both eyes love this now of the sky.

endlings of isn’t shall never begin

to begin to imagine how

Him whose each foot likes the here of this earth

Him whose both eyes love this now of the sky.

(only are shall be were

Dawn dark rain snow rainbow

and a moon ‘ s whisper in sunset

Thrushes toward dusk among whippoorwills

or

tree field rock hollyhock forest brook

Chickadee

Mountain. Mountain)

Why-coloured worlds of because

Do not stand against yes

Which is built by forever and sunsmell.

(sometimes a wonder of wild roses sometimes)

with north

over

the barn.

 

e.e. cummings

20/50

HER: “I’m not going to put my shoes on.  I don’t think it’s illegal to drive without shoes. I looked it up online once.”

ME: “….you are driving around with expired tags and you are worried about whether it’s illegal to drive without shoes…”

(for the record, it’s not illegal to drive without shoes)

~*~

ME: (bounding into the room for no apparent reason in superhero pose singing) “Here I come to save the day!”

HIM:  “Thanks for the warning.”

~*~

(On the way to go bike riding — one of my least favorite activities)

HIM: “Are you excited?”

ME: (lost in a daydream) “Huh?” (coming back to Earth) “Oh, sorry, I’m in my imagination.”

HIM:  “You are in your imagination?”

ME: “No. I mean, I’m IN my imagination.”

HIM: “What are you imagining…a world where you don’t have to go bike riding?

ME: “Can you stop at Starbucks? That will give me caffeine. And enthusiasm.”

~*~

I was very behind on yard work, so I pruned the Rose of Sharon in the spring instead of the fall. The branches were very pliant – they had already started to green up.   I decided to braid them together and stick them in the dirt of a few potted plants to make a little basket handle/trellis of sorts for a few of my plants needing a little support.  I was shocked last week when I walked by to discover one of my “basket handles” had actually  bloomed a pink flower!

20180817_131044_resized.jpg

“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.
“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”
“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”
Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

November was exceedingly strange.  Here are a few pictures I’ve taken this month of things that happened.

There was this…

trump-wtf

 

Moving on.

 

 

tired-bear

“I just can’t” said the bear in the Costco parking lot.

 

 

(I was waiting on a friend in the car when the bear showed up seemingly unaccompanied.)

 

 

dino

“Rawr” said the dinosaur.

 

 

(The dino was my contribution to a SoKaN event for #901 Rocks – a delightfully fun community craft movement taking the city by storm. These are some of the other SoKaNers’ painted rocks…)

901-rocks

[And finally, coming home fr0m this mad, funny, heartbreaking, and beautiful world to  retreat (not to be confused with retweet) and recharge.]

 

cat on my book.jpg

Mad Catter crashing my tea party

 

 

 

 

The last two weeks of December are deliciously mine, mine, mine. (Well, mostly). To celebrate I decided I wanted to do something crazy and luxurious. I wanted to watch TV. Not Youtube or something on the Internet, but actual TV.

Sounds easy enough…

Here’s the thing: we don’t have cable and our antiquated television is one of those big, bulky contraptions that requires a converter box to receive a signal. It’s not at all user-friendly even though El-D acts like it’s incredibly easy to operate. Despite the many “How to Turn on the TV” tutorials he’s provided over the years, I remain mystified. All I can tell you is that poking the “ON” button on anything on or around the device never works. From my lessons, I have learned that there are least three steps required to get the thing going, yet there are four different remotes with an outrageous array of buttons, none of which do what they claim.  Believe me, I have pushed them all to no effect.

Why does one need this many buttons and switches to operate the TV set? I am not trying to fly an airplane here; I just want to watch…well, anything at this point – a rerun of Gilligan’s Island maybe? Or even a good old fashioned hemorrhoid cream commercial. I have a Ph.D., surely I can figure this out? Instead, like a chicken playing the video game Portal, I go flapping around, pecking at things and squawking…and the Portal never opens.

So I sit on the couch staring at the blank screen, longing for the good old days when the world was made of tangible, sensible things…back in the days when there was just one “on” button and it meant business – you had to physically get up and turn a knob to watch Johnny Carson…back when you were part of the reception process and that process involved things like antenna, aluminum foil, and perhaps an old pie tin.

Finally, El-D appears and by the wonders of his modern wizardry, the Miss Universe Pageant lights up the screen. Who even knew this sort of thing (i.e., televised beauty pageants) still happened in the world? I am instantly transported back to those “good old days” when we – Kiki, Roy, mom and I – sat in the old rockers in the den as we judged beautiful women parading around in swimsuits.

And that is how, against incredible odds, I wound up watching the epic mistake Steve Harvey made in crowning the (wrong) winner.

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