I’m No Artist

As long as I can remember I’ve loved art. My mom says that even as a little kid I had a grasp of color beyond my years. She tells the story of asking me what colors some of the flowers in our garden were. Apparently when asked about the pretty pink flower I said something to the effect (affect?) of “its pink but there’s also blue, and fuchsia, and has some green.”

So I was a little know it all from the start. Not that surprising.

Point being, I have always liked color. Mixing paint colors remains to this day one of my favorite activities. Something about swirling different colors together, making an entirely new shade, maybe one that no ones seen before, it’s very zen for me.

waters-of-the-purple-bleeding-hearts3

I’ve always painted and drawn. I was lucky enough to have parents encourage me to get messy and be creative. They bought me endless art supplies, and would sign me up for classes at the community arts center. When I was little I wanted to be like Picasso. I wanted to be rich and famous and have people praise my work. I wanted to be this cool bohemian girl with paint under her nails and splattered on her party dress. I wanted to be the toast of Paris…

At the rate I’m going Van Gogh might be more accurate…

Being an “artist” is tough.  There’s not a lot of money and you have to have a thick skin to take the criticism. I don’t consider myself an artist. I am far too sensitive. I get emotionally attached to my paintings and typically only paint when I am in a heightened emotional state. I don’t want to have to explain myself or my inspiration. I am afraid of being rejected or misunderstood. I don’t want people laughing at something I poured my heart and soul into. And bottom line I’m just not that good.

i-cant-help-it-if-you-might-think-im-odd1

My paintings look like the “my kid could paint that” crap. Other people have said to me that I’m not that bad and have even gone so far as to say they like some of my pieces but I’m always skeptical.

Coming into the home stretch of this bizarre experiment I need one final push, so I’m taking the chance. I’ve solicited help from other artist friends for recommendations on getting high quality photos so I can sell prints. Who knows, maybe I’ll open an Etsy shop where everyone will rate me highly and I’ll be the toast of Mesa!

In the meantime, anyone who wants to check out some of my paintings can go to my online portfolio. Please keep any criticism to yourself. It’s hard enough trying to share this side of me.

cactus-flower-edit1

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Back To The Future!

Again, apologies for not posting more the last few weeks. It’s been rough being out of work, broke, and feeling so sick.

But I digress…(I’ve always wanted to say that!)

delorean

Recently, in a mostly joking way I made a post on Facebook to the affect (effect?) of “Wanted: awkward nerd girl seeks similar boy for cuddling in blanket forts and back rubs. Smokers need not apply.”

Most of the time my Facebook posts go unnoticed. I don’t make a habit of posting long, emotional, political pleas. I am usually pretty guarded with things of an emotional nature and I make a point of avoiding politics and philosophy at all costs in any situation but especially on the internet.

Color me surprised when I got a whole bunch of likes and comments, particularly from an old crush, lets call him Ellis Tesla for She-Hulk’s Sake.

I had a bit of a crush on this guy in high school and we were both teased by a certain AP history teacher that we’d be a cute couple. I did like him but he had a girlfriend and was way too cool for me. For reference sake, I’m Crispin Glover and he was Marty McFly/Calvin Klein.

If my dating life had an expression, this would be it.

If my dating life had an expression, this would be it.

Like most people, we lost touch after graduation and only occasionally spoke via Facebook so imagine my surprise when he played along with my sort-of-joking-kind-of-not-really post about looking for a date. Remembering my She-Hulk, our main character finally gets to be with her long-time, rock star crush, Ellis Tesla. Well, I’ve known this guy a long time. I did have a crush on him. He was in band…For all intents and purposes I am enacting my own little slice of fiction.

So I took the chance and gave him my number on the pretense of “catching up.” We’ll meet up, chat, maybe shit talk some people we went to school with and see who we still talk to. It should be…interesting…I have no clue if this is a date or not. There was some pretty solid flirty texting going on last night but that could just be me reading waaaaay too much into things for a change. I could really use some advice from Doc Brown here!

Whether it’s a date or not I am counting it as a win for my resolutions. I am reconnecting with an old friend which counts but I also haven’t seen him in like 8 years so I’m counting it as a new person as well.

This whole experience is really making me take a look down memory lane. How much have I changed? How much have I not changed? What would my crushes think of me now? What would my friends think of me now? Would we even be friends now if we hadn’t met in high school?

Considering when Ellis Tesla knew me I wore pj pants to school, I’m pretty confident the 26 year old me is a vast improvement over me at 17.

I'm ready for my date!

I’m ready for my date!

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The Devil Went Down To Georgia

I haven’t posted in a while because I’ve had nothing worth posting about. Still nothing on the job or relationship front. I feel stalled. Stuck. Sick. I don’t know what to do and I honestly feel so shitty don’t want to do anything.

Feeling an overwhelming lack of motivation I thought rereading The She-Hulk Diaries would be good. It was a nice reminder that setbacks happen and not to just outright give up. While it gave me some positive reinforcement, I still don’t feel particularly motivated to do much of anything.

Part of this might be due to the fact that, as I like to say, “there’s trouble down south.”

Not feeling well is part of my every day life. I have Crohn’s Disease and as an added bonus on top of that I also have arthritis. One delightful thing about auto-immune diseases; chances are good, if you have one, you’ll have another. Over the years I’ve learned to live with my body and just deal (a trait I inherited from my mother who has the same illness) but, sometimes my body has a plan of its own. For the last week or two I’ve been in what Crohnies call a “flare.” My Crohn’s has been particularly active cause a great deal of pain and frustration on my part.

Crohn’s is a delightful, sexy illness where you develop inflammation along the digestive track causing pain, narrowings, blockages, and a whole host of other wonderful side effects. As a former crush once said to me, “so basically you’re like an epic shitter?” In those less than delicate terms…sure.

Below the Mason Dixon line in my body there’s a civil war. My body attacks itself causing pain and Katrina like devastation.

It’s caused me to lose jobs, cancel dates, lose friends, miss school, pay through to nose for doctors and treatments, and overall fucked my outlook on life.

No date wants to hear about how bloated and in pain and unsexy you feel. The last thing you want to do while spending the night with someone is wreck their toilet. Farting while spooning is considered poor form. People get embarrassed when you go out to dinner and give the waiter the 3rd degree about menu items. Friendly outtings become a nightmare when you have to stop everything to find a bathroom NOW! Bosses aren’t inclined to believe you’re sick when you “don’t look sick.” “Why can’t you come in to work and just go to the bathroom” or “you’ve missed too many days already you can’t be sick again.”

It’s not that fucking simple! No one is dumping buckets of ice on their heads to find a cure for Crohn’s. No major celebrities back the cause or talk about finding a cure. It’s one of those illnesses that isn’t very sexy or popular. No one wants to talk about poop or vomit. Dixie might be calling but ain’t nobody answering.

I have always been aware that things could be a lot worse. There are those with Crohn’s much more severe than mine. I could be hospitalized with an ostomy and losing my hair. I could be down to 90 lbs and all by myself instead of having supportive family and friends around me. but still…

Being sick sucks. It hurts. It’s expensive. It messes with your head and ruins your social life.

I promise when I actually have something worth writing about I will, but for now, Crohn’s can suck my lady balls.

Me getting my remicade infusion

Me getting my remicade infusion

 

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Danny Trejo Stars In Machete 3: Garden Gloves Of Death

They say “to plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.” What does it say when you take a machete and hack your garden to bits?

machete_trejo_md

Sometimes when life gives you lemons, the only thing you can do is take a big fucking knife and hack away at it. More on that at the bottom.

Last week was a rough week for me. My anxiety was at a new high, I was all alone, and it seemed like nothing was going my way. Shit happens. I know this better than most. Doesn’t mean I don’t throw the occasional tantrum or get drunk and skinny dip. It’s my pool, I do what I want!

Where was I?

I felt even more pressure to have some kind of results since we’ve reached the halfway point of my little social experiment. I’ve been busting my ass for a month now, trying to improve myself and stick to my resolutions with little to show for it. It’s been a frustrating road.

Still don’t have a job, haven’t even gotten any interviews.

Still single and alone. Haven’t made any new friends, let alone met someone I want to date.

Still a blob on the couch. Haven’t been working out or eating particularly well. Might actually be eating worse than usual.

My garden is being eaten to death by bugs and everything is dying.


You know what I have done though?

I’ve tried.

I haven’t quit.

I’ve gone out.

I’ve gone to meetups.

I’ve gone to Doctor Who’s Day every week.

I’ve tried new things.

I had a great birthday.

I’ve applied for jobs in spite of feeling defeated.

I’ve seen friends I haven’t seen in ages and made plans to see them again.

I’ve talked to new people and tried to make friends.

I’ve been taking care of motherfucking business even when it feels like I’m getting nowhere sitting on hold and sending emails.

I started a blog.

I haven’t totally neglected said blog.

If this picture doesn't make you feel at peace I don't know what will

If this picture doesn’t make you feel at peace I don’t know what will

So you know what, I may not have something solid to show for my effort but I have done a damn good job so far. I have a long way to go. Anyone whose been to therapy knows you’re never “fixed,” you’re never done working on yourself, but you also have to cut yourself some slack. Admittedly, this is not something I’m very good at. I am by far my worst critic. If I talked to others the way I talked to myself, well…I’d probably be a lot farther in life actually because I’d be an Anna Wintour level ballbuster…hmmm…

In honor of reaching the halfway point and not completely giving up yet, I’m cutting myself some slack.

Yes, I may have gotten fed up with my life in general. I may have taken a huge ass knife and hacked away at the rat-king, ripping it apart like I was Machete on a rampage. I may have polished off a bottle of wine by myself. I may have gotten naked and finished that bottle in the pool. I may have even texted my friend a blow-by-blow of Sharknado 2.

This all may have happened in one day…It doesn’t matter. I’m cutting myself some slack. So what if I’m feeling a little more Shulky than Jennifer Walters. Sometimes you just have to let the beast rage.

It also bares mentioning that immediately after finishing this post I saw an interview of Danny Trejo on NPR. Here’s the link to hear how Machete got his big break and got his life together after a much darker past than mine.

http://www.npr.org/2014/08/03/337134637/danny-trejo-from-the-big-house-to-the-big-screen

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The Hell Router?!

I haven’t been able to post for the last few days due to a dead router. The thing was probably older than me. I’m pretty sure the cave paintings of Lascaux depict primitive man angrily throwing it out for a new one.

cave painting

Due to overall laziness and a decent smartphone I waited a day or two before bothering to go buy a new one and then another day before I got around to installing it. We’ve established, I’m lazy. Moving on.

I spent an hour trying to get the little bitch to work. The manual reads like stereo instructions and calling India for help just made things worse.

Feeling overwhelmed and possessing a strong desire to throw the expensive piece of shit out the window I decided to walk away from it for the day; come back tomorrow with fresh eyes and some Xanax. Needless to say that didn’t happen.

What do we do when shit gets hard? When something doesn’t work? When we lose a ring? CALL MOM!!!!

Now this meant waiting for her to get back in town but when you’re as useless as me it’s no trouble at all. More than wanting her to make it work I wanted validation that I had tried everything possible and the little bastard just wouldn’t work. I don’t know as much about computers as her but I can follow directions, even when Ikea printed them.

Not only did she magically fix it but apparently all she had to do was turn the damn computer on! Apparently my mom is the Disney Princess of electronics and they just do her bidding while singing and dressing her for the ball…

If she’s the princess then I guess that makes me the ugly stepsister or at least the not entirely un-comely dysfunctional child.

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Bruce Banner Ain’t Got Nothin’ On Me

Okay, we’ve established that I have a LOT of free time. Last night I decided to spend some of that time playing on the fashionably enviable site Polyvore creating a wardrobe for She-Hulk. Because I can.

One of the many aspects I like about She-Hulk, specifically in The She-Hulk Diaries, is how she finds a way to balance her multiple lives and alter egos. Jennifer Walters is a shy lawyer while She-Hulk is the hero of Manhattan when the Avengers are busy doing other things. She’s tough and strong of course but she’s also brave in the face of danger, saving the world from Dr. Doom time and time again. Last but not least is everyone’s favorite party girl, Shulky. She loves to have a good time and isn’t shy about what she wants unlike Jennifer. A little loose, a little trashy, Shulky knows how to have a good time.

Clearly I have nothing better to do with my time. Clearly…

polyvore she hulk

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Fangirl Fatale: The Movie!

Okay not a movie, but I did design myself an avatar that I think represents both the dork that I am and the femme fatale I wish I was more of.

I’ve got my glasses, my war paint, and little baby unicorn nose!

Good start.

logo

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Golden Year And Golden Showers…Wait…Scratch That

Print

Yesterday I turned 26 on July 26th which is pretty fucking cool. For those not cool enough to know, when you turn the same age as the day you are born it’s called your “golden year.”

I’ve been looking forward to my “golden year” since  I turned 25! I’ve never been a huge fan of my birthday but the last few years I’ve tried my best to make it a good day, something to look forward to. It’s not been an easy road.

I’ve taken to saying “life is hard and full of disappointments, that’s why man created birthdays.” And it’s true. Growing up I hated my birthday. Too many disappointing days with too few friends and parents forgetting to call…but we’ll talk about my daddy issues later…I’ve never had a surprised party and I missed my chance for birthday sex the one time I had a boyfriend during my birthday.

I don’t get particularly hung up on being a year older or depressed about my age. My birthday disappointments are purely social, material, and sclfish. I always wanted that surprise party and I’m still hopeful that someday maybe I’ll get one. And that day I’ll get every amazing gift I never knew I wanted and the man of my dreams with sweep me off my feet and it’ll be one of the best days of my life…a girl can dream…

Dreams aside, this year my birthday was a pretty good day. Or couple days actually as time was divided up between parents out of town, seeing friends, and big dinners.

The actual day started off pretty slow and lonesome. I was close to giving up on the day entirely. I started to get down on myself and assumed no one would show up. Thank Glob I didn’t give up and call the whole thing off. It turned out to be a great evening filled with friends, food, games, gifts, and a TARDIS pinata.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I love my friends. I don’t have many but the ones I do have are pretty amazing people. They spent their Saturday night making me feel loved and I’m truly grateful to them for that.

For a kid who grew up so alone and hating her birthday, I couldn’t have asked for a better night. I mean I could have but I didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

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What Is With The Great Light In The Sky?

Can someone please explain Welcome to Night Vale to me? Seriously. I consider myself a pretty weird kid. I like random stuff. I get obscure references…But for the life of me I can’t get in to Welcome to Night Vale.

I’m picky about my podcasts. There is really only one I listen to with regularity and that’s Hollywood Babble-On. It’s hilarious, clever, and grossly inappropriate. Plus it has Kevin Smith!

I’ve been known to listen to various Nerdist podcasts and snippets from NPR but HBO is my main go to. It’s only draw back is that it’s about an hour and a half to two hours long. While I pretty much always have at least two hours of sitting around doing nothing, I don’t always want to spend that time listening to a podcast. I like that Night Vale episodes are fairly short. I can listen to one and not feel like I have to put my busy day of staring at the TV and running to the bathroom on hold.

I wish I could get into it. Does anyone out there have any opinion on WNV? Do you love it? Do you hate it? Is there another podcast you think I should give a chance?

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War Paint

warrior women

The more events and social obligations I force myself to go to lately the more I need the confidence boost. There’s only so many meetups you can go to before they start to bleed together. The people are all the same no matter if it’s “geek girls of Gilbert” or “sexy social sluts from Scottsdale.” I’ve started the ritual for myself of putting my “war paint” on before I go out.

I try to dress well and look nice for these things but that’s really fucking hard when it’s 114 out and I’m in the Crohn’s flare from hell! Waistbands are uncomfortable for me and you’re sweating in places you didn’t even know you could sweat. Arizona is a strange and miserable land. The Natives cursed this godforsaken land to burn in eternal hellfire before we forced them onto the reservations.

Or that’s my theory anyway…

So I dress like a hobo but at least I have my “war paint” on.

I’m lucky in that I inherited my mother and grandmother’s skin. Hungarian women are known for having very good skin and aging quite well sooo…fingers crossed!

Having such milky, perfect, alabaster skin I generally don’t wear any sort of foundation or powder. I used to love mascara but since I gave up on contacts and became permanently a member of the 4-eyed-club the Rimmel doesn’t make it in the makeup bag either so that leaves me with lipstick.

lipsticks

 

So with all those other items ruled out I’ve become a fan of lipstick. I subscribe to the Kissing Jessica Stein school of applying lipstick. You’ll never find that one perfect shade. Never. The art of the perfect lipstick is a layering process. I start with a lipstain which is just fun. It’s like a magic marker for your lips! Then there’s a layer of lipstick on top of that. Lastly, you need a gloss or something moisterizing to finish off the look.

It’s a pain but the result is pretty damn hot and it makes me feel empowered. When I put my “war paint” on I am ready to take on the world!

warpaint1

 

Image one via Pinterest, Chloe Dykstra, and S Moda.

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