Duel

Aug. 15th, 2016 09:34 am
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Duel

Apparently I was just unconsciously shooting book covers for an epic fantasy series…

I’m not complaining!

There’s nothing about this one that I don’t love. NOM.

* * *

I woke up okay, but the anxiety is trying to amp up to panic, so I’m breathing and doing the exercises first, before I go and take my Klonopin.

School starts tomorrow. As a result, I am taking the Bean out to get new shoes. Shockingly, the shoes the Mouse currently has are fine and she loves them. One less thing.

* * *

Trying to figure out how much I can do in a day is really frustrating me. I just have no sense of what my endurance or recovery time is. I know I need to exercise more, but everything is a choice. I can exercise and not work on the Apocalyptica. I can exercise or not take care of my girls the way that they need. I can’t give up on my health, because it is directly related to my sanity.

So. I’ve got to figure that out. Which is okay. Everything is solvable.

In the meantime, I need to get the rest of the Sutro photos processed so I can to strip the establishing shots I took over the weekend into the computer, so I can get them prepped. And everything is taking five times longer than I want it to and then I stop…

I breathe…

And remember…

It takes as long as it takes.

And who knows? Hiking out to all these locations should get me in good shape. Climbing too. I’ll just let my body do what it needs to do. A breathing body is a perfect body.

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Spiral Dance

And I do mean it this time.

This is, hands down, the best one of the series. I finally got reasonable control of the compositing and also stepped up my box of skills with applying effects to a singular layer. On top of that, if there’s one thing I can do, it’s retouch something to make it look like a light source is coming from someplace else.

* * *

Yesterday started with a zero to wide the fuck awake in twenty seconds with an issue that’s going to take days to resolve, but, BUT, it can be resolved, it’s just a time issue.

LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE IN MY LIFE.

I am not impatient, why do you ask?

I also ended up walking to the CVS, which wasn’t that far away and ticked off my exercise today, my Japanese parasol over me to keep the evil day star from cooking my head. I looked very stylish if I say so myself. But it was definitely on the warm side and I really wished that not all of my shorts were in the laundry. *gasp*

Oh, and my mother (biological, the one who abused me) called and I’m seriously avoiding calling her back, because, fuck’s sake, I’ve got too much to do. But I’ll probably do it today. Get the toad swallowing out of the fucking way.

But the bright spot is that I cleaned more of my garden yesterday, I’m going to do more today, and Blue Apron sent me a packet of seeds in this past week’s box! Seeds! Yay! So Imma gonna plant ’em and put them on the window sill. Pea shoots, here we come. NOM.

* * *

As for today, I’m in the grips of the anxiety demon, though so far, it hasn’t gotten the advantage of me for the throw and the pin. I uploaded photos to Flicker this morning and the slog through the backlog continues. I’ve become far more selective of what I am choosing for series in general and what I’m not. Practice. It catches up with you.

The Bean was super mopey this morning and that didn’t help my brain either. Made pancakes in self-defense, which seemed to perk her up.

The Mouse has a birthday party to go too. I have no idea what that’s going to entail.

Oh, and I started cleaning the kitchen. No wonder I’m already tired, and amping up on the anxiety. So I will breathe, and stay centered, and stay present. Take my time. And if anyone doesn’t like it, they can suck my dick. Honey badger don’t fucking care.

And that’s it so far. Hope your Saturday is less full than mine.

Untitled

Jul. 19th, 2016 10:25 am
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Untitled

Mind is just not coming up with titles, though again, this just screams science fiction book cover.

NOM.

* * *

Immediately got sucked into working this morning. A good sign, but glurg. I look up and two hours have flown by and I have had nothing but coffee.

Oops.

I feel good this morning. Really good. I appear to be balanced and stable with the new med combination and I am so fucking grateful. I can think again. The panic makes it impossible to think or problem solve. This has given me my mind back. Let’s hope this sticks for a while.

* * *

Holy crap, my butt hurts. My trainer and I really kicked it. Lots of slow yin yoga today. Ow.

* * *

Showed the Mouse where the basil was in the garden, how to identify it and what its characteristics are. I am my father’s daughter. Instead of physic lectures, i give herbalism lectures. I hope I am not as repetitive though. Though who knows? It amuses me to think that in the far future, she’ll give the same lecture to some other small one and keep the knowledge going.

But now my hands smell like fresh crushed basil and it makes me so happy.

I have hard things to do today, but I don’t feel like toad swallowing first thing. So it’s Muscle Milk for me and work on the Magician and High Priestess next, which sounds absolutely lovely. It’s coming along.

* * *

And for the record, I am aware of the state of things in the world. I can’t help or avoid that. I am an analytical type by nature and subscribed to too many feeds that cover politics, intelligence, and various other hard subjects. And I know only one thing. What you focus on persists. What you *resist* persists. Not to say that there isn’t a time to fight, because fuck yeah, sometimes you have to fight. But if you, yourself, are not directly harmed?

I’m starting to think that you have a moral duty to do an act of kindness or create some beauty or make where you stand somehow better in the face of these things going on in the world right now. A freaking geas, if you will. It’s not being Pollyanna. I keep saying it.

It’s defiance.

* * *

Don’t forget that Strange Weather is free over at Amazon for the rest of the week! Whee!

* * *

T-minus 8 days and counting!

Fool & Dog

Jun. 28th, 2016 07:56 am
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Fool and Dog

And Colette returns to her usual Derpness. Pack Derp, represent!

The feminine curve of the shadow down the spillway, mirrored in the black paint at top is what does it for me on this one. It’s the mirage of water that should be there, but isn’t, because of the drought here in Cali.

It’s the promise of Green. Some day. Some where.

* * *

Getting shit done and knocking stuff down. It’s a wonderful feeling. As I often say, better living through chemistry. Slept well and dreamlessly, though a nice dream would have been lovely. I miss the dreaming when it’s absent.

The High Priestess has found its optimal gear, apparently, and I finished the carving lines on the Magician’s wand last night. We ride on, shiny and chrome.

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Fool's Progress

I just like the quiet contemplation of this one. It was my other choice for promo image.

* * *

Actually slept…ten hours? Or something like. Got up a couple of times to go to the bathroom, but still slept like the dead when I was sleeping. So clearly the bad neurochem yeserday was at work. I have some mild anxiety running this morning, but I’m working at breathing and staying present before I resort to the Klonopin.

Today is warming up hot. 91′ it projects, but it’s 83’ by 10:30, I’m going to call that bullshit and set out to water a couple of times today, or my pots are not going to survive. HIgh surf advisory too. Everything is fucked. Humidity is already at 54%. Where the fuck is the monsoon? UV Index is through the roof too. Fuck’s sake.

I am tired and sad though still, mentally. Reading Warren Ellis’ weekly newsletter and gods, the fury and grief rolling off his words. I don’t have half his skill, but whatever. He’s been doing it longer. Things are ugly in the European Union, and uglier in England.

Where is my Lionheart now?

Nope

Jun. 25th, 2016 08:24 am
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Nope

At one point as I was sending Mouse up the spillway, there was this point. Colette flat out refused to go further up. Never in my life have I seen a dog nope the fuck out of a situation like this. Cracked me up.

It doesn’t work for the Fool card though. The Fool never pays attention to the Dog. Though I do love the look Mouse gives Colette, like “What? Now you’re a chicken?”

Pack Derp, represent!

* * *

Had anxiety dreams before waking, but no pounding rabbit heart panic attack. Huge improvement. But have still taken my meds and I should feel more settled in half an hour.

The rest of the house still sleeps except for the animals. I am grateful for the quiet.

It’s expected to only get up to 88′ today, which means I will spend a fair amount of time in the garden today, if body and brain are amenable. This morning is cool and delicious, just 67′ and a light breeze. Summer morning and the sun doesn’t feel like a brand. They say mostly cloudy, but I’m not seeing them this morning. I’m assuming if any, they’ll roll in later.

Ares

May. 30th, 2016 10:47 am
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Ares

I gave her my card. She’s leaning up against war rig #2 and even if I don’t use this one for the Magician, I am definitely hoping to use both of them in one of the other cards. She was nearly six feet tall. QUEEN.

* * *

Memorial Day.

I sat outside with Colette and yelled at her for going all predator on the squirrels and birds. Her prey drive is insane. Pain in the ass dog.

Line edit on Strange Weather continues. Man, I’ve clearly leveled up as a writer.

In other news, I am angry with the world, which points to the irritability/anger version of my clinical depression. Not so much being in the hole as wanting to set the hole on fire while I sit in it. I don’t recommend it. But saying it out loud seems to help. So. Another rest day. Tomorrow should be better. *knocks wood*

* * *

You know the drill. Tell everyone! 🙂

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Badlands Duchess

The Badlands Duchess Herself, Dianna Condon, leader of the Wasteland Badlands Tribe and Circus. Yes. Circus. LOVED her look. Also turns out we know a lot of the same people, as she is a sister bellydancer! Color me not at all surprised to have found this out.

This is from the Wasteland Weekend Car Show this past Saturday. It was so much damn fun.

* * *

Have unfortunately read a few depressing author blogs talking about how they’re not going to bother with trying to have a writing career anymore, because they didn’t/don’t sell. They’ll write for themselves. But no one will see it. Something about that really bothers me and makes me feel so fucking sad.

And then there was a comment I saw on a photographer who I admire, on his Facebook, from a fan who chastised him for using smoke in a shot because it was “pollution” and why didn’t he have more respect for the Earth? The photographer in question is a huge environmental activist and supporter. I just can’t even.

Color me crazy, but one photographer’s use of smoke in a shot is not the reason the world is dying. Talk about aiming the ire in the wrong direction. But that’s just it. People don’t feel they can be heard by those in actual power, so they turn on each other like rats in a too small cage.

Yeah.

I see posts from my peers that mean in varying degrees that things are shit today. Which is okay. Some days are shit. Pretending they aren’t doesn’t make them go away. Bad days exist. Refusing to acknowledge them, again, doesn’t make them go away. It just dismisses lived experience, which I’m finding is a super bad idea for mental health.

I feel beaten today. I have to get an additional gig as fast as possible. There’s the bare bones of it. I don’t like being desperate, and I’m not? Because it’s not desperation so much as urgency and I don’t handle stress and pressure very well right now. Depression is telling me I’m alone and no one wants to be my friend or even wants to know I exist, and really no wants me, period, which I *know* is bullshit, but there it is.

I turn 46 this year. I’m not rich and famous. I’m in process. They don’t tell you that all of life is being permanently In Process, or maybe that’s just me.

This is scattered and all over the place and that’s okay too. So I tell myself what I would tell my friends. Hang in there. This too shall pass. Get present. Breathe.

Just breathe.

* * *

The Magician cruises along at 37% with 12 days to go. I know we’ll get there. Please spread the word!

Io Pan

May. 23rd, 2016 03:13 pm
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Originally published at Curse & Quanta. You can comment here or there.

Io Pan

or: we say hello to the Pan in the garden.

The green dots are the lasters that were lit throughout the space as little green stars. Absolutely wonderful.

It’s super noisy because of the low light, but I love grain/noise.

* * *

It was a Lost Weekend, but the best kind of Lost. I had an amazing time at the Wasteland Weekend Car Show on Saturday and got a lot accomplished, which included acquiring the first of many large wrenches. (I LOVE MY WRENCH.)

I didn’t get enough sleep last night. I was just so wiped out from the show. But like I said, it was amazing and I’m super glad that I went. It was wonderful fun and just being out on the road felt so good. I had a working audio cable for my phone, my music, nothing but road, and no hurry to be anywhere.

Of course the anxiety tried to eat me alive on Sunday, but that is it’s job. David tells me that it’s logical that I have these reactions. These reactions helped me survive my childhood and my younger life. It did what it was supposed to do. It kept me alive. I just don’t need it now, not in that way and learning that, when it’s all limbic system and lizard brain… It’s all aversion training, which sucks fucking ass.

But the disorder was and still is…a gift.

So today, I’ve been telling the feeling in my solar plexus that I am grateful, that I appreciate it so much, but it can stand down. I don’t know if it makes a difference. But I’m not as pranged today.

In the meantime, both husband and I are on the hunt for the next gig. The life of freelancers.

In the second meantime, I think we need to find Colette another forever home. She escaped the Ant today, and the Ant got injured in recovering her. This isn’t acceptable. It would be one thing if I had the kind of life and money that could be devoted to a dog of this intelligence and activity level, but I don’t. I still need to talk to the girls though. Colette is all of our dog. I can’t make this decision alone. It’s heart-breaking, but I don’t know what else to do.

* * *

Fabric is in production at Spoonflower. WOOO. We have 13 days left to get us to the Green Place. Please spread the word!

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Night Garden II

I love that this looks like a shoe ad out of Vogue Italia.

Speaking of which, if anyone at Vogue Italia wants to hire me for an editorial, holy cats, am I your girl.

* * *

Things are up in the air again, here at Casa de BiGJAM.

*shrug*

It is what it is. We always land on our feet. This happens, it keeps happening. I’m working to change it.

Had a really good and productive session at therapy today, but it’s stirred up a lot of shit. See things being up in the air.

It’s hard not to think that there’s something wrong with me, except that there is something wrong with me, I have a mental illness and it’s eating my head. So I breathe. It doesn’t make me easy to live with. I wish that it weren’t so, but there it is. At least I’m working on it. I’m able to dredge up a thin shred of compassion for myself because of that.

I am working on it.

In the meantime, I’ve got availability for photography slots or any of my other skill sets, so if you know of a gig for the next month to two months, let me know. Ideally, I’d like to point a camera at things, but I wear a lot of hats. If you need something sewn, or tax related, or written, I’m (again) your girl.

In other news, the campaign rumbles along. We’re at 31% with 23 days to go. Not too shabby. But as always, if you can only spread the word, please please please do. It helps so much.

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Mirror Mirror

Actually, a glass of wine would be lovely right now. It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?

* * *

I’m doing better today. Yesterday was spent in the hole for most of it, though I managed to pull myself out by the evening. Art and tequila will do that for you if you let them.

C sent me an absolutely hysterical photo this morning of himself in his utilikilt with a lace petticoat. Trust me, it’s funny as shit, because of a thing he said to me last week and helped me start the day off with a giggle and a gigantic smile on my face. I am really blessed in my friends and chosen family.

Props continue. I’m stalled on the Fool’s staff until I can get my ass to Home Depot for eye hooks to screw in to hang bits off the staff. Trust me, it makes sense in my head. Man, I’m asking you to trust me a lot today. I will do my best to be worthy of it.

The Fool’s bag though continues. Most of the trad embroidery is done (I realized I want to satin stitch the nose and need to go back and do that), and I’ve gotten all the leaves on and one of the vines. Then it will be all the ribbon roses, montees, and rhinestones I can eat to stick on it. Honestly, construction will probably take the least amount of time for any of these pieces. It’s taking the time to do the embellishment that’s really taking these props from meat to holy crap. I’m very happy.

In the meantime, we hold steady. It’s Wednesday. We’ve got a month to go.

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Night Garden

This is from the shoot I did May of 2014? 2015? Gah, no brain.

I’m in the hole this morning. Again. Only one way to go. Up.

But I have gone to the bank and I have taken my meds. That right there is good. So. Yeah.

My desk is buried under paper and embroidery supplies. You’d think I was working on a giant art series or something.

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So. Campaign for the next trump in Tarot Apocalyptica is up and live — The Magician.

It’s funny, but this is harder than the first.

I’m in the hole right now. Anxiety brain is trying to eat me and depression has me low. I’m still functional, just slow today. I’m figuring out how to make all of this work. Even while bits of my brain wind themselves in knots of self-loathing.

The Fool is coming along, I dare say brilliantly. The staff is almost complete, and I have the materials for the Fool’s pack to cut. I found a piece of faux leather left over in one of the work bins from a while back that’s perfect. Embossed peacock eyes. Small scale, so it won’t read that well in the image, but I know it’s there. I cling to the work and bury myself in it while I wait to see my shrink at the end of the month. Art as treatment modality.

Which is good. Isis (one of the cats) pushed a bowl off my desk and it shattered. That was how this morning started. I feel somewhat like the bowl. The day got off to a very rough start.

So I shall paint my face like Furiosa and fang it.

There’s still seventy-eight months of work and some change ahead of me. The Magician awaits.

I need your help. I’m hoping you’ll keep riding this war rig with me. Please support directly by pledging to the campaign or spread the word. Just the last bit alone is a huge thing, as getting heard is sometimes the hardest part of these things.

I am really looking forward to riding further with you. It’s a doozy.

Witness me!

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Waiting for the Stars to Align

Yeah. What can I say here that I haven’t already said a lot of times before?

So.

Yeah.

* * *

I’m doing better than I was first thing this morning, but only just.

I should be driving to Utah right now. I should be running tomorrow in Zion.

Instead, I am here. It just didn’t work out. It never seems to work out. Any time I want to do something for myself like this, it always bankrupts us or is done at so low a level as to be almost unpleasant because I can never afford really nice accommodations and really excellent food. I’m sick of living a low rent life. This is why I’m so aggro about the Not So Sekrit Projekt. Why I’m refusing to do it on a shoestring. I’m done with that. I am sick and tired of cutting pieces of myself off to be small enough to be comfortable enough and unthreatening enough to people around me.

Tired. I’m just fucking tired.

I hurt, heart-hurt.

Yeah, that would be the hole. Hello.

If I could do anything, I would be getting on a plane right now and heading to Zion. Staying at the nicest place I could get and renting a jeep, toting all of my camera gear and then some. And I would stay for a week, because I’d have someone here to take care of the Ant and the girls.

Fucking hell.

Oh well.

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Originally published at Curse & Quanta. Please leave any comments there.

5 A.M.

I know.

What am I supposed to do? The Mad Model gives you a fringe vest and says put it on the Amazing A. What? I was gonna say no?

Nope.

Glorious, isn’t she?

* * *

Turned on David Gilmour first thing this morning. I need more of Rattle That Lock. I swear, when life is hard, it’s his voice that gets me through. Back in the day, it was A Delicate Sound of Thunder and A Momentary Lapse of Reason. Learning to Fly still lifts my soul up. One Slip always makes me drive faster. On An Island leaves me wistful for travel.

Poison in the brain this morning, which is why the immediate application of prog rock. I’ve been thinking about promises and a Not So Sekrit Projekt. I’ve been thinking about how we have to Save Ourselves. And how that can hurt like hell at times. Especially for someone like me.

It’s House. It’s Everyone Lies.

It’s from the very beginning of my life and my father never keeping a single promise he ever made to me that was important. Stupid shit like never taking me to Disneyland specifically to take me and not paying for college after he swore that he would take care of it.

That’s the ultimate first betrayal. If you can’t trust your parents to take care of you, who the fuck can you trust? Certainly not the rest of the fallible human world. I loved him, but I could never trust him. I love him still. But look, he couldn’t even stick around long enough to see his grandchildren.

*sigh*

See previous statement about fucking poisonous brain.

So. I went to the gym. Pounded the crazy out of the brain. I need to get boxing gloves, or MMA gloves, so I can work one of the heavy bags.

Sometimes you just need to hit things really hard till the world makes sense again.

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Ill Met By Moonlight

Prints are available HERE

* * *

Well, woke up feeling angry this morning and ruminating about a person I didn’t need to be renting brain space too, which is just ridiculous, because who fucking cares? It’s a situation where the person in question is so fucked up, nothing I could do or say will ever punish them as much as their own actions.

So why am I fucking renting them space in my brain?

How does this pay my fucking rent?

Didn’t know what was going on with my brain chem this morning, but it was not productive or helpful or healing. Leave people to their own hell as Pinhead would say. I’ve got my own.

So.

I woke up angry.

What the hell?

And out of nowhere, an old friend asked me what it would take for me to shoot my own deck of Tarot cards.

Oooookay.

I hear you, Goddess. I don’t know what is going on, but I hear you.

I get it. Will keep breathing.

And apparently start taking notes for a tarot deck and a series of seven highly inflammatory nude Sins.

When in doubt, make moar fucking art.

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Yeah, the Page seems dubious about Oberon’s offering…

You can buy Quick Bright Things HERE

* * *

This week is slammed with things from gills to tail and I am making an effort to not get overwhelmed and that means, of all things, slowing down.

It’s a hard thing for me. Slowing down. But it’s slow down and breathe or watch my neurochem tank. It’s literally an act of self-preservation, an effort to continue my survival. I don’t like that it’s that severe, but it is.

I’m still not used to it.

In the meantime, I wrote a paragraph on the novel and am listening to music to help keep the brain balanced.

“Small moves, Ellie.”

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