Art!

art·ist

/ärdəst/

noun

artist; plural noun: artists

:a person who produces paintings or drawings as a profession or hobby.

Everyone is familiar with the age old question: What do you want to be when you grow up? My answer has always been a moving target. Up until 10^th grade I wanted to be a doctor or a veterinarian. A career aptitude test squashed that dream. According to that particular test I wasn’t doctor material, but would make an excellent nurse. Interesting…..

By my senior year in high school, I still didn’t really know. I applied and was accepted to the only college I wanted to attend, Penn State (We Are!!!) without deciding what I wanted to be. I was put into a category known as Division of Undergraduate Studies, also known as DUS. No big deal right? Wrong. DUS gets to pick classes last, so not only was I last in seniority, freshman pick last, I was last of the freshman to pick classes. And this was a million years ago when you had a book to look through, an advisor to see and faculty to talk to before you were allowed to try for the classes you wanted, with no guarantees you’d get them. I enrolled, along with 34,932 (yup, I looked it up, that’s the actual # of students who enrolled that fall, just at main campus) other students in the fall of 1985 at University Park, also known as main campus. Can I say I had some of the oddest classes my first semester freshman year? Just two were: Sociology: The Demystifying of Ancient Man and English: The Analysis of Science Fiction. I also took the regular freshman classes where a typical class had over 300 students in it.  Fun!

That lasted for one semester. I declared my major, Elementary Education, K-6, with a minor in Social Sciences (just so I could get credit for those 2 odd classes listed above) my 2^nd semester, pretty much  just to get real classes. It wasn’t necessarily my dream, but it served its purpose.  

Fast forward 6 years and I wanted to be a Pharmacist. For real, I totally did. I almost did it too. I was working at a drug store and they offered to send me to pharmacy school, for free! As long as I signed a promise to work for them for 5 years post-graduation; I didn’t do it, I ended up moving to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina instead. I wonder what my life would be like if I had instead moved to Philadelphia and gone to pharmacy school. I wouldn’t have met my Debi or the kids or have my Little Man or my Pumpkin. Maybe we would have met anyway, hard to say about destiny, but I don’t regret not going to Philadelphia, nope not one bit, I wouldn’t have my family.

Fast forward a dozen years and I now want to be a lawyer. I know, I know, I am a bit fickle. I marinate on something for awhile (sometimes for years) and then change my mind. This last adventure began 6 years ago, I am in the final stretch but crossing the finish line....has been delayed, just until I figure out some logistics. It’s not on hold forever, but just for the moment. 

As I said, I’m a bit fickle. But, the one thing I have always loved is art; pretty much any medium, any artist. I love to read, I love music, I love photography, I love the fine arts, paintings, sculpture, drawings and so on. Some of these I can actually do. If you’ve been following my journey you have seen some of my photos, but I can draw, I can paint and I can write. Most of my drawings have been in pencil and landscapes, cityscapes, dragons, trains, anything OTHER than a portrait and always in pencil. My paintings are along the lines of the impressionists, Monet, Manet or even Van Gogh, but again no people. My photography has recently turned to portraits, mostly because of my Pumpkin, but in the past it had always been unusual angles or patterns and such, you know “Arty”. I have always been someone who keeps a journal and the way I lull myself to sleep is by telling myself stories, sometimes they’re pretty good and I write them in my journal, never to see the light of day, but they’re written down.

If I could be absolutely anything I wanted to be, with no worries about making money or logistics of how to do it or any of the usual things that bog down a grown-ups’ dreams, I’d answer: Artist

Recently, I have wanted to figure out how to draw/paint people. Mostly because of my obsession with the chicks of Lost Girl, but whatever motivates you right? I have done some drawings in ink, colored pencil, pen and of course graphite. I heard from an actual artist, in order to master your art you have to draw or paint or write everyday....so that’s what I’ve been doing:

Anna Silk india ink

Classic Bo india ink

 

Pumpkin pencil

Anna & Zoie india ink painting

Anna Silk pencil

 I have some colored pencil drawings in the works:

Zoie Palmer ala Warhol

 Until we meet again....thank you for reading and enjoy the day!

A walk

ex·er·cise

/eksərˌsīz/

noun

noun: exercise; plural noun: exercises

1.      1. activity requiring physical effort, carried out especially to sustain or improve health and fitness.

"exercise improves your heart and lung power"

This weekend, my Debi and I decided we needed more exercise and went for a walk. We went to a local recreational lake, Lake Johnson. It's about 3 or 3.5 miles, not sure exactly how long it is...I was more concerned with the elevation. It's really a beautiful lake where you can rent paddle boats, canoes and kayaks with a "walking" trail around it.They call it a walking trail, more like a practice run at Everest, if you ask me, but I'll get to that in a minute.

Lake Johnson: Fembot Kill Zone in the distance

I have fought my weight pretty much my entire life, sometimes I win, sometimes I lose.  Currently, I am kind of winning. I gave up sugar on New Year's (mostly) I have a little every now and then, nothing like I used to. I've lost weight, sure,but the biggest difference is in how I feel about myself, the improvement in my attitude and generally I just feel better. I had to add exercise to my routine, in order to improve the rate of weight loss and I did, a little at a time. I walk everyday, about 3-5 miles, depending on how hot it is, I live in North Carolina and it's summer after all. I used to be able to walk for hours, but that was 15 years and a desk job ago. I don't quite have that stamina at the moment, but I'd like to get back to being able to walk for hours and not even think about it.

If you follow my adventures, you know my last one was a round of Chicken Pox. I feel human again, but I haven't been able to exercise for about 10 days and let me tell you, the body and the brain quickly forget. It was a beautiful Sunday, not too hot, not too humid,  somewhat rare in North Carolina in August and we decided to go for it!

 We had taken this walk many times, once through a thunderstorm, that was...memorable. I remembered the thunderstorm, the exposed section I call the Fembot Kill Zone, the rain and how someone really had to pee, but I forgot about the hills or mountains should I say.

When we arrived, I suggested we walk the flat part up to the Fembot Kill Zone (if you don't know what a Fembot is, check out the Bionic Woman Episodes 19/20, Kill Oscar Part 1 and 3, Part 2 was on The Six Million Dollar Man. The short story is the Fembots all get struck by lightening chasing Jamie and Steve across a dam which looks just like a part of Lake Johnson. And let me tell you, that episode was running through my brain on loop during that lightening storm experience.We walked over the Fembot Kill Zone without incident, I might add and continued to the the hilly part.

As we were walking and talking, I kept trying to remember how steep these hills were and how many? I was secretly wishing my Debi would tap out and I found out later, she was thinking the same. We reached the point of no return and the first really, really big hill. I mean it is practically a straight vertical rise to the sky. Huffing and puffing we made it to the top, how many more were there? One, two, three or more? Racking my oxygen deprived brain, I came up with...nothing.

By the time we got to the third and I hoped final ginormous hill, there were Zombies chasing us and I was about to scream. But no, there was one more, we thought, we could hear the traffic from the road where we parked, we had to be close right? Why did we continue on after the Fembot Kill Zone, why?!

Halfway up what turned out to be the final hill, I broke, I exclaimed, "If there is another hill I will lose it, I can't take this mentally, the not knowing what is around the corner, Debi. I can't do it!" Looking back on it, I may have been a little bit dramatic,but it felt right in the moment.

Then, just as the final Zombie was about to overtake us, Hallelujah! I see the parking lot and the stairs, we made it through another walk around Lake Johnson. As we were leaving, having survived our latest adventure, we looked at each other and said:

"We should totally do this more often!"


Thanks for reading and until next time....Enjoy the day!
  


  

Chicken Pox?

chick·en·pox

ˈCHikənˌpäks/

noun

noun: chicken pox

1. an infectious disease causing a mild fever and a rash of itchy inflamed blisters. It is caused by the zoster virus and mainly affects children, who are afterward usually immune.

This week's adventure is rather surprising, at least it was for me. You see for the last 10 days or so I have been, for lack of a better word, suffering the effects of having the Chicken Pox...again!

I had the Chicken Pox when I was under the age of 2, I believe I was about 18 months or so and while I don't remember the event, I do have the scars and photos to prove it. Apparently, you CAN get the Pox again, it's rare, but it happens. I do like being unique, although this time I could have done without that designation.

It all started on Thursday at 5 am, almost 2 weeks ago now, with a headache and a fever. I took some Tylenol and went back to bed, waiting to see what I'd feel like when it was time to get up to get ready for work. I woke 2 hours later, soaking wet, fever and headache gone. Huh, well, I went on to work, the headache coming and going throughout the day. Friday was more of the same, headache on and off. I came home Friday after work, my head pounding and the fever was back, with a vengeance.

I went to bed early, didn't even stay up for my new favorite t.v. show, Dark Matter....there's this Android....super cute....anyway.....

I woke up Saturday, fever, headache, more Tylenol and back to bed. I was supposed to see my Pumpkin on Saturday, I had to pull the plug on that visit. Debi sent me off to bed while she doused the house in Lysol and cancelled our plans. Sunday and Monday, more of the same. I called out of work on Monday....waaaay too sick.

Debi came home Monday night, looked at me and said, "What's wrong with your face?!" "My face?" was my dazed response.

She dragged me to the bathroom, shining a flashlight on my neck, face and chest. I looked in the mirror....I was covered in small, red blotches. I had no idea they were there, they didn't itch and I had barely moved from the couch all day, let alone gazed upon my reflection in a mirror.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that's Chicken Pox." was what she declared. "It can't be that, I've had them, when I was little, little."

Turns out, she was right and I was wrong.

I went to the Dr. the next morning. Initially, she said, looking at my intake sheet, she figured it would be shingles....nope, didn't fit what I was presenting. I had the rash on my face, neck, chest and as I sat there, they were popping up on my arms.

She asked, "do you have any on your back?"
"I don't think so." was my reply.

"Do you mind if I take a look?"
"No, go right ahead."
"Hmmm, well, your back is covered."

 Her diagnosis....Chicken Pox

My response to that statement was an incredulous, "What do we do now?!"

She gave me a prescription for an anti-viral, a ginormous blue pill I had to take 3 times a day for 7 days. That was horrible.

And a note, I was contagious until my red rash had scabbed over and I was fever free for 24 hours, I wasn't going back to work until the following Monday. I was out of work for the next 5 days, unless I had the option of working from home, although she suggested I should only do so for 4 hours.

Turns out, I could barely manage those 4 hours without taking a nap and working from home sucks! I always thought I could be one of those people who never left their house...nope, not me. I can however watch A LOT of T.V.

Netflix does this thing where, based on your viewing history, they make suggestions on what to watch. There were a couple of intriguing shows that showed up as top picks for me:

Wentworth (because I watched Orange is the New Black)
Xena: Warrior Princess (because I watched Lost Girl)
Spartacus (because I watched....not sure where that one came from)

I watched a couple of episodes of Wentworth, as I was watching I realized it was a re-imagining of an old show I watched when I was a kid: Prisoner Cell Block H. Fascinating! I'll have to go back to that one, I was in an odd frame of mind and it didn't really hold my interest, but well worth giving it a second chance later.

I missed the Xena boat when it was on originally in the '90s, we didn't have cable at the time, but I was well aware of Lucy Lawless and her....Xena-ness, I mean what gay chick isn't? I watched a few episodes, but since they're from the '90s the quality isn't all that great and why did they make her mask her tantalizing New Zealand accent? I watched a couple episodes and moved on.

Which brings me to Spartacus, my newest obsession. Who knew a bunch of practically naked men, who are slaves and training to be gladiators, spilling blood and guts and sweat everywhere would grab my interest and keep it? I've watched a season and a half so far and my fever fueled dreams have been filled with gladiators....

Who knows what adventure I'll have once I am fully recovered from the Pox, it has, to say the least, kicked my ass.

Until next time......enjoy the day!

Back to my first love: Photography

pho·tog·ra·phy

fəˈtäɡrəfē/

noun

noun: photography

1. the art or practice of taking and processing photographs.

   
   
   Last week I discussed fear, my personal fears in particular and my desire to overcome them to get to what I want. I want to be fearless, one step at a time.
   

   I love photography, I love cityscapes, landscapes and taking pictures of both. A week or so ago I took the bold step (for me anyway) of going to downtown Raleigh, by myself and walking the streets taking pictures. It was an exhilarating experience. I am typically too afraid to do something like this alone, but I did it and I got some awesome shots. 

   
   That's all I have for words this week, the rest is some of my favorite shots from that trip. Take a look, some of them are, if I say so myself, pretty good. Oh I have plenty more, maybe next week I'll share more.
   

   

   The view of the capitol from the science museum

   
   

   
   

   

   Tree lined sidewalk

   
   

   
   

   
   

   
   

   

   One of my favorite buildings

   
   

   

   My new favorite building

   
   

   
   

   

   This filter is fabulous!

   
   

Fear

A couple of weeks ago I saw this quote:

“Everything you want is on the other side of fear”

-Jack Canfield

That quote got me to thinking about fear and how it effects decisions and ultimately life.

fear

ˈfir/

verb

verb: fear; 3rd person present: fears; past tense: feared; past participle: feared; gerund or present participle: fearing

1.      be afraid of (someone or something) as likely to be dangerous, painful, or threatening.

"he said he didn't care about life so why should he fear death?"

synonyms:

be afraid of, be fearful of, be scared of, be apprehensive of, dread, live in fear of, be terrified of;

Everyone is afraid of something; the dark, big bugs, getting lost, success, failure…..the list goes on and on. I have plenty of things I am afraid of, most of which are irrational. I have a fear of not fitting in an airplane seat (I can), talking to people I don’t know (ironic since I manage a team.…in a call center). There are plenty more, but you get the idea. 

Something I’ve been afraid of for most of my life isn’t necessarily irrational. I’ve been afraid of looking foolish. I’m not certain when it started, maybe when I moved away from the neighborhood I spent most of my early life? I went from a city block with 30 kids to a street with 5 houses and 3 kids. Quite the change. I had to go to a new school where I didn’t know anyone. I used to know everyone, I used to talk to everyone, I never worried about looking foolish; I acted foolish on purpose, just to get a laugh.

That outgoing, boisterous, silly kid was replaced by one who observed, remained quiet, flew under the radar and was afraid of making a mistake. Maybe it was just my personality morphing into something new and would have happened anyway, maybe it was fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of not being liked, fear of a new place, fear of pretty much all of it. Eventually I grew comfortable with my new school, made new friends and I was no longer always quiet. But I still feared looking stupid or foolish.

I don’t like to take chances; it can make you look stupid. I try to say I don’t care what other people think of me, for the most part that is true, I just don’t want anyone to think I am stupid or foolish. 

That feeling ripples through your life from the mundane (drafting an e-mail to a co-worker) to the epic (meeting someone whom you hero worship) and can cause regret and my personal demon: envy.

I am envious of people who are unafraid. 

I had an epiphany. I always thought jealousy was my demon, turns out its envy fueled by fear.

Everything I want is on the other side of fear;  I plan on making it to the other side.

Join me on this next adventure: The road to fearless!

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