Creatrix

hold on

2007-03-20T10:19:00.000-07:00

'Bout explains it all at this moment.

the accidental snapshot

2007-01-10T08:35:00.000-08:00

This illness, disease or whatever I'm labeling it today, is my nemesis and my lover. It the shadow of my every emotion and the light of my every thought. It has changed me. No, it has revealed me.

I have been criticized for being "too nice" or giving "too much." Now, I cannot see how I could be "too" anything, for I have been holding myself back for so long. I worried if I let myself go I would empty myself and not have anything left to give. Or worse yet, that nobody would receive me. I waged an inner battle, pitting the guardian against the demon.

Now, I know I can pull magic out of the void.

I'd like to think of this illness as a metamorphosis. It is idealist of me, but so what if I suffer? It has not been in vain. I am seeing myself anew and I am thriving in some small way.

surviving 2006, sculpting 2007

2006-12-31T14:58:00.000-08:00

When I was around 15 I remember reading in one of those glamour magazines that to be sexy you needed to simply think about sex as often as possible. What a laugh! How could I not think about sex? It was the forbidden fruit, as was the self-pleasure I practiced after reading the smut novels I snuck into my bedroom, yet everywhere I turned it flashed neon in my face. I'm not even quite sure how I remained a virgin until 20, with so much repressed sexuality threatening to tear me down. Over the years since then it has became clear to me that I need more than just the fleeting moments of sex to allow my sensual nature to surface. Thus, I've allowed it to surface in my art, my words and in turn, my being.

This has been especially important for me and my unhappy health in 2006. I look back and see how healing and encouraging sensuality has been for my journey towards self-acceptance. I feel just a little more comfortable in my skin.

Here's to 2007! Happy New Year!

in the shadow of life

2006-11-14T13:01:00.000-08:00

photo title borrowed from the song by niyaz

between
i tried
to be the bridge
and span the two worlds
i reached far
but it was not far enough

instead
my bones lengthened
until broken
my skin stretched
until transparent
my spirit expanded
until lost into the stars

and now i am
in the shadow of life
in the shadow of death
between

-----------------------------------

I have reached uber hermit status. I cannot manage conversation and when I go out I like being silent, still in the crowd. I smile at people, make love to them, from a distance. I watch. I burn.

The emotional: How did I get here? or how did I become unveiled? I feel it was the pain, the suffering, and today I feel more connected to my pain then ever.

The physical: So far it's been labelled gastroparesis -- paralysis of the nerve controlling the stomach -- explaining the severe reflux and abdominal pain. The pain is constant. It hurts to eat and when I take the drug to help me eat (metoclopramide) at the recommended dose, I feel suicidal -- depression, insomnia and anxiety are side effects. As if I needed help in that department.

The conclusion: My will, though considerably thinned, is still strong. I will continue. I will exist. Somehow, some way.

the veil

2006-06-13T08:02:00.000-07:00

I had a vision/out-of-body-experience as a teen. (Nope, i wasn't into drugs. too afraid of them.) I floated out of my window and traveled to the main road close to a quarter of a mile away. As I hovered above the road, I saw the light over the horizon, breaking the dark, and a voice resonated in my head.

"This is your life," it said and then formations erupted in the road, disrupting the smooth asphalt with their uneven and jagged shapes. "These are the obstacles you must overcome," the voice continued.

The next thing I knew I was back in my bed, staring at the ceiling. I had not fallen asleep. I felt a strange euphoria for during the experience I had felt a sense of timelessness, yet only seconds had passed.

I rushed to my parents' bedroom and told them of my experience. I saw their look of fear change to suspicion. Needless to say, I kept the rest of my extraordinary experiences to myself.

It's too bad I held myself back because of fear of rejection. I felt then that being invisible was the only way to survive. It seems silly now, a moot point, because it was impossible to hide. Everything that made me different was as clear as the reflection others saw in my eyes.

I inspired fear in others because I was afraid to be me.

Though I learned this fear from my parents as a child, the fog eventually lifted and I became accountable for my part in the denial. I allowed myself a measure of emotion without judgment and started on the road to self-acceptance. At first, I relied on the truths of others to guide me, but then I found I had to un-learn almost everything in order to discover my personal wisdom, mySelf.

I do not know the full depths of that wisdom, but every moment I am willing to be me I caress that wisdom a little more. This is the root of my self-confidence. It has helped me embrace life in a new way that isn't solely based on desperation or fear.

It has helped me see that I am the veil. I choose whether to be transparent, revealing the beauty within, or opaque, tending to the beauty within. Because I am my own witness, I am proud of this revelation, but humbled by its minute meaning in the vast expanse that is me.
Comme

trinity

2006-05-24T12:04:00.000-07:00

how many am i?
none, all
more than i know
and less than i fear
it's all a matter of perspective(s)
why see with one vision
when you can have many
and allow the confusion
to uncover genius

(wisdom - ha! - by me, Jennifer)

three sps on the apple tree superimposed. i suppose one could tie in mythology, discover a latent meaning, here. or one could simply imagine a new tale altogether. it's a choice we make everyday.

unknown

2006-03-03T08:11:00.000-08:00

I gave up trying to abide by absolutes. There is always more to the story and my vision is constantly in flux. My personal truth is that I am true to whatever I am at the moment, but there is no absolute truth. The reason behind this is that truth in my life is usually constructed for the purpose of defending a idea or action. Now, I find myself unwilling to defend. I do not care to convince others that my vision is real or true. I only care that I believe it to be so.

*giggling in the background*

It seems I enjoy paradoxes immensely.

valentine's gift

2006-02-14T16:57:00.000-08:00

When I awoke this morning there was an inch or two of snow on the ground. Tabula rasa is what I called it. The snow melted by the end of the day, but something about it's unexpected arrival helped me get back on track.

During my teens, I developed what I thought was a zit on the bridge of my nose. Unfortunately, it wasn't acne and over a few months it became a fairly large skin colored mole. It was something I despised, but figured I'd have to live with.

Now, it exists only in memory. I worked through some doubt today and did something I've been wanting to do for 17 years. I had it neatly sliced from my face by a plastic surgeon. Its removal was my valentine's gift to myself.

I was surprised at how free I felt after it was gone. It is amazing how much emotion I had placed on that one mole, how burdened I felt by it. No longer! I am proud that I actually did something purely cosmetic for myself without feeling guilty.

2006-01-19T09:23:00.000-08:00

Apparently i cannot read because i had to get close enough to take the pic.

Nevertheless it inspired me. Trespassing to me is about respect, understanding the boundaries of others and myself. Sometimes trespassing my own boundaries is necessary. Sometimes others trust me to trespass their boundaries for the same reason or I trust others to trespass mine. It is all about the deep and utter knowing of safety, even in the most bare and vulnerable moments.

These moments are not necessarily physical, though I would call them intimate. They can be fractions of a second or lengthy processes. They only require the simple ideas of trust and honesty, but can assist in the complex peeling of many layers.

They are the "aha!" moments between strangers, friends and lovers.

trespassing
my heart hard, unrelenting
i trespassed
took what i needed
dug deep into your core
and tore from you without hesitation
the essence i craved

i violated you
laid waste to your boundaries
overwhelmed you with my need

i did what you asked of me
even managed to quell the hunger that grew
from consuming you

and then i asked you the same trespass in return

when it was done
we shared tea
and created our lives anew

onward ho!

2006-01-04T11:47:00.000-08:00

imitate to initiate...That's what I am doing today. I put on makeup and dressed up because I feel like crap. Since I'm very visual, I figure enhancing my outward appearance will in turn enhance my mood.

It's working and I find that revealing. Turns out spending time on my outward appearance is pampering. It all comes down to one thing...how I direct my energy. Directing energy towards myself instead of others in as small a way as eyeshadow or pinning my hair back immediately triggers a spark of self-importance.

Being ill for an extended period of time really drains energy and I am still choosing to deny myself of "frivolty" because I am worried I do not have enough energy to go around. Instead, I save it up as though I have to be prepared for an unexpected disaster when I will need to rise to the occasion. Typical survival mechanism for me. I am needing some balance in this area, as I'm starting to feel the need for drastic change.

At least I'll look good for my doctor's appointment tonight! :)

2005

2005-12-30T07:47:00.000-08:00

where shall I hide you?
to find you later
when you've been
cleared through customs
deemed safe
to serve a new life
an evocative memory

I think I will toast you
drink you down
with a shot of glenfiddich
allow you to ferment
in my chyme
where you can stew
see the error of your ways
and repent
all the pain you've caused me
all the joy you've shown me

for no span of 365 days
has ever changed me so
hung me to dry
kissed me awake
skewered my soul
and left me to bleed
tainting that oh so clean tabula rasa

there has been no year like you
and yet I cannot dawdle
I must cover your eyes
and embrace 2006

I hope he is as good a lover as you.

red

2005-12-20T17:16:00.000-08:00

I'm working on the dreaded artist statement. Why dreaded? Because I am intimidated by everyone else's education. I have no formal training in art. Thus, I've let that fear get in my way. Today, I found something helpful, a series of questions that allows me to get past the fear and move towards the artist statement. Here are three of my favorite questions used to assemble the main ingredients, with my answers.

1. How did you get into this work? I've always been a closet artist, wowing friends with handmade creations as gifts and keeping my sketchbooks locked up. I dreamed of being a painter but never believed I could manage the medium. It took the death of a dear artist friend to realize I did not want to die without realizing that dream.

2.How do you feel when work is going well? As though I am truly connected to myself and my power. It is when I feel most confident, creating art.

3. What is your favorite color? List three qualities of the color. Consider that these qualities apply to your work. My color preference changes routinely because I choose colors according to the qualities I've associated with them. When I need to feel calm I use blues and purples. When I vibrate with creativity I use orange and green. Overall, I would say I'm consistently drawn to red more frequently than other colors. Red is passionate, it speaks of life, rebirth, death, and determination. It can be a volcano of emotional lava needing to spill forth or a sensual curve of silk detailing the desire to connect with others. It is also a color of sacred healing for me, encouraging self-acceptance and the embrace of wholeness.

no escape

2005-12-14T15:04:00.000-08:00

I feel trapped within a blankness, a nothingness envelops me. It is a paralysis, me in a white room, the surrounding light too bright, too fierce. It sears my thoughts, steals my inspiration. I cannot see beyond it and when I reach out into it there is nothing to touch. There I am, cowering from the light, hugging my knees, trembling.

It is my void.

It is my core.

It is my power.

aka unknown novelist

2005-11-30T09:35:00.000-08:00

*insert happy dance here*

I did it! 50,000 words (plus a little) in this crazy month of November 2005. I am in shock, considering I was struggling in and out of writer's block for the whole time. Still...I DID IT!

Hmm...now what to do with the first draft of a novel? I think I will keep working at it slowly, add some more words (publishers rarely take less than 75000, right?) and submit it to a publisher. Perhaps, I'll turn a daydream into something more.

si-lence

2005-11-15T07:02:00.000-08:00

From dictionary.com:
1. The condition or quality of being or keeping still and silent.
2. The absence of sound; stillness.
3. A period of time without speech or noise.
4. Refusal or failure to speak out.

The only thing that holds me back is me. I know I have talent, but somewhere deep within I still believe it is not enough. I am not enough. My art is the only thing that approaches freedom of speech for me. Yet, I even manage to muffle that sound. I can create, but when it comes to finding avenues to market myself...I falter. I find it confusing that I was never afraid to market my skills as a web/graphic designer and now as a fine artist, I'm shaking in my boots.

writing is fun

2005-11-11T06:54:00.000-08:00

I'm pleased to say that I'm managing to keep in the running of National Novel Writing Month. I'm up to 21000 words. Yipee! I've been dedicating time each day and enjoying it. Usually, I don't give myself that much leeway to write. I guess I still feel that my writing is a hobby and not an ability worth exploring. *Makes me think I'm more like my Stalinesque father than I realize.*

I decided to rewrite a novel that I had once lost in a hard drive crash. It's mainly fantasy, but I'm all about the characters. I find myself getting sucked into the story and I have a feeling it will be pretty good after editing. I don't know what I will do with it once it's finished. Maybe do the happy dance?

The prologue:

The thunder had been of their making. It was the result of dream joining and shared prophecy. Now, they huddled together, a tight knot of limbs writhing, grasping at each other for comfort and protection from their combined anxiety. The prophecy had been unpleasant and as they gripped each other, they sobbed from the sheer weight of its implications. It was a dreaded foreboding and its evil clung to them.

They had been bonded at birth, the Three, in a ceremony that ensured peace and prosperity for the land. That divine bond was their source of strength, an almost infinite well of mutual respect, love and acceptance that they used to counsel the peoples. Now, it seemed even their bond could not offer comfort and salvation.

They continued to sob, until at last the shared vision faded enough for them to breathe deeply. They sighed in unison and untwined their limbs to sit in a tight triangle, facing each other on the floor near their shared bed. They clasped hands.

The tallest of the Three, Sto’men, spoke first, unfurling his majestic wings to envelop them. "We will have to tell them," he whispered, darkly. The erratic and blinding sparkle of his silky scales finally fading as he relaxed.

To his left, Yela released her hands from their grip. She reached to them and touched their cheeks, holding them in her gaze. “Yes, my loves,” she agreed. “It is our duty to guide and counsel. But, how to tell them this? How to tell them such darkness lies ahead?” Her voice was high, strained with guilt. With her breath was still rapid and her emerald eyes wide, a bright contrast to the ebony luster of her skin, she appeared fierce and beautiful.

A single tear slid delicately down her damp cheek and her gaze fell downward, her hands slipping from their faces to her lap in defeat. A beautiful, pale hand caressed the tear from her cheek, encouraging her to lift her eyes. She looked to final member of the Three, her eyes searching for hope.

Briten’s lyrical voice hardened with resolve. "Yela, Sto'men," he commanded them, "We are the Three. We cannot falter. We must walk the path we have dreamed."

three

2005-11-01T07:46:00.000-08:00

Real vulnerability is difficult. It requires the ability to feel open without attaching to the circumstances of others. For me, this is difficult because I never asserted my own identity until recently in my life. I gave without taking, without valuing myself fully. Now, I'm learning more balance.

Today kicks off National Novel Writing Month and I'm both excited and confused. I still haven't written my daily dose, but I'm looking forward to seeing what happens. I'm hoping if I'm vulnerable, open, then it will all fall into place.

when it all falls away

2005-10-14T09:09:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a crazy day. I was feeling the emotion build within and I figured the best way to deal with it was to do some of my own kind of therapy. Photo documentation. I allowed myself to go through the intense emotion and took pictures. Doing that helps me come to terms with what I feel. It also helps me to get past my need to analyze and pick things apart. Besides, it was either that or spew emotional vomit on a hapless victim, which can get messy. Though the pics are a day old now, it still makes my heart race to view this set. They are intimate in a way that scares me.

Here's the slideshow if you're curious: when it all falls away

cleaning

2005-10-01T15:39:00.000-07:00

Cleaning has long been a way for me to make things appear bright and shiny when underneath I feel cluttered and dark. My past is a sequence of false words, lies I told myself to survive because reality was painful. Thus, many years of fantasy have led me to see a blurry and confused reflection. Now, I sit armed with a bottle of window cleaner and some paper towel. I'm ready to clean away the grime beneath, even if that means the neglecting the surface dust. After all it's not like a bit of dust hurt anyone. Besides, I have a paper bag near by if the clean freak in me starts to hyperventilate.

On another topic, I finally finished revamping my personal site. YES! I celebrated with a glass of apple wine. drumroll please...Expressions of a Creatrix

alien-human-spirit

2005-09-30T09:30:00.000-07:00

oh how pretty they dance
oh how pretty they kill

they live for consumption and die for beauty
easy prey and unsatiable predators
loyal friends and clever enemies

i call them paradox

i am enrapt, tied to their fate
and i know
i will die for beauty too

Ah, the great feeling of alienation and how we find ourselves there. For me, it started when I was young. I've always remembered something of what I would call "other lives" on earth, that sense of familiarity coupled with pictorial flashes of events. I also remember something else, definitely not earth as I know it now. It made me feel very alien because everytime I tried to express myself I got shut down. I then learned to hide anything of myself that made me look odd or different. I wanted to belong, damnit! Well, that didn't work. I still was an outsider because I couldn't change how I felt or thought no matter how deep I buried it.

Thus, one day, I decided to tap into my subconscious and try my hand at free writing. I was surprised at what came out streaming onto the paper and it felt so very good because I wrote without judgment or overthinking. I still have those yellow lined note pad pages tucked neatly in my writing folder. I've let them be as they are, as they were placed with ink. They represent a part of me that I may not fully understand, but accept. In other words, I'm not worried about whether or not it's fictious and could stand up to criticism. I'm just glad that I stopped wasting my energy holding it within.

Now, as I am starting to delve into the dark spaces of my childhood, I think I might try that free writing once more. It might be the easiest way for me to remember the past without judgment. It also sounds gentler than those momentary flashbacks that leave me panicked. I guess there's a part of me that wants to be heard and accepted. It scares me, but I feel like it will help me from holding back so much of myself and my expression. FREEDOM! is calling.

wind

2005-09-26T11:04:00.000-07:00

It was the wind that first convinced me I could fly free as a child. Thus, I always greet it with a smile.

Over the weekend, I stood out on the deck of the ferry and felt the ocean wind through the San Juan islands with joy. As it wreaked havoc with my hair, re-assembling the tresses into something resembling a bird nest, my face nearly split from the effort of my huge grin. I leaned into the wind, encouraging it, and resisted the urge to do my goofy interpretation of highland dancing. How good it felt! and for that moment everything else faded away. It was just me and the wind once more.

For me the wind is like a tangible caress of life essence, a true connection and sharing of everything that is being. That is the freedom I crave. It was nice to remember that again on the ferry. Especially, when these days all I can see is overpopulation, overconsumption, destruction and false growth.

I hope I dream of wind tonight.

ragesagerage

2005-09-21T22:50:00.000-07:00

Ever wonder what it would be like to be so completely yourself that you never have need to conform again? I already sense what it feels like, tastes like even. I just can't manage to go all the way yet. For me it is summed up nicely in the analogy of a bridge, spanning many dimensions and aspects all at once. I am that bridge, only I do not quite span all the gaps just yet.

Managing the turmoil, the constant flux of creation, alongside the ideologies of a structure I put myself in is like trying to stop the blender's blade with my finger. Very messy. I get overwhelmed sometimes and can't put together a complete thought without straying on tangent after tangent, a bit like playing the association game. Other times the directivity is fierce and I make no pitstops.

Then, there is the special interlude when there is a balance. Not the forced balance that I can easily sacrifice myself for, but the gentle balance that makes my bones sing. That is when I feel a real bridging of one dimension or aspect. It's the moment when I stop judging and however brief that might be, it is still enough for me to continue the momentum.

stand tall

2005-09-09T16:22:00.000-07:00

It's one thing for me stand quietly and confidently in my truth, but to express it verbally is challenging. I've always been private, partly because I know people will form their own opinion about me regardless of what I say and partly because I am defiant. I know it is rarely about my truth, but about what others wish to hear.

There is also another reason. I am still avoiding saying no to people. I understand only too well the bitter sting of rejection. I am empathic and do not wish to cause pain to others. BUT, I do realize that it is not my job to be the protector. I just need to balance my joy of inspiring confidence in others with self-recognition. I have the right to say no when I want to and it has nothing to do with anyone else.

Thus, here are some things I am proud of:
- I did not back down and crawl back into a hurtful relationship with my mother. Even though she continues to try every manipulation at her disposal, I am standing my ground. I am supporting my decision.
- I now understand how valuable acceptance is and that I deserve to be supported by it and nothing less.
- I'm becoming less concered with how others see me because it's more important for me to see me through my own eyes.

Damn. I'm making good progress. I am going gently with kindness.

May you all do the same in your own way and with fire...yes, most definitely with fire.

birthday dream

2005-09-06T10:19:00.000-07:00

Today is my birthday and last night I dreamt that my friends from across the globe had thrown me a HUGE surprise birthday party. I mean it was a production! There were performances and I made a grand entrance. I felt like a queen and yet humble. The honoring made me feel so very grateful.

Thus, I awoke with a smile. Happy birthday to me.

memories

2005-09-02T09:58:00.000-07:00

A Cage of Flesh
One of my first pivotal memories of childhood was being outside during an electrical storm on the prairies of Alberta. At the age of three, my tiny form trembled with anticipation, as the air crackled around me. The energy was dense, tangible and I desperately wanted to open myself to it. When the lightning hit a quarter of a mile away I was transfixed by its beauty and everything inside me screamed to be released to change form. I needed to be that electrical current that surged from the clouds. I reached out with myself and felt my first twang of frustration and despair. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't become the lightning. I was trapped in my body, a cage of flesh.

Domestication followed.

The Reign of Domestication: Love is Earned and is not a natural right.
In the beginning, I loved everything around me. I saw Beauty in nature and it was easy to touch. I felt I was an integral part of this Beauty, just like everything around me. Wonder framed most of my childhood memories. Separation from the Divine wasn't an concern.

Then came a tiny seed of fear.

My parents were worried about my apparent strangeness. They did not appreciate my giving out of myself so freely. It was a matter of safety, their need to protect me from unseen danger. Thus, they taught me that Love was governed by strict laws. Love was not granted freely, but earned. In order to earn Love, I would have to supplicate others by bending my will to theirs. I would have to be self-less and not think of my own needs, for the desires of others were far more important.

This structure of Love was encouraged by the religious system I grew up in. In the context of Eastern Orthodoxy, Love was a gift bestowed unto only the most pure. To attain such a state, I would have to be an empty vessel, devoid of self, waiting to be filled by the holy spirit.

A part of me bought the lie and struggled to please. It was difficult to remain unaffected. After years of recluse, I fell into the trap of belonging. Because I was terribly confused by the structures and beliefs of others, I was worried about fitting in. I devised a crafty solution by borrowing the traits and beliefs of others and donning them like costumes and masks to suit the situation.

Sometimes in those years of domestication, the authentic part of me that still lived would emerge. In those moments, I would clumsily articulate my Self and explain my own feelings of Love. Responses were mixed and my ideas were labeled either as blasphemous or enlightened. Both labels only convinced me to remain hidden.

The tiny seed of fear had grown into a suffocating vine.

helping hand

2005-08-26T11:23:00.000-07:00

I've been overwhelmed by decisions lately. I find myself placing too much importance on any given decision. I worry about it's effect on tomorrow and the day after. Then, I think about the other decisions that will follow the initial one. I spiral into doubt. So I ask myself:

Is my future more important than my present?

My answer. No.

My truth is simple. I desire to live in the moment. I cannot save the world, nor do I wish to. It is enough to take care of myself and do that well.

I am my own helping hand and it's time to reach out for that hand.

frustration

2005-08-23T17:20:00.000-07:00

*warning: bitterness in the form of a horrid rant to follow. if you don't want to be offended, close the damn window!*

It's times like these where I want to crawl into some stone womb and hole up like a hermit. I want to scream "Go the F*** away!" I want to stop the madness. I want to blame somebody for this sinking feeling in my stomach. Instead I wrap myself in my blankie and go into cold rage. I LOVE this blankie and will eviscerate anyone who threatens to take it away. I wanna be cremated in it, wrapped tight like egyptian royalty with my eyes open wide and ready to embrace the flames.

Bring it on!

I hate that I retreat into myself because I can't muster the wherewithall to shut out the crazy, sensational ideals around me. My resolve weakens and I start to feel helpless, as though those ideals have somehow become my own and I have failed to live up to them. What the F***?

Die boszhe. (ukrainian blasphemy...nice touch, eh?)

Why the hell would I expect myself to follow the formula when I've never fit into it before? Everytime I try to follow the formula I end up in this place. This motherf***ing hell of frustration and disappointment. I'm so pissy right now, I think I could stand besides that "homeless" guy on the street (with suspiciously nice, clean clothes) with a sign that says: "I'm not homeless, but if it works for him...why the hell not give me your money too?" Yep, confrontation is a surefire way to get me in trouble. Go figure, I've never been to jail. yet.

Okay, I promise if I do that I'll take a picture and put it up on the new and improved commercialized flickr (aka "keep it pretty boys and girls. try not to rock the boat"). The truth is I'll most likely I'll just end up cuddling with my blankie, some popcorn and a violent flick like "Layer Cake." Yah, that just might help. My couch is much cozier than a cell bench. Then, I'll get up tomorrow and plug away at being an artist once more. It may not make me rich, but at least it'll distract me until I'm ready to face the lies and discover more of my truths.

herstory

2005-08-16T12:46:00.000-07:00

I just finished a biographical digital project entitled Creatrix: A Herstory. Here are some samples...(click on the above link for the real deal)

Page 4 & 5

Page 12

It's my alternate bio. I hate writing bios. I couldn't compliment myself with words to save my butt. Instead I compliment myself with visuals. Ah much better!

slavic gypsy

2005-08-10T10:41:00.000-07:00

My father moved us around to find work when I was a kid, we moved 8 times by the time I was 12, and that was my introduction to my way of the gypsy. It is a part of me I now enjoy, the ability to experience and adapt to change while maintaining a home within.

Of course this didn't become clear to me until I was older. I didn't like being a gypsy when I was a kid. Nobody likes to always be the outsider and I became quite introverted, with a tough shell of protection around me. That was how I survived.

Inside that shell I was very frightened. I never felt secure. I never knew what to expect and when something went wrong I didn't have any real home to run to. My home base was my family and I couldn't rely on them to provide me with the emotional security I needed.

When my father finally settled us down in a rural town for my junior high and high school years I perfected the art of outward serenity, everything bottled up tightly inside in my secret place. It was my only way of distancing myself. I threw myself into my studies and tried to bond with other outsiders, with little success. I was the straight A priss and subject to much jealousy and hatred. I was the nameless valedictorian with a speech in the yearbook that didn't have a signature. Many people made those years a living hell for me. Of course, I, the brilliant martyr, took it all in stride without complaint, as I had already learnt that my complaints would fall on deaf ears.

I suffered much emotional abuse in those years. I didn't speak up because I was used to running away. The frequent moving of my gypsy childhood had taught me I could simply solve a problem by removing myself from a situation. Thus, when we settled I internalized this. Ever time I got called down I would stand immobile and quiet while inside I was the gypsy running fast, far away from the pain.

Now you'd think I must have been very cold and incapable of affection. I was and I wasn't. To those I mistrusted, I was distant and polite, defiant in my silence. To those I befriended, I was fanatically loyal and guarded them fiercely from injustice. I accepted them unconditionally. Given the people in my world at that time, I would have had to. Otherwise I would have gone through with the suicidal thoughts that were always in the background. Somehow I saw beauty and love even in that darkness. I wasn't strong enough to see it in myself, but I saw it in others. That beauty is what gave me hope. It is what I was running to.

The great thing is that I never gave up. In searching for that beauty, I finally ran into myself and stopped. I listened to all that I never heard before. I gave myself something nobody else can. I gave myself freedom of speech, the right to be heard.

...and I'm still listening.

warning

2005-08-08T12:52:00.000-07:00

never look me straight in the eye
unless you wish to be unveiled
discovered to your core

just walk away
stop lying to yourself

come back when you know
what you are
until then it is only a game
of deception

I am feeling my rage today and its acid is burning a trail through my body. It is the moment when the crossroads melt from my heat and a new way is forged. It is the moment when I'm too angry to be afraid. I'm tired of waiting. Onward ho!

mugshot

2005-08-05T07:25:00.000-07:00

Due to some gentle nudging from Blue, I am one of the friendly faces greeting the visitors at Self-Portrait Day (bottom row, first on left). Have some fun and submit your mug too!

dream gently

2005-08-02T10:04:00.000-07:00

My chaos continues and I am juggling an array of emotions. This is one of those times when all I can do is ride the wave, accept the momentum and allow myself to be fluid. There are many changes happening and on their way. So I take a deep breath and try to dream gently.

The problem is I need to re-learn what gentle means to me.

chaos

2005-07-29T16:01:00.000-07:00

Inspired by the incredible sound, Alecto, found via Scarab Dreamer.

Here's to the enlightened vision only chaos can bring!

sensual self

2005-07-20T07:24:00.000-07:00

Lines of Separation

Sensuality has been a late blooming flower for me. I always knew it existed within. I could feel it's silky caress surge through my body when the lights were out or I was alone, but I never allowed it to blossom fully. I was afraid. Afraid that it would overwhelm me, change me without my consent. I had unknownly decided that someone else's view of sensuality was my own.

Why would I do that? My childhood was filled with fear of sex. Sex was dirty, impure. Of course anything sensual was tagged and hidden as well. I don't remember seeing my parents embrace in tender connection. Everything between them seemed clinical, as though they were simply doing their spousal duty. I'm sure that was only reinforced by their religion, where a woman's monthly blood flow made them unclean and women sat separate from the men in church. I was topically anesthesized by my environment.

Yet, somewhere along the line I began the process of re-learning. I decided I wanted to feel. I fed that flower within just enough to keep it alive until I was ready. I ensured that I was taking care of my Self and moving forward at my own pace. I discovered the amazing creative force I could tap into.

I slowly unfurled.

strength

2005-07-17T10:10:00.000-07:00

Strength is the only thing I have that is helpful when faced with image issues. I pull it on like stockings, a sheer coating of armor, that keeps the self-destruction minimal. It is my superheroine costume and I don it when I lose sight of my power. Maybe someday I won't need the costume?

finger painting

2005-07-12T11:21:00.000-07:00

I decided to put aside the brushes and use my latex covered fingers. This was done mostly with my left hand, though my right hand did put in its two cents here and there out of jealousy. I figured I'd have some serious fun and play with color.

I DID! :)

Hmmm...I'm thinking the next one will be much bigger. Too bad the walls are out of the question. I don't think my landlord would appreciate my artistic efforts.

never say never

2005-07-05T10:05:00.000-07:00

I have been struggling with some health issues for the past while. Some of the crazy symptoms: hives/rash on face, scalp, shoulders; insomnia; almost no energy; dry skin, ouchy cramps; nausea; muscle pain; headaches; etc. I was hoping all would right itself of course, as I dislike doctors. It didn't, but I got lucky and found a gentle docotor who ran some blood tests. Turns out I am allergic to a good deal of my diet, my hormones are imbalanced and I have slight hypothyroidism. In other words, my body is going "WAKE UP! I need some help."

Okay. I'm listening. What do I need to do?

Answer: Swallow my pride. I don't like medication. In the past my body has revolted violently to drugs and made me hesitate even when taking ibuprofen for the muscle pain. Yet, when the doctor asked me if I wanted to try the prescription or the herbal supplement...there was no doubt in my mind. I was done being stubborn.

Today marks my one week on the med and my body is barely protesting. I'm already experiencing increased energy and starting to feel alive again. I know the process will take time, but I'm worth it even if I have to stay on it for the rest of my life.

Lesson learned. Never say never. Forget the morality and remember the self.

Oh Canada

2005-07-01T07:33:00.000-07:00

...our home and native land...yes I'm singing proudly. Happy Canada Day!

Let's face it, Canada's a great place

I'm celebrating with smarties!

in review

2005-06-24T10:35:00.000-07:00

I believe this self portraiture journey is helping with my self acceptance. I still don't feel that comfortable with my self, outside and in, but I do feel a subtle shift. I feel less hesitant in my expression and less shocked when I see my face in the pictures. That's something. I am going to celebrate that today and remember that the small things, the miniscule changes, are important too.

magickal moment

2005-06-20T18:09:00.000-07:00

At the bus stop on the way home from the solstice parade, a little girl befriended me. It gets better...she had chalk! Artistic bonds formed themselves around us and she showed me wonder anew.

"What is that?" I ask.

"A rhino," she replies.

I eagerly inspect the drawing overhead, tilting for better angles. "Then this must be the horn," I state happily.

"No," she shakes her head quite patiently. "THESE are the horns. It's a girl rhino." She stops for a moment, clearly thinking something over. Then, her eyes flash and she's back to it, her chalk scratching the sidewalk fiercely as she draws two long lines.

"Wow, she's got long legs" I remark.

"Those aren't her legs. She's on stilts."

"It must be hard for her to balance on those stilts." I am serious, excited to know how she sees this.

She draws two dots underneath the lines. "She's got balls at the end of them to help her balance."

"Ah! now I understand." I smile. Of course I understand. I speak artist.

hekau

2005-06-13T09:49:00.000-07:00

What words of power do you keep locked away, hidden in your darkness?

Here are mine: I am enough.

Those three words shake my foundation. I feel terrified and powerful at the same time. Terrified because I know that those words make me accountable for my own life. They show me that I chose how to feel and what direction to face. Powerful because I know they are true to me.

Thus, they are my hekau.
hekau— utterances of pure potentiating intent that seek to fulfill and manifest themselves immediately upon being released from the mouth of the magus. Description taken from Heket, Exceed Your Prothesis.

pearls of wisdom

2005-06-05T12:33:00.000-07:00

When I was young I believed these pearls were magic. They belonged to my mother who presented them as near holy, likely because they were the only nice thing she had. When she gave them to me it was a ritual, a passing of a sacred heirloom.

Or so the fantasy played itself out. I know now that my mother's wisdom is not mine. I also know that neither are her pain, hopes or choices.

Thus, today I decided to celebrate my courage, my knowing that I can change the past by changing the present. I remade the pearls, cleansed them with my menstrual blood and claimed them as my own.

I present my pearls of wisdom with joy.

darma drama

2005-06-03T14:22:00.000-07:00

Following up on my mothers and daughters post. Warning: you're not catching me on a good day.

My mother sent me a nice little note tucked into a card yesterday. Usually I toss her correspondence into the recycling immediately. For some reason I read this one. I wish I hadn't.

"Jennifer, I would love some time with you. There is no room in my heart for any more grief in missing a special person in my life. Girl, I can't forget the years we had and could have. Jen, I want to see you and just be with you."

Twang! Ah, the drama! My heartstrings even waivered a moment. Luckily I am no longer easily seduced by lies, but the bitterness tastes unwelcome in my mouth. I almost want to laugh at the absurdity of it, how she acts like nothing has transpired between us. There is a reason why I have distanced myself and she knows this. I wonder what it's like to live in her altered reality?

My mother has been dying for many years now, clinging to one kind of disease or cancer after another. Can you imagine what it's like to have someone you love use the death card for attention over and over? Especially when you aren't certain whether the conditions are real? It wreaks havoc on your confidence, your ability to trust.

Now I must let go of this self-loathing before it takes me exactly where she'd like me to be...under her control again. Dammit! I am utterly frustrated in this place of between, where I know I cannot change the situation. I don't wish to sacrifice my well being and it takes two to compromise.

So, I remember to breathe. Yes, I reacted. But, it's okay. I'm doing the best I can. I mean my mother knows how to play me. She's been doing it for years. It's up to me to start learning a new instrument.

I was thinking something foreign and unusual....hmmm...maybe a sitar?

creative dreams

2005-05-25T09:15:00.000-07:00

Barbara over at Spirit Blooms has posed the question, What's your creative dream?

I have to admit, I froze up when I read the question. Like a deer caught in headlights, I instantly felt the heat of the 1000 watt interrogation lamps and my mind emptied of all inspirational thought. I sat wringing my hands and grinding my teeth, waiting...hoping.

Then, I remembered it wasn't a test. I giggled a bit at my initial reaction. It's always interesting how I hang onto archaic associations.

After reading her eloquent answer to the question, I am inspired to do the same. Thank you, Barbara! I'm going to chew on it for a bit and then post my thoughts.

cliche=touche

2005-05-20T15:51:00.000-07:00

Most of my creative energy in the past had been reserved for things I labeled productive. If I made something considered artistic it was because it was for someone else. As a gift, my creation had purpose. I even became a web/graphic designer to put my creativity into a productive arena. I figured I could turn my creative desires into something useful.

Well, the joke is on me.

By boxing my creative energy into something useful I've become the cliche I always wanted to avoid. The tortured artist. Touche!

Turns out that's who I've always been. I have an ability to create art. Why would I shame myself for such? Silly me. I mean, it's incredibly empowering for me to think of creative expression without worrying about whether the result will have purpose.

Exciting!

dentist trip

2005-05-17T07:11:00.000-07:00

Due to past experiences, I have a phobia of dentists. Luckily, I have found a way around such anxiety. A tiny little white pill called valium. Combine that with some laughing gas and I don't give a rat's butt what the dentist does to me.

Sunday night I took one before I went to bed. Then on Monday, an hour before my dentist appointment, I took another. When they put me in the chair, strapped on the nitrous and gave me a cd player (I brought Bob Marley) I didn't feel like I was about to jump out of my skin. My heart didn't explode with fear of pain.

I was high as a kite. My perception of time wrapped in on itself as I sang along to the cd, in between opening wide for the dentist. I'm sure I was quite entertaining. "Get up, stand up, don't give up the fight....ahhhhh....no woman no cry." I smiled a lot and enjoyed the ride.

Why? That little white pill helped me stare my fear in the face and laugh it down.

rising from the ashes

2005-05-14T23:13:00.000-07:00

For me, the hardest part about being sick for an extended period is the down time and the lack of creative fire. There are times when nothing seems real. I become disillusioned, tired of games, and I lose my tolerance for dishonesty. Even in its smallest doses, it irritates me. I want to scream, “Just be real!” but I know it doesn’t make any difference. Thus, I barrel down that shadow path of mine, the one that is the fine line between compassion and apathy.

Being sick humbles me greatly. It makes me realize that although I have come a long way, I still have more roads to travel within myself.

Here's to sharing the journey. Cheers!

river

2005-04-26T17:03:00.000-07:00

love me like a river
fall down my mountains
wind through my moss and trees
empty into my sea
and spend your soul

die a beautiful death
for once
where expectations drift away
with the tide
and your vibrance is unveiled
in orgasm

love me like a river...

wisdom surfing

2005-04-25T13:37:00.000-07:00

Kymberlee's "soft" post made me realize how much easier it is to be gentle with others and not myself.

Joel's wolf thoughts made me see how much sensuality I still keep hidden.

Yukino's illusion of clarity made me understand that I'm not the only one to feel duality fading.

Viewfinder's honesty made me appreciate what humanity means.

Do you know how glad I am to have the internet?

creativitea

2005-04-24T08:37:00.000-07:00

I'd love to get these women artists together for have tea, with some questionable finger foods, and then make some collaborative art. Now that would be freaky fun!
The Chimerical Constructions of Aria Nadii
Rebecca Guberman-Bloom
October Effigies
Furiae
Brukoworld
Kristen Ferrell
Corine Vermeulen
Elissa Paquette
Jen Wang
Betsy Davis
Jessica Williams
Beth Bajema
Zoetica
Elisa Lazo de Valdez

the debate continues

2005-04-22T15:10:00.000-07:00

Currently, I am listening to the program Democracy Now on a community radio station, KSER, which is commercial FREE. Chris Mooney of Mother Jones magazine is, as I write, being interviewed about his recent article.

Some Like it Hot
Forty public policy groups have this in common: They seek to undermine the scientific consensus that humans are causing the earth to overheat. And they all get money from ExxonMobil.

As the World Burns -- A Mother Jones special project on global warming

happy skyday

2005-04-22T09:13:00.000-07:00

The other night I dreamt of a green eyed dragon. She transformed into a woman and informed me that she had hid away my essence, but when she returned for it had found it missing. My reply?

"Oh no. Just when I was starting to understand who I am."

*snicker*

the witness

2005-04-19T13:55:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it is enough just to be my own witness. Other times I feel the need to call upon others to witness my journey.

I consider it a gesture of deep respect to be a witness for others. It is a part of what I call acceptance. Seeing someone in all their aspects and not turning away in fear, even if I am clouded by expectation.

This sacred relating has, in turn, helped me with self-acceptance.

Sometimes it is the smallest act of kindness, such as putting judgment aside, that has more impact than expected.

*namaste & gentle blessings*

useful or useless?

2005-04-12T16:01:00.000-07:00

Quiddity's post on Every Woman is a Goddess instigated much thought and chaos within me. Her words made me realize how much value I still place on my role as "useful one" and how quick I am to equate usefulness to others with self-worth.

It started with my childhood when my parents were determined to have productive children. It continues now, when at a crossroads in my work. Do I go down the usual path, the comfortable road where I have plenty of projects that could make me feel useful and clients that "need" me? Or do I go down the twisted, thorny path where something within me that I understate might get a chance to blossom?

I know either choice is fine and all I need is to be gentle with myself, but still I can't help but feel indecisive. I am glad that Quiddity helped me see part of the underlying reason for my indecision.

letting go

2005-04-07T09:17:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the only thing you can do in the middle of a mess is to walk away. I gave my 30 days notice last night with a client. The past 6 months have been a nightmare of miscommunication and misinterpretation. If it hadn't stated in my contract with them that I needed to give 30 days, I think I would have left them high and dry. That is unlike me. But, even I can only tolerate so much.

I reached my saturation point last night and now I am feeling a bit sad. The type of sadness that comes after doing something you knew you had to do for yourself. I'm grieving over unfulfilled expectations. Plus, this experience has left me jaded.

I'm thinking that now would be a good time to molt. I haven't been taking on any new clients because of how involved I've been with the client above, only old clients with small projects. Perhaps, I need to stop doing web/graphic design for awhile.

The problem is that I don't know what I will do instead.

If you see me on the corner with my sign...

...ah the journey continues.

how I respond to criticism

2005-04-04T12:28:00.000-07:00

The rest of the story is here...

love song for mother

2005-03-31T07:10:00.000-08:00

Study Highlights Global Decline
Perhaps this will change the mind of the US in regards to Kyoto? At least now that Terri Schiavo has died, it might gain some attention. Wouldn't it be cool to see a media frenzy generated about something that concerns all life?

an old haiku of mine:

lodgepole pine breathes in
thick smog magically transformed
ungrateful humans

Yes, I am upset. I feel helpless. I contribute to sustainable living, as my father instilled a great respect for the land within me. But it isn't enough. By simply participating in the "civilized" lifestyle of today, my existence is one of those painful slivers gouging mother earth's backside.

I weep for her. I want to take away her pain. She is the only mother I have known who has been nurturing and willing to share her magic with me.

So...what must I do? I will do what I know. I will sing her a love song. I will ask for her forgiveness and accept my awful part in her pain. I will continue to dance in her dreams and hold her in my creative power. And, if by some odd circumstance I end up brain-dead...pull the plug!

play

2005-03-30T07:39:00.000-08:00

Some days are simply too good to be wasted on work...bleh. Today, I'm going to fingerpaint, watch a chick flick, have some chocolate, and do all my own stunts.

Anyone wanna join me?

unbeautiful

2005-03-25T17:50:00.000-08:00

I have worked hard to come to this place. The place where I can choose to reach into my darkness and embrace it, instead of hide it away. Sometimes I do not like to stay there long because what I find frightens me terribly...my dark beauty. Yesterday, I stayed long and took pictures.

I do not usually like to talk about my journey, what brought me here. Many of my closest friends do not know the details of my life, but they know me...the being...that I do not hide. I love sharing myself, just not the trappings. Often I find it is hard for others (or myself for that matter) to remain present and not get wrapped up in the drama (judgment).

Perhaps, I am feeling brave today. I feel it might be a good time to share some of my trappings. I feel supported and know I will be heard. Even if it is just by me.

Some of the times I have felt unbeautiful:
- when I was blamed for pushing my toddler sister with a weak heart down the stairs at the age of 3? because I was supposedly jealous. (my parents never let me forget that and I believed the lie.)
- when two older boys tied up my sister and I, at the age of 10, flew into a rage, fighting them tooth and nail (they felt bad to me), then lost time...only to find I had secured my sister in a hiding spot. (i thought i would die if anything happened to her.)
- when I had cancer at 14, gained a good deal of bloated weight and was emotionally abused by my principal at school on a regular basis. (i was smarter than his pet and fat...easy target.)
- when I lost my virginity when I was almost 21 and my boyfriend insisted I couldn't have been chaste because I was too sensual in bed. (he laughed in my face.)
- when I moved to another city far from my home to be near my first love and he was too busy to make time for me. (later he confessed he had been scared.)
- when I was babysitting for a friend and I was almost raped by a drunk man in the kitchen while his young nephew watched in fright and I reached for the butcher knife, ready to kill him. (luckily i punched him instead and he passed out. my only words to the boy were "would you like some cheerios?" neither of us slept that night.)
- when I gave up the chance to be with someone I loved to take care of my mother and in despair slipped into an abusive relationship

Generally, I've felt unbeautiful when I have believed someone else's truth over my own. It is a good lesson. For I have also found I feel beautiful when I accept my own truth, knowing it will change and I will accept it anew.

Right now, I AM BEAUTIFUL.

oh so naked

2005-03-22T08:50:00.000-08:00

That's the only word I can think of to describe me at this moment.

Naked. To me it means: vulnerable, empty, full, scared, joyful, alive, alone, serious, carefree. It is my word to encompass my paradox.

I spew words that indicate openess, strength and wisdom...and then I hide behind them.

I color canvas then hide behind my art.

I reveal my beauty and then hide behind my mask.

I work for myself and hide behind my suit.

Now, the trick is to embrace the paradox fully and keep working on not holding myself back. I'm afraid of being rejected because of my intensity, divinity. It happens often.

Me, the hardass: But, so what? It's not like I haven't rejected myself so many times. Why would it matter more when the rejection comes from others?
Me, the gentle lover: It doesn't. It's only my projection. The rejection comes from within. The without is my way of bringing it to my attention.

Well, I am paying attention now.

on the cover of a magazine

2005-03-19T20:18:00.000-08:00

I was privileged to be photoshopped in the mock up below by Jithe. Thank you, Jithe! I am once more humbled, thrilled, to be surrounded by amazing and creative beings.

To all the goddesses and gods who make my life brighter and sweeter, remember how much you inspire me, how greatly you touch my life.

who am i? latest news...

2005-03-18T09:16:00.000-08:00

I continue to deepen as I face my fear of self-portraiture.

who am I? part deux

2005-03-16T13:41:00.000-08:00

Other answers: Jithe sees a feline quality in me, as seen in this fabulous artwork, while My Life as Haint sees me as a mandala kaleidoscope. Flattery will get you everywhere!

who am i?

2005-03-10T12:15:00.000-08:00

I've been taking many pictures of myself recently, a kind of project/test and discovery of self-image. It is easy for me to see the beauty and magic in everything, but myself. I can feel it, I just don't see it. Ever since I was young I found myself expecting a different reflection in the mirror than what presented itself. Go figure I never liked my picture taken either. I thought it was primarily due to self-loathing, a pretty common issue, but I'm starting to think it is something else entirely.

Here's what I've learned:
- I am not any of the individuals/archetypes shown in my pictures which supports my "I am everything and nothing" theory.
- No matter the state of my appearance, polished or disheveled, I still look raw, uncomposed. This is actually a good description of my general attitude as of late.
- Each time I try and label a picture as pretty, ugly, scared, inspired, or any other choice descriptive, I find that the next picture taken refutes the label completely. I evolve from moment to moment. Being in flux is a constant learning curve.

I'm think it's time to stop asking "who am I?"

sensuality

2005-03-07T15:55:00.000-08:00

Here is a sensuality quiz for Every Woman is a Goddess that I put together and my answers.

Please state your name as you would like it to appear (real or pseudonym) and an email/web address if desired.
Name: creatrix (aka jennifer)
Email/Web Address: creatrix(at)iamgoddess.com

1.How would you define sensuality? The creative and sexual power of a woman.

2.What makes you feel sensual? Self-confidence and bare skin.

3.If you feel inclined, share a moment in your life when you felt most sensual: The first time I felt someone's bare skin against mine. It was new, electric and I, for the first time, realized the raw power and beauty that came from being vulnerable.

4.What are some things (eg. colors, smells, items, ideas) around you in your daily life that you find sensual? Red, blue, purple, nag champa, patchouli, sandalwood, damp earth, grass, shimmer/sparkle lotion, lipstick, creating art, photography, poetry, laughter...life!

5.What words of wisdom would you give other women to help them discover or accept their sensuality? Look into my eyes and see your reflection. See your beauty and embrace it!

taking my own picture

2005-03-02T16:23:00.000-08:00

For awhile now, I've been trying to take my own picture. Why? Because everyone always wonders why I'm never in the picture. I'm always the one behind the camera...and for good reason. I am a difficult subject. Today, I was inspired by WeirdPixie's beautiful self portrait and a self portrait group I was invited to on Flickr. I ended up taking one I liked, but I still can't decide whether I like the original or the equalized version better.

Tea Portrait I or Tea Pot-trait II?

in memory of jef raskin

2005-03-01T07:40:00.000-08:00

Creator of the Macintosh computer dies at 61 and yahoo turns 10.

specialization vs. generalization

2005-02-28T16:11:00.000-08:00

It seems it just might be a better idea to combine ideas and collaborate with others. Go figure. My find of the day: Manuscripts 'treated as fossils'

god/dess bless seattle

2005-02-28T15:10:00.000-08:00

...for the lovely assortment of people, sights and weather!

Went on a lake cruise on Saturday for my daily fill of Seattle trivia. Yes, I took a picture of Bill Gates mansion. I couldn't resist. Then for Sunday, it was the Big Four ice caves. If you want to see the pics, go to my set on flickr.

a good day for fire

2005-02-25T07:10:00.000-08:00

Outside the fog is thick. It envelops me, secures me in this moment, and my soul lightens.
I am free!

Listening to: Internet Oasis on Live 365
Feeling like: Scarlet Whispers in the Cabaret
Mourning: my old 35 mm but Salivating over the: Canon EOS 20D
Sending out good thoughts to: bloggers in Iran

gals, wanna blog with me?

2005-02-24T11:02:00.000-08:00

I have a new blog -- Every Woman Is A Goddess -- with hopes that I can snare other women into building an online community with me. It's a place to inspire and be inspired, whether you're looking for sexy socks to go with that new funkyjunkie necklace, wish to share poetry, or need help working out that marketing plan. In short, it is what we make it. If you're interested, let me know and I'll send ya an invite.

down under with rose

2005-02-23T15:34:00.000-08:00

Warning: mature content.
I found an informative and fun article written by Rose Cooper for those of us who would like to please and be pleased just a little better. There's nothing wrong with being good at something.

A Consumer's Guide to Oral Sex

The site is a great collection of vagina facts. Yes, I said vagina. It's wonderful being a woman.

traditional american family values

2005-02-23T15:29:00.000-08:00

Got this off the radio today: You always hear politicians saying stuff like, "maintaining traditional American family values."
Definition of traditional American family values: people who love God, the military and George W. Bush and who hate gays, porn, abortion and hip-hop.

I wonder if these politicians actually go outside and talk to people.

freedom comes in a kilt

2005-02-17T15:05:00.000-08:00

The 2004 Utilikilts Mock-U-Mercial Contest Winners Are...

post V-day truisms

2005-02-17T10:54:00.000-08:00

www.zefrank.com/valentine/

Heee...heee...

a trip down memory lane

2005-02-17T07:27:00.000-08:00

Last night I dreamt of resolution of an incident 9 years old. It was wonderful. I had closure. The good kind, where you go through all the tough spots and come out clean.

Of course, I mucked up my warm fuzzies when I rationalized that it was only a dream and such a resolution couldn't happen for real. Damn. How I wanted to hold onto that. Couldn't I have let myself hold on for just a little longer?

No. The past is gone, swept away under the rocks on the white sands. I do not regret my actions back then. I made a choice, the only choice, and I could not make the others understand the reason for my choice. To them I was guilty of abandonment. A betrayal of their love and trust.

I still feel that guilty lump in my throat as I remember them.

I loved them deeply and during our time together we had clung together like seaweed battered by the waves, huddled around our secret bond. When I left them in their vulnerability it must have pained them, but I could not continue to play victim. Nor could I continue to participate in their rescue. I felt I was losing pieces of my Self and was worried that I would never find all the pieces again.

I guess there is still a piece of me back there with them. I'm still hoping they will see me for who I am, not who they wanted me to be. This is the hardest lesson for me -- accepting that love doesn't always mean intimacy. There are times when I want to shake someone and yell "See Me!"

Today is one of those days. I just might need to order some socks.

the blame game

2005-02-15T15:17:00.000-08:00

So...the tug-a-war went something like this...

Me: I developed the project according to your earlier requirements.
Nameless One: The board has decided that they need this instead. They will not back down.
Me: This was not a part of the original requirements. The project is in itself complete, ready to go. It needs only fine editing.
Nameless One: I do not understand why it cannot be changed to this way instead.
Me: I did not design it that way. I designed it according to the initial requirements.
Nameless One: This is what is needed now. I don't see the problem.

This is what I replied in my head...The god-freakin-damn problem is that I am done with what we initially agreed upon. I have fulfiled my part of the agreement. After all the politicking I did to make sure I was going in the right direction, you tell me I have gone down the wrong road and need to start over. To top it off, I am beginning to imagine your head on fire and believe that aliens have confiscated your brain because you continue to deny that you were the one to lead me down this wicked, decayed path. Why can't you just say, "Oops, my bad," and give me some indication that I am not working for a degenerate.

Of course, this is what came out instead..."It will cost extra."

I am such a whore.

ATCs: creative community

2005-02-14T10:17:00.000-08:00

I came across the site, Art in your Pocket: ATCs, and well...just plain got excited. Yes, I know I get excited at the drop of a hat, but this sounded like a great thing to do. If anyone is interested in creating digital artist trading cards, let me know. We can create a community and inspire each other.

les fleurs de l'amour...are flowers sexy?

2005-02-14T09:43:00.000-08:00

Here are some pics of a trumpet tree that flowered in my yard in San Diego. (click on them for larger view)

I felt like a proper voyeur when I took them...

..peeking into the private and sensual world of nature.

i am not presentable

2005-02-11T14:01:00.000-08:00

Ever get the desire to dive under the covers and assume the fetal position with your hands over your ears as you sing "la...la...i can't hear you?" Are you facing serious streaming downloads and you just don't have the cpu to back it up? Well, I am teetering on the precipice. I think the only thing that's keeping me sane are those fabulous armwarmers. (much love to sock dreams!)

I've put up the do not disturb sign in my brain, but those pesky thoughts ignore it and walk right in to pick away at my tender neurons. The nerve! I mean I could be naked. I'm just not presentable right now. I need to get my act together...bring back that directivity I'm famous for. Okay, now where did I leave that? Don't think I put it in the junk drawer...hmmm.

REWARD for missing directivity. Yes, that's right I'll give you a big ole cyber hug and kiss if you find it for me.

political art?

2005-02-11T10:02:00.000-08:00

This work by Sudanese artist Hassan Musa sums up my thoughts on the whole Osama Bin Laden fiasco. (posted on BBC's site) -- The Great American Nude

A photo by Paul Vreeker of Reuters (posted on BBC's site).

Not sure what to make of this site yet, but a sentence from the introduction caught my attention. "Subvertising is the Art of Cultural resistance." -- Subvertise.org

It's been around for awhile, but still makes me laugh and shake my booty -- a hilarious flash presentation by Liquid Generation: Saddam's an Outkast

A Malaysian journalism site has a interesting collection of Cartoon Journalism from around the world.

This one's a bit much, but I couldn't resist...political pumpkins?

I guess politics are on my mind today...hmm...it seems I'm all for using humour to downsize the horrors of greed in politics.

feeling low? get some sox!

2005-02-10T13:47:00.000-08:00

Okay, I know it sounds strange but it really works! Today, I was having a super crappy day, but when I looked in my mailbox and found socks...I was happy once more. Who said that socks aren't sexy? Here's me and my new M40s from Sock Dreams.

I was a bit worried because I have curvy thighs, not the straight ones that I saw modeled on the site. But, these M40's actually look good on me. They are soft, cozy and sleek.

Even Neferu (the kitty featured here) adores them. I feel like a goddess. Thank you Sock Dreams! xoxox

stranger than science fiction?

2005-02-10T09:11:00.000-08:00

hmmm...what bar code do you think you will be?

For the fashion minded, I'm thinking it would look really cool with fake zebra boots. Yeah, right.

seattle...loving it!

2005-02-09T10:15:00.000-08:00

It's true. I am loving Seattle metro. I've only lived here 6 months and I'm already enjoying the area. In my 6.5 years in San Diego, the only thing I ended up loving was the friends I made and still miss. (Love you to bits...you gorgeous goddesses!)

So why didn't I LOVE San Diego, the vacation destination of palm trees and beaches?

Well for one thing, you get to share those beaches with Tijuana sewage spills and many people. Aside: Here's a shout out to all those volunteers who clean the beach and make it possible to take those sunset walks. Without them...well, those beaches would be dirty! THANK YOU.

San Diego does have its good points. Unfortunately, they are lost on me. I didn't like the heat. I prefer temperatures below 85 degrees farenheit and only the lucky/wealthy get to live near the beach. I didn't like the palm trees. They just didn't compare to pines and cedars. I didn't like the ever sunny days without variation. I was about the only one who figured the rain dance was something to do every day. I didn't like the chaparral except when it bloomed and for that it needed, you guessed it...RAIN!

To top it all off, my one favorite place was the Cuyamacas with the magnificent old oaks providing shelter from the sun and all those beautiful trees burned down to the ground. The firestorm was started by a careless hunter. But I digress. The subject here isn't human apathy, it's my comparison of Seattle and San Diego. Oops.

I just wasn't built for San Diego. Nope. I was built for rain, forests and varied weather patterns. Thus, Seattle is my kind of city. It rains. It has big trees, mountains, rivers, amazing mossy forests and many other natural beauties surrounding it. Ahh...I feel like I can breathe. Yep. I'm happy here.

What I've discovered about the main city of Seattle itself is exciting. There are thriving communities of artists and musicians, showcased by many galleries and music clubs. The city's architecture is a mixture of old and new, with interesting wonders tucked away. Though the best way to see the sites is on foot, there is a great metro system for those who already have their favorite places mapped out. There is variety of cultural tastes in restaurants and many offer vegetarian options.

Great music, food, art, sites...what more can I say. I even love the plethora of coffee houses. It's all a part of Seattle's charm.

i'm a web junkie

2005-02-08T15:28:00.000-08:00

After reading an article on the BBC news site, Why I'm giving up broadband, I had to sit down and take a hard look at myself. I wondered, was I a web junkie?

Yep. I'm pretty sure I am. You see I made a mental list of the things I do online versus offline. The results, well, about one of the only things I haven't done online is cyber sex...and the way I'm going, that might be just around the corner. If there was such a thing as cyber eating, sleeping and bathroom breaks, (someone let me know if there is!) I can safely say I'd try it. I'll probably be one of the first lab rats for a matrix-jack in the back of my head.

Eeeks! I'm worried. As my work revolves around the internet, I suppose it was only natural for me to become addicted, but like dude (ah...california speak is always good when I'm frustrated) I need some hobbies that aren't related to the computer. I feel like I've been a tourist in my life offline, while online I'm involved. An odd position.

Maybe I need to give myself a break. I mean moving to a new place tends to isolate even the most outgoing, right? I guess I better step up my intentions to make some friends offline before web geekdom has claimed my soul.

But, before I do that, I'll need to finish my cyber laundry.

how to avoid work

2005-02-03T10:02:00.000-08:00

Here's some tips that work for me:
1. Whatever you do, don't turn on your computer, even if you're only going to check your email.
2. If you didn't pay attention to #1 and already are on the computer, Karyn from the save karen website has a fun list of avoid working links. Some of them I knew, some of them were new. All were pretty good!
3. Finally, make a list of how to avoid work.

cyber pals

2005-01-26T07:41:00.000-08:00

When I first started using the internet on a regular basis I discovered an online community for readers and writers alike known as the ReadersVine. I was hooked! I chatted, participated in workshops and discussed topics with many people, some of who I still consider friends. The community dissolved not to long after I joined, but it gave me my first taste of cyber friendships.

It made me afraid. I mean, you meet new people (or their alter egos), which I enjoy, but it's more chaotic. Some people lack basic respect, others never want you to know anything real about them. Those who want to act out fantasy are just as hard to deal with as those who want to be super "real" and end up demanding loyalty. In other words, it can be just plain hard to wade through the online masses and find an enjoyable cyber pal.

Wow. Sounds just like finding a friend at a coffee house doesn't it? So what's the difference between "cyber" and "physical" friends? There are no rules or direct paths to long-lasting, rewarding friendship in either case. In the end, stigmata aside, if doesn't really matter where you found a friend. It's good enough simply to have one.

The world is becoming a global community, shouldn't we do our part to make it a friendly one?

Oh, excuse me...someone is sending me an instant message. LOL

what's in the water?

2005-01-21T09:31:00.000-08:00

When I was on birth control I didn't even think about what happened to the excess chemical hormones my body flushed (down the toilet). Turns out, those minute molecules might have ended up in the drinking water. I was too busy avoiding pregnancy to be accoutable for my own subtle additions to the water table. I didn't wonder what other organic wastewater contaminants were in that glass of refreshing brita filtered liquid. Thus, I didn't need a prescription or even an ailment to sample some of the finest pharmecueticals like Bob's viagra or Sally's prilosec.

I simply followed a healthy lifestyle which included 8-10 glasses of water daily.

Of course, the tiny amount of contaminants I've been ingesting over the years are too insignificant to make a difference now. I might have a different opinion in 10 years, when that viagra accumulates and a glass of water has become well known aphrodisiac. That could be useful!

interesting visitors

2005-01-19T16:30:00.000-08:00

Today, a knock at the door revealed two young boys. My first Mormon Missionaries. I reined in my predatory instincts, as they seemed so young and innocent. I couldn't very well tell them to go to...as I am not inclined to their beliefs...and burn their ears.

Instead, kindness overtook me. I thought of how dearly these young ones want to believe and how much pride they showed. They seemed gentle, though I know they are taught to be demure, but I also saw their gratefulness when I did not dismiss them. I could not turn down their eagerness, for it reminded me of myself. Eager to help and share. Could I not take the time to hear their words, at least give them that gift?

Thus, I listened. I thought it might be the perfect opportunity to understand more of what urges them on to the next house and propels them down their religious path. I took their book and little memos tucked in side for my benefit. I figured that the next time they come around...oh yes they will be back...they might just learn something from me.

You see, for all my kindness...I can be wicked too.

Just might be interesting...their next visit. Poor boys. They won't be saving me anytime.

need a pick me up?

2005-01-18T06:50:00.000-08:00

If you happen to be feeling not so wonderful, I have something to help you feel right again...Compliments! Click on the links to hear them. (mp3 files)
You look fabulous!
You are such a genius!
You are beautiful!

If you need a bit of cheer, check out this animation.

healing wounds

2005-01-17T09:32:00.000-08:00

I'm in an odd mood, not quite easy to categorize. It is something akin to a combination of calm and chaos, both obvious, but neither dominant. It makes me think that the two aren't really opposites. I rather like it. Such "paradox" helps heal wounds like...

Self-acceptance. I used to think that standing strong in my adopted convictions was the only way to know purpose and be accepted by others. Now, I'm a recovering martyr, working on not taking myself too seriously. I understand that the acceptance I give so freely to others has to be given to myself as well.

Shedding society's formula. I have always looked for the middle road, that fragile place that exists between extremes. I don't expect to be balanced at all times, but I appreciate the experience of balance. I am not worried about knowing "the" truth. I figure that if I can glimpse my own truth in each moment and accept that it will change, I will be happier to participate in this life I'm creating.

Ah, yes. Those wounds are healing.

purr-fect introductions

2005-01-14T15:40:00.000-08:00

Meow! I am named Shepsi, which means "Venerable One" in Ancient Egyptian, and my human servant has asked me to purr a few words about her. Apart from the fact that she is furless, she is quite likeable and treats me with the reverence I deserve. She has just started a web/communications company, Exit Blue, with her sister, after retiring her old web design company of four years.

Here are some tidbits about her that puzzle me to no end:
1. She has a degree in zoology and loves the outdoors, but works as a web/graphic designer in front of a hypnotizing machine.
2. She likes to play with words, knowing full well that she doesn't have mastery. Such audacity!
3. She doesn't have a favorite anything, not even catnip, but is inspired by the most trivial things.
4. She plays an unusual and LOUD instrument, but it's broken right now. Thank Sekhmet!
5. She bit the first guy who tried to french kiss her. I guess he didn't taste very good because she never talked to him again.
6. She rarely eats meat. Shocking! I'm just glad she doesn't expect me to give it up.
7. She doesn't follow any religion, nor is she an aetheist. She simply follows her own whims.

She calls herself a Creatrix.

wanna showcase your creativity?

2005-01-14T15:34:00.000-08:00

The Creatrix Collective is an online showcase for creatives. The space for now is free. Creativity in any shape, whether it be poetry, prose, painting, photography, digital/multimedia, or anything else is welcomed. Contact me for details.

what is a creatrix?

2005-01-14T14:25:00.000-08:00

Creatrix -- creatress, she who creates
At least, that's what I strive for. But, I've been known to revert to self-pity once in awhile. In such cases, I ask...

Am I creating the waste I live or wasting the life I create?

Sobers me pretty quickly. After all, I am accountable for my own actions.