Photoshop Phobic

Okay, so. Photoshop in all its layers and intricacies kinda scare me a little...or let's say mildly intimidate me. I'm sure I could figure it out if I had more time at my disposal. In fact, I like challenges and will set my mind to conquering Photoshop when I get some downtime. For now, I'm in love. There are so many options at your fingers with the internet. It's been almost a year now that I've been all about Picnik.com. So many amazing options. It's no Photoshop but for now it gets the job done and comes out with a hella lot pretty. Lookit. Check it out. Play. I'll be using this to help with my graphics for the midterm project....the one approaching ever so quickly.

Solitary Confinement

Okay, tagging on to that last post (you know...crazy lady who hears voices aka writer) I was just thinking of all the places where I do my best plotting/writing. There's been many a time that I've had to walk away from the computer or just delete large chucks of newly written text.

1. Beneath soothing spray of hot water at 2am...cool tiles slick with persperation and the air cloying with steam.
2. Earbuds tucked firmly in place, quieting the steady buzz of conversation and goings on as the city passes away before my unseeing eyes and my pen scratches away against paper. The play is the thing...or rather the commute to work is the thing. What better time to lose yourself and let your imagination runaway with you.
3. The same spiral notebook sits just in reach, ready and waiting for fingers reaching beyond midnight. Words and images blurred with sleep, mind awakening and voices chattering. Pieces coming together, voiding and the forgetfulness of waking.
4. Fragrant bubbles sliding and music filling the air, words pouring forth and filling line after line as half-fist sized waterprints soaks in....wrinkling pristine white (okay so this one I don't do as much...writing mid-bath...only when I can't get something out of my head and prefer my notebook to whatever book I happen to be reading that day)
5. Lollygagging, daydreamer...I'll cop to that one. Anywhere and everywhere the voices take their fancy. Everything inspires. Plot stutters me mid-sentence. That is the life. I wouldn't give it up for anything else. No, no, no. Not even a better sense of direction (Word to the wise, never ask me for directions...I couldn't tell you who what and where...head left to long in the clouds or buried between the leaf of a typed paged). Again, I wouldn't change it for the world...that's why God created GPS.

Okay so on the flipside, this got me thinking of places where I don't think would be as conductive to my process...despite my lollygagging tendencies:

1. A Cabin in the Woods: I'm curious and I love nature. This would actually be an awesome place to go but I'm a child of the eighties with a taste for bad (horror) movies (among many, many every other type). I think lonely cabin in the woods and envision a hockey-masked wearing manchild with a machete and cannibals with poor dental hygiene.


See what I mean? Crackling fire, blanket, and log cabin yes....this as my welcome committee...thank you and no. I'd get nothing done. LOL.

2. A Deserted Island: ....hmm. Again. Thanks but no thanks. Annoying, infuriating and distracting as they might be...I come from a large family and am accustom to their colorful tales and "pain in the arse" ways. Imagine me...on sandy beaches (yay) alone (boo)...not even a Wilson (Think Tom Hanks in Castaway ) as my only companion. No, I'd go made with only myself for company and probably drown or be nibbled away by sharks attempting to swim back to civilization. Silence and peace can be nice but how boring with out the noise and fury of every day life and the people who crowd us to make things interesting.


WILSON!!!!!!!

Yes...I need help. I promise to see someone about that on the next Friday after never ;)

Say What?

"I see dead people," Little Haley Joel proclaimed breath coming in frosty gusts, fear and uncertainty all about him. Well, Little Haley Joel...I hear voices. Lots of them. They call to me at all hours and the day and invade when I have other important matters to be done like work. Sometimes infusing snark or matters of sadness, the scene building up around those voices. No, I don't need to be medicated people. I'm talking dialogue. It's one of my favorite parts of actually writing. I love engineering twisting and twirling plots of story or clever turns of phrase and prose but there's nothing quite like just sitting down and penning straight dialogue...figuring out the back and forth. When a scene gets too hard or I've written myself into more of a corner than I originally meant to...sometimes the dialogue is all I have until that shining piece of genius comes to me telling me how to get out of the hole I've dug so deeply for my characters.

Like I said before, those voices can intrude at the most inopportune of moments. They steal away your attention and leave you defenseless. High drama or low comedy. Caught in the throes of their interchange, I've worried more than once that I'd blurt those words in a sullen quiet, making my companions regard me as strange. Though, my friends and family have long since accepted that I'm cut out different than the rest. From what they're used to at least because were I to do the same in the company of my writer friends they would understand almost immediately. The same goes if I suddenly erupt into action reaching for a pen and notebook that I usually keep with me or at the side of my bed. They understand...something has come to me and clicked where it didn't make sense before. The voices have gone on and unmedicated and make an awful kind of wonderful sense. Logic. Poetry. Reason. Horror. Okay, I'll admit that I'm rambling now and for no reason at all other than one of the voices took control of my fingers (flying across the keys) for a moment there and insisted on having her say. I'm back now, have her harness and locked tight...working on the chapter that's been awaiting my attention for these few days past. To be quite honest, I'd rather here voices than see dead people. All the time ;)

Confessions of a Jelly Bean Addict

I rarely actually indulge in turkey unless its that special time of the year where everybody's doing it. I'm not much of a chocolate-whore....well at least I'm not if we're talking anything but chocolate covered strawberries. I've recently discovered a weakness for the fruity confection. Don't get me wrong. I'm a girly girl who loves the dark stuff but only when I think about it and there is a super secret stash in my desk that I nip into only when I'm specially annoyed. It's the jellybeans though...they're my addiction. I don't have them year round...only during that time of year meant for the Easter Bunny. President's and Valentine's day have barely made their yearly pass and already the stores are showing off their sugary, pastel...Easter inspired wares. The jellies are my Achilles heel. From mid-Feb until mid-April, every year is the same. Every store I visit I end up buying one or two separate bags of the tiny candies. I don't eat them all on my own. I share with co-workers and take them home to my niece (....big sis isn't too happy about the latter...oops). I don't even think about the candies really during the rest of the year but every winter and late spring...I can't stop buying them. Not too in love with the sour ones and I don't like the little black licorice ones...though I've got a thing for Good & Plentys (Yeah yeah. I know...I hardly know anyone who likes the little candies but every Halloween there was always one house that insisted on giving them out) They tasted like medicine and were therefore disgusting but then they grew on me. Call me contrary...my nearest and dearest do it all the time. :).

Not Quite Friday

Woke up tired and smiling just that little bit, my head swimming with the surety that Friday had arrived and all good things with it. Alas, it is but Thursday and there's another day to slough through. Why so down...I'm stll without my laptop and feeling it. The notebooks are nice but I can't get back into my flow of working on the projects I've got going already this way. Scenes and dialogue come out as note and pieces to be put together at a later date.

Happy thoughts and good distractions...I've found myelf watching the Olympics again this year. It always amazes me, the things that some people can pull off and just the heights they can reach...how fast they can go. I honestly admire them. Though, I'm not even the least bit tempted to strap on a pair of skis or snowboard and try my hand at their death-defying feats. I am awed by their daring but content to live vicariously and been thrilled when they are and ache for their attempts that end in heartbreak. It's weird. They spend years and years working up to one moment (in some cases two...they get two runs sometimes and come out using the best school). Sometimes its a case of national pride and how can you not cheer for the person meant to represent for your country (esp when they're totally kicking ass...go Shaun/Shani/Lindsey/Apollo and the beat...list goes on ;) ) Other times its a case of wow...look what that person has done...you've gotta admire it...no matter where they're from. Spent last night watching with friend and I swear we cheered hard and louder than a few weeks ago during the Superbowl (Go Saints! Who dat ;) haha)

No focus today....feeling all over the place with this thing and that is why it should be Friday. Thank god I'm off today.

Gotta Write...Gotta Dance...Gotta Write.....Gottttta Daaaaance (er read)

Working on borrowed time and my sister's laptop. Want to get some writing done. Didn't get much done over the past few days. Colorful text messages to friends don't count. So what oh what did I do with all this precious free time on my hands? I read...read...read... cleaned...worked out...read...bickered with my sister...played super mario bros with the niece...read...brooded...watched the clock...cleaned some more. And what oh what did I find while I was cleaning? At least 10 empty journals and the pens I'd been buying but left unused in my preference for typing the story straight away. I remember how it was before...before my laptop found its permanent seat upon my thighs. Before that I could always be found in some corner of whatever room, head bent and fingers curled around my pen as I scribbled away...literally penning whatever tale had struck my fancy in that instance.

Sure I'll go back to mostly using my laptop whenever the new one gets here or the old one is fixed. In the meantime...I think I'll indulge in a little reminescience.

Soundtrack

Snowed in again and still working on a borrowed laptop. Can't complain. I'm safe and warm. The words are flowing and Sade's new album is playing in the background. I've heard a few writers say that they've created playlists that carried them through...or rather aided them during projects and the writing process. I can agree with this. I'll find myself stuck on a certain song. It sets the mood for a scene building in my head...soft and sweet or hard and violent. Beautiful and sweeping or with just the right amount of edge to fit the scene or even a certain character. Somedays I find myself listening to the same song on repeat for hours on end while I'm making notes or just writing non-stop. Wuchich song am I stuck on at the moment? Sade's "The Moon & The Sky." Take a listen.

Just Say No!!!

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Sno-Dayz

Okay...yes. Another one. People have been posting their pictures like mad of "Snowmaggedon 2010" or "Snopocalypse Now." 25-30 inches of the white, powdery stuff. Winter wonderland, made slushy or icy pain in the hindquarters. Oh and that's a literal pain...in the back and everywhere else from having to push a few hundreds of thousands of pounds of Japanese steel and glass. This was after digging the car out Saturday afternoon and having nowhere to actually go...unless we were going by means of sled or skis.

It could've been worse I suppose. There's a firehouse right down the block and plows were coming through on the regular even as the thick, white flakes came pouring down. Still somehow one of the fire trucks got stuck for a good two hours before they managed to make it around the corner. Thankfully they were on their way back from whatever emergency had pulled them out into the cold.

*Pictured here was going to be one of the multitude of the pictures that I for some reason couldn't stop snapping the other day and today...as if I've never in my life seen the stuff before. Which of course I have. Native Baltimorean that I am, I'm accostumed to the nip and chill...the occassional flurry or Winter storm. Thundersnow, however, was something all together new.*

**Okay I didn't capture an image of this Thundersnow or even hear the loud booming crack myself. I only heard about it the next morning on facebook and then again when I talked to oen of my sisters.**

***I'll post the pics when I can. For now blogger doesn't seem interested in uploading anymore***

ETA:

Once more with feeling...






*bows*
thank you and good night ;)

You're Just A Butterfly, David..

I'll have to watch the movie again..can't remember if that's actually how it goes when David (Cary Grant) gets dumped by his fiancee after his wild romp in the countryside with heiress, Susan (Katherine Hepburn). This is definitely one of my favorite movies ever. I was looking at someone else's blog and they were talking about how implausible some of the characterizations and plotlines were...how these two people could never exist. Seriously? What would we write...what variety of movies would there be to see if the envelope wasn't pushed. Suppose everything was rational and made absolute sense. How fun would that be? Though, I'm not entirely sure about that first assessment anyway. I've know plenty of people in the real world who could've given Susan a run for her money. Wild and zany antics to the extreme...and that's all I'll say about that :P

Done?

I want to link to my blog or rather Jenny's http://creativeepublishing.blogspot.com .

I want to link to Jenny's blog

Outside the Box

"It takes a banana to notice a monkey" or so writes Harold on his amazing and crazy (see he totally is someone I could get along with) blog. Harold of Cardboard. His blog houses an amazing mix of images that verge on the strange and impossible and just crazed. Who doesn't want to read something like that. His words wandering into poetic ponderance (oops...did new word...I might do that alot, we'll see). Definitely an interesting personality and blog to check out.

Once Upon A Time...or something like it

Neither trite, nor cheesy. It's a classic line. The ultimate intro. The line that pulls you into a timeless place of far ago, readying you for a tale of woe that magically becomes "happily ever after." Stacy Barton has those words and the image of an old typewriter as a part of her homepage. It's the first thing that you see besides her name. Sprawling letters and old timey cars hanging off to the side. There's so much personality in the simplicity of it. The thoughts behind it, meant to draw the eye and hold your attention. The site of course is mostly there just to give information on the author herself and her previous works, but there is a link to her blog, which is where her personal voice truly shines through. A place for networking and putting herself out there. Touching base with writers like herself and just a place to give her work to the world. She posts a few of her poems within the blog or just everyday things that she wants to talk about. The idea of showcasing the website and linking the blog is a good one, because...most author websites are kinda commercial and just gives you the requisite bio...their body of works and odds and ends within that same vein. Linking the blog, takes things a step further by letting you in closer with the writer...reading what they're thinking while their writing. Talking about the struggles of getting the words on paper and the paper into the right pair of hands. "Cultivating the art of the story," Barton writes also on that homepage. Words painting a portrait, telling the whole story or just the barest view to tell the story of a moment. Writing as art. It really is.

Life & Sense in the Abstract

Illustrator and children's book author, Christopher Niemann, has satirical pieces that have appeared in many different venues. Chief among these are his covers for The New Yorker, as well as, "Abstract City" which appears on the New York Times website. He has this really amazing way of telling a story. Sometimes he does it with as few words as possible or none at all, letting the images speak. Truly showing rather than telling. His pieces that appear in the Times' blog are mostly funny cartoons an interesting narrative coming together as he explores the phenomena of sleepless nights and small children that steal into your bed at the dead of night, purloining all the blankets for themselves. Funny and interesting.

His website utilizes cartoons within the navigational tools, adding a touch of the writer's personality. It's different from the usual fare thanks in large part to his higly imaginative graphics. Still there's the requisite sections, i.e. news, books, contact, and buy...but it's the galleries under the portfolio section that grabs your attention and tells you so much about the writer himself. No...really. Niemann did a sort of comic bio or confessional rather that is both fun and...well different. A wonderful mix of words and imagery that say alot about the writer. His ability to think outside the box.

Link to Gallery

Further exploration of his website and the same galleries, turns up other great pieces from his previous work with The New Yorker, American Illustration, Atlantic Monthly, and numerous other publications. Political satire. Social commentary. Out and out monkeying around. All present and accounted for.