With school back in session and my finally having more than five minutes in the morning on the computer, I just thought I'd let you know that I'll be around more from now on. I'll be finishing up the Vignette Challenge posts, and have a few ideas up my sleeve that I hope you'll like. Of course, I could just be psyching all of you out like I've done many times before, but hopefully, that doesn't end up being the case.
Yup, that's about it for the update right now.
I'm going to go back to working on the complete rewrite of my 2007 preNaNo project.
Cheers.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
The best thing about being back...
...is the obligatory trip to the bookstore for those important supplies!!! Course, my campus bookstore isn't as great as Strikethru's, but it's not that bad...
Now, this year, they didn't have everything that I was looking for, like my favorite legal pads, but I didn't do too bad...
So, take a look at the haul, all $386 of it...
Five books for one class. Looks like it's going to be fascinating, but still. It's a lot of reading.
Got the last copy of this one. The new edition comes out next year, with this one being over 10 years old, so you'd expect some used copies, right? Nope. Had to buy it new.
As I work on this post, I'm waiting for this last class to start. The prof just walked in... But the books look fascinating.
Besides the required books, I also scored a few fun things.
Like this new Zebra fountain pen. Never seen them before, never seen a review of them, but it looks pretty... although when I did a writing test (full review to be posted soon), I'm not quite sure how I like it. Maybe I just like the weight of a nicer fountain pen... but $4.99 was cheap!
I've also fallen in love with the look of a broad line on yellow paper... So, there are two pads of yellow paper in my stash, as well as some new broad points.
I scored a few new pens and a clicky highlighter.
And of course, a pad of one of my favorite papers.
And, last, but of course, not least, a new General's Layout Pencil. As you can see in the picture below, the last one I bought is growing shorter by the day. I love this pencil.
And thus concludes the tour de supplies for this semester... or at least this first week. I'm sure I'll be picking more up as the semester goes along...
Now, this year, they didn't have everything that I was looking for, like my favorite legal pads, but I didn't do too bad...
So, take a look at the haul, all $386 of it...
Five books for one class. Looks like it's going to be fascinating, but still. It's a lot of reading.
Got the last copy of this one. The new edition comes out next year, with this one being over 10 years old, so you'd expect some used copies, right? Nope. Had to buy it new.
As I work on this post, I'm waiting for this last class to start. The prof just walked in... But the books look fascinating.
Besides the required books, I also scored a few fun things.
Like this new Zebra fountain pen. Never seen them before, never seen a review of them, but it looks pretty... although when I did a writing test (full review to be posted soon), I'm not quite sure how I like it. Maybe I just like the weight of a nicer fountain pen... but $4.99 was cheap!
I've also fallen in love with the look of a broad line on yellow paper... So, there are two pads of yellow paper in my stash, as well as some new broad points.
I scored a few new pens and a clicky highlighter.
And of course, a pad of one of my favorite papers.
And, last, but of course, not least, a new General's Layout Pencil. As you can see in the picture below, the last one I bought is growing shorter by the day. I love this pencil.
And thus concludes the tour de supplies for this semester... or at least this first week. I'm sure I'll be picking more up as the semester goes along...
Monday, August 22, 2011
Happy Book - August Edition
Because I go back to school in a week, this is all you get. I have no brain. Enough said.
- a second chance
- LAVA HOT SPRINGS
- the Chuckwagon, the scandal, the ambulance, the river rafting...
- two hours of cheesy Taylor Swift sing-a-long with the Bartman
- and the resulting voice loss
- Polynesian dance
- discovering the teacher I've been all along
- passing notes
- coming home late to the blessed relief of oreos on the kitchen counter
- being told I clean up well and a guy staring just confirming it
- three fat kittens on my lap all at once
- the mossy swimming hole
- Chick and Bandit, oh the doggy devotion
- eight-year Ginger driving me on the four wheeler, I thought I was going to die
- goat meat
- sleeping on the screened porch listening to sprinklers, trains, coyotes, and Uncle Steve baling hay
- the laundry rock and the view that goes with it
- hunting the broody chicken
- birthday plotting
- Dad
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
We apologize for The interruption...
...your regularly scheduled program will resume shortly... once I'm done working twelves and have time to.type up the rest of my vignettes.
Enjoy what's here... more good stuff to come!
Friday, August 12, 2011
On Losing Family
It's funny who becomes our family. Half the time, they're not blood at all, but something better. Friends. They say blood is thicker than water, but friendship is thicker than both, and I heartily agree. Not having siblings of my own, I've adopted family from all over. People come into our lives, and if we embrac them, they can surely change ours lives.
There's a song from Wicked that I love.
For me, the saying goodbye is the hardest part. Death, while but the next great adventure, is tough. Even though it isn't the end, while the spiral just continues on, at the time, it feels so final. I always come back to the same Big and Rich song at times like this.
I guess there is just one last thing to say...
There's a song from Wicked that I love.
It well may beYou never really think about what someone means to you until they're gone, right? You might see them everyday and say I love you, but that's it. You don't tell them thank you, thank you for all of the things that they've given you or the way they've changed your life.
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...
For me, the saying goodbye is the hardest part. Death, while but the next great adventure, is tough. Even though it isn't the end, while the spiral just continues on, at the time, it feels so final. I always come back to the same Big and Rich song at times like this.
It's complicated, when love has faded
And you can't hold on anymore
You gotta let go even though you know
Your heart's gonna hate it
And it just might break it
The only solution, is making the conclusion
That it's just another lesson in life
Even though it's over,
it's never really over at goodbye
No matter how hard you try
[Chorus:]I've cried my tears, and now, it's time to celebrate a life. The life that gave me two of dearest friends, the ones who have been there when all my human friends have gone away. I'll see you on the other side, mama horse.
You never stop loving somebody
No matter what you tell yourself
You never stop loving somebody
You just, start loving somebody else
 |
| I have him because of her. |
I guess there is just one last thing to say...
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Fear
Written a few days ago...
Close your mind to sentiment and your heart to feeling.
Run, run faster than you've ever run before.
Hide away, lock yourself away from the pain that is sure to come.
Forget the joy, the sorrows, the laughter, forget it all.
Embrace the unfeeling twilight.
Embrace the fall.
Close your mind to sentiment and your heart to feeling.
Run, run faster than you've ever run before.
Hide away, lock yourself away from the pain that is sure to come.
Forget the joy, the sorrows, the laughter, forget it all.
Embrace the unfeeling twilight.
Embrace the fall.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Pilgrimage
I fully understand why repetition is such a part of religion. I walk these trails, swim these lakes, climb these mountains, and search this feeling out in the same order, every year. It is my trip to Mecca, my cathedral, and my Wailing Wall. My pilgrimage begins in a drive to the top of the world and a small descent into a dimple in it. My supplicant steps take me over the flats and to Ferron, Deep, Duck, and Emerald waters respectively. I bow to the family trees and meditate in the fields of indian paintbrush and count my riches in the creeks running gold. And the rhythm gained here lasts the year...my pilgrimage is complete.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Hands II
Written
I take a second look at my hands, and I see more than i saw the first time.
They've been ripped up from doing work on the house, long red marks where the blisters have popped and the skin hasn't quite healed yet. There's white bits of skin too, loose skin that I'm constantly picking at. There's scrapes and slashes from the world, where I've been doing construction where and a loose nail just happens to catch on my skin, or a errant dog claws tends to find a home, long lines on my arm.
Looking at my hands, I wonder if I'm going the right place in my life. Would I be better as an artist, finding time to paint and to sculpt, always having clay under my nails? I see my fingers and feel the strength in them, strength that lets me throw a damn sexy pot on the wheel. I wonder if working with clay all the time is the way that i should go, or if people is more my style. The, I remember what I was doing a few days ago, remember why I chose the path that i was on.
It's still raining outside, and I can feel the coldness of the support pillar against my back as I lean on it and drink my coffee. I'm here, sitting, watching the people at the museum, again, knowing why i do what I do.
But back to the hands again, hands that can span ten white keys on the piano without thinking, hands that love to play jazz and blues and everything in between. These are hands that are more than just a writers hands, more than just the hands of a sometimes horse trainer and potter. They're not just working hands. They are hands that hold a story in their depths, each crease, each line and scar a memory, a tattoo with a better story.
I take a second look at my hands, and I see more than i saw the first time.
They've been ripped up from doing work on the house, long red marks where the blisters have popped and the skin hasn't quite healed yet. There's white bits of skin too, loose skin that I'm constantly picking at. There's scrapes and slashes from the world, where I've been doing construction where and a loose nail just happens to catch on my skin, or a errant dog claws tends to find a home, long lines on my arm.
Looking at my hands, I wonder if I'm going the right place in my life. Would I be better as an artist, finding time to paint and to sculpt, always having clay under my nails? I see my fingers and feel the strength in them, strength that lets me throw a damn sexy pot on the wheel. I wonder if working with clay all the time is the way that i should go, or if people is more my style. The, I remember what I was doing a few days ago, remember why I chose the path that i was on.
It's still raining outside, and I can feel the coldness of the support pillar against my back as I lean on it and drink my coffee. I'm here, sitting, watching the people at the museum, again, knowing why i do what I do.
But back to the hands again, hands that can span ten white keys on the piano without thinking, hands that love to play jazz and blues and everything in between. These are hands that are more than just a writers hands, more than just the hands of a sometimes horse trainer and potter. They're not just working hands. They are hands that hold a story in their depths, each crease, each line and scar a memory, a tattoo with a better story.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Hands I
Written
I wonder it would be like if someone were to change bodies with me and see my hands.
They aren't the hands of someone who spends a life inside, fingers white and soft, the nails manicured. No, my hands are those what have done a day's work outside.
But if someone were to look at my hands, what would they say? Would they comment in the numerous scars from years of playing with knives and other tools, the burns from ropes, the calluses of a shovel, and the fine lines the sun and clay leave in someone's hands. I've got long fingers perfect for playing the piano, and the strength in them from long years of doing just that.
My nails aren't perfect--and i don't want them to be that way. I'd rather have paint and clay under my nails than the perfect French Manicure every day.
I look down at my hands right now, and I see many things. There is the scar on the back of my right hand from where I got hit with a garbage can, and the three white scars on my thumb from metal ribs and glass when casting one of my first glass sculptures. I've got blisters from remodeling, angry red patches that hurt when I type, but remind me of the happy work that I've been doing.
I've got calluses, too, calluses from long days using a shovel and a pitchfork, calluses and scars from the effects of baling twine and hauling hay. Mine are working hands, and I like that about them. I like the constant black smudges from ink and the perpetual hard spot on my middle finger that comes from writing with a fountain pen.
I wouldn't trade my hands with anyone.
I wonder it would be like if someone were to change bodies with me and see my hands.
They aren't the hands of someone who spends a life inside, fingers white and soft, the nails manicured. No, my hands are those what have done a day's work outside.
But if someone were to look at my hands, what would they say? Would they comment in the numerous scars from years of playing with knives and other tools, the burns from ropes, the calluses of a shovel, and the fine lines the sun and clay leave in someone's hands. I've got long fingers perfect for playing the piano, and the strength in them from long years of doing just that.
My nails aren't perfect--and i don't want them to be that way. I'd rather have paint and clay under my nails than the perfect French Manicure every day.
I look down at my hands right now, and I see many things. There is the scar on the back of my right hand from where I got hit with a garbage can, and the three white scars on my thumb from metal ribs and glass when casting one of my first glass sculptures. I've got blisters from remodeling, angry red patches that hurt when I type, but remind me of the happy work that I've been doing.
I've got calluses, too, calluses from long days using a shovel and a pitchfork, calluses and scars from the effects of baling twine and hauling hay. Mine are working hands, and I like that about them. I like the constant black smudges from ink and the perpetual hard spot on my middle finger that comes from writing with a fountain pen.
I wouldn't trade my hands with anyone.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
GOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAALLLLLL!
Yes, I'm missing World Cup Soccer. <3 watching it on Univision, where the announcers make the Goal last for 30 seconds or longer. I haven't had the time to get any sort of soccer fix, truth be told, but that's okay, because I achieved a goal of my own!
Last year, I wrote that I wanted to tighten up my writing, to remove the fluff and crap that had long been the bane of my sometimes existence. Well, I've officially done that. Try cutting words to make character counts out of pieces that are super tight. IT SUCKS! But, it's definite improvement--last year, they were so fluffy that it is now nauseating.
Yup, just wanted to give a shoutout to myself.
Now, I may well go find some fútbol to watch.
Cheers
Last year, I wrote that I wanted to tighten up my writing, to remove the fluff and crap that had long been the bane of my sometimes existence. Well, I've officially done that. Try cutting words to make character counts out of pieces that are super tight. IT SUCKS! But, it's definite improvement--last year, they were so fluffy that it is now nauseating.
Yup, just wanted to give a shoutout to myself.
Now, I may well go find some fútbol to watch.
Cheers
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)