Great Friends

One of my dear friends is a kind, sweet, and thoughtful young woman, one of those strange people that you don't meet often: A Marvelous Friend.  From the day I met her, she has always been a person you can depend on and trust.  She gives till it hurts.  She plans things to the smallest detail.  She is always there for you when you need her, even if you don't ask her to be and, right now, she's my favorite person because she just gave me a metric ton of beads.

Naturally, I'm going to show them to you, because, why else would I mention it?

Lime green, black and shimmery silver Murano glass beads

I've known her since high school, back when she dyed her hair black, wore maroon lipstick and worked with the theater club making and painting sets.  Even then, she was kind of a reckoning force: Stellar grades, solid extracurricular activities, and the best-designed planner in Queen of Peace. 

Black, White and Shimmery Semi-opaque Murano Glass

That was important back then.  Your planner was a collection of your hopes, dreams, goals, ideals and where you kept your class schedule.  Personalizing it made it clearly and irrevocably yours in the world of plaid skirts and white polo shirts.

That swirly pendant looks dangerous.

There were three things the administration didn't touch: your socks, your planner and your hair.  Necessity regulated hair-style changes.  A ponytail doubled as a handy pencil case in a pinch, so it was most preferred.  Socks and planners were the things we were allowed to go wild with.  You saw everything in a person's planner.  Was she a nature lover?  A preppy chick?  A sports fanatic?  A rave-loving wild card?

Bats, skulls, pumpkins and pentagrams!  Huzzah!

Or a kind down to earth person who was a closeted horror movie-fanatic?  Seeing a person's planner told the story.

Happy Birthday and thanks for everything, Lizzer.

Sweet Heart

I decided to work on something simple this time.  Beaded chain, swarovski crystal accents and a gentle, sweet and feminine pendant keep this particular necklace delicate, yet playful.    It's perfect if you want a bit of glimmer around your neck, but not a lot of big bold statements.  Honestly, as fun as statement necklaces are to make, they don't wear well with EVERYTHING.  Sometimes a good old pendant without the frippery works fine.

When you're putting together a design, something to always consider is color scheme.  Pink and gray is one of my favorite combinations.  Where pink is usually seen as lively and warm, gray is just the opposite. Dull, lifeless and cold.  Together they capitalize on each other's strengths and weaknesses.  I used dull, brushed steel for my findings: eyepins and clasp.

 For the beads, I chose pink AB swarovski rhondelles, shiny swarovski metallic pewter rhondelles, and pale pink semi-opaque bead with a subtle gray pearl iridescence.  It makes the beads seem to glow.  The swarovski transparent pink beads would normally have their sheen dulled by the brushed steel findings, but the AB and the addition of the metallic beads reflects more light onto them and makes them stand out.  Combining light and shadow makes an optical illusion.  The dull, matte texture of the findings lets them fade into the background while the iridescence of the beads makes them stand out.  Together, the beads seem to float, suspended on nothing.  And then you have the pendant, pale, frosty pink, catching your eye at the last minute with a surprising amount of intricacy.

It's a match made in heaven.  ....Well, it's really pretty.

Ciao Bella!

Knowing Your Friends: A Theorhetical Guide For Gift Giving.

Many people have trouble picking gifts for their loved ones.  You have to figure out if so-and-so is still into this thing or that thing.  Gift-giving requires a lot more brain-power than we're used to.  You have to relate past events, decipher a person's behaviors and common motives in order to get something good.  That takes effort.  People don't like EFFORT.  Each year, I'm sure that tons of women get gifts of scented bath things, gift cards to decidedly 'girly' stores, jewelry or something else that makes people state proudly that 'buying for women easy'.  What a joke.

....yay.

Buying for women is the same as buying for guys.  Still it's a lot easier than people think- IF you pay attention.  That's the key to never forcing someone to feign joy over a pitiful gift ever again.  Pay attention to what they like.  Take note of what they get excited over, what they talk about, what they use often, and what they haven't already bought for themselves.

A few years ago, my friends and I took a vow to never buy the 'typical' go-to gifts for women for each other or anyone else ever again.  So far, it's been a success.  No one gets jewelry, knick-knacks, fragrances or lotions unless it's something really cool that they haven't heard about yet, or it's a fragrance that we already know the recipient likes.  Nothing is returned to the store, no sad faces appear at our holiday parties, and we, as a group, get the best gift that can be given: frequent heart attacks brought on by the terror of unexpected shrieks of excitement. 

You're happy, but we need a better way to express it.

The fact that we pay attention to each other's likes and dislikes isn't just a way to ensure we get the perfect gift.  It also forces us to have a better and deeper understanding of each other as people.  We have to listen to each other, observe each other's moods, and share in each other's favored activities even if it's not something we'd pursue on our own.  We're face-to-face with each other's differences and we learn appreciate every single one. 

It breaks barriers that we didn't realize were there and makes us stronger as a group.  We share our triumphs, trials and embarrassments.  We aren't caged by self-doubt or suffering in silence, because we're aware that there's someone who will listen and help without judgment. Or... you know, we could all just be crazy.

I don't think we're crazy.  I honestly think we've got a good thing going.  Our interests are reaffirmed by our peers.  We're constructively and actively listening to each other.  Most importantly, the people we share our lives with are willing to be HONEST with us when we're wrong and supportive when we're not.

Since Valentine's Day is coming up, take this into consideration before you buy someone a lame card, those God-awful chocolates, or worse, some uncomfortable chaffing underwear that's more for you than them: Any holiday that is about LOVE, APPRECIATION, and CARING should only include gifts that are purchased with the goal of making the recipient happy.

All photos courtesy of Google images.

Spring Cleaning

I know it's not spring, but after I found the courage to keep trying no matter how many times I drop the tools, I delved into my treasure chest to see if there was anything I'd packed away worth pulling out.  Call it a cheapo attempt to convince myself that inspiration is undefeatable.  The first thing I needed to do was to unpack my beading supplies and reorganize.

Yeah....

Let's face it, at this point I have no idea what I have any more.  Sometimes digging through old boxes and crates can get the juices flowing.  Here's some stuff I have left within easy reach for soon-to-come projects.  Keep in mind that this sample isn't ALL I have in my stash, just the things that I'd forgotten  I had or quirky little bits that are making me extra giddy.

Those long tassels are hella sexy.  I can see myself tangling with them soon.

I got these on clearance when one of my besties got married- two years ago.  

More flowers, Aztec inspired discs and 'Shoe horse' charms. 

Check department stores for broken jewelry- sometimes you can get cool charms for a dollar.

This would make a great chess themed charm bracelet...

The sad thing about the above charms is that some of them are things I made myself or purchased for cut rate prices from department stores where they'd broken off whatever designer item they were originally attached to.  Hunting and gathering are my specialties.  I can probably find just about anything for 20% of the original price.  Sometimes I use and sell them right away. Other times, they are forgotten.  

Sometimes my tastes lean towards the dark... 

Aged looking artifacts...

And the organic and classic sorts of pendants..

There's more hiding out in other bead boxes or bags, but at this point, I really need to focus on turning the things I've found into wearable art, not overwhelm myself with more shiny things. 
How many of you other crafters have a surplus of supplies that you forgot and buried under the strata of your habitual collecting?

Hat: A Bit of the Meadow

This is my second hat attempt.  My creative juices were beginning to gain steam as I started to disassociate the little ready made hats with 'completeness'.  Looking at them more like broken watch parts to be assembled into something for my own designs helped me to determine how their shape and size could lend itself to something cute and whimsical. 

The hats are small, only about 5 inches tall.  There's a limited amount of pomp and circumstance you can toss on them before they become ridiculous and topple off your head in a burst of over-balanced glory.  Still, I wanted to try something more fantastical. 

YAY BUTTERFLIES!

I brought forth this little baby.  I bet you can't guess what the butterflies came from or what they're made of.  They're actually scrap-booking supplies.  Glittery, glacee butterflies to be exact.  For those of you who don't know, glacee is a weird semi-flexible polymer. They commonly use it to make synthetic leather. 

I was afraid that the glitter and rhinestones would fall off, so I gave the butterflies a liberal application of air-dry resin, followed by some clear nail lacquer.  Those are the only things I know that will protect a glittering object from shedding without dulling its sparkle.  Very important since these babies are attached to a hat and one expects them to be bobbling around on your head as you skip and sway at your fancy tea parties.

It's like you took a tiny piece of a faerie meadow and plopped it on a hat!

This hat was fun to make.  I set aside my internal filters and decided to just have fun with it.  In the end, the decorations that I thought would be 'too much' ended up being cute and tasteful when paired with small flowers and a simply black felt hat.  Take some design cues from that. 

I want to make something like this again- or perhaps, something much grander.  We'll see. 

Pay It Forward

Pay it Forward was a trend that I was curious about, but didn't understand.  I'd seen the words pop up on Etsy, Deviantart, and a few other craft and art hubs.  Sadly, with increased laziness and humanity's increasing inability to articulate itself (despite most entertainment and social networking leaning towards text-based formats), the best explanation of what 'Pay It Forward' was and meant was something like this, "Well, you know.  Pay it forward.  Like you pay it forward."

I asked several different people who were running 'Pay It Forward' advertisements and promotions on their blogs, art hubs, and Etsy stores.  The answer was always something like, "Well, you know.  Pay it forward."  That's not an explanation!  That's a tease.  You've disappointed me again, humanity.  Why do I keep trusting you to do better?? 

So, I sort of shoved that curiosity to the side and focused on other things.  Since no one knew what Pay It Forward was, perhaps it was not important for me to know either.  That is, until one fine literary lady posted a Pay It Forward comment on her Facebook.  My reaction: Another chance to ask what the HECK this means!  Yes!
So, I asked Ann what does 'Pay It Forward' mean.  Being a former English teacher, she was happy to tell me.  It's like a chain letter, but instead of forcing people to repost some annoying message in their status for fear of non-existent reprisal, you substitute the gloom and doom for a good deed.  The theory is, that if it's handled CORRECTLY there's a recurring wave of good deeds and wonderful surprises that eventually works its way around the world.  Ann's Pay It Forward was geared towards crafting.  Golly Gee Willikers Batman!  That sounds great! 

OMG!  For real?

I joined in on her pay it forward...and immediately ran into problems.  Apparently, some people equate 'Pay it Forward' with 'Freebies' and are opportunistic scavengers who will not only assert, insist, and berate you until they get their free thing, but they will also belittle it and refuse to 'pay it forward' themselves.  You know who you are. 

What I learned from this whole thing was heartwarming (I think that was the point of it, actually).  By sticking yourself out there and becoming someone's beautiful surprise, you not only enable them to be someone else's surprise, but you boost their self-esteem and motivate them to try and learn something new themselves.  I have not delivered all of my Pay It Forward gifts, but the few that I have sent off to their new homes were met with glee and almost immediately a chain began to form.

My gift of yarn became mittens for someone who's always losing theirs, and the money that would have been spent on mittens was spent on supplies to make greeting cards, one those greeting cards was written in and given to an old woman, that old woman got up and made someone some cookies, those cookies were eaten at someone's craft party, the craft party spawned all manner of creations and it continues from there.  One, long, heartwarming chain of good deeds.  I hope that it continues beyond what I can trace and maybe, it will get to someone who really, REALLY needs an unexpected gift. 

You Should Be Watching: Ruby Gloom

From left to right: Ruby, Iris, Frank and Len, Boo Boo, Poe, Skullboy, Misery, Scaredy Bat, Doom Kitty, Mr. Buns the sock rabbit.

I like to have my 'You Should Be Watching" posts geared towards something few people have heard about but most people will love, including cartoon series and crazy reality shows.  Last time I pulled out RuPaul's Drag Race, so I feel, to continue the whimsy, we should have a cartoon.  Today's feature is none other than Ruby Gloom, a little known animated series from the far reaches of Canada.  It caught my eye on Netflix while I was in a horrible slump and after watching all 40 episodes, it's time for me to toss this one out so my readers can see the bright side of the dark side.

 
Origins:
Initially, Ruby Gloom was created to help market a line of clothing, toys, jewelry and accessories for goth kids and teens.  Typically, shows created for this purpose don't last very long, but Ruby Gloom aired for a full three seasons before Nelvana's writers ran out of steam.  It even won Best Animated series in 2007.  So why haven't you heard of it?  It didn't get much publicity in 2010 on Cartoon Network because it was aired in the early mornings, when no one's awake but parents taking small children to daycare.

Characters:
Ruby Gloom features a cast of characters unlike any I've seen.  You have Iris, a daredevil cyclops, Frank and Len, Frankenstein inspired conjoined twins, Poe, a poetry reading crow, Boo Boo, a ghost that prefers to play pranks, Skullboy, a skeleton kid trying to find his true calling, Misery, a banshee with the worst luck imaginable, Scaredy Bat, a bat with a Hindi accent who is literally afraid of everything, even himself, Doom Kitty, a cat that communicates via charades and violin chords, and Ruby, who I think might be a witch given her unusual sewing and crafting skills.  Each of the characters represents a different aspect of human nature and flaws and in each episode they learn a new lesson in tolerance, perseverance and personal growth.

Hi, There!

 
What I like about it:
This show features slick flash animation and uses vectors to ensure that each frame with your favorite character has the right proportions every time.  This is a plus for people who might want to adapt different scenes into wallpapers for their computers, phones or tablets.  It also makes it possible to recognize who's in a frame even if their tiny tiny.  The joy of vectors.  I also love the smooth animation that using flash with skeletons allows.  Call it a personal preference to the other flash shows they have on the air at the moment.
I also love the characters.  They start out pretty mono-faceted, (it's common in a kid's show) but as the series continues, they develop more depth and become more inspiring.  Even though the characters all live in a gloomy mansion in the place where the sun never shines, with a town full of spooky, deformed and hateful people with their own pre-concieved notions of what others ought to be doing, and their own catastrophic character flaws, they always roll with the punches.  They learn from their mistakes, try new things, and where they fail, they pick themselves back up again- especially Misery.  Even though her luck's so terrible that she has perpetual tear tracks down her face and regularly gets struck by lightning, she still maintains a positive mode of thinking despite her dry demeanor.

She can still smile this big!

Since Ruby Gloom DVDs are about as easy to find as a freckle of diamond dust in a pile of powdered sugar, I recommend you watch it on Netflix.  It's the only place, right now, that has the entire series available for viewers.  And, since it's a great series and an awesome, uplifting show, you really shouldn't pass it up.

You should be watching, Ruby Gloom.

Product Review: Shills Black Mask

A while ago, I was hunting for some sort of remedy to help with my skin's sudden tendency to explode with nasty cystic acne and I stumbled upon a sort of facial mask that peels off and apparently purifies.  The product is created and marketed by Shills an Asian beauty company.
Many Americans are insanely enamored with Asian countries and practically scream, "OOOH ASIAN PEOPLE!!" like poorly educated otaku in crappy cosplay.

But not Sailor Bubba, his Cosplay's ALWAYS Awesome!

Knowing this, I was skeptical of the reviews that read like a dating column for a mail order bride instead of detailing an experience with the actual product.  But hey.  I've got nothing to lose, so I bought a tube.
Price:
With any product one of the first things that folks look at is the price of the item.  No one wants to shell out an arm and a leg for something that may or may not work.  The cost of the Shills Black Mask was pretty reasonable considering its a facial in a tube.  Only about 3 bucks with free shipping.

Appearance:
The outward appearance of the product was pretty basic.  An all black box, and all black tube, a slip of paper inside detailing the ingredients in the product and what each of them does.

 ...Written in Gothic-style type face befitting a horror movie poster.  Should I really be using this?  Is the real cure for my bad skin or a rabid vampire leaping from the bottle and gnoshing on my neck?  Hmm...

Upon squeezing out the product on my hand, I found that it looked a lot like ...tar.  It was THICK and I mean thick.  I've used peel off facial masks before and all of them have a viscous, sticky texture that dries to a slightly stretchy film.  This stuff was in  a category all its own.  First off, it was BLACK.  When you read the package, you expect something that's dark colored, possibly semi-transparent, but no.  This stuff is as blacker than the bottom of the Mariana Trench at midnight.  It was also VERY sticky, literally strong enough to stick my fingers together.  How was I supposed to get it on my face?!  ...Luckily I managed,  with these results!

Looks like Black-Face not a purifying mask!

Final Review: Well, I didn't experience any extreme skin changes like all the folks posting macro photos of millions of gross blackheads attached to the shills mask, but it was very benificial nonetheless.  My skin was SO SMOOTH, my pores weren't as clogged, the blemishes that remained dried up and flaked off, AND alarmingly, my dark spots were a lot less dark.  I also learned that you should never get this stuff in your eyebrows unless you want to lose them when you peel it off.  My whole face felt like it had been plucked!  Ow!
At least I won't have to get my eyebrows waxed now. 

Prophetic Ducks

You know, I do make things some times.  The recent baby surge has inspired me to make baby things.  Unfortunately, I have this horrible habit of ...not remembering to take pictures when I get down in the dirty dirty of sewing or crafting.  I know, I know.   It's a horrible, terrible habit- or lack of habit I should say.
However, I have something else interesting to post that's sort of related.  A while ago, my friend Shannon and her husband Tony had their wedding reception- delayed about a year after the actual wedding due to her shyness and to ensure that their first year as a couple was not fraught with financial woes brought on by the fairytale, debt-swarming party most people splurge on.  I, the pitiful sod that I am, was unable to make the wedding, send gifts, or anything else as I was unemployed at the time.
At the reception, I made sure to bring them gifts.  I brought three gifts, representing their past, present and future together.  Something silly and nostalgic to remind them of their long, happy history together (A small sentimental plaque.), something fun and interesting to encourage them to continue to work and play together (A trivia game featuring one of the bands they listen to), and finally, something to make them look favorably upon the future (a pair of handmade sock ducks).

BEHOLD!  THE PROPHETIC DUCKS!

The future I joked about in my card hinted at a dream I'd had when I'd fallen asleep whilst crafting the ducks.   I dreamed that I was swimming in a bubbly pond full of fish.
If you've ever had a strange prophetic dream, you'll know that bubbles and fish always mean that there will be a 'new arrival'.  Months later, Shannon found out that she was pregnant.  My other friends became terrified of my handmade sock animals.  No matter how cute they were, they wanted nothing to do with them.  Apparently, a gift of cutesy sock critters means babies will happen.  It's like I have a super power or something.  *eyebrow waggle* 

At any rate, I have to finish these buntings and quilts I've been making for my new babies (My cousin went into labor this morning, so there will be another bundle of love for me to coo at.).  Hopefully, I'll remember to take pictures.

Need a pick me up? Have heart to heart with your strict mom.

Yesterday, mom and I got off to a strange start, with her asking me to make sure I scrubbed the pan from the baked chicken breasts I'd made to put over salads (I should probably post that recipe.)  Of course, at the time, I was in my room on the phone with an admissions counselor for a university offering courses that would lead me to a job, certifications, and licenses to mentor, teach, and tutor special ed students as a real job.  I couldn't answer her question about that stupid pan!

Of course, she came to my door with that patented expression of maternal annoyance and, 'you'd better not be ignoring me!'  I pantomimed that I was on the phone and this sparked a whole conversation in silent, expressive gesturing, silly faces and random pointing to objects.  She went back to her laptop to mind the queue for work, granting me enough time to finish with the adviser.

When I exited my room to clean that pan, I wasn't the happiest camper.  College is expensive.  Universities are expensive.  Graduate degrees, even when you're taking all your coursework online, are even more expensive than the four years you spend in a university getting your bachelor's degree.  Even with the scholarships I was eligible for, I still wouldn't be able to afford school without incurring EVEN more student loan debt and I also wouldn't have the cushion of a part-time job helping with my expenses. 

Naturally, my mother's mom sense was tingling!  She asked me what was wrong and I started weeping all over the place.  "Stop that crying!"  She said.  I was too busy being upset with all my short-comings and unemployed status to actually think about what she was really saying. Since we've reached this point where we can seriously talk to each other, she explained herself.

School is expensive- you know that.
Jobs are hard to come by- you know that too.
That job you had wasn't a good fit for you- You were always uncertain of your performance what you were being asked to do.  You recognized that.
It doesn't mean that you're broken or that there is nothing out there for you.
It doesn't mean that you can't find a good or a better job now that it's over.
It just means, you have more time to analyze yourself, to grow into a better and stronger person, and to expand on your strengths.
Don't worry about things.  Stop being sad.  It hurts me when you're sad.

This whole little speech/laundry list of how I should be conducting myself was both uplifting and made me feel a little guilty.  While I was being sad and making ugly faces, I was troubling my mom AND preventing myself from recognizing what's actually good for me.  Jobs are a means to an end, that end being, self-actualization, financial security and overall happiness.
If it is not creating one or more of those ends, it's not worth what you put in.  If it marginalizes your existence, your loves, and your self-esteem, it is completely worthless.  Sobbing over it is also worthless.  Dwelling on what might have been and what you could have done and why you weren't able to be Office Jesus will block out the room you need to seize your real blessings.  Thanks mom.  You're the queen.

I gotta remember this next time I get a application rejection letter. 

May 16, 2011: The First Appointment

My first doctor's appointment was on the 16th of May at the Illinois Eye Institute.  I started the day as usual.  Mother and I had discussed how I would handle work and my appointment schedule and we both agreed that coming in to work and then going to the appointment would allow me to maximize my hours (I only work an hourly temp position) and get me to my appointment on time.  Even though we'd discussed the details the weekend before, the morning of the 16th reminded me of my very first overnight field trip in grade school.  It was filled with questions.

Do you have your journal?
Is it up to date?
Do you have enough bus fare?
Do you have your directions to the eye clinic?
Are you sure you don't need me to come with you?
Do you need me to come pick you up?
Did you remember to get a book to read while you're in the waiting room?
Are they going to dialate your eyes?
Do you have sunglasses?

So many questions that I had to remind my Mother, the Principal of Punctuality (Read: The person who lives by the mantra"You're late if you get there 20 minutes early" ) that we were going to be late.  We rushed to the car and onto the packed expressway (We were late, afterall) and she started the questions again.  It was both endearing and frustrating. 
I knew that she was going to be like this until my problem was resolved, she probably wouldn't sleep, her blood pressure was going to go up, she was going to have migraines all the time, and her constant questioning was going to drive me up a tree.  She's like that about everything serious.  If it's not right, she'll poke and prod and pick at it until it is or, at least, until she completely understands the problem, COMPLETELY.  It's one of those character differences that causes more frustration between the two of us than anything.  I'll say and accept, "The sky is blue, but I wish it were a little more purple.  I'll draw a picture with a purple sky."  She'll question "Why is it blue and how can we turn it the right shade of purple NOW, get to work on time, cook dinner, sew a glamorous evening gown, and photograph it all by 10 p.m. without killing ourselves?"  It doesn't fail to whip me up into a frenzy of hysterics right along with her.

Work proceeded as normal, well as normal as possible.  My mother was still emailing me periodically with questions. 

I skipped lunch and boarded the CTA, following their RTA trip planner's directions to the Illinois Eye Institute and...promptly got lost.  Not only was the route unnecessarily convoluted, but it placed me in an area where the buses only travel one way, which meant, there was no hope of me getting back to where I started.  I ended up calling the IEI to tell them what had happened.  The very nice lady answering phones was helpful and gave me step by step directions that would lead me to the clinic.  I had no problems.  She then wrote out directions and drew a little map to help me find my way home, in a non-judgemental, grandmotherly way.  After getting lost in downtown Chicago (I have no idea why the RTA directions even included that part.  I pass the IEI on my way home.  Downtown is in the complete opposite direction.), having to walk fifty-eleven miles in 100 degree weather and sweating my hair out, I was fit to be tied... and I was pretty sure I smelled like a hog.  So, while I waited for the doctor to finish with his other patient- who took my spot since I was late, I freshened up, worked on some jewelry.
The doctor that was handling my case- We'll call him Dr. Bright- was a nice, friendly guy in his late twenties, with a huge smile and an eagerness to help that's unheard of.  He performed all the standard checks to my eyes before I interrupted him with my little journal of my symptoms.  He was astounded by how meticulously documented it was, made photocopies and swore to forward them to a colleague who knew more about this stuff than he did. 

Then, he performed more tests, all of which came up normal.  No glaucoma, no macular degeneration, no Fuch's dystrophy.  Then, he started looking in the backs of my eyes.  He was like one of the main protagonists of an anime, "We're going to get to the bottom of this and save the universe!"  It touched my heart and I knew that I was in good hands. ..Until he made a strange 'Oh...uhmm.' noise.
Suddenly, I became aware of how long he was studying each eye, the curious noises he was making and the subtlest twitches of his eyebrows (the only things I could really see with a big hulking back-of-your-eye-ball-seeing device strapped to my head).  Having a doctor who's eyebrows are doing the samba while they're examining you is not usually a good sign.  It's definitely not a good sign when he tells you, "Well, you wanna follow me to room XYZ for some more tests?  Don't worry!  It's nothing serious.  Just a vision field test."

May 9-15, 2011: And Then I Got Angry

Betrayal or the feeling of being left out often becomes hurt.  Hurt often becomes outrage.  Outrage turns into plain... rage.  It usually takes a lot to make me truly angry, but when it happens, it has happened.  Very little can be done to make it unhappen.  Like an infection, it creeps in and taints my mood, the way I process information, and the way I conduct myself.  It festers.  It is a nasty, disgusting feeling.
After my mother dismissed my crisis.  I was hurt, for the entire day.  It was my fault, really.  I'm always slow in the mornings, but still, rationality had gone to hibernate by that point.  I felt listless, but I at least tried to mirror my old self.  I made a few dry jokes, smiled where appropriate, forced myself to remember that it was Mother's Day and I that I ought to be respectful.  The following day, however, was an entirely different story.  Monday morning, I woke up blind and angry.  At my mother. 
For once, my furrowed brow was not an expression of confusion, frustration or concentration.  Just this once, my frown was actually me thinking in my head, "You mean old lady, you!"  Don't laugh.  I habitually call people exactly what feel that they are when I'm angry.  I don't make up fancy names for them or use the common expletives like "A-hole", "B***", or whatever this means "@&%@)$*@&!*"  No.

As a child, the very first time I was angry enough to want to call someone a mean name, I decided that the common mean names just didn't work and swearing was a filthy habit for people who didn't read the dictionary often enough to realize that the most hurtful words are the ones with 4 or more syllables that tell an actual truth.  The truth is the most important part.  It can't be truly insulting or truly vent your frustration if it's not true. Mean (read: irritable and/or insensitive) Old (read: older than me) Lady is the absolute meanest thing I could ever bring myself to call my mother. 

It's hard for me to stay angry for long.  I tend to get sad instead.  I tried to be more understanding of her angle in this whole thing.  I had endangered the timeliness of our arrival at church and she didn't really know what was going on.  Still, it upset me because I had tried to tell her and she didn't believe me.

It isn't the first time it's happened.  I decided that it was safer for my peace of mind and my health to just...accept that my mother doesn't always understand me when I try to tell her I have a problem.  This incident was something that I would have to take care of on my own, all on my own.  I could, ask her for advice on where to go to get help.  I could ask her for help and support once the problem had been diagnosed or resolved, but it was largely up to me. 
When you are small, it's hard to convey the seriousness of 'mommy I hurt here'.  You don't know how to communicate that something's broken in your body.  You just know that it hurts.  Kissing boo-boos, lecturing your kids about too much TV, and telling them they're faking has never helped anyone's medical conditions. (Some people actually do that.  There have been articles about child abuse cases where the parents just gave their screaming, bleeding child a bath and a tylenol.  Thankfully, this has nothing to do with anything that extreme)  Those are easy outs.  Those things don't actually fix ANYTHING.

At this point, I realized that I was well and truly an adult.  I didn't have a real job, but I was still an adult.  I was no longer dependent on my mother believing me when I said that I was sick.  No one could tell me what was wrong in my body but me.  So, I said nothing else to my mother about it.  If she didn't believe me enough to try to help me, it was up to me to find a way to help myself.  I started a journal, documenting my symptoms.  After a while, I worked up my courage and asked her what eye clinic had the best, most state of the art equipment and doctors available.  It surprised her, but she gave the information willingly.

It surprised her again when her nosiness lead her to leaf through my desk planner and she saw the notation stating that I had an appointment on the 16th at 3:00pm. 
A strange hush came over her.  She spoke to me with a wide-eyed, still somewhat disbelieving tone.  "You were serious?" When I told her yes, she said she didn't know that I was serious.  It sparked an argument which, now that I think about it, was more me yelling at her, screaming all of the frustrations that had bothered me since the morning blindness first occurred.  And this time, she listened. 

That made me happier than anything.  She listened and we resolved that I would attend my appointments and when I needed my mother to come with me, I would ask her to.  We both worked out that the whole blow-by-blow of what was happening would likely drive my mother out of her mind.  She was like that shortly before and after she was diagnosed with hypertension, so it was likely to happen again.  A certain level of disengagement would allow me to be an adult and minimize her stress levels.   That was our little plan. 

April 30-May8, 2011: It'll Get Better Soon.

For the next few days, I'd suspended my fears about my condition and waited for it to clear up on its own.  It was stress.  Nothing serious.  I had final papers due for my recreational classes.  Even though the classes themselves were recreational, the grades were not. Grades are serious, you know. 

I thought that this thing, this strange 'AM only' blindness would go away after I turned in my final papers.  There wouldn't be any reason to panic or be afraid.  Still, I started researching possible causes and planned to schedule an appointment at the eye doctor's anyway, just in case. 
Some of the possible causes were downright scary.  Fuch's Dystrophy, a condition that causes the cornea to thicken until you're completely blind.  Glaucoma, high eye pressure kills your optic nerve.  Macular degeneration, your retina tears off the back of your eye, or eats holes in itself, leaving you completely blind and without much hope. 
But, the majority of the conditions I just listed only happen to older people, or people who have a history of problems that I don't have, like high blood pressure.  I was doubtful that it was anything that serious.  I could be wrong, but it was highly unlikely.  If it cleared up after life cooled down, I could just cancel my appointment and be done with the whole thing.  No harm done.  Just stress.
But... it didn't get any better.  Nothing changed, not even after all the papers were turned in and graduation actually happened.  I woke up on Mother's day and my vision was worse than ever.  It wasn't clearing at all.

All the other days, it cleared up after I got up and started moving around.  But, it wasn't clearing up that day.  I love my mother to pieces, but I'll be honest.  That day, that Mother's Day, when she started rushing me to get ready for church, I snapped at her.  She incorrectly guessed that I was mad because I couldn't find my shoes.  Shoes. 
I think that just made me even more upset because that wasn't the real problem.  That was just one thing that I happened to rant about that morning.  I realized that I was being unfair by being unnecessarily hostile over the wrong things, so I actually tried to tell her what was wrong. 

I couldn't see in one eye.  I was bumping into things because I couldn't judge distance as well.  I was frustrated because it wasn't getting better.  I was angry that it seemed like my life was getting worse instead of becoming this fabulous world of adventure that I had envisioned it would be.  I was angry because I'd worked very hard to get through college, struggled, stressed and worried over money and grades for years.  Only to come out of the whole ordeal and go BLIND.  It wasn't fair!  I didn't want to be blind.  I didn't have health insurance, so whatever it was, I couldn't afford to get it fixed.  Sure, I got money for graduation, but all of the illnesses that sounded remotely like mine required tens of thousands of dollars to treat and screen for.  I was terrified and I felt like I'd been cheated out of my entire life.  My future was braille, if I could learn it.  But, everything I've used to define myself involved crafts, color, and beauty.  Now, my future was a formless world of unending WHITE.  No crafting, no coloring, no reading, no NOTHING.  My future was nothing.   

But, I was only able to tell her that I couldn't see out of my left eye.  She insisted that I hurry up and get ready for church.  Quick, forceful and to the point, like always.  I really needed her to listen, not be the resolute Iron Woman that I've admired my whole life... but it was a done deal.  My habitual morning slowness had cut me off from reaching her when I needed to.

I was heart broken. 

I went back into my room and got ready for church. 

April 27, 2011: 10 days before Graduation

Less than two weeks before graduation, life threw me an undeserved, hellishly ass-blistering curve ball (Sorry mom.  I know you're reading this, but I can't think of any non-expletive language strong enough for how it made me feel).  I woke up one day and found I was blind in my left eye.

Let that sink in.  Keep in mind that I was less than 10 days from graduation, already dealing with enough stress to make an elephant have a coronary, and looking forward to the freedom and independence that graduation day would give me.  I mean, I was going to be a real, live adult, able to confidently apply for real jobs with real benefits, maybe help mom get a house, maybe...maybe start my own business.  I was the future.  The WORLD was mine.  All mine.  I just had to open my eyes and see the opportunity, to reach out and grab what was right in front of my face.  At least that's how I felt, until I opened my eyes, eager for that new day and found half of that world obscured by a field of pure white.

Any sane person would have been completely hysterical.  But, I don't operate like that.  I don't panic first.  I analyze my situation, thoroughly.  I research the problem.  I locate the solution and I take a fist full of analysis to whatever 'expert' I need to see to get the problem fixed.  After the business is taken care of, the problem, fixed, and there's nothing left to do, then I panic.  My freak-out moment occurs in the moments after, when everyone's out of the knife fight without a scratch, sitting at home, watching television and in fresh pajamas.  I guess that's how long it takes for my brain to stop analyzing things in the third person and realize that it could have very easily taken its last think.

So, in a way that was totally natural for me, I sat on my bed, bewildered and staring at what should have been my room.  I recognized that it didn't look like my room, but only because half of it was obscured with fog.  I closed my 'bad eye', looked through my 'good eye'.  Switched.  Repeated the process.  It was certainly my left eye.  My left eye was malfunctioning.  The entire thing was seeing white.  I decided that it must be dirty.  I wiped it.  The world was still white.

I went into the bathroom, looked in the mirror to see if I'd somehow acquired cataracts in my sleep.  My eye looked normal.  Was it glaucoma?  It runs in my family.  I blinked and watched my pupils contract and expand.  It was the same test the eye doctor did every time I had an exam.  I know, because I asked them why they kept shining that blasted light in my face.  My left eye was the same, clear, milk chocolate brown as my right and its pupil contracted and expanded when light hit it, like normal.  I washed it out with eye drops.  Nothing changed.   I performed my morning ablutions as usual because my mother was yelling 'AREN'T YOU GOING TO WORK TODAY!?' in the background. 

I stumbled back to my room, a little disoriented, more disoriented than I realized.  I sat on my bed in complete shock for a full 25 minutes, just blinking.  I decided that it must be stress.  Stress could do anything to the human body.  By the time I got dressed, I could see as well as I did the day before.  See?  Stress.

Graduation Update

I haven't updated in forever.  No, this time there's no excuse.  There is no happy-ending sort of 'life is busy' explanation as to why I've been absent.  The truth is, I'm tired.

I'm tired, and I'm sad, and disgusted with the way my life is progressing.  I haven't even bothered thinking about my blog because it represents the things I plan to accomplish in life.  Recent developments in my life have caused me to wonder if I've over-estimated my potential.  I like to be progressive, to see that I'm actually going somewhere and making a difference somehow.  Every tiny setback is a personal insult.  To be dramatic, each setback, real or imagined is a scourge on my pride and my mission to be the absolute best Lauren, daughter of the Mahogany Stylist ever. 

None of what I'm posting now makes any sense, but it will after a few more blog posts.

Broaching Topics 2: I've Been Busy

I promised that I would post when I'd made more brooches, but I failed to do so.  I'm so bad.  Honestly, I haven't had an output anywhere near what I had during Holiday Bootcamp.  I've been reading and doing all sorts of non-jewelry-related activities.  Since, I've ventured away from hardcore jewelry making for the moment, I've acquired some new favorite books, the Hollows series by Kim Harrison.  I love it.  Not just because the main characters (An often clueless witch, a foul-mouthed pixy, and an angsty vampire) are well-developed and convincing as they go about their insane messed up lives, but because they inspired me.  I suppose it is because of their personalities.  I mean, it's amazing when you can grasp a person's personality so clearly that colors and shapes immediately spring to mind. 
Before I do some more reading, I'll update you on my progress with brooch-making.

Like most, I tend to start small and grow adventurous as I grasp the concepts clearly. 


Mrs. Daisy:  Not the first I've made, but among the simplest.  The wreath and rhinestone on top are off center on purpose though.  Experimenting with Asymmetrical Designs

 In the early stages, I'm mostly using things I've seen before as an example to run with, taking abstract shapes and putting them together to see how they strike me.  Gradually I build on what I've learned and combine them with a few ideas floating in my head to create a unique aesthetic.



Rubicante: Traditional brooch shape, but composition inspired by a Final Fantasy Boss

Usually, I'll start tossing in a few strange or unconventional elements that are not so abstract, just to have fun, play and see how it makes me feel. 

Flapper Princess: Fun and Flippant. 

Then, after a while, I say to myself, I want to try something REALLY different.  Then I start in on something that was supposed to be small that rapidly spirals out of control as my design muse looms over my shoulder growling, "IT'S NO GOOD!!!  IT NEEDS MOOOOOOORE!!! MOOOOOOOORE!!!!!"

A Real Cougar:  Brought to you by the letter L, a strange sense of humor and, "MOOOOORE!"

You can check out more pictures of these brooches and MOOOOORE on my deviantart page.

College

Okay, so, I guess I've never told you how old I am or what I do for a living.  I am 23 and I am in college.  I am also about to graduate.  Technically, I should have graduated a year ago, but silly me, I had my rebellious phase during college and it wasn't against my parents, not really.  It was against my school's bureaucracy and the series of events that led me to be a management major.
You see, I didn't want to be in the business college.  Seeing my mother wrecking her brains and under heaps of stress every quarter convinced me that I didn't want to work like that.  Dealing with the problems that come with doing group work and being 'group leader' in grade school told me that I never, ever wanted to be a manager.  I wanted to get my bachelor's in SCIENCE.  How else was I going to become a mad scientist?  Alas, I'm stuck being just a step away from a dirty politician, a management major.  I hate management in the corporate business sense.  I'm a filthy Socialist Commy, or perhaps, I belong with the likes of Emma Goldman.
If you've played Dungeons and Dragons, you'll understand this phrase: Chaotic Good with Neutral Good leanings.  In other words, I'm a motivator for change, progress and enlightenment, unafraid to work in, around and under your machine with the sole purpose of tearing it down so you can see that it's inefficient.  I tear conventions down and find a way to make them better.  At the same time, I love to help, even if you're my enemy.  I can pity a person who doesn't care if I live or die.  I can walk up to a random, injured high school kid after they've gotten jumped on by 20 people, stop them from doing the stupid thing and going after their attackers while dabbing blood off them with my ever-present wet-wipes.  I know, I've done it before.
But, I'm not a manager, not in the corporate sense, or even the 'I work for the University' sense.  I'm not a back-stabber, a brown-noser, or a cut-throat business person... nor do I ever want to be.  It's too easy for people to slip into rationalization as a defense mechanism.  I know myself.  I do it too.  When that guy tried to come through my apartment window, I did the rational thing.  I called the police, calmly waited for them to arrive and when all was perfectly safe, a report filed, the window repaired and fitted with new bars, that's when I freaked out.  In the business world, danger lurks everywhere.  It mixes all of the shark-tank exploits of Wall Street with the jealousies and insecurities that some people never grew out of .  The business world is like high school, but with no teachers or parents with enough clout over these grown-up children intent on ruining your life.  There's no punishment for bad behavior unless it's truly illegal, and sometimes, not even then.
It would be best for me to be conditioned to that sort of lifestyle and behavior.  It would be best and even beneficial for me to become a cold, over-rationalizing human-faced monster.  I don't want to be that.  I don't want to rationalize my guilts for selling people products that could kill them with the idea that I have 'fiduciary duties'.  The other thing I don't want is this economic depression. 

Yes, depression.  The financial folks don't want to call it that, but we've sunk low enough, employment's in the toilet and no new advances have been made.  I don't care if we don't look like we did in the depression in the 30s.  People had fewer clothing items, food was cheaper and there were still jobs for unskilled labor.  Here, there's nothing. 
 It's a dead zone if you come out of high school and your family doesn't have cash for college.  Heck, it's a dead zone if you do.  I don't want to be that kid in the L station with their resume strapped to them front and back, asking for a job.
I don't want to become a vagrant contemplating college as an extremely expensive mistake.  I want to feel like I can make a difference in the world or at the very least be happily and comfortably successful at something I enjoy.  I want to make my parents proud of what I've done with my life.  That's why I fear the day's job market, my own unintentional major, and the negative possibilities that may follow.  But, that's part of growing up, right?

Making Christmas, Making Christmas

La la la!

I'm making my list and checking it twice.  Gonna cross off who's naughty, not nice.  Raiding every discount bin in toooown.

It's getting close to Christmas, folks.  With all this Holiday Bootcamp Hooplah eating my free time and the sad fact that my 'inventory bin' is ...running over now, I thought it was time to devote some thought to the reason for the creation season, Christmas.  It was then that I realized that my aunts kept sending me strange text messages about clothes and CDs and shoes, not because they're weirdos like me who enjoy learning about people for the sake of learning, but rather so they could either get me to obliviously drop hints about things I might want or ascertain what things I might like. 

Yes, I am often rather oblivious.  I go to conventions and marvel ecstatically at awesome cosplay of Marie Antoinette and Alichino or Malice Mizer conveniently forget WHY I took my camera out in the first place.. Furthermore, I am that scatterbrained person who lamented losing her wallet but then found it in the freezer when she went to console herself with icecream (Don't ask.  Please.)
So, it's perfectly normal for me to have my list of Christmas gifts for other people planned out down to the color of the wrapping paper, but to not have thought of a THING to give myself.  I even have a little schedule of who I'm going to handmake cards, cookies and trinkets for already lined up and waiting for Thanksgiving break.
Perhaps, you're not as strange and obsessive as me, so you don't have your gifts all plotted out.  I decided that it would be a good idea to toss together a sort of guide for people to go bargain or 'interesting find' hunting for their loved ones.  So, with that, I'll give you my pillars of buying for gifts.
Children under 10:  This is by far the easiest group to buy for.  They're wants are simple and usually they'll just tell you.  "I want Bratz."  "I want Bakugan toys" or the ever famous "I WANT TO BE A MAD SCIENTIST!!!!"  You can usually just go hunt in a toy store for these guys.  Keep it simple, make sure it's something that they consistently go for and wrap it up cute.

Kids 10+ and Tweens:  Kids over ten are a little harder to buy for. They're trying to be like teens, who are trying to be like adults, but they still have some of the affinities of younger children.  You can find a happy medium by going with something a little more grown up.  Instead of getting them hardcore jewelry, go for something cutesy in bright colors or an outfit like one of their TV idols (kiddie style, of course), or a video game.  Most kids in my family start getting their first bits of 'sleek and stylish' technology at this age.

Teens:  With the beginnings of more adult thoughts and the greater influx of emotions (and hormones) buying for teens will always be tricky.  They have cultures and subcultures, fads and phases, strange mixtures of likes and dislikes and opinions.  BOY!  Have teens got opinions!  But, they can still be bought for.  The easiest, no-thought gift you can get for a teen is something electronic, or better yet, one of those American Express or Visa giftcards.  It's money on a card they can use ANYWHERE!  If you have an idea of your teen's tastes, branching out into CDs, Clothing (Be very careful with this one.  They are picky little gremlins), and cool little odds and ends that either have great personal meaning or aid in their quest for self-expression.
One major thing to note about teens is that they have tastes and opinions all set in their minds, much like adults.  Unfortunately, they haven't quite acquired the finesse of social BSing that adults have.  So, if you buy a teen a glowing Jesus shaped lava lamp clock that belches out bible scriptures every hour on the hour, don't be surprised when all you get in return is a pained grin (read: Grimace).

Twenty and Thirty Somethings: Being among this group, I have a good idea of what they usually want.  This group, well, we usually want something fun and quirky.  Something snarky, or maybe something thought provoking or technologically savvy.  The best gifts for this group usually fall in the realm of private jokes, fond childhood memories, and current hobbies and obsessions.  My friend once bought me a riding crop.  It was a jibe at my former status as D&D Dungeon Mistress.  Even though that thing has brought up more uncomfortable questions and embarrassments than I care to remember, I still keep it in the closet near that fat binder full of D&D monsters and I even take it out for a good laugh every now and then.

Folks 40+:  Folks in this age group usually want something of quality, something that shows that they are mature, knowledgeable and still very sexy or funny or whatever they're known for.  Yep, the 40+ group has an eye for luxury, but the maturity to still appreciate simpler things.  For example, my father ADORES getting laundry detergent for Christmas.  I stopped trying to figure out why.  My grandfather has always been a coffee lover, so I always buy him the most luxurious coffee I can find and of course, something he'll find funny like a color changing coffee mug.  The point is, find their niche, get them something extraordinary, and make sure they know you appreciate their little idiosyncrasies (But don't call them idiosyncrasies.  Just...just call them character traits)

In short, Christmas shopping is about knowing the people that you're gifting with!  It doesn't take long to pop in and chat about what someone else loves and it's actually not that hard to give a thoughtful gift. 

My next post feature random cool crap everyone will love!