Cranberry the Clown

My parents are well meaning people.  They work with children every day and are very good at what they do.  However, when it comes to understanding what my "friends" and I were capable of as tiny lumplings, they grossly underestimated just how horrible we could be. 

First off, my parents never said "invite your friends to your birthday!"  They (or at least my mother...  My father probably didn't really care who the Hell we brought to the house) thought it may make people in my class feel unwanted or left out if they were not invited to every single one of my birthday parties.  Well... They wouldn't have been wanted and they would have been left out, but these children were invited anyway.  Maybe my mother thought that I didn't have any friends.  I don't really know.

Either way, I invited my entire class to my birthday parties.  One party in particular managed to end this string of awesome, themed parties where everyone was invited.  Up until this party, we had done Trolls themed parties, zombie parties...  A lot of Halloween parties (even though my birthday is in November.  Shut up.)

Well, one birthday, my mother decided to get me a clown.  I was terrified of clowns for many years.  I had lived with a very nice painting of a clown and his puppy over my bed.  This picture, as a small child, did not bother me... but I was very afraid of the dark.  My nanny (old evil woman) decided to leave me in the pitch black darkness, even though I cried when she did it, and even my eight shades of crazy sister told her not to.

So I developed a fear of clowns because that clown would be the last thing I would see before I could see NOTHING.

And my mom decided to get me a clown for my birthday party.  I liked magic and magicians, and this clown, "Cranberry" did tricks.  My mother decided that she was like a magician with face paint.

My classmates (read: makeshift friends) and a few actual friends who happened to be there assisted in ripping this woman apart.  Cranberry attempted everything she could to keep us little bastards entertained, but to no avail.  We were much more entertained by ruining her life.

"I know how to do THIS trick!!  SEE???" we screeched and screamed.
"This is STUPID."  "Clowns are UGLY."  We were awful.  We tore through her entire act and rampaged her cute little set up.  We didn't let her get a word in before she burst into tears and ran off.

Now, I can safely say that I felt bad about this.  Like many young Nazis back in WWII, I went along with the others, even though I knew it was wrong, for fear of being caught in the line of fire myself.  I still feel awful.  However, it at least got me over my fear of clowns (that had no right being there in the first place).  Now I know, if a clown ever tries to attack me, I can just unleash a herd of small children and make him or her cry.


I'm fairly certain that this was her:
http://www.marlowemusic.com/cranbery.html

For the love of poop, hire this woman.  If nothing else, so I can feel like I somehow made up for that night.  

Phone calls

This just in:
My mother has found her alphabet.

...


That is all.

Of Dentists, Sick and School

Even though I have a brand new sketch done for yet another girl for the "Girls in Cups" post, you don't get to see it.  I've been sick.  I don't mean that I've been coughing or a little lightheaded either.  No.  I've been sick.  I managed to catch one of those 24 hour stomach bugs and I am currently praying that the title is accurate.  Comin' out both ends kind of sick.

At one point, I found myself crying in front of the toilet.

At another?  I stood up, my head started spinning, the room went dark and then I woke up on the floor.  I checked for pain or bruising and determined that I had had the sense to lay down, rather than just collapsing, so that's good at least. 

Another "oh thank the powers that be" moment, was when my dentist's office called to tell me all appointments were canceled.  This was because of the weather.  I was happy to not have this appointment as it was for a very tiny hole that is threatening to be a problem.  Had a cap fallen off or something, then I would have been more upset.  Instead, this was a blessing.

...but then...  I started thinking about it.  On the phone, she had stated that my dentist would still be in today for emergencies.  That means that he had the sense to say "I don't want any of my patients to die just for the sake of a cavity" but then he braved the weather himself, ice and all, to be there "just in case".  The man has children. 

So, in my already ill state, where I personify objects and make up ridiculously dramatic stories in my head (and outloud) about where the people in commercials come from, I pictured my dentist, for whatever reason, walking through an ice storm, with no winter coat, just desperately trying to make it to the office in case someone's cap fell off.  I will not draw this, for it will upset me.  Serial killer's birthdays are fine to draw.  This one?  Not so much. 
Edit: Okay fine.  Here.  

Being sick and thinking  of my dentist suffering made me less than happy.  That's "< <3" for those who only speak in fancy computer language.


Lastly, there is school.  I want to get this degree... but I don't want to have to go to class.  Mind you, I haven't even met this teacher yet.  It'll be my first day with him.  My other two teachers are my adviser and a guy I've had for other classes.  I like them.  ...But I've been ill and unhappy and ick.  I do not want to meet someone today and have my first impression be ick.

Yesterday, school was canceled.  I have no classes on Tuesdays.  ...Yesterday was a Tuesday for those who did not piece that together.

My horse and I will still be picking up my last book, but tomorrow.  Today... Today is a crap day.  It's a leftover sick day with snow that I may have to trudge through.


OH!  But!  Okay, so, one of my pieces was donated to a benefit, and a few others may go up in a place in North Adams MA!  I'll keep you all posted on that!!

And, come February 11-13th, I'll be selling prints and stuffed cats at Genericon.  That's a convention (Genericon= generic convention) at RPI.  Woot.

Edit: School was fine.  My teacher is very nice and there is a funny girl in my class.  I remember liking her in another class, but never caught her name.  ...I failed at that this time around too... Whoops.

Guitars

I realized something awful about myself today...

I think I only wanted the nylon string guitar, because I wasn't touching the steel string guitar.   If you read the edit below, you'll see that I'm just being crazy here and that there are a lot of reasons for having both guitars.

...and I think the only reason I don't touch either now is because other people play them.  I realize how crazy that sounds.
It seems, the more others play my guitars, the less I feel like they're mine.

I go from being really protective of them, but playing them all the time, to giving in to other people when they want to play... to actually feeling bad when I DO play, as though I'm stealing someone else's guitar.

In response to, "you're better at it than I am", a friend (who often enjoys playing my guitar) said, "well, I've been playing for a year.  You've only just started!"
...I've had that steel string for about a year.  I had it from way before we moved...  and my parents have been "teaching" me from long before that.  Just sayin'.

...then it becomes just letting my parents down because the guitar was pretty much the only thing I had in common with them.   I hope that we go back to a lesson a week.  That would help.

EDIT:  Apparently just posting this was helpful.  My boyfriend's support also helped quite a bit.  I know I can be scary and depressing, but luckily, he loves me.

I am now obsessively playing one of my guitars.

EDIT:  Okay!  To explain why I have two guitars beyond the weirdness above: 
1)  My mom got me the steel string and my dad got me the nylon.  They aren't divorced or anything, but it was two separate "lets bond" trips.

2) There really is a difference between nylon and steel.  My friend has a six and a twelve string. There are just LOTS of different types of guitars in the world.  My steel string is also an acoustic/electric, which means I can plug it into my tiny little amp and make it louder.

3) The neck on a steel string is actually thinner.  However, the strings of a nylon are a bit easier to pluck and hold down. (That almost sounded very sexual)  As a result, one is easier on my wrist, and the other is easier on my fingers.
One day, I also hope to own a full electric guitar just for the sound.

EDIT to the EDIT:  The steel has since been replaced by a full on electric guitar... that is too heavy for me.  It's awesome and has an inlay of skulls and crossbones in the neck, but I can only play it while sitting down.  

...Also, new fancy braces on my ring fingers will take some getting used to.  They are made of silver, so...  Hmm.

Girls in Cups!

My next mini, self assigned sketchbook project will be drawings of girls in cups. I will attempt to sketch various races, weights, hair styles and clothing. ...Also, I will use various cups/glasses. If you have a particular object or type of cup you would like me to draw, say so!
     So far, I've got:
    •    A goblet!
    •    Margarita glass
    •    Champagne flute

    •    and a classic martini glass
    •    A tea pot
    •    A Japanese tea set
    •    A burlesque girl in a cocktail glass.   
    •    A curvy girl coming out of a toaster
    •    A wine glass
    •    One lady looking really miffed about being in a sandwich.
    •    Someone asked for an ogre in a cup.  We'll see if this becomes a female ogre or an ogre with a pretty girlfriend. 
    •    As for one person saying "2 girls, 1 cup", I may just have to do two girls laughing inside a dish of chocolate mousse.

-Fairy in a shotglass.  

• •  1950s swimmers with flower covered swim caps taking a dip in something fizzy, like a mimosa or something.
    

    

    
    
    
  • a ninja in a coffee cup. ...So you may wind up a ninja.   In fact... The coffee cup can be a plastic mug shaped like a pirate's head.
    

    
    

    
    
  • ...and if I do a mermaid at some point, it may have to be next to sushi looking horrified.
    

    
    

    
    

• "I have an image in my head of a girl pouting inside an upside-down water glass with a huge piece of chocolate next to her and a string tied to a stick stuck under the edge of the glass.... like she'd been trapped there."
  EDIT: This is not at all what was suggested... but here:
  

  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  -Ice cream
  

  

  
  
• viking lady in a ornate viking challis, to which I asked "Should the viking lady be in opera-style full gear or as little as possible?"
• "Jack: "i want you to draw me in a German Boot beer glass. and i want to be pretty...maybe some sexy lingerie." and Z will be outside of the glass, with her hands on her hips, looking pissed because you are wearing her underwear.
  

    •    Female versions of historical presidents in cups of soup?  I think I'll do the girl-presidents lounging in soup (complete with spoon) as though it's a hot tub.

I figure, I'll do a bazillion sketches... and any I really like, I'll do in water color.
        I'll sketch things and see what happens.   
This is going to get very silly very quickly!

Slide and Sick Day

So, a million years ago, my family went to go visit my cousin.  ...I think it was my cousin.  I honestly don't remember anymore.  I remember that there was a lot of land and giant rolls of what I think must have been hay.  I also remember my parents assumption that I should be very excited about these giant rolls of hay.  ...I was less than enthused. 

However, there was a little swing-set, complete with a slide.  I hurried up to the top of that slide, content and sure that this slide was going to lead me to pure joy.  After all, I was a child and this was a fuckin' SLIDE!  WOOO!

I got to the top, excited and thrilled that I had scaled such a structure.  Little me said, "YAY!"

This was about when I realized that I was afraid of heights.  If I had had the ability to say anything or make any more noises beyond suddenly terrified sobs, I would have said, "Shit".

I begged my parents to help me down.  It's not like they had wandered off.  They hadn't.  My parents were RIGHT THERE, watching me, right by my bits of extended family.  I was humiliated.  I was too scared to be aware of just how embarrassed I was at the time, so instead I decided that it was time to forsake all dignity and let my parents know that I would not be coming down the easy way.

My parents refused to help me down and instead took a photo of me crying and screaming because it was cute.  (I have since asked my mom to find this picture.  She remembers taking it, but it seems to have been lost to time.)
   ...They helped me down eventually, as I am not still on that slide to this day.  Otherwise, I would be "Rowyn, Queen of the Slide People". 
I'd have a castle.

If my mother ever finds that picture, I'll post it here.



Sick Day
I used to get sick.  A lot.  In fact, through out middle school and high school, I was usually sick.  I'm not really sure how I managed to graduate, since most of my time was spent at home or in the nurses office.  I guess the logic was, "well, she's going to art school.  It won't matter how she does here."

Way back in those days, cell phones weren't handed out to kids like candy on Halloween.  As such, we had pay phones in a few of the hallways. 

One day, while I was home in bed, wondering what terrible thing had decided to lay eggs in my stomach, (seriously, I'd make up HORRIBLE stories in my head as to why I was ill) I received a call from a close friend.  I don't remember how old we were, but it was definitely during high school. 

I remember my mother handing me the phone.  Groggy, I asked, "hello?"

On the other line was my hysterical and terrified friend with only, "HOW DO YOU SPELL OF???"

I blinked a few times, trying to process what I had just been asked.  After all, the girl on the other end of the line was brilliant.  She was probably going to be a doctor or a lawyer or something.  She didn't actually wind up either of those, but either way, "of" should not have been a big deal.

Finally, I answered, "you mean...  O.  F.?"

"YES!"  She hung up.  Later, I learned that she had second guessed herself into wondering if "of" was spelled "ov" or "ove" or "uhve"  ...It got complicated. 

Many people have had the experience of (ha, "of") thinking or saying a word so many times, that the word loses it's meaning or just no longer sounds right.  This is essentially what she had done.  Rather than consult a teacher or another student and possibly face ridicule, I suppose it was only natural that she call her half-dying friend.  I was so drugged up and mostly incoherent that it may have been safe to assume that I would not remember this incident the next day.  Well, I remembered.  ...and then I wrote a blog about it.

New Year

New Thanksmas.

I wrote this before the party:
We asked people to bring things to eat and drink.  We called it a kind of pot luck and so others got excited.  When you label something with a fancy title, suddenly the most mundane thing really does feel fancy. 

I told them to bring food, drinks... Honestly anything.

The potluck thing only happened because at first we were like, "Hell yeah! We're just gonna cater this shit!" and then we realized that we are poor and so other people also need to bring things.

As is, we've decided to try to decorate the basement for use just in case we get enough people for space to be an issue.  ...This will either be fantastic or terrible and either way it will certainly be entertaining.

3 Days Later...

Here is what I'm writing now, after the party:

..."New Year's Eve" turned into "New Year's Weekend".  We called it "New Thanksmas" and then tried to shove Halloween in there too.  Our basement was adorned with orange, black and green crepe paper.  It did not look any less creepy that way.  In fact, with the occasional piece hanging down precariously, it actually looked a little more like a serial killer's basement.  Now, it just looks like the mad killer had a crazy birthday party. 

Welp, I had said to say if you wanted me to draw a silly picture for this, and more than a few people said "Hell yeah!"  So, here it is:

Many people came.  Some do not like each other.  Some actually HATED each other with a fiery passion... and then made up.  That's right.  My friends may be enormous assholes, but some of them actually do try to get along.  I appreciated that quite a bit. 

Also, my housemate made jellO shots of every color of the rainbow:

Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue and Purple all attended!  Fuck you, "Indigo".  Nobody likes that guy, so he's not in our rainbow.  "Roy G. Biv."  Fuck that guy too.  Also screw the kids who say the primary colors are "magenta, cyan and green".  ...Or even "red, blue and green".  You know who you are.  My boyfriend is one of these people.  Light also had no business at my party.  Paint says all the colors mixed together are brown.  I agree with Paint.  Light wants to be all fancy with her "white" bullshit. 

*ahem*

So, at midnight I turned into a pumpkin, but still attempted to party each night long into the day or until I felt like I was going to pass out or get sick.  By "get sick" I mean that I had gotten to the point of no sleep and too much candy where sleep was really no longer an option.  It was just a woozy time with me wandering around aimlessly pretending to have any idea what was happening.  I did not get drunk.  ...I just don't like doing it.  There were a couple other people not drinking at all.  Our party accepted all types of drinkers:  Heavy, Barely, Non, Depressive and "Wooooooooooooo!"
 Edit: I should make some kind of a test to determine which type of drinker a person may be.

At one point, a close friend happily shook my hand and said "fuck you" with a big grin.  He did this to everyone he could find after stating (again, rather gleefully) that he hated everyone.  I don't think this was so much an alcohol related thing.  He does that.  We accept him.  Personally, I accept him mainly because he accepts me.  We have a mutual understanding of, "yep.  She/He's like that."

We watched the ball drop (which I think should still be an apple, because "ball drop" just sounds... not right) and then watched lots of people make out on television.  I kissed le boyfriend. *D'Aw!*  ...Wow.  Typed "killed" for a moment.  That would have been a VERY different sort of post!
Also, the television made me realize that I am not terribly hip to the jive of the music kids are listening to today.  (Those of you who suddenly wonder if you are reading the blog of a great-grandmother of some kind... I'm 25.  I just talk funny when I am tired.  ...Like now.  Also, my sleeping boyfriend is kicking me.  He is AWFUL to sleep next to after parties.  "I wanna PUSH YOU off the bed."  "WAIT I LOVE YOU COME CUDDLE WITH ME!"  "You know what sounds fun?  Right now?  SLEEPING SIDEWAYS."  "Yeah... the bed is massive but *SHOVE* SAY HELLO TO MR. WALL!"  Sleeping boyfriend is an asshole.   Anyway, I'm not a grandma.)

We played games, listened to music and we were in general very silly.  Our upstairs elephants did not attend.

I'll probably add to this later.  If anyone has anything to add like memories, commentary of the evening(s), ...stuff, either comment or send it to me via some other means.  I'll add it in an edit.  (Also, tell me what to call you on this damn thing.)

OH and I got to eat most of an enormous apple, covered in caramel, chocolate and mini-marshmallows.  ...The apple was covered in these things in the beginning.  I was only covered in them when I was done eating the apple.

I realize that it is now 2011.  I don't think I'll remember that for long.  When Y2K hit, my computer was fine, but my brain was not.  Ever since, I've been writing things like "1910".  I think it's just proof that I'm a confused time traveler who has had my brain wiped by the gov'ment.

EDIT:  So far, one friend has said only, "HAHA".  I think this sums up the evening pretty damn well.

Dustin said, "Great blog and yes, they let anyone have a blog now!"  This is, of course, in reference to my saying "GUYS!  The internet let me have a BLOG!  Me!  I can post things for the world to see!"  Somehow, I thought this would help me succeed at dominating the world.

Slizzard

So, apparently "slizzard" (sometimes spelled "slizzerd") is another term for "really drunk".  I was unaware of this fact until recently.  Being unaware of how the term was coined, I made up my own logic for it. 

I decided that once upon a time, there was a very drunk lizard who had trouble stating his own name.  Illustration below: