What is this bullshittery?

Okay.  ...guh.  Fook.

Guuuuh.

Right.  I'm SO not okay in the health department at the moment.
Mind you, I've had allergic reactions where I could have died, and I've had pieces of bone refuse to grow... but some how?

This right now is worse.  I'm going to draw this when I feel like it won't come out like a giant glob of black ink instead of a coherent drawing, but right now my head is titled back in a sad effort to desperately not drip snot on my keyboard.

EDIT:  Okay, here's the drawing:

I sneezed and the snot got everywhere.  A head as small as mine should not have so much snot.  It does not scientifically, medically make sense.  Something the size of a bowling ball should not be able to fit an entire liquid slime elephant inside of it's tiny frame.

OH my god.

It's everywhere.

It's in my hair and on my arm and on my PANTS it's on my PANTS AND IT'S WET and it's SNOT ON MY PANTS.

...Jen took an instant Tide stick thing to my pants.  I feel like a small child who needs Mommy to clean up her shit.  ...Oh god.

Oh my fook I have class tonight.  I can't even call out.  Did that last time.  What the Hell am I going to do in class???  I'll be drippy and sleepy and I'll snot on a girl sitting next to me and she'll cry and everyone will hate me and they'll call me snot-girl forever and even if I get famous, that'll be my nickname until even my own mother calls me Snot-Girl for the rest of my life.

Oh muh guh.

EDIT:  I drew these in class:

OH! Oh.  And... and Genericon is this weekend.  YEAH I'm working the Artists Alley and I'm going to sell prints of Deddrie and stuffed cats and skull keychains and I'll be by my buddies and there will be SNOT EVERYWHERE and no one will buy anything because I have SNOT COOTIES.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHGUH what am I doing?  This is terrible!  Why now?  WHhhhyyyy?  I was JUST at the ear, nose and throat doctor.  He said I looked fine.  ...and now... and now I'm full of snot.

Oh, and I was totally illegally in a thing that was not really a study but it's okay cause now my medication for my allergies that works is available to everyone... and I'll never get any money back even though insurance covers it now.   BUT!  But now I can get the medicashuns for my allergeees.

Fuck my life.


UPDATE:  I just sneezed so hard that it felt like someone punched me in the eye.

EXTRA UPDATE:  Genericon went fine... but I was sick for SO MUCH LONGER because of it.

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.