Just a little bit wicked

Wanted to share some new work:

Green and Sultry Summers


A Sharpened Heart
(I posted the TimeLapse of this the other day)


Please note: These images are not to be copied, redistributed, reposted, or altered in any way, shape or form without my permission. Think before you right-click.

Both images are available as prints and puzzles and more through my Store

Hopefully, someday soon, I'll have my new website up and running. In the meantime, make sure you're signed up for my blog RSS feeds
http://wickedeye.wordpress.com [edited with the correct bloglink]

He's two or three rows behind me in the auditorium. I can't see his face but I know just by the sound of his voice what to expect. Big guy, porcine complextion, little squinty eyes from staring too long down the barrel of his rifle, football t-shirt, maybe a ball cap. I'm stereotyping, but that's the sound of his voice: Midwest Redneck.

His voice carries farther than my row, but that's all the farther it needed to go, anyway.

"Naw," he chuckles, "you jest raight-click on the pichure and it'll save it." (Yes, this is how he talks. No, I'm not exaggerating. Much.) "'N' even if'n they's got it so's you cain't, you kin jest do a screenshot of it. That's what I do. 'S how I got my logo fer my team. Shit, I wa'n't gonna pay four damn bucks for a logo."

In my palms four cresent red welts appear: the artist/graphic designer's stigmata. We bleed every time an art thief gets away with it. I want to climb, Samara-style, backwards over the seat, disjointed as a spider, until I'm looming over him, my eyes pitch-black and demonic, and vomit up four dollars in his lap. Then scream in a banshee's unholy wail "IS FOUR DOLLARS TOO EXPENSIVE FOR YOU, YOU TIGHT-FISTED REDNECK FUCKTARD?" Unfortunately, I'm not hinged that way.

The thing is, it got me thinking again about how the arts are regarded in this country. It got me thinking about what a misnomer the word "talent" is, and how every day I hate it a little more. "Talent" denigrates artists of all kinds.

Think about this: if a ten year old kid likes to tinker with his bike, fixing the chain when it busts, installing new accessories on it, and such, although most of his friends wouldn't know a socket set from a screwdriver--do we call him talented? Or the computer whiz that figures out how write their own game, is he talented? Or the kid who can do all his math in his head without counting on his fingers, and who understands long division when everyone else is still on multiplication? What about the kid in science class who figures out what you can do with some sodium and a toilet?

Do we call those kids talented? No. Not usually. But they are.

The same as the kid who learns to play the piano early, or the little girl with the Christina Aguilera voice and ear for pitch, or the kid who draws star-spangled bunny rabbits on their preschool homework that actually look like bunny-rabbits.

The problem is that in ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty years, our artists will still be "talented" and our mechanics and mathmeticians, scientists and computer geeks will be "skilled." Their jobs will garner them respect because people *know* how difficult it is to be a mathematictian or a mechanic or a computer genius. People know that it takes years of hard work and study to reach the skill level that allows you to make a living in those fields. More importantly: they most often get that respect from people who wouldn't want their job in a million years.

But artists, actors, musicians, writers, dancers... pfft. That's talent. It's easy, right? Easy to paint a picture, or sing a song, or act in a play, or write a book for that matter. Hell, deep down, everyone secretly suspects THEY could do it, too. If they just had the time, or a little more talent. They don't see that we go through the same growing process. That for us to be truly good at what we do, we have to aquire a rather advanced skill set as well. That it takes more than a natural inclination and a little imagination to do what we do.

The assumption that art is easy is one of the reasons why Arts Education budgets have been so severely cut across this country. Why should they spend money teaching kids something it's easy enough to learn on their own? Why should taxpayers pay to teach kids how to be artists or musicians or writers instead of how to get *real* jobs? Why teach them hobbies? We *need* more mechanics and doctors and computer experts and engineers... but we don't really need artists or musicians or actors. To that I say: imagine if you will a world where there was no art, no music, no design, no fiction or poetry or song or dance. Who would do the technical drawings in your anatomy textbooks? Or draw road maps? or design your cars or websites or merchandise? Who would write music that makes you remember someone you lost, or proud of your country, or angry at politicians? Who would design your clothes, or sew them? Who would make you laugh? Still think we're not neccessary?

But I digress from my original point. Let's clarify something:

"Talent" is, really, a natural inclination towards a subject. It's what drives you to pick up that pencil or screwdriver in the first place. It's what allows you to see the true colors in clouds or the way program code works. It's what tells you that two notes will sound nice together or that you can divide that number by that one and get a whole number. It's what makes a class clown funny.

"Skill" is Talent plus Training. It's the years of study into human anatomy, whether you intend to apply it on paper in a drawing or in three dimensions on an operating table. It's the years of practice that allow you to hear the individual notes in a chord, or the difference between an engine running smoothly or with a cracked mount. Skill is in the hands of a doctor, or a writer or an artist or a musician. It's in the voice of the opera singer or the politician or the professional actor. In the timing of a professional athlete or a comedian or a marksman.

But until people start seeing that, we're still going to have to deal with people like my grammatically-challenged art theif, who won't shell out a few bucks for a logo. Because to him art doesn't represent anything he understands. In his peanut sized brain that logo probably magically sprang into being, straight from the artist's pen like in a Bugs Bunny cartoon. Someone didn't have to come up with the idea, or figure out the best way to execute it, or try and find the right colors for it. It's not even worth less than the price of a Whopper. You can bet that same four bucks, though, that he wouldn't just walk in and steal a Whopper. Or a four dollar object from a store. He'd never ask a plumber to fix his busted toilet for free, or a mechanic to change his oil for nothing.

But his morals don't apply to art because it's just a hobby, a talent, something he doesn't even think about.

And hey... it's not like he's ever going to get caught. Who cares about a little piece of art anyway?

Being busy, busy, busy

Or trying to be. :D Finished up a couple of major projects, have a couple of more I'm getting ready to start. I'm really thrilled with how much my work has improved since I've been painting full time. It's so freeing to be able to sit and paint and know that you only need to stop when you're ready -- or when you have to take care of basic neccessities like eating or going to the bathroom, of course. It's enabled me to really concentrate on tightening up the stuff I paint.

I decided to experiement a few days ago with working on an image in black and white and then adding color. A lot of digital artists work this way, which baffles me. I think, even once you add the color it desaturates the image, but in this case it helped me achieve the feel I was going for. I time lapsed it for a You Tube video, if you want to watch:



We're pet sitting right now for a friend who has two very large, very fluffy, very skittish kitties. One of them is sweet and shy and HUGE and has spent most of the night and this morning laying in the corner, hidden, with only her tail poking out. The other is not so sweet, and not really shy, but very skittish and prissy and has spent most of the morning hiding under the bed. Mina has properly identified the first cat as not a threat and pretty much ignores her. Zelda on the other hand freaks her the hell out so she wanders around hissing and growling and spitting and generally being pissed off if Zelda is in the room. Right now she's sleeping on the futon behind me. Nikki (John's cat) just loves everybody and is oblivious to any kinds of hostilities.

I have some News, but I can't really talk about it yet cause it's not Official News or even For Sure News. However it makes me do the happy dance and stick my tongue out at the brownish gray nastiness that is the view from my office window.

Degrees, that is. I can't wait for winter to end.

The bone boy is home today with a stomach bug that I'm trying not to catch. I had it last year, while in San Francisco, and although the cold tile of the bathroom was a blessing there's something about throwing up that makes you want your own bathroom. Even though you don't have housemaids to clean up when you're done.

Hopefully his is just a 48 hour thing that'll pass quick instead of around. He can't afford for it to be longer, he's too skinny for that kind of thing.

My mind is kinda jouncy today. Result of the insomnia kicking my ass again every other night. I need sunlight, but there's none to be had. I'm painting it instead.

Stuff in progress:
- concept art for majes (in planning stages)
- project for sister (almost done)
- submit work for Expose (have to do that today or tomorrow)
- cover art for new Cobblestone book (nearly done, bump up on priority list for deadline)
- Swamp Fae painting (in progress)
- Jhereg painting (in progress-undergoing compositional re-evaluation)

Also, stories to write and things knocking on my brain asking to be let in every night. Not good. I'm going to have to start writing again because they're far to complicated to be settled in a painting. I get the best pictures in my head while lying in bed waiting for sleep to come. It's like I have this magical file folder up there, filled with more paintings than I could possibly paint in my lifetime. I thumb through them when the lights are out and look for whatever is calling me at the moment.

Lately it's swampy things: snakes and turtles and my absent egrets. Little faeries that look like dragonflies, with fuzzy green hair and armored bodies and long fingers. Handsome, black eyed swamp spirits dripping with dirty water and dappled in green shadows. This one feels more personal than anything I've done in recent memory. It's tied up with that longing for sunshine and green shade and cypress trees that hits me every time I look out the window at the snow covered ground.

My feet are cold.

Not just sort of cold, I'm talking stick 'em in a glass of soda and watch it frost cold. Last I checked it was 19 degrees outsides and dropping. There are some things I really miss about Florida.

What's up, what's up... and how badly I keep track of it all. Hmmm...

My art blog (the official one) is over at wordpress: http://wickedeye.wordpress.com. I post to it mostly regularly.
I also started a book review blog for stuff I read this year at http://bythecover.wordpress.com. I've already fallen behind a littlle. I read too much. :D

January was a productive month. I'm loving what I'm doing artistically. I have some art that's going to be featured in an upcoming issue of Imagine FX magazine (on the included DVD). I've got some game art commissions from majes lined up for February. I'm nearly done with my pixelbrush.net Faces entry, and it's gorgeous. And I'm tinkering with an Idea for a novel... which will never be published, but the story is kind of poking me every time i turn around so I migh as well write it, right?

I swear I had stuff to write when I started this entry, but it occurs to me that I'm actually hungry, and if I want something to eat I need to go defrost it soon.

Sleepy. Sister woke us all up at 6:30 this morning to unwrap gifts.

Remind me next year to buy her some sleeping pills.

Other than that, it's nice to be in Florida where it's warm and I can wear t-shirts without having to layer them over long sleeves and under jackets. It's been a lovely Christmas so far. I adore all my gifts (especially my Pirate Santa Claus from my mom and dad) and John bought me the Prestige (Hugh Jackman, Christian Bale, AND David Bowie=*drool*).

I'll be here through the 30th before I head back to KC. I'll try and give people a call tomorrow to see who wants to hook up when. :D

Miss you all, and Merry Christmas!

Kansas City is a lovely place, but something of a culture shock. John and I stopped at Target this evening to buy new bookcases, and I realized, for perhaps the twentieth time in the last two weeks (and I still manage to be surprised by this every time) that the majority of the people around me... were WHITE. I feel like my world has gotten a little bit blander.

Although, the trees almost make up for the lack of cultural diversity. Something about walking down a sidewalk through a drift of crisp crimson maple leaves makes my heart do a little two step. The promise of snow, however, kinda kills that feeling, though the temperatures have been in the 60's for the most part.

John took me out to see my first "real" concert the other night. "Real" concerts, mind you, don't really seem to count watching The Backstreet Boys perform at grad night a million years ago (including watching Nick Carter hump the speakers). Or seeing Robert Randolph and the Family Band/Ziggy Marley a few months back, while standing in a dirt lot surrounded by a bunch of drunk white rastas and middleaged hippies.

No, this was a big concert, in a big arena: Van Halen. Now, please to remember that until they started playing I had no clue as to what songs Van Halen was responsible for bringing into the world. I knew a couple of them "Pretty Woman" "Jump" etc., once they got into them, but had no clue until then that they were Van Halen songs. I didn't even know Eddie Van Halen's first name till the other night, or that David Lee Roth was a singer. Still... I was expecting something a little more... rockin? Instead it was a lukewarm performance by a bunch of guys who looked like they were rockin in their own little world with no relationship to the other people on stage.

Eddie was looking kinda like the Cryptkeeper, and practically masturbating his guitar. Wolfgang (who should really consider changing his name) was very cute as the 16 year old bassist, and looked pleased as punch to be playing with his dad... but not like a hardcore rocker who should be on stage with the grandparents. Alex Van Halen looked like a muppet... only far less animated on drums than Animal. Also, his dentures were SCARY. And Roth... well, I wasn't sure what his deal was. He wasn't keeping time to the music, he was changing the words to the songs, and he was shouting more than singing. Also, he looked like Sgt. Pepper. humping a giant inflatable microphone--which, come to think of it, wasn't that much different than the Backstreet Boys concert.

I'm *mostly* unpacked. Still a few boxes here and there, still need to finish finding the office and stuff. Need to put the bookcases together tomorrow and then try to bring some form of organization to our combined libraries.

For those of you who weren't able to attend, the wedding was lovely, if humid, and I'm very, very glad it's over and almost November.

Speaking of, I've decided that, since I have the time, I'm going to try to do Nanowrimo this year. I have no bloody clue what I'm going to write about, but if you want to keep track of my progress, my profile is here: Mercuralis

Also, I've started an actual, offical art blog for all of my drawings, paintings, etc. A friend was also nice enough to set up an LJ RSS feed for it, so if you want to subscribe, you can do so via your favorite Reader here: Wicked Eye Designs Blog, or via your LJ friend's list, here: WickedEye LJ RSS feed. This, by the way, is replacing my old LJ communities, which I've deleted. This is the only LJ I'm planning on maintaining from now on.

I just want to thank gruscanadensis, gloryinthunder, and mademeink27 for the wonderful day yesterday. We spent the whole day at Epcot, and Magic Kingdom (with a brief stop at MGM), and had dinner at Downtown Disney. It was fun. It was wet. Good times were had by all--except my feet.

You know, I was so focused on the massive blister forming on the bottom of my right foot I didn't even notice it's neighbor moving in on the bottom of my second toe. ... Nor the small community of blisters being built on my left foot. I counted six this morning. Still, I had such a good time, I feel fondly toward them. Like souvenirs. ;)

One week to the wedding. Packing, moving, more packing, cleaning, appointments, things to do, money to pay... it's going to be a hectic week. I may not resurface till after, and after the move.

Wish me luck.

Yeah, yeah... everyone else is doing it.

1. Go to http://www.careercruising.com/.
2. Put in Username: nycareers, Password: landmark.
3. Take their "Career Matchmaker" questions.


The best part about this: it's ridiculously accurate for me--With the exception of the fact that I have no musical or linguistic talents.

Bold - am or have been at one point in time
Italic - have considered doing

1. Costume Designer

2. Set Designer

3. Special Effects Technician

4. Fashion Designer

5. Sign Maker

6. Desktop Publisher

7. Cartoonist / Comic Illustrator

8. Animator

9. Magician

10. Artist ( More under cut )

Am sick.

Have been sick for days now.

Want to curl up in ball of misery. Or, alternately, find a hose to suck out all my head goo.

Also, paramount hates me because they took the ironman trailer off youtube and my quicktime sound isn't work, so I can't watch it via any of the official sites.

And I can't seem to concentrate on anything for more than five minutes at a time. That might be the head cold, or it might be the drugs. I just keep spacing out in the middle of th...

I spent $68 at the bookstore today, on my way home. At one time, that would have been inconceivable, due to not having $68 to blow on books. It felt kinda good, to completely, utterly, selfishly buy books for no other reason than that *I wanted to* and *I could.*

Luckily, the most expensive book I can probably write off as a tax deduction, since it's for my freelancing work. Also, K, it's a "plastic book." :D

One of them I picked up because I saw it at work and didn't want to wait for tech to finish processing it before I could check it out and read it. Glad I bought it, read it straight through in a few hours and it was worth the cover price. M, add "Wicked Lovely" to your Hot Reads list for whichever month we add it to the shelves.

I moving again. I keep looking at the slowly accumulating stack of cardboard boxes and thinking of all the other times in recent memory I've gone through this process. Somehow, you'd think it'd get easier, but it doesn't. You'd think I'd stop buying books, since I already have too many to count and packing them and moving them is almost more difficult than moving large heavy leather sofas down uncooperative stairs.

I need to remember to add more bookshelves to the list of stuff John and I are going to need once we combine our apartments. We might need to get rid of some furniture to make room for the books... :)

Had a great day today, chatting with the folks at Marion County Public Library about the new website that K and I designed for our system. The look on their faces when I handed out the statistics for the month and mentioned that, in less than a month, our page hits have gone from an average of 12,000 hits a month, to 95,500 hits a month... I think some of them had to retrieve their jaws from the floor where they'd dropped them.

It's nice to know that, even though I'll be leaving soon, I'll be going out with a bang, rather than a whimper.

oh look... I have a new icon! See... Art!



I promise... I'll be back to hot faery men again soon.

I'm getting married in less than two months.

For many of you, that's not news, but I've been quiet for so long that I feel like it is.

I love John. I can't wait to be married to him, but I'm not the kind of person who transplants easily and I'm feeling as though I'm being uprooted. I'm moving, not just to another apartment a few miles away, but to another state entirely. I've lived in this general area for the last twenty three years. This is home, in every sense of the word. This is where my family is, where my friends are. This is where I grew up, went to school, learned to drive, moved (sort of) away, went to college, got my first, second, third, fourth, fifth jobs... I know the streets like my own fingerprints. I know that tree on the corner and what used to be in that building before the store that was there before the store that is there right now. I know which buildings are haunted, what routes to take at what time of day, and how the light looks when it's falling through those trees on a rainy evening in June.

It'll be good, I think, for me to leave it behind and start afresh, but there are huge chunks of time when I can't see that. There are days when it feels like I'm having to carve out a part of myself in order to have my heart be whole. I'm never sure which is worse: not having John, or losing my place in the world.

Today isn't one of those days, thankfully. I know deep down that I want to marry John, and that his love and my love for him (as cheesy and mushy as it sounds) will see us through this. I just have to hold on, and take each step carefully and deliberately.

With the exception of finishing up a book cover before the end of September, I'm taking a small break from drawing/painting. I need to pack like crazy, go through all of my things and decide what stays and goes. This is the fourth time in five years I've had to do this, but i've accumulated a lot of stuff living on my own. I need to give my apartment complex notice, put my job in order for a replacement that's never going to be hired, and figure out what paperwork is going to need changed, updated, etc.

After the wedding, I'm going to concentrate on going freelance with my art, illustration, and graphic design. I'm looking into going back to school, possibly online, and getting my degree in design. It's a huge step for me, but I feel like it's in the right direction.

I'll probably be around more, though I'm going to try to consolidate my blogs. Hopefully they won't all be as angsty as this one.

While I'm not a Star Trek fan, I know enough to appreciate the humor in this quiz result:

I was totally honest, I swear.( Cut for the less geeky among you )

It's morning.

I'm in the shower, awake and singing sea chanteys, because that's what I do sometimes when I'm in the shower.

Don't judge me.

Anyway, in the shower, and all of a sudden I hear the unmistakable sound of glass shattering against a hard surface. *

I have a fairly good idea of the culprit, but as I'm now wet and naked, and have just finished shampooing my hair, getting out to investigate is not an option.

I call the cat.

Mina comes in to the bathroom looking simultaneously spooked and guilty. Guilty is a rare look for Mina. Generally it's "I meant to do that!"

Concerned that she might have stepped on the glass or otherwise injured herself, I scoop her up to investigate.

I know what you're thinking. it's the one thing I *wasn't* thinking when I did this.

Mina is an unusual cat. She loves water. But she doesn't like to be IN water, as it were.

Mina was not bleeding, far as I could tell, but very quickly, I was.

A slightly wet, angry, bedraggled cat shot out of the bathroom, leaving me wet, naked, bleeding slightly from where she raked me across the chest in her mad escape attempt, and covered in cat fur.

Good thing I was in the shower.

Brains: I has them... but I take them out before I get in the shower. Wouldn't want them to rust.




*shattered object turned out to be a glass candle holder, hard object was my drawing board.

Okay, I know, I know. I don't post for a bajillion years and then when I do it's to post this:

Your Daddy Is Johnny Depp

What You Call Him: Big Daddy Why You Love Him: He's the Mack Daddy

But I TOTALLY SWEAR that was a completely honest, entirely unrigged quiz result. I entered my real father's name, and damn if I don't get Johnny Depp.

'Nough to make me consider incest, were it true.

But so as not to waste all of your precious time with no updates... 'LO I shall give you updates.

Wedding progressing. Have found dress for me, started work on invitations, priced tent rentals, chair rentals, table rentals, linen rentals, lighting rentals.... I think, if you're running short on men, you can rent grooms, too. But I haven't priced one since I already have one.

Saw Pirates 3: twice. :D Loved it. I have to say, other than a little bit of "what? who? where? why?" right in the middle, if you hang on it's a hell of a ride. And besides that: damn, Disney grew some cajones for this one. I mean, it's one of the few films I've ever seen from them that doesn't end on a sacchrine sweet happily ever after. It takes real bravery to end a movie that way (and to start a movie that way, while we're on the subject). So Disney, Gore V., Johnny D., and to all the cast and crew and writers and whatnot who made my now favorite film trilogy of all time: I take my hat off for you.

Now, go and get it. My hat, that is.

If you're going to make a sequel (torn on this subject), I will not watch it unless Johnny comes back, with Gore directing and Terry and Ted writing. Will not. At least, not anywhere where anyone will recognize me, and I'll wear a fake mustache or something just in case.

Er, what else?

Oh yes, will someone PLEASE hire my fiance here in Florida. Please? With sugar on top?

Have an art project that I'm toying around with, but haven't settled down on it yet. In the meantime, maybe if you shout out random suggestions it'll inspire something.

I received, what I perceive to be one of the strangest compliments ever, today. One of my coworkers apparently thinks I'm "hard to read." Not because I have a poker face, however, because I don't, but because I'm scary unpredictable, and she wouldn't be surprised to find out one day that I turned into a saint or a serial killer. She worries that I'll snap, but isn't sure of what the outcome of my snappage might be.

I seriously doubt that I could ever hurt someone. However, having people think I could makes me feel all mysterious and scary and cool.

Don't judge me. ;)

[Greetings]

[Vague apologies for not posting in so long. Wry commentary on how few have missed me.]

[Brief discussion of my cat's peculiarities]

[Long winded update on some inconsequential anecdotal episode which involves something odd, like duct taped chickens]

[mention art]

[talk about upcoming calendar project and the anticipatory feelings associated with it]

[mention wedding]

[hint strongly that readers should buy prints from here: http://mercuralis.deviantart.com/store]

[mention art again]

[mention cat]

[vaguer promises to update soon that will not be kept. Mention that LJ subscription has run out, but not particularly missing it, due to not having anything worth writing about at the moment.]

[mention: http://www.bynkii.com/macgeek includes RSS feeds]

Miss you all,
Me

...meet someone and know, just out of the blue, that this is someone that you could "get."

That on some level you recognize yourself in this other person, or maybe you relate to their circumstances.

Maybe not 100%, maybe not even 50%, but... you KNOW them, or know someone like them, or maybe you've just known them in another lifetime, with a different name or a different face.

Maybe you've been friends all along, but just never met before?

It's not a romantic feeling, although it has some of those "at first sight" elements.

It's a gut reaction to a kindred spirit.

And maybe I'm wrong about a million things here. Maybe that gut instinct is wrong.

But I kind of hope... not.

I'm having a Nabokovian moment.

Best Birthday ever...

So yesterday was my birthday, and I spent most of the day sleeping in, playing SIMS2:Pets and just enjoying having bynkii around. :) Met up with my family, and sinfidel for dinner at Chili's and had a wonderful time. My sister gave me the funniest little Buddha desk organizer, and a copy of the very first season of the Muppet Show on DVD, and Sin gave me a gorgeous candle thing for my coffee table. My parents, however, came through with something I desperately needed: A new desk chair, cause the one I'm sitting in now is B.U.S.T.E.D. (in every sense of the word).

My most unexpected gift, however, came from a co-worker: she gave me and John two free comp passes to Disney. Now I haven't been to Disney in years. Not since college, I think... and possibly not since Grad Night back in '98. And I'd been jonesing for awhile now to go. So it was wonderful to go spend an incredibly beautiful day at the park. Our tickets were park hopper, but we just decided to take it slow, start at the Magic Kingdom, ride whatever we wanted and not try to schedule the day.

It was probably the best day I've ever spent at a theme park. We did all the rides I really wanted to do and a couple of bonuses: Space Mountain, the Speedway, Splash Mountain (got SOAKED), Haunted Mansion, and Pirates. Ate a lot, wandered a lot. Took a lot of photos. It was crowded but not insane. I don't think we waited more than an hour for anything, and even then the time went quick. There's something nice about being at the park with someone you love and can just spend time with. My feet didn't even hurt by the end of the day. And I totally got to try out the new digital camera I got for Christmas.

Left around 6:30 and decided we were hungry and wanted cuban food, so we went to Downtown Disney and had a delicious dinner at Bongo's. Then home. All in all, it was a really relaxing, beautiful, wonderful birthday.

The thing about Disney is, even when it changes, it's still the same. And at 27 I can still appreciate what made it so wonderful at 7. :) There's just something magic about it.


( You'll find more photos behind the cut-not for the faint of image loading speed:  )
:)

You know you're from Florida when:

You're writing a story that takes place on New Year's Eve, somewhere in New England, and you have characters walking about...

and you've utterly totally forgotten to dress them in jackets or gloves or snow shoes or hats, and you've forgotten to write the snow on the ground, or to tell the characters that it's cold as hell and they should really get their asses inside where it's warm because otherwise they might die of hypothermia.

There are limits to my fantasy world...

Hold, please, while I put the laundry in the wash.

...

There we go.

Five minutes ago, I swear I had things to say, and stuff to update. What do you know?

Mina (the Cat) is tearing around the apartment. She gallops full steam, sounding like a much larger creature. Every now and then I hear the galloping stop abruptly, followed by the sound of something falling to the floor and a surprised "Mrrrr?"

The other night I was confronted by my future at the local Walgreens. She was in her forties, perhaps, with red/blonde streaked hair to her waist, glittery eye makeup, and tinsel wrapped around her wrists. And totally crazy about her nine cats.

There are worse futures, I suppose. I could end up as president.

Everyone else tells stories about their cats, though, so I'm not about to spare you all. Sorry, chum, that's how it goes.

Mina, I've decided, is a Jellicle Cat. (She's black and white and rather small). She's also pretty much incapable of remaining still for very long, preferring, instead, to climb, run, sniff, and knock things over. She almost never uses her claws, which is wonderful. However, she does like to bite.

My mornings usually start off with a set of needlesharp teeth gently(sort of) clamping down on my foot. I shake her off, but within seconds, usually, she's back again.

Mina: I bite!
Me: NO.
Mina: I bite? Here? See?
Me: Go back to sleep.
Mina: HERE! I BITE!
Me: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP BITING ME!

This makes me inexplicably happy.

Speaking of... I'm visiting Bynkii for Thanksgiving, which also makes me very explicably happy. It's going to be a frigid 50+ degrees. My feet are already cold, just thinking about it.

The wedding preparations are coming along, (which seems to be the first question most people ask me, lately: "How's the wedding coming?"). Along. Swimmingly.

It's pretty much been decided that, in order to save money, sanity, and to give us a lot more freedom as to when and where and for how long, we'll be holding the wedding in my parents backyard. They've got a little pond on the back of the property, and a lot of room for the setting up of tents and things, and I'll have all the time I need to transform it into my own private fairy land.

Provided my father doesn't do so first. He's getting awfully enthusiastic about this whole thing, building docks and gazebos and planting all sorts of plants and trees and flowery things. In another month or so, it'll be time to start shopping for other things, but I'm enjoying the downtime, right now.

Work... work is fun. I switched job descriptions, if not precisely positions about two months ago, and am now full time in charge of graphic design. No more reading to the podlings. I very much enjoy it, but I have to say, honestly, the thing I'm enjoying most is finally working with people my own age a bit more, and not feeling useless.

It kinda makes your day, doesn't it?
That's me, in a nutshell...

how about you?