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Fin.

It's when I close my eyes that I may see more clearly,
and the glow of a screen detracts from that severely.

So an open tomb, wound, womb
for future reflection
only now smells of misdirection

Hairtears.

OMG, jobhunt, OMG. A jillion good prospects popped up today (this equates to about five openings that I would really like to work), and for some reason my drawing abilities are suddenly trash. Perseverance is key.

Also, why the fuck can't I read more than about 12 current friend LJ entries? Is this a bandwith issue that I have been too far absent on livejournal to notice? What a pain in the ass.

There may be more later. I may just have to move back to livejournal. Maybe. I just need all my internet joys simplified, and the best way to do that is be picky. Wordpress or Blogger. Livejournal or Codexed. I feel like a girl trying to pick her prom dress. Frantic, indecisive, and maybe a little bitchy.

Man, there is so much more going on in my life than this. But sometimes you just want a corner to spew unpoetically.
Meg Whitman, you useless cunt; I already thought you sucked, but goddamn you Ebay megamonster governor wannabe—how can you send me your campaign flyers, that are bilingual in a language even my mother can't understand?

Sheesh, at least make your committee do some proper fucking research.
I can feel my blood boil. Sometimes spending so much of your life investing in something you believe in, only to realize you can only ride on a belief so far. The most disturbing situation is to separate this belief from knowledge—there is a gray area there, and that's where the danger lies.

On the homefront...

I went to Stitches West, and wish I had arrived earlier! 2 hours was only enough time to look over a third of the booths, if I remember correctly. It is definitely worth browsing for a $6-$8 entry fee, and I was amazed at the array of beautiful yarn and fiber and patterns. Much of it very inspiring, and many places I'd never even heard of are definitely on my list of future purchases (if far future at this point).

The best part of being there was being able to see the work of other people, designers, knitted up. Gave me some great ideas, and I've been starting to lean into playing with color a little more, and seeing all the shawls and socks and mittens and sweaters gave me so many ideas, even for incorporating into my little animals. And to be able to actually touch fiber that I've only seen online. And ogle the spinning wheels and weaving looms that I one day want fixed in my home...ah.

I briefly met Krista of Pigeonroof Studios and had to pick up a 4oz braid of Blissful silk/merino. I've seen some amazing yarns and finished items from her fiber, and couldn't help myself. Gorgeous golds and purples and browns. I decided to start spinning it up immediately, since I've only been practicing on samples. Samples are great, but by the time I figure out how to work with the fiber best, it's already all spun up. I reconciled with my Schact Hi-Lo spindle. I think we're friends now.

Also picked up these gorgeous variegated, marled laceweights from Yarn Place from Arizona.

Anyway. Back to all of that. There are many things of yarn to complete, and still 2lbs of this to sort and wash and spin:

Jan. 27th, 2010

I live! Somewhere.

I guess there is nothing to report. I've been pining after a niddy noddy lately, now that I've started spinning with a bit more fervor, but to choose an appropriate size (that would accommodate copious amounts of yarn in the future and little now) has finally led me to decide on the homemade PVC version. I do love a hand-turned, wooden, heirloom-quality item, but the budget interferes. Plus I can choose a different size depending on the amount of yarn, which is minimal right now. And I love making things.

Anyway. Life is the bounce of employment and unemployment and odd jobs. Part of me really wants to return to school to brush up and improve my knowledge of Adobe programs. Or more so than I know now. The other part of me is leaning towards Lynda.com, but I love a classroom environment. It makes me more productive. On the other hand, with computer programs and related programming, it is so easy to pick up and learn it when you really want to. For free, off the internet.

Devoting more of my time, now that much of it is free, to cranking out a slew of amigurumi and other knitted/crocheted items for selling on Etsy. Trying to make a living off of it. Print collateral like cards and stationery are also on the list. I love print media, and designing it. It's unfortunate the corporate marketplace for this is low on the hiring end of the list. But independently it's a pretty promising market. I'll see.

Photos of products and hopefully touching up and making my website tolerable, if not what I want exactly yet. It needs a huge update, as it is.

Being on the poor ends has increased my cooking turnout—not that I don't love cooking and do it often, anyway, but finding those ingredients for a delicious, long-lasting recipe has increased. I love homemade chicken and dumplings and baked bread, anyway. So much better than store bought.

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Put a penny in the pot.



C'mon, kiddos, what's the worse that could happen...

Everywhere I look is an open road.

Whenever I travel, if for over a week
whether on foot or by thumb or by car, train, or plane
I remember the pull of technology's weak
and playing on computer's are a waste of my brain

A strange endless cycle I'm going to break
a trail of breadcrumbs to leave in my wake

Not hiatus, no, but other places to see
and things to do, and places to pee...

I think I'm going to throw up...

It's like a train wreck, right? I'm horrified, but I can't look away . . .

Rites of Summer, Rambling

There are no more rats in my life.

Kingdok, glorious Kingdok, saw her final day yesterday. She gasped quietly to death. She was two and a half years, not bad.

What makes it so remarkable, I suppose, is I've had her since she was barely weaned (or not even weaned, yet), that she survived accidentally getting squished between the coils of the couch seat and its headboard, lived to see roommates come and go, and not die of a horrible, tumorous death, or given away. And, at least for a good long while, she'll be the last.

My rat history is convoluted and full of the joys of companionship and learning to communicate with a new species (my rats were particularly patient), and the horrors of learning certain things the hard way, from ignorance. I've a lot of rat deaths on my hands, three from sheer stupidity and others from things I couldn't understand or control. And more rats I've had to give up due to not having a home and other reasons which are reasons nonetheless, but to me there's never a good reason to give up your pets that doesn't carry guilt, anyway. I wouldn't do it to a child, as far as I know, and a pet is no different. (Except where a pet is considered a "son" or "daughter" or "fur child"...this nomenclature I won't abide. Because they're not my sons or daughters, and I sure as hell am not their mother.)

Kingdok and I have been through a lot together, traveled across the states (legally), and in the last few weeks she was suffering from diarrhea and it was hard recovery for her. She was going strong and adventurous right till that moment, so I couldn't really say it was old age that got to her, but probably made it hard as hell for her to fully pull herself back together. I can't say she was my favorite rat, but she did mean a lot more to me if only because she spent her entire life with me.

So her body sits in the freezer, waiting for me to get a shovel and bury her. In a year, I'll be cleaning up her bones. I had a brief flight of fancy to have her mounted, possibly with a little bindle stick slung over her shoulder, but as much as I like looking at little taxidermy creatures, it seems pretty crude not to put the body back to ground, especially for my pet. (Along the way I found this, which fucking creeps me out.)

The only thing about burying Kingdok's body in our yard, especially the front which is most prime, is that the neighborhood cats have taken to using it as their litterbox. Now I like cats as much as any other feline lover, and I know animals outside will defecate outside, but it's starting to drive me crazy, seeing flies and smelling shit every day when I walk outside. Fresh shit is bad because it stinks and attracts bugs; old shit is worse because I won't realize Pavlov is sniffing at it and eating it until it's too late. I suspect the neighboring raccoons have also been participating in this activity.

Now aside from worrying that they're going to dig her up, I also have to watch where I step...and dig.

Mourning aside, I've spent the entire day cleaning out and reorganizing this little apartment of ours thoroughly (and I mean thoroughly—I started at 8am and am just taking my first break), and the worst part of it is the dust. Which is great for my asthma. Oakland, I've discovered since moving in, is the capitol of dust collection. It doesn't matter how anal you are, it will collect, and continue to collect. You're kind of fucked if you have a mammal for a pet, too. I don't think my mother would survive two days here.

I've just discovered exactly how much yarn I have. And I would never call it too much yarn, but, well, it's a bit. I need to reorganize it, and I need some kind of organizer(s) for my needles and hooks. Which is really an excuse to use this coupon I have at the local fabric store and sew up some needle holders in exciting prints. Or plain canvas I can paint. O-ooor I could use some of this fabric that's been lying around that I'd saved from my grandmother's stash, but I've been wracking my brain over what to make out of their crazy patterns.

There is also this comic I'm working on, and it is progressing, if not infinitely slower than I'd like. At least it is progressing, though, which is better than nothing for me. I need to really, really figure out how to let go of this horrible perfectionist grip I have on myself that deprives me of production.

Work and the job market, I'm not even going to go into. Suffice to say I'm steadily searching, and I still have two weeks left before I really need to worry.

My sister gets married next Saturday.

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