And now for something completely different

Pre-crazy processing this photo was going to be a part of the last outfit post, but it took on a life of it's own and became something that's a little outside my usual style. As I'm trying to build towards accomplishing a long term goal, I have a tendency to plan everything I create in accordance with that goal, in other words everything I make has to bring me closer to that goal. This picture was an important reminder that sometimes you just need to create and see what happens. It may not fit in with your current style, you may not even like it in the end but it is still very significant and you need to pay attention to what it's saying to you.

Newest additions

This one was the first brave soul out of the nesting box

One of and possibly the only good thing about being stuck sick in the house all week has been being able to watch as these little guys finally left the nest. When I was growing up I had a finch that lived forever, way past the life expectancy for finches. My mom had been saying that she missed having a little birds in the house, so I got her three for her birthday back in October. Well three turned into four and four turned into seven a few weeks ago when three eggs hatched. I didn't want to mention the hatchlings until their survival seemed guaranteed. The first couple of weeks of a zebra finch hatchling's life are very delicate. They're often rejected by their parents and thrown out of the nest. Some people try to hand feed them, but they are sooo tiny when they're first born it's easy to feed them too much and they can aspirate on the food. But these little boogers were very well cared for by both parents, but mostly by their father. The male bird did most of the feeding after they hatched and did at least half of the egg sitting before they hatched. Now they have their own little flock.

Right now the hatchlings are all grey, but eventually their beaks will turn orange. The males will get bright orange feathers on their cheeks, stripes on their chests, and spots under their wings while the females will remain mostly grey except for their beaks.

When they were first born they were the ugliest little alien creatures, greyish-pink and completely featherless with eyes that bulged out of their heads. Now they're kind of cute, but still really clumsy. They keep falling off perches and flying into each other. All part of the learning process I guess.

Once they're a little bigger I think the nest box will come out. Seven is definitely enough for now.

These two are still not so sure about the whole thing.

A peek into one of the areas in my home where I get some work done. In addition to bill paying and application organizing, my desk is where most of the blog posting, photo editing, and sketching happens.   I made sure to make it pretty before I took the picture, it's not usually this organized. 

The top photo is a shot of the wall next to my desk. I guess it's my "inspiration board" but I kind of hate that phrase so let's call it the wall of stuff I like to look at. The work above the desk is my own. I like to have it around to keep me focused on whatever project I'm currently working on and so I can over analyze it obsessively and figure out what to improve on for my next piece. And yes, those are two doll heads on that pile of books, they are my creepy desk companions.

Ugh

And here it is. The only decent shot I got on what was supposed to be a quick day trip to the coast and turned into a 24 hour debacle. I guess the story starts with the fact that February has been a rough month for me. February always seems to be rough, actually. I don't if it's because everybodies cranky from having to wear 12 layers of clothes between thier skin and the sun for several months or what, but I dread February every year. This February I've been struggling with overwhemling feelings and fears of failure as well as financial and employment problems. Usually a trip to the mountains or the coast helps put things in perspective for me, a mini vacation from my own over active brain. But this trip was not destined to be the pick me up I needed.

I woke up feeling a little less than fresh and my mom asked if I wanted to cancel for another day. But, despite feeling a little under the weather, I decided that the mental health benefits would outweigh the slight physical discomforts. We packed my camera, some snacks, and of course cell phones and wallets. I decided to wear my wool coat instead of my water proof coat because it's warmer and at the last second threw some gloves and a hat into my backpack just in case.

Once on the road, it rained the whole two and a half hours it took up to get there. It's February in the Pacific Northwest so of course it was raining, but this wasn't typical misty Northwest rain. It poured, there was intermittent hail, and the wind was so strong it yanked the wheel away from my mom a couple times, causing the car to swerve. But we were hopeful and determined and we made it all the way out to our destination. Originally we had planned on walking a two mile trail along some dunes from an observation tower to a light house. We got out of the car and ran up the observation tower, which was open on the sides but covered on top. It was so windy the rain was coming down sideways and whipping through the tower. The wind was so strong that it was making the metal grating hum and vibrate. Needless to say I snapped a couple pictures and ran back to the car, but not before getting absolutly soaked. I was beginning to regret wearing the wool coat and not the waterproof one.

And this is where our quick trip to the caost turned into one of the most frustrating 24 hours of my life.
Once we got back to the car it wouldn't start. Annoying right? But it happens to all of us at some point. My mom called roadside assistance and they told her someone would be there in an hour. We ran out in the rain to the little town we drove through to get there because we had been in a car for two and a half hours after all and I was feeling under the weather and therefore trying to stay hydrated and you get the point. Almost everything was closed except for one little knick knack/ quilt shop, which made my mom happy. She bought some fabric and we used the facilities and headed back to the car thinking we just had to wait a little while longer. That was at three o'clock. Fast forward through increasingly hostile phone calls over the course of three and a half hours and the tow truck driver finally showed up.

The next two hours were spent in the freezing cold cab of the tow truck as it went 35 mph down the highway. Next thing we knew the tow truck driver was telling us the truck wasn't going to make it up the hill outside Olympia so they had to put our car on a new truck while we stood in the pouring rain. They switched trucks at some country store with two gas pumps and an outhouse in the parking lot in the middle of nowhere with no cell phone reception, and they were going to leave us there. Needless to say that was not an acceptable plan so the first tow truck driver told us he would drive us into town while the other one drove our car to the dealership, with the promise that their boss "knew some places to get a rental" and he would call once he found something. Well, "into town" meant a 7-11 off the highway where the driver promptly and unceremoniously abandoned us with no way to get anywhere and no idea where we were. And you've probably already guessed that the boss never managed to call us back once his drivers where rid of us. All I can say is thank the lord for smart phones. I don't know what we would have done without my mom's blackberry.

We ended up finding a hotel for the night and walking through the pouring, freezing rain again to the car dealership in the morning to find out that they don't service cars on the weekend. That there wouldn't be anybody to work on the car until Tuesday because of the holiday weekend. I'm proud of both my mom and myself because at this point one of us should have just started screaming, throwing things and smashing windows while the other curled up in the fetal position on the floor and started sobbing. But we held it together and managed to get a rental car and eventually we finally made it home after 24 hours.

Now, if you remember back to the beginning of this story I said I woke up feeling under the weather. Spending three and a half hours soaking wet in a car with no heat, then two more hours in a tow truck cab with no heat, then walking through the pouring rain for a mile the next day did not make me feel any better. Since the weekend I've been laid out with a really bad chest cold and a cough that sounds like my lungs are coming loose, and I, like many people in America, can't afford health insurance. On top of everything, having to fork out money for a hotel room and a rental car, my mom found out yesterday it's going to cost $1,000 to fix the car and that's money we just don't have. I just want to cry for days. I don't know what to do. Sorry to be so depressing, but I needed to let it out somewhere and hopefully once I've written it all down and gotten it out of my head I can get on with trying to figure out what to do next. One thing I am very thankful for is that even though it is a very stressful time, nobody was physically hurt or in danger, and I have a very good friend who was willing to go to my house and feed my poor dog after I called her at 10:00 pm.

Send Help! and a snow plow

It has been snowing here everyday for a week. I don't have any poetic thoughts to write about the snow. At this point I just want it to stop. I'm not a huge fan of snow to begin with, and this is just ridiculous. I took these photos in my neighborhood a couple of days ago when I went on a walk to the grocery store. I didn't really need anything there but it's the only thing within walking distance and I needed to look at something other than the inside of my house. One good thing came out of it though, these photos made me realize how huge the trees in my neighborhood are. That's one of the wonderful things about living in Seattle, where else can you get trees like that and still live within the city limits?

Woefully Neglected

A head full of stress and a body exhausted. A new job brought with it questions of where my life is going and where I want it to be going. Mundane crises and existential questions. All is still open ended, but it is clear that creating and creativity must remain in my life.

9.2%*

(Insert cheesy stock photo of stressed out office worker here)

I really hate it when bloggers apologize for random absences from the internet, but... I apologize for my random absence from the internet lately. My life is in flux right now to say the least. After working in a pool for a year as a swim instructor and contracting pink eye three times, a chronic sinus infection that was so bad at one point I could not smell, taste, or hear anything out of my left ear, losing my voice more times than I can count, a very painful cracked rib, and learning from my doctor that I was suffering the effects of chlorine poisoning, I finally put in my notice. At the end of September I will be officially unemployed. Originally I thought I would be starting in a photography program this fall, but that fell through because I couldn't afford the ridiculous equipment list. So, I am the typical mixture of terrified and exhilarated at the prospect of something as yet unknown beginning in my life. I am choosing to be go against my inate view of life, which tends to veer towards the pessimistic, and stubbornly sticking to positivity.

Most of my time now is spent re-writing my resume 20 different ways and applying for jobs. I'm trying to narrow my search to something that will lead somewhere (especially if that somewhere is earning a livable wage. Wouldn't that be nice?) So it's all kind of boring and stressful. But this job search has a greater sense of determination than I've ever had before, and despite looming unemployment I feel good about what's coming. We'll see if my tune changes as the end of September approaches.

*The title of this post refers to the current unemployment rate for Washington state. Kind of depressing.

The dog named Fluffy who isn't very fluffy

I didn't mean to take a week off from the blog, but sometimes things happen in real life that have to be dealt with. Blech. Believe me, I would rather be editing photos and writing posts for the blog than what I've been doing for the last week. Maybe I'll bore you with what's been going on a little later, but for now I'll focus on the good things in my life. You know, the little things that keep you sane when what you really want to do is run away and change your name so no one can find you. So let me introduce you to Fluffy.

I don't want to be one of those people that goes on and on about how their pets are their "children" because, no. But, I do love my Fluffy dog. When I was growing up we never had dogs or cats, the occasional bird or fish sometimes, but nothing that wasn't kept contained. When I was away at college my mom started having problems with a creeper outside the house. The police were supremely unhelpful and their only advice was to move or get a dog. After much debate and consideration, my mom and my sister went to the Humane Society to look at dogs. As they walked by the kennels all the dogs were jumping and barking, except for one who was quietly standing on her hind legs, almost like she was dancing. When you're considering a dog for adoption they put you in a room and let the dog in to see if it's a compatible match. Before they let the dancing dog in the room with my mom and my sister, they were told they shouldn't be disappointed if this dog didn't warm up to them, that she had been there for over six months and was very skittish around people. When the dog was let into the room, she sniffed around, went over to my mom, who was sitting on the floor, and promptly tried to climb into her lap. That sealed the deal, she decided she was ours.

She came with the name. I don't know why she was named Fluffy because she isn't. A bunch of people tried to tell us we should change it, but it seemed kind of mean. She knows her name and she didn't need any more confusion when she was trying to settle into a new home with new people. Plus, it fits in with our family's sense of humor. A Fluffy dog who isn't fluffy fits in perfectly with us.

These photos were taken when she was wrapped up in her favorite ratty pink blanket. She loves that blanket. When she's cold or tired, she loves to be wrapped up in it and fall asleep in a little ball. She even sticks her nose in so only her ears hang out.

When I took these photos she must have been very tired because most of the time if you get anywhere near her (with or without a camera) she wakes up so she can lick you to death. Which is why I love her. Even when I'm stressed out, even when I'm in a bad mood and I've managed to alienate everyone else, this silly little dog doesn't care, all she wants to do is lick me to death.

The End of an Era

I don't know about all you other creative types out there, but I get very attached to my sketchbooks. I usually have about five going at once, each for different thought processes. I am overprotective of them and highly selective in terms of who gets to see what's inside them. Overdramatic, I know. I can't help it.

The other day I filled the last page of my "inspiration" sketchbook. I know nobody else really cares, but it's kind of a big deal for me because I started this one my first year of art school. It's been with me for seven years now. I started it as a place to collect images and articles I found that fascinated me for whatever reason. There's political articles, pages from fashion magazines, pages from National Geographic, gum wrappers, museum brochures, and a whole bunch of other random stuff. But the thing is, when it's all viewed together it doesn't seem like random stuff anymore (not to me at least). I start to see a certain style or a certain view emerge, a style and view that is uniquely mine. In the last seven years I cannot tell you how much I have changed as a person and all the wonderful and awful experiences I have been through and this overstuffed sketchbook has been there through it all. Excuse me while I get a little teary eyed.