Sun and Wings, or, Stuff I Think About

We Anthropomorphize Things In My Family

Sat, 15 Jun 2013 16:26:23 -0400

My mother (to the computer): Why are you so slow?!
Me: Maybe it's called THAT COMPUTER IS TEN YEARS OLD.
My mother: No! I still love it.
Me: It's old!
My mother: It's like Moxie (our previous dog). It's old, but I appreciate all it's gone through.
Me: Just get a new computer!
My mother: No!
Me: That one is so old!
My mother: Just because something is old doesn't mean it doesn't have value. Remember Herbie the Love Bug!

Word snippet

Fri, 14 Jun 2013 04:48:56 -0400

You want stories? I’ll give you stories. The best ones are real, you know.

I’ll give you dragons dancing across a child’s mind, and dinosaurs, and the first smudges of a world being drawn out with markers.

I’ll give you a series of accidents and happenstances and misunderstandings and misreads that turn out in two hands twined together.

I’ll give you breaking and being lost and being alone in the darkness, and suddenly finding people, and blooming, and growing wings.

I’ll give you Subway sandwiches and wedding rings, words flickering across a screen, trumpets and dying geese, a soccer ball and mud puddles, lifetimes of dogs, a Bible with turquoise covers and kisses on a dark stage. I’ll give you windy days on Maui, robots, going through hell and high water all for a medal on a blue ribbon. I’ll give you families spread all across the world, and families made in the span of a summer. I’ll give you laughter and horrible, wracking sobs. I’ll give you hatred and the purest love you will ever find.

You want stories? I’ll give you stories. The best ones are real, you know.

Photo

Thu, 13 Jun 2013 17:28:47 -0400

Today I graduate high school. Other people’s lives are going on around me—one of the...

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 19:03:29 -0400

Today I graduate high school.

Other people’s lives are going on around me—one of the people I follow posts about food-related memories, another a picture of an old man. There are protests on the other side of the world happening. Babies are being born. Somewhere, somehow, someone will be creating a masterpiece.

Today I graduate high school, and for a moment I will be the most important thing on that stage, in this life, in the world. Because when you’re stepping from one piece of life to the next, you are always the most important thing in your sphere of awareness.

Today I graduate high school, and I am insignificant in the face of the cosmos.

Today I graduate high school, and I will try not to cry, and I might cry anyway, and I will laugh and hug and try to hold on to all of you as tightly as I can. I will be terrified. I will be exhilarated. I can’t wait to move on, and I am so scared of what might happen.

Today I graduate high school, and I have no idea what to wear under the gown that makes me look like a walking garbage bag. There will be an utterly ridiculous-looking cap on my head. I’ll be too busy cackling to cry for part of the day.

Here comes a major milestone in my life, and to celebrate it I ate a donut for breakfast.

Today I graduate high school. Wish me luck.

I am no one’s servant. ~ Sometimes a...

Wed, 05 Jun 2013 21:31:32 -0400

I am no one’s servant.

Sometimes a little exercise turns into something you really, really like. I had originally drawn this just to ideate my character’s mechanical arm, and then started messing around with line-shading before getting a tad carried away.

I really like the effect; might try doing this on my next profile pic. There’s a couple anatomical issues in there, but I am too busy being pleased at the overall package to worry about them at the moment. Things to fix next time rather than revise now, basically.

This character. She is just too much fun to draw.

Poking at Futures

Wed, 05 Jun 2013 03:30:18 -0400

She trips out onto the sidewalk, stumbling once, twice in the wake of her headlong rush down the stairs. There’s the vague thought that she’s forgotten shoes, and her bare toes curl on the cool concrete. Another, vaguer thought is spared to the sun beating down across bare shoulders, and she shades her eyes with a hand, staring down the street.

Anticipation, butterflies, a nervous smile stretching itself across her lips. She shifts her weight, blinks twice against the glare. Shifts her weight again, smile stretching wider in spite of the sudden shyness nestling itself in her chest. The bus pulls up, and she exhales slowly. There you are.

Two steps forwards, hand waving. She rocks back and forth, sticking her hands in her pockets, ducking her head. Small shrug of shoulders, and there it is—a grin, anxiousness and a giddy rush of happiness mingling together as she looks up.

“Hey, you.”

This made me think of one of my friends. Personally, I’m a...

Sun, 02 Jun 2013 15:13:22 -0400

This made me think of one of my friends. Personally, I’m a happy 5’ 6.5”, and it’s likely that I’m going to stay that height all of my life. Makes it easier on airplane rides!

lets do a thing. reblog and add your city and country. if it's already there, don't add it again. lets take a look at tumblr's diversity

Thu, 23 May 2013 01:03:06 -0400

Shanghai, China
Pisa, Italy
Longkou, China
Brisbane, Australia
University Place, USA
Salamanca, Spain
Cambridge, England
London, England
Siuntio, Finland
Edinburg, USA
Huddersfield, England
Rendsburg, Germany
Cardiff, Wales
Bridgeport,USA
Groningen, The Netherlands
Cody, USA
Antwerp, Belgium
Greenville, USA
Great Falls, USA
Ghent, Belgium
Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina
St.John's, Canada
Bourgas,Bulgaria
Terneuzen, The Netherlands
Berlin, Germany
Frankfurt/ Main, Germany
Brescia, Italy
Enschede, The Netherlands
Doetinchem, The Netherlands
Florence, Italy
Northampton, England
Norwich, England
Bloomington (IL), USA
Baton Rouge, USA
Charleston, WV, USA
Staten Island, NY, USA
Atlanta, GA, USA
Montreal, Canada
Jacksonville, USA
Baltimore, USA
Tauranga, New Zealand
Oakville, ON, Canada
Anaheim, CA, USA
El Monte, CA, USA
Phoenix, AZ, USA
San Diego, CA, USA
Tacoma, WA, USA
Gig Harbor, USA
Seattle, USA

“‘We Have Always Fought’: Challenging the ‘Women, Cattle and Slaves’ Narrative” by Kameron Hurley â A Dribble of Ink

Thu, 23 May 2013 00:36:33 -0400

“‘We Have Always Fought’: Challenging the ‘Women, Cattle and Slaves’ Narrative” by Kameron Hurley â A Dribble of Ink:

Iâm going to tell you a story about llamas. It will be like every other story youâve ever heard about llamas: how they are covered in fine scales; how they

Give it a read.

laliberty: Disaster Relief | American Red Cross The tornado...

Tue, 21 May 2013 01:01:47 -0400

laliberty:

Disaster Relief | American Red Cross

The tornado devastation in Oklahoma and surrounding areas is a horrific tragedy beyond words. At least 145 people reported injured with the death toll at 51, including 20 children.

Please give what you can to help those who need it.

Also consider Oklahoma Baptist Disaster Relief, Salvation Army, and United Way of Central Oklahoma.

Who am I? and What am I? are not necessarily the same things.

Mon, 20 May 2013 22:00:55 -0400

Who am I?

and

What am I?

are not necessarily the same things.

Designing some armor based off a dream I had. It’s...

Fri, 17 May 2013 15:27:15 -0400

Designing some armor based off a dream I had. It’s basically a FIRST FRC competition mashed up with the Hunger Games, and it makes exactly as much sense as it sounds (which is to say not all that much). Armor is fun to play with, though.

The Hawkeye Initiative: Special Guest Edition: The Hawkeye Initiative IRL!

Wed, 15 May 2013 00:18:22 -0400

The Hawkeye Initiative: Special Guest Edition: The Hawkeye Initiative IRL!:

gingerhaze:

thehawkeyeinitiative:

I recently received an email from an anonymous fan sharing how she pulled a Hawkeye Initiative themed prank on her CEO to illustrate a problem with some artwork.
My personal compliments to her and her accomplice on a mission well done; they perfectly took they perfectly took the concept of The…

This is MAGNIFICENT and HILARIOUS.

This is entirely the best.

Playing with my squid-faces. I’m toying around with...

Mon, 13 May 2013 00:36:25 -0400

Playing with my squid-faces.

I’m toying around with different head shapes and ways to work with the lil’ feeler things. There’s a half-baked idea that the older an individual is, the more deedlybobs (I’m recovering from stomach flu, you’ll get the technical term later) they have on their feelers and wattles.

I’m also trying to figure out how their eating works. On one hand, I might give them a beak like an octopus; on the other, they may extrude acid/enzymes from barbs on their tongue and then slurp the whatever-it-was up like a smoothie.

Broke out my acrylics yesterday and did these. It’s been a...

Sun, 05 May 2013 17:12:59 -0400

Broke out my acrylics yesterday and did these. It’s been a long time since I’ve used traditional paint, and it shows. These are much less polished and controlled than any of my digital work. I’m pretty sure I messed up the faces a little.

That said, it felt really nice—much freer and more… what’s the word… visceral. I’m hoping to be able to get some GIANT PAPER and paints today to work with, but it’s looking a little doubtful—day’s sorta wasting and I need a parent to help me get to the art store.

THIS SUNDAY I AM DOING ART

Sat, 04 May 2013 02:08:04 -0400

Tomorrow I will stop by the U Bookstore and get butcher paper and cheap paint. And I will set up in my garage court with this on Sunday and just do art out in the sun. And it will be messy and amazing and not look very good but I will have done it.

This is happening.

Bone-swimming

Thu, 02 May 2013 02:48:49 -0400

There’s turning and twisting, over and under and through again—bones slick-sharp against flanks sliding smooth smooth smooth sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide like water. Run your hands along them—feel the muscles coiled under golden skin.

Swimming through an ocean of memories, blood, guts, gore, beautiful little daisies in the grass and children running through streets and catching you up by the hand by the waist twirling with you—there are flowers in your hair, and I can still remember the scent of them. Are you speaking—am I—eyes catch and hold. Look at you, you’re beautiful.

Still can remember how it feels when you bend down to listen to me, the warm puff of my breath against your neck and I can feel the soft heat of your skin against mine. Vibrating, waiting, here whisper whisper whisper.

I read the black ink splots across the pages. Feel the sharp burr of words against my fingerpads. Pages vanilla-hued and coiling, coiling around bodies of the same color coiling around the minds inside, the hands armed with clever fingers who can take apart everything if they only wanted to. There are stains of gold where she’s rubbed her head against them, like a cat wanting to be pet.

I wake from a dream where there’s a wash of auburn.

The lines that make up your body are glass-boned delicate things, they whisper snap shout. You’re breakable. Glass when shattered cuts. Do you want to test me?

The old refrain is tired and I do not yell it very loud. I go digging through black boxes for the data stored inside like the sweet flesh under a fruit’s skin. I will gorge myself upon memories until the juice runs down my chin to gild my throat with peach juice, and my fingers will be stained with blackberries.

Somewhere in there I find myself, and I take the unknown and wrap it up and hide it again for a rainy day. Somewhere in there I find you, and our fingers twist together in knots and I loop yarn around the open holes to make a blanket to keep us warm. Slivers of bone light up like candles and we hang them up to spite the moon. Who says it’s bedtime yet? Not the far-wanderers and the dreamers and the poor little fools.

Ten years from now I will quote Shakespeare across a room. This even-handed justice commends the ingredients of our poisoned chalice to our own lips. I want my nails to be painted red so I can slash the air to the words I am curling up out of my throat.

Feel the straightness in your limbs and then collapse around it because it is far too late to remember your initial beginnings. Coil back around and twist and transmute stretching stretching yearning my darling yearning—

—here are the wings and the thought-planes and the light gilding the morning. The bones are slick under our fingers, smooth to the touch, cool and hard and good to hold in the palm of your hand. They feel like something present. They feel like something to ground yourself. I fall backwards into their sea and sink into elanthium twilight with the morning star stretching out above, and we blot it out with the sunlight. The bones scatter shadow-patterns across the land.

Here are the dawnings and I will paint you with them.

Arrived in St. Louis today. How the heck can I be so tired from just a plane ride? All I want to do...

Wed, 24 Apr 2013 22:51:00 -0400

Arrived in St. Louis today. How the heck can I be so tired from just a plane ride? All I want to do is hide out in my room and draw. Thankfully, the fact that we have absolutely nothin’ to do means I could do just that.

Snippet of something

Wed, 24 Apr 2013 01:19:39 -0400

There’s an urge to write, to draw, to capture everything as it happens so we don’t lose it. Emotions are fleeting. Ephemeral. Here there going GONE and we’re scrambling to keep up again.

How do you keep ahold of a dream? How do you cradle a touch—a glance, a mere meeting of eyes—in the palm of your hand? Is there any way to sum up the warmth in your chest, the lightness of being, the simplicity of being there with another person, all your people, all your family the world humming in harmony for one beautiful instant—

I want to write you galaxies, I told him.

Because maybe one of them, one of those planets orbiting a star shining so brightly—maybe one of them will be able to sum everything up just so.

How do you capture emotion?

Short answer, she said: You don’t.

Tumbling through spatial awareness and staying up late. Grinning like an idiot on a train. Catching your mother by the hand, laughing up in her face, hugging brother and sister, whirling into your father for a good-bye kiss on your way out the door. Friends all around you in a puddle of snuggles and contentment. How do you keep ahold of this?

Because you want to try your very best. You don’t ever want to let go of these bits of joy. They’re beautiful, and you’ve always wanted to show beauty to your loved ones.