A Tragedy: The snow has melted.

I hope everyone's Christmas went well. This year it wasn't as busy for me, due to the fact that most people in the Portland metro area were stuck inside. In some areas we had snow drifts of up to 2 feet, I swear! In a way I was in love with it. It made the city beautiful, for once. None of that endless, gray concrete everywhere. The city looked natural, pure, and peaceful. I'm not meant to live in the city. I need trees surrounding me and wild animals. I need green everywhere and the sound of a creek or lake waves swishing against a bank. I've lived here pretty much all of my life.. Portland, you don't do it for me anymore. Now, Seattle would be my choice for a big city. I'll deal with the higher prices in order to get away from what's in Portland.

Anyway, my mother asked me what I got for Christmas and I simply replied, "books." My dad got me the amazing Harry Potter series book 1-7 so that I have them all! And Andrew got me the Inheritance series, all three, now I can indulge in childish fantasies for a whole year. Andrew's parents got me the book, War of The Worlds which is completely spot on in terms of my style of reading. Thank you! I'm satisfied and I love my family. :]

For my birthday I want a dog.. I know this will never fly but I can dream, can't I?



How about the stunning Weimaraner! Beautiful, smart, and active dogs, I might not be able to keep up with them.. But one day I will and I will have one. One day.


My next pick would be the German Shepherd. Intelligent, protective, and above all friendly. It could be what the German stands for but whenever I see one I get weak in the knees, so to speak. I act like a little girl who sees a puppy across the street. I squeal and stamp my feet because I can't handle my affection for this breed. Amazing dogs, and expensive. It would cost me about 2 months of my rent for a pure bred German Shepherd. I'll continue to dream..










Since I'm rambling about dogs I might as well show you the best dog in the world..



Spencer was my best companion. I can still remember so vividly how he smelled the first time I held him, like poop. I knew it was meant to be. I will miss this dog every day of my life, but I'm alright with that.. He'll never leave me in a way. I love you, Spencer. :]

Ready? Set.. Go..?

The other week I spent a day with my Dad in Camas, Washington. A subject that we talked about has me thinking: Children. I'm at that point in my life where my hormones and emotions are boiling over and yearning to nurture something. My cat is often hassled with overflowing kisses, hugs, and baby-talk as well as Andrew. I'm sorry! It's natural and I'm a Cancer. I'm doomed.

Anyway, I feel this overwhelming sense of guilt when I think of bringing a child into this world. I think of all the possible dangers and I'm scared to death. I can't live with something so fragile. I'd freak out every minute wondering if its healthy and safe. I'd have a heart attack when my child produces a cough or a sneeze, rushing frantically when he/she gets a cut or a burn.

Being a parent has to be the most challenging experience in the world. So much depends on you. To that child YOU are everything and I can't imagine the rewarding sensation of a child's love. Also, understanding that a child will create their own life; they will not live yours and your responsibility, as a parent, is to make sure that your child gets to that point safely with the proper knowledge to take care of themselves. I will never doom my child to live out my dreams and failures! I know the pain of disappointment and no one should have to deal with that everyday.

Why are people careless about parenting? Why is it not taking seriously by everyone? It's in our whole nature and biology to nurture, protect, teach, feed, and care for our young. Why are some children just objects and tools?

Basically, what brought this spew about was my brief (and gag-worthy) glimpse at a reality show on TLC called "17 Kids and Counting.." What. The. Fuck. I know religion plays a huge role in how painfully odd this family is, but isn't there a point where the human mind simply asks, "what the hell are you doing?" How can two people possibly give eighteen children the proper interaction, attention, love, and respect? Sure, they feel that "every child is a beautiful gift" but they are not objects or "gifts" from a higher being or whatnot. They are forever growing individuals who live and learn.. I am truly disgusted. :O

The Healer [story]

Continued from previous [story] post..



The stranger shot Zeb a stern look as the discovery entered his mind. Usually, William made sure to keep his identity unknown but his injury made his mind swell; survival outweighed sensible thinking at this point. People didn't take well to hunters, so naturally Zeb winced at the dagger and turned his gaze away from the solemn stranger.

The Healer appeared with a cloud of smoke in her wake, elegance came to mind when Zeb saw her. Her body was lithe-like and she moved with slow, graceful movements as if she had all the time in the world to do everything. Her presence was soothing and she seemed to radiate a cure for any troublesome emotion. Instantly, Zeb felt peaceful.

"William, dear boy.." Her voice was silky and it wrapped itself around William, causing him to look up and straighten his back, eyes alert. "Gently apply and sleep comfortably. It may take a few days." She handed William an envelope of birch tree bark, its contents seemed heavy but she handled it with ease.

"My thanks." William said as he showed his respects, turning without a glance at Zeb and walked out the door.

The Healer turned to Zeb and extended a whirl of smoke around him to comfort him. "Some things uncertain demand respect.." Her pale blue eyes pierced his mind. "Your friend is stuck in sleep?" She raised an eyebrow at his thoughts and extended her hand to a near chair. "Please, sit."

Collecting himself, Zeb took a seat and relief filled him. What a trick! This was his first experience with the healer and already he feared the next. In the next room the Healer was uncorking things, spitting; clanking things, whispering and singing? The process was alien to him and within minutes she returned with another birch bark envelope. "Gently, with a soft brush, dust her airway with this. Don't be hasty." Her voice flowed like silk into his ears.

"Yes. My thanks." He paid his respects and turned to the door, anxious to feel like himself again and to see Rainier. As he reached for the handle a voice filled his head, silky, smooth, and enchanting. She will never be the same. You will lose. Zeb winced and looked back only to see the Healer absorbed in her work. Clearly, he was hearing things.. He must hurry.

Friendships.

The grammar is a bit off. I was digging through my old computer and found this bit I wrote a few years ago. Friendships long gone but never forgotten. The photographs are some of my favorites. I miss that beautiful Minolta. I'll always remember my loves..
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I remember the days when we ran around wild and young, drinking down rusted whiskey from hidden cupboards, pills that were wrapped in candy coats. I remember laughing down pee stained streets, hiding from the sunlight to come alive at night with full force with our adolescent guns. The lights shown brightly on us while we danced together in a sweaty crowd; all eyes on us, you, my firefly.

I remember seeing you for the first time; opening your door to the world you called home. I danced with you through music notes in the air, and you taught me how to hold them in place with my fingers. We created music together and a friendship that blossomed to a love unlike any other. We drank from the dead and danced for the paralyzed, for we were their legs, and I was your vision. You were my heart and everything perfect in my world. We dug to the center of the world with our fingernails and you offered to clean the blood off my cheeks.

I remember when we saw the world together. -- Traveling from ancient Rome to the out skirts of the stars in the form of picture books. Sitting on my rooftop with a mug of hot cocoa to keep our fingertips warm in the rigid cold air; throwing Doritos chips down at the neighbor’s dog to shut them up. We beat our wrists together to the tune of infinity and friendship forever. My eyes were filled with your laughter and my gut filled with warming spirits.

I remember when nothing was too dangerous for us. Our fear tucked in the back of our throats, unable to leap out and stop us from crossing. They watched from behind as we skipped—hand in hand—fearless into the darkness before us. Together we saw beauty only most could dream of. I took a saw to our guts and pulled back and pushed forward. Nothing was too painful for the both of us. I remember when walking was our only way of transportation and by the time we ventured home—at 4 o’clock in the morning—our feet ache and stung of memories and stories to tell while we laid together in bed. We ate from plastic packets filled with candy that we stuffed in our purses just 3 hours ago. Our favorite drink was something green, showing us different images of reality on the bottleneck.

I remember the two of us kicking at each other on the floor, anxious to win the match. We kicked and pulled, screamed and laughed until our guts lay out before us. We swam in the stench and still everything was so beautiful. Your smile beaming in front of my eyes, and my comfort and heart in my hands for you to hold. You were my slut and I was your hag.

The Friend. [story]

Zeb:

He needed to take matters into his own hands. Rainier had been out of the forest, still asleep, for 23 hours. Her terrors had intensified when they brought her out. She whimpered and trembled and soaked everything in sweat. Zeb fought away the thoughts of her death. She couldn't. Not before he could love her properly. He reached out his hand and grabbed her balled-up fist. Love radiated from his hand, his eyes, his heart. How could she not know?

He needed to break her fever or she might.. No. He jumped out of his chair and ran down the hall-- into the front room to grab his jacket. His feet felt heavy and the house seemed to tilt with his steps. There was a slight smell of death spirits. He needed to hurry; he opened the door and began to run.

He reached his destination fairly quick, completely unsure of the time that had elapsed. Panting, he approached the house that was trying so hard to shut him out. The house had the feeling of swimming against a wave, but reluctantly he continued to the door and held out his hand to open the door.

Inside, smoke inhabited every possible free space. It drifted and danced around things. Each breath that he drew was full of emotion. The Alchemist's special blend.He was walking towards the back room when he saw a figure hunched over sitting in a chair. Smoke was swirling around him as if attracted to him, or curing him? His left hand was covered in blood and held his chest. Something had wounded him, Zeb noticed. He was around the same age as him, with dark matted hair that looked like it was once presentable. The stranger looked up at Zeb and narrowed his eyes. Dazed and confused he stood up and walked to a table near them. Zeb saw the dagger sheathed to his belt. A hunter.

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Continuing tomorrow. Must sleep. -_-

My Sunday With Lindsey.

Last Sunday I spent the day with a lovely lady, Lindsey Reeves, of Sleeper Photography. A few months ago she approached me at my work and asked if I wanted to model for her. Confusion. Denial. Me? She explained that she loved the whole over the top make-up and hair, and that I would be perfect. Confusion. Anxiety. She left me with her number and her website. Now I had the next move. It took me a month or two to get back to her, and I'm glad I did. What a lovely experience. I have never been the canvas for someone else's art. I have always been the artist! Such an odd feeling to have my world so upside down.



The dress was a beautiful vintage wedding/prom dress with a slight tie-dye of purple and blue. It had multiple tiers of lace cascading down the body, and a tiny and snug waist line. Oddly, it felt comforting to be so involved with a dress. It felt like another layer of skin. We ended up throwing the heels out and I got to keep my beat up converse on. They didn't end up making an appearance in the shots. :( Too bad.

My hair was an interesting sight. Lindsey put my original hair into multiple pony tails around my head, while stringing a wig piece through so they intertwined with the pony tails. You couldn't tell what was fake and what was real. And the feathers! My favorite accessory by far and a necessity for any and every dress up occasion.



Now for the make-up? No comment. I have no idea how she did it, but it was exquisite. I never realized how much knowledge and work goes into painting a face. I should have guessed, but the thought never really crossed my mind. I don't wear make-up except for the occasional mascara and powder. I wish I had a close-up picture of this beautiful make-up!

So we played around 2nd and Alder in Portland, next to a storage building. It's strangely beautiful how trashy and beat-up our setting was. Beautiful from my eyes.. The kind of eyes that don't have to see that everyday. It was beautiful because I didn't belong there.

It was easy to see and know what Lindsey was looking for with these shots, so I delivered them as best as I could. It's not really my type of photography. I'm a huge fan of limb movements and tweaking the body as a main focus. Like a twist on ballerinas with less background. It's hard to explain and if I ever get a new camera I'll make sure to work on a few things of my own.

All in all I had a lovely day full of wonder, giggles, praise, and awe. It made me want to pick up a camera again. :]

Sleeperphoto.com

Lastly: I plan to continue with my story after my injury has calmed down. Sitting at the computer for a long period of time is intense. I'll give myself a couple more days..

The Castings Trilogy

I am in awe, simply put. I have never read anything so captivating and magical. His Dark Materials trilogy has reined supreme in my eyes ever since I was seventeen. I was glued to them. I even walked a mile in the snow while reading The Subtle Knife. I've read each book at least 5+ times and William Parry is by far the greatest character ever created.. Until now..



Pamela Freeman's The Castings trilogy has taken the #1 spot in my favorites thus far. (I'm dying to read the final book but it's not due until next September! The pain of waiting!) I'm still in shock at how intricate the storyline is and how amazingly perfect her characters are. They are too well rounded and I feel like I can walk out of my front door and search for them, as if they exist in flesh and blood. All in all the perfect indulgence of Fantasy, intelligence, violence, politics, and memorable characters. I'm in love.