Thrift Store Fu

Sunday, 30 January 2011 01:09 pm
mutantenemy: (misc::gempunk)
Earlier this month a friend and I felt like treasure hunting. Cash was low, but our sense of adventure was high, so we decided to hit some of the local thrift marts to search of hidden and forgotten treasures.

My friend possesses fierce Thrift Store Fu. Every time he goes he finds jackets, pants, shirts, picture frames, and anything rustic that he can polish up into a new inventive creation. All of this for under $20.

I hate him.

Fortunately during our outing, some of his thrifty mo-jo rubbed off on me. Per usual he discovered cool little chests, a pair of Doc Marten boots, and a nifty bag. I was thrilled enough to find another men's down vest in black (men's vests have better, deeper, and more practical pockets), an old style taper candle holder, an actual Chinese to English/English to Chinese Dictionary from China (for 50 cents!), and then this beauty.

Behold.



That is a U.S. Navy / Marine Intermediate G-1 Flyer Jacket. All leather and in amazing condition. When I first saw it on the rack, I zipped right by it, not even registering on my radar as I was hardcore intent on finding a black leather jacket. Funny how the universe works, eh?

I was about ready to give up when a little voice in my head said, "Oooo, a brown jacket. You like brown." I do. Very vintage and steampunky. Okay, I'll give it a go. It was a men's 44 and I was sure it would be too big for me. Nope. It slipped onto my 5'11" just fine, thank you very much. And the style? Well, my friend and other customers could attest, I look damn good in a fighter pilot jacket. Like I was made for it.

The old street mission we were at was having a 50% off everything sale. For $12.50 I thought, what a steal, my first true leather jacket. Then, out of curiosity, I checked the label.



"That is a military issued label," said my friend. We gave the jacket a closer inspection and discovered air vents under the armpits and "USN" hole punched into the wind flap of the lapel. This was not some knock off or a Top Gun wannabe. This was legitimate. A pilot once owned this jacket.

Sold.

When I got it home I scowered the intertubz looking for any information I could find on the G-1 jacket. I checked out photos and labels. I learned that there were dozens of manufacturers over the decades that had military contracts to make these jackets. I also learned my label was missing one crucial element.

Every label shows four things:
Type of jacket
Military parts / BIN number
Company that made it
Year it was made

My label had everything but the year. After a few hours of investigative work, I deduced mine was mid-to-late 70's. Granted, not WWII era, but very cool nonetheless. I finally found a military antique expert on line and gave them pictures of my bomber jacket. They confirmed it was legit and that it was post Vietnam war era, circa 1975-1979. Maybe even as late as 1980.





I love that I found this find. I love that I cherishly wear a piece of history every day. Sometimes my thoughts wander to the previous owner. Why did he give up his jacket? There is no such thing as an ex-Marine, so why would he part with something that was an important part of him during his training / tour of duty?

I can only come to two conclusions:
1. It is a part of his life he truly wants to forget or wants to move on from.
2. He died.

I'm hoping for the former because it would be cool for a man to approach me someday and say, "Hey, I think that used to be mine. Oh, the stories I could tell!" And I would ask him to tell me.
mutantenemy: (seasonal::stripey baubles)
Two hummingbirds are dog-fighting outside my bedroom window. Chasing. Zipping. Dodging. All for the love of a ruby red, plastic feeder and who can lay proprietary claim. Observing those itty bitty Kamikaze birds made me realize that is pretty much how the past month has been for me.

Doing this. Adding that. Doing that other thing again. Standing on my head while drinking coffee just so the caffeine could percolate my brain cells faster. Pop! Pop! Zang! But as with everything, the crash had to come. And it did. And I still won.



I am not without pride to say I am five for five; five years of participating in National Novel Writing Month and having five WINNER certificates to show for it. This is an awesome accomplishment for me as I pat myself on the back and indulge with a congratulatory bottle of something sparkly and fizzy.

I say this because, well, I am a Procrastinating Fool. If I can put something off to the last micro second, knowing I can get away with it, I will. I am also easily distract.....

HUMMINGBIRDS ARE BACK!

......ed. A new creative idea, a new toy, a new project will lure me away with it's seductive shiny from my current goal at hand. Yet, on the ironic side, once I set my intent on something, it gets done, but only after I wade through the tides of "I'll Work On It Tomorrow" and dodge the traps of comfy laziness.

This year's NaNo almost kicked my ass. The long hours at work fried my poor, little brain and when I insisted it pound out 1,000 words before bedtime, it whined. So some coaxing was involved before my brain complied with a grump and a harrumph. Fortunately there were these amazing inventions called "weekends" where I was able to rest up and pour out 1,000's of words so I could catch up. To my surprise, Thanksgiving weekend bore me over 23,000 words and it was that final push, that last gasping sprint which propelled me across the finish line into a 51,230 word story. My tale was done and I performed a celebratory lap to the nearest Red Robin for a Cadillac Margarita.

So. One would think after spending four weeks struggling with words and timetables and self-pressure to achieve a personal goal, that the month of December would be a wonderful, peaceful reprieve. Well, you know what they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.....

Which brings me to my next point.

National Novel Reading Month

By all that is holy and strange, what have I gotten myself into? Again? From December 15, 2010 to January 15, 2011 the goal is to read one novel a week, which depending on the book can average 50-100 pages read a day. Well, one can argue that I am a glutton for punishment or insane, but I honestly want to read more. I enjoy reading, it just gets put on the back, back, far back burner located in BF Egypt. Remember the Shiny Factor? Yeah. I am horribly guilty of starting one book, finding another I wish to read, set aside Book#1 to make time for Book#2, then I find a Book#3. Wash, rinse, repeat cycle. The towering stack of tomes by my bed is damn impressive.

Because of this, it is difficult for me to finish. Earlier this year, I had set a new personal record by reading (AND finishing) five novels within six months: Silver Borne by Patricia Briggs, Boneshaker by Cherie Priest, Demon Hunts by C.E. Murphy, FEED by Mira Grant, and Eat, Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. All of them spectacular in their own right, but if I had to recommend one that truly blew my Malabrigo Yarn socks off, it would be FEED. Gift it. Enable others. I personally love being in a bookstore and then happening upon a lone shopper staring blankly at the Horror section. I simply walk up, take the book off the shelf, hand it to them with a sly smile and say, "Highly recommend it." And before they can utter a response, I walk away like the Ghost of Unknown Awesome Books never to be seen by them again.

Back to the books. For National Novel Reading Month I have made my four selections. It was difficult but I was able to narrow it down by allowing myself one criteria:

Read a novel by an author you have never read before.

Out went the Gaiman, the Briggs, the Murphy, the Harris, the Adams, and the King. In came, in a rather sauntering fashion, these titles:

This is the book that I have picked up off the shelf, put back, picked up again, put back, then finally bought because the time was finally right. Think Harry Potter going to college and add more witt, more scares, and an author's delicious and odd use of the English language. I am one chapter in and hooked.



This one has been sitting on the shelves of my personal library for about two years. I always mean to read it but never got around to it. Now is the time and I will do my best to not allow the musical to taint my expectations of the book as many folks have informed me they are different creatures.



I do not do a lot of Young Adult (Harry Potter notwithstanding), but when I heard from friends, "You love Buffy! This series is amazing and has a very strong heroine." Okay, I'll bite and hence this book was purchased.




I am REALLY excited about reading this book which is one of the reasons why it will be the last one for my monthly challenge. The other is that in standard paperback size it is over 900 pages long. So if I cannot finish it in one week, it won't hinder my timetable with another book. The story is based off an actual historical event but the author spins it to add more of the horror of the Arctic Expedition by writing about the interpersonal fears and an unseen force trying to claw its way into the ship. I really hope I enjoy this author because I already have Drood queued up to be purchased if I do.

So that is what has been going on behind the blogging curtain. The one where you occasionally see a peek of fire tresses or hear a giggle of a mutant. Lots of writing, lots of reading, and perhaps a few knit and purl stitches in between.
mutantenemy: (Default)
The past month has been a combination of being wonderfully chaotic, newly anxious, and sadly disappointed. I am so behind on reading folk's Tweets, LJ entries, and FB statuses that I've pretty much given up on trying to catch up. Nothing personal, it's just too mammoth a behemoth to master. Or something like that.

Did I mention I am tired?

You see, I'm a workin' gal now and my day starts when I sludge out of bed at 4:30am. Get to the office by 6:00am and work until the work is done. Usually as late as 3:00pm or as early as 1:30pm. Such is the life of a contractor.

The thing is, by the time I get home and do chores or run errands, I am WIPED and bedtime around 8:00PM sounds heavenly. I barely have the energy to write and my blog posts have suffered for it. My plan though is since I won't be working Friday, I can take the three-day weekend to finally blog the following:

1. My Rebirthing Party (with pix!)
2. Knitting Guild's Shop Hop (shiny, yarny pix!)
3. Last weekend's Southern Beltane festival (yes, you guessed it....with llamas!!)

I hope everyone on my F-List is healthy, happy, and being dangerously creative.

Snugs and Spanks,
Mutant

End of a Decade

Friday, 2 April 2010 02:21 pm
mutantenemy: (craft::firelady)
The first birthday card of the year arrived in the mail four days early. My first guess as I reached into the cavernous mail box, fingers searching for the small envelope was, "Ah, must be Mom."

I was mistaken. Ripping it open right there in the driveway, I was pleasantly surprised to be gifted with a lovely homemade card with beaded accents. Within was "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" stamped in a calming teal ink. Hand-written was, "Best Wishes From The Audubon Society."

How very, very cool. I've only been an official member for less than a month and the kind birding fanatics remembered my birthday. Even before my own mother. *chuckles*

It occurred to me this morning, as I poured my very dark, very rich, and very caffeinated coffee into my Cedars mug, that today is the last day of my 30's. Not simply the last day of a year, but the final day of a decade.

Whoa.

My pre-java-jolted brain wheeled from the significance of just how much time has past. Ten years of learning, stumbling, growing, hurting, loving, and coming into one's own. I started my 30th year in pure Wonder Woman fashion -- literally. Red, blue, white, and yellow streamers decorated my old apartment as Seasons 1 and 2 of the TV show played in the background. One friend brought a specially made WW cake, while another brought his muchly coveted Bennie Berry Juice. The party was filled with friends from all aspects of my life: childhood, dance club, wiccan, and other. I loved introducing them to each other and sitting back to watch the freaky geek sparks fly. The evening eventually ended up at the EMBERS where my dancing friends partied with me until I was the last one standing.

Thirty feels like so long ago. My third decade was when I became an ordained Priestess, loved three men, and watched my father die of prostate cancer. I nourished fledgling friendships and had two of them crash and burn before the decade was out. I made tons of mistakes, but was also gifted with just as many revelations. I wrote first drafts of four novels. I ballroom danced. I got corporately laid off three times and fired once. Now I am curious where my new career will take hold. I learned it was okay to be honest and to say "No". I learned who my real friends are. I learned that all the rebirths I've done from the ashes is not a punishment but what I am meant to do to be who I am. I gained weight and lost it and gained a little of it back. I grew hips on this once stick-straight body and grew my hair long. I reveled in being a redhead and embraced my inner geek. My sass has grown sharper and my heart stronger. I've learned I can be tough when the need calls for it, and be compassionate when others won't. I've learned what I am and what I'm not and have accepted both. All of this in just my third decade of life.


Forty will be awesome. There will be burning, there will be flames, there will be a Firebird spreading her wings; soaring over her old shell as she shines vibrantly in all that she is. And there may even be a margarita or three. Whatever this decade brings, I will not shy from it, I will not cower. I will look it proudly in the eyes and say, "Let's rock."
mutantenemy: (humour::dear life)
The radio silence was not intentional, merely me suffering from a hardcore bout of Procraftinitis. So many things I wish to share and / or write about and when faced with the daunting task, I crumbled underneath the weight of my own expectations and resorted to watching my favorite episodes of "NCIS".

What did I learn? First off, that there is no such thing as too much Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Secondly, I learned I need to get off my ass and back into writing every couple of days rather than the odd chance sighting once in a blue moon.

"Oh my goodness? Did you see that? It flashed right by!"

"What?"

"A UWP! An Unidentified Writing Piece! I recall seeing it a few times around Ember's blog so long ago, but now, golly gosh-gee-willikers, it has resurfaced. QUICK! TAKE A SCREEN CAPTURE."


All silliness aside, I shall try to do better. Now on with the update.

Last weekend I performed my first official duty as an Audubon Society Volunteer by helping them with Non-Native Vegetation Control. In other words, on the spring equinox I played in the mud and pulled English Ivy for six hours along the hiking trails.

I loved every minute of it. My body didn't, but I sure as hell did. I tromped through mud, played in the mud, placed mud on areas of my skin which brushed up against Stinging Nettles (not very annoying as some might think, but then my tolerance for itch is quite high), and came home with mud all over my cargo pants. Wheeee! I figured the equinox was a darn tootin' good day to give back to the Blessed Mother and to the nature loving community.

My muscles eventually did not agree. While they griped and moaned, I got myself all dolled up to take a dear friend out dancing for her birthday. We hit one of the popular clubs and, ee-gads, I cannot believe I used to frequent this joint three nights a week to dance my ass off. I did hit the dance floor, my body remembered the moves and created new ones, I was back in my element though I was quite a bit out of shape. Regardless, I had strangers approaching my friend saying, "You're redheaded friend out there is a really good dancer." Thank the gods, I have not lost my gift. While others feel lost if they're not writing, or photographing, or crafting, or singing.....for me, it's dancing. Why I haven't danced for so long...well....there are many excuses. The most embarrassing one is I'm not in the physical shape I used to be and my pride cannot imagine dancing if I'm out of breath. But then, how else am I going to get into better shape unless I exercise ala dancing?

Yup. Nasty catch-22 of the subconscious kind.

Sunday crawled into being and I crawled out of bed. Muscles were in a full throttle roar of such aggressive disappointment you'd think they were Republican or something. Pulling ivy and then dancing put me over the edge, but not without grasping four Advil Liquid Gels in the process. My left shoulder and right knee moved as if they were made of poppy paper (bubble wrap), as I shuffled around the house. Yeah, I need to dance more. I also need to stop making excuses for not dancing more. Before I was a writer, a reader, a girl with a crafty soul....I was a dancer.

No.

I AM a dancer.

Buried Nuts

Thursday, 28 January 2010 05:14 pm
mutantenemy: (redhead::taking pix)
While opening my bedroom window, I was treated to a show by our resident Squirrel. He was brown/gray with a blue silver tail and a VERY big boy. No other squirrels dare mess with him.

Because I was out of his view, I had the luxury of watching him dart, twitch, and search around a nearby bush for a nut. Little paws dug here and poked there. Finally, success. Squirrel darted to the base of a pine tree and cleaned all the dirt off the nut in a rather OCD fashion. It was really cute. Then without further ado, he popped it into his mouth and carried it up the tree which then met with the local Squirrel Freeway System (aka neighbor's fence) and he bounced off. Not darted, not skittered, he actually boingy'd along the fence line.

Quite entertaining.

On a completely different, though perhaps similar note, I was lucky enough to capture this shot of a local Red-Tailed Hawk. He's been hanging out by a environmentally protected marsh area near the local library. I had the fortune of having my camera on me, so I pulled over, took a few pix and this was my favorite.


25/365

Note to Self --- Self, when you have the funds to get a new camera, make sure the zoom capabilities knock your socks off.
mutantenemy: (Default)
Roughly a month ago, I had discovered the hair colour I used for the past few years had been discontinued. L'OREAL Feria's Bright Red Copper gave me the intensity and radio-activeness I had desired for years. When it was taken off the shelves because it simply didn't sell as well as their more "mundane" Power Reds, I went on a search for the perfect replacement. )
mutantenemy: (misc::animated lantern glow)
The rain started to soak through my rain "resistant" hoodie by the time I made it to the front door. Huffing underneath the cold clouds, I took pride I was able to accomplish another 2.7 miles in my morning ritual. Alright, every OTHER morning ritual. As I breathed in the wind, I felt exhilarated that I could accomplish just about anything I set my mind to today.

Inside the cozy blanket of my house, I brewed a cup of caffeinated ambrosia and began shifting through the emails. I received notice that yet another person had removed me from their Friends List. Earlier this week it was on Dreamwidth and that person was more of the dark, artistic vibe. I was cool with that, but apparently she wasn't cool with my day to day sundries.

Today's came from LiveJournal and whereas I was initially bummed, in the long run no harm, no foul. She was well within her rights to take me off her list because, let's face it, she was very into writing about her shamanistic experiences. Me not so much. Our interests diverged and whereas I read her entries, I never commented. I did leave her a comment wishing her well and that I completely understood.

Then I started thinking about my blog and the entires it contains within its virtual pages. Lately, I have NOT been writing about my spirituality or shamanism because I've felt there's really been nothing to write about. I feel like I'm in limbo. Not dead, mind you, I still have some amazing dreams. Why just recently I've experienced some with me climbing up hills, soaring / flying down hills, opening doors / portals to other realms others in my dreams are unable to to, etc. It definitely has been interesting, so why have I not been sharing?

Somehow, somewhere, I have misplaced my Voice. I want to share, but I'm conflicted as to how. In my mind, I want to manifest my blog into something truly magickal and inspiring. But unlike other blogs which have a running theme (crafty, shamanic, opinion, political, etc), I realized mine lacks one. My interests are all over place and I have several fingers in different pots. I possess no masterful expertise in simply ONE thing; just intermediate know-how in dozens.

Jill of All Trades here. Pleased to meet you.

Do I wish to write my blog with "Slice of Life" pieces or opinionated rants? Quirky humour or deep intellectual thinky thoughts? My day to day shamanic stumbles or my inner revelations which I've finally grasped? Some blogs are scholarly, others are artsy, many are hilarious, and a few are quite the hidden treasure chests only if you know where to dig.

I spoke of this limbo to a dear friend of mine and she confessed to be inflicted with the same dilema. Where is our Voice? I laughed and being the smartass I am said, "Great. We are both experiencing metaphysical / creative laryngitis. Do they have a lozenge for that?"

We laughed.

"Do they make an app for that?," I asked, "Perhaps turn an iPhone into a dowsing rod so we could find our misplaced Voice? Like looking for one's car keys?" We laughed some more and, honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if some genius out there does program such a nifty tool.

In closing, I suppose all I can say is bear with me. Some days will be dreadfully dull to read my blog, yet others will surprise you as I continue to search for my individual Voice. Perhaps I left it in the icebox?


15/365

Podcast for Thought

Thursday, 7 January 2010 06:03 pm
mutantenemy: (craft::firelady)
I have a few goals this year to help instill more discipline within my character. Not that I've always been a scatter brain. Quite the contrary, I've been able to accomplish some amazing things in my lifetime because of my dedication (eg: Complete 5 years worth of Priestesshood studies within 3). However, I also know myself to be a lazy ass if I allow it.

And I'm done with allowing it.

2010 is going to mark great change, great progress because my intent is phenomenally strong.

Goal of the First -- write in my blog every day to the best of my ability. I say "best of my ability" because if I am down with The Crud™, I certainly will not have the energy to ticka-tacka out a few lines of prose. Or if I'm traveling and out of town. I never bring my laptop camping, so I doubt during festival weekends I'll be huddled in my Coppery Barn triangulating the nearest wi-fi signal.

Goal of the Second -- take a photo every day. Taking one is easy, posting it falls under the caveats of previous goal.

Goal of the Third -- create a daily spiritual practice and stick with it. This is a biggie. Way back in the day I used to mediate after work. Every day. Folks noticed a difference in the energy I put out ("Nothing stresses you!") and I noticed how less my feathers were ruffled. Over the past 14 years, my daily practice has been sporadic at best. I want to change that.

What has spurred this quest for inner discipline has been a long time coming, but today during my morning walk, I got a reminder. Not an Anvil or a Clue x Four, but an affectionate whop upside the back of the head ala Gibbs style.

For the past two weeks I've opted to not listen to heart-thumping music while I walk, but to a podcast by T. Thorn Coyle called "Elemental Castings". Each week (or every other week) she focuses on each element and what they represent in our lives. Today's was about FIRE: creativity, will, intent. Her guest speaker, Mark, was a man very connected to Energy and Fire. He started his practice way back in high school with martial arts and eventually came through to the Western Esoteric magick through his studies of the Eastern philosophies. Mark quoted everything from Buddhism, to Hinduism, to the Qabbalah regarding Will. But that is not what impressed me. What caught my intention is, for being such a fiery woman to begin with, I have not harnessed the power of my Will to its fullest capacity. To be able to do work with intent, intent to bring Joy into my life. I somehow allowed myself to get sucked up into the mundane worries we all have of bills, rent, and finding a job. I've been performing these jobs with no Joy and with only a mere tapping into the power of my Will.

Mark then shared his daily practice, which upon hearing made me feel very, very lazy. He gets up at 4:20am every morning to do his spiritual practice, part of which includes mantra chanting for one hour and doing some working stances out underneath the sun. This does not include his three times a week nightly practice.

I need that. I've been feeling the strong need for that, but I have not been complying. I've been allowing myself to get distracted with knitting and reading and writing. Not being creative to infuse creative intent, but to keep my mind off of things I know I should be doing.

Bad Ember.

"You have two choices. You can either be a Slave or a Master," rang through my earbuds. I sucked in my breath and listened. "You can chose to meditate for an hour or chose to waste your time watching that tv show. Your choice." Yes. I have a choice. Quite elementary logic in thought, but in practice not so much.

So, I've made a choice. I choose to be a Master.


7/365

Well, crap.

Wednesday, 9 December 2009 05:04 pm
mutantenemy: (mutant::emberlution)


Today I found out that my hair colour, L'Oreal Feria Power Red R75/ Bright Copper Red has been discontinued. I noticed it off the store shelves back in February, but now a wholesaler where I purchased inventory from is completely out of stock. No back orders.

This sucks.

I've been a bottled red head since I was 22 and have been through many different shades (strawberry blonde, copper penny, cherry red, mahogony, auburn) and in 2006 (?) I discovered my perfect shade: Bright Copper Red. It was intense. It was vivid. It was radioactive and it embodied my personality to a tee.

Complete strangers would compliment me on my hair and the colour more than any other time I've been embracing my red head within. A few years ago, I allowed my former hair stylist to talk me into adding a dark, reddish plum to the under layer so my flaming red hair would have depth. It worked like a charm and more heads turned. It took me until I was in my 30's to finally find my image -- how I physically wished to be perceived by others. Some women dress in vintage clothes. Others can do a pixie cut with bohemian flair. A few can do chunky frames for their glasses. I found my fire tressed mane and now, well, now I feel as if a smidgen of my identity has been taken away.

I do not feel completely ME.

I love my mind

Tuesday, 24 November 2009 12:42 pm
mutantenemy: (elphaba::smirk)

For the past few weeks my sleeping has been a bit sporadic. Nothing detrimental or disturbing, just a lot of tossing and turning and waking up more tired than I was when I went to bed. Some dreams were there, others got lost in the cellophane whisper of waking up. Yet that has all changed thanks to last night.

I am looking for a job. That is nothing new. I am one of thousands upon thousands of people in my state who have been searching for a job for almost a year now. It can be frustrating, depressing, and very tasking on one's sense of self worth. Last night I started a special 9-day crafting to draw My Ideal Job to me and I believe that performing such a positive, affirming ritual has shifted my brain into a happier frame of mind. So happy that last night while I slept like a baby, I had the most weird and coolest sort of dreams.

One segment had me at a university out in the woods. Cabins were the classrooms, all the students wore gray uniforms, and we were being instructed by the Japanese. The courses I was taking were math and English and the assignments were daunting (eg. Solve 100 math equations and then create 100 of your own, due tomorrow morning). As were the instructors strictness of follow-through. Yet in the end, we would get a holiday break of a month and a half. In other words, you work hard you can play hard.

Another segment had angels. One was a burly man with dark black wings and another looked like a little hippie. He was about 5'3", large white wings, hand long hair, and wore a hemp shirt and drawstring pants. He was flying near an airplane which was suffering from technical difficulties and would have crashed if he had not swooped along, adjusted the wing with his bare hands as if it were made of tin foil, and guided the plane in.

One other segment had me out on a date with a guy who looked very much like younger Liam Neeson. Heh.

I was also on a jet with Amanda Palmer and her crew and we were taking silly photos with her iPhone.

Finally, I was in a movie theatre watching this apocalyptic film and the actress who played Kara "Starbuck" Thrace in BSG was staring in it. She played this kick-ass heroine who was going to bring down the bad guys who brought on all this destruction to the city. She had climbed into a secret passage to get to their main HQ so she could sabotage them from within. The camera then moves to the bad guys talking strategy (They had set up HQ in a very cool, and old looking library. Don't ask.). Head Villain asked 3rd In Command if they covered their asses. No lose ends. 3rd In Command nervously said, "Yes. Of course, sir." Head Villain tosses a very full looking organizer planner onto the table. It was busting out of the seams with papers.

"We have to make sure this does not happen. Because THIS is the most dangerous thing out there we face!" He points to the dayplanner.

"Why is that, sir? It is such a small thing." 3rd In Command has no spine, of course, hence his ranking.

"Nothing can threaten us but THIS. No missiles, no secret ops, no Navy Seals. THIS is our most dangerous enemy. The Girlfriend!"

"Sir?"

The Head Villain opens up the dayplanner and out pours all these journal pages with sketches and plans and clippings --- of a wedding to be. Written on the inside cover was a pledge to her man she would do anything to save him. "A woman in love is VERY dangerous. The Girlfriend will do whatever it takes to save her man. She will do anything for Love. So, 3rd In Command, tighten up security, get our tanks on the perimeter, because she is coming and we will be in for one hell of a fight."

I laughed pretty damn hard when I awoke. You do realize, of course, that some of this is going into my NaNoWriMo today.

Gods, sometimes, I really love how my mind works.

Brick Wall

Tuesday, 3 November 2009 11:31 am
mutantenemy: (humour::annoyed kitteh)

Brick Wall? Let me introduce you to my forehead. Repeatedly. Please do not mind the dull thunking you hear. It helps me jog and rattle ideas out of my brain. A brain which is suffering some serious case of Writer's Block.

I have been sitting here at Ava Roasteria, a fantastically busy coffee shop thanks to their free wifi, dark chocolate mochas, and being open 24 hours. In two hours time only 1,000 words have been written in my fourth NaNoWriMo novel.

I hate it. I know other writers go through this, especially professional ones, but it doesn't make the experience any warm or any fuzzier. This is how it always happens with NaNo. I create this really cool idea for a story, I'm able to start but then around day 3 or 5, I get stuck and nothing seems to come forth onto the Scrivener screen.

What is agitating is how I'm able to prattle out an ambiguous post on my blog as a form of A.) procraftination and B.) therapy in dealing with said Writer's Bock. I'm hoping the more I rattle on and on, the more I whine and fuss, my focus will return through this stream of conscious writing and bad grammar and get me back on the horse.
mutantenemy: (craft::i have firebird wings)
By gosh, by golly, it has been a long-ass time since I've updated, hasn't it? Roughly two months of radio silence. Well, as the old year winds down today, I am making a personal goal to set a regular writing schedule. Not once a day, that would be too big of a bite for me to chew, especially with NaNoWriMo starting up in roughly 10 hours. But definitely more than what I've been doing.

So why has the fire-tressed Mutant been on hiatus all this time? No amazing reason. Honestly, I didn't feel like talking. I get that way sometimes because this age's need to have Real Time Information gets overwhelming for me. Though I haven't posted, I have commented here and there just to let folks know I haven't died. :)

For those who are interested, this is what Mutant has been doing with herself lately. )
mutantenemy: (mutant::animated gif)
Yes, I am one who has had ENOUGH of the vampiric Others seeping into our pop culture.

I reached my over-saturation point when the Sookie Stackhouse and Twilight books came out. Nowadays when you waltz through the Fantasy or Young Adult section, all you SEE are vampire novels. The problem being, there is nothing novel about them (yes, pun intended). Oh look, a teenage vampire having to deal with high school? Gee, that hasn't been done before. Ah, a woman falling in love with a vampire who is rougish and possibly good? *yawn* Never read that before either. Ooooooo, a vampire who occupies his nighttime by moping in such an EMO-attach-the-back-of-my-hand-to-my-forehead-with-a-stake angstiness it would put Louis of "Interview With A Vampire" to shame? *GROAN*

Note: I did so love Anne Rice's novel when I was a teenager. It fit my life perfectly and it's still one of my favorite novels. However, the Brooding Vampire is like beating a dead horse. It's been ridden hard. And yes, Angel m'boy, I'm looking at you.

In my opinion the Vampire needs to be *cringe* revamped. I don't care how, but I must admit going back to the basics would be a refreshing start. Let Vampires be truly, undiluted evil again.

Where does this tirade come from? Well, it appears Mr. Neil Gaiman feels similarly too.

The next over-saturation point will be the Zombies. We're not there yet, but we're damn close as they are just over the peak of popularity. By 1st quarter 2010, I predict, it will be time to move on to another Other. My vote? Werewolves. :)
mutantenemy: (Default)
Earlier this week I was finally able to reveal the "Sekrit Project" I was working on with 22 other photographers. The news had been making its rounds on Mr. Kyle's journal and participants' blogs for a day. Yesterday we all receive an email from Kyle giving us the most amazing news EVAR:

There is a gallery in Cleveland, Mississippi who want to give "In The Hive" its OWN SHOW in the fall where all 83 photos will be on display.

*blinks*

*rubs eyes*

My first quirky step out into the Photography Community to see what I could do and my photos get a showing along with other cool photographers?

I am stunned. Amazed. And really FREAKING happy!!

Money will have to be scrimped and saved so I can attend because plane tickets, rental car, and hotel room do not come cheap. If to attend my first showing I have to sacrifice a pirate festival or a fall knitting retreat, than so be it. This is a Once-In-A-Lifetime (TM) opportunity and I will not miss it!
mutantenemy: (humour::drama queen)
I should be writing up a book and cd review for "newWitch" magazine, but I'm stalling. Instead I am going through the DW Directory Search and looking for freaks-like-me to get to know and add to my Circle.

Why do I do this? I love writing. I truly do. Next to dancing since I was 4 years old, writing is something I've been doing almost as long and with equal passion. So why do I stall?

Why do I stall on revamping my NaNo novel from 2007?

Why do I put off finishing my NaNo of 2008 which stopped at 51,000 yet there was more story to tell?

Why am I not following some sort of "biz plan" and getting my shit in gear so I can follow my whacked-out dream pursuit of becoming a PUBLISHED AUTHOR?

Why do I hesitate in writing short stories to keep my writing prowess up to prow?

What the FUCK am I afraid of??

*sigh*

Gee, you want a list? Cause I've got one and at the top header it reads: FEAR.

Fear of following a dream because, hey, in this economic cesspool, it's not a very practical thing to do right now. Must find a corporate-life-sucking job to pay the bills because that's how it's done. Follow the lemmings. Get back into the corporate grind as the cogs press into your spine.

Fear of failure. Ooooo, that's a biggie. What if I'm not as successful as Neil Gaiman or Patricia Briggs or JK Rowling or Marion Zimmer-Bradley or Doug Adams? Could I live with that? What if my writing is simply not up to par and is sneer-worthy, or worse, intensely milk-out-the-nose laughable?

What "new" thought or philosophy do I have to offer the literary world?

Gods. I truly loathe how insecure I can be. And lazy. Let us not forget lazy. But lazy is an excuse I use to slither through the loopholes of pursuing my dream. I know the worst crime is never trying. So why am I not trying?

A WICKED Good Time!

Sunday, 5 April 2009 02:52 pm
mutantenemy: (elphaba::smirk)
Yesterday was spectacular.

Beyond awesome.

Dare I say it was a megolithical day, even though such a word doesn't exist, it darn well should! )
mutantenemy: (misc::thoughtful)
Snow forces me to slow down, appreciate more and giggle at the glitter falling from the sky.

Graciousness and chivalry are not dead.

Older folks are more prone to sit next to a newly nuked, fire-tressed mutant than those of younger generations.

Bus drivers LOVE IT when you say "thanks" and wish them well.

Cat-napping on a toasty bus is a good way to start one's work day.

Starbux's limited Espresso Truffle, served extra hot, is ORGASMIC!! And quite the treat for a snowy Friday.

Virgin no more!

Tuesday, 16 December 2008 08:15 pm
mutantenemy: (keys)
I took the bus to work for the first time today because:

A.) I want to save on money
B.) I'm terrified of the dumbasses who don't know how to drive on snow/ice
C.) I could not afford to stay home and miss any work
D.) All the above

The correct answer? B and C! Yes, I know there was no option for that, but after I ran some calculations, taking the bus is NOT cheaper for me on a monthly basis now that gas is $1.69/gallon. Three months ago when it was teetering over $4.50? Oh, hell yeah, but not now.

[livejournal.com profile] gypsylady was kind enough to offer me some pointers as I was heading into a new adventure with public transportation. Now, I've taken the MAX a few times into downtown Portal Land just for shits and giggles. Or to the Zoo so I don't have to finagle with the parking faeries. But I have never needed to take a Trimet bus to work until now. In the past whenever it got so dangerously bad on the roads, it would have been melted witin 24 hours, to where taking one Snow Day from work was fine. OR I lived a mile from the office and could just hike it to work.

Not this year. Not a year where they predict another snow storm tomorrow, with freezing rain to follow. And below freezing temps for the next 7 days.

So at 5:54am, I waited by my bus stop, a mere block from my apartment. And waited. And did a little dance. And waited. The bus driver was very kind as I fumbled a bit for my $2.30, making sure it was at the ready so as not to hold anyone up. Inside the bus was nice and toasty, but I was very thankful I wore my layers (long johns, two pairs of socks, jeans, long sleeve tee, cotton turtle neck, down vest, Columbia Sportswear winter jacket in ORANGE and my knit hat). I was transported to my first stop where I had to wait for my transfer. Some people were dressed remarkably light (jeans and a hoodie. WTF??) and I would occasionally refer to my crib sheet of different route options in case I missed one of them. My route pulled up, I got on and I stayed on that route all the way to NE Portal Land. I was dropped off one block from Starbux where I treated myself to some mocha goodness, then I walked the rest of the way to the office. The time was 7:45am. I was technically 45 minutes late but all was cool as I have no control over how late the buses run (I was supposed to be there by 7am).

But I made it to work! And on the ride home, ee-gads, we got stuck in traffic but for the first time I didn't have to stress over it. I wasn't driving. :-) I made note of all the different stops on the way home and realized there was one right outside of Freddies. Cool. And another just a block from Joanne Fabrics. Nifty. I took the latter stop because I had to hike to the Dollar Store to stock up on some soup and juice as the next snow storm (they are predicting 2-6" on the valley floor) moves in tomorrow. Tossing the goodies into my back-pack, I hiked home underneath the lit up street lights, saying "Evening" with a chipper smile to other hiking passerbys, and paid close attention to where I placed my feet on the glistening side walk.

My feet met my doorstep just before 7PM. I got on the bus at 4:25pm. Ugh.

I had no idea how draining riding the bus can be. Many people utilize those 2 hours each way by reading or writing or listening to their ipods. Well, I cannot read or write on a jolting bus or my tummy will start to get queasy. My ipod is available but I enjoy NOT tuning people out by plugging in elsewhere. I enjoy plugging into the environment around me (one of the main reasons I've stopped listening to the radio on my morning commute....I truly enjoy the silence). However, now that I have a better idea of where the route goes and how long it takes, tomorrow I'll bring my knitting with me. :-) A perfect time to practice some knit and purl stitches while others slip and slide and stress on the winter roads.

December rarity

Sunday, 14 December 2008 07:29 am
mutantenemy: (the elements)
It be snowing!

Well, it has been snowing all day, non-stop. The white stuff accumulating upon my birdie tree house says it's about 4 inches deep. And the wind is really gusting.

Normally out here in the PNW we are lucky to get a dusting, a tease of wintery weather around the holidaze. Snow usually waits until January to dump its load upon us. LOL Not this year!!

Driving home this morning was tricky and nerve racking, but I did it. Wish I could say the same for the dozen others who decided to parallel park on the highway....uphill. Once I arrived home in one piece, THEN I got all bundled up and went outside to play. :-)

Tomorrow will be a stay home day. I'll get up at my usual time to check the roads, but my guess is, screw it. I-5 will be horrible, as will the Markem Bridge. Aaaaand, I don't have chains. I did, but I believe they are still housed in my ex's garage from two years ago. Not sure.

In the "YAY For Listening To My Intuition" Category, I zipped into Jiffy Lube yesterday to get my oil changed. During the process the guys noted my serpetine belt was severely cracked and had about 25% of its life left. They didn't need to convince me how IMPORTANT this belt was to the operation of my car, I could tell by looking at its location and to all the mechanisms attached to it. The cost of $69.99 bit a little harder into my budget, but I'll live. Would rather take care of it now, than have my car die in the middle of a icy hill.

Now I shall take a warm shower, dress up in some cuddly layers, and practice my knitting and purling while watching the snow. Oh yeah, Life is really not that bad. ;-)

Stay warm and safe guys!!