Kitten!

So, last week, my mother and sister informed me that a stray cat was hanging around our back door. "Okay," I thought with a mental shrug. Our town isn't overrun with stray animals, but it wasn't anything too new. Besides, we'd fed strays before and we always ended up taking them to the local animal shelter. I like cats, but I figured that this one was just passing through or we'd end up taking it to the animal shelter, so I thought it best to not get too attached to the idea of having a new cat around.

The next day, I got to see the cat--my mom had put some food out for it by the back door. I was cautious at first, because, again I didn't want to get too attached, and I wasn't sure if the cat had fleas or was sick... so I tried to keep my distance, but that didn't last for long because soon she was on my lap, purring. During the next couple of days, I fell in love and bonded. I sit outside and the cat, who we found to be female and not so much a cat as an adolescent kitten, sits on my lap for hours at a time as I stroke her soft fur while I read.

I decided soon after I met her, that her name was going to be Scout. (Though, at the time, I thought she was a he; thankfully, I chose a unisex name.) When I first let her onto my lap, I made sure she didn't have fleas, because I didn't want the bugs to get onto me then get taken into the house where the cat and dog we already have would have picked them up. Scout is surprisingly clean for a stray, but we think that she was either lost or someone recently had to move and left her behind. She always seems to want inside the house, so I'd imagine she used to live with people and knows what "inside" is.

Scout came to us very hungry and rather thin. She devoured I don't know how much cat food the first couple of days she was with us. She has since slowed down because she had her fill and/or she realizes that the food's not going anywhere, that we're not going to take it away. We gave her a box with an old rug, a towel, and, most recently, an inexpensive fleece blanket to sleep with since it's rather chilly and rainy. Yesterday, I modified a box, wrapping it in plastic and duct tape in order to waterproof it for the rain and I cut a smaller doorway in the front to block out some of the wind. Scout seems to like her new house.

So, I'm hoping and praying that I can keep the kitten. We're going to see about taking her to the vet to get her shots and to get her de-clawed and spayed. I'm also going to clean up a lot of my crap in my room so the kitten doesn't get lost. I think that as long as there's nothing terribly wrong with her (health-wise)... I think, I hope, that perhaps... maybe... I might be allowed to keep her. I hope, I hope, I hope. Because she's like a little angel that was sent to me. I've been in such a slump; it's so nice to have something new in my life. She'll be my mental health cat. /sappy crap

Anyway, hopefully she'll be given a more or less clean bill of health and will learn to get along with the dog and cat we already have and Scout can stay. I hope, I hope, I hope.

Long Silence

Well... It's been a while. I needed the break. I'm taking the semester off from school to get my shit together so that when I go out into the world with a BFA, I'll feel better prepared. In fact, I've been doing a lot of thinking about what I'm gonna do with the BFA once I have it. To be a painter... an artist, that would be ideal, but I'm not feeling as thought that's gonna happen. Not right away, anyway. For a while, I was thinking about working in theater, with set and production design; I'm still interested in that, but I don't want it to be all I ever do.

As of late, I've not been able to make any new art. I've only been preparing paper with ink washes to be drawn over at a later date. It's frustrating not feeling able to do something that I should be able to do--something that I know I can do--but I feel burnt out. I've been trying to de-program myself of the art school way of thinking, trying to figure out what I want to do because I really want to do it and what I want to do because someone told me I should want to do it. I'm trying to make it be okay for me to not have to do anything. I'm trying to remove the pressure to produce art. It would be nice to create something everyday and, in some ways, I still do, but I guess I'm trying to give myself permission to not feel compelled to produce... at least, for the moment. And, if I should choose to make something, sometimes it's gonna be crappy; that's okay.

I've been trying to get into my writing--the rewrites of my novels, but I can't settle on one to work on. I want to, but I just can't concentrate. I've been doing some reading; after being told to check him out when I was a freshman, I finally "discovered" Neil Gaiman. I read The Graveyard Book, which is one of the best books I've read in a long time. I've moved onto The Sandman series which is quite excellent. I've noticed in the past that I have a difficult time multi-tasking when it comes to reading new books and working on my own writing, it feels like the new information, when it's really good (and Neil Gaiman is really good) tends to influence my writing, sometimes too directly. I don't wanna write a book that's already been written or steal someone else's characters, so I need to get some distance (or time) between the new stuff I'm putting into my head and the stuff that's coming out, or else the two will look alike. I guess I'm fairly impressionable as far as literature goes; I'm still doing a lot of learning about writing and sometimes I'm too much of a sponge.

So, I'm not making art and I'm not working on my writing. I hate not producing, but I keep telling myself that my creative well is not endless and I've gotta let it refill itself once in a while. So, I will.

More Quizzes

Your result for The 3 Variable Funny Test...

the Wit

(67% dark, 35% spontaneous, 32% vulgar)

your humor style:
CLEAN | COMPLEX | DARK



You like things edgy, subtle, and smart. I guess that means you're probably an intellectual, but don't take that to mean pretentious. You realize 'dumb' can be witty--after all isn't that the Simpsons' philosophy?--but rudeness for its own sake, 'gross-out' humor and most other things found in a fraternity leave you totally flat.

I guess you just have a more cerebral approach than most. You have the perfect mindset for a joke writer or staff writer.

Your sense of humor takes the most thought to appreciate, but it's also the best, in my opinion.



You probably loved the Office. If you don't know what I'm
talking about, check it out here: href=http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/theoffice/>http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/theoffice/.



PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Jon Stewart - Woody Allen - Ricky Gervais







The 3-Variable Funny Test!

- it rules -

Take The 3 Variable Funny Test at HelloQuizzy

Your result for The Commonly Confused Words Test...

English Genius

You scored 100% Beginner, 100% Intermediate, 100% Advanced, and 80% Expert!

You did so extremely well, even I can't find a word to describe your excellence! You have the uncommon intelligence necessary to understand things that most people don't. You have an extensive vocabulary, and you're not afraid to use it properly! Way to go!

Thank you so much for taking my test. I hope you enjoyed it!

For the complete Answer Key, visit my blog: http://shortredhead78.blogspot.com/.

Take The Commonly Confused Words Test at HelloQuizzy

Fairly accurate...

I took a short personality test similar to the Myers-Briggs tests. Last time I took one, I was in high school and I got an INFP. Things have changed a little. It seems very accurate in some aspects, but also a little disturbing... I mean, I know I'm neurotic, but... Damn. It seems to skew all of the characteristics that have to do with not liking crowds and massive amounts of social interaction as though they're going to completely cripple me for life. Those attributes can be assets sometimes.

INFJ
"Author" Strong drive and enjoyment to help others.
Complex personality. 1.5% of total population.
Free Jung Personality Test (similar to Myers-Briggs/MBTI)

Introverted (I) 61.76% Extroverted (E) 38.24%
Intuitive (N) 50% Sensing (S) 50%
Feeling (F) 78.13% Thinking (T) 21.88%
Judging (J) 57.58% Perceiving (P) 42.42%

creative, smart, focus on fantasy more than reality, attracted to sad things, fears doing the wrong thing, observer, avoidant, fears drawing attention to self, anxious, cautious, somewhat easily frightened, easily offended, private, easily hurt, socially uncomfortable, emotionally moody, does not like to be looked at, fearful, perfectionist, can sabotage self, can be wounded at the core, values solitude, guarded, does not like crowds, organized, second guesses self, focuses on peoples hidden motives, prone to crying, not competitive, prone to feelings of loneliness, not spontaneous, prone to sadness, longs for a stabilizing relationship, fears rejection in relationships, frequently worried, can feel victimized, prone to intimidation, lower energy, strict with self

favored careers:
psychotherapist, artist, art curator, bookstore owner, freelance writer, poet, teacher (art, drama, english), library assistant, professor of english, painter, novelist, book editor, copywriter, philosopher, environmentalist, bookseller, museum curator, opera singer, magazine editor, archivist, music therapist, screenwriter, film director, creative director, librarian, social services worker, art historian, sign language interpreter, photo journalist, makeup artist, photo journalist, homemaker

disfavored careers:
airline pilot, race car driver, businessman, information technology consultant, executive, administrator, supervisor, bartender, lab technician, restaurant owner, strategist, ceo, bar owner, marketing specialist, business consultant

Mid-Semester Breakdown

Why does everything have to be so goddamn hard for me?

On top of a mounting backlog of schoolwork (two essays, three reports, and numerous journal entries, among other things) every other aspect of my life seems to be in the toilet as well. I've spent so much of my life trying to autopsy my half of failed friendships--relationships that I thought were so great then something happened, and communications stopped for whatever reason. I ask if I did something wrong not because I'm being a smartass or playing dumb, I honestly don't know. I try to be conscientious and a good friend, I'd never do anything to deliberately hurt my friends because I'm... y'know, a halfway decent human being. Everything I say that might be interpreted as being hurtful... Well, chances are that I'm being glib or I'm responding to something else that's going on in my life.

But, despite my good intentions, I seem to have pissed off a lot of people I considered to be friends. Communications have ceased and I'm being ignored. This leads me to wonder, are friendships really that disposable? Or is it just my friendship that's so expendable?

I've had a lot of friends over the years who have been for "respecting life," which is commendable, but what about respecting the living? What about respecting your fellow human and telling them what the deal is instead of simply cutting them loose or ignoring them without any explanation?

So, I've been at home since Saturday because it seemed to be a better idea that staying in Chicago for the weekend when no one there is talking to me. At least here I have a few allies. In the meantime, though, I'm getting behind in my painting, but even if I were in the studio, I'd be obsessing over all of the other work I have to do as well as continuing to wonder what I've done that's so horrible that people who were once friends have now stopped talking to me.

I'm going to have to go back to Chicago sometime soon, but for what? To face a mountain of work without anyone on my side anymore. I've tried so hard to be a good friend, supporting my friends when they've needed my help, but I've been left high and dry when I need someone in my corner. All I need is for someone to drop me a line, throw me a bone, do something that will let me know that you're still there for me. If I've done something, if I've inadvertently hurt someone, talk to me about it, don't assume I know because, chances are, I don't. I just need someone to talk to me because I'm feeling more and more like I live on a deserted island in downtown Chicago; I'm surrounded by people I know but I'm still utterly alone and yearning for some sort of friendly human contact.

Relief... For now...

Well, the midterm crit went much better than I thought it would. I learned that my paintings are doing what I want them to do. I've been so exhausted after stressing out so much, though. When I went in on Wednesday, I had pretty much resolved in my mind that I'd done my best and that was all I could do; I couldn't change what I had or hadn't done, so I decided that I wouldn't be worried. Then, I walked into the first crit (late, of course--it's my new habit this semester, since I only have to walk about three blocks to class instead of six) and panic washed over me. The art on the walls was super-conceptual, nothing like mine. I listened to the artspeak that was being tossed about and, as we went from crit to crit with all of the more conceptual, slacker artwork, I began to worry. With one exception, I was probably one of the most figurative, realistic painters in the class. What would people say when I put my paintings up? Was I going to be told to work more loosely? To go more abstract?

I hung my paintings while the class was on another floor doing a different crit. (We alternated crit spaces to expedite the turnover, so we didn't have to stop and wait for the next person to install their work.) My paintings, which all seem rather large in my studio space, looked altogether pathetic on the large white wall, but, I told myself, there was nothing that I could do about that now. So, with time to spare, I went to the other crit space and caught the tail end of the crit before mine. As a class, we returned to the space where my work was and as people began to walk in and examine my paintings, a new burst of adrenaline was pumped into my system. Suddenly, the paintings on the wall were my paintings. I saw all of the flaw, all of the places where things weren't resolved, all of the minute problems where the image on the canvas differed from the vision in my head. Of course, I knew that only I could see these things, but I still had my doubts. What if this was one of those instances when I wasn't being over-self-conscious and those problems were not only visible but strikingly obvious to everyone else? My hands began to shake as I sat back and watched my fellow students examine my work. I tried not to think about all of the unfinished parts. This wasn't a jury for an exhibition; it's midterms, the work doesn't have to be finished.

I had written down what I wanted to say about the work beforehand, because I knew that once I was asked to say something, coherent thought would take a coffee break and I'd stutter and stumble, grasping for the words that had come so easily only moments before when no one was looking at me. I managed to explain that these paintings were more or less meditations on my diagnosis of Asperger's Syndrome; that they were about feeling isolated and alienated, but with the knowledge that there was hope that it wouldn't always be that way, though, at the same time, having a sense of solace in the knowledge that the problems caused by the Asperger's are real and not just me being a crazy, neurotic lunatic.

The paintings were well-received. That is, they were received the way I had intended them to be. Words like "eerie," "dangerous," and "mysterious" were all used. Prague and Vienna were mentioned and I hadn't said a word about having gone to Europe, so I was glad that the work still had a sense of place more than a year after having been there. The film Amadeus, one of my all-time favorite movies, was mentioned and that made me happy. There was also a lot of talk about theater sets and non-narrative narrative painting; the feeling that the actual narrative was happening just around the corner. I found the mention of theater very interesting as I love the theater and have been thinking about set painting/design and production design as a possible career. I was also surprised that when theater was mentioned, it wasn't used as a pejorative as it has been in the past to describe some of my work. And, to top it all off, I don't recall the word "illustration" or any of its cognates being used once!

Animation and film was mentioned, which was also intriguing because, about a year ago, I had a bit of a breakdown because, being a storyteller, I began to realize that maybe I should have gone into filmmaking instead of painting since it was a less static form of expression. The thing was, I had already invested myself so much in painting... To switch majors, especially without any knowledge about filmmaking would be academic suicide. So, I kept painting, hoping that the passion I had for it would drive me to something that would be meaningful. And, apparently, it has, because I'm finally beginning to feel as though I belong in the studio. I'm being true to myself and the product of that has been accepted without me having to build up some conceptual facade to try to appease everyone else.

I am aware, however, that this could all change at the final crit this semester. I've seen it happen, where, you're told that the work it great halfway through the semester then when it comes time for finals, everyone turns on the work and tears it to pieces... So, I'm cautiously optimistic. I know that, no matter the consequences, I have to keep making my work and being myself because everyone else is already taken.

Eek! Midterms Today... Wish Me Luck

Today we're having midterm crits in advanced painting. I've got a lot to rant about from the last couple of days, but I've been too angry to type. Instead, I'm going to see what happens today then get back and rant like a madwoman.

I will say this, though, I am so sick of the pretentious, pseudo-high-minded bullshit that's been going on at my school and I've looked at more slacker art that anyone should have to stomach. I slave over my art like... well, a slave. I swear, if I get totally trashed today... Well, depending upon how much of my sanity is left by the time my turn to be critiqued rolls around, but there may be a total art school meltdown. (Or maybe that'll be at the end of the semester.) I almost wish, though, that the meltdown would happen already; then everyone would know how angry I am, how sick I am of damn near everything. Once that happens, I feel as though I'll be free of this double life I've felt the need to live; I'll be able to do the art I want and people will realize that I'm going to be meticulous about my paintings no matter what the subject is. I'm idiosyncratic, isn't that supposed to be "in style" right now?

Anyway, more later... I've gotta go prepare myself for all of the art speak today. (I have a list of "critique" words and I tick them off each time I hear one.) So... epic levels of bullshit today, I'm gonna go get my boots and a shovel.