breathtaking art from Xia Xiao Wan

Perusing the latest issue of Hi*Fructose art publication, I became enthralled with the dimensional art of Xia Xiao Wan.

The artist paints layers of his images on successive panes of glass which are displayed spaced out slightly to give a more dimensional effect, like a series of MRI slices. I already have a great affection for glass, but these images seem so fragile and in some way more impactful and urgent than a crust of dried oil on a single flat surface.

Most of his images seem dark and some are disturbing in nature, but all are amazing.

see you on a dark night.

Oblivion by Grimes

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: kennel cab cutie

Praline just loves her kennel cab. When I take just ridiculously too long to come to bed, she'll retreat to her personal bandit-girlie space. She's so cute, and she's much sweeter than the little hooligan mask could ever belie.

Why does Blogger not let me have paragraphs any more?

I like paragraphs. Are paragraphs going out of style?

The way forward

I got off work yesterday and I realized that I had nothing to do, no prior commitments, no one I said I'd meet at a play or karaoke or coffee. I was the definition of un-busy for once. And then I realized why I do all the overcommitting that I do: I'm a sociable person and I spend an unusual amount of time alone. Himself is at work 5 evenings a week and I work in the days and we have different days off, so opportunities for just lounging about really don't happen. I do need to be around people. Rather than sitting around like a clove on a baked ham, I went and bought a book and took myself on a date to a sushi restaurant. I had a nice time, met some people from Cuba when one of them was wracking his brain to think of a particular Colombian author's name he loved (Gabriel Garcia-Marquez) who happens to be one of my favorites. Nice things happened. It was like kismet and I came home feeling like I'd had something a little more spontaneous than usual happen. Then I went for a walk for about an hour and chatted to a dear friend whilst I did. It was a nice Friday night. Those occasions of concentrated time alone lead one to introspection. I was musing to a friend that another friend said that I'm so upbeat that it can be hard to take. The truth is, when I'm around friends, unless I'm in a state of distress and need comfort, I generally feel like a puppy and so excited to see everyone. Maybe that's why I identify with my houndies so deeply-- they don't know the meaning of squandering time with dear ones. Life is to be savored and enjoyed, and not whine away with pointless worry and fear. I don't know when, exactly, but I started reading Cynthia Occelli's blog some time ago, maybe about a year or so. I'm not one to go to any site regularly, but updates on hers feed to my email and have an uncanny knack for buoying me in the direction I need more often than not. Also, I'm not one to subscribe to fortune-cookie generalities, and thoughts that generate a baseless good feeling for its own sake. Hers is a sight where she shares much of what she's been through and what she overcomes, and there is a strong focus on letting go of negative feelings that keep one from achieving what they aspire to in life. She's an incredible person with a great story about propelling herself forward and leaving self-defeating thought systems in her wake. I admire her optimism and her ability to sublimate dark humors by moving forward with her life and not dragging along cumbersome swags of other peoples' baggage. But I do have the occasional dark humor. All the time I'm swimming forward but I am aware of a chasm in the rearview mirror and glancing back is nigh irresistable. I have to fight to keep the dark thoughts at bay, and sometimes, a boost from Cindy really helps me fight the tide. Her post today is called Only the good stuff, and it contains several great things today but one in particular struck me. She said:

What it means when people criticize you: When people undermine your dreams, predict your doom or criticize you, remember they're telling you their story, not yours. Cynthia Occelli

I've thought that very thing in the past, but was not able to work it into a verbal mass so nicely. Thank you for the encouragin' words, Cindy. :)

Poor Little Praline!

Last night my little girl got stung or bitten by something, most likely a bee or a wasp and her little snout got pretty puffy and lumpy. She's such a little Tomboy that it's startling how cuddly and needy she can be if she feels a little poorly. She couldn't wait to get into bed and snuggle. I laid awake for a while listening to her breathing, my hand on her little ribcage. She did not seem to be in terrible discomfort, and the puffiness went away. I'm so glad there wasn't an emergency trip to the vet last night. She forgets that intrepid souls sometimes get ouchies. Bless her little heart.

On stingrays, wellbeing and Love & Rockets

Since my musical concluded, I've been going to yoga class religiously. I schlep into town and do my thingy there. The class is nice and quiet. The teacher seems a placid soul and the atmosphere is calming. I love the way my upper back pops when I do a forward bend. Generally, I think of this class as part and parcel of my well-being as I navigate the choppy waters of school and work. Before class Wednesday night, a handful of women were talking about the fact that the teacher is leaving, moving away, and the studio will close upon her departure. I felt saddened by the news. I've been going to yoga very regularly and am seeing a marked improvement on my posture, how I feel and my general outlook, but for the studio to close would mean a personal setback, I thought. On Wednesdays, a guitarist comes in and plays music-- usually Villa-Lobos and the like-- to the class as we pose. Wednesday night, though, I could never seem to banish monkey-mind. Thoughts were swirling about what I would do, now that I'm finally on track with a fitness/wellness routine, now that beloved yoga instructor is folding up her mat and running off to infinitely more attractive San Francisco. I'll miss her. What'll I do? Then the guitarist did the most unlikely thing: he played Saudade from Love & Rockets' debut album. I was in some supine pretzelian distortion and I fancied I heard something familiar. I heard the first few tones and doubted my senses. Could this be? Is he playing one of my favorite guitar tracks? No! Surely not! I remembered hearing that this band was releasing an album and going to the record store to pre-order a copy, and they called me when it arrived, about 1985. Love & Rockets. Saudade. When Metamorphosis records called and told me my record had arrived, I shot off like a bullet to collect my prize. Back home, I reverently peeled the cellophane from the (vinyl!) album's dustjacket and slid the disk onto my cheap record player to give it its maiden listen. Such placid joy sprang forth. Hearing Saudade in the class Wednesday so hot on the heels of news of such great impediment to my tranquility, I knew nonetheless all would be well, all would sort itself out. Things don't always work themselves out in a way that we would most prefer, but one way or another, they do work out. I don't have the distance to sense the order to this elaborate, brocade wallpaper, but I know there is some order at work there, and this is a comfort. Here's to keeping soft knees and going with the flow. All is well.

Random post about my parents.

I'm thankful for a great many things. I'm thankful I live in a place where I-- as a rapidly-hurtling-into-middle-age woman-- can go to college with the prospect of starting a whole new career where I may thrive and make enough money to put by for myself in old age. I'm thankful for my dear little dogs who make each day an absolute joy. Any day I wake up with them and go to sleep with them was a good day. Any night when I rouse to find one glued to each side was a night of warmth and contentment. They are my babies and for them I am truly thankful. And finally and most importantly, I'm thankful for parents who are so remarkable and brilliant, and yet have always taken the time to tell me how special I am, and that nothing to which I aspire is beyond my grasp. I do hope to have as much belief in myself as do my Mom and Dad. Thus were born the seeds of any confidence I might ever have in life. May every girl born from here forward know the same.

98 F bloody degrees on April 25??

Seriously?

And last week an army of caterpillars ate much of the fruits of my labors on potted plants. I think my first nursing assignment is going to be somewheres else.


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Less of a stretch than you might think.

This is my summation on Old NFO at the NRA Convention: Three guys are standing on the balcony at the Vatican, the middle one in some sort of white dress thingy. One guy down in the plaza says "who are those guys?" and another man replies "I don't know who the guy in the middle is, but on his left is Red Adair and that guy on his right is Old NFO."

sorry for the light posting

I haven't even given you the big wrap-up on the NRA convention, but finals are coming up quickly and I have a tremendous amount of material to cover with my studies. I'll be back on track soon.

Mani Monday: nails that shine like justice. Or some such.

Thoughts of friends.

A couple I know-- dear friends-- have a little boy who fractured his skull this weekend. Relatively speaking, his injury is not remotely as bad as it might have been, but just the same, it's scary to have a little one injured and hurting. He's in the hospital at least through tomorrow, and my thoughts are with the whole family right now.

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: lapwarmers.

Here the pups are helping me study my Psychology material for school. Actually, it's remarkable what a soporific effect they have on me, but if I sit in the recliner with a book, they absolutely insist on cozying up to me. That's alright with me, too.