1927-2006

Coretta Scott King is in our thoughts tonight.

Day Two

We laughed a lot today. I'm exhausted, G'night.

Lesson One, Perspective

I'm taking my mom's mural workshop this week. Today's lesson consisted of perspective and composition. I was VERY intimidated and scared, and not so sure about this thing called 'Perspective.' As it turns out it's not as hard as it seems, though I did have a minor malfunction and almost headed up a mutiny. "Ahhh! This isn't working!!" There was a sudden uprising of voices, but the Captain quelled it; and I realized after I used every last bit of eraser on the pencil, that I was trying to get four evenly converging lines from five points instead of six. Ah-ha! We learned that there is "no such thing as I can't" (at least in the classroom). I believe it now too. I drew buildings today that look just like the pic above. Perfectly in Perspective. Tomorrow we'll start painting. I Love it!! Hell yeah, this rocks!




A little perspective goes a long way. Once again, art imitates life. Perspective? I'm sure I could use that lesson in other areas of my life.

Hollis Gillespie is a brilliant writer. I just love her!! A little about her.... She has a weekly column, “Moodswing,” in the Atlanta Creative Loafing, she’s got a couple of books, and she has commentaries on NPR. She lives in Atlanta and often writes about her friends and things that most Atlantans can relate to; whether it’s a restaurant, or the way some people walk slowly across the street seemingly daring you to hit them while you’re speeding towards them down the road, she coined the phenomena the “asshole stroll.” So appropriate! Her columns start out with her talking about something everyday and normal in her life (though her “normal” may be quite outrageous for some) , and usually ends with some heart-warming or humorous insight. When I pick up the “loaf”, I eagerly flip to her column to hear what she has to say that week, and am hardly ever disappointed. In this week’s column she talked about doing some home renovations and her trip to a big store called the “Sell Out Center”, which sells used furniture and appliances that come from liquidated businesses and such. I loved what she had to say at the end of the column:

“It literally looks like a hundred little planets came crashing to stop in that very spot. I don’t think it hurts to become comfortable in a place like that, as you never know when it might be your world that will end up here. If it does, then that’s all right. Let people pick it over, let them climb the giant carcasses of your past. You are still who you are. You do what you need to do, day by day. You smile or you don’t. You sell out or you don’t.”

Just like this time, I often find her writings to be a bit oracular for me. I often hear something I needed to hear.

Here’s a link to her column,

And her website is here.

Check her out, she’s brilliant!

That's Me

The older I get, the more aware I become of my femininity. I guess I should note that I was a tomboy/rebel/intellectual kid and teen, and realize right now that I’ve actually had only about ten year’s practice at this woman thing. I had boyfriends and such, but they were dirty punks who loved the fact that I drank forties and got rowdy with the best of them. I was somewhat shocked when last week I found myself crying into the brownies I was stuffing into my mouth. I’m surprised I’m even admitting it; because I mostly try to be one of those non-crying people, and then when I do it only lasts a few seconds and I try to wise-up, which I did promptly this particular instance and reminded myself that I was tired and PMSing. Until the last year or so, I’ve never been one of those girls who looks at the magazines and wishes I were like the girls inside, never been jealous of other girls. Every once in a while I catch myself doing so, or complaining about the virtually non-existent pudge that appears at my waist when I sit down. This evening I was munching out, watching some bad reality t.v., feeling sorry for myself between commercials, pining over the image of a god I created (why do we do that?), and one of the scenes before me brought me the utmost relief.

The show was “Beauty and the Geek” , where they pair hot chicks with geeky guys and they compete for money. At an elimination competition one chick was asked what the capital of Iraq was. Squeaky voice: “Ummmmmn…Can you spell that?” Spelled. “Ummmmmn….Afghanistan?” I cringed. There were other examples during the episode too, that showed all the chicks to be brainless. It’s hard to believe that people that daft really do exist. Not knowing what Social Security was, nothing about the current war- are they living under a rock? And if so can I get the address so I can get a boob job and a tan? During the next commercial break I got up and headed to the kitchen to scrounge some more, and I caught a glimpse of myself in my tank top and hip hugging corduroys, my curves, and got the biggest smile on my face. Despite the do-rag and house slippers, I’m the cutest thing. I’m sexy, I’m intelligent, not crazy (ahem), and I’ve got a good life despite the road bumps. And I can laugh at myself for crying in the brownies. At that moment appreciating myself, and my curves, I was reminded of Maya Angelou’s poem “Phenomenal Woman.”


PHENOMENAL WOMAN
by Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion size
But when I start to tell them
They think I'm telling lies.
I say
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips
The stride of my steps
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please
And to a man
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees
Then they swarm around me
A hive of honey bees.
I say
It's the fire in my eyes
And the flash of my teeth
The swing of my waist
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say
It's in the arch of my back
The sun of my smile
The ride of my breasts
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say
It's in the click of my heels
The bend of my hair
The palm of my hand
The need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

This is a really neat story! Antonio from Italy posted this story in his blog. Antonio graciously blogs in both Italian and English, so scroll down for the English version.

So, on behalf of myself and David Hasselhoff I have to appologize beforehand, but for you masochists out there......

check this out

thanks to my bro for this one

After a few weeks of living in my mental sub-terrain, I find myself confident and refreshed. I've got to get back to the person I used to be. I’ve looked over what I’ve been up to lately, and the sum of it is not pretty. I’ve allowed myself to be negative for too long; and I’m sick of my laziness, messiness, the giving up and giving in. I’m also over superficial relationships of all descriptions, and had to separate myself. Subsequently, I have gotten closer to my family, and have learned a little bit about what compassion and love can do for us. I’m at a new beginning, and I feel grateful. Healthy living is becoming a focus, as well as a renewed interest in creative endeavors- writing and painting. It's great to actually take steps to change and not just talk about it. I'm very hopeful and can see this being a really good year for me. Sigh.......(a good one) Life life life

I was just looking at the PostSecret blog, and found this one. I love it!!!!!!



hmmmnn..... art really does imitate life! HaHa

I don't feel tardy....