Thursday, October 11, 2012

CONTENTS: Winnebago, bear, pony, towels

     It's pretty chaotic and exhausting, trying to box up 18 years worth of living in one place. You accumulate so much stuff, and it's hard to organize it in a way that makes sense.
     When we first started packing things up in preparation for the move, I was trying to keep like things together, with labels such as, "SHEETS AND BLANKETS," or, "FAMILY PHOTOS & MEMORABILIA." But after a while I just kept dragging more and more stuff out of cupboards and drawers and closets, and it seemed to make less and less sense, organizationally speaking.
     Which is how I ended up with this box:


Wednesday, October 10, 2012

NEW HOME

     My husband and I just moved from a rental condo in Orange to a house we can call our own in Anaheim. 4 bedroom, 2 bath, about 1,350 square feet, air-conditioning, new paint and carpeting and tile, nice big back yard...
My handsome husband standing in the front yard waving, with a halo/nimbus of saintly light above his head. (Actually the porch light)

Here's me in the kitchen which has obviously been newly remodeled. The house is a flip, which is nice. But I am totally unworthy of that nice kitchen.

This is a wall in the dining nook, and that little brick cubby is a witch-burning oven. (Actually the realtor said it's a pizza oven, but that's not scandalous enough.)

These are the first things things I brought to the new house when it was officially ours: an avatar for each of us. The robot is Anthony, the okapi is me.


Tuesday, September 18, 2012

ART : Old Handmade Stickers

     When we first began the long and spread-out process of packing in preparation for moving, I came across some old DIY stickers I'd made for one of my first comics conventions. I printed them at home on sticker paper and cut them out by hand. I remember it was VERY difficult to peel the paper backing off, and I kept apologizing to anyone who bought them. This was in the very early 2000s, and home printable stuff has improved a LOT since then.
I still like the odd shape of this one. And I don't know what kind of animal or thing I intended that to be.

This one is like a weird Skelebunnies tribute to Edward Gorey.

Monday, September 17, 2012

DOODLE-DOO : Meeting doodle

     This morning we had our usual weekly classified staff meeting in the main office, and I took the following notes on my agenda:
It is important to pay attention.


Saturday, September 15, 2012

IN THE DREAMHOUSE : Daycare Time Travel Improv


              This was a significant dream because of the way it followed me into wakefulness, with no clear line between the subconscious and conscious mind.
              I was dreaming in the early hours before I woke up, influenced obviously by watching episodes of “Abby & Brittany,” the documentary/reality show about conjoined twins who work as student teachers with elementary school kids.

Abby and Brittany. I love these girls.

              My sister and I were working at a day care center, and organizing a play with the kids. I don’t know what my “sister” looked like, and we weren’t actually conjoined. But we were making occasional asides to a documentary film crew, explaining what we were doing with the kids. That’s why I’m sure it was influenced by Abby & Brittany.
              We were going to need to use water in the play, because there were scenes by a river, and something about carrying a bucket of water, so my sister and I had hired a man and a woman who were water technicians so we could have real water in the play.
              The water techs came in with all this equipment, and I told them they could set up in the bathroom. Apparently real water is very complicated.
              The kids were all sitting in a group on the floor, and my sister and I were walking around them, asking comprehension questions, to make sure they understood why the water techs were there, and that they all understood their parts in the play. Their parents were there, too, on the sidelines. Then we had a break so they could all work on props and costumes and stuff. I was narrating for the film crew how nice it was to see the parents and kids all doing their part. For example, a black boy was ironing a purple shirt for a costume, under the direction of his father. I was very impressed that a father and son were willing to do ironing. (It wasn’t significant that he was black, I just thought I’d mention that because I was pleased to note our daycare center was at least somewhat ethnically diverse.)
              We started doing run-throughs of the script, and getting into the concepts in the play. It was a time travel story, with at least one scene in settler times, hence the rustic water bucket.
              One of our littlest charges, a tiny little girl with a pixy haircut, was narrating for that weirdly omnipresent documentary film crew (a la Abby & Brittany) how her directions were to act out a time travel scene on the street, and if a passerby came into the shot, she was to pull them into the scene with her, and hopefully get them to improv with her. She was like Dakota Fanning or something, eerily mature for her age.
              My perspective in the dream shifted, and I was suddenly a stranger on the street, and that precocious little actress was dragging me into the scene about a time travel vortex. It was really tricky, because as a stranger I had no idea what the broader context of the story was, any details I could work with. But I decided to go along with it anyway.
              I had been holding some bags or something, like Anthony and I had been out shopping, and he was there with me. I handed him my stuff, plus my wallet and keys for some reason, as if those things would have been impediments to being able to act/improv effectively. As I was handing him all this stuff to hold while I participated in the scene, I said in a hokey stage voice, “Oh, no, the time vortex has ripped all my identification away from me! If I die in some past era, no one will know who I was!”

Every daycare play needs a T-Rex.

              Somewhere around this point in the dream, I was waking up. There was a perfectly seamless transition between dreaming and day-dreaming, though. It took me a few moments lying there in bed completely awake before I thought, “Why am I day-dreaming all this weird shit about a time travel improv?” And then I realized that my brain had continued the dream from sleep to wakefulness. I’ve never had a transition as seamless as that before, I can’t even explain how weird it was. Usually you wake up and the dream evaporates, and you maybe remember some of it, but your brain doesn’t just keep going. It’s like somebody forgot to say “cut!” and my brain just kept the film rolling. I even turned off my alarm while I was trying to come up with dialogue for the scene. I really wanted to work dinosaurs in, but wasn’t sure if the kids had the budget for that.
              Anyway, before my brain finally said cut! we finished the scene, and the film crew were all so delighted with my brilliantly comedic performance that they begged me to keep filming with them. But I knew Anthony wanted to continue shopping, rather than hang out with these complete strangers, and I didn’t want to hog the children’s spotlight, so I demurred. For the sake of the children.
              They were like, “How will we explain your character’s absence now?”
              I suggested they have the very next scene begin in dinosaur times with the little girl at a makeshift grave for me, because I DID in fact die! Isn’t that funny? For some reason in the dream/day-dream it was, like, SUPER funny.
              Anyway, that’s about when I was awake enough to realize I didn’t have to figure out how to explain my character’s absence in their stupid time travel daycare improv.
  

Sunday, September 9, 2012

PUSSY RIOT

     I wonder if people really care that much about the plight of the Russian feminist punk band "Pussy Riot," or if the news agencies are constantly writing about them just for the sheer thrill of putting something as vile as "PUSSY RIOT" in headlines. Not to mention being able to pair it with "PUTIN."
     I know that if their band's name were "Dung Nuts" instead, Madonna would certainly not be writing "FREE DUNG NUTS" on her arms and flashing it for concert photo ops.
Like her arms weren't disturbing enough already.

Friday, August 17, 2012

DOODLE-DOO : a random work doodle

"Registration Beast," #2 pencil on notebook paper, by Tommy Kovac 
     Today was the second day of registration for the new school year, in which I'm stuck standing at my library counter all day initialing paperwork crap, taking library and textbook fine money, handing out library donation flyers, and selling combination locks for their stupid book lockers. It was pretty busy, but occasionally there was a brief lull in which I had to occupy myself.