Decisions, decisions.

We are going to redo our bathroom. And our kitchen too! I just need a steady income first, so ya know, whatever year that happens...

In the meantime we are "redoing" our dining room. By that I mean painting, and taking out the IKEA furniture.

So, we want to brighten up the room since it only has one window that really only gets late afternoon sun. I was leaning towards an orange-y color. Then a yellow-y color. Neither of them were very "bright."

Waiting on the verdict of the bright yellow sample I just painted today. I think my favorite is the golden yellow on the left, it's called "Autumnal."

Autumnal/ Fun Yellow/ Copper Harbor
FYI: The room will be the same color above and below the chair rail. (The beige & red are what we are getting rid of!)

The orange, my daughter's favorite is called "Copper Harbor," but on the wall looks more, "Kraft Macaroni & Cheese." The bright yellow, which I know will brighten the room is called "Fun Yellow." It is bright, but I'm not loving it, apparently I'm a much more muted color person.

Thoughts?

Fun Yellow/ Copper Harbor/ Autumnal

Ars Gratia Artis.

I was in a World Literature college course when I first heard the explanation of ars gratia artis. Art for art's sake.

I have been out of college for over a decade and just finally have I been able to apply it to myself. I always have had a need to make things. To create things. I have been very frustrated with the whole task. I think, after years of pondering, that I know the root of my frustration.

My whole life I have been told to try to make money with my talents/skills. That was always, ALWAYS the underlying motivation. And that is shit. Complete and total shit. "Ooh, you could sell that." "Yeah, I'd buy that." That is the problem. I have been making and creating for others. Not for myself. Not to satisfy my inner need to create. When you stop caring what others think, when you stop looking for feedback, that is when you can just exist as an artist. And I feel overly dramatic and lofty to even call myself an artist, but ya know what? Fuck it. I make art. I am an artist.

So, I have been painting, specifically, water color. I have made at least a painting a day for about four days, yesterday I did two. And I'm proud of them. They won't be on museum walls, they won't even be on my walls, but I made them and I love them. And it feels so good to just make art because I want to; because I need to.

I don't know how to express my drive without sounding ridiculous. But this drive, this need has been with me since I was a child. And just now, at age 35 have I finally discovered how to satisfy it. It's silly, really. It's so obvious, but when you're constantly told that something "should" be one way, you don't even think of it any other way. This applies to many of areas of my life. In some areas, I have cracked the code: I no longer blindly follow my religious upbringing, and I am doing my best to eat intuitively. But when it comes to self expression, the most challenging area for me, it is just that; challenging.

I feel like the few times that I have put myself out there with photography, with words, it's often edited; and therefore, false, not completely false, just, shall we say, a mental reservation.

In my water color paintings, there is truth because, while they are simply still life; mostly fruit, today I did a flower, they are truthful because they are how I want them to be, not how I think they should be for acceptance. 

A Few Non-Related Things.

1. Instagram annoys me. I like the idea of it. What I don't like is how now all of a sudden, everyone is a photographic genius. Not that I am. By any means! But, when I age my photos, I work hard at it. I spend time with it. I work in layers and textures, various gradient maps. Now there's an app for that and I find it annoying.

2. I gave in and purchased the second and third books of The Hunger Games trilogy. Unfortunately, I left the second book at my aunt's shore house. Now I am thoroughly annoyed at myself.

3. In light of #2, I had nothing to read when I took my daughter to our swim club, but I could not swim due to my own personal "red tent" issue. I scanned my bookcase for something to read. I picked up the little book of short stories by Nick Hornby that came with my Ben Folds' CD Lonely Avenue. Nick Hornby is a fantastic writer. Very real, very common man, very enjoyable. I think I will pick up About a Boy since I loved the movie; actually, it's one of my favorites. My theory, I loved the movie, so the book must be amazing! And really, how can you not love this scene!? Seriously. Watch it. Do it right now. You're welcome.

Book Review: The Hunger Games

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

I was very hesitant to read this book. It seems like a lot of the super popular books are always a let down. Twilight? Eh. Only read bits of it online and it seemed horrible. I saw the movie. Didn't much care for it. The Sookie Stackhouse series? I read the first two. Read some of the third and just gave up. I felt like I was reading vampire porn written for tweens. Admittedly, I haven't read Fifty Shades of Grey, and I haven't decided if I will or not, but odds are it will get on my nerves based on some thing I've read on the internet.

I don't really know what possessed me to actually purchase this book. I was in Barnes and Noble, buying a couple of other books and some birthday presents for a three year old, and I just thought, "Eh, it's only $8.99." 

I loved this book. Not in a guilty pleasure way, either. Easy to read without being overly simplistic. Very well written and clever, so imaginative. Honestly, I usually dislike futuristic science-fiction type of stories (unless related to time travel.) I loved reading this book and am uncharacteristically looking forward to reading the other books in the trilogy. (I usually dislike series for some reason.)

I am finished all the books I've had lined up, so now I have to find something else to read. I think I'll have fun checking out this site for some good deals.

Book Review: The House of Velvet and Glass

The House of Velvet and Glass by Katherine Howe

Several factors led me to selecting this book:

1. I really enjoyed Howe's first book, The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane.
2. It is historical fiction.
3. The Titanic plays a role.
4. It is about seeing the future, or scrying.

With all of those things going for it, I am sad to say that I did not love this book. I just didn't. Its start was slow. I think a good amount of pages and superfluous details could have been edited out. The book could easily have been shortened by one hundred pages.

It didn't really pick up for me until the last quarter, things moved quickly then, but still, there were lulls. I also found it to be quite predictable, so that was disappointing too. Overall all, I give it the trendy apathetic, "Meh."

Being a Woman is Fucking Hard

You know you're not supposed to care what other people thing about you. You know it. And sometimes you can apply that knowledge to your life. But sometimes you can't. And those times are rough and fill you with self doubt. And then you get angry because, fuck you, I'm fat. Fucking deal with it.

I do not need canes to maneuver. I can walk up a flight of steps without getting out of breath. I can even buy clothes at Target. Those things considered, it still feels like complete and total shit to discover that you are no longer found attractive. It just flat out hurts.

My dazzling personality, apparently, is no compensation for my extra baggage. In my mind, I'm saying, "Fuck it. Deal with it. Who Cares? I'm worth more than that and you should fucking know that." In my heart, I'm saying, "Ouch."

So, I am embracing my fat even if no one else is. I am not for your viewing pleasure. Don't like how I look? Don't look at me.

Beach Bum.

When I was in about fourth or fifth grade, I read a book about a time traveling brother and sister. I don't remember the details of how they discovered the time travel technique, but it involved staring at a photograph and eventually they were back in the 1950s, when their parents were young.

Ever since reading (and re-reading) that book, I would desperately try to achieve time travel via photograph. Needless to say, that it doesn't work. I wish it did though, I really wish it did.

Joanna Tursi Orfeo, my maternal great grandmother.

Wouldn't you love to sit on the beach with this lady? I mean really! Fully clothed, shoes laced, and not a care in the world. I never met her, but I love her. I think she's the genetic donor of my spontaneity. Ha! I'm so funny.