October 26th, 2015

2013, cyd, new

To have a bagel, or not to have a bagel.

It's 1:13am. I haven't decided if I'm going to sleep tonight. I'm stuck on the bagel thing and can't move on until that is settled.

Um, to read about what a FABULOUS gift-giver Kelli is, go here. I keep all of my Facebook posts "public" so you don't have to be a "friend" to read them. There's also a "fan" page here, which is really just a place for me to show off my mad Photoshop skillz. And post when new Patreon Patron posts go up, which usually feature a new piece of art I am particularly proud of, with a desktop version to download. And some mumbling about some existential thing or other.

It's a worthwhile subscription, and it's only going to get better. The new website will have special places and features for Patrons only. Things like, years of handwritten journals, scanned in, as is, psychotic to calm handwriting and all. I have 30 journals I'm working on scanning in. There will also likely be a proper cam gallery from the old days for the first time since the events. And just for fun, maybe special PDFs of poetry and art to download.

And there was a fleeting thought about digital coupons for Patrons in the PRH store. I think the plug-in I'm using supports such things. I also want to install a chat feature on my site for Patrons, but I need more than three people spread all over the planet in different time zones. More people are required to build a community around my art. I am ready for people to see me. I am ready to uncover myself and let my wings float back to rest behind me for a while and show myself. I've had them wrapped around myself for so long . . .
2013, cyd, new

I'm such a damn gurl sometimes.

I'm sitting here weeping. Full-on, snot-nosed, tear-streaming, sobbing. Boomer is snuggling against my knee. Sai Sai is tucked into my other leg. I was just sitting here, petting Boomer, telling her the story of Evie's short time with us. She followed us home two weeks after Jack ran away, and never left. She got bit by a black widow, let out a couple of yowls, was found on the other side of the block, dying in someone's lawn and Doc brought her home, where she died a few hours later. We had her love for maybe two years. Not nearly long enough for such an incredible cat. She was smart. She was wise, matronly. Bagira has taken over her motherly duties with the ferals in the neighborhood.

Boomer was my "get over Evie" cat. I just wasn't dealing well. So I picked out a cat that looked nothing like any of our others. She's jumpy, she sees things no one else sees (I fully believe she hallucinates visually and audibly), she only likes me, and Chewbacca. She grooms him. He doesn't know what to do with that. He only wants attention from me and Doc. She sneaks onto my lap whenever she gets a chance. She looks me in the eyes. My other cats don't really do that. But she does. We will gaze into each other's eyes for several seconds at a time. I feel so in touch with her, her fears, her slow but steady adaptation to the environment here, the trauma she has survived in her past life.

So I sat here with my cat, communing and weeping and sloppily talking to her about her late sister. When I was done talking, she meowed at me. She usually does when I complete my soliloquies to her. And she has the sweetest, highest, yet softest meow. There's a video of her meowing at youtube's Circus Catimus channel, in fact. I love this cat so much. On one of the paintings I did this summer, there is a hidden Boomer paw print.

I found one of my Ana Voog CDs today. I'm afraid to play it because I'm afraid I won't like it anymore. My musical tastes have changed quite a bit since the early 00's. But I don't know if that is real change, or change brought about by listening to the same 500 songs for 10 years. That can get to a person. 2013 was the first year in ten that I added to my playlist anything less than 15 years old. Sorry, that's a lot of maths. I was trapped in the 80's. There, I said it.

What was I going to say?

Oh yeah, gossip. Evil Man has scrubbed his online presence (I'm curious to know how he did it), started up an Online Reputation Repair service website that I can't give you the link to because it is his damn name, and replaced the picture of him, his ancient father, and toddler son with a picture of him, his father, and an infant girl. WTF? He took down all of his fake credentials, which I kind of saw coming a month ago when last I checked in on him. Someone who had known him during the same time I did started posting questions on his wall about when exactly he went to Berkeley State and such calling out nonsense. When I saw that and read his posts about he and his girlfriend (notice he still isn't married, and he's got two kids with two different mothers that we know of now) being stalked online, I decided to stay far away until I had gotten myself a VPN, just in case he had skillz to back up his "hacking" (DRINK) claims. Now there is this REALLY rudimentary website up with a stock photo, vagueness and no contact info for potential customers. It's a complete dummy site. He has one link out from it, to his "in house designer" who did some unknown, non-descript logos in the 90's and a bunch of nude Picasso-esque paintings in the time since. Her site is so L33T that you can barely read the pale blue type on the glaring white background. It is unimpressive. The most unimpressive thing about the whole situation is that neither site is a Wordpress site. You would think a man with skillz would see the value in doing his business site in Wordpress. And even I now see the benefit of artists using Wordpress. But no. Basic of basic HTML. I didn't check the source, but I can pretty much promise that there was no CSS or PHP or any other bells and whistles going on, either. The only worry I have is that with the timing of my appearance on his linkedin profile, and the stalker, he will think the two are connected. And I Googled myself. On page 3 the connection between Cydniey and my birth name is made. Facebook fucked me. And the whole "online reputation repair" thing just makes me laugh. I totally see him as a Brian Glicklich (Limbaugh's PR guy and online reputation guy, he trolls and doxes for $900 an hour) bully boy seeing conspiracies everywhere and lying through his teeth to his clients to keep the money coming in while still feeding on the weak in a supposed hunt for "victimizers" of his clients. Just wait until Peeple comes out, bud, you'll have your hands full.

So, there's the gossip. Oh, no, one more. The guy who used to stalk me, when I first got together with Doc, and had a lot to do with my deciding to be a web cam gurl, finally got a Facebook account. He looks the same. He will always look the same. He will age like Iggy Pop, he will just melt into old age so you can't really see it happen, you can only see it if you compare pictures from the past to the present. He has many female friends. I hope he has grown out of that creepy guy phase and calmed down a little, maybe gotten some treatment. There was a nice guy inside, but there was a dangerously pathetic man outside that scared me.

I got one of my shirts tonight. The fabric is very thin. It seemed a bit short, but it just got caught up on my tatas. I pulled it down, it climbed back up. The sleeves with the lace are great. But I couldn't keep it down over my fucking tits. So, it goes to Kelli, who has better control over her body parts and is thinner than I, which will help. The shirt will hang loosely on her in a really flattering way. And the lace is done in a kind of flowy way, so she'll likely wear it dancing. Now I just wait until my pirate blouse comes, and if it is acceptable, I get to put money aside for a few weeks to get the two dresses and the pirate skirt and harem pants that I want. $48 plus shipping, which they calculate when you order. It's sent from China, so it's pretty much wadded up in as small a plastic package as humanly possible. They're getting a good review from me. Not a raving review, but a good review. I try to give mediocre reviews, pointing out both positive and negative, because people so often only post extremes of one or the other. I do a positive followed by a negative. "It took forever to get here, but they emailed me and warned me that it would." or, "The fabric is much thinner than expected, but it hangs so elegantly." That kind of thing. "Sizes run a bit small, but once you know that, you can adjust your shopping easily enough." And don't mention the sweatshops! This blouse likely came from the same factory that made Chewy's Biker Vest. Yeah, that came from China in 10-25 days, too. I just realized all of the clothes I'm ordering or wanting to order could be used for cosplay. I could do Benny and Joon cosplay, I've got the crazy down. How odd of me. I really don't know what has brought this on. I washed my miniskirts today. I have two. Im going to send Doc to the thrift store with a piece of string that is exactly half the circumference of my hips (where I wear bottoms, I do not acknowledge my waist, I gave that up when I got my first belly button piercing infection). Then he can find skirts he likes, measure them, and if they meet the string test, he can bring them home to me. Dress me up. No one is going to see me. There may be more selfies, as I learn to use the timer on my camera.

I have come to realize that Doc is not going to be my willing photographer outside for a new set of pictures. I'm going to have to set up the shot, set up the props, set up the timer, and run my ass off and pose. Magic.

Wow, did I get talkative. I have a tutorial to do. Very challenging. A couple of hours for intermediate to expert. It's a psychedelic gig poster a la San Fransisco, circa 1968. You know what I'm talking about. We've all seen them for Joplin and the Doors and Hendrix. Well, there's going to be one for Fabulous Disaster, and no, I don't mean the redneck band. No, they can't be rednecks, they use the word Fabulous. Ill have to look into that.

Okay, time to get up, stretch, smoke, refresh my coffee, get ready to do this thing. Its 3:24am. I have three hours to complete and move on to physical art before Doc gets home and I give him the computer for a few hours. And I want to finish the poster with plenty of time to post it to Patreon (Patrons only) and promote that fact. Time to work. At least I got the dishes clean, I would have bet I couldn't do it. But I did. We trashed it proper this weekend. We really did.
2013, cyd, new

#FreeArt #ChristmasCard #Art #Holidays

I celebrate Yule. I recognize a variety of holidays at the end of the year. I've picked Christmas this year. I will be hand making, unique to each person, Christmas cards for 50 people and mailing them out. For Free. Not limited to my friends. If you want a piece of art, a very cool technique base with mixed media embellishments, subtly signed and dated, simply email me a mailing address for you to xmas@zenweb.net with something in the subject line that clues me in so it doesn't get lost. This is limited to 50 people (well, 40 now), open until Nov. 15. So get your addy to me quick like a bunny (oops, wrong holiday). I won't use either your email addy or your mailing addy for nefarious purposes or sell them or lend them or send you strange get-rich-quick schemes. Just pretty art. Everyone loves art.
2013, cyd, new

My tweets

2013, cyd, new

Some kind of social commentary at the end

I'd like to take this time to thank the Universe, Freya, Thor and the gang for keeping things quiet for the last little while. No catastrophes, no crises. Nice, smooth sailing.

I did some basic Swedish history reading and found out that most of the Swedish Vikings did not travel west (only 25% of Sweden's coast line faces west), they traveled east, and then overland to rivers and basically settling and building western Russia and Ukraine. They were known in their travels as the "Rus". Lots of trading and colonizing and settling and assimilating and melding in and very little pillaging. The few that went west with the Danes and the Norweigians were also "settler" minded more than "conquer" minded and went as far as Scotland to find new places to live (okay, well, actually they came this way, played around in Greenland for a while and went back to Europe). So, yay for Swedish Vikings not being the evil creatures that Vikings have been portrayed to be all of these years. Next, I get into the mythology. Far more fascinating than anything pagan Greece or Rome ever gave us, I'm really excited to start reading the legends.

So wow, my people settled Russia. Though my Swedish name is not at all common in Russia, I have no proof it was used by my great grandparents in Sweden, just here, so it could have been assigned to my Great Grandfather when he arrived. Until I have discretionary cash enough to get a month's worth of Ancestry.com, it will remain a mystery to me. And that won't be for a while.

And why is that, you ask? Because I got one of my new shirts/blouses yesterday. And I'm going to buy (with a couple of size alterations) the clothes I want from that Rose Wholesale place in China. I am happy enough with them, and not surprised by their deficits. Those dresses and that skirt will look great with my new boots that are on the way. And the harem pants are just for lounging around the house, because I hate sweats, so I'm going to go get the largest size they have and just take in the waist if I need to.

Today, with the Doctor Who Nativity Scene on my mind, I asked Doc if one could still purchase small wood scraps from Home Depot. He started freaking out on me. Why did I put this kind of pressure on him? How was he supposed to get lumber home on his bike? What was I trying to do to him? Didn't I realize he was buying his chainsaw on a stick online because he couldn't figure out how to get it home from the store? How stupid was I? And how incredibly rude that I would try to put something on him like this, he tried to do everything for me and it was never enough.

I did not burst into tears. I came really close, but I didn't break. I just went outside and had a cigarette, leaving the sketch of the small "barn" on the couch. While I was outside, I decided I could build the barn out of cardboard, I had brown spray paint, I just needed some moss to spread around. And maybe some sand, which I could get from the back yard. It's not like it was going to be an heirloom.

At some point, he must have glanced at the sketch and remembered my desire to have a Doctor Who nativity with the paper dolls Kel sent me. Which would make it small (hence the part of my query regarding "small scraps of wood"), with pieces he could fit into his rucksack. He tried to talk to me about it. I wasn't having it. Not after his explosion. He tried to turn it around on me and say that I asked him for lumber from home depot, which was a bald-faced lie, and I stopped talking completely. Didn't even stand up for myself. Then he said it was my fault for talking to him when he got off work because his brain was scrambled and I should know better.

When he gets up, it's my fault for talking to him when he's just woken up, his brain is scrambled. So, if we don't talk on the weekends, we don't talk. Except these little exchanges like the one above. Non-stop fun!

So, I'm going to take me that big box out in the garage that got rained on but dried okay, and make myself a shallow barn, and a rudimentary manger. I wish I had a couple of My Little Ponies or unicorn dolls to be the camels. The Daleks will be the wise men. I don't know who the shepherds will be, yet. 10 and Rose will be Joseph and Mary. Various monsters will be the farm animals. Haven't decided on the baby Jesus, yet. It may just be a Fez. Once I populate it and spread some moss around, it will look pretty good. I'll have glued sand to the base, and some rocks. It would be cool if I could get just a little hay and thatch the roof. It will only be about 5" deep. It's just an open structure with a peaked roof. Fashioned after the wooden one my mom has.

In college, Kel and I had PeeWee's Playhouse toy set as our nativity scene, at a Catholic University, and still won the Xmas decorating contest. I have always loved my mom's traditional set, she used to chase me around to keep me away from it. I would, given the opportunity, play with it for hours, never touching the blessed baby, I didn't give a lick about him, I wanted to play with the people and animals. She couldn't keep me away from it. But even then, I was always reimagining it. Barbie, Ken, and their mysterious baby was my first idea. I thought my mom's head would explode. I thought it was a good statement on how commercial Christmas was (my parents tried to shield me from the radical 70's but, no, they couldn't). I was 7. It was time for Barbie to earn her keep. It was still more than a year before she would get her hair chopped off and become Luke Skywalker.

I'm watching Scorpion, and it looks very much like Walter, not thinking straight for some reason I missed, has just murdered Toby. This doesn't sit well with me. They have 48 minutes, minus commercials to work this shit out.

The CSI:Cyber Drinking Game has gotten completely out of hand. One of us says one of the trigger words and the other shouts "DRINK" right in the middle of the sentence. What have I done? Oh, and I can't find where I wrote down the rules. Facebook ate the entry, as they tend to do. I have to add a few now that the new season is on with a new character, played by Ted Danson. Every time he says something incomprehensible, drink. Every time Avery changes her hair in an episode, drink. And so on.

Okay, so Scorpion got an extra half an hour tonight, so they are pretending to kill everyone off, one at a time. Fun game. When is Doctor Who on again? Oh, that's right, Doc talked all through this week's episode, I can queue that up and watch it On Demand. Since I just made a fresh pot of coffee, I may as well.

Let's assess Bollux's failure while I was working on Photoshop the other night. I had Photoshop open, and ACDSee7, and Chrome which was running a tutorial on youtube. I opened an 11x14 inch 300dpi document, and within 10 minutes, Bullox shut off. So, I'm going to say it was the document size/resolution.

No Scorpions were killed in the making of this silly show you can't stop watching.

Now, Bullox's most recent failure. I was listening to a relatively short playlist on Windows Media Player, only had one screen on, and was surfing the web for moss. And *click* goes Bollux, and all is dark and silent.

So, no big documents, no youtube/Photoshop mashups, no Windows Media Player. I think that covers it. I can transfer the playlist to Drone, my headphones will easily reach. The big documents thing, well, maybe now isn't the right time to get into poster making. Maybe I should stick to InDesign and the Blurb plug-in and my book right now and lay off the digital art. I've just turned up recordings of poems I can't find archives of. That is very very bad. That NEEDS to be sorted. With luck, Libre Office and Adobe InDesign will get along and not tax the video card.

Does anyone know why it takes Windows Defender the same amount of time to scan my computer as it would take me?

Yeah, I had to tweet that. I finally broke 1,000 Twitter followers. And I'm now above the margin of error. Your tally varies by a few from day to day. I'm in the teens, so it's more likely that I will stay above 1,000 now. Yay. You need at least 10k to be taken seriously by anyone. With 1k, you can't even buy a rejection. You just get ignored. You know why I have no rejection letters? I always get accepted. No. I don't. But people don't bother rejecting you anymore. They ghost you. The interaction never happened. Everyone just keep on dancing, don't break the chain. And its easy for Gen X to echo our parent's hopeful advice, "Well they weren't worth your time, anyway." Yeah, but it's Everyone, Ma. Personal, professional. Everyone is so offended and so afraid of offending that it's easier to just find a dark corner to fade into until you are forgotten. Gen X takes that personally, the following youngins, not so much, they do it too. They have no concept of closure. But we are effected by it, even if we find ourselves doing it, we question it all the way. We need closure. We need a yes or no. To the point where a lot of us are just as happy to get a "no" as a "yes" because human contact. You can ask all the questions you want hen you're nobody. But you don't start getting answers until you're someone, even someone known for hearing "no". At least you're known.