I don't know if you remember, but I sure do: about a year ago, I swore that the next costume I made, I would be proud of from head to toe, front to back.

THIS IS NOT THAT COSTUME.

This costume is about a step up from duct tape. Everything was quite nearly a disaster (and some things were beyond so), but ngmaster managed to make the pictures come out pretty freaking awesome anyway.

The day pretty much went as such:

Me: OMG WTF NO
ngmaster: It's okay.
Me: OMG WTF I KNOW THAT BUT IT'S NOT BECAUSE I CAN'T GET THIS ON MY GIGANTIC HEAD
ngmaster: Don't worry about it.
Me: OMG WTF. THIS IS TERRIBLE.
Both: We'll do a shoot as Robin with her hair down. BRILLIANT.
- the shoot occurs -
ngmaster: I told you not to worry.
Me: OMG WTF I KNOW BUT ... POST PICTURES SOON DAMMIT I SUSPECT THEY MAY BE COOL.



( more rockin' robin photos )

p.s. the wig and extensions I bought are still not here.

I'm not exactly thrilled with these, but I'm not horrified either.

( out of eighty, few )

Summary: I visited kurthy133. I shocked her by getting cityfolk to actually say hello. I love food. I'm only half as lost as I think I am. The cake was only four inches tall this time, but it was still good.

People often think I am more than a little crazy to move in a direction where the cost of living is so much higher than the Midwest, but the East Coast has something in it that draws me near; it is an attraction that exists only once in the Midwest for me, as Lake Michigan. It is a little strange that I find myself attached to the earthiness of a place. I am not a "nature person" by any means. I generally prefer exposure in controlled doses, minus mosquitoes, where I can find some place comfy and with food afterward.

( one more )

I love the folded, layered rocks of this state. There is nothing like this in the Midwest, though we once had some icicles hanging off our house eaves that came close. I have been eying the area where this formation occurs for two winters now. I took these shots in color, but I barely made it there while the sun was still up, and so the photos felt like nothing special. I switched them to black and white, which improved them somewhat.

Unfortunately, I can think of no way to get either detailed photos or one of the entire ice area. It is located on a narrow, twisted road and it forms one side of a blind curve. I cannot take more than five steps to either side of where I stood, for the "driveway" was actually a bridge crossing a small creek that runs through the valley, and there is no shoulder on either side to speak of. The risk of getting smashed flat is just too great.

Reading knowledge of one foreign language upon entry.

Errr, I need to be able to read Japanese by January 15th. Any suggestions?

I worked at Michael's last night (permanent part time, check! Pass evaluation with flying colors, check! Get 25 cent raise, check!). I noticed a young man repeatedly looking at me from the door, which is a fair distance. Being nearsighted, I couldn't tell who he was, but I didn't spend much time pondering it. Now, when I moved here from the Hoosier Homeland, I fully expected to leave most of high school behind me. So it is no surprise that I was absolutely floored when said person came over to the register and turned out to be someone I went to high school with, and still more amazed that he lives - you guessed it - here. In fact, he lives a stone's throw from my neighborhood. We exchanged emails.

The problem ...? I can't remember his name!

...

Lately I've been on a D. Gray-Man kick. Volume 12 of the Viz release was supposed to be out in January, so I hopped on over to the bookstore on the 3rd or so, only to find that it wasn't there at the beginning of the month like it usually is. It didn't show up until around the 30th. I guess "January 2009" does mean the whole month ...

I was horrified to discover that the next installment is due in April. How ... how could I wait that long? There was no way! Unable to accept such a delay, I found a scanlation and spent most of today ignoring the Superbowl catching up. I gotta say, I'm fangirling hard for Kanda right now (if he dies ... ack! Can't think about it!). I didn't like him at first (standard cranky samurai guy?), but he grew on me ... I have a soft spot for characters who always come through. And my oh my, he just gets hotter with every passing page, which doesn't hurt!

There are two downsides to D.Gray-Man, as far as I'm concerned. The quality of the art varies greatly at times, but what's worse is that the dang series is on hiatus!

Surprisingly, changing medication has helped a good deal for general day to day living (I hope this lasts). I don't feel continually bone tired and fall over exhausted (I really hope this lasts). My mother also says I sound better and more confident, although I'll have to take her word on that one, as I seem to be utterly incapable of hearing the tone of my own voice. I feel "okay" now, except for when I think about what I want to do/upcoming months/job searching. Then I get the feeling that I am totally, utterly and completely screwed, and I have no idea how to make it any better. Oh God, oh God, not enough money, oh God, stupid bleeping economy, oh God, I can't wait, I can't wait. There may be a shut window ahead of me, but I have to keep on flying to somewhere.

Sometimes I wonder if it's normal that I'm actually happy to see it snow.

And now, doodles!



I'm glad I know the little demented things in the world.

( a couple of outfit doodles as well )

Were you waiting? Room through room, breathing, never speaking. We play with glances, with pace, the sound of your steps, my movement in the next room. We slowly dance through old Italian art, golden through age. I was waiting.

She asked me about goals I had, those vague constructs or hopes known as "long term." Did I want to be married? No. Have kids? No. Then ... what?

Beyond taking care of immediate tasks, I've never really had anything specific planned out for myself. For many years, I never thought that I would make it "this far," though the reasons for that varied. Sixteen once seemed so far away! I never thought I would manage to live this long. When did I make it here? At times, all I wanted was just to get to the "next step" ... get to college. Get out of college. Get out of the Midwest.

In the end, about all I really want in life is a historic home, a cat, a job that doesn't mentally hurt and money enough to keep this small sanctuary stable. Beyond that, I go into extremely vague things, like "being alive is nice," or "I'd like to travel more," or things that aren't really goals, such as "I want to have lots of books."

In terms of occupation, I have been long confused.

I was raised as one of the best and the brightest. It was not uncommon for my classmates and I to hear that we were the best students that had come along in years. Now, nobody cares whether I'm brilliant or not, and I have had to adjust my expectations of how the world should treat me. It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that I am average in many ways. Sometimes I still feel guilty that I am somehow not/no longer a "young leader," or the hopeful embodiment of the "future," instead, I am just another human being with small aims. It took me longer still to accept that my degree, which was supposed to open so many doors to me, accomplished nothing. Yet I am still touchy about it, as a truth my supervisor delivered ("I'm better educated than you") struck deeper than it should.

I worked with the school paper and creative magazine in high school, and from that developed my original career goal: to get into publications. The newspaper industry was already crumbling, and it never quite seemed to stabilize, so over time, I began to hope for finding work with a printing company instead. From the beginning, I was well aware that I lacked the temperament necessary for freelance work, and since then, I have become increasingly pressured by a need for health insurance. I was good at graphic design and layout, or at least, I was better than my peers. I was, as I learned later, a "big fish" in a very small pond. Now, I continually question the value of my decision. There were other dreams in my heart by the end of college, so why did I stick with this one?

First and foremost, I was, and am, terrified of my lack of money.

I was not ready to continue immediately into graduate school. I was painfully depressed and probably emotionally stunted, although I had matured somewhat.

I was continually incensed by people saying to me, "when you get to the real world ...", as if the breath I had drawn up to then was merely play.

Though I could not articulate it at the time, I had no sense of identity other than as a student, and was desperate to prove to myself that I could do something other than "school," somehow showing that it did not define me.

So I made the choice because I wasn't ready for the next step, and without that resolve, I had no strength to face money, scholarships, and debt.

Lately, I've come to think that I am capable of doing many things. I have certainly survived Cave Inc. much longer than I thought I could. It just happens that for better or for worse, I function very well in an academic environment. The schedule suits, the people are more like me in both habit and mind, I am usually interested in what I am doing, and the results of my work are usually top-notch (unless I am depressed and contrary, i.e., first college research paper, which tanked spectacularly, especially because I had to present the damn thing). Having finally created a self that does not require a good grade for value, having finally begun to face my depression ... I am stronger now. Why should I be ashamed of going back to what I am good at? If it is my world, then it is real enough, for I am alive just as anyone else is.

I've heard a lot of hints (and flat out statements) over the years that I'm in the wrong line of work. Back in college, anyone who wanted to get a B.F.A. over a B.A. needed to pass an "examination" before the faculty. I mostly wanted the B.F.A. for the extra letter because I had ideas it would make me more competitive later on. The faculty, however, told me straight out that I should give up on it and go to school for art history, and write, for that was my true skill. I had recently written a paper on Hokusai, and the chair said something to the effect that after reading it, he was blown away. The B.F.A., he said, would only be a distraction.

And lately at work, where I have been training staff on the thinkpad computers, many people have told me that I should be a teacher. A customer at Michael's told me that I had the temperament for it. (This is, however, only true when I am not PMSing.) These comments are honest ones, not drawn out by me in any way.

While I think academia is probably in my future, I need to think further on where I'd like to take this. Would I like to teach, doing research/writing on the side? Or would I prefer to go through a program that allows me to indulge my love for art and yet gives me more practical skills, like preservation or something pertaining to museums?

I also do not know when this process may begin. Perhaps in the next couple of years? I should set some sort of timeline, for I have a feeling that I will always say to myself, "I need to earn more money first," since the costs of higher education are only going to increase. I must also admit I am mortally terrified of the GRE, and fret that I have been out of the system for so long, the system won't let me back into it. I don't want to do the "adult evening classes" route preferred by so many looking to achieve their Masters in Business Administration. I want to delve back in, all the way back in, if I can, and I want to stay lodged in there. The ironically illogical world of professors seems to be the only place my brain gets to work at full capacity. I used to want to be dumber, but now I see that I can only blunt the edge, not remove it entirely. It's better to find some place where I can use what I've got.

( ballpoint pen portrait )

Four days, done with a ballpoint pen taken from a hotel somewhere. Realization: I need a better table and lighting. Her hair got too dark too quickly, mostly because I was doodling while sitting on my bed. I was thus unable to support my arm properly, and wound up using heavier strokes rather than using light ones to build up layers of light and dark. Whoops. I debated going back and painting light in, but figured, if I'm going to take that sort of effort, I'm going to start a new, better doodle worthy of it! I do like her accidental throat tattoo, however, and might turn her into a repeat character of sorts. Perhaps.

...

In good news: my driver's side brake light works now!
In bad news: something they did while fixing the brake light messed up the Super Tomato's already temperamental hatch closure, and it now takes me about five minutes to get it to shut properly. Hrm ...
In amusing news: by gosh, my car really is held together with tape!

I went to Boston. I found a cake that was six inches tall. They called it "gigantic," but I called it "glorious."

( more Boston photos )

( On Amy Lee and The Nightmare Before Christmas )

In summary: get off my damn clay lawn!

( another something orange )

I am suddenly afflicted by a strange, unnatural desire to purchase large, glitter-covered fake flowers. I don't know what I'd do with them. I don't know where I'd put them. And yet ...

It is strange that he should appear in my dreams again, years after I last saw him. I am glad that I probably will never meet him again, for how would I explain this subconscious attachment? It is next to nothing, and yet it remains.

( more photographs )

( that meme thingie )

Anne's interpretation of the "rules" is little more than don't Photoshop yourself, and don't think too hard. This is good, because my brain has been pretty shot this week. I've lately taken to humming songs at work in order to keep my spirits up, and the first time someone caught me at it, I happened to be singing "If Only I Had a Brain" or whatever it is the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz wants. Whenever I sit to write a Relatively Smart and Thoughtful Entry, I zone out and wind up posting nothing at all. I may just sit here and think about it a bit harder, or I may go continue with my second attempt to complete FFXII.

Why is it that every time I replay a Final Fantasy game, my party always ends up with the same characters I used the first go around, no matter how many times I say to myself, "Anne! You shall use So-and-so this time!"

Still can't quite figure out why a girl can't get a pair of pants in Ivalice.

I keep on telling myself, "just don't let go of the string."

I think I have the tax thing figured out, and alas, about the only thing I can contest is the "self employed" fee ... which may stay anyway, given how Cave Inc. processed the bonus that year. Though I'm a lot calmer now, it still stinks because out of the money (I think) this is related to, I kept only half to begin with ... and the amount I owe is more than half of that.

( So, on a happier note, I love a parade! )