the woods are full of them

the sound of the wind blowing through redwoods combined with the brilliant sparks of a roman candle against a heady summer night sky

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Happy 3rd birthday, baby blog o' mine! ^_^ 

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Creative type at a desk job = make use of whatcha got. Quick illo inspired by the Hopi Tribe's spirit, Angwusnasomtaka - or "Crow Mother."

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Mammoth gives me strange dreams. Maybe it's the altitude. Every night I dreamed of an ex-boyfriend wanting to get back together. Each night was a different ex-boyfriend. In each dream I felt happy and a certain fondness, or concern for their sadness that we weren't together, but I had no desire to reunite with any of them. (Okay, maybe I felt a little inkling of yearning for one ex in particular). But it's been years since dating any of them. A quick (and determined) google search yielded vague wishy washies; the blind leading the blind. From what I gathered, dreaming of an ex is common - especially when entering/exiting a relationship because it leaves us vulnerable; these dreams are the mind's way of healing itself and working out any pluses/minuses from that relationship. As I'm now heading back to sea level I can only hope my mind's affixed all the band-aids it needs so I can go back to dreaming of the usual zombies and falling from a cliff.

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En tú corazón se acuesta la llave de la ciudad.

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My voodoo high priestess. (Being in a scientific profession means attending boring seminars and advancing my art. One feeds the other. The other is never satisfied.)

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A phrase and a uni•ball pen will do just fine.

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New illos for a new sketch series.

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What do puppahs dream of when they dream their puppah dreams?

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Here are some rare photos of the march on Washington, D.C., fifty years later: http://slate.me/16PhQW0 

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One day I'll start a restaurant...

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Veggiesaurus living in a meaty world.

On a date last night, after having discovered I had inadvertently eaten pieces of a fish flake garnish on our tapas dish: Outwardly: "What?? It's fish? Oh haha, that's funny. No big deal. Yeah no totally it's fine. I'll just finish the squash blossoms haha." Inwardly: "OMG. DON'TFREAKOUTDON'TFREAKOUTDON'TFREAKDON'TFREAK - Okay Okay Okay... It's fine, just don't think of a live slimy fish from the river being shaved by the same razor you use to shave your legs and then eating the shavings - I SAID DON'T THINK OF THAT! I feel sick."

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"Can you love a fool?"

"Can you love a player?"

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Vampire running!

Vampire bats can run, y'all. Super cool slo-mo. 

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What is Happenning in Istanbul?

A painful reminder that not every country has the same basic rights (not that ours are unwaveringly recognized and respected here all the time). Truth. Awareness. Support. Unity. Love... 

To my friends who live outside of Turkey: I am writing to let you know what is going on in Istanbul for the last five days. I personally have to write this because most of the media sources are shu...

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deus ex ipsum

I think, on a larger scale, my anger + grief ripple outward at a much wider circumference - one beyond my sight periphery.

I am angry at God. I am angry at Christianity. I am angry at both for failing to be what I needed them to be. I am angry at both for letting me down + letting the facade give way to a distorted fun-house mirror. For leaving me violated, incensed; duped. For letting people suffer and be abused. For letting evil win over love time + time again. For asking for faith + blind obedience when it is so very undeserved. For being silent, passive when so many cry out in darkness.

I have such hatred and bitterness in my mouth - I can't even get through the first two pages of Conversations With God, a book given to me by an ex-lover on Valentine's Day a year ago and which subsequently spent that year under a stack of junk mail on my coffee table. I can't stand those who feel as though an idea is not from their own mind but rather "God" flowing through them. The human mind is capable of such incredible things.  Humans have created tiny machines that allow the deaf to hear, great big machines that catapult a person into space, a system by which to play a beautiful medley of instruments. How are we not, ourselves, gods by definition? 

Maybe I'm grieving the comfort I had in my blind obedience. Of talking to someone who was supposedly always with me. Maybe I'm secretly jealous of those who are still blind because their lack of sight allows them such great confidence. And I cry as I write this because I think I almost wish the stories were true + I didn't feel so alone in my bitter disappointment. I wish I didn't have to choose between intellect and a god - because when it comes down to it I will always choose the rational power of thought, logic and reason. (Science as a means to explain the world but not understand it.) But the loss is still a loss - and my biggest grief.

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