I recently had the honor of walking at my MFA grdauation. Yeah, I know, I got my diploma back in January, but this was the last part of the ritual, and I'm big on ritual. So I sat in the heat of the SFV morning, listened to Mike Curb (who sounded perpetually stoned) warn me off of the dangers of illegaly downloading music, shook the hand of a faculty member I didn't recognize, and then had waffles with my family. The waffles were, of course, the high point of the morning.
So. Now would be an excellent time for the job offers to start rolling in.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Saturday, May 09, 2009
May 9
You may think I have already lost momentum. But I tell you, it is not so.
My digital camera has been 'borrowed' for a length of time, leaving me with out the ability to be really spontaneous in my postings, but I think that my film work can be just as telling, even if it's more planned.
I took this last month, while in Arcadia. It was processed this week, and I just scanned and edited it today.
When I took this picture, I was just beginning to feel like myself again. Like I was the beautiful person I remembered being, back before I started grad school. Like the dawn over this field of Irises, I felt like I was at the beginning of something wonderful, and full of promise. This specific day was so lovely, I remember, and tinged with a kind of calm, hope laden ecstasy.
And then I came back to LA and life happened and I forgot and the things that seemed so full of promise seemed so complicated.
This image reminds me of all the gold and emerald green that is both inside of me and outside of me. It reminds me to keep these moments in my heart, or moments like it - sunlight and beauty and the sound of my love's voice. These things are the major destinations.
My digital camera has been 'borrowed' for a length of time, leaving me with out the ability to be really spontaneous in my postings, but I think that my film work can be just as telling, even if it's more planned.
I took this last month, while in Arcadia. It was processed this week, and I just scanned and edited it today.
When I took this picture, I was just beginning to feel like myself again. Like I was the beautiful person I remembered being, back before I started grad school. Like the dawn over this field of Irises, I felt like I was at the beginning of something wonderful, and full of promise. This specific day was so lovely, I remember, and tinged with a kind of calm, hope laden ecstasy.
And then I came back to LA and life happened and I forgot and the things that seemed so full of promise seemed so complicated.
This image reminds me of all the gold and emerald green that is both inside of me and outside of me. It reminds me to keep these moments in my heart, or moments like it - sunlight and beauty and the sound of my love's voice. These things are the major destinations.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Also, kung fu joy
Some lovely people have posted video of the Chinese Culture Night at CSUN that the Kienando Elite Team performed at. Please enjoy - especially John's Dai Dao form at the end of number 2. My favorite form in the world - it makes the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0o5OuwthNdQ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMAoVEABOTA&feature=channel
Thanks for looking:)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0o5OuwthNdQ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMAoVEABOTA&feature=channel
Thanks for looking:)
A few more images from Arcadia
Laundry day...
Tiny little egg. About the size of a whopper. The candy. Not the sandwich.
Filthy beasts
See more here - including more pastoral idyl stuff and some actual work:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/brightnewthings/sets/72157616817232883/
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Unexpected Frost
last night took out 6 of the tomatoes and the cucumbers I had planted and mom's squash, plus all of the toms and some peppers I hadn't planted yet. Time will tell if anything will recover, but most look like gonners.
Good news, though. I spotted a tiny little frog with just a wee bit of a tail left in the rain bucket in the orchid house. I know, this brings joy to no one but me, yet that joy is spiritual and profound. So, whatever.
And that raps up spring for you. Back to you, Bob.
Good news, though. I spotted a tiny little frog with just a wee bit of a tail left in the rain bucket in the orchid house. I know, this brings joy to no one but me, yet that joy is spiritual and profound. So, whatever.
And that raps up spring for you. Back to you, Bob.
Friday, April 10, 2009
I want to attempt to tell you about an experience that I had this evening. I may do a shitty job of it. Please bear with me.
I should tell you that the last three days have been gray, dim, wet and cold. I love the rain and wet, but I will be honest - I have a saturation point: All the gray skies have left me a little glum, and bored with being locked up in the house almost constantly.
I should also tell you that we have nearly as many roosters as hens. Absurd, you say? Yes, but true. See, when you order hens through the mail, they toss in some males for warmth. The idea is, males are sort of pointless, so they can toss them in for free, and they absorb some of the inevitable percentage of chicks that will die in transport. Not ours, apparently. Our cute little male chicks held on to life with every iota of their fuzzy little bodies, and my mother fell in love, and there you have it. "Aren't they beautiful," she gushes. Yes, lovely. I guess. And aggressive, attacking us, each other, and any hens they can come in contact with. In fact (and this is one of the reasons I find roosters to be disgusting beasts) they will get so excited around a female that they will fall upon her as a group, pin her to the ground with a grip from their very cruel beaks, and gang rape her. Yes, lovely. The hens have cuts on their necks and backs and their feathers have been ripped out.
So my step-dad built a second hen house, this one for just the hens. A veritable Woman's Country, where the only thing they have to fear is that another hen will eat their eggs out from underneath them. The hen house, due to a lack of materials at the moment that Dale was throwing this thing together, is very low. So low I have to bend at the waist to gather eggs. So all the hens went in and loved their new, pro-fem diggs, except these two crazy little buggers who kept trying to fly through the chicken wire to the extent that they were bloody and cut and mom was afraid they were going to kill themselves, so back into the rooster house they went.
So, now you are up to date. Moving on. I went out this evening to feed the hens the contents of grandma's compost bowl (they get the ends of lettuce and string beans and bread, while less yummy stuff gets dumped in the compost barrel, natch.) As soon as I got the rooster house door open one of these crazy little hens flies right at me, roosts on my arm and begins to peck at the contents of the bowl. I would love to tell you that this was because the hen innately sensed my "Fowl Whisperer" spirit, or simply my kind and sweet disposition, but that would be awarding these creatures more sense than is their due. Instead, it was most likely because the roosters attack the hens at every opportunity, frequently keeping them from the food. If this little henny penny had been sent in to hiding, she most likely came to me because I came bearing food and had, as yet, never tried to rape her.
So there was this funny scared little thing, pecking at the soggy chocolate chip cookies in the bowl (don't ask) and happy as a little hen clam can be. I let her sit there for a few minutes and she clucked and made what are possibly the sweetest little noises known to chickendom. I was, of course, utterly charmed. I have a thing for all things that need protection and gentleness(Which may explain my sometimes questionable taste in men. But that's another story.) And at this moment, the sun broke through the gray clouds, bathing everything in a gold light, glittering the fruit trees and grass with diamonds, warming the air. I looked around me and saw the bunnies hop out of the blackberry patch, the air became alive with insects, the dogs lay all around, tongues lolling, enjoying the warmth on their backs. It was a moment of such utter, benign joy that I couldn't help but feel completely at peace.
Of course, that feeling had to pass. It was then I noticed this gory, horrible gaping wound on the back of the hen's head, which is why she's been too scared to come out and eat. Roosters really are nasty creatures. So I chucked henny penny under my arm and headed to the well house to find an old pet carrier for her to roost in for a few days while this thing heals. This was made harder by Velvet, black lab puppy of Doom, who was leaping and snapping at the hen in my arms, overjoyed that I had FINALLY provided her with a worthy toy. And that slavering maw was coming inches away, too!!
No shit, there I was (useless SCA reference that will be lost on every one who reads this) in the barn yard, struggling hen clutched under one arm, mice infested cat carrier in the other, kicking and flailing at this leaping black Pooka (folklore reference, may be lost on most) while Chief, alpha male of the horse herd is kicking at the metal portion of the fence to remind me that the horses rule this farm and they get fed first, lady. Boom Boom Boom. In short, it's chaos.
And I look up, and over the horse corral, really only a good softball lob away, is this gorgeous white bird. Smaller than a hawk, and way sleeker, startling white with gray areas on her wings. A kite of some sort, possibly a white tailed kite? I'm not a bird person. Thank heavens for google. It was just the most beautiful bird I have ever seen. Compact and graceful in every way. There is this moment when she is right in front of me over the corral, flying towards me, and she breaks a bit and hovers, staring in a way that seems to look right into my soul. And then she turns and is gone, into the forest at the edge of our land.
And of course, henny got put away and is calm and safe, and the horses got fed and Velvet just ate one of my socks, but I keep seeing that beautiful bird, and the golden sunlight at the end of the day and the sweet safety I was able to give a scared thing. A lot of the personal issues I've been dealing with melted away this evening. I can't help but think that there is some balance at work here. I may struggle with so much, but I am rewarded with so much too. And, in the words of my sifu, "That is a good thing to think on."
I should tell you that the last three days have been gray, dim, wet and cold. I love the rain and wet, but I will be honest - I have a saturation point: All the gray skies have left me a little glum, and bored with being locked up in the house almost constantly.
I should also tell you that we have nearly as many roosters as hens. Absurd, you say? Yes, but true. See, when you order hens through the mail, they toss in some males for warmth. The idea is, males are sort of pointless, so they can toss them in for free, and they absorb some of the inevitable percentage of chicks that will die in transport. Not ours, apparently. Our cute little male chicks held on to life with every iota of their fuzzy little bodies, and my mother fell in love, and there you have it. "Aren't they beautiful," she gushes. Yes, lovely. I guess. And aggressive, attacking us, each other, and any hens they can come in contact with. In fact (and this is one of the reasons I find roosters to be disgusting beasts) they will get so excited around a female that they will fall upon her as a group, pin her to the ground with a grip from their very cruel beaks, and gang rape her. Yes, lovely. The hens have cuts on their necks and backs and their feathers have been ripped out.
So my step-dad built a second hen house, this one for just the hens. A veritable Woman's Country, where the only thing they have to fear is that another hen will eat their eggs out from underneath them. The hen house, due to a lack of materials at the moment that Dale was throwing this thing together, is very low. So low I have to bend at the waist to gather eggs. So all the hens went in and loved their new, pro-fem diggs, except these two crazy little buggers who kept trying to fly through the chicken wire to the extent that they were bloody and cut and mom was afraid they were going to kill themselves, so back into the rooster house they went.
So, now you are up to date. Moving on. I went out this evening to feed the hens the contents of grandma's compost bowl (they get the ends of lettuce and string beans and bread, while less yummy stuff gets dumped in the compost barrel, natch.) As soon as I got the rooster house door open one of these crazy little hens flies right at me, roosts on my arm and begins to peck at the contents of the bowl. I would love to tell you that this was because the hen innately sensed my "Fowl Whisperer" spirit, or simply my kind and sweet disposition, but that would be awarding these creatures more sense than is their due. Instead, it was most likely because the roosters attack the hens at every opportunity, frequently keeping them from the food. If this little henny penny had been sent in to hiding, she most likely came to me because I came bearing food and had, as yet, never tried to rape her.
So there was this funny scared little thing, pecking at the soggy chocolate chip cookies in the bowl (don't ask) and happy as a little hen clam can be. I let her sit there for a few minutes and she clucked and made what are possibly the sweetest little noises known to chickendom. I was, of course, utterly charmed. I have a thing for all things that need protection and gentleness(Which may explain my sometimes questionable taste in men. But that's another story.) And at this moment, the sun broke through the gray clouds, bathing everything in a gold light, glittering the fruit trees and grass with diamonds, warming the air. I looked around me and saw the bunnies hop out of the blackberry patch, the air became alive with insects, the dogs lay all around, tongues lolling, enjoying the warmth on their backs. It was a moment of such utter, benign joy that I couldn't help but feel completely at peace.
Of course, that feeling had to pass. It was then I noticed this gory, horrible gaping wound on the back of the hen's head, which is why she's been too scared to come out and eat. Roosters really are nasty creatures. So I chucked henny penny under my arm and headed to the well house to find an old pet carrier for her to roost in for a few days while this thing heals. This was made harder by Velvet, black lab puppy of Doom, who was leaping and snapping at the hen in my arms, overjoyed that I had FINALLY provided her with a worthy toy. And that slavering maw was coming inches away, too!!
No shit, there I was (useless SCA reference that will be lost on every one who reads this) in the barn yard, struggling hen clutched under one arm, mice infested cat carrier in the other, kicking and flailing at this leaping black Pooka (folklore reference, may be lost on most) while Chief, alpha male of the horse herd is kicking at the metal portion of the fence to remind me that the horses rule this farm and they get fed first, lady. Boom Boom Boom. In short, it's chaos.
And I look up, and over the horse corral, really only a good softball lob away, is this gorgeous white bird. Smaller than a hawk, and way sleeker, startling white with gray areas on her wings. A kite of some sort, possibly a white tailed kite? I'm not a bird person. Thank heavens for google. It was just the most beautiful bird I have ever seen. Compact and graceful in every way. There is this moment when she is right in front of me over the corral, flying towards me, and she breaks a bit and hovers, staring in a way that seems to look right into my soul. And then she turns and is gone, into the forest at the edge of our land.
And of course, henny got put away and is calm and safe, and the horses got fed and Velvet just ate one of my socks, but I keep seeing that beautiful bird, and the golden sunlight at the end of the day and the sweet safety I was able to give a scared thing. A lot of the personal issues I've been dealing with melted away this evening. I can't help but think that there is some balance at work here. I may struggle with so much, but I am rewarded with so much too. And, in the words of my sifu, "That is a good thing to think on."
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Why doesn't TV listen to me??
I just found out that pretty much EVERY show I actively watch on television and LOVE is about to get axed. That makes me sad because, 1 - I get really passionate about my stories. And, 2 - I feel like my entertainment desires are in NO WAY represented by mainstream TV. WTF?? I'm a nice girl. I work hard to make other people happy and their lives pleasant. Do I not deserve to sit down in front of Hulu and lose myself in some mindless adventure? Why yes, I think I do. TV, however, does not agree that the intelligent, action- and sci-fi loving female section of the viewing audience deserves their effing shows!! When do I get a voice in the media, for the love of God!
I only returned to watching TV this year, when I became captivated by these shows. Prior to this, the cancellation of Firefly sent me into such a period of despondency that I simply couldn't watch anything - all shows left a taste like ashes in my mouth.
If TV takes my shows away, I am no longer a fan of TV. My beloved shows are going to be replaced with more reality TV and mindless teenage drivel completely lacking in creativity and strong female voices: All of my shows are fun and exciting, but also feature strong, badassed, intelligent women who can throw down with the very best. And strangely, none of them look like the emaciated harlots of shows like Gossip Girl. Is it too much to ask that I be shown characters on television that I can ACTUALLY identify with???
TV, you are about to make yourself one hell of an enemy.
In case you haven't seen them, watch these shows: Chuck, Life, Dollhouse (people criticize Joss Whedon's newest, but I find it exciting and agonizing. So shut the hell up and watch,)Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, Fringe, Bones (my all time favorite.)
I only returned to watching TV this year, when I became captivated by these shows. Prior to this, the cancellation of Firefly sent me into such a period of despondency that I simply couldn't watch anything - all shows left a taste like ashes in my mouth.
If TV takes my shows away, I am no longer a fan of TV. My beloved shows are going to be replaced with more reality TV and mindless teenage drivel completely lacking in creativity and strong female voices: All of my shows are fun and exciting, but also feature strong, badassed, intelligent women who can throw down with the very best. And strangely, none of them look like the emaciated harlots of shows like Gossip Girl. Is it too much to ask that I be shown characters on television that I can ACTUALLY identify with???
TV, you are about to make yourself one hell of an enemy.
In case you haven't seen them, watch these shows: Chuck, Life, Dollhouse (people criticize Joss Whedon's newest, but I find it exciting and agonizing. So shut the hell up and watch,)Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, Fringe, Bones (my all time favorite.)
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