siren_echoes

Every now and again, I wander back to Dreamwidth. It's one of those platforms that is good in theory, but has always had the feel of a backup for primary blogs, rather than an actual blogging platform. However, if it turns out that there is a good user base of pagan/otherkin/elven types on here that use DW as a primary platform, I might stick around. Especially since LiveJournal has just fizzled out for the most part.

I've been using Tumblr as my primary platform of late. I dislike the format, but it seems to be where the people are.

There goes LJ again. Hm... I wonder if I shouldn't start utilizing this site more often. It's definitely getting more traffic than it was back when I first opened an account on here. I might start using this as a backup Arts journal, mirroring my

shadows_gallery shadows_gallery account on LiveJournal (since I no longer use my shadowsculptor account very much). Ye gods, I have too many LJ accounts. Really, I'm only using two right now though.

I've been working on a painting that is about to get dubbed the Murphy's Law painting if it keeps up as it has. I nearly lost it in a file corruption incident, started working on a saved JPG and discovered that some of the proportions on the figure were wrong, and have been fighting with it ever since. Argh. Either I'm too much of a perfectionist or I jinxed this one by working on it publicly and posting update pics on it. Of course, ironically, the fact that I was posting update pics is what enabled me to salvage it when the file corrupted. I hate when my art projects turn into Woman against Evil Art Thing of Doom. But I shall prevail. Hopefully.

I should get off here. Have work to do.

Ho-kay. Bizarre dreams are bizarre.

I was at some sort of high-class, posh dinner party type of thing being hosted by a wealthy heiress or wife or something. We were sitting on a couch in a drawing room over wine, talking (not sure what about). Then somehow, the room ended up being the ocean, but we were still inside the house. I was floating on... a mattress? And there were these... rodent-type creatures, but they were sapient and could talk. There was a huge white shark (not to be confused with a Great White shark-- this one actually looked more like a beluga whale than a shark, but it was a shark in the dream) that was swimming around me. One of the rodent-creatures (sort of looked like a groundhog with a long tail? Cross between a squirrel and a groundhog?) was evil, like an evil politician type, and I told the beluga-shark he could eat the evil politician rodent-thing, but not the one beside him, because he was good. So the beluga-shark chowed down, then came up to me and kissed me on the cheek to thank me... LOL... And then I said, "Predators make the best guardians."

And then, I was sitting on the couch at the dinner party, next to the heiress/wife lady, as though time had reset. And something about the heiress/wife seemed off, like she was hiding something or plotting something, but I couldn't figure out what.

Weird, no?

Woohoo! Entries finally uploaded. Took it long enough.

Still mostly just using this site as a backup, just in case LJ succumbs to the DDoS attacks one time too many.

I think I'm going to work on Veil now. Maybe some artwork for it.

*headbangs to cathartic music*

Thanks to all the recent attacks on Live Journal, I decided to log in here and dust this thing off. I'm not sure what, if anything, I'll do with this account, but at least I know I have it. I might back some stuff up here, privately, till I can sort out various filters. I still prefer LJ, to be honest, but better to have a backup, I suppose.

This journal is Friends Only.

This image is mine; please do not use without my permission.

Today is the Summer Solstice. Unfortunately, I work, but I think I will slip outside, behind the building, into the woods during my break around dusk and give a little greeting.

I have realized how utterly addicted to and dependent upon linear, to-the-minute time scheduling I have become. A large part of this is because if I don't get to work on time, I will be lambasted, or if I don't get to meals in time (often even within a few minutes), I won't be able to eat unless I go to the store and spend more money than I'm already paying. I am a responsible adult, after all, and responsible adults are not late to work or appointments. (Yes, we still have to pay for the meals we don't eat). It has become a subconscious habit, this continual looking at the clock or a watch. I tried the other day to spend the day without a watch on. It was all I could do not to look for some sort of time telling device every few minutes (especially while I was at work, and the clock was on the wall over the door). How does one move beyond this utter dependence on second-to-second-to-second living, that is always looking to the future, to what will be coming at such-and-such o'clock, but it hasn't happened yet and so it's really something in your mind-- and simply learn to live in the Now, where all blends and melds and becomes Real? There is something so freeing about just being in the moment, a clarity and life-power that washes over you, brings you to a heightened level of awareness and being and peace... and it is so very, very hard to maintain this state, in this society driven mercilessly by linear time.

I created a community on here, for artists, writers, and musicians of all types who express their spirituality, their other-ness, their humanity, their connections to things unseen through their art.

http://walkers-between.dreamwidth.org/profile

Will work more with it later... till then, feel free to join. Membership is moderated, but I'll approve freely :)

Ah, lovely. Practically the entire staff here is or has been sick. And, of course, most of us actually live on property. Now I've got it. I work in about forty minutes....

Dosing myself with vitamin C, green tea, Afrin, and throat drops. In a few minutes, I'm also going to take a look at the very limited supply of herbal teas in the store, to see if I can mix and match a little cold remedy. (There really isn't much to work with out here) And I'm gonna go breathe on Alex, for telling me every time he saw me that I'm going to get sick.

"Are you sick yet?"

"No."

"You're gonna get sick."

"No."

"Yes, you are. You're gonna get sick, just like the rest of us..."

Yes, that would be my lovely manager.

Sometimes, the world around me seems like a reflection on water. Insubstantial. I'm not sure why this is. The people aren't insubstantial. The trees, the mountains, the rivers and waterfalls and oceans, don't seem insubstantial, but they all seem to be connected to whatever lies beneath the surface, what is hidden by this reflection, yes, including the people, whether they are fully aware of it or no. Like undersea mountains that break the surface to form islands. Walls seem insubstantial. Carpet and computers and shelving and chairs and lamps and tables and washers and driers and towels and clothes and television and and and... these are what seem insubstantial. Not that they are bad. Nor good. Perhaps they provide comfort, warmth, a way to nourish one's self, convenience when writing or painting, but they are not Real. Only reflections. I don't really understand it, I'm not trying to be metaphorical or deep, but this is the way my mind perceives things.

I'm finding myself contemplating the value of what I'm doing with my life recently. I suppose much of this comes from seeing close friends start to realize some of their dreams. Marriage and family, the start of an online metaphysical supply shop, work towards a paranormal investigations group and a spiritual center, a career in the coast guard... so many things seem to be falling into place for them, because they have had a sense of direction. Me... I wander. I write. I paint. I fly to faraway locales and find myself in the wilds, perhaps somewhat content, but... I still feel I lack direction. But, what direction do I want to take? I've agonized over this for years, and I've never come to a conclusion that seems to be worthwhile. Do I truly need a direction, a purpose? Would life simply be meaningless, a waste, if I released the need to be driven by some goal? Am I my intent? Must I have a Story? Or is life better lived in the moment, day by day, immersed in the beauty and splendour, the joy and sadness, the longing, the peace and chaos that is found in the universe? Every day, touching something that perhaps is a little beyond sight. Walking between the worlds, reflecting it in art and writing and dreaming. Is that my Story?

Not quite so vivid or exciting as last time, but writing this more for recording some thoughts regarding development of lucidity....

( Read more... )

As this little site in the sea of blogsites out there seems to have gravitated towards a very creative-and-artistic sphere, I thought I would share a few images I have created over the years. All behind the cut. (Caution-- not all of them are work-safe, and some are quite large)

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Overlook this if dream journal type things don't interest you all :) I just wanted to record them, as they were quite vivid last night.

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Last night, I stepped out of the staff caff, on my way back to my room, and stopped to look at the stars. It was slightly hazy, but everything was clearly visible. One especially bright star caught my attention. It seemed to be in an odd location, actually, and as I watched it, it began to dance around in jerky, almost circular movements. I watched it for several minutes, trying to ascertain what it could be. My first thought was a satellite, but they move in a smooth line. An aircraft? Again, they don't move with that jerky, erratic pattern. It was definitely up high, above the haze. One of the guys stepped out of the staff caff at that point, and the "star" stopped its strange little dance, and flew straight up until it disappeared.

I really couldn't say what it was. File that one under "as yet unexplained..."

I am feeling somewhat... blank... today. This could have something to do with spending the entirety of yesterday running over half of California trying to open a new bank account and get my license renewed and changed to reflect the fact that I'm, you know, no longer in Texas. Unfortunately, things were accidentally left behind that were needed for said changeover, and so the hour and a half drive to Sonora was wasted.

I came back to the lodge and decided to forgo staffcaff food, which evidently consisted of spaghetti and meatballs (which I am not overly fond of anyway) in favor of dinner in the restaurant. Perfectly flavored trout, a glass of pinot noir, and cheesecake made the day... somewhat tolerable. And I was the only one in the restaurant. It is like a ghost town here since the Strawberrians left for home. I'm glad. If I heard one more strain of bluegrass, I might have taken to tearing out clumps of my hair in order to plug up my ears.

I wandered around the woods this morning, taking one of the nearby hiking trails. I love being immersed in the wilds, love being able to walk out the door and disappear into the forest. I have never been able to live in cities and most towns, not without finding myself... fading, or stagnating, or just... numb. I suppose this is just the way I'm wired. The accomodations here leave much to be desired, though. That is a situation that I will hopefully be able to remedy in time, once I can get a hold of a decent car. Unfortunately, living spaces are relegated to either on property, or an hour away in Groveland. The Lodge actually rents out a big old house there, which is allegedly quite nice.

I just lost half of my post. Wonderful. I will try to remember what I wrote.

I have a couple of tattoo designs on the agenda, one for an old friend, and one for a man on property. I don't do the inks, but I do the occassional commissioned sketch for the artists to modify as needed. One of the tattoos, the one for the good friend of mine, depicts a rose vine wrapped around a sword; the vine transforms into a chain that wraps around the arm, and a butterfly hovers over the rose. I'm not quite certain how to design a wrapped tattoo, but the idea is wonderful, and very fitting for her.

It's back to work tomorrow. We had eighty-two checkouts Sunday. Translation: laundry piled halfway to the ceiling. I hope it isn't quite as... overwhelming... tomorrow. Ah well. All one can do is what one can do. Preferably while playing one's music as loud as one can. And maybe dancing a little, when no one's looking. And hoping the enormous, industrial washers don't vibrate right through the window because they were not cemented and bolted down properly. Ah, cheapskates. This must be what an earthquake feels like. Just more... rythmic.

This looks to be an interesting site, a good creative outlet, though I've not yet explored much. The internet here at the Green has been very... tempermental... in the last few days. I was shocked that it even worked this morning when I logged on.

The first Saturday in June is the Celtic Festival in Modesto. I will be there. I fully intend to spend copious amounts of money on Wonderful, Beautiful Things to brighten up my rather dim, tiny, and otherwise unremarkable living space. Where I would put these Wonderful, Beautiful Things, I haven't quite ascertained yet. However, Stacey (a.k.a., The Roomie) and I were talking last night (over a lovely bottle of Pinot Noir from the organic food store in Modesto) about approaching Joe (General Manager) about relocating us, quite possibly (hopefully) to one of the historic cabins in the Lupine village that has been set aside for employee housing. The last straw that has prompted this discussion: sewage backup, flowing right behind the double-wide trailer they have us housed in. It is... mmmm... aromatic.

This week is the Strawberry Music Festival, which is hosted by Camp Mather (the SF-owned campground/resort thingie just down the road). It used to be only bluegrass music *shudder* but they've come up in the world, somewhat, or at least branched out a bit. I didn't walk down; not overly enthused by the crowds that will be there. Not overly enthused about the crowds here either. A band actually played in our tavern the night before last. It was... quite mediocre. But then, perhaps that is only personal taste.

And with that thought, Lunch is served. I am famished. Till later :)

Sorry in advance for any typos. It's late. I've been writing for about three hours. My pen ran out of ink, and so I've been writing in pencil. Not sure what I'll do when my pencil is gone. Maybe write in eyeliner?

Hope you all enjoy :)

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And now, some pics, because I want to share the beauty of the area :)

These were not taken by me or by anyone I know. Source site: http://www.terragalleria.com/parks/np.yosemite.html

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This is the first part of a story (not the one I'd mentioned earlier). Hopefully there will be more to come.

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Current Mood: creative
Current Music: Nightwish: The Poet and the Pendulum

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siren_echoes

January 2014

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