It DOES make me a woman who beats herself up.
Put that way, it occurs to me that beating myself up takes an enormous amount of my time and energy. I wonder if I could use it elsewhere. . .
Who we are is defined by what we do. It is not defined by what we don't do. So I can beat myself up for failing to blog daily, or flaking on my projects, or not exercising; but that doesn't make me lazy, or flaky, or a failure.
It DOES make me a woman who beats herself up. Put that way, it occurs to me that beating myself up takes an enormous amount of my time and energy. I wonder if I could use it elsewhere. . .
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I was contemplating a certain character while watching his show this morning. He's eccentric, ageless, and likes to take his young companions on fantastic adventures that defy the laws of time and space. His vehicle is utterly unique; he has a title rather than a name; and he thinks bow ties are cool.
That's right. I was watching The Cat in the Hat. For those of you who have been wondering: Yes, I DID manage to finish those costumes for the kiddos before StarFest. Although, admittedly, Deadpool was still tacky around the edges on Saturday morning, and Ash Ketchum never did have a canon backpack. But The Eleventh Doctor and Idris looked pretty damn good, all things considered.
Avedon just wore his Spiderman hoodie. And he was so delighted to meet a "real" Spiderman! Whose costume kicked my cosplay ass. I don't mind, though. The kids had a blast, therefore I did good. I will keep looking for that Ash backpack, though. Just to placate my OCD. He can wear it to the next con. People ask why Americans cling to the Imperial System of measurement when everyone else in the entire world uses metric. Here's three reasons off the top of my head:
ONE: We like being able to measure things in day-to-day life (books, towels, vegetables, bread boxes) without having to deal in either ridiculously large numbers (millimeters), or a stupid decimal (meters). I personally would use the decimeter a lot, because it's that nice size right in the middle, but metric users look at you like you're soft in the head when you do that. TWO: Base Ten is not the only, or even necessarily the best, number system. Our measurement of time is a child of Base Sixty. Fibonacci is the math of beauty, and it's never even met Base Ten. And isn't our times table an echo of Base Twelve? There are people who think Base Twelve kicks Base Ten's ass, by the way, and they are really smart people. http://www.dozenal.org is one place to find them. So. Do not overestimate the power of ten. THREE: We're America. We NEVER do what everyone else is doing. Sometimes that's embarrassing, sure. But in this case, I say: Go, Lady Liberty. All 151 feet of you. I should be writing
getting back into the groove but I got nuthin'. Wish me luck, folks. StarFest snuck up on me and I haven't worked on the kids' costumes at all, at all. Hells, I don't even know what characters they all settled on--But I DO know it matters to them. Hugely. Since we started taking them to this thing, the StarFest costume contest has become more important to them than Halloween.
I have six days to make five costumes. I'm off to do this impossible thing. SuperMom Awaaaaaaaaay. . . I have a Nerd Jacket. Everyone should. It's just a hip little garment onto which I've sewn patches of all the things I'm fanatical about. So there's some Froud fairies, and some Lord of the Rings references, and a Targaryen crest and Gir and a Blue Sun logo. . .that sort of thing. And I had the brilliant idea of saving the right sleeve for the bands whose concerts I've attended, and I started strong with my very first effort. Thank you, Grace Potter, for actually producing band patches. I thought everyone did, you see. I was wrong.
I've been to see Weird Al, Ani Difranco, Amanda Palmer, Gogol Bordello, Concrete Blonde, Eddie Izzard (yes, I would put him on the sleeve) and a wide variety of awesome opening bands, and I have no patches to show for it. They may be out there on the interwebs somewhere, but they're really hard to find. Granted, this is definitely a first-world problem, and I'm not getting my panties in a twist over it. But it does seem sad that an industry which I automatically believed to be universal and timeless has, in fact, gone nearly extinct. And it took me this long to notice. Can it be saved? Will there be a Band Patch renaissance? Will we rise up, as one people, and tell the music merchandise guys that, by golly, we want more than t-shirts and bumper stickers? Will my nerd jacket ever be complete? As always, time will tell. We used to climb out the window and onto the roof of the back bedroom at my parents' house in Paonia, and we'd eat oatmeal squares by the handful and drink Barqs root beer and discuss the many philosophical questions revolving around. . .well, us. And our specific place in the universe.
Because we were teenagers, nothing was more important. And because it was a small town with no light pollution, the stars were breathtakingly bright. Do you suppose, Ryan, that that made our talk more profound? Sure felt like it. We've barely kept in touch in the past few years, but I know he's out there, doing his thing, becoming the great politician he described on that roof. And he knows I'm here, painting my heart out and raising kids, which was my personal Roof Plan. So we're right where we need to be, and our former selves would be as pleased as teenagers can get. At some point we'll reconnect, and it will be like we never parted. We're soul siblings, a bond unbreakable by time or distance. So there. Today is Ryan's 32nd birthday. I hope he's enjoying it. I hope the stars are shining on him brightly. . . And when he makes a bid for the presidency, he has my vote. If for no other reason, then for the sake of the roof and the root beer. It's been a while since I've shown you guys a painting in progress. So here you go!
It has been a landscapey sort of year, hasn't it? The Secret Garden is one of my favorite stories of all time. It has been adapted to at least three movies, two radio programs, and a Broadway musical. I can't say I'm familiar with them all, but the ones I've seen have disappointed.
They all shoehorn in a villain. Sometimes it's Mrs. Medlock and sometimes it's the doctor, but either way it's frustrating because it sacrifices the very soul of the original story. It was revolutionary of Burnett to tell her audience that adversity is born in the mind--that bad thoughts will destroy you much more surely than some mustache-twirling bad guy. And that good thoughts and common sense are all you need in order to rise triumphant. It seems that's still an idea ahead of its time. Screen writers want to give the people someone to hate, so his defeat can be visible. Or something. Perhaps they didn't get it, or perhaps they're just lazy. While I'm waiting for the filmmakers to finally get it right, I'll just keep watching Garden State. It's got exactly the same flavor as The Secret Garden, and a total lack of villains. By accident or design, it has most of the elements of the story, all shaken into new places. Go watch it. You'll see what I'm talking about. |
ArtistHi there! Stick around! Kick off your shoes and have some tea. I'm Robin, and this is my place. Archives
May 2019
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