Cookies, Christmas cheer, and a new painting

I have been really emotional lately. It's not PMS. Well, it might be. That, and my fatiguing seasonal part time gig, the holidays and an upcoming b-day. Yesterday I was running on the beach and the beauty of the morning, the way the storm clouds darkened everything but a bright ribbon of light on the nearly still ocean water in the far distance, yada, yada, brought tears to my eyes. This morning, once again provoked to tears by the beauty of nature in the morning light, I ran through a big and tangled inventory of feelings. 1. I am really, really happy to still be alive. But 2. a little scared I will have another bout of heart trouble even though I 3. doubt I will have another one since my heart seems to be recovering nicely. 4. Sad that my dream job is still eluding me. 5. Hopeful and optimistic that it's just around the corner. 6. Frustrated to still be living in the apartment I thought would only be temporary and that I haven't had a boyfriend in like ages and ages. Damn, why did I turn that threesome opportunity down? Why? 7. Annoyed that L. has been depressed and therefor not much fun for the past several months. 8. Guilty that I am annoyed with L. for being depressed. 9. Grateful and 10. amused that after many months of searching for work I finally land a (seasonal) job as a Nestle Tollhouse cookie baker. Six to eight hours, three days a week baking three hundred and sixty cookies per hour. And I am supposed to say, but just can't, I really can't, say, Nestle baked some love for you today. Fuck they did. Well, is holiday money. And I do love the smell of fresh baked cookies. 11. Lazy. I love sleeping in, not having to get anywhere by a certain minute and a day stretching before me to fill any way I want. There's nothing like a part time non-dream job to make me 12. appreciate my time. Today, after my run, I checked my email, worked on my next illustration, had a late night hot chocolate with L. and wrote this blog post. 13. Disappointed not to be spending five weeks in Paris but am 14. looking forward to a week in New York City instead. Who cares if it'll be freezing cold there, I love New York! Lastly, I feel 15. eager to experience more of life, whatever happens, even if it means more birthdays.

Some photos from some of my lazy days off...
the Christmas display at the Hyatt, SF.


Thompson Street, Alameda, where every house looks like this for the holidays...

Kelly Reemston's art reception...
then drinks at The Pied Piper Bar, The Palace Hotel, SF...
A busker playing in the Powell Street Bart station...
some jewelry store displays, Union Square, SF...
I love the delicate details of these puppets.

My latest illustration, which took me longer to complete (because of the part time gig) than anticipated. I'm putting together a book of short stories, each one I hope to illustrate in a different style. This one, obviously, is about a girl who can fly...

Art (not mine) and other November things

I had the worst of all nightmares in a string of nightmares last week. My brother and I were sleeping in the same bed as if we were kids again. But that's not the bad part. My dad, feeling lonely and sorry for himself as he so often does, climbs in between us and holds me like he sometimes did when I was really little and still scared of the dark making me feel trapped and angry. Cut to, as if this were a movie, a nunnery under attack. And one young novice gets the bright idea of putting a big fish from the dining room table over her head to protect her from harm. Yes, a fish over the head is just what the manual says to do in just this kind of situation! So over her head the fish goes but the knight who reaches her first slashes her down anyway, fish and all. But, God knows why, somehow her clever fish trick works, though not in the way she had intended. Cut to the Mother Superior praising this dead nun for her quick thinking, and her sacrifice, which saved the rest of them from suffering the same fate. Cut to me again. My dad is now standing beside the bed, by the door, and I am relieved but also upset to see him spit on my brother, his saliva glowing in the dark.

In waking life this plays out as me playing go between for my brother and sister and our dad. Which is rewarded by my being the only one he treats with common decency. Which makes me feel good for having let go of childhood traumas and being able to have a somewhat peaceful and mature relationship with my father. Cut to my sister once again shutting him out of her life last week, just in time for Thanksgiving, and my dad turns on me with such contempt I feel like I have been spiritually attacked. Only to repent as he suddenly remembers I am a human being. Only to relapse the next time he loses patience. And so on. Making me feel what else but trapped and angry.

But, let's not think about that. Am not that kid anymore. No fish over the head panic attacks over annoying but passing occurrences like that. Breathe in. Breath out.

I am feeling way, way better this week. But have been reconsidering birthday trip to Paris, which is disappointing, but necessary. Talking things over with my sister she pointed out that what I was doing was looking for an escape, but Paris would be nothing more than a temporary one. The moment I come back I'd be in the same place I am now. Only without money. Much better to use money on some kind of brilliant career move like, literally, moving out of my puny apartment which I've been wanting to do for years. Or, as my brother advocates, upgrading to the latest super cool computer. Or... not sure yet.

Anyway, here's a few images from my November album...
three Doggie Diner heads. What were they doing there? I don't know.

Some artwork enhanced by natural light...


The Golden Gate Bridge...
and boats.

If Dashiell Hammett were around today he might look like this guy...

Kelly Reemsten's amazing artwork at the Caldwell Snyder Gallery...
Why didn't I think of that?!!!! Damn, she's good.

Buskers I should have tipped...
But didn't.