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Feb. 13th, 2014


I hold the keys.


I hold the keys,

Stop being dense
Stop rolling up your sleeve.
It's not your drug anymore.

Pull off your blinders
The 80's phoned;
They want those rose-colored glasses back.
Wake up from your coma...
Times have changed.
You could never get in to begin with.

Get over yourself!
You insist on erasing reality and believing
you hold that ring.

Smell that coffee?
See that cup of tea..?
I poured it.
I stirred it.
I sip it every day.

I hold the keys, motherfucker.
You'll never get in.

Aug. 30th, 2013


Writing, and coughing, and writing.

I've been sick for 3 days now. I'm so tired of being sick. Thanks to the group of individuals I work with, I get sneezed on...well, on a very regular basis. So now, I'm coughing.

Also, these last several days, I've started a bit of fan fiction. I've never done this before, but it just started pouring out. I type very quickly and it just happened.

It contains Marcus Miller.

Aug. 24th, 2013


Stepping back

Today I chose photos to alter, sent them over to my tab, and let it alone for a while.

I had some catching up to do at home, just as it is every single week - let everything go, hurry hurry hurry - rush the Munchkin to school, rush to work, rush to get everything done at work I possibly can, rush to get the Munchkin from afterschool camp, rush home, homework, dinner, play, laugh, get kids to bed, collapse. In those parameters I have a certain harmony, though it is really considered controlled chaos. Then when I reach the weekend I try (really, I do!) to get everything done that must be done because who else will?

Controlled chaos... that's a nice internal description. Most of the time the atoms and cells and ghosts that make up the 'me' everyone sees...well its all churning and moving and drumming around inside this animated, blood-filled creature while all the other animated, blood-filled creatures pass by in a haze of Hello's and How-are-you's and no one is the wiser. It's easy to mimic a regular person with a regular smile and a regular life. Why not? I don't make a lot of waves, I don't make the nightly news. I just start the little undercurrents and I don't mind.

Controlled chaos is a way to see the world when you've seen too much, heard too much, and sometimes you might want to escape into something unreal, despite its harshness or its possibilities in becoming reality. I feel okay with that. I'm okay with the double entendre that is my life.

Now let me step back into that other side and stare into the ugly face that is TOK...and translate his image into one that people will stare at and wonder if I've lost my mind.

Aug. 23rd, 2013


I Keep Banging My Head Against This Wall

What an apt title for today. Atlas must be jealous of so many who carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. How do we even stand upright these days? How is it that so many people care so little about anything but what is in their own little bubble?
After today's daily heart-shredding grind, I came home and tried to do a few things.

Only completed one of my photo renderings of TOK, and this irritated me already, as I am used to doing at least 2, at most 4. Then I get this message from someone on facebook, asking me to not post such scary pictures because they don't want their kid seeing it.

I mean, damn, there are so many photos (of actual people) crippled and maimed and shot, I've seen autopsy photos on fb, there are photos of animals who have been tortured...and I post photo art renderings from a movie and all of a sudden its 'too scary.' Whatever.

Mr. Farnsworth thoughtfully provided me with well over 70 stills from the movie, effectively overwhelming me. Seriously a nice guy - Diane Foster is amazing too, such a sweetheart and who could imagine going through the things she went through as Audrey and not come out on the other side of this film a changed person in some way?

The man who is TOK is not a gigantic guy, he's built well and trim, and I initially looked him up before having seen the movie, but I've since forgotten what he looks like except he's blonde. The mask kind of imprinted in my head; sure I know there's a guy, an actor behind the mask, but it doesn't seem to matter as he's carried off that character so perfectly. There's every emotion, stripped down and exposed, in one perfect voice designed just for TOK.

Because of my upbringing, each time I think of a few select scenes, I blanch. Automatic flinch -- can't help it. I see it in my head and immediately I think, "No, that is SO not right..." or "Oh damn that is really really wrong..."

Even if it's so wrong, even if I flinch, each bit has its place in the horror that is Marcus Miller: The Orphan Killer. Wasn't meant to be a pretty story. There are parts that immediately hit close to home; the abuse, the lack of mercy to a young child...

I am not enamoured by Farnsworth, or TOK, or Diane Foster -- maybe I'm just a fan, or maybe my natural knack for promoting the best in others has kicked in and I just jumped in, feet first. No, not enamoured - but I have absolutely developed a deep new respect for the horror industry and the rare gold these people bring to the table.

Early to bed.

Aug. 21st, 2013



It's been the kind of day that leaves you in a daze -- too much to do, always running, hurry hurry hurry, because if you don't you won't get anything done and once you get home, you just collapse.

So much. Too much. Emotionally draining day. Too many sad stories and too many people who look at their kids with more than a little resentment. I'm so tired. I keep on keeping on because that's what I'm supposed to do. Over the last ten years I have developed the ability to lift spirits, crack jokes, and make life bearable for a few minutes for those who hate everything and everyone. I can't take credit for making someone's life all better, but I contribute a little.

Finally got my tablet. Of all the days to get it...so tired I've barely even looked at it.

This is the kind of tired that paused my writing for months at a time. I don't know jack about astrological signs, for real, just a little bit of this and that. My sign is Cancer, and I'm supposed to be emotional and form strong bonds and put others before me and etc etc etc.

Yeah, thats me. Its been so difficult, especially today. I'm so confused by the attitudes of people in their 20's -- so many that expect everything be handed to them, so many that have no game plan and can't figure out why nothing is going their way even though they don't know what the hell they want. HEY -- it's not every 20-something doing this, I know. But so many. Hundreds pass through our doors each year. Hundreds just in that age bracket. I thought the next generation was supposed to have an edge over us Generation X'ers. I'm not seeing it.


The Voices That Pour Into My Ears

Tonight I uploaded a few more photos into the TOK album. As I uploaded the one I titled "I will not forget you" -- a thought popped into my head.

When I blog, I put loud music in. For the longest it's been every KORN album I own, set to repeat. I've discussed this before. I need that wall of sound because I cannot focus with so much outside stimuli drowning out my thoughts. The last few entries have been set to the soundtrack of TOK and with my modestly good headphones I can feel these driving beats in my throat.

Every song begins with something TOK said. At one point, he remarks how he's become a legend designed to scare naughty children. And that is where the thought popped into my head tonight.

I wrote Monster in a series of journal entries spanning about two weeks, if I remember correctly. Constraints of regular life restricted my ability to get it out any faster...in this time frame, two years ago, I finished the story where the Monster wonders if he is doomed to become a legend designed to scare naughty children into behaving.

When I watched the movie I remember hearing those lines and feeling more chilled than I already was, steeped in such a horrific experience. Now I know why. And now I worry that the similarities of those two instances will not sit well with the creator of TOK, even though it was completely and totally coincidental.

"I remember the kids in the school yard talking about me. I became a legend you thought was made up to keep kids from behaving badly. But now you know different."

"I was a throwback; a forgotten legend....one of those monsters the lowborne mothers threaten naughty children with."

So. There it is. Maybe if he reads he'll notice, and maybe not. I noticed because I have a thing for recognizing voices and faces, and accents, because its something I like. If I hear someone talking in a movie, but I don't see them, I can very possibly tell you 3 other movies they've been in. It's a fluke I guess.
TOK has an amazingly voice, believably tortured, anguished, rich -- full of barely controlled rage. Calm. Every time he spoke, I held my breath to be sure I heard every word because it was the perfect match for a deranged pyschopath hell bent on revenge and that was amazing.

And now, I return to the relative safety of my nest, to curl up and manipulate an image for a few moments before my body tells me, in terms that cannot be argued with, that I need to go to sleep or else.

Aug. 18th, 2013


Dragging the axe

I was determined to watch it. I was so afraid I would hate it. I kept telling myself while waiting for it to arrive that I would watch it, I would listen and watch wide-eyed the entire time.

It came in the mail and all because I developed a new obsession, maybe a slightly healthier obsession than some people have with...y'know...whatever. Drugs or relationships or saving the world.

I had only seen clips of The Orphan Killer. I had tried to obtain it by other means and was unsuccessful, and I didn't realize in all my ADHD glory that I could just go to theorphankiller.com website and order it directly. After having talked at length with the writer of the movie, who also had a starring role and who filmed it himself...I was so worried that I would finally sit down with this disc and absolutely hate it and then that would suck on so many levels because I really like the way this guy operates, and I loved the photo work I was doing. Quietly, I ordered it online and waited. What if I hated this movie? After all, I'm not who I was 7 years ago.

Seven years ago I gave up most horror when I got pregnant with our son. I clung to my beloved Pitch Black star, Vin Diesel, but beyond that I let it go. I had been letting it go anyway because I work with kids all day, and not just any kids, but kids who have usually been through hell and need a nice normal person with a nice smile and a warm hug and a goofy sense of humor. So I let it go. It wasn't hard - I just had so much going on that I couldn't hang on to everything forever...

When I investigated this guy, Matt Farnsworth, I found disturbing bloody pictures of that handsome guy I had been talking shop with and then I found The Orphan Killer and I started doing my art thing and I got curious and finally...finally, last night, I sat down and watched the movie. All this time, all these photos, all those little movie clips...they didn't prepare me for the carnage, or the emotion.

I can't possibly tell you all about the movie here, and if you aren't a horror fan then you don't want to know and don't care anyway.

I loved the movie. I had that sick, twisted feeling in my gut because sometimes when bad things happen to people, those people do unspeakably bad things. Its a vicious circle. Farnsworth managed to tell a story that few people dare tell, and placed it within a genre that seldom sees genuinely bad people brought to brutal justice by the worst means possible.

These photos keep me occupied during the time I used to gaze, bored, at facebook. I feel this pull and because my method for editing involves all hands-on, I touch every part of the photo, using my fingers on a touch screen to manipulate the colors and moods. TOK in all his madness has helped to alleviate mine. I love it.

I love it.

Aug. 4th, 2013


Flip the coin.

Such exhiliration to know you have value.

I lead an ordinary life. I work every day, I love my husband and my children, I make people laugh, I write and blog. I'm 38 and unapologetic about it. I don't pretend to be something I'm not.

But I have days where nothing goes the way it should. Half of friday was like that, and I really took to heart all that transpired.

Then, this weekend, most of those feelings were erased by a Lion.

Let me elaborate: See, there's this guy --

WAIT, don't jump to conclusions. There's this guy who is an actor, but now he's a writer, and he wrote and made a slasher movie, among other things. He's amazing. Scares the hell out of you if you let him.

Anyway, this guy. I started doing alterations on some of the photos I found - most are of him and that monster he created. A lot of photos of him. He absolutely murders the camera. Photogenic doesn't even begin to describe him.

I started touching up and altering these photos and he expressed interest in them right away.

I love doing this, always have, but never focused on one subject and therefore never gained anyone's admiration for it. Its like art's little cousin. Or maybe its art and I just don't know it.

I watched an interview he did, and he described post-production as those guys that edit everything afterwards, and it may not be exactly what the writer wrote to begin with, that they have to say "...I'm the storyteller as well."

I totally got it. I don't make take the picture. I'm not in the picture. The photo is fine as is. But I like to dress it a little, make it scary or ethereal or confusing.

I'm trying not to gush here (haha, bad pun as this is a slasher guy) but it's incredibly uplifting for someone to really enjoy this and for me to know its MY eye that sees what that photo could be, and turn it into that.

This has changed my mood from the awfulness of Friday afternoon. I'm not saying that Friday afternoon wasn't horrible. It was. But that was as a result of feeling less than. Maybe I needed a Leo around, in some capacity, to counteract that poison fed to me regularly in other areas of my life.

Relief. Someone who writes about unspeakable terror and horror, who invests in vats of 'blood' and rusty weaponry -- helped to loose that knot of tension. That is such a surprise, and yet -- not surprising at all. I feel a slight vibe of friendship. Many thanks to the slasher guy for that.

Aug. 2nd, 2013


the universe

A bad, bad day. That's the title of a children's book, did you know that?

It's also the perfect description of my Friday, from noon onwards.

I don't like being threatened. I don't like having a total sense of helplessness engulf me and I certainly don't like feeling that all my endeavors are for nothing and becoming so angry that I cry.

I should reflect on something besides my maddening day. Something mind boggling but not anger related.

If I sit and think too long, I might feel that the universe is conspiring against me. I know this is not the case, because on some level I suspect the universe is inside our head. That's an odd pill to swallow. All the things in our universe are encapsulated inside our noggins and we only use 10 to 15 percent of what's in there, so that must mean we are wasting parts of the universe.

Yeah, time for bed. I need 3 good dreams tonight to erase my nightmare of an afternoon.

Posted via m.livejournal.com.

Aug. 1st, 2013



When days melt into nights, as it has been these last few days -- I crumble.
I have nights where I stare into the blackness and wonder exactly what is next, and all the while dreading the answer. There are so many variables...I feel like that guy on that movie; what movie was that...it was a good one... Oh, yes, the last Men in Black movie where the guy lived in all possible worlds simultaenously. He never knew which world he was in and what THING was going to happen.
How miserable and desirable that must be.

I don't want to know everything and already I know too much about some things. You can NOT un-know something. Once you know, you know. Just like those horror movies that are oftentimes entirely too much like real life: the girl or the kid or the teenage boy sees the man in the bloody mask chop up the uncle or the aunt or the friend or whoever...all gore, right in front of him, or her. And if they live, they will see it forever. Maybe they will stay sane, maybe they will go crazy. Maybe they will teeter on the brink of both until one side tips a bit much with a breeze and there is your Fate's answer.

Once I finally finished my beloved Monster, something unlocked in my head and heart and in me. I felt the burden of those chains called "unfinished" fall away. Then I started noticing that I had re-developed an interest in horror and scary and all those awful things that I tucked away in a little box once I became a mom. It's easy enough to shield little ones from the scary stuff. Now, it's hard for me to stay away from it.

Horror stars are some the kindest and friendliest people on this planet. How exceptionally hilarious, but at the same time, it's gratifying to know that they can scare the hell out of you on the big screen and if you were to bump into them on the street, they'd buy you a cup of coffee and tell you funny stories about how this or that happened.

I've got stars in my eyes. Here's hoping I don't bump into any walls.

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