To My Lady in Red…

I dedicate and give this piece to you, the one of a few who I still hold dear in my heart from a life long past.



No friend can compare to this beautiful woman who opened up my spirit to a world filled with strong feminine heroines and dynamic duos. She was my opposite in personality and life style, but the one who encouraged me to explore my imagination and bring out the heroic character in me.

When I first heard of the Lady in Red, it was through a classmate I had known since Junior High. We were friends in a sense that I felt bad that everyone else made fun of her, and I wanted to be the good and compassionate person that could see past the imperfections and find the wonderful person within them. But even I get annoyed with people. So by the time High School came around, I was tolerating the classmate’s presence more than enjoying it. When she told me of how the Lady’s stepmother was co-workers with her own mother, that we would all surely be best friends, I put it in my mind that I needed to avoid the girl as much as humanly possible; put up my walls and not let her in. I won’t deny it; I am a horrible person.

We had home room together, and I too was the one that was made fun of because I didn’t fit myself into the time’s style/personality mold. I drew on my jeans, took all sorts of photos that I would look through by myself…and none of my friends were in the same homeroom as me. When the Lady in Red was seated next to me, saw how I never stood up for myself, but instead kept quiet despite everyone’s criticism and withdrew deeper into my shell…she reached out to touch me. She wanted to see the photos, see what I was drawing, pick my brain of the ideas I had. She wanted to get to know me…she wanted to stand up for me and tell the jerks off for making fun of me.

I can’t say we had a whole lot in common first, and I’m not entirely sure how it was we clicked so well. She was in love with driving, and raced microds. I hate driving. We both watched Xena: Warrior Princess, X-Files…and explored the growing anime interest by watching Sailor Moon, Devil Hunter Yohko, and Dirty Pair; all of which had strong, female heroines. We went to the Renaissance Fair the first summer we hung out and got matching black and red princess hats. The first time I spent the night at her house, I ended up staying for three days in a row! Her stepmother taught us a little bit of self-defense, training herself to teach a class. The Lady in Red was amazing, and inspired me to create the comic behind the images in the painting above.

But, we didn’t…and probably still don’t keep in touch all that well once we graduated from High School. When I moved in with my grandmother and the Lady was in town for the summer, she couldn’t believe how much I had changed. I had hair down past my hips when I graduated, and so when she saw me chasing her car down the street when she past the house for the third time, she thought I was a 12 year old boy. That’s how short I had chopped my hair off to. And then we both moved to separate states; she to the west coast, and I to the south. She was pursuing her career in communications while I was furthering my education in comic books. We talked less and less, but occasionally managed to call each other out of the blue to play catch up. We still do at least once a year.

She’s back in our home town now, and went to our 10 year reunion. Apparently most of the people we once knew managed to get out of town and didn’t come back to relive the memories. I don’t blame them, I didn’t either. The fact of the matter is that those memories are just that…memories; a part of my life that is over with. And most of those people I once knew I really have no desire reconnecting with. There are a few, very few that I still feel so fondly about, such as my Lady in Red, the Earth Warrior, my Twins, and Fabio…but I can honestly say that I’ve moved on from that life. I’m no longer the same person I once was, maybe an evolution of that person, but definitely not the same.

And so I painted this piece for my Lady in Red, in memory of the times we once shared. I’m sure time will reconnect us again on a more regular basis, as I am a firm believer that we were meant to be friends through the thick and thin. So I patiently wait for that time, and pray that the bonds of our friendship will forever remain as strong as they once were.

I try too hard to work on crap.

Yeah, even I don’t know what I’m doing or talking about at times, but I know I try too hard on an idea only to end up ruining it. A sales representative came by the shop a week or so ago to get my boss to buy their product. Nothing new, she’s got some sales reps she likes (especially those who are awesome enough to buy everyone at the shop lunch when he’s lunching with a teacher down the street), but like all sales reps, this guy was giving us free samples to try out. So naturally, I got to play with some products that I had never used before. The main thing he was trying to sell were water soluble stuff, like watercolor pencils. Things you can draw with and then add water to make it look like a painting of sorts. I don’t know, I’ve tried the watercolor pencils and aren’t all that thrilled with them…or the water soluble pastels he was pushing. They’re ok, but I couldn’t really get a feel for them. Below is a mixture of the water soluble pastels, plus some oil pastels by the same company. I’m not too thrilled about it, but I guess it’s the purist in me. If I want to draw, I’ll using drawing supplies. If I want to paint, I’ll use painting supplies. I guess I don’t like combining the two into one product.



It just feels so forced in my hands. So I decided to play with some regular chalk pastels again. However…I have a problem. I stick my face too close to the picture, and see everything that’s wrong with it instead of stepping back to see that it has some good qualities. So in a sense, I’ll never really like my own work, because I try too hard to fix the problems that make it look…ok? Does that make sense?

The perfect example can be seen in a painting I did for my dad. Unfortunately, I don’t have a photograph of it to show, but that really wouldn’t help. You simply have to see it in person. I found a picture of the Seawolf submarine my dad was involved in making earlier in his career, and thus I painted it using gouache…an opaque watercolor over a black board. I worked on it for two weeks, keeping up close to it while I tried to get the colors right. I was so sick of it by the time of the first critique, that when our teacher gave us an extra week to fix any problems, I simply left it behind. When we returned for our final critique, he explained how I was the only one who didn’t take my piece and how it sat in his office. He also said that it didn’t need any fixing up, that as loose and incomplete it looked up close didn’t matter when you stepped back; when you step back, it tightens up and makes the picture. To top it off, when I showed it to my dad from across the room, he thought it was a photograph I had cut out of a magazine. I got hounded by a couple of my other teachers for not producing the same quality work after the fact.

So for those who are wondering what to get me as a gift…a really nice gouache set. Not acryla gouache, as I really can’t stand that stuff…as I mentioned before in my post with the train.

That, or firearms replicas. A friend of mine has a project for me, and looking for pictures with the right angle of a gun is really hard to find. And since I don’t really want a gun in my house until I’m in my 50’s and can start on my dream of being ‘that crazy cat lady who smokes a pipe and sits on her porch holding her shotgun to keep the hoodlums off of her lawn’…not to mention the fact that I don’t own a gun license, I figure collecting replicas would be the next best solution to my reference needs.

Oh! But I got off track again! Right, because I was really talking about these drawings below! You know, the ones with the pastel chalk! So…where did these come from…? The cemetery. I live down the street and around a couple corners from one of the most beautiful cemeteries in the country. So when I had a couple of friends come down to visit me, I had to take them there to enjoy Nature’s Cathedral…and naturally take some pictures! Duh! If I have pictures that I take myself, then I can draw it up and sell it myself! Weeeeee!




The café that we normally order breakfast from during the week actually offered to let me put my work up on display…and maybe to sell. They’ve got someone else’s work up at the moment, but she seems to have left town without taking it with her. Either way, it’s a good way to get some exposure. So, I’m working on some pieces to actually hang up. Just need to figure out a way of hanging them without framing them. Framing…get’s really expensive after a while, and since it’s summer I don’t have the extra cash flow to pay for something like that. Plus, I’ll be putting one up in the window at the shop, as I used products that we sell at the shop, and my main goal is to help my boss sell the supplies. I figure if I can help her make some money first, then I’ll have a better chance to make money for myself later down the road.

It’s a karma thing.

The Little Pixie in All of Us.

I know I know, I said I don’t like doing self portraits of myself, but I have good reason for this one. Last year, Kermit posted a picture from when I was younger that caught my eye, and inspired me to complete this piece.



You would never find me wearing anything like that when I was younger, and the closest you can get me to wear something similar is as long as I’m wearing a pair of jeans underneath. However, for as long as I can remember, I always wanted to be a pixie of sorts. And after reading so many books and stories, legends and myths, and various accounts, whether true or fictional about the fae, I am a firm believer that any creature from the old world, be it elves, dwarves, dragons, faeries, unicorns, including the deities of the world’s ancient cultures have existed before and still exist to this day. We simply need to put faith in them, just as we put faith in ourselves, our families, and our friends around us.

And it is in my friends and family that I believe I’ve seen the most of the mystical creatures. I know a family known for producing twins whose men are born with the slightest of points to their ears. Over time their ears become rounded, but upon looking at the natural beauty of their daughters only proves to me that fae or elf blood runs through their veins. And it was through the daughters of this family that my eyes were open to the beliefs that were deep seeded within my heart, and that perhaps some mystical blood flows through my own family’s veins. My family is rich in Irish and German descent, my father being the grandson of the German man who worked his way into America. My oldest sister is wrapping herself up in our Irish heritage with her curly red locks and learning the art of Irish toe dancing. I still need to save up a bit of money so I can fly up to see one of her recitals.

My middle’s sister’s voice is far more entrancing than any other voice I’ve heard, which makes me wonder if some form of siren was mixed in through the generations; which might also explain my father’s knack of sensing large bodies of water. He gets so confused whenever he comes down to visit me, since there’s a river north of the city, as well as the coast to the east; but since the river is closer, he subconsciously thinks it is east instead of north. I shouldn’t forget what my middle sister won’t let up on me about. She claims that I’m hiding the whereabouts of the fountain of youth from her, but it’s all around her. I can’t think of anyone in my family that looks their age. A part of me blames it on the media, since TV and movies rarely get actors and actresses who are teenagers to actually play teenage roles, but instead get 20+ year olds to play teenage parts…so it’s only natural for some people to get confused as to what someone is suppose to look at a specific age. But I also think that we’ve been blessed to with a youthful bloodline that helps us age more gracefully than others.

We shouldn’t forget the major diversity in the human race. Science has it’s reasoning as to why one person’s skin is darker than another, but there are some things that science has yet to explain, or at least sound all that plausible or less confusing to me; too many long and technical terms. To me, science takes away the magic behind the myths and legends and the mystery in life. It’s so clean and straight forward, no room for the imagination to run away with itself and to cause the need to seek out a different truth…to find the adventure through the unknown. There is no unknown anymore, except in space which requires a bit of science to explore for the moment. It’s probably the hopeless romantic in me, and as much as I adore using the computer to escape from the world I currently live in, a part of me would rather explore a dense uncharted forest in hopes to find a creature of legend.

From what I’ve read in a book my parents bought me during their last visit, Iceland still holds onto their old world beliefs despite being converted to Christianity, all while thriving in modern conveniences. I would love to visit Iceland someday, if not actually live there just to immerse myself in the folklore of days gone by.

Yes…with my inability to wear metal, else I break out in a rash, my petite and youthful stature, as well as my crazy scary temper only affirms myself in believing that there’s more to the world than the human race and what science has to offer. Whether or not anyone else wants to believe it is not up to me to decide. Everyone is entitled to believe what they wish, and I’m not one to stop them from doing so. I only ask that they try not to convince me that I am wrong in where I put my faith, as I will never do so to them. The fact that anyone has faith in anything is a miracle in itself, to which I think is a wonderful thing no matter what they put their faith in. I just wish people would give me that respect…as it’s something that’s very hard to find where I am living now.

Black and White, and a Little bit of Grey.

I have a degree in Sequential Art, but my first one was in Illustration. I was thrilled to be able to write up a general storyline and draw it out. Came out with two issues of a comic before the college I transferred to took up my time. That comic was completely in black and white, as it was cheaper to print it out that way. In one of my classes, though, we got to dabble with pre-printed tones, patterns, and dots. I fell in love with them, but unfortunately, couldn’t afford to get the sheets, or even find the kind of printer transfers to be able to make using them cheaper. Below is the two pages I used the transfer sheets on.





And then last year, my boss bought the left over transfer sheets display, as well as other tools that are used by Japanese comic artists from one of the paint companies we supply at the shop, during an art show the college here sponcers. The packaging was naturally all in Japanese, but came with an English order catalog, to which I perused to see what they had. Ooooh the patterns and designs and dots and everything to make a black and white comic pop out even more! However, I didn’t buy any of the sheets. I think thus far, the only thing that’s sold out of the hole display were the inking pen nibs and inks. Why the sequential department doesn’t take an interest in our shop? It could be because we don’t supply the Col-Erase brand pencils they use, or the blue line paper that are said to be what the professionals use. I learned from my degree that what you use to draw, ink, and color with doesn’t really matter as long as you make good quality work; though I learned the computer coloring is better only because it’s preset for printers. Coloring outside of the computer is bound to lose its original luster and colors because scanners don’t convert the colors to printers very well.

Anyways, buying the sheets from the display would have cost me more money in comparison to buying a CD of prints and patterns. Yes, I found three different pattern CD’s in the catalog to order. So, while ordering another batch of paint for the spring quarter, I put in an order for those three CD’s. Saved me a lot of money, and now I get to play with over four hundred different patterns with my drawings! Each came with a little booklet that gave you a preview of each design and pattern, and a registration card to fill out that gives you full legal rights to using the patterns. I have yet to fill out these cards I have, as it was completely in Japanese…

…I’ll email them about it later. Anyways! Here are a couple of drawings I did while playing with my new toy, as well as the logo up at the top. Enjoy!

Two Very Special Birthday Boys!

Today, though there isn’t any art this time around…and I apologize for missing this last couple of Sundays, as I didn’t have anything I thought worth while to show at the time…today is an extra special day! For it was the day that my boyfriend was born in the year 1972, and my nephew was born in the year 2000! HAPPY BIRTHDAY GUYS!

So, despite having to work all day, as my boyfriend is scheduled to do so, we’ll be going out for sushi come dinner time; my treat to him as it’s something we both enjoy immensely, and can never get enough of due to the lack of funds. I can’t really remember the first birthday present I ever got him, but I do remember our first Christmas together. He’s the first boyfriend I ever brought home for the holidays, and perhaps the only one that I was overly excited to introduce to my parents. I can’t say all of my past boyfriends were bad boys, but out of all of them this one is by far the sweetest and more family sociable.

He loves kids, and when my sister brought her three kids to our parents’ house for Christmas, I knew just who to sick the older two on. While he and my niece and nephew played at one end of the house, Kermit and I were hanging out at the other end. She was startled at how quiet it was, to which I put my arm around her shoulder and wished her a Merry Christmas. “Do I get to take him home with me?” She asked, to which I told her no, because I needed him down here with me.

That Christmas, my dad took him out to gift shop for me. Admittedly, there was little my boyfriend knew for sure what I wanted, and simply got me a couple of books wrapped with an envelope stating that he owed me one LARPing event.

What is LARPing? Live Action Role Playing. Yes, I used to run around in costume and beat people up with foam weapons. But finances got tight, and I’ve had to stop playing. My boyfriend knows how much I love to play make-believe, come up with storylines and pretend to be someone I’m not. So, he made up the IOU so that someday I can play again. I’ve been saving it for an event a couple of friends want to take me to up in the state north of us.

I racked my brain for nearly a month trying to figure out what to get my boyfriend for Christmas, and his best friend who knew him longer than I kept asking me for advice as well. I think I finally got through to him to just simply give the man gift cards, since there isn’t a whole lot of inexpensive things my boyfriend wants. However, I had the luck of figuring out what to get him after “I want a Hippopotamus for Christmas” came onto the radio that year. Since my boyfriend started obsessing over it, as we had never heard it before then, I went out and ordered him a CD with the song on it, as well as an illustrated book that had the lyrics, and topped it all off with a stuffed hippo I saw down the street from where I worked at the time. He plays the CD every Christmas at work now, and the hippo is on a gargoyle post/shelf thing that I have on the corner step of the stairs. A part of me wishes I could get Abby’s farting hippo from NCIS, as I think he would love that for the fact that it’s a prop that coincides with our favorite character in the show.


My sister has named my nephew Scooter on her blog, so I will be calling him that here as well. I got to meet him when he was four months old, when my sister brought him to CAMP so our dad’s friends could meet him. I remember when we went to the airport to pick them up, and Kermit handed him over to me to hold for a moment, it was the most awkward moment. When it comes to babies, I can’t hold them for anything; I sign of my lack in motherly instinct. But I managed long enough for them to take a picture of us, and my sister soon took him out of my arms.

There is a picture of have of him and my other sister lying on the couch. It’s a profile of her, with him lying atop of her chest as he faces the camera. The lighting is soft and warm, but it’s still a rather dark photo. Truly beautiful in showing a maternal glow within my oldest sister. They’ve tried to replicate the photo with the children that followed, but they don’t compare to the original.

Scooter is smart, vibrant, energetic, and quick to learn. His first love was trains, soon followed by tornadoes and later by the Titanic. His brain soaks in information he reads, hears, and watches like a sponge, and he’ll pour it all back out to anyone who will simply listen. My dad bought him his first train set, which we’re in the process of getting fixed up after his younger brother got a hold of it. I even remember talking to Scooter on the phone one time, telling him about the shop my boyfriend and I work at, and how it was filled with model trains and had a layout and all sorts of things I know he’d enjoy. “Mommy! Mommy! Aunt Cere says there’s a store that’s full of trains! We have to go so we can go see the train store!” I forgot to mention about all the layouts the train club has up at the train museum…but I don’t see them visiting me anytime soon.

Here’s hoping your Birthdays are special and filled with all the joys of spending time with your friends and family.