Caffeine Induced

Moved:

smoness — Wed, 05 Oct 2011 19:32:41 GMT

I know... I've been gone for eons and you're all mad at me for the lack of posting. Thanks for the phone calls and emails. But here's what's up: I've been ridiculously busy focusing on my health and getting my professional life as well as my creative life more in order. That being said, I've moved. I'll no longer be blogging here. I've condensed my professional site and my blog into one. singular. website. It's so amazing I can barely breathe. I have a lot more work to do getting the site finished. But you can now follow me (and I promise I'm gonna start blogging regularly again) over at lindseysmolensky.com.

Thanks for all the years of love here on LJ and I hope to see you around my new digs.

XOXO,
~Lindsey

Quick Update:

smoness — Wed, 30 Mar 2011 19:41:09 GMT

Yeah... I know. I have this blog thing that I've been neglecting. It's not so much that I don't have anything to write about because, BOY HOWDY do I have all kinds of material. My life is anything but boring. I've simply had no motivation to be here. Where I am going about my regular, crazy-hectic life per usual, I'm really having to push myself through it. My health has been taking a nose dive as of the last couple of months and I've been putting everything I have into fixing it. I'm seeing new doctors, not the least of whom is a Psychiatrist. My first time ever dabbling in the mental health maintenance.

Without getting too involved: I'm a straight-up bad-ass when it comes to battling what it's like to live with a chronic illness. It's in my nature to be so determined to have a life around it. But the last few months or so, the instinct to do so has lessened and I'm now having to make a daily conscious decision to push my body through each day. It's mentally and emotionally exhausting. Hence, throwing in the white towel and visiting with a Psychiatrist. I really don't have anything to say about him yet as we've only met once so far. And long story short, the medication we're trying isn't helping so much as it's making me more sick. Really sick. So yeah... that's where I'm at right now: Somewhat frustrated and generally feeling like I've been run over by a dump truck.

On the positive though, we are working toward a solution (or multiple solutions for that matter). It's just a long battle with few to no immediate results. It's not leaving me with much time to update here. But I am here. I'm still kicking. Illness(es) aside, life is most excellent.

Sappy, but a Goodie:

smoness — Mon, 07 Mar 2011 19:51:43 GMT

This last Saturday I had the honor of photographing one of the coolest chicks on the planet. For six hours. In a parking garage, city parks and downtown lots. At a famous, Houston restaurant and the surrounding property of the Menil Collection. We climbed trees, scaled walls and waterfalls, and even climbed into an abandoned shopping cart. Through rain and sunshine and a ridiculous cold front brought by crazy wind gusts that almost killed me. And it was by far one of the funnest days of my life. Not a single second of it felt like work. Seriously, just look at the joy that spews out of this girl.

If you ever need to learn a thing or two about how to take only the greatest things out of life, how to insert joy and positivity into everything you do, how to love and nurture the best (and even the worst) parts of yourself before being able to love and nurture the best and worst parts of others, talk to Deanna.

She's fearless, totally hardcore, and one of the strongest and most loving human beings I know. Which is saying a lot coming from me. Deanna isn't just one heck of an awesome model, but she's a great friend. And I'm gonna miss the bajeebus out of her when she runs off to culinary school in New York.

I'd wish her luck, but she doesn't need it. Deanna takes whatever the world throws at her and uses it to her benefit. If I'm going to hope for anything for her, it's that she never loses sight of that. A practice most adults I know still struggle to master. Deanna's a rare breed for sure, and I'm incredibly lucky to know her.

This from the girl who has ingested some form of coffee every day since she was ten years old.

smoness — Tue, 22 Feb 2011 18:00:22 GMT

Exactly one week ago yesterday, I was sitting across from my latest doctor as he dropped the bomb on me that I was to give up drinking coffee. For at least a few weeks. And when he, along with a handful of disaster relief workers were finally able to talk me off the ledge from which I was precariously dangling, I managed to oblige the ~~asshole~~ sweet doctor. I recall responding to him firmly, and with confidence saying, "If you tell me that I need to give up coffee for this treatment to be effective, I'll do it." When internally I was actually experiencing something comparable to the movies Armageddon and Titanic meeting up for drinks, which in turn ended with Armageddon following Titanic up to her hotel room and nine months later Titanic pops out a baby comprised of nothing but absolute terror and panic and death, with the voice of Celine Dion. That baby is what I went through in my sweet doctor's office that day. Minus Liv Tyler's lips and Kate Winslet's boobs. IT WAS THAT AWFUL.

Cut to the next day, my first without coffee, and DEAR GOD did I want to die. There are no words to accurately express what my body went through. Not to mention, what my brain went through. For example, I give you one of my many effed up text messages from that day:

"I think I'm dying. Unless the bright light I'm seeing is an alien unicorn ship attempting to make contact with me. In which case, please disregard this message. But seriously, I'm pretty sure it's the first one. Caffeine withdrawals are a bitch."

They just kept getting worse. And poor Rhonda. Poor, poor, wonderful Rhonda. I should buy her a Disney Princess or something equally as magical for putting up with me that day.

But, hey! It's been a whole week without coffee and I'm surviving! Turns out, one caffeine pill each morning and copious amounts of hot tea will do the trick. And dare I say it: I feel better. I HATE (am seriously and with all of the conviction in my body, using the word HATE) to admit things like, I'm sleeping better. And I have more energy. And I feel a little less exhausted. And my tummy is happier. That ~~asshole~~ sweet, SWEET doctor of mine was right, which means I now have to buy him a Disney Princess, too (this process is getting rather expensive). And now that I've seen what the grass is like on both sides of the fence, I'm tempted to stay off the coffee for good.

I KNOW. Pack for the apocalypse people, it's coming.

Well Played, Ikea. Well Played.

smoness — Mon, 07 Feb 2011 20:06:27 GMT

Last October my Grandmother (Grams) turned a whopping 80 years young, and one month later she finally retired. With retirement came the cleaning out of her massive office. It was like a second apartment where she kept and displayed many family photos, collectibles, plants, things people often brought her from their travels, and so. much. more. I'm not going to go as far as to call my grandmother a hoarder because she's far from it. But simply put, she likes to keep things. She hates messes but she's perfectly fine with organized clutter. You know, neat piles. Which has worked for her for many years, but since she recently moved everything from her office of fifteen years to her already quite lived in apartment... well... it was overwhelming to say the least.

A couple of weeks ago I received a panicked phone call from Grams that bordered on the side of death-con five and could I please for the love of all that is holy, help her find a way to coexist with the mountains of stuff. I reassured her that she had come to the right place, explaining that I harbored a very intimate relationship with my label maker, and I could be there in a couple of days. Long story short, we've had two big cleaning sessions so far. Mere drops in a soon-to-be incredibly neat and tidy ocean (whatever that means), and we've a long way to go yet.

But! Point being, all of the reorganizing and cleansing new beginnings and so forth have inspired me to apply some of those methods at home. Last week I tore into our bedroom closets. Filling trash bags with clothes and shoes to donate and completely restyling our closet space. By the time I'm finished, every closet in our house will be 100% functional to our needs and no longer used as "dump or hide-away" space. In order to get to that goal line however, it requires things like containers and separators and other neatly organizy gadgets. Which loosely translates to three trips to Ikea in one week. I KNOW. But as insane as Ikea can be (oh GOD, we were there on Saturday. SATURDAY. IN. IKEA.), those Swedes sure know how to structuralize their shit. Also? They apparently have a sense of humor.

Now ask me how many of those bins we bought.

I'd Drink that Punch:

smoness — Wed, 02 Feb 2011 19:29:00 GMT

My boss/dad is in Mexico. Specifically some private beach condo thing that has an infinity pool with hot tub and post card views. No exaggeration. In fact, here are two cell phone photos my boss's/dad's best friend posted to his Facebook yesterday afternoon:

*Yeah, I kind-of hate them, too...

Now I'm not begrudging the boss any time off because the man works like a mule and deserves it. But when he is gone, my work load in the office gets to levels of "not fun" that make me want to take up sniffing glue. Because I'm having to pick up slack where needed, I had to be in my office this morning at 7:00. Which means I had to get up at an hour that I thought only existed in myth. Which also means that I walked Sugar before sunrise. In the 18-ish degree weather. A task I was intending to accomplish in about two-and-a-half minutes.

Cool thing about this freezing weather in parts of Texas that aren't prepared for it: generators are exhausted from all of the extra power usage and as a result, the state of Texas is going through regularly scheduled rolling blackouts. To conserve power. So that we don't have actual, long term blackouts. Causing things like space heater stores and Starbucks to close. Which in turn would cause rioting at a rate of devastating proportions. We first world-ers can't handle normal functioning without our coffee chains and immediate comforts.

Where was I?
Right! Rolling blackouts!

So here I am outside the electricity powered gate of our property in the freezing cold when one of these blackouts hits (which at the time I knew nothing about... thanks for the head's up, power companies). And the gate? She has no manual override. And since this is not Star Wars and I have no Tauntaun to cut open and crawl into for warmth, I might have experienced a brief moment of internal panic. Because let's face it, I'm a giant pussy and I need my space heaters and Starbucks. One of my (and Sugar's) favorite neighbors walked up at the same moment, arriving home from his daily morning stroll (fucking masochist). And right then he, along with the current employee stationed at our property's front gate decided that the only way to open the gate was to detach it from the mechanical arm. Which required tools. That were inside the property. Behind the gate. That won't open.

Dear God, why are there never any Tauntauns around when you need them?

I looked at the gate. I looked at my neighbor. I looked at the gate again and said, "I think I can squeeze under it and get some tools out of our house." The neighbor just blinked at me. "No, really," I said. "I can fit through that." So I handed him Sugar's leash, pancaked my backside down on the ground, reached up to grab the bottom of the gate and pulled myself through. After much celebration and confetti, I ran home to get the necessary tools to remove the gate's arm. When I walked in through the back door, Rhonda was standing in the kitchen holding a candle. Naked. It was almost cult-like and yet so beautifully awesome that were she actually performing some sort of strange ritual in our kitchen, I'd have ingested all the punch she could serve. Unfortunately I had no time for naked chanting or whatever it is naked cult people do in their kitchens. And poor Rhonda was given no time to comprehend my verbal spewing, "Wrench set!" "Flashlight!" "WhatTheHell,You'reNaked!" "Dammit, I have to run!"

By the time I got back, a good handful of neighbors had arrived on scene and together we managed to get both gates detached and open. At which point they dubbed me the hero of the day. And then we ate Robin's minstrels, and there was much rejoicing.

Heart of Glass:

smoness — Mon, 31 Jan 2011 15:21:48 GMT

Most human beings have a heart that looks like this:

Source unknown

I'm pretty sure mine looks like this:

A rough draft, a work in progress, hoping to paint it to canvas nice and big real soon.

Dead Serious:

smoness — Thu, 20 Jan 2011 16:32:47 GMT

In the name of mild insanity with a sprinkling of deeply rooted passion for philanthropy (in this case, a local organization that I love), I'm turning to you, Internet. See, I'm a big fan of the AssistHers here in Houston. They do amazing work. And I'm hoping they'll be around for many, many, many years to come because in my later stages of life I may very well need to turn to this organization. Then again, I may not. But you never know, right? Regardless, they're incredibly compassionate people doing incredibly compassionate work and I support that. So much so that I'mma throw down right now:

The AssistHers have teamed up with Tattooed For Good and are putting on a weekend long fund-raising extravaganza THIS WEEKEND:

I only JUST found out about this. And I intend to go. But I had this mildly brilliant idea to spice up my attendance a little bit (do you see where this is going? right now my Mother is reading this and thinking, "oh lord, not another one..."). Here's where you come in, Internet. I have created a donation button via PayPal and I would very much like for you to click on it and drop a donation for the AssistHers organization. It can be $1, it can be $500. You name the price. If I can raise up to or (hopefully) more than $500 before Saturday (day after tomorrow), I will get a tattoo on Saturday. Not only will I get a tattoo, but I will make a movie of my tattoo experience and share it with all of you wonderful donors on the Internet. SERIOUSLY. And if for whatever reason, the donations I receive do not match my goal of $500, I'll get a piercing instead. And either way, whatever money we collect here I will absolutely donate. All of it. I'm not here to make a profit. I just want to help out the organization and perhaps score some new body art in the process. Sound like a deal?! C'mon Internet, don't let me down. Step up to the plate and give a little. And maybe, just maybe you guys can come up with enough money to make me go get another tattoo. The gauntlet has been thrown.

*Click the button below to donate!

**Added Note: Rhonda just informed me that if we can raise double my goal of $500 (that's $1,000 y'all!) she will also get a tattoo. SERIOUSLY. So get to donating, people! It's for charity! And let's be honest, you'd totally love to see both of us get inked... make it happen.

"The climb is never the hard part, actually."

smoness — Wed, 19 Jan 2011 21:47:03 GMT

Erasing tiny fragments of
breath like escaping pain:
A forced reentry.
Clawing like a sky-starved prisoner.
Fingernail to stone, I draw you nearer.

You are the fog and I am the steps.
Or maybe I'm the fog
and you're the headlights of the oncoming traffic.
Slicing the air the way fingers slice thighs,
leaving behind stories in these gestures
like fingerprints on glass.

We count the inhalations
and check off each exhale
as if we're adding up our earnings.
As if we'd accomplished something worth while.
Like building character
the way a scratch on a lens adds vein for a pulse.

I am the scratch
and you are the pulse.
Or rather, we are the pulse
and those stairs aren't going to climb themselves.

And I Did it Without a Single Stick of Butter, Yaaawwwl!

smoness — Wed, 12 Jan 2011 19:26:45 GMT

For the last oh, five-ish(?) months Rhonda and I have been really adamant about cooking at home. A stark contrast to our old lifestyle of, "What are we ordering in for dinner tonight, Honey?" Beyond that we've been extremely aware of what we're putting in our bodies (for health reasons), which is forcing us to be less lazy about where we get our food. We've fallen in love with farmer's market produce and grains. It's amazing how different spinach straight from the farm tastes compared to spinach in a bag from the grocery store. Not to mention, I feel so much better about handing my money to my hard working rural neighbors instead of a grocery chain. I do try to buy local as much as I can and this is one very easy (and much healthier) way to do that.

Not only does this new lifestyle require that we get up off our butts on the weekends to hit the farmer's markets, but it also requires that we do something with all of those amazing farmer's market goods. I've put in a lot of hours looking up recipes and nutrition info. As an unexpected side effect I'm discovering that I genuinely enjoy preparing our meals most nights. I'm having a lot of fun doing the research, coming up with ideas and experiments, executing them and finding out that these concoctions are really quite tasty. And when all is said and done, I FEEL BETTER. My body feels better for excluding everything processed from my diet, and my spirit feels better for the knowledge I'm gaining as well as the validation for rockin' out some seriously amazing dishes. There's nothing better than putting in some effort, to receive floods of positive feedback. And last night's concoction was no exception. I sifted through about 20 different turkey loaf recipes to get an idea of what ingredients were staples and what ingredients were interchangeable. Then I sat down and wrote out a recipe full of tastes that Rhonda and I love, being sure to include specific nutrients our bodies needed (I was in desperate need of a protein + iron kick last night). And thus, the Turkey Spinach Roll/Loaf Thing was created.

*Click the recipe for a larger, reader & printer friendly view.

OMG, you guys... it's SO GOOD. I went nuts over every bite last night, and I just devoured it for my lunch today.

"Oooooooooooohhhh!"

"Aaaaaaaaahhhhh!"

"Aaaaaawwww Yeeeeaaaahhh!"

"Through the Eyes of a Child"

smoness — Fri, 07 Jan 2011 16:21:20 GMT

If you live in or around the Houston area and you have not yet been to Discovery Green Park for their holiday season transformation, I highly suggest that you get over there. From the lights, to the ice rink, to hot beverage stand, to the horse drawn carriages, to the amazing art installations: It's an incredible space to explore. Particularly the "Through the Eyes of a Child" installation.

""Through the Eyes of a Child" features glowing ornaments in the live oak trees along the Brown Foundation Promenade (at Discovery Green Park). The 28, five-foot-diameter globes are internally-lit by energy-efficient fluorescent lights and bring to life color photographs taken by students under the direction of David Graeve created in partnership with Buffalo Bayou Art Park."

Pictures don't do it justice. It's stunning in person. Go. Go now. Have a hot chocolate for me.

The Date Box - Find the Red Button:

smoness — Wed, 05 Jan 2011 18:39:32 GMT

Okay, we did not actually, per say, pull this activity from The Date Box. But! It is in The Date Box to be pulled. It was one of a few Date Box activities that we both knew about before hand. Therefore we discussed it with people when explaining The Date Box in casual conversation. And people (mainly, some of my favorite relatives) got excited about this particular date and begged to set this one into motion. Even though we had not yet drawn it from the box. But who are we to pass up an awesome outing? The great hunt for the red button was on!

A little bit of info about the red button from an interview with the artist, Dean Ruck:

"Well, the location for the button itself was just something that was accessible to pedestrians up there. It is not labeled, and that is important to it – from my idea that – I didn’t want to announce it as a piece of art. It’s – it’s an occurrence, an event, a happening. The button itself is up there unannounced, and so it creates a – a real curiosity to people that come across it – it’s just a red button. Do I push it or don’t I? – You know? What’s it gonna do? So, I liked that idea that it’s not a labeled or plaque piece of art. It’s just something that people discover. Obviously it’s – there’s a certain ephemeral quality to it because it’s not always there to see. It happens occasionally. You have to be – here at the right time to see it. It creates a certain mythology of its own by what’s going on there, what it’s for, what its function is, how it’s – how it’s created. So I like that idea of it not being thought of or – or seen as a piece of art, but it just – something in the bayou."

Rhonda and I have been talking about finding the infamous red button for many, many months. We knew, roughly what area of downtown it resides, and that's it. We didn't know what the button did. We didn't know the exact location. We were anxious, not only for the grand pushing of the red button, but also for the quest... for the adventure sure to accompany such a quest.

[SPOILER ALERT! If you read beyond this point, you'll see where the red button is... just sayin'.]

Adventure, it was. Trudi, Katie, Erin, Rhonda and I traipsed all over Sesquicentennial Park and The Wortham Center, searching high and low for the red button. We asked passers by if they knew where it was. They quickened their pace away from us because they thought we were crazy. We stumbled upon another art installation by the same artist, Dean Ruck. We found and photographed pretty leaves. We saw a guy wipe out on a Segway. We saw the city of Houston from new angles. We heard a screech and caught a glimpse of Trudi high-tailing it across the street toward the red button. We followed suit. We celebrated.

OMG! The red button! We found the red button! Confetti and glitter! Yaaaayyyyy!

Except... when we FINALLY pressed the red button. A moment of glory comparable only to staking a flag at the top of Mt. Everest (yes, it was THAT exciting). Nothing happened.

Everyone was sad. These are their sad faces. It was a very anti-climactic moment.

Moments later, a family also in hot pursuit of the red button, told us what the red button did. And based on some previous knowledge combined with the fact that Rhonda is a damn good Nancy Drew, we learned that the button was, for lack of better terms, out of order. It did appear however, that it would be working again very soon. So... red button quest 2.0 anyone?

The Date Box - Fort Day:

smoness — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 17:08:45 GMT

You remember when you were in high school and you got a "D" on your report card in a subject matter that you will use once in your life (this single class and then never again) but regardless, you're pretty sure your parents are going to kill you for not excelling at trigonometric basket weaving, so (sweet bajeebus this is the longest run-on sentence ever) you tell your parents you're pregnant? And as they're simultaneously reaching for the knife drawer you shout, "NO! Not really! But I'm a complete failure at finding out how many isosceles triangles it takes to make a macrame owl. I'm so sorry, I'll go pour the white-out on my college applications now." You know?! No? Just me? Moving on...

When we drew "Fort Day!!!" out of The Date Box, my tiny pea of a brain decided it was the most brilliant idea ever to lead with, "So honey, I think we should first mount some hooks in the ceiling. You know, so this can be one serious, bad motherfucker of a fort." And then ten minutes later after two more mugs of coffee and intensive sessions of CPR, I was at least able to use things like light stands, broom handles and tent poles instead of couch cushions. Couch cushions are for amateurs. Or five-year-olds.

My parents should be happy to read that I did, indeed use some form of Physics (that's science!) to construct our fort. The rest of my energy was spent reassuring Rhonda that I wasn't going to poke anyone's eye out. See, Rhonda's idea of a fort is a sheet over the dining room table. I was less than supportive or understanding of her vision. Because, see, MY vision was very tunneled in the direction of "serious, bad motherfucker of a fort." I wanted to "WOW" Rhonda with my mad fort skillz. An hour later, as we lounged and made out in the coziest, prettiest fort that ever did fort, I'd say I WON.

Three days later, we finally took it town.

Presenting, The Love Hut:

You can see Rhonda's step-by-step documentation of the fort construction HERE.

And Every Time We'd Say Something About Our Box, We'd Giggle Like 12-Year-Old Boys:

smoness — Mon, 03 Jan 2011 15:54:37 GMT

Every year Rhonda and I have the week between Christmas and New Year's off from work. We try to take advantage of that time to travel, but this year (for a number of reasons) we weren't feeling the whole traveling thing. And if you know anything about me at all, you definitely know that I'd sooner cut off a limb than sit around the house on my ass for ten days. Solution? The Date Box.

For a month or so prior to our holiday, Rhonda and I kept separate lists of things we'd like to do together. Some pretty large, full day activities. Some were mere jaunts or a good way to kill an hour or two. We bought a lovely, raw wood box and painted it together. We wrote down each of our list items on little cards, folded them, and tossed 'em in the box. Every day for the week we were off, we would pull things out of our box (tee-hee) and NO MATTER WHAT, we had to do whatever we drew. Depending on the time of day and type of activity we selected, we would postpone an outing here and there. We rearranged our dates as necessary, and it worked out extremely well. In fact, we loved the whole Date Box thing so much that we're going to keep writing down dates and depositing them in the box as they come to us. And on weekends or evenings when we don't have anything going on, we'll consult our box (tee-hee).

For our holiday week, The Date Box gave us:

-Try a new coffee shop/cafe.
-Take a walk somewhere new.
-Find and go see some live music.
-Fort Day!!!
-Go bowling.
-Go to a random museum.
-Try a new restaurant.
-Go on a reading field trip.
-Go see a movie at The Showboat Drive-In Movie Theater.

These things were of course, in addition to our regularly scheduled holiday celebrations. Also throughout the week, if we were invited by friends to take part in something outside of our box (tee-hee), we totally went for it. Our major goal for the ten days was not so much to stick strictly to any rules, but to go with the flow and do whatever the week presented to us. Therefore we also got to squeeze in tons of lunch and dinner dates with friends. A field trip to the movies and a new tea house. A shopping and Starbucks sprint through Target. Lots of fun family time. And many, many incredible hours of sleep (DEAR LORD I'd forgotten how wonderful it is to sleep 'til noon). All in all? Last week kicked ass. And in the next few (to possibly many) posts, I'll be detailing our awesome dates. Aww, yeah... get ready for Fort Day photos.

Happy New Year from the RubinSmo Manor:

smoness — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 08:01:54 GMT

Me, Rhonda, Adam, Ileya, & Sugar

The four of us hit up Tila's Restaurant for a Motown themed New Year's Eve bash. Old School Harmony was there bringing the house down with fantastic tunes and cheesy dance moves. We were served incredible food, complimented heavily on our fun outfits, and somewhere tossed in there was a pitcher of sangria and some Champagne. All in all? A fantastic way to ring in 2011. Also, I nearly peed myself with laughter at Rhonda and her new found love of "bobsy" hair.

Happy New Year, everyone. Here's hoping it kicks even more ass than the last.

Happy Holidays from the RubinSmo Manor:

smoness — Mon, 27 Dec 2010 05:50:04 GMT

We like to have fun with different themes every year for our holiday card. This years card? Full of concert shirts from the many live shows we've been to together (plus a couple extras). In no particular order: Flogging Molly, Shiny Toy Guns, Pat Benatar, White Rabbits, Social Distortion, Lucero, Against Me, Gaslight Anthem, The Airborne Toxic Event, Rolling Stones, and Journey. One of the things we love to share with each other the most is our love of live music. Or really, music in general. Sugar loves it, too. She's pretty shy and would never say so otherwise, but she's an excellent dancer. Her modeling however, leaves much to be desired.

May your holiday season be filled with all kinds of joy, however you choose to celebrate.

Lots of love and good music,
~The Ladies of RubinSmo Manor

On the Need to Create, Escape & Tiny Nuggets of Things I Generally Hate to Talk About:

smoness — Mon, 20 Dec 2010 21:15:52 GMT

If you ask an artist why they're an artist, it would be in your best interest to get comfortable because there is no singular answer. I could quite possibly fill a book with the multitude of responses to that question. I don't recall ever stopping to think about why I began creating or why I've stuck with it through the majority of my life. But I do know that I need creative outlets to survive: that if I didn't have a means to export the things going on inside of me, I'd assuredly go insane. Standards of normalcy suggest Van Gogh may have been an absolute lunatic for cutting off his ear, but I kind-of get it. Studies have proven that if you were to bind the arms of someone who fervently talks with their hands, they would lose the ability to communicate effectively. They would stutter and babble and become quickly frustrated by the absence of their tools to transmit. Given some time, they become agitated, depressed, and filled with a sense of loss. -- Take away my camera, canvases, muses, brushes... and the next portrait of myself may very well be shy a little symmetry.

I wouldn't even say so much that artistic output is my therapy, although there are therapeutic benefits. It's a focal point. It's a horizon line on which to fixate when the boat just won't. Stop. Rocking. It's a distraction from all of the things I can't escape: more specifically, my body. Were I prompted to sum up what it's like to live inside of a body plagued by a chronic illness, I'd tell you to imagine being bound in a straight jacket, locked in a small, hot room that smells like vomit. Every so many hours, days or sometimes even weeks, someone will let you out for fresh air and a maybe a relaxing bath before going back to the shackles. Which, upon re-reading that last analogy, seems rather flared for the dramatic. And I hate that. I hate that an honest discussion about my body feels like an exaggerated complaint. I hate it so much that I don’t talk about it. I so desperately do not want to be that person: the one focused on the Shakespearean, martyred tragedy of it all. I’m so adamantly against it that I’ve filled my life with activities, people, laughter, deadlines, projects, life, excitement and love just to give myself a sense of sanity over my complete lack of control.

I live hard. I live so hard that I wear myself out (understatement. See: epitome of exhaustion), and then I’m back in bed rejuvenating for the next round of punches. Oftentimes people ask me why, oh why do I do that to myself? I can’t think of any answer to give other than it’s the only way I know to survive the state of entrapment in one’s own body. If I didn’t push my body to physical limits, if I didn’t fuel my life with pockets of adrenaline, I’d be on the sofa at home on disability. I wouldn’t have anything to cling to to get me out of bed every morning. I would get too tired and depressed to fight with my body every day. I’d be miserable. I much prefer cycles of “go, go, go! Aaaannnnd CRASH” to the alternative of spending my days focused on being trapped inside of myself. Even if the crash period is extremely hard on me. It’s still better than lazing about in a constant state of depression. At which point, I’ve no doubt that I would literally try to claw out of my own skin. And just like that, Van Gogh appears far more kindred than spectacle. Like I said, I kind-of get it.

Not too long ago, I was talking to someone about the fact that I can’t remember what it’s like to mindlessly attack life. To take on each day without having to first plan it out in scenarios where potentially I’m so ill I can barely move, or the nausea stays at bay for the day. I never know what’s going to happen so I have to prepare for everything. Every minute. Of every day. Because of this, I used to be terrified of purchasing tickets to events or planning any type of formal evening away from home. Travel would freak me out. Any group situations where an attack of my nausea would affect the good time of multiple people would make me nervous. For a while, I had a serious complex about going anywhere. Eventually I got over it and decided I could just handle it on a need-to basis instead of closing myself off to life. But it took me a long time to get to that point and that’s not to say that I still don’t get uneasy about those situations. I’m simply more adapt at standing up to the anxiety. I’m also far more comfortable with the guilt complex I’d suffer for feeling as though I’m inconveniencing everyone around me. I can handle the CVS affecting my plans, but when my illness affects the lives of the people closest to me, I have a hard time swallowing that pill. But again, I’m much better at letting those things go.

The point remains however, that my brain is in some way constantly focused on how to live around the nausea. I obsess over what I eat. I have to schedule periods of rest in preparation for things like concerts or travel. Where most people need about 45 minutes to freshen up for an evening out, I have to schedule a couple of hours and 45 minutes so that I can nap first. Otherwise I can almost guarantee a breakdown of my body. There are some nights when I’m so exhausted I can barely see straight, but I can’t go to sleep until I can quell the overwhelming feeling of vomit in my chest. There are days completely free of nausea, but every bone and muscle in my body still ache from dealing with the stress, dehydration and exhaustion from previous episodes. My body is constantly changing. Because I don’t absorb all of the nutrients I put in, my skin has become incredibly sensitive. My weight yo-yos drastically. My immune system straight-out sucks. Consequently, this means I further obsess about things like vitamins, skin care, and keeping a wardrobe in a range of sizes because I never know what my body type is today. It makes shopping for clothes extremely frustrating. It makes me want to cover up all of the time. I tend to hide my skin and my weight behind oversized clothing. People like to criticize me for being too thin. Even when they know I have an illness and I fight the fact that I’m too thin every day. Solution? =Baggy jeans and hoodies.

January 27th will mark the eighth year of battling the Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome. And where yeah, it's hard, it's gotten better. Or at least, I've gotten better at managing it and a life around it. Most of the time you wouldn't even know I'm sick because I'm damn good at living a really happy and awesome life around the illness. I try not to think about it any more than I have to. It's not a focus for me, regardless the amount with which I have to address it on a daily basis. It's a part of me and how I live my life, but it has nothing to do with who I am. And my only major concern is that I'm able to keep it that way.

A First For Me:

smoness — Thu, 16 Dec 2010 15:20:46 GMT

Christmas in New Orleans.

As many times as I've been to New Orleans in my life, I have never been there during the winter months. I grew up visiting NOLA with my family every summer. And I've lost count of how many times Rhonda and I have visited The Crescent City since we've been together. After so many trips, you get to know the scenery. Neighborhoods become familiar and less surprising. The magic of NOLA stays intact, always. It's part of the way the city draws you in. But it's easy to get complacent about a place you see so often.

It was a really nice and unexpected change in perspective to be there during the holiday season. To see The Quarter blanketed in garlands and bows and twinkling lights. In the cold air you can better pick out those familiar warm smells. Like the beignets at Cafe Du Monde, the incense permeating from the tops of fortune tellers' tables, the chicory coffee, and that warm, sausage-y jambalaya heat. In the summer, the only smell that stands out for me is... well... Bourbon Street.

I'm beyond thrilled that New Orleans now has a softball league, which translates to attending this tournament annually. Not just because HELLO, we get to play softball in New Orleans; but because I now have a damn good reason to be in NOLA for Christmastime. It makes me positively giddy to think of all the potential years to come, exploring one of my favorite spots in the country all over again.

A Little Assurance:

smoness — Wed, 08 Dec 2010 18:29:13 GMT

It was just brought to my attention that Grey's Anatomy actress, Chandra Wilson talked about her daughter's battle with Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome on The Talk. I specifically like that she's adamant in conveying that the symptoms have nothing to do with the afflicted person doing anything wrong or creating the illness in their head; but that this is an actual medical problem that is out of anyone's control. That no one can help when, or for how long it happens. That the people around the person with the illness are essentially helpless through an episode and you just have to let it run its course. And that once the episode is over, the person returns to normal function almost instantly.

Regardless the fact that I know all of those things. That I have a diagnosis. That I'm fully aware it's not in my head. That there is in fact something medically wrong with me that I battle every day. That I'm not in some screwed up, subconscious way, creating this illness. I KNOW these things. But it's still really, really nice and comforting to hear it from someone else who has been there.

Random Doesn't Even Begin to Cover It:

smoness — Thu, 02 Dec 2010 19:43:05 GMT

*I've been working on a rather lengthy and in depth blog post for a couple of weeks now. My inability to finish said post has caused me to avoid this space. Like that really good friend of yours you sometime avoid seeing because you lost that DVD you borrowed two months ago.

*I've been really backed up with unfinished projects. I have some serious scheduling to work out. I never have enough time to be as creative as I want to be. I'm hoping to change that drastically in the very near future. I'm also incredibly antsy to launch a new project that I'm not ready to talk about yet, but it's going to be nothing short of amazing.

*After five months of not being able to schedule a hair appointment (A HAIR APPOINTMENT. This is how busy I am. I can't even get my hair cut. I was beginning to look like I sleep under a bridge. Which is sometimes not far off the mark when I manage to sleep flat with my pillow over my head. Those mornings? Hair ties are a girl's best friend. Where was I? Right), I cut my hair yesterday. With actual scissors. By myself. Some at work and some at home. It was a progressive project. I wanted to take my time, see, because I'M NOT A HAIR STYLIST. But I play one on the Internet. It looks really, quite, actually, damn good. Except for maybe my bangs. Because I stuck a bobby pin in my hair as a guide line and then just hacked off about four inches. At an angle. You know, for that pretty "sweeping" effect. I'm not sure if it was me, the scissors, or the tilt of the earth, but that part didn't come out the way I'd imagined it would in all my wildest fantasies (Shut up, everyone has hair fantasies. Don't tell me you don't do it, too). Long story short... I mostly fixed it and I feel pretty like a flower again. And I didn't have to make an appointment or pay anyone! Score!

*Sugar is going to the vet this evening. It would appear she has doggy pink eye. Nugget of wisdom from me to you: DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE, GOOGLE IMAGE SEARCH "DOG PINK EYE."

*Also this evening? We're getting a new to us refrigerator. It's my dad's. His is newer than ours and therefore prettier and in better shape. And it makes ice. Ours? Does not. I'm oddly over the moon about this feature. It's the small things. No matter what, though, I'm never getting rid of my skull and crossbones ice tray. NEVER.

*I recently picked up the movies Splash and Risky Business on DVD for five dollars. Outside of the new pack of "80s Glam" Sharpies on my desk right now, this excites me to no end. I foresee an 80's party in our VERY NEAR future. Glitter, spandex and hot loops encouraged. Potential for Tiffany sing alongs. Hmm... what was I supposed to be doing tonight?

Keeping It In the Community:

smoness — Tue, 23 Nov 2010 17:12:51 GMT

Three weeks ago I did a photo shoot with the local theater company, Unhinged Productions.

[From their website]

UNHINGED PRODUCTIONS IS A HOUSTON PRODUCTION COMPANY THAT EXISTS TO PROVIDE A GLBT VOICE IN THEATRE.

Because live theater has a unique ability to create a direct emotional connection with an audience, it can raise awareness on social issues in a way that no other medium can. Unhinged Production selects works that speak, often with humor, to universal experiences that include discrimination, prejudice, and the quest for individuality. By highlighting these similarities, Unhinged can create common ground between diverse communities and promote understanding. Unhinged has been producing professionally staged plays since August of 1998.

We are all about:

Producing High Quality, Cutting Edge and Alternative Work
Confronting discrimination
Developing new plays with local playwrights and talent
Working with emerging artists, actors, writers, designers and directors.
Embracing ethnic, cultural, and gender/sexual diversity.
Affirming the lives of people in the GLBT community.
Offering affordable ticket prices

The images we shot three weeks ago were for promotional materials for their latest production, A Queer Carol. It's a unique spin on the classic story, A Christmas Carol. Tonight I'm heading back to Frenetic Theater for the dress rehearsal for production shots.

*Update: Just received an email via the artistic director that the set is not ready for a shoot tonight. And based on scheduling issues, I may not be able to get production shots now.

Regardless, if you live in the Houston area and you're looking for a little theatrical entertainment, this Friday ("Black Friday") is opening night for A Queer Carol. The show runs through December, 20th and you can purchase tickets HERE. If the production is anything like its cast, it'll be absolutely wonderful. And if you happen to go, let me know about it and I'll give you one of my prints from my print sale at 50% off.

Art Swap 2010:

smoness — Wed, 17 Nov 2010 20:18:13 GMT

If you're an artist or photographer and you're not familiar with David Pringle's Art Swap, you should be. It's a badass thing he's doing.

[From the website]

How it works:

Participating artists are randomly assigned to one-another to send each other art !
Everyone ships their package on the same day !
This time we ship on November 17, 2010
No-one knows who is sending them art until it arrives !
You may be assigned or receive art from someone half-way around the world !
We all share our experiences on Twitter using the hashtag, #ArtSwap
Once the swap is completed, I will make a book available of all of the swapped art !

This is what I've chosen to send:

Alone At Last! Acrylic and India ink on canvas board.

I can't freaking wait to get my art piece in the mail. More so, I'm already stoked about next year's exchange!

I Couldn't Have Said it Better Myself:

smoness — Tue, 16 Nov 2010 20:39:09 GMT

"Longing for certainty is common to all of us. I have never longed for it so hard or so often as I have during the past year or so – until it struck me that the absence of this longing is exactly what sets the artist apart from everyone else. It might be comforting but it offers no provocation, no challenge.

The truly creative not only adapt and evolve in response to uncertainty, they relish it. They might be disciplined in their work habits but inspiration is often unruly and unreliable. Attempts to control it, to corral it, make dull art. An ability to collaborate with uncertainty has always been the mark of a great artist."

-Hazel Dooney
From Uncertain Future

A Long Pause:

smoness — Mon, 15 Nov 2010 21:59:17 GMT

Finding that I can't seem to look away from these images today.

And wishing I was still there instead of here.

Sugar Monday - Country Kisses Edition:

smoness — Mon, 08 Nov 2010 17:23:08 GMT

It's like dropping your kid off at school three blocks away so that no one will associate them with their tragically un-hip parent. Or perhaps a little bit like when your grandmother licks her finger to get something off of your face in front of all of your friends. GOD FORBID I try to steal a kiss from Sugar when all she wants to do is frolic all over my grandparents' property in the country: one of her favorite places on earth. I mean, c'mon. I'm trying to make some memories here and she's about to pee all over herself because THERE ARE SHEEP IN THE NEIGHBOR'S YARD.