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And by a past life, I mean high school and into college. (Only thirteen years ago, but it really does feel like another life.) But not much past that. Photography hung on the longest. Unfortunately, I don't think my camera works anymore- whenever I put a roll of film into it, it either winds it to the end immediately, or does so as soon as I snap the first picture. I loved that camera.

Painting was the other medium I was somewhat good at. I haven't painted since I took an intro to painting class in college- which I dropped mid-semester for a number of reasons, including the fact that I learned that I absolutely loathe working with oil paint. Let me tell you how much I hated it. Even in a very well-ventilated studio, it smelled like death. And then there was the need to use things like turpentine to get it off my skin- I really didn't like that. It kinda scared me when my plastic palette knife dissolved.

But please, give me acrylics any day and watch me do a little dance. I loved painting with acrylics, which was what I used in high school (mostly, when I wasn't doing water color or the rare thing with temperas which I wasn't a big fan of either, but I would take over oils any day and twice on Sunday.

I've been missing painting for a long time. Every now and then, I go to an art store and look at paint, brushes and canvas. I'm...I dunno, a serious nerd or something about color, I like just looking at all of the different colors of paint in the tubes. I have a favorite white paint- I did anyway, and I have no reason to think that it's changed. Titanium white, thanks. In high school, if you asked me my favorite color, I was very likely to answer "dioxazine purple" or "phthalocyanine green" (it kinda switched between the two) because those were the exact shades that were my favorite color at the time. Hell, I knew the names of many paint colors off the top of my head better than my art teachers, and was really picky. (Me: "Hey, Mr. Hoff, are there any more tubes of alizarin crimson in the supply closet? I just emptied this one." Mr Hoff: "Umm what crimson? Here, take this." Me: "That's napthol crimson. Any more alizarin?" Mr Hoff (looking at me like I've lost my mind): "What is wrong with you? I know this is art, but really, what is wrong with you?" Yes, that conversation actually took place sometime in my junior year.)

I do this, and I want to paint again. I get so ridiculously sad. The last couple of times I've done this, I've been close to crying. Yeah, it's kinda sad.

but I have decided once and for all that I am getting some paints. I found a set the other day that I want. Liquitex Basics 36 tube set, It was about $33 at the one art store near me. Then I came home and started poking around online. Yay for google shopping- I found the same set on Amazon for $27...and then I found the Liquitex Basics 48-color set for the same price on yet another website today. Needless to say, I am ordering it. Will probably start by picking up a sketchbook of canvas paper to begin with, and maybe some small canvas panels (which are very inexpensive, thankfully.) and will need some brushes.

I figure for a while, I'll probably just play around with mixing up bits of colors and seeing what I get. That used to be my favorite thing. I could get sidetracked for an entire class just mixing up new colors and trying them out on scraps of paper.

And that was before I even discovered interference paints.

I used to have sheets and sheets of paper with blobs and splotches of colors I tried out, mixed with other colors, thinned with water (acrylics make great water colors too!), dusted with salt and then scraped it off when the paint dried, I used to write down the combination of paints that I used to create the colors, and my best guess on the ratios so I could recreate them...why are you looking at me funny?

Ummm....anyway. Yeah. I wouldn't be surprised if I were to use up an entire paint set just doing that again.

At the art store yesterday, I also found this paper that looked like it was made from green leaves and felt like fine cotton. It made me think so much of Dionysus, I'm trying to come up with something I could do to have a reason to buy a sheet of the stuff. I kept wanting to go back to the shelf and pet the paper, it really felt nice. Um...yeah. Stop looking at me like that.

In other news, as I was leaving the apartment building today to run to 7-11, someone moving in next door had just put boxes and boxes of stuff out with a "free" sign on the sidewalk that they wanted to get rid of. I was one of the first people there, and really cleaned up. I snagged us an XBox with three controllers, a playstation with a controller, memory card, and a really nice carrying bag, a camcoder in a case with a tripod, a sewing machine, a Battleship game, an Italian language video course, a small lunch-sized cooler, a printer and a couple of candle holders, including one that looks like some sort of pewter-ish metal with grapevines all over it (Gavin and I have been discussing what to do for anthesteria). After that, we went down to the Harbor and were discussing, amongst other things, our former roommate, Dominic who we haven't heard from in a while. As we were going to check out printer cartridges at Best Buy, who did we run into? He's supposed to send me some information on census jobs- he just took the test for them and I guess was told they're still hiring. So...let's hope that the good things today continue to roll on.

I also finally ordered a copy of Fritz Graf's Apollo, so that should be here soon, woohoo!

Right at the moment, I'm feeling pretty good about things. The weather has been pretty good- it was amazing yesterday. Not quite as warm today but still nice enough that I went out wearing only a hooded shirt over my clothing. It's supposed to be in the 40's and 50's for at least the next ten days, according to the weather service.

Oh, and my mom finally called and has picked a date to try to come down to visit- the day before Easter. This is assuming that my sister doesn't go into labor (Oh yeah, don't think I ever mentioned, my sister's having another kid.)

Speaking of kids- I just recently finished my first-ever baby blanket, for Gavin's sister. I crocheted it from granny squares. It kinda looks like a quilt- will have to take pictures. And am now making one for my sister. But I'm knitting it.

I think that's it for now, this post is long enough, don'tchathink?
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I've been debating over whether I want to actually discuss this on LJ or not for a while now, largely because I really had no reason to just up and say "Hey guys guess what!" as just another wacky thing in my life lately, but as I sit here and think about it and how much it's actually contributed to a lot of the more interesting ideas I've had lately, I think it stands to be mentioned, at least as a lead-in to some of the things I want to try to write out in the not too distant future. Unfortunately some of those ideas are just so...well, ridiculously difficult to put into words that *I* find understandable, let alone communicative to others. but I will try.

Anyway...first off, I've mentioned this one once or twice on LJ before, usually just a random musing of why the hell do I feel like this...but anyway...so occasionally I get these inexplicable, completely irrational and unfounded feelings of being completely alone and abandoned in the world, like no one cares about me and no one ever will. Sometimes it lasts just a few minutes and goes away, sometimes goes on for hours, and then I'll go to sleep for the night or take a nap or something and wake up and feel just fine again. (Please I know the knee-jerk reaction, at least some of you that I've known for a while are thinking "Oh, but I'm here, I'm your friend, I care about you." and may even be reaching for the comment link as you read this. Please understand that I *know* this, and my feeling this way has nothing to do with you or anything you may or may not have done and is not a reflection of how good a friend you are.

I don't generally talk about it much for two reasons: 1. In the past when I've tried to talk about it in medias res, its only ever tended to make me feel worse. 2. I've been experiencing it for so long that I'm so used to it that I can get through it without anyone ever realizing that there's something wrong and no matter how bad I feel, I always know rationally that it's going to pass. (If this is now making you wonder if this was what was the problem if you've ever caught me in one of my rare bad moods, all I can say is that it's possible but not likely. When I'm in a bad mood, it's generally the result of something external.)

Over time, a few people have noted that this is wholly unsurprising given my past. it's interesting to note, however, that I remember this happening when I was three or four...which was three to four years before things went to hell. I have a pretty damned good memory of my life, even that far back and I can think of nothing that should have ever made me feel that way.

The second thing...I can think of precisely two people I've talked to at all about this, possibly a third. This I have first memory of mentioning it to my grandmother at some point in I think third grade, but it had been happening for a while before that- and what I had said at the time was that I frequently feel like my life isn't actually happening to me, but that I'm reading it as a story in a book. Her response was to ask me if my mom was treating me so horribly that I wished it was a story...now this WAS after the point where my grandparents had convinced me that my mother didn't love me, and as a result I wanted to have nothing to do with her though due to court orders and all that stuff, I had no choice...but even looking at that, I knew that my mother wasn't as horrible as my grandmother was implying so I just dropped it and never mentioned it again until some years later when I said something similar to my mom, who just looked at me and said "You're weird." by this point, I was long used to it and it wasn't having an adverse effect on my life so I just let it go.

Anyway...this is one of those things that have been a continuous occurrence in my life. I'm not always sure that I'm actually the one living my life, I sometimes feel like I'm inside someone else's head as they're going about their life. There's no definite boundary between when this feeling stops and starts- sometimes I wake up feeling like that. Other times I just suddenly realize that I feel like that and have to wonder if it just started and that's why I realized it, or if it's been going on for a few minutes or hours or what.

Its a bizarre feeling. it comes with a certain feeling of being insular as well...I guess the feeling that I'm actually inside someone else's head, therefore no one realizes that I'm there creates a sort of transparent buffer between me and whatever's around me.

Sometimes I can consciously snap this feeling off. A lot of the time I can't. Again, I always know rationally that yes, it's me, no there's no one else there, yes, this is my life. but occasionally I have to ask myself those little questions- how do I know? I just do. Yeah but how do I know? Prove it. I can't prove it. Just have to wait til the feeling goes away. It always does. Sometimes takes a few hours, less frequently up to a few days, but it goes away.

I found out a few months ago that there's a word for all this- it's called depersonalization. Apparently it's a fairly common thing that most adults experience at some point in their life, usually as a short-term reaction to some sort of trauma or extreme stress...not so much an ongoing thing that starts in childhood and seems to occur without some sort of provocation. What I've been told is that it falls into the much milder end of the same spectrum as dissociative identity disorder.

Also, at times, I'll be dreaming and either be unsure if I've had the same dream before or if I'm replaying something that really happened in a dream...or vice versa while awake...I'll be unsure if something's happened before, or if what's going on is similar to a dream that I had.

And the last thing...I know that I've mentioned this to a few folks at times, usually in conversations that meander into "where is my life going..." territory...and that would be the feeling that I'm something huge is about to happen (not a feeling of doom sort of thing, just something extremely huge and significant of some sort) or that I'm at a constant crossroad, or just about to jump off of some proverbial cliff into the great unknown. Yeah, apparently there's a word for this, I just happened upon it last night by accidents, but presque vu...it's related to deja vu. (Perfectly illustrated in this quote from Catch 22: And there were other moments when he almost saw absolute truth in brilliant flashes of clarity that almost came to him.)

In case it's on anyone's mind to suggest in response to reading this...I have just started seeing a therapist, it's something I went back and forth on for months, after being involved in a discussion back in June that hit just a little too close to some of the things that have gone on in my mind...as a direct result of said conversation, I talked back and forth with this individual on and off for several months before I finally went ahead and made an appointment.

y ya esta.

How has all this contributed to recent ideas I've had? Well...I'm stiil working on verbalizing that coherently. But I'll post more about that when I make some sense...
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I never learned to ride a bike. When I lived with my grandparents, they never got me one(My mom did get me one before that, which I had at my grandparents' house, but they refused to take off the training wheels and then I was eventually too tall for it and they put it in a garage sale.) and eventually my mom got me one, at the time she didn't live anywhere that I could ever really ride the thing and then once we all moved back in with her my sister and brothers took it and wrapped it around a tree or something. Oh, and my stepsister (I used to have one years ago, but my father eventually left my then-stepmother) decided to try and force me to learn one summer when I was visiting them, and I gave up when she pushed the bike- with me on it- out into the street and I almost got hit by a car.

So that's the sad, sad, tragic tale of how Fuego never learned to ride a bike.

Sometimes I think it would be convenient to have one. For serious. But like, yeah...sorry...I think it would be way too embarrassing to try to learn now. I mean, I can see me out there in the lot behind the house, kicking along with one foot and....no. Just, no.

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