I WARNED You
Still bogged down. Since there have been no votes either way, I’ve decided that what everyone REALLY wants is to see pictures of my cats. MWAHAHAHAHAHA!
Ok, actually mostly these aren’t pictures just of our cats. A couple years ago we had just one cat, Chyna (the orange one) and lived in a neighborhood with hoards of stray cats. One of them, a grey-brown tabby took over the territory behind the apartment and sort of adopted us. We decided to adopt her perminantly at about the same time we realized she was pregnant.
Tricky was such a tiny cat, under a year herself, and malnourished. All the kittens ended up much bigger, and you can see from her big feet that she probably should have been bigger than she is.
I guess it’s obvious that kittens are tiny, but it’s pretty amazing to see first hand. They pretty much looked like lumps when they came out to the point that it was hard to tell at first how many there were. It was actually a couple days before we were able to verify that there were 6, instead of the 5 the vet had guessed.
Two black kittens, two tabbys like Tricky, a grey and white, and a spotted tabby with white markings.
Kittens defy gravity.
Chyna was a little nervous about all the weird smells coming from the kitten room. (Actually, I think she just likes to hide.)
As the kittens got bigger I started to modify their box, giving them things to play with and on and scratch. It wasn’t long before they were all able to climb out of the box.
They may look cute, but trust me, they’re little monsters. Cute monsters.
They did seem to enjoy some of the constructions I made for them. It gave me good ideas for when we have room to make perminant kitty structures.
They pretty much destroyed everything they touched. Including the skin on my back.
Even though they got out of the box within a couple weeks, it wasn’t a total loss since they apprently liked hiding behind it.
The more enthusiastic the kittens got, the more nervous Chyna got.
You can’t really blame her. They’re fearless little furballs.
All the kittens had distinct personalities. The spotted tabby, the only girl of the bunch, was very social and liked sitting on my shoulder. I miss her. Fortunately we were able to place all the kittens. The two black cats went with a friend from school, I think they’re named Fred (or Frank?) and George. One of the tabbys, which had extra toes, was adopted by my friend Amy and named Zoe (it’s a boy though), the other Tabby went to our friend Justin — named Loki (it fits) the grey and white kitten went to our friends John and Holly and is named Baxter, and the spotted tabby, Lucy, went to a waitress/owner of our favorite Lebonese place. Sadly, she’s the one I never see. 
Tricky was pretty exhausted. I think she was a bit worried as the kittens disappeared one by one (Baxter being the last one left, got cleaned six times as much as usual), but once they were all gone she didn’t seem bothered. She’s plump and healthy now, and extremely happy to be an indoor kitty. A couple of the photos have larger versions if you click on them.
Eugene Saturday Market
Day 4 of thesis cramming. Here are some photos from the Eugene Saturday Market, taken on the same trip home as the Bend photos.
The best part of the Saturday Market is the colors. Eugene is largely made up of retired hippies, so the Saturday Market is always a trip. One of the scenes in my book takes place here. I’m glad I got such a good variety of photos.
This photo technically didn’t turn out all that well. Too washed out with light, and it can’t be edited out (at least not by me) without looking very strange. I had to include it though, because I love both the hair and the depth of the composition, with a central figure so close in the foreground.
I was really tempted to buy a hula hoop, mainly because everyone seemed to be having a whole lot of fun with them. There’s an open area where people were sitting, dancing, and, yeah. Hooping.
I like how the spoons provide a screen.
I wish there weren’t crease marks on the blanket, but otherwise I’m pleased with this photo. I love that the woman on the left seems to be an extension of her creations.
Normally I try to blur out the faces of children in my photos, but this photo may be one of my all time favorites, mainly because of the little girl’s face. I feel like this is sort of ok since I actually have no idea who she is, but I realize that doesn’t actually make any kind of sense.
Again, love the hair, but also the hanging cranes just give the whole photo a really cool feel. Also, I’m a fan of the clever method of display.
The market has a main stage, but there were also random musicians roaming all over the place. I think it’s a shame that the guy on the right is wearing a T-shirt, the other guy fits the scene far better.
The tone of this woman’s skin mixes beautifully with her knitted dolls. I also really like the expression on her face and the way she’s looking off to the side.
I like the screen effect here again, but I mostly just think this is a great collection of funky, very Eugene, jewelry.
Such cool ornaments. Like the blue squid on the left especially.
Click on the photos for a larger version. More tomorrow.
Photos from Bend
Still thesis-ing (well it’s a word NOW) so here are more photos. Hope you enjoy.
A couple months before the wedding, I went home for a week to visit my parents in Oregon. Dad and I went on a few hikes, especially in Bend.
I was mainly home to see my parents, but I also wanted to get some good shots of the landscape of Bend since a couple unwritten books in my series will be taking place there. The first book, the one I’m agonizing over right now in fact, takes place in Eugene, so I needed to get some photos of that as well, but since I lived there for the stretch of childhood within the reach of memory, Eugene is less essential.
This photo probably won’t be all that useful for my book, but I think it’s one o the more print ready photos I have. For a while I was toying with the idea of selling photography, but I probably won’t get around to pursuing that particular avenue any time soon.
Another of my favorites. This really ought to be a panoramic shot, but I think it’s lovely as is.
Another cool view.
I like getting trees from strange angles. I especially like in this one how the blue of the sky seems to gather at the edges. It’s almost amoeba-ic (also suddenly a word)
Technically this isn’t in bend, it’s from Sahalie Falls a scenic shot on the way home.
The sky here is so blue that it doesn’t look real, but I didn’t even do any color enhancing. I was afraid to.
Actually, I guess none of the photos from around the falls looked quite real. The mist was part of it, but mainly it was just the scale. Or something. Pretty views anyway.
Click on the photos for a bigger version. More photos tomorrow. Should get back to normal posts by Monday, I hope.
Pretty Pictures
Still have my head stuffed in the middle of a manuscript, plus a few other necessary errands today, so, as I explained yesterday, photos! Since nobody voted in comments I will now bore you with pictures of my cats.
Ok, I’m kidding, here are some Scotland photos from a couple trips I took with Matt. I’m pretty sure they’re all pictures I took, but it’s hard to be sure since they all got kind of muddled and it’s been a while. These pictures are from my older, Sony camera.
This is Edinburgh. Some people have told me that they like Glasgow better because Edinburgh is so touristy, but I don’t agree. I think it’s a beautiful city.
I can’t imagine living in an area where buildings are this dense, but my artistic sense wishes all cities looked like this.
Edinburgh Castle from the bottom of the hill it’s built into.
There’s a graveyard near the bottom of Edinburgh Castle. I just though it was beautiful and serene looking, and exactly what a graveyard ought to look like, so I took a picture. I think I meant this graveyard photo to be for reference, but I think it’s rather nice to look at on its own.
This ought to have been ugly, but there’s something beautiful (I thought) about the mixture of the old building, the vibrant nature, and the grid of reconstruction.
Up top at Edinburgh Castle with a funny angle. These photos make me want to draw funky buildings. Maybe when I have a bit more time.
Cannon view is obviously necessary. I know these aren’t active, but I think it would give me the shivers to know there was a cannon aimed at me anyhow.
A train station somewhere in Scotland, I don’t remember where. I just thought it was a cool industrial image. This is from my first visit to Scotland, I think the previous ones are all from the more recent visit.
Also from the first visit, this is my favorite photo from Scotland. Unfortunately it was pretty low-res because I forgot to reset my camera. We got to go on a balloon ride, and that’s actually the shadow from my balloon.
Click on an image for a larger version. Tomorrow more photos of whatever strikes me as a good idea.
Crunch Time
I have, thanks to my own promises, until the end of the week to finish editing my novel. It’s doable, but I won’t have time for much else. Also, I might go crazy.
Since I don’t want to abandon my blog all week, this week I’ll be bringing you some of my favorite photos. Most of them are from the new digital camera I got this summer. For today, let’s look at some photos I took at a Renn Faire in August, which is where I went for my bachelorette party. Not sure it really counted as a bachelorette party since Matt, and several other guys were there, but whatever, I had fun.
The fun colors in this picture make me happy. Mostly I think that wearing faerie wings is a bit silly (though these faerie wings are pretty awesome), but as decorative items, I’m a big fan. Also impressed by the creative way they’re displayed in a spiderweb-net.
Not sure exactly why I love this one. It might be the sense of motion that I know is there, even if it’s not evident in the photo. This big green sea dragon thing is a kiddie ride at the faire. I’m also pleased at the expression on the man’s face.
Technically I think she’s selling aromatherapy oils, but this booth feels so much like an apothecary that I feel Shakespeare must be hanging out somewhere nearby.
I LOVE this picture. It’s got an exotic market feel, heightened by the fact that the girl is off center and, more importantly, didn’t look at me until after I snapped the photo.
This one, a photo of everyone leaving the park at the end of the day, seems to me to have a surreal feeling to it. I think it’s the combination of color, lighting, and dust.
Lastly, this image technically doesn’t have anything to do with Renaissance, it’s from one of the mini-gardens sprinkled throughout the faire. I like the look of the spiderwebs (even though I hate spiders) and rock, so I included it.
You can click on any of the images for a larger version. There are a ton more Renn Faire photos, but these are my favorites. I’ll have photos of something or other tomorrow. This is better than photos of my cats, right? Because I could just post photos of my cats until the novel is finished. They’re very cute? Leave your vote in comments…Scotland, or photos of my cats.
I Am Yuppie
I like to make fun of yuppies, but occasionally I have to admit to a great big closet yuppie chattering (loudly, on the iphone) inside me. Sometimes this happens when republicans are making fun of liberals and I think, what’s wrong with lattes? Mostly it happens when I’m grocery shopping.
I remember a few years ago waiting in the check-out line behind a woman a few years older than me. Her toddler, no older than two, was reaching for one of the impulse items. Quite seriously the woman said, “That’s biscotti. BIS-COTT-EY. Can you say biscotti?” It made me giggle at the time, but I guess I can’t make too much fun when I’m the one choosing to shop at a store where there’s biscotti up front instead of Butterfingers.
Today I had another reminder when we stopped to look at a plastic wrapped package of veal brains. You know your grocery store is catering to yuppies when they sell veal brains.
Matt and I made fun of Heinens for a while until we got to the check-out line. Then we got into a discussion with the woman working the register about the benefits of bison meat versus ostrich meat.
I looked at the items in our cart. Organic broccoli, organic garlic, organic eggs, organic milk, organic whole wheat pasta. Ostrich fillets and pesto turkey sausage. I realized, we belong here. Like it or not, we really are yuppies.
I shouldn’t be ashamed of trying to eat healthy, of trying to keep chemicals out of my body. I’m not really. I am occasionally embarrassed though. And why?
I know that Obama’s presidency is supposed to shoo in a new era of cooperation and forgiveness, but every so often I find myself overcome with a wave of anger at the right wing media machine.
I know republicans claim that there’s a massive liberal media conspiracy. As an openly leftist liberal myself, I can’t claim objectivity, so even though I think it’s absurd to call the reporters on NPR biased, I’ll admit there might be some liberal bias in some media channels, so long as conservatives will admit the same on their side. And to me there is a huge difference between the supposed liberal bias and the blatent, Fox News b.s.
The “liberal meda” might have spent the last eight years attacking the bush administration (and no, obviously that was a bias and not the result of, I dunno, incompetence) but Fox News has spent the last eight years attacking ME.
How the HELL did they manage to turn energry conservation into something bad, into a sign of elitism? Since when is buying organic a bad thing? How dare they imply that anyone who is health conscious, or environmentally conscious, or socially conscious is a flighty, empty headed LIBERAL, with liberal suddenly carrying approximately all the positive qualities of a pinko-commie-Marxist in the 50s?
It’s not only that, not only the anti-liberal message we’ve been force fed for years. I am furious every time I think of Sarah Palin talking about how the “real America” is in small towns. The clear implication is that if you aren’t a Palin “type,” not a corn farmer, or a fake plummer or a… whatever else it is they do in small towns, you’re not a real American.
So fine. I like fruufy coffee drinks and I buy organic. I threatened to move to Canada when Bush got re-elected. I threatened again if Obama didn’t win, and I kind of meant it. I am a liberal and I can’t stand Sarah Palin. I may well be a yuppie. In spite of all that, I would like to make one thing perfectly clear.
I do not eat veal brains.
*Photos from Flickr users Jhritz and Kerryank. And me.
Pleasure Centers
Most people agree that the brain is a wonderful thing. This is mainly becuase it’s workings are totally beyond our understanding, which is why it can be so mystifying when wires get crossed.
I’m on a diet, sort of. I’m currently about five pounds overweight, and I would like to not be overweight, but my diligence varies. If you’ve ever been on a diet, you probably know that the second you decide to start cutting back, the worst possible foods start to sound wonderful.
What I haden’t considered is which part of the brain this is triggering. I’m still not sure. I do know though, that there must be a special pleasure center in there somewhere that’s linked with eating something you shouldn’t. A place for guilty pleasures.
I can’t prove that it’s a different part of the brain, and I never noticed that the endorphine rush I get from eating a handful of chocolate chips when I’m supposed to be counting calories is any different than say, the kind I get from winning a match, or getting a hug. I do think these feelings are different and distinct, I just never noticed or thought about it.
Instead, I recently noticed that the kind of pleasure I experience from eating something I shouldn’t is not unique.
I am forgetful. It is not unusual for me to go into a room to get something, forget what it was, turn around, remember, and repeat the whole process several times. I did this the other day, and each time I remembered that I meant to get… something. I forgot what, but the type of pleasure in my brain was telling me that I’d promised myself a forbidden snack. I kept getting distracted, then remembering I had a treat coming up, and trying to remember what it was, and getting distracted again.
Finally I remembered what the treat was. Email.
Since I bought my iphone, I’ve become more and more guilty of email watching. Pre-iphone it was normal for me to check my email several times an hour, not necessarily expecting anything, just to be sure. I know it’s possible to set up email alerts on your computer, but I’ve never bothered. The iphone does it automatically though. As soon as I get an email, I know it. Sometimes there’s a network lag, and I’ll get two or three emails at once. It’s exciting.
The other day, when I thought I’d promised myself chocolate, I was really remembering that I had two new emails to check. For some reason, the anticipation of email was identical to the excitement of candy.
This seems strange to me. I should mention that once I realized the mistake, I was NOT disappointed, checking my email felt every bit as satisfying as the non-existent snack. I just can’t imagine why.
The brain, and I do not say only the human brain, is strange. I don’t know if this example is because I’m miswired somewhere, or whether my brain has classified these two things together for a reason. Either way, it makes me wonder whether it’s possible to fool the brain more often. If I can come up with more activities like checking email that replace covert snacking? Surely dieting would be loads easier.
Photos from Flickr users Gaetan Lee and Jessicafm.
Illustration Friday: Climbing
I love it when, on the days I don’t have time to do something new, I have a drawing I’ve not yet posted that perfectly fits the week’s Illustration Friday topic.
I came up with this back when I wanted to submit work to White Wolf. I never got around to finishing three images to send in, but this was my favorite of the ones I started. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll get around to making two more. This one was intended to be a submission for the Werewolf campaign. For any who care, this is ink with a watercolor wash. Comments and critiques welcome.
Day of Drawing
Haven’t had any time to come up with any deep topics to share today, I’ve been working on a project for someone. I thought maybe people might like to take a look at my process, though I don’t think it’s necessarily much different from the process most artists use.
One possible difference is my reliance on hard pencils. Most people sketch with a soft pencil becuase it’s easy to change and intended for dark, loose lines. I use a hard pencil from habit, when I’m being more diligent I use a softer pencil like I’m “supposed to” and I recognize that it actually does work better, but I just like the paler line.
Before I ink I like to put in as much detail with pencil as I can, even though I’m often disappointed at having to get rid of all the graphite lines. I love the look of the graphite lines along with the ink, but leaving the pencil is usually not an option because by the time I get there I’ve managed to smudge and overwork all the pencil.
I guess one option would be to add in the “sketch” lines after it’s been inked and erased, but that seems a little dishonest. Still, I guess art is all about visual tricks.
One of the weirder things about drawing is you end up with all these bizarre photos of yourself in strange poses. I occasionally use Poser, a software program, to give me anatomical dimensions, but sometimes a photo just works better, and often I’m the only model around. At least my current camera makes taking goofy self portraits easier.
I may post the finished drawing here later, I haven’t yet decided. I’d like to share, but this one might be sort of private.
Even if I don’t, there will be more drawings here soon. Once I finish re-writes on my novel, I’ll be spending much more time on sketching and finished artwork for my portfolio. I told my current advisor that I’d have those done by the end of January. When I actually think about that it sounds a little bit INSANE, which is why I try not to think about it. Actually I need to get quite a few things done by the end of January, and I’m really trying not to notice that it’s already the 22nd. Deadlines are necessary but painful. Sometimes I envy my cat.
Keeping It
My mother is the oldest of three girls and the only one that took her husband’s last name when she married. When I thought about getting married, I took it for granted that I would change my name, and felt sad about it. I’m not sure when it occurred to me that I didn’t have to.
See, I really like my name. I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with the name Meagan Neely, but that’s not me. I’m Meagan Bayard Call. That’s who I’ve been for 27 years. Meagan Bayard Call is the creepy girl with a sword. She’s slightly odd, she draws a lot. She has big ideas, and sometimes she even manages to implement one of them. She’s not perfect, but after years of depression, struggle, loneliness, desperation, I’ve finally discovered that I actually rather like her. Marriage involves sacrifice, but this person, this self I’ve made myself into, that shouldn’t be one of them.
I’ve heard the arguments. By marrying, we’re creating a new life, the partnership between husband and wife, and so a new name represents the new life. That’s crap. The wife must change to a new person but the husband is the same as always? No. I AM Meagan Bayard Call. That is who my husband married. Part of me feels like keeping my name is a rejection of Matt, and that isn’t fair. It’s the same ugly little voice that had to be slammed into submission when I wanted a blue dress instead of a white one. Different is not the same as wrong.
There are practical reasons that made me want to change my name. Some day, probably sooner rather than later, we’ll have children. I don’t expect to give my children my name. I don’t wish to force a hyphen on them either. Which means when we have children we will be the Neely family, and there will be I, conspicuously Call.
Then there’s the symbolism. As much as I want to stand on my feminist high horse (if you are on a high horse, always sit rather than stand so you will be closer to the ground when it flings you off its back) I do like the idea of having part of Matt’s name be part of my name. Of taking his name.
And then I thought, you mean I have to change my signature, too?
I kept my name.
But I took his too. Or I will. When I get around to the legalities, I will be Meagan Bayard-Neely Call. As far as I am concerned, I already am.
Life is full of compromise, or at least, successful lives are. I wanted two names. Or I wanted my name with all the symbolic connection of his name. My new name, which is also my old name, does not perfectly satisfy my wants, but it meets my needs. It’s the best I can do, and that is enough.
