Monthly Archives: August 2015

In Which I Relearn the Love of Alliterative Language

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If I seem a little prickly to you, maybe you shouldn't touch me.

If I seem a little prickly to you, maybe you shouldn’t touch me.

It eludes me why I never thought to post the mandalas on Mondays. Not only does #MandalaMonday make a more pleasing hashtag, it gives me an extra day to think about comics without being rushed when I’ve used the entire weekend up having fun and not thinking about the act of creation.

This one looks like a sea anemone to me, something that lives on a coral reef.

My trip to New Mexico was wonderful and cleansing, but the 7+ hour drive each way, mostly through the mountains, was pretty taxing on my body. I drank one of those dreadful 5-Hour Energies, which kept my mind so relentlessly focused on piloting a vehicle that 7 hours after we arrived my brain remained on alert to the sensation of hurtling through space. Driving that long wasn’t easy on the rest of me either, and I got very little sleep last night.

There should be a comic tomorrow, a silly one, and then maybe one of those brutal personal comics about the most painful things that have ever happened to me, which seem to be the ones that most interest readers.

Super Fun!

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Other super fun activities in which you could participate over spring break might include lobbying your local legislature to enact environmental legislation and turning your stupid baseball cap around.

Other super fun activities in which you could participate over spring break might include lobbying your local legislature to enact environmental legislation and turning your stupid baseball cap around.

The Comprehensive Environmental Response, Compensation, and Liability Act of 1980 is a federal law that provides for the cleanup of some of the most contaminated sites in the United States. It is most commonly referred to as the “Superfund,” which is actually the money set aside to help the EPA and other agencies complete this task, although sometimes the parties responsible for the pollution are also required to pay. There are hundreds of these sites across the country. Most likely, one of them sits pretty close to your backyard. For example, I was surprised to learn that the Tucson International Airport is on the list.

Most of these sites don’t look like ugly pits of mine runoff. Many of them have been allowed to grow over with wildflowers and support abundant wildlife. However, that doesn’t change the fact that the ground is full of mercury, or mustard gas, or some terrible byproduct of industry that will cause your entire family to die of cancer.

There are approximate 1300 sites on the list, with over 100 more whose addition has been proposed. These are only the ones we know about. Undoubtedly, there are many places that would qualify for the list but lack the activists necessary to get that attention.

Fewer than 400 Superfund sites have been successfully decontaminated in the last 35 years.

Check out this handy list to find your nearest pile of toxic waste.

Z Lazy B

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Please do not argue with me concerning the definition of the phrase

Please do not argue with me concerning the definition of the phrase “pure country.”

If I were a better artist, I would be uploading a funny comic right now.

The Rabbit and I, after a long journey that involved treacherous mountain passes, unpaved country lanes, and, no joke, an actual living, breathing BLACK BEAR standing in the middle of the freaking road, made it to the very isolated Z Lazy B Ranch, where there is no cell phone service and no accessible wifi. Since I rely heavily on existing images when I draw, and since I sometimes needs to do more research to make a joke work, even though I had an idea for a comic, I didn’t have the materials available to actually create that comic.

Currently, I’m sitting in the Octavia Fellin Public Library in Gallup, New Mexico, enjoying the free wifi. I have done the research necessary to draw the comic, as well as the research necessary to write the story I’m working on. (Sample question: what movie would my character’s mother be most likely to rent from Blockbuster in June of 1992 for the purpose of bonding with her child? Answer: Edward Scissorhands. Queries about what resources were available to LGBT students at Columbia University in autumn of 1992 will have to wait until I have more time.)

Anyway, the above image really communicates the general sense of where we are. We are staying in a cabin identical to the one in the picture (ours is next door). These horses come by every evening, chomping clover, and don’t seem to mind us petting them. The dog comes over every day and just hangs out. We took a long, rambling walk on Tuesday and she stayed near me the whole way. Even when she went after a jackrabbit, she came back to me. I imagine it must be incredibly boring for her when it’s not hunting season. Even though the Rabbit told me that labs don’t point, I swear this one kept pointing. I kept telling her I didn’t do that kind of shooting.

I only wrote 2100 words, which is not really that impressive, but, after we get some supplies for the Rabbit, I hope to write at least 3000 tonight, and maybe draw a comic. It’s possible that we’ll have enough wifi at some point for me to post it for Friday.

A Jagged Mandala

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I feel your pain

I feel your pain

I’m still at camp with the Rabbit; ideally, I would have drawn a new comic Sunday night to update today, but Sunday was consumed with a visit to the Mission, and cooking a huge dinner for all the people who wanted to see the Rabbit while she was in town.

There’s no wifi at this camp; we’ll have to drive into town just to get a cell signal, so I don’t know whether I’ll be able to post anything for Thursday and Friday. Most likely, yes, but who know what it will be like out in the woods? Maybe my electronics will be eaten by a bear. Stranger things have happened.

There’s some weird organic stuff going on in this mandala. It reminds me of the bad period mandala a little bit. It’s got a sort of meatiness to it, along with the jagged edges.

Back in Business!

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So much room for activities.

So much room for activities.

The Fox acquired some kind of book on extreme cleaning, which advises readers to throw away any material possessions that do not inspire joy, something along those lines. Amongst my many possessions are numerous items that most likely do not inspire joy in me, but letting go of them can be complicated as well. For example, I have a drawer in my office that contains nothing but letters people wrote to me in high school and college. I have another draw that houses every notebook I used in school during that same time period. Do these things inspire joy in me? Do I really need to save them?

Probably not. But maybe. What if I want them later? And even if I did toss them, first I would have to go through every single one of them to ascertain their particular contents and meaning.

It’s easier to keep them in drawers.

This is where I work now.

This is where I work now.

After many days of ignoring the problem, I finally got it together to knock my work space back into some semblance of order. It’s not perfect–there are still many things (besides the old letter and notebooks that need to be sorted–but at least it feels like an office again, and not like a precursor to an episode of Hoarders.

This layout never occurred to me in the past because I wouldn’t have my back to the window. Originally, I was going to try turning the desk the other way and pushing it up to the window, but now that I have nice curtails I can pretend the window is a wall, if need be. Plus from this vantage point, i can fully experience the joy of living in a library.

While I was putting some things on the high shelf and noted that, by the Fox’s book’s measure, I could easily part with probably 60 or 75% of my books. Individually, I no longer have an emotional connection to many of them. However, the concept of having a library does bring me joy. As long as the books are organized, they’re not any kind of burden.

Cozy reading corner.

Cozy reading corner.

By the time this is published, I’ll be at camp with the Rabbit, who is much more vested in keeping a clean house than I am. However, we can both agree that it will be lovely to come home and have this space so beautifully cleaned and laid out. There’s an excellent possibility that the rest of the house will be in worse condition than when I left, but my small oasis of creative peace should theoretically remain.

Dictionary Definition

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You lack both the language skills as well as the perceptive capacity.

You lack both the language skills as well as the perceptive capacity.

I won this particular copy of Webster’s 9th New Collegiate Dictionary in the 8th grade, when I won the all-school spelling bee on the word “forfeit.” It’s been with me a long time, and the cover is askew from years of abuse. Now, of course, I usually use the Internet, or sometimes the lovely but cumbersome “Compact” Oxford English Dictionary, which was a gift from the Fox. It’s the one that has 9 pages printed in minuscule text on each oversized page, and come with a fun magnifying hemisphere.

As for defining other people: the dictionary is just doing its job, after all, when it offers definitions. I’m not sure what’s up with people who think they can define total strangers who don’t want and haven’t asked for their opinion. There are the critics who insist on telling other people what their gender or sexuality *really* is, and the ones who explain the life experience of people from different economic classes, and even the ones who say, “Well, I can easily do XYZ, therefore everyone should easily do XYZ and if they don’t they’re lazy and deserve to fail.”

The solution, of course, is to shut up and listen. It’s not easy. When you have your own, perfectly valid perspective, you don’t necessarily see the need to hear someone else’s point of view. Personally, I think that empathy is one of the things that separates us from wild creatures. If you lack the ability to put yourself into another person’s shoes, the DSM would probably define you as having antisocial personality disorder, more popularly known as being a psychopath., If you have the ability but choose not to exercise it, I’d love to know how you define yourself. Also, how you live with yourself.

Unfortunately for me, I seem to have come across a great many of these people online lately.

A Green, Leafy Mandala

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So refreshing...

So refreshing…

Chronic pain is the absolute worst.

I couldn’t get in to see the only massage therapist I even trust to work on me anymore, because she’s so good she’s usually booked 3 weeks in advance, so I went to community acupuncture, which is something I do about once every other year. The Man has had great success with it for his neurological headaches, which no other treatment can even touch, but somehow it’s only very moderately useful for me. Sometimes it causes extreme, electrical pain, which is not good in a community setting because it’s unfair to other people if I’m screaming in the quiet room. When the needles go in all right, I can only keep them in for about 15 minutes before my muscles start to spasm. The relief is usually temporary–in this case, it lasted about an hour.

Apparently he released something else inside of me because about halfway through the treatment I was overcome with a tidal wave of sorrow–something about the generic Chinese-sounding new age music they play struck me as inconsolably sad–and tears began to stream down my face.

That part actually was OK.

I managed to get about half the office cleaned today but made no progress on the comic even though it’s a really simple, one-panel comic that I should have been able to draw in an hour. I spent an hour last night trying to write one word (part of the image rather than the text) and erasing it over and over because it didn’t look right. I suspect the template is too small, as I’ve had trouble getting word bubbles to look legible in the one-panels in the past.

Chronic pain also makes me stupid. Like, when I talk the wrong words come out of my mouth. I was trying to tell the acupuncturist about my disc problem and I said, “It’s between L4 and L5,” when obviously, based on the location of the pain, I meant “C4 and C5.” He knew what I meant, but it was bizarre that my mouth referenced a completely different part of my body than what my brain wanted to discuss. Later, talking about arranging my office, I said “shelves” when I wanted “drawers.”

I am still beating The Man in Words with Friends, though.

He just remembered that we own a TENS unit, which is a thing we both tend to forget until we’re incapacitated. It provides a good measure of relief. Maybe I can get the comic started. I think it’s a good gag; I described it to The Man and he laughed, even though he was trying not to because he doesn’t like to admit that I’m pretty funny. He likes to be the funny one. But there can be room for 2 comedians in a marriage: George and Gracie, Lucy and Desi. Of course, the woman is usually the funnier one…

Lame blog post. I usually don’t talk about chronic pain but sometimes that’s all there is.

As for this mandala, it would make a pretty cool T-shirt.

Back to School Bulletin Board: (Another) Turtle!

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Yep, summer vacation is over.

Yep, summer vacation is over.

I know I just did a turtle, but this is a different turtle. The green sea turtle is, of course, a saltwater creature, whereas this turtle is a freshwater type. Originally, it was supposed to be a red eared slider, a turtle that is a popular pet and, as a result, one of the most invasive species on the planet, but they are native to this region and not considered a nuisance here. However, I didn’t bring a reference photo of a slider, so what we have here is a sort of generic painted turtle. Painted turtles also live in this region. The concept of this bulletin board is from a nearby park called Agua Caliente, where, until recently, natural springs kept everything very lush. I believe the springs have recently dried up, and I haven’t been back in a while, but I’m sure you can still see palm trees, aquatic turtles, and fish there, even if some of the lagoons are drained.

A fresh canvas!

A fresh canvas!

Last summer’s design had help up pretty well; it’s always a particular shame to take the old one down when it still looks good, but they can’t really be repurposed, due to the fact that they’re completely full of open staples and therefore sort of dangerous to touch. Plus, there’s no way to rehang them unless you go and bend all the staple closed, and I use hundreds of staples in a typical bulletin board.

I get my paper from the source!

I get my paper from the source!

I think yellow is a cheerful, but unusual background color. I probably would have gone for blue, to better represent water, but they hadn’t ordered any more butcher paper and no blue was to be had.

Incidentally, I don’t think I’ve ever shared a photo of this giant rack of paper, from which I get most of my colors. (Some of them–the construction paper colors–also come from the supply closet in the office, but the butcher paper is just kept out in the hallway on this rolling rack. It’s never in precisely the same spot, but it’s easy to find. It took me a while before I could effectively use the (blunt) cutting edge against which you have the pull the paper to effectively create a straight rip. It’s very joyful. Sometimes the kids can get paper, if their teachers tell them to, but for me I still feel a little frisson of power knowing that I can have any color paper I want. Bwoo ha ha ha.

Any color except blue, apparently.

Measure a lot of times, paste once.

Measure a lot of times, paste once.

I drew the shell first, then traced its edge to get the letters to fit on its back. Then I traced the edge again to get the letters to fit on top.

Very, very welcome.

Very, very welcome.

From there, I glue everything to the board. It’s sort of a rote operation. I add a few staples for insurance, and then I go back over the design and add a bunch of staples for accent (and security). Here you can see how the staples add texture and dimensionality to the turtle’s head.

That is a face only another turtle could love.

That is a face only another turtle could love.

When the turtle and the text were finished, there was still a lot of blank space and the whole thing looked kind of threadbare. First I added some palm trees, then some fish and some river rocks, and then a few more fish. I go back and glue anything that isn’t lying flat again.

I did this!

I did this!

Truthfully, I meant to start this yesterday, but instead I spent the entire day obsessing about how filthy my office was and totally forgot what I had planned to do. Needless to say, I have not yet started cleaning my office. However, I have created and uploaded some new art, so my conditions from yesterday were still fulfilled. This isn’t my favorite design–it feels like it needs a lot more background–but I only had one day to do it if there was going to be a new bulletin board when the kids came back and it’s 104 degrees out (this bulletin board is outside) and there’s a fire on the mountain, so I feel like the 5 hours I put in today was all I had for this project. It’s cute and it looks OK. So, success.

This Has to Affect Productivity

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In 6 days the Rabbit and I leave for our writing camp! This is a desperately needed escape, and while I had a smashing time at my sister’s wedding in Washington state, most of what was going on did not nourish me as an artist, except in the sense that the scenery was gorgeous and I took a lot of pictures. Most of what was going on involved me nourishing other people; there was no quiet space to listen to the voices.

Before I go, there’s something I’ve been meaning to do.

IMG_5467

My unnatural habitat

Here you can see that I haven’t cleaned up the myriad scraps from “Flying Sea Turtle Honeymoon Express Departs Vancouver on Schedule,” nor has the wrapping paper from the Boy’s birthday been put away.

It would probably be a really nice space if it wasn't so hazardous to navigate.

It would probably be a really nice space if it wasn’t so hazardous to navigate.

In addition to the mess on the floor, here you can see that my desk is also covered and pushed into a corner where it’s scarcely accessible. I haven’t used this desk in months. I just keep stacking important things there, and the cat keeps knocking them off. You can also see the desk chair facing the wall, and the milk crate with all my tax stuff, which has been sitting there since April, because it’s difficult to get behind the desk to put it away.

At least I tried to try.

At least I tried to try.

And here you can see my first feeble attempt to tackle this mess. (Note the presence of the mystical broom.) Basically, I took everything off that one chest of drawers and the corner under the shelves, sorted it into piles, and wandered off. It’s been that way for weeks.

So ultimately, my once-awesome office is a terrible place to work. It’s not conducive to anything except distraction. Every day I promise to fix this issue, and every day I spend so long avoiding it that it’s no longer even an option.

Looking over yesterday’s comic, I feel a little disappointment. I always fuss over the script, but by the time I start drawing it’s late at night and I’m tired and the art suffers. Hundreds of people read my TSA comic (my traffic is hugely up since the Man and I have started posting links on Reddit) but maybe it would have been thousands if the pictures weren’t so slapdash and unremarkable.

Maybe, if this office were an inviting place to work, I would better honor my commitment to myself and spend more time on the visual details.

So that, along with the fact that the man and I went swimming and watched a movie after dinner and then stayed up way past his bedtime playing Words with Friends, explains why I didn’t draw a comic or paint a picture today, and why tomorrow I better either have some new art, or else a photo of a perfectly clean and organized office. This time, I really could use Matt Paxton‘s help.

The TSA’s War against Reality

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It's funny because it's true. Actually, it's not funny because it's true.

It’s funny because it’s true. Actually, it’s not funny because it’s true.

These are all true stories, every single panel. I did overhear a TSA agent laughing about a dildo in a carryon bag on the X-ray conveyor belt. My husband did get detained because the TSA determined that gluten free flour tested positive for explosives. A TSA agent did take my unopened packages of hummus and yogurt, insisting they were liquids, because, if you turned them upside down, they would fall out. My father does say what he says in panel 4, female Israeli soldiers with Uzis do interrogate you if you walk through the door of El Al, and I really did accidentally carry a switchblade through security, and a TSA agent really did find it, decide it couldn’t possibly be mine, and ask me what I wanted him to do.

Airport security in this country feels broken, perhaps because we’ve given the TSA so much power, and so many of those agent don’t seem especially intelligent, generating a system where ignorant bullies have carte blanche to take out their insecurities on people who just want to go see their families. It would be nice if we weren’t all treated like terrorists, considering that the TSA apparently couldn’t catch a terrorist if they ran naked through security with a stick of dynamite in their mouth. Everything about airline travel is pretty messed up, but security is just a joke. I can’t count the number of times people have told me they didn’t even realize they had knives in their bag until they got home. The TSA misses all the dangerous stuff, and then ruins people’s day over 3 bags of gluten free flour. Plus, they talk to you like you’re the idiot.

It’s frustrating, and all we can do about, as far as I can tell, is bitch on the Internet. I actually wrote the “hummus is liquid” story on one of my old blogs, and I get a lot of mileage out of the switchblade story at parties. We’ve given up real freedom for imaginary security.