Connecting Artists to the Community with Education, Therapy and Fun

Just remember, Jesus was a rebel, too.


Some wonderful things have been happening recently. Little and some not so little coincidences have been occurring more often than not~ for those of you who don't know, I'm a person of very strong faith. Sometimes my tastes/choices may appear to be at odds with faith, but in actuality, it is a testament to my belief that a loving Creator has made me who I am, experiences, tastes and all.

Either way, the forging continues and I'm blessed to see the alignments move together to work out in ways only Faith can illustrate. If fear is the opposite of faith, I must have been in hell. It was such a dark period- strike that, a LONG, dark, bleak period- that still my interior is trying to understand. Through the confusion, I've come to a place where I can be grateful. Not for all of it because the pain was so intense... but I'm here to say that my strongest understanding of God has come from being WAY pissed off at God.

The idea might not be thought of fondly, especially if God is thought of as the father figure that needs to be coddled to be accepting (or otherwise try to not bruise his ego) but the truest measure of faith might be to  show your ugliest and know that you will still be loved wholly. Nothing I can do will jeopardize this. Nothing you can do, either. I don't understand the pain~ maybe Jesus didn't, either in his case, except that maybe I needed it to be moved in the direction that I needed to go. Lord knows I was a stagnant recluse before this. Maybe Creator knew what type of stubbornness s/he was up against and then perpetuated the motivational flame under my butt?

The force had to be greater than the opposition, didn't it? 

I don't understand all the things my Creator has- or had- in store for me, but it is true that I jump before the net is there and somehow I'm caught, safely. Even when I'm convinced nothing's there and am so low that I don't care if SPLAT is what happens next.

But this faith has gotten second nature and it, the net, appears- magically- for this, my gratitude is as immense as the stars in the sky. Just somehow it seems that the exact moment when something is needed, it is supplied~ its no secret to me what is going on, God is working (as always) but in more obvious ways~ recently. Its gotten so that its commonplace, like a best friend popping over. "Oh yeah, that's God. Hadn't ya'll met? He's here all the time."

Case in point--- the beautiful, warm hearted Tracy from MS Art Supply donated a watercolor paint palette, and the need for it popped up the next time I was at the GCWCFNV. They just had a new person arrive, who was a watercolorist... Most of the time in a situation like that, women leave their abusers with only the bare necessities~ those of us from the coast aren't unfamiliar to leaving in a hurry--- mandatory evacuations aren't unusual to us. But what if the hurricane was your husband and he was the category 5? Catastrophe being inevitable, you have to leave your house, lose what you've worked for (or else you'll die) to grab what you can and leave. Your beloved watercolors, if he's allowed you to have something to love besides him, is overtaken in the surge of fear and left by the wayside. Maybe even destroyed from the fury of him having no control over you anymore.

So, I had left the watercolor palette at home the day I met her. Thought of her, but didn't say anything because the center has a quick turn around, so no one ever knows if the same folks will be in one group from the next. But sure enough, there she is at our next session.

So here she is and I'm getting the palette out of the bag... now get this- it was her birthday. Who could have arranged such a perfect coincidence? God was making sure that she had something to hold onto, no matter what or where she was. Ack, it makes my eyes tear up every time I think about it.

This is a small series of coincidences, but God is in the details, remember? Denise Williams and I are talking about what needs to be done for the Moss Point high school students. Just a conversation, how much stress are you under, girl? This needs done, tell me about it, that needs done and oh- yes, I need to call so and so. Damnedest thing- she says, "you know, I need to go to Lowes and get some of that lumber pieces they have left over for drawing boards." I say, "Well, thats funny, Stephen and I have to go to Lowes in about 10 mins to get something for the shed. I'll ask for you when I get there-"

We chuckle and move on.  She says, "There's a nice lady in Gautier, Magnolia framing gallery, and she said we could have her pieces of scrap matt board."

"Thats funny," I say "I've got to go there Wednesday and I'll ask her then, too." A raised eyebrow!

Then, we get to talking about Tuesday being art club day. I'm scared, thinking of how I'm going to get the kids' art classes going and this, too. Guess what? Apparently the club is supposed to happen because attendance is down and this leaves room open for moving on to older students. Coincidences, coincidences.

The lumber is ours for the taking, thanks to manager Ryan :)

Went by Magnolia framing and Mary was out sick :( But I'll be back over there this upcoming week.

OK--- here is the end all be all. For years the number 333 comes up for me. Folks joke about it with me that its half of 666, but for me, its a sacred trinity- three of threes. The star of creation has 2 triangles, a third one if you add the tertiary colors. I woke up at 3:33 a.m. three times in a row. My Dad's fema trailor had 333 on its side and the GCWCFNV's P.O. Box is... you guessed it... 333.

So, I guess I'm supposed to work there and that is what spurred me onto do what I'm afraid of most for them and the cause I believe in, public speaking. At one of their conferences- Stormy Seas- I go do "Art therapy and how it heals and helps traumatized people to communicate". Its on this website somewhere :)

So, I get there and do my thing. Pretty good, too, I couldn't believe how it felt like something else took over and I got into it and just let it "flow". The response was wonderful and I felt high.

A while later, I met Donna's (from the rec center) sister Tonya for the second time (those of us with "artist brain" know how this is possible) and--- come to find out--- she was at the conference. I didn't know she even knew about it. She didn't know I did this type of thing. Hey, neither did I.

So, we got to talking and come to find out she is also a Believer like me, saw odd things like me, and she was moved by what I said and wanted to write about my experiences in her book... she was looking for an artist to do a cover for her book and just knew if she waited long enough that one would come along. Lo and behold, there I am. Sure enough, ya'll, here it is. This is an awesome cause and a wonderful lady~ her heart is as large as all the oceans put together and I'm honored to have met her and had something worthy to contribute.

Tonya Moye's Book, From the Heart of the Broken

But then one of the most influential, loving and accepting people in my life came to be in this manner, too. What a thing that we would meet up? On the day that I was at the Art House in Ocean Springs, this nervous natured petite lady came in and was asking about a tutor for her daughter. I wanted to do it soooooo bad, but this was back in the day before the upswing out of depression. I didn't know if I could finish it once it started, didn't know if I could keep up. She gave me her number, it was obvious she felt my apprehension and was wanting me to feel at ease- and I did, not something that happened too often then.

So, months later (yes, it took that long to gain courage) i called and then went over there to meet Annie. After one meeting, it was obvious that she'd get into MSA (Mississippi School of Art) without much help from me, but what I could do was offer what a college professor would be looking for in a portfolio. ZOOM without question, Annie got in!

come to find out, in many ways, Lisa and I have much in common. In other ways, she's been a mentor, supportor and (ha ha) instigator. She might even talk me into Motherhood.

These folks have evolved into family. Who knew one day that someone can evolve into someone indispensible in your life? And then, she was the one who supported me into the gutsy moves that started Art with Heart and all these other things? None of this would have happened if it hadn't been for Lisa's patience and curiosity

So much going on artwise, so much still to do--- thank Goodness Gustav didn't want a visit here. Stephen and I have been working on getting the "Art shed" usable and its a hit, just what the doctor ordered. Art with Heart now has a storage area for art, art show necessities and materials. Its nice to have room in the house.

Elton, the "Guard Duck" is waddling back and forth, guarding the shed-- chasing pigeons and Stephen (yes, it IS funny :)

The images from Riverfest have been resized and will be uploaded tonight...

Interestingly, the paint brushes that the Moss Point highschool artists worked so hard for finally came in today, too. Right after Mrs. Williams and I talked and I told her they hadn't come in yet. Monday, they'll be delivered.

Blessings to all and keep your eyes peeled for new images.

This'll be interesting as its deja-vu all over again... Our area is in need of art therapy (and therapy in any sort, really) because this will trigger issues, latent and otherwise.

For those of us in which this is true, simply stated, go towards good and healthy. Activities and people that increase positive feelings of wellbeing and helps one deal with and transform the anger, worry and anxiety is so needed. Mental vacations occasionally is OK. Deal with things a little at a time and then take a breath of fresh air. Repeat as needed.

Some mental vacations are damaging, of course; I'm worried that some will go toward substances, but the negative consequences that addiction brings will tow its own need for interventions.

On a personal level, the halt of the daily grind, the intensity and excitement is one thing- ya'll know I'm an adrenaline junkie, but I'm tired of cleaning up messes... literally and symbolically. 

The whole concert was great~ and it kicked off questions of what brings people to adrenaline laden arenas?  It was a blessing to see these folks in the flesh, the beat in your chest, the energy flowing, the electricity in the air the rush in your heart. If I hadn't been so dehydrated, I'd have cried. It felt like home. We met wonderful, giving and sweet people from Mexico City all the way to Louisiana. Ha ha!

But whats been stated before over and over, especially reiterated on Metal: A headbanger's journey , (more towards the end)  metal concerts are so much about family and something even more intrinsic, a tribal mentality... a belonging with a group when everyone else, those "out there", seems to be a criticizing force.

"Criticizing force" and the need to get away from it... where does that need come from? Depends on who you talk to. Me? Many things created alienation in my earlier life and then several times later on in adulthood. In adulthood, the number one cause of alienation was ME. Seems sometimes we re-live that which we have not understood enough to change it. This is why, of course, you see children growing up to be abused in adulthood because they don't understand its been passed down to them from years of generational input. Yes, I got on the merry go round, too.

Hmmm... the criticizing force~ the part of my personality that still feels "there" comes from a time where I was a problem child and proud of it. It was said "Where Linda Roberts (my maiden name) went, trouble followed". It was true the tools other people had weren't available to me and what I could do with what I had wasn't good enough. It was really tough deal through a formative time and well, we can't choose what shapes us, right?

My hellraising was inherent, however. My paternal grandmother was a McCoy, as in the Hatfields and McCoys- something about them just made them hellraisers. They fought outside, they fought inside--- they just fought. If society wanted poodles, these people were the bulldogs of the world. There is a sociological reason for this, studies have been done on it, too. (See Born Fighting: How the Scots-Irish Shaped America and  Historical Usage of the word Redneck) It has to do with the British invasion of the Scots-Irish and the need to hunker down and thwart off an enemy. Maybe Metal has a Celt tradition? It certainly has a few things in common... But certainly my love of heavy metal is genetic. Go ahead, laugh, I have :). 

Seriously, some traits really are genetic, like the ones that bring a person to a metal concert. Like sensation seeking and boredom intolerance, see ADD and Creative Individual Trait comparison. I'd always been an adrenaline junkie- one of Mom's favorite stories is about me begging her to scare me. She'd hang out in the hall or lurk in the closets and jump out and scream. Dad wanted to tie both of us up by our tongues. Gosh, I must've been 2 or 3 at most? But when other little girls liked quiet tea parties, lace and barbie dolls and perfume, I wanted to dance on furniture, read books about Manson and paint "bad" things on the neighbors whirly gigs. Mom wanted so much for me to be into something Victorian and dainty. OK, well, I did like barbies, I guess, too, but rather posed them for portraits (yes, Lisa, I did) and taught them math. Still have the pics :) Sometimes I designed their houses, but always had them dressed to kill.

Anyway, then if you add that in with difficulty being bored (see low boredom tolerance they call it) and causing trouble just to maintain attention span in school.

Some of the practical jokes were pretty bad and they made it hard to be my friend because trouble almost always followed me. It was lonely sometimes because the "nice" kids steered clear and the ones just as wild flocked to me like seagulls after fries. I haven't grown out of it and don't believe I will~ God made me this way and made me this way for a reason. God has made other kids this way, too... but common teaching methods don't reach people like me. Lisa was this way, too, and we both took a bit more patience and understanding.

Common teaching methods have been called by some researchers a "pathology based system". What creates something "pathology based" is that it makes a person feel bad about themselves rather than good. If we mold and model children by telling them: no, don't do this, you've got to quit doing that, stop this, you're bad if you can't do that, why are you being stupid? All we are going to get are kids that feel horrible about themselves later--- but for now in the teenage years, there is all this energetic hate that builds. Gotta go somewhere. 

What would help? Lordy, this is a hard one. Education is a good start. This might help.

What would have made my experience different?  Now, there's this thing called "Learning Styles" . I'll post more about it later, but it was good looking it up for now.
Learning Styles and multiple intelligences

Back from Ozzfest! It was MAYHEM, MADNESS AND MISCHEIF. It really was history making, to say the least. What was history making about it? It was the first time Ozzy had Metallica in Ozzfest, the first public playing of their new album- the first outside ears to hear it (besides those nearest and dearest to them), the first metal concert Charlotte (BFF) has been to, first time to Dallas, and first time I'd ever been on a trip with neither husband nor parents with me...  

WHOA BOYs, HANG YOUR HATS, THESE LADIES ROCKED THE ROAD!   Land speed records, toll booth laws (hey, we didn't have change!) and the Vicksburg Country Club rules were broken. Well~ lets say they had something riding on their golf course besides the cute little cartie-things. (Yes, we did drive on the golf course in broad daylight in a car that read "OZZFEST 2008" on the windshield). 

The drive there was wonderful because we went via roads less travelled~ or never travelled for me~ and it was beautiful. The traffic was great, no detours or speed traps.  

We got there, the hotel was very nice... complete with concert shuttle service! No need to drive in crazy post-concert conjestion. I've got to say, this was the coolest this Hampton Inn has ever been ;) Tons of metal heads all over the place- waddling, headbanging and evil-eye gesturing to and fro.

 but get THIS: We were in the PIT of the main stage at an Ozzfest. OK, take time to say all hail to the Queens :) Yes, the pit... for a while anyway, but we had to get out after a few bands because the heat was too much--- people were passing out standing up because there was no water besides what the security got for us out of pity. We could have been squirted with water hoses, but they had only one on the opposite side of the stage that wouldn't reach our area.  

People moshed right behind us, we tossed over crowd surfers, got kicked in the head from those we didn't catch soon enouth, Charlotte's glasses almost took flight out of both our reaches, people were dropped on our heads, I had to shove a guy by the head away from us, we were slammed up against the rail and other people~ it was great. This is what a metal concert is about! We jumped up and down in unison to the thrash metal playing- when we could without passing out. 

We were in the pit from 11 am til 4:30 pm, just before Jonathan Davis. You have to read those backwards~ remember, like listening to your old records backwards?   CAVALERA CONSPIRACY     3:35 - 4:15   
SHADOWS FALL    2:50 - 3:25   
APOCALYPTICA    2:10 - 2:40   
IN THIS MOMENT  1:30 - 2:00     

We  really hated giving up our spots, but we opted to get tossed over the the fence-rail for water. We then booked as fast as we could to the nearest water-bearer.... honey, I shoved tatooed, doo-rag wearing monsters aside for some ice out of the beer bottle bucket and I'd do it again, too. Its amazing how instinctual thirst is, REAL thirst. The kind that makes your tongue swell and spots swirl in your vision~ this was heat stroke weather. I was not about to pass out and go to the emergency room and miss Ozzfest.  

After we hung out in the stinky air conditioned bathroom (you couldn't drink tap water, it was all hot) and drank the cheapest drink they had in bulk, diet Dr. Pepper, we had a salty pretzel for health reasons. You need salt when you dehydrate.  

During Jonathan Davis, we meandered across the stadium to hang out in the shade and I eventually mustered the energy to retrieve nachos while Charlotte nursed her migraine. A hotel breakfast, half pretzel and nachos were our only sustenance the entire day... in some countries, we would be considered wealthy for that, but here, water was gold. 

 While Hell Yeah played (TOO GOOD for their own good, btw) we ate nachos. When we felt up to it, we looked for a better seat to watch the main shows. 

 Ozzy's came on with his usual energy and crowd whipping-up... the whole show ended up unusually good~ he took out "War Pigs", something in the other Ozzy concerts I've not seen before, then "Fire in the Sky" and a few others that'd not been done.

 Much of his latest album was played (yes!!) and Zak ground out his stellar solo. (Folks who know Zak Wylde knows that he slept during school and practiced guitar all night long. God knows what He (She) is doing, so, teachers, please don't pick on *those* students, they may end up in good places afterall).  

After everything was said and done for Ozzy, fireworks went off. In between our neighbors pot-puffs, a few good songs played while we waited for Metallica... Disturbed, a few others. Then the lights went down. A few teasers from the crew trying out the guitars and drums. Silence.  

Out cranked the heart shaking base of "Creeping Death"! Lights flew up and Metallica mastered the stage with a vengence and verve that matched the hype of all previous concerts put together. Everything was as good as the rumors preceding them said they would be and all my years of waiting for the show was worth it. "Harvester of Sorrow", "Sad. but true", "Master of Puppets", "And Justice for All"--- I've never seen that many fists pumping in the air in unison ever.  

Oddly, they ended when I originally quit listening to Metallica. My most favorite band had been "abandoned" after the black album because I picked up the conservative battle, trying to look like a respectable something or other. (I'm sorry... honestly, I didn't know any better.)    After an outstanding war-like pyrotechnic "One", they introduced one of their first band members (Lord, was I hoping for Dave Mustaine!) but instead brought out one of their best friends (or Lars's best friend, ego maniac that he is) King Diamond to do something from Garage Days. I didn't recognize it- or him- but tolerated it to wait to see if they'd do something from Load or Reload. Nope... "Seek and Destroy" was the end.  

 After a near fist fight to get a cab (hey, she knocked us out of the way, so I knocked her back and Charlotte cussed her) we made friends with her embarrassed friend. Ironically, we were going to the same hotel, but the cab driver didn't want to pick her up, so he took off. 

 We zig zagged through double cab fares to stumble upon our original cab driver that got us there: a Brooklynite named Ozzy!!! Angels were guiding us. Yaaaay Ozzy-Ozzy-Ozzy!!! This guy made the cab drive almost as exciting as the concert. He honked people to get out of the way while we cheered him on.  

 The Utah girls in the back said this was their first cab ride... I said, poor future cab drivers, its all downhill from here. This is the coolest cab rides we've ever had! LOL, extreme cabbies :) An ambulance behind us had trouble getting people out of the way, but not Ozzy~ the NY horn from hell kept honking til they got out of the way, clearing the path for the ambulance. I guess they thought we had an emergency. Well, technically, we did- with no where to go to get out of the way, we did help the ambulance. 

  When we made it to the hotel, we b-lined to the juice bar (no booze for us) and rehydrated with glass after glass of water, apple juice and cranberry juice. Up to the room then, we laughed til we hurt at what photos we could get on the lap top. We both laughed til tears rolled down my cheeks! We were so exhausted we crashed without showers or undressing.   

Getting up to drive home was haaaaard.... we waddled down to the breakfast area where hungover and half deaf metal heads were stumbling about.    An 8 hour drive back home and voila, here we are. More will come later, but its taken me a while to just piecemeal this together through the odd jobs that keep calling my attention. It was hard to get back into the swing of things, but it was great to get home to Stephen. I missed him terribly. I couldn't sleep until I got home :)    

Once upon a time, long ago I wanted to go to an Ozzy/Metallica concert. Well, actually, wanting to wasn't even in the cards for me because that was a fairie tale that only happened to other people <wink>. But, here we are... 20 or so years later and the duo are back together again at this year's Ozzfest. How can I not go??? This is the type of music that saved my psyche, its a must :)

So, one of my bestest friends in the whole world is going to Dallas, TX with me- we're going to have a blast, just two gals letting our hair down and putting our feet up (and fists in the air, too :)
 
A wise lady once told me that we have to hit all our milestones (ages, years, ect) no matter what order they come in. I never got to be a teenager... so teen angst is still evident in this rocker's soul- altho the angst may come and go, the rocker is here to stay.

Have a good weekend, ya'll. Love and rock on, Linda

No matter who you are, different forces pull you apart. Man verses nature (Katrina) Should I stay or should I evacuate? Authenticity verses acceptance, the drive to stand out artistically or fit in and be accepted. Sometimes the pull is how deep can I take a subject before it becomes unhealthy? Leave it alone or push further?

Sometimes the wisdom and answers are worth it. Sometimes the pain and torment isn't. Sometimes the answers are one in the same. Surround yourself with strong, supportive wonderful women. Be like a thirsty sponge and soak up all they offer, then support and uphold strength in the women in your lives. And, all things considered, limit exposure to toxic substances- gas fumes, radiation and people. Thats the point... end of story.

But, then again,  if we stopped our thinking processes there, art would never happen :) Art happens when you continue and push further, shove against the seed hull, plant thought provoking roots that burst forth out of fertile ground into the moist, sunny air.

"The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance."
-- Aristotle (384-322 BC)

Its one thing to understand what causes a thing, a phenomenon, but its another for that reason to justify its being. Understanding why someone can hate someone else cannot excuse the cruelty~ no matter what drive it was caused by. (My theory, society villainizes the drive without understanding, but the drive itself isn't evil and understanding it is key to knowing what is poisonous to the psyche... ignore it at your own peril. To stifle drives is to remain ignorant sheep in a world of wolves.)

Its so hard to realize that sometimes, in real life, there really is no justification for something- no matter how understandable it is. Think about it all day long, but it doesn't make it any better. Hate it as it is, fight the helplessness that erupts within, but the allmighty IT just *is*- as annoying and wrong as it feels.

What got my hair kinked up is sexism~ not the man against woman variety or the other way around, but this is a hatred of women from other women. You've seen it most likely whispered over sugary desserts under frilly hats in churches, lunches with your sisters' friends, the visit with the auntie that really gets on your nerves. Hopefully not from your Mama, but sometimes from there, too. Many times, this comes across as envy, but it is poison to the sacred self at both the loudest and most silent ways no matter from what direction because what is said about one woman's success is a stab at all women's successes.

I ran into someone who just couldn't believe I made this website. I was angry~ learning from it to stay away from this person, but the sadness of the situation still effects me. Its not that one thing, many other barbs have been thrown at other women just shoot around her conversations, having to do with successful women who should submit to some masculine authority.

Her past tells the story of why women end up being the eternal villains. In her world, being on the same intellectual level as men- or your personal man- is evil, more than a faux pas. Maybe in her world her significant other can't handle the competition? Maybe this is the safety net. Painful sounding, sad.

I wondered if she was really ok with a limited existence... and how many of us fall prey to the same cage. What do we cut off to make someone else feel good? To muffle insecurities. What has Stephen given up?

Gotta admit, I've dumbed down, how about you? Probably will again without even knowing it. Get around someone you know needs to feel needed and maybe even macho--- and you step back and let him put up the painting for you. Its just thought of as being polite~ but is it, really? And sincerely, as brilliant as I think Stephen is, I would hate to be limited by him. He loves me and would hate that, too.

Either way, the question inevitably came up that maybe it has something to do with generation, age, social class, societal values or the like. Yes, maybe so... some of it. But not enough to justify it or to lessen its insidiousness. We're not that different in any of the above, but she does like to blame it on that I'm an artist- ooooh, you know those crazy artists ;o)

Oh, and YES I am. All that and more. Been a construction worker (welder, pipefitter's helper, firewatch, holewatch, cutter, ect) and the fight with the men for the right to put food on the table in that manner was an uncoordinated dance at best.  Other things, too, but life feels like its just starting. There's more to come.

I am humbled to tears by strong women, stories Lisa tells of Annie, her Grandmother- a pioneer stewardess  on some of the first airlines and a photographer, too; how her Mom picked up the tab and ran with "the pants" when her parents split- and she's an old fashioned southern Lady, too, so that couldn't have been easy. Lisa picked up the backbone and "the pants", taking care of 3 kids and damn well, I might add. My mom, splitting from a controlling and abusive man who took her self efficacy and esteem, to give the same strength of character to the women at AA for 20 years.

Jackie Webb, Donna Joseph and Betty doesn't know how much they've given me and others by just being there to allow thirsty sponges to stand nearby, learning from example.

But the painting that keeps popping up is the one about the bird caged by the things she believes are true, things she's been told. The topic just keeps popping up: when doing the research for last Thursday's therapy session, authentic self and self esteem, the question sang out~

Who were you before other people changed you into who you were not?

I'm uploading images from lightroom into photoshop to edit, which takes a while, so I've had time to channel surf on tv. Bopping around, I ran across this techno-dance-trance music thats great to compute to and keep your attention up and running.

So, half paying attn, I look up and see the biggest concert I've personally laid eyes on. Impressive, so I wait to see who is in the middle of all the hubub. Believe it or not, he is what America would consider a dork-  :) (LOL, I mean this in a respectful way, wait and see.)

So, here is this guy most of us wouldn't give a second glance to at a gas station, in what looks like a WalMart sale-shirt, hopping up and down, looks like he can't even dance, yet he's flying his freak flag in the middle of 250,000 people and they're all dancing to HIS music. Who is the guy? Fatboy Slim-- and the concert is the Big Beach Boutique II. I'd never heard of him, but apparently, he's huge across the big pond.

But I sat here in between uploads, mesmerized by the music and the happiness this quarter of a million or so people shared... it struck me why it looked so weird~  they all looked authentic and authentically happy. (Altho they were privy to more chemicals than all the companies on Industrial Avenue combined, it was something to see this unvain fellow up there shaking his wares and making all these people dance.)
 
Feeling good about yourself no matter what package you come in, this is what British fame looks like. Unlike an American shin-dig, there were no big fake teeth or other big fake things ;) and this guy hadn't had any face lifts or collagen injections. So completely diggable, I am proud to see a place like this, and a person like him- existing.

While I've had time to sit here, do computer work and look around, its sad what media has convinced us just to make money off us: that we need to work until we have no life left.... to afford teeth whitening, plastic surgery, diets and exercise fads to look like these fake airbrushed folks on tv. It was so refreshing to see these beautiful people hanging around an ordinary Joe with an extraordinary beat. Nice model for awh.

Anniversaries of the Heart. I read about this in Sarah's Simple Abundance  book, one of the most influential books to teach awareness, positivity and mindfulness through simple methods- imho. She teaches how to see that even during storms of life, living and loving and joy still exists.  Her essay about Anniversaries of the Heart discusses the smell of food cooking during a time of the year that brings back memories to a contented time or it could be the  seriousness of a passing of a loved one. But something triggers an emotional transportation, sometimes serene, sometimes not.

One of my anniversaries was yesterday- it was my Dad's birthday. I didn't remember the day, but the day remembered me~ I was sad, emotionally touchy and distracted. We had a complicated and strained relationship and he's gone now.

Something about the weather never changes (besides it being hot) on his birthday, its the light and the colors of the earth, the smell of the air and length of day. It feels like a hilltop that opens up the view across a countryside after walking up a too steep climb to the top... and now its over and the rest is downhill. Coasting comes as a welcome relief, even though tired feet had rather rest.

Speaking of Simple Abundance, she has info about the gratitude journal here. The Gratitude Journal is something that was a wonderful part of my life that I'm looking forward to picking back up.
 

One thing about being human is PAIN. Darn having a body that messes up and breaks down! Since Wednesday, my head, neck and back between my shoulders have hurt. I mean hurt. Smells, light and sounds made it worse, so I thought it was a migraine. It got so bad I couldn't move my eyes to the left or the right~ and this weather is making it worse- the humidity, ugh. Relief came in the form of a lyrica pill this morning- I even got to move around :) THANK YOU.

I even painted it last night, a small watercolor experiment that I might make larger (after this goes away). It really helped to put a face on it, put direction to it and color. The red is the searing pain behind the eyes and the jagged edges are what feels like rose thorns being pulled into my eye sockets. The green at the spinal area is the numb-tingling at the center of the source of pain. It radiates from the muscles at either side, however.

The pain isn't what stays, tho, what makes it so frustrating is missing the things special to this weekend: Saturday's playground build and art stuff, Sunday's painting a sign for the new Moss Point Police Chief for Donna. Not much got done, I'm sorry to say- except computer searches. I found a fibromyalgia site and it really made sense- so many other issues go along with fibromyalgia that I have as well. Thank goodness it goes away for a while.

All I can say is, that if I was supposed to do something for you this weekend- I'M SORRY.