Zlightly Zetti

for the Three Muses "Zlightly Zetti" challenge

Mixed Media Monday

Last year at about this same time I found that an old friend of mine had died, so I wrote something for him. The fall always makes me remember my friend. This song always makes me remember him. He never had a a wife or children. Most of his family is gone. But I want someone to remember him, so I made this for him. Let me tell you about my friend.

Joel was the first bad boy I ever knew. When we were nine years old, we were assigned seats next to each other in the cafeteria, and two seemingly very different children became friends. He was a wild boy; I was a good little girl. He was smart but he hated worksheets, so he didn't do them; I worked hard to make all E's. He cussed; I was a teacher's pet. He passed around a homemade Playboy magazine in a pink folder and got suspended from the fourth grade; I practiced my dance routine to "Up, Up and Away" for the school talent show.

Maybe our odd-couple friendship was based on the fact that we both came from terribly dysfunctional families, a fact I didn't realize until we were in high school. Or maybe it was just that we shared a wicked sense of humor. Whatever it was, we talked. A lot. We talked at lunch and later, when boys started calling girls in the sixth grade, we'd talk for hours on the phone. I don't remember what we talked about, but he made me laugh, and, no matter how bad his reputation was, he was always sweet to me.

The first time he invited me to go to the fair with him in seventh grade, I realized he had a little bit of a crush on me. I wanted to go with him. I told him I would go, but I chickened out at the last minute. Girls like me just did not go places with bad boys like Joel. He didn't hold it against me, though. The next day at school he brought me a stuffed animal he'd won, and once a year, after that, he'd invite me to the fair, I'd turn him down, and the next day he'd bring me another stuffed animal. Until tenth grade. By then I'd started dating other boys and gotten all involved with prissy things like painting banners for football games and high school formals. Joel spent most of his time riding around smoking pot and trying to score harder stuff. When he transferred to another high school our senior year, I barely noticed.

After high school, I went to college. Joel didn't, and I never saw him again. My e-mail yesterday said that he'd died after a long battle with heroin addiction. In 1980 he was arrested for a simple assault charge and tried to hang himself in jail. The guards cut him down, but not until after he'd suffered brain damage. The next twenty years consisted of one halfway house after another and then finally a nursing home. And then he died.

It's surprising how much I remember about him after so long. I remember a small, skinny boy with shaggy dark blond hair, a grin, and a gleam in his eyes. I remember that he lent me his coat on cold days on the playground. I remember that, in sixth grade, we made a bet about who was taller and, when we were measured for graduation to junior high school, we were nearly the exact same size: 4' 11" tall. I weighed 68 pounds and Joel outweighed me at a whopping 74 pounds. I remember the raspy sound of his laugh when his voice changed. His eyes were green and his middle name was Alan. I remember his red suede Converse All-Stars, his flannel shirts, the shape of his eyebrows and that "Like A Rolling Stone" was his favorite song. I remember when we were studying Great Expectations in the ninth grade and he managed to wake up long enough to read the part of one of the thieves aloud with a ridiculous, hilarious Cockney accent. I remember Joel laughing.

A lot of people I've cared about have died. I feel worse about Joel than anyone else, except my father and a sixteen year old member of my cheerleading squad. Why do I remember Joel in such excruciating detail? I think it's because, even at the age of nine, our souls recognized each other, and we tried to take care of each other just a little bit. Joel didn't get to do what he was supposed to do in life. He didn't get something he needed to make him whole. Joel had goodness and joy in him. He just needed help bringing it out.

I wish he'd had a happier life. I wish he'd found hope. I wish I'd gone to the fair and eaten cotton candy and ridden the double ferris wheel with him just once.

Acoustic Sunrise Sunday

for Sunday Postcard Art and Ma Maison

Eat Love Pray

I decided to go back to Bali yesterday for a day of healing and art. I had a head cold and ached all over, but you know me: any excuse for a celebration.




So I called the school sub-hotline, told them where my emergency lesson plans were, and lit some candles. Soon the aroma of mango and jasmine filled 2 Muse Studio, and I was settled in my comfy chair with George Harrison on the cd player. Ava, the best, best, best sister in the world brought me my favorite sick food: hot and sour soup, and six hours, one nap, and two chai tea lattes later, I had completed one journal page and one and a half small journal canvases... Nirvana

for Inspire Me Thursday and Illustration Friday

Fair Play

Play


Learn


Pass it on




for One Powerful Hour

Theory of Evolution

Even as a teenager, I was never one to keep a diary, but, since I started journaling about a year ago, I've gotten more comfortable expressing my feelings with words. Perhaps the "art" part of art journaling helped. Now, journal pages are my security blanket, my comfort zone, the mashed potatoes of my art. So, I've been playing around with putting my journal pages on canvas. I love journal pages, the freedom to not be perfect, to experiment, and to tell a story. Sometimes, though, the words are hard to share, but the beauty of an art journal page is that you can reveal as much or as little as you want to reveal. You can paint over your words, write them upside down, in code, backwards, or you can just use someone else's words: a song, a poem, a prayer. Since today is International Peace Day, I created a journal on canvas called "Meditation For Healing."




My painting started life as an arch that I created following Belinda Schneider's tutorial at Bel's Nook. I realized early in the incarnation of my arch that it would devolop into a different species entirely.





By Friday it had morphed into a watercolor sketch, and, by Saturday, it had grown details, like the blue crescents, which I photocopied from a Chinese checker tin. On Sunday, I spent the day putting it all together on a 12" X 12" canvas that I distressed with gesso and black acrylic paint. I added metal elements, an old earring, some scrapbook paper, journaling, and the evolution of this little mixed media painting was complete.





For Roo's Day of Peace Party Mixed Media Monday and Creative Therapy. Rhonda is having a Peace Day party on her blog, so please take the time to join a the celebration at Roo's Treehouse and then light a candle, sing a song, or say a prayer for peace across the world.

Rise and Shrine

I TOLD you I would get a fez! Isn't Ava absolutely the best sister in the world? This is what she gave me for my birthday. (Be sure to check out her new photographs on her blog). She knew I needed this festive fez to help celebrate the Cigar Box Shrine Auction Fund-raiser for the children of Oaxaca in March. You can read all about it on Rebecca's blog.




Click here to read all about the Oaxaca Street Children Grassroots Mission.


Here's how you can help:

1.place this logo on your blog and link it to the invitation


2.make a shrine and donate it to the auction

3. return to bid on a shrine, knowing each dollar raised will make a significant difference in the lives of others

Meanwhile, Rock the Casbah!

My Morning Garden

Since today is my birthday, I decided to send myself some flowers.



Walk and touch peace every moment.

Walk and touch happiness every moment.

Each step brings a fresh breeze.

Each step makes a flower bloom.

Kiss the Earth with your feet.

Bring the Earth your love and happiness.

The Earth will be safe

When we feel safe in ourselves.

Thich Nhat Hanh

Creative Therapy

Ode To Joy

for Gothic Arch's birthday celebration and Crazy Amigos.

When You're Good To Mama, Mama's Good to You

(for Saturday Surprise and Saturday Workout)

Let the birthday festivities begin! My big day isn't until next Wednesday, and Wesley's is the following Wednesday, but since we like to tie one on, we started early. In fact, we really started celebrating about a month ago on his girlfriend Brooke's birthday at the First Annual Bob Dylan and Family Reunion Concert. Wesley had given Brooke two tickets to Chicago the musical. Sadly, though, Brooke was already committed to work the night of the show, and guess who got to be the back-up date! So Thursday night me and my baby hit the big city for a little razzle dazzle.






First stop was Wes' favorite favorite restaurant Taqueria Del Sol for the best fish tacos and salsa I've ever had






And then, on to the fabulous Fox Theater for a night of Broadway



Our seats were on the thirteenth row and the show was simply amazing. For two and a half hours, I was transported to the dazzling 1920's world of vaudeville, nightclubs and glamour. Of all the musicals, I've seen performed live, Chicago is my absolute favorite: the music, the costumes,the lyrics, the choreography, and all that jazz!


Next stop on the 2009 Birthday Celebration Tour is girls' night with the Mimis and then another evening of music, with my 3 main squeezes, at the Leon Russell concert Thursday in Athens.

So,

Come on babe
Why don't we paint the town?
And all that jazz

I'm gonna rouge my knees
And roll my stockings down
And all that jazz

Start the car
I know a whoopee spot
Where the gin is cold
But the piano's hot
And all that jazz

My Spirit Garden

I spent most of my Labor Day sitting on my screen porch reading and listening to the birds. I wanted to paint, but I just felt too inert to move. I realized that, like my summer flowers, my inspiration has been fading. I believe that inspiration is a state of connecting with the present world, while at the same time reconnecting to my Spirit. In order to open myself to inspiration, I need clear my mind of the negativity that has taken root. If I am preoccupied with stresses and activities that have nothing to do with inspiration, there's no room for it to grow. So I've decided to tend to my garden, to get rid of the weeds that have sprung up and to reunite with an uncomplicated world of Spirit. I believe that the harvest will be inspiration and a real and lasting happiness.


Perception is everything. I will look at the the world through the eyes of compassion.

I am what I think I am. Kind thoughts build a strong character.


Words are powerful. I will speak only constructive words.

No matter what I say, my actions reveal more about me than my words.

I will seek happiness by trying to making others happy.



I will do my best at all times and have good will toward other people I will not waste effort on anything is destructive to myself or anyone else.

I will be more aware of my thoughts, words, and deeds. The only person I can control is myself.



I will focus on one thing at a time. This is the way to peace of mind.

Creative Therapy

Sunday Postcard Art

The Elf of Plants

Rain brought surprises in the night















The mushroom is the elf of plants
At evening it is not
At morning in a truffled hut
It stops upon a spot.

Emily Dickinson

Look What The Cat Dragged In

Imagine my delight when I came home Tuesday and found a package waiting on my doorstep! My sweet friend Lisa at Groggy Froggy sent me a wonderful collage and this fine fellow. Isn't he just the cat's meow?