Drowning In My Own Inspiration...

...or is that my own mucus? I have a terrible cold, much worse than the one I had last winter. My head hurts, my sinuses are pounding, and my nose won't stop dripping. However, the muse kept me up for the better part of last night, something that always happens when I look at things like this : www.conceptart.org

There's a few drawings, paintings, and sculptures I want to get round to, but I just haven't the time or the materials. Last night I kept thinking about drawing myself as Insomniatica, (guess what her pet peeve is) with her long, flat, messy, hair, dark bags under her eyes, and pajamas that just won't fit comfortably; possibly worshiping comatose at her computer, not quite giving into sleep but hardly in the realm of conscious thought either.

The other project that came to me last night will be called "Venus in Furs" or "Diana versus Aphrodite". I want to paint one of my virginal classmates surrounded by menacing wolves. "What is it with the wolf thing?", you might ask. Yes I know I'm obsessed, and I already made a giant she wolf hybrid sculpture, but surely you can never have enough of a good thing?

I saw the esclafowne movie last week and I have to say I was terribly disappointed with the plot and character development, everyone seemed a bit 2 dimensional and pointless. Although the animation was beautiful, if a bit dark at times.

I've been imagining weird people and faeries all week. I think I overloaded the left side of my brain with university and it's time for the Revenge of the Right Hemisphere. This morning while I was driving the kids to school there were three long clouds in the sky, it looked like there was a giant angel standing far away on the other side of the city, it's wings outstretched towards heaven. The third cloud was long and thin, reminding me of Longinus's spear, brandished towards some unseen enemy. When I got a second glimpse the clouds had risen higher into the air with the sun shinning through one of the wings; it was a truly beautiful sight. And yes, I've seen one episode too many of Evagelion by the looks of things.

Edit: Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, I'm glad I came back to check this post. It was full of truly nonhabitual spelling mistakes, and I wrote it exactly like I would have said it, FAST. Throw caution and punctuation to the wind I say!

Ladeeda

Just a quick update to appease my fans (well okay Rachel and Eric, who I love dearly, and not just because they read my blog). University is going well, just had a communication exam out of the twilight zone. It was about non verbal communication, and the teacher gave me the most unrelated questions, at least in relation to the study guide. Are eating disorders social problems? Then again I shouldn't complain it was an easy 10 - I love verbal exams!

Phone bill came in the mail today X_X. I've made 40 dlrs worth of calls to the rockstar's mobile phone, and am in deep trouble as a result. Dad hasn't seen it yet so I'm looking for daring and foolish ideas to avoid punishment. The best one so far has been hiding the bill, raising the money with a garage sale and paying it myself. The easiest alternative, if utterly unpleasant, would be to listen to the lecture....I think I might sleep on it over the weekend...

William had his first proper barf. It was very scary, like the one in the exorcist except it was yellow. Speaking of which, I have to go pick him up from daycare, but I'll post more tomorrow.

Yo!
I also added some birthday pickies to my brithday post "21 years of me on the wall..."

The Adventures of Gorgeous Chaparrita and Awesome Rocker

People reading this outside of Mexico will find this hilarious. I laughed for about half an hour straight when it was explained to me, although my Mexican readers might wonder: "What's so bloody funny, pendeja?"

There are a couple of factors in Mexican culture that make it quite unlikely anyone that isn't married is going to be able to have sex at home. For starters most people live with their parents till they get married, especially women. There is a small number of professionals that move out, but that's a minority that tends to be over 30. Second, more likely than not, there's usually going to be someone at home since a lot of women are still home makers and most families have at least 2 or 3 children.

Then there's the morality issue (or the pretending to have morality issue, at least). Mexico is a Catholic country and we get a bit carried away sometimes. Well not really we, I'm not even baptized (which makes me the spawn of the devil as far as most people here are concerned). Having sex before marriage is generally frowned upon, again, particularly if you're a woman. Getting caught at home would probably involve either getting kicked out or being locked in for the next 2 years. I'm possibly exaggerating, but in any case one would be in BIG trouble. And anyhow, who wants to get caught doing it by their parents?

So does everyone abstain and behave like good little chaste boys and girls? Not on your life. Fortunately, some enterprising soul came up with motels. Motels, you ask? Aren't those like hotels except you park right outside your room? Not here. You want somewhere to spend the night you go to a hotel. You want somewhere for a little privacy and love (okay, imagine Barry White's voice for this), you go down to a motel, baby.

I always wondered why all the Motels around here have really high walls. The layout is basically the same, one drives in, pays up at a window (or someone comes out to get the money), and is given a number. The number indicates what garage one's going to drive into. They have little automatic doors to eliminate the worry about anyone seeing your car at a motel, tsk tsk. These places charge about 26 dollars for 9 hours for a simple room. A suite with a jacuzzi will cost twice as much. Quite the business. Maybe not as good as sitting outside with a camera and blackmailing people though.

Oh Dear...

Mmmm have I mentioned I'm paranoid? And I'm not even clever enough to do it undercover. I feel like Charlie Brown some days, I seem to worry about all the wrong people and especially about all the wrong, insignificant, off hand comments. I'll analyze till I've time-space traveled through every possible Universe and then some. Basically, I though R had fibbed about being a good little English teacher and going to do his lesson plans, when he was actually planning on going to see footie with a friend. In fact, although he did go watch the footie, he hadn't planned to apparently, and to be fair, I have no reason to doubt him...except for THAT phone call...but see, there I go doing it again. In any case, I take it all back, not all men are lying scumbags. Just most of them.

In other news, I had a nice weekend, Friday involved clubbing as usual, me and co. went to the Ole Caribe (How quaint, no?); Saturday R's band played at the Pedro's a.k.a. Peter's house, which was really neat. There was a guy there so high, I have to wonder if space cowboy ever came down. I also met Tania's sister in law, Nayeli who is lovely and is going to do my nails, and Isella (I think that's how you spell it) who was really nice. And I'm not just saying that because she called me linda. All in all, people I want to see again.

Sunday involved attempting to clean the house again, but we have chaos and filth sprites who disagree. I swear I clean a room and the second I leave for a moment it goes right back to how it was. The fact that we have a baby in the house can't have anything to do with it...can it? I also went to a great seafood restaurant, " La Bahia" with William and R. We had cocktails and oysters. I absolutely love oysters, I think they're fantabulous. And I like chewing them too, I don't give a toss how one's supposed to eat them. Question: Is my fake British accent as good as Madonna's? Take into account I don't have a voice coach. I also went into paranoia overdrive as mentioned above, which was spurred on by a little phone conversation, which was itself ignited by a little football match: Mexico vs. Brazil. And guess what? WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS! Yes, MEXICO is now world champion! Hurrah! Okay so it was the under 17's division, but that doesn't matter, they'll be playing in the big leagues soon enough.

I have a problem. I want to kill someone. Genuinely. Who do you think it might be? Answers on a postcard to the usual address. I'm not going to kill them, but for all the wrong reasons and it's bothering me. In a nutshell, one of my mom's friend's husbands seems to have been raping their 3 year and 9 month old girls, and has been definately sleeping with his 15 year old niece. It doesn't look like anyone is going to do anything to put the bastard behind bars and who's to say he won't go and do it again. I keep trying to remember that all human life has worth and that it's not my place in the grand scheme of things to go avenge anything, much as I'd like to be Batman or The Punisher in my comic book fed fantasy world. But I could, if I wanted to and without risking myself too much. Well though out plans involving poison, self defense or a pig farm could all do the trick...so why don't I? I have no illusions that I'm overcoming my base instincts and am deep down a noble soul. Maybe I'm just scared that if I cross that line nothing will be the same again. Maybe I'll want to kill more people. Maybe the fact that he's a total jerk and deserves it is just an excuse? Maybe I'm just full of my own bullshit.

I talked to my dad about how I was feeling, and he gave me the standard issue,
-"It's none of your business, hopefully the wife will talk to the police, leave it up to the Big Man in the Sky."
I think that is too much of a cop out, and I told him so,
-"But I don't trust the Big Man."
-" That is the source of all your sorrows, and it will continue to be until you entrust yourself to him."
WTF!? Why is it so wrong that I want to take responsibility for myself and my surroundings. I don't think leaving everything up to the will of some figment of some Jew's imagination is going to fix anything. For the mean time, I'm trying to remind myself why killing other human beings is wrong...

I thought I heard little stones tapping at my window. I'm given to romantic flights of fancy of that sort. But alas, the street is empty and there's no heavyweight jumping beans sitting on my window ledge.