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This marked the first New Year’s Eve where I attended a birthday party at the start of my celebration. I’d lived in Austin for 6 years, passing the chain seafood restaurant as I fetched myself to and from yoga, never once stopping in until NYE 2015. I enjoyed the small group of poets gathered as much as I enjoyed my entree–coconut popcorn shrimp!
Hours later, I attended another NYE party, hosted by one of my cousins and former capoeira teacher.
One of his roommates co-hosted the party. He had been teaching his girlfriend to play Go, but I was so excited to see a Go board that I intruded on the lesson. They were both good sports about it.
I’d told my cousin during his birthday party a month ago that I’d wanted to cook one of my homemade lasagnas in their gas oven. Now I’m thinking it should be a lasagna and Go party.
This was the only police officer either my cousin or I ever want to see at a party.
I loved hanging out with the “ol’ capoeira gang,” including some new ones who started after I stopped officially training. I made sure I took pictures with everyone before the ball dropped.
We were both scared when the photographer got this close to take our picture, but it turned out better than we expected.
The first live music I heard in 2016 was this makeshift samba percussion group. I promptly shed my decorative jacket and sambaed my heart out.
An hour earlier, I got this shot from my immediate family, commemorating the east coast celebration–all with sparkling apple cider in hand!
One of my Christmas gifts to myself was a pair of polarized, no-line bifocals. After looking at all the female frames, I wandered over to the male section and found an attractive, cheaper frame, which didn’t have a bunch of fake jewels or girlie bling along the temples. I’d previously worried if I’d walked away with yet another pair of birth control glasses until I saw my younger nephew, the epitome of “in style,” wearing a similar frame when I arrived to their house.
After surviving “Flintstone Airline,” where one a) is charged either $30/40/60 for the first checked bag, depending on how soon one pays; b) has the option of paying an additional $50 for reclining seat; and c) must pay for every snack or drink besides a free small cup of water–with or without ice, nonetheless; and d) surviving my 18-year-old niece’s driving from the airport home, I then figured out that my luggage had not burst after all. Some lowlife airline worker had slashed my luggage from inside the outer pocket and above the zipper.
Initially, I only cared that one of my most cherished creature comforts, my night guard, had fallen out. As I transferred my things from the attacked luggage into the nifty second-hand luggage, I discovered an empty purse I’d packed had been stolen. I jumped through the hoops of reporting it online, but those clowns at “Flintstone Airline,” who will never get my money a second time, preceded to tell me a contradicting procedure for tracking down my property.
Strangely, I felt worse about the washing machine breaking down. As usual, I’d opened the lid, put in my dirty laundry and the liquid detergent, closed the lid, pushed power and it malfunctioned. I sought help from my niece, then my sister. I remembered something flying out when I’d opened the lid. I saw it on the floor, slid it into a slot and it worked! Well, not in the traditional sense of “worked.” The locking system no longer unlocked. One of my sisters and I took turns, using a putty knife, jimmying the washing machine open–a newfound skill we learned on YouTube.
On the eve of Christmas Eve, my sister and her husband, treated the family to a limo ride to the National Theatre in DC to watch “Motown: The Musical.” They had successfully conned all of us into believing that we were taking two cars to the venue.
My brother-in-law had even taken his second bourbon-laced eggnog to go, all the while my mother politely nagged him every step of the way. He juiced us well, stating that the police didn’t write tickets during the Christmas holidays.
A comment that baited me into cautioning him about his logic.
The ten of us fit comfortably with all the grandkids in the middle and the adults at either end.
My sister and her husband sat in the back seat, facing forward.
My parents sat in front of them and my other sister and I sat together in the only rear-facing seat. After all, how often does one get to ride backwards? As much as I enjoyed the comfort of the limo, I wasn’t a big fan of the projected beams of light, primarily because there was always a rifle scope of light projected on my father.
Despite the rainy weather, we arrived at the venue in plenty of time. My nieces and I followed one of the usher’s advice to use the bathroom prior to the show.
I love that my mother took this forbidden picture inside the theatre. It’s an unexciting shot other than it wasn’t supposed to be taken in the first place. The true excitement was the musical itself, enveloping us within many popular Motown songs with an intertwining narrative in between songs.
Afterwards, we ate at a jewel of a greasy spoon. This restaurant was as much of an example of the American dream as were the intermingled stories behind “Motown: The Musical.”
Toward the end of dinner, the matriarch restaurant owner came out to bus our table.
She graciously paused her business as usual to pose for a few pictures with Mom and Dad.
She posed with my sister and her husband, who are small business owners themselves.
I sampled the 3-and 7-year tequilas my brother-in-law had picked up while vacationing in Mexico during Thanksgiving. Despite my most persuasive suggestions, he didn’t want to spare a single shot of either tequila for a coconut margarita. Over ice was fine, but not my favorite for such a strong drink outside of medical purposes.
Here’s the classic calm-before-the-storm shot on Christmas Eve.
My younger niece was the first of my gift recipients to open her Christmas present from me.
Out of all the things I’d stuffed into that gift box, she was most tickled to discover the return of a set of workout clothes she’d forgotten she’d left during her summer visit with me.
My sister also received one of her old bathing suits she’d lent me last Christmas. Of course, I gave more than her returned stuff.
The two tops I’d gifted her looked as if they’d fit.Then, she finally got to the one gift in the box I’d been looking forward to her seeing.
Since she has low visual acuity, she wore her powerfully magnified reading glasses and presumed she understood what the small, colorful package contained.
Her guess was a “candy ring pop.” When I whispered in her ear which adult sex toy she held in her hand, she burst out laughing, even my nieces and nephews were briefly torn away from their self-absorbed pursuit of gift-opening.
I only captured a fraction of the joy this little surprise package brought her.
Purple, the color of royalty and healing, was also the signature color of my mother’s “Red Hatters” women’s group. I wasn’t sure if she realized the reason I gifted her the shirt was because it marked the 150th anniversary of our emancipation from slavery, but at least she liked the color and it was the right size.
As she pulled out the other gift, she exclaimed, “This better not be a cookbook!” Well, sometimes you get what you don’t wish for. Yet, she sweetened to the idea of it once she realized one of her own recipes and three of mine where represented.
My younger nephew changes so much every year, I can never be sure what size he is, what his tastes are nor his newfound hobbies. Yet, I remembered his sister had looked into buying him a comic book character T-shirt, which helped me at least pick out some reading material.
My brother-in-law was the hardest to gift. He doesn’t need anything that’s within my price range; so, I made him a pride box, which represented his business and fraternity. I threw in a shaker, plastic rocks “glass,” and swag bottle opener.
I also made my father a pride box. His box had an Air Force theme since he’d served from 1960 to 1981. I threw in two Texas lottery scratch off tickets–neither one was a winner.
Continuing my mission to distribute entertaining reading material, I gifted my other niece the most anime-looking comic books I could find among some other random things I’d given her.
The potpourri of gifts I gave my other sister consisted of a bottle opener, an entrepreneur’s purse, a “Step It Up” T-shirt, and a comic book. After all, she’s an artist who enjoys a drink every now and again and wants to run her own business one day.
For my other nephew, who regularly makes excuses why he can never make his way to the library, I filled his gift box with reading material: a political magazine, an anthology of African American literary synopses, and comic book.
Three chefs in my family prepared Christmas breakfast: bacon, Dad’s famous hash browns, eggs and toast with molasses.
She couldn’t wait to eat her “stocking stuffer.” (Actually, the cone was in the stocking with a note about where to find the ice cream.)
The yearly nieces and nephews photo.
Dad with his daughters.
Here’s Dad’s attempt to take our picture with Mom’s iPad. Notice my lone dreadlock on the right.
My nephew took over the effort to capture Mom with us.
I’m so happy I was able to visit some extended family members during this trip “home.” I love this shot in particular since Mom and this cousin grew up together as friends when they had to walk to and from a segregated, single-room elementary school. Look at them now.
My nephew received his green band for successfully testing to the next level in parkour. Since he’s visiting me for a week this summer, I’m going to take a few parkour classes myself, so I can be ready for a single class with him. The way I see it, I may be half way to 90, but as long as I can go at my own pace and no one’s kicking at my head, this cannot be worse than capoeira. As a matter of fact, as a little girl who loved to climb trees and play on the monkey bars, I would’ve loved parkour as a child…if girls had been allowed.
Banana pancakes for my last breakfast while visiting with my family–what a delicious send off!
How appropriate the last painting in this series shows the twins celebrating their newly heightened enlightenment. I feel the same way since I’ve learned a tremendous amount about painting and I’m ecstatic to have completed just in the nick of time–the weather turned very windy and cold the next day after I put the last dabs of paint onto this canvas.
This scene takes place atop Mt. Bonnell, the highest point in Austin, which isn’t really all that high at 775 feet above sea level. Yet the twins return to Austin in more elevated spirits than they left for a “happily ever after for now” (HEAFN) kind of ending. I’m not actually looking to write a sequel although I’d love to use some of the main characters, minus the title fantasy characters, my beloved Infinity and Negativa.
I scarcely captured all 24 canvases in this shot. The chandelier features prominently, signaling the series is done. Now comes the next learning curve for me: researching the most cost-effective way to scan all of them for the book. Additionally, I’m going to dust off the manuscript (since it’s all electronic, I’m really being figurative here) and revise it before starting the self-publishing process.
I’m entering the new year with two part-time jobs. It’ll be exciting to see which one offers me a full-time contract first. I’ve maximized my creative time while working a part-time job in 2015. Now, I’ll need to maximize my money with a full-time job in order to bring The Adventures of Infinity & Negativa to life.
For the fifth week in a row, I completed another canvas. Not only is this the penultimate painting, but it has been the least time-consuming to prep and paint. Quite convenient, given the fact that my schedule was “off” due to a few novel activities. Normally, the best way for me to complete a project of this magnitude is to do a little every day. What great timing this canvas arose during a rather hectic week in my life when other things had to take precedent.
In this scene, the twins have worked their way “out of the box,” achieving a new plateau of understanding and redefinition. The thing about being out of the box is no box should appear. Plus, in order to show how they changed, I painted them with a glittery acrylic, which doesn’t show up as sparkly in this picture as it does in reality. I stuck with convention and kept their signature colors: purple for Infinity and red for Negativa. For a fleeting moment, I thought about switching their colors, but even when people, ahem, mathematical characters, change radically, there are echoes from their past.
There it is, the chandelier acting like the star of the show! Its appearance unofficially signals I’m near the end of this project. I’ve laid aside the manuscript, except for the opening scenes, for a few months now. As soon as the 24th painting takes its rightful place, I’m combing through the manuscript since 2016 is the year to bring this ebook to life!
I took stenciling to a whole new level when I prepped this canvas. In order to scale this properly, I quartered the picture by cropping it and zooming the sections on four different pages. Then I cut out several pieces and reconstructed the “puzzle” on the canvas, omitting things in the shot I didn’t want. Essentially, I took out most of the ornateness and left the bare minimum details to suggest a church. Even the crucifix came from a different picture.
The most challenging picture to find was two women sitting in this position. I particularly like how Negativa has her back to Christ and Infinity faces him.
I spent about 3 1/2 hours finishing up this painting on Friday just to stay on schedule and under a week. I usually don’t like spending that much time in one setting, doing any creative project with the possible exception of hand sewing.
This canvas represents the shortest scene between the sisters in the whole manuscript. Negativa tells Infinity how she’s disappointed in her. Infinity is happy about that since she doesn’t want to be a new messiah only to be crucified.
I’m closing in on the end of this painting series; so I’d like to view that encroaching chandelier as the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel–versus the impending train wreck.
Life Is About Kicking Ass, Not Kissing It. I’ve studied three styles of martial arts just so I could fulfill a childhood dream of being an Amazon, but there’s more than wishful thinking behind my pursuit to be as physically and mentally strong as I can. We women have continued to influence society and evolve.
And I Give Evolution Two Opposable Thumbs Up. The complexity of our hands is only bested by the complexity of our minds, creating things our hands cannot grasp. Yet we are evolving into a better society by pushing against ignorant restraints. In jest, I talk about “primitive feminism”: shouting, kicking and other aggressive forms of argument.
Although A Kick In The Ass Is Still A Step Forward, what a waste of formal education and higher thinking if we only respond to our changing environment with our reptilian brains. When bad things happen, we can either be its victim, its survivor or its conqueror. Rarely do we rise to such occasions without life provoking us into it. We can still advance and emerge into a much better position than we originally imagined as long as the fruits of our own labor enrich us.
So, When Someone Tells You They Got Rich Through Hard Work, Ask: “Whose?” Don’t assume that they worked their own way through anything. They could be among the privilege who merely inherited the spoils of hard work. Only those of us who’ve schemed, dreamed, hustled and bustled can truly boast about our self-made accomplishments. Rule number one to making yourself: break a rule or three!
Well Behaved Women Rarely Make History. What we admire the most in all legendary women are not the female minions who blended into society, but the ones who stirred things up and proved to us, once again, a daring woman’s action was not prevented by the laws of physics. Merely the misogynistic social and religious laws, which sought to keep her in her place. Every time a woman vanquishes a false belief or practice, we should celebrate.
So, Forget Your Troubles And Dance. When you hold your head up high, laugh at yourself and go to bed exhausted from living another passion-driven life, you sleep well and wake up rested to live up to your fullest potential all over again.
Once I put the gooey maple syrup on this tall stack of blueberry pancakes, I craved pancakes! I used stencils for everything, including the twins. Only challenge was omitting their chairs. I figure since they are mathematical characters, I could justify having them levitate in a seated position.
In this chapter, Infinity explains how cooking her self-titled “Infinity Pancakes” recipe is simply edible ratios. Negativa only cares about the end result, regardless of the underlying math governing the kitchen chemistry of ingredients.
I have proudly struggled to get all 21 of these paintings in the shot. Yet moving furniture out of the shot just to get them all in while simultaneously not getting the chandelier in the shot means lying on my back at an angle and holding my breath to minimize shaking the camera. Totally worth it as I near the end of this series.
An artist friend described painting #20 as “full and chaotic.” She also said it was her favorite of the series so far. That one review makes the enormous amount of time spent last weekend on prepping this canvas totally worth it. I was happy it had turned out so decently since I’ve invested a lot of time on other canvases only to concede due to my lack of skills. I believe this canvas demonstrates more than the previous ones how a lack of skill doesn’t mean lack of talent. I’m a talented storyteller. I still need to work on my painting skills.
In this canvas, I painted two Fibonacci sequences. The first sequence was made from fruit, animals and a palm leaves. The second sequence was in form of a spiral. Negativa subconsciously recreated this numerical pattern. Infinity picks up on it first since Negativa was so involved with gathering materials to make the spiral. Underneath both spirals was a color-coded fractal design, peeping in between the figures.
The twins aren’t in this canvas, thanks to making the stencils too big. I previously worried how I’d get the perspective correct between the layout of the floral and fauna spiral and the twins. So, without having the women, this canvas was still plenty challenging, but looks far more polished in the end. Hopefully, this will be the only painting where the twins aren’t present. According to painting #19, I’ve become quite good at painting their faces.
Now I’m down to the final four with the wall of 20 complete. I’m amazed how well I endured the cold, windy rain on a small dry-covered patch of my balcony to finish this canvas. I’ll be mostly bundling up for cold weather from here on out.
I was the plus one on a special “friends pass” to hear Margaret Atwood in the Texas State Capitol during the book festival. I’d heard other writers speak at this venue before, but always from the nosebleed section.
While rifling through her things to get notebook and pen ready, my friend dropped one of my business-card sized Austin Writers Roulette flyers out of her bag. The solution? Decorate her hat with it! If only I could make that a fashion trend. After four years, some people have actually heard of my show.
Here’s what I learned from Margaret Atwood, who is also a teacher, a common trait among us writers that must stem from always reading, writing and wanting to shed light on the uninformed:
She has participated in many writing experiments to keep herself creatively challenged.
One such writing experiment: she sealed her writing in a box, along with a number of other writers and transported the box to Norway where trees have been planted. By the end of a century, the boxes will be opened and the paper to print it on will come from the trees that were planted a century ago.
She claimed that politicians make decisions without considering long-term consequences. As a result, some laws have been reversed because they cost too much.
My favorite quote from her talk was: “Access to books and reading is one of the cornerstones of democracy.”
She wrote for “Zombie Run,” an interactive audio story where runners are encouraged speed up and slow down, according to the story. Her episode of the story took place in Toronto. The government and hockey team have been zombified.
Her sage advice to a Literature and Composition instructor of a college freshman class who were loathe to read and were mostly business and engineer majors: have them write a business plan for how zombies and vampires can accumulate wealth over time.
I guess one of the biggest take aways from hearing her interview was that I should keep my teaching license current in addition to creating my other art outside of teaching.
Up until now, I’ve always had plenty to critique about a newly completed painting. Yet, this canvas, despite whatever flaws my hypercritical eye discerns, makes me so incredibly happy I’ve continued this endeavor. Although the twins mostly look good because I used stencils, the faces are my all mine. And what faces they are! The expressions work; they look like identical twins; their hair is fabulous.
In the beginning, I’d sketched the unknown as a square in the middle of the bottom of the scene. That looked too simplistic. I knew I could step it up a notch. Give a little more motivation for the twins to make such intense eye contact with the unknown, which they’ve encountered in a jungle. They have cautiously approached to assess whether it is food, friend or foe.
Check out the display wall: like a six-year old with a missing a front tooth. The next painting will take its artful place by the close of a week. That’s a promise to both myself and this project. The chilly mornings have arrived. I now have to bundle up in order to paint. My hands must grow numb as I don’t have a pair of painter’s gloves. Actually, gloves would make my hands feel as if they were in straight jackets and I certainly don’t need any more handicaps in that department.
