Monthly Archives: May 2016

A little hiatus

Watercolor of a fox for a card. (Image: Sarah Wagner)

Watercolor of a fox for a card. (Image: Sarah Wagner)

I took a little break from the social part of the internet for a bit because I needed a bit of a refueling. Sometimes that happens. I took the time to day dream, to paint, to garden, to binge some really bad movies and some good ones, and otherwise be a useless lump of me. Sometimes I need that. Deep down, I’m really a hermit – I very much value my alone time. I know it’s weird, I’m told so often, but I do my best creating after these sorts of breaks.

As for the little fox there – I did a card for a baby shower several weeks ago. He’s a little disproportionate but he’s cute anyway! I’m trying to practice more, to get better at the more visual artsy stuff. I’m crafty but my artistic skill is lacking a bit (or a lot, depending). I figure if I keep trying for the next ten – fifteen years, maybe I’ll get good enough to draw some of the things I see in my head when I’m writing. A girl can dream anyway.

I’m working on several things (as usual) but I’m most pleased with the poetry thing. It has been a really long time for me and poetry but I enjoy it – reading it, listening to it, and creating it and I’m having fun with it. But – I’m not talking too much about it until I finish it and find it a home.  There are some very interesting things coming up over the next few weeks though – a special guest, a special event, a giveaway, and maybe an announcement or two. A very exciting time indeed.

 

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Filed under Crafts, Life, Poetry, Writing

Mother’s Day

my mom and me

My mom and me

Happy Mothers Day to all the mamas out there!

For me, today is a bit of a mixed bag. On one hand, motherhood is pretty much my favorite thing ever. Even at the worst of it, I wouldn’t trade it for all the coffee, all the money, and all the Doctors in a row. My boys aren’t my whole world but they make my whole world better. On the other hand, thinking of moms makes me miss my mom. A lot. She never got to meet my boys or impart her motherly wisdom or even just commiserate with me over teething, tantrums, or angsty teenagers. She never got to see me succeed at pretty much anything. She never got to know how awesome these two boys of mine are.

I do have older women in my life who I should probably consider to be maternal influences but I don’t. I can’t. It’s not the same. I haven’t called anyone mom since she died – not even a slip with a favorite teacher as happened in my very young years. My mom and I didn’t have a conventional mother/daughter relationship which was probably to our benefit as we got to be bffs too for a few years before she died. Most daughters don’t get to do that until they’re mothers themselves so, I should count myself lucky to have had that experience at all. I’m honestly glad we didn’t have the stress-filled, argumentative relationship so many teenage girls have with their mothers. We parted on good terms, even if it broke my heart. I was sixteen so, for me, there was no chance at all that someone could step in and try to fill that particular hole in my life. I don’t want it filled. It isn’t empty.

Me and my boys

Me and my boys (several years ago)

As far as my own kids go – they’re a lot of fun. Both of them are bright, funny, and talented. They’re even really well behaved (if occasionally full of teenagery attitude). I really lucked out in that department – I love my kids but even better, I really like them too. I know someday they’ll grow up, find spouses to settle down with, and discover the joy of parenting. I hope I can be around to see it. I always knew I was supposed to be a mom and I think it suits me pretty well.

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Filed under Life, Memories, Parenting

Being Safely Scared

The horror genre is on my mind lately. In part, I’m on a serious re-watching binge (the inspiration being meeting Tony Todd and writing about Candyman for The Geek Girl Project) and in part probably because we’re reaching the part of the year where I can’t watch scary things for three months because the children will be home with me. The youngest isn’t old enough and the oldest is never sure what to make of actually scary things. Being scared is something of an acquired taste and I think being safely scared is a rush without the crash, like eating cake and not wanting to take a nap afterward (yep – I’m officially old now) is one of my favorite things.

I do enjoy being scared as long as it’s the right kind of scared. I don’t like being afraid. Bone deep, marrow chilled, how do we survive kind of fear is terrible and I don’t know anyone who likes that kind of fear. Millions live that life every day and no one should envy that fear. I’ve been that kind of afraid and I would not recommend it. I do think that knowing that kind of fear makes being safely scared even better. There’s that moment where it feels similar (never the same), the adrenaline is rushing through the blood, the heart is pounding so loud it’s like a drum in your head, and every hair is standing at attention. And then you remember that you are safe in a movie theater or living room and the fear abates without leaving it’s print on you. I think that’s why so many people like me enjoy these sorts of things – being scared without actually being in danger is an awesome thing.

I have had a movie cause panic attacks but never the scary ones, which are the ones you would think would do it. I’ve had certain thriller type movies make me uncomfortable (Maniac for instance), or completely grossed out (like the Saw movies), or disgusted (Devil’s Rejects etc), but not panicky which is nice for me. Honestly, I’m more likely to have a panic attack during Harry Potter of all things – I do not know why the Mad Eye Moody/Barty Crouch thing bothers me so much.

It doesn’t take much to startle me or make me feel uncomfortable but to actually scare me, at least as an adult, that takes some doing. I really love it. I hear Candyman’s voice in my head, the Hell Priest still lurks in the shadows of my laundry room when the light hits the one corner just so. I have a weird and overactive imagination and that doesn’t help. I tend to scare myself more than anything. One night a few years ago I stepped outside and the smell of freshly turned earth hit me and all I could think of were zombies. The fact that we’d been working outside that day planting and such completely vanished from my brain, logic took a backseat and my brain was absolutely certain it was zombies. And this is why I write – if I didn’t, I could probably convince myself that zombies are real but if I put all my weird on paper, it’s easier not to do that.

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Filed under Books, Movies, Weird