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I havent had time for much - hardly any computer time lately.

I've been doing alot of art ...more hats, more bracelets (I will spare you from tons of pics right now) and hand colored photography - I love the results.

I know I need to do a serious update and check in on my LJ friends... I have no idea what they are doing....

I'm so sorry

Mood: chipperchipper

Well, I can't exactly say there is a cold snap in the air but there have been a few cool-ish nights. The cool-ish breezes got me thinking about yarn; something I haven't wanted to touch all summer.

There were two things I've been wanting to make for a while... a fruit hat and a cup cake hat. I picked apple for the fruit and chocolate with vanilla frosting for the cup cake.

I just love them...

I have a paid account with photobucket and they have deleted many of my images. All of my art images. Until I can figure out where to host the photos most of the art is gone

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Mood: shockedshocked

I've been working hard on making bracelets lately - and that is about it! Been trying to keep my mind off things that are bothering me and working on the bracelets has been very calming.

Thought I would post a few

Someone suggested black and white for colors and I love how it came out!

I decided to try working with smaller beads for a bracelet with a smaller 'foot print' - this one is light coral and light green with a golden bracelet

Much bolder than the last one - Olive, brown, teal and big white beads ...oh and some little red beads on a golden bracelet...

LOTS of colors - multi colored round beads of the same type but all differnt colors!

My love of all things beach-like. Aquas, pearls..abalone on a golden bracelet. It was suggested that it won't be summer anymore soon and I should start doing 'fall' colors but I can't seem to help myself. I think i will always be in Hawaii and happy if I wear this one.

Like the last one but much fuller! and on a silver bracelet.

I will sell these so if you are interested please email me. Prices generally are from $40 to $60... Some of these aren't available having been snapped up by relatives and assorted friends .

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She's disturbing to me. And reminds me of this experiment I saw done once - the one that shows how woman have a lower center of gravity than men and can bend lower without falling over.

I still think there is a limit how much you can bend before you fall. Or break.

(c) 2006 belongs to the owner and creator and may not be reproduced without written permission of the copyright holder. TR

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Bipolar disorder is an interesting diagnosis. According to dictionary.com, bipolar means:

bi·po·lar ( P ) Pronunciation Key (b-plr)
Relating to or having two poles or charges.
Relating to a device capable of using two polarizations, such as a transistor that uses positive and negative charge carriers.
Relating to or involving both of the earth's polar regions.
Having two opposite or contradictory ideas or natures: the bipolar world of the postwar period.
Biology. Having two poles or opposite extremities: a bipolar neuron.
Psychology. Relating to a major affective disorder that is characterized by episodes of mania and depression.

I like the forth one best even though it is not the psychology definition. The use of the word contradictory resonates with me as does the word postwar. Interesting. It is a war, you know. Every day there is a battle between where the two poles will intersect.

(c) 2006 belongs to the owner and creator and may not be reproduced without written permission of the copyright holder. TR

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Some days are so bad ....


they suck the air right out of me.

(c) 2006 No reproduction without the written permission of the owner of the copyright

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Current Location: bed
Mood: anxiousanxious

Close-up of a tree.

Well, the heart of the tree to be specific...open and vulnerable to everything.

For some reason the tree split and is gaping; the heart exposed. I can't decide if this is an ugly or beautiful image...

The tree is outside of my therapist's office. Poetic justice it seems...

(c) 2006 may not be reproduced without written permission from the copyright holder TR

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Mood: contemplativecontemplative

An hour ago the crush of humanity set my teeth on edge. Ten minutes ago, international diplomacy as a career made perfect sense. A week ago I was sure shopping would cure me. I did not need mental health in a bottle ; I needed a purse. Not just any purse but an outrageously expensive frivolous thing that was too small--or too big-- in a color that went with nothing. Last week managing my mood did not include the latest pharmaceutical wonder but a teeny purple paisley purse with a long lime green strap and a zebra print cell phone holder.

These thoughts make no sense. Now. However, at the time the images were coming too furious to edit them for something as mundane as sense. As each thought ended, another tripped over it to get out. One part of me knew the mood stabilizers helped, another part was sure the road to sanity was paved with handbags. Double-blind testing may have proven drugs work but all I could think was: Have they ever done a double-blind study on the positive effects of teeny purple paisley purses with long lime green straps and zebra print cell phone holders?

These thoughts make exquisite sense when I have them. The jumble of conflicting ideas feel right. New ways to see the world flow from a great bipolar black hole somewhere inside. When people ask where they come from I tell them it’s a lot like the Big Bang theory. They just come …and keep coming. I figure if people are ready to accept that the universe sprang from nothing, than my effervescing thoughts should be easy to swallow.

Even as I use the Big Bang as a model I worry that it might be a little too close for comfort. Some models of the Big Bang do not have the universe expanding infinitely. Some have it reaching maximum expansion and than collapsing on itself. Are there is a maximum number of thoughts a brain can churn out at one time? As limitless as my thoughts feel I wonder if I am going to reach the point of maximum expansion and than implode.

One of the original Star Trek episodes illustrated this point. Harry Mudd and his beautiful female androids capture the away-team. Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock devise an escape plan; they will feed Harry Mudd’s beauties so many illogical thoughts that they melt down.

First, the androids got a quizzical look, than they tried to make sense of the thoughts coming at them. The next thing you saw was smoke coming out of their necks and in the end their heads lay in an unnatural angle on a shoulder; blank, eyes open.

Will that happen to me one day? To the international diplomat? After the thought of buying a teeny purple paisley purse with a long lime green strap and a zebra print cell phone holder. While writing a bipolar cookbook in my mind and cleaning my bathroom… and doing the laundry. All the while wondering if there really is a difference between detergents which I need to buy at the grocery store…and oh yeah…cheese too…but not regular American- the 2% American…and is that really low-fat or does it just seem low-fat because…well… labels are just so misleading…..And, oh yeah…so is advertising for that matter-so it’s a good thing that I can be an international diplomat because I am sure that as an international diplomat I can do something about deceptive advertising-Oh!-Was the dryer buzzer?….cause-if-it-was-the dryer-buzzer-I-don’t-want-the-clothes-to-wrinkle- and-Ohdarn-Ishouldhaveboughtthatsprayforwrinkles-andohyeah-macaroniandcheese-Ineedtoaddmacandcheesetothebipolarcookbook-andohno- Ihaveameetingwithmyson’steacher-and-howwillIevergetthroughthat-andstillseemnormaland….



That’s exactly how it started on Star Trek. Which thought will be the one that gives me a quizzical look? The purse? The new career in diplomacy? Will the last straw be a thought about 2% cheese? Will puffs of smoke come out my neck after I have the bipolar cookbook half written in my head? Will the last thing I think about be fabric softener? Will it be the zebra print cell phone holder that leaves my head resting sideways on one shoulder and my open eyes staring blankly into the bipolar black hole?

Captain Kirk would be so proud.

© February 2005 All material is the sole property of the author and my not be reproduced without written permission.

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Current Location: Bed
Mood: amusedamused
What can I hear now?: The sound of Divorce court on TV

When I'm buying beads I seem to come home with lots of blues and greens and I always wonder if everyone will be as in love with them as I am? I know of course the answer has to be ...No. But I can't seem to help myself - the calming colors grab me...

Gosh, I love this one. Blues and aquas...greens and paua (abalone) shell... When I was little we lived in the tropics for two years - when your in the middle of the Pacific Ocean the nearest state is Hawaii so that is where our family vacationed.

Nothing bad ever happened in Hawaii.

I never went back - well, after I was 11... and probably never will but it's as clear a memory as any I have. The water, the palms, the breeze and the pineapple pancakes with coconut syrup. Sometimes I google webcams from Hawaii just so I can see it happening live again. This bracelet brings me back, too.

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Current Location: In my bed
What can I hear now?: Highway traffic

I started buying india beads because they are cheap. That is what they are called, India beads...I believe they are called that because they come from...well...India.

Anyway - they are very interesting. They come in fairly large lots. Pounds, sometimes. Maybe just 36 " inch strands but always a good number of them for a very reasonable price.

Truly, there is something to be said for beautiful handmade lampwork beads. Especially many beautiful handmade lampwork beads held together with more beautiful beads and precious metals... but they would be beautiful on their own..sitting alone in a box or on a table.

The thing about India Beads is that they are all different - you rarely get two identical beads in a batch... all are imperfect, some are dirty and frequently some are broken. But I like them - they still sparkle under the dirt. They still wear beautiful colors. Together in a bracelet they just shine as though they thought they were the most precious gems on Earth and every once in a while you find one that makes you suck your breath in with wonder...

You can find a true jewel in a thousand broken shards of glass.

These flawed and broken baubles are a lot like people.

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Mood: thoughtfulthoughtful

Elvis had something with these colors. Maybe it was just the 50's that brought in pink and black - not Elvis? Now I am not sure but I really do love this bracelet.

There is something about the retro colors of the 50's that make me feel safe. Light aqua kidney shaped coffee tables, Powder blue tiled bathrooms, my own mother's pink oven....

It must have been a time when everything was 'right' - it has to be, all the TV shows said so.

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I am afraid people misconstrue the whole mania thing. I googled the words mania together with genius. I got 266,000 hits. 79,000 for mania and creativity. I only got 23 hits for the words genius and chronic sinus infection. I see a pattern here.

Why is it that being bipolar is associated with creative genius? There are lists of all the tortured creative types with bipolar disorder (those with documented bipolar and those that are just inferred to have had it based on their lives, being dead and all). What is it about the disorder that intrigues folks so? 266,000 is a lot of hits. I think it comes down to mania. More so, a misunderstanding of mania

I met a man with narcolepsy. A hugely misunderstood disease. Many people think narcoleptics are just sleepier than most. That is not even an understatement.

The fact is, narcoleptics sometimes can not control wakefulness and they are not falling asleep like you and I. They are going from wake to dreaming in the - you will excuse the pun - blink of an eye. Unfotunately it can happen when they are standing up and talking. Some do it when they are at work, some when they are laying around watching the tube, and the truth is, some do it during any period of high emotion as well ( Think huge argument with a spouse. Think traumatic event. Think during a hearty laugh or good cry. Think sex).

The man I met was quite severe. He told me that every year on Thanksgiving, he fell asleep in his plate of turkey. I asked what his family would do. He said they would continue to eat; he’d wake up eventually. My mistake was making a joke about that while he was standing. I saw his eye start to sag, than his lip, and than his shoulder. The next thing I knew I was bolting across the room to catch him before he fell.

Narcolepsy is a serious medical issue for many. One that is life long, but for most, can be managed with drugs. I have heard a few people with insomnia go on and on about how, “If I could’ve just had narcolepsy, instead”. I didn’t tell them about the Thanksgiving guy because generally people are more interested in their own beliefs, than in facts. I knew that they were only seeing a tiny part of narcolepsy, the part that appealed to them.

I think the same is true for bipolar disorder. People see about it what intrigues them. There are many lists available of famous people with bipolar disorder. Some people will read the accomplishments and think, “if only“. Haven’t they noticed the number of suicides and broken lives among those geniuses? Would they be so willing to take the bipolar-glitz if they had to take the bipolar-shmutz as well?

Some people would, I fear. There are many ways to get from point A to point B. You can walk. You can take a bus. You can ride a bike. Uncontrolled mania is a lot like getting from point A to point B by riding a bullet. To some people riding a bullet sounds easier, faster, and more fun than taking a bus. It certainly sounds more exciting--and dangerous. Truth is, I know quite a lot of bipolar folks who would pick riding the bullet too, even though they know better. Mania may be as uncontrollable as riding a bullet, but it’s very seductive.

I do appreciate the ease with which I can do some things that I might otherwise find difficult (The glitz). I’m sure my narcoleptic friend doesn’t even understand the concept of insomnia and is probably grateful for it. Over the years I have also come to accept the schmutz because acceptance is about moving ahead with your life. Obviously my narcoleptic friend and his family are at peace with his diagnosis, as well --Face full of turkey and mashed ‘taters every year, and all.

Does being at peace with your diagnosis mean you relish everything about it? No. Should you feel guilty if you enjoy any 'perks'? No. Would I trade it all to not be bipolar? Hard question. It is so much enmeshed in what I am now, I would miss it. Would my narcoleptic friend give it away? It’s a hard call. I don’t know. In either of our cases, it’s a moot point. We are what we are and the most we can do is grab it all and move on.

(c) 2006 this may not be reproduced whole or in parts without written permission from the author. TR

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Mood: curiouscurious
What can I hear now?: Listening to Judge Judy yell at stupid people

I don't know why I love shells so much. Maybe it hits the same chord for me as the green/blue/ocean thing... childhood memories all wrapped up in what I remember not always what really happened. Maybe its just how beautiful they are.

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Finally got a really good picture of one of the shell bracelets. I really like these very much...

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What can I hear now?: Commercials, commercials commericals...sheeesh. Never-ending

Recently I have been working on how to attach vintage buttons to bracelets, cheaply. Using my own handmade sterling silver 16 guage jump rings was rediculously expensive and I'm not convinced they would hold up without solder anyway...

Well. My experiments have been a rousing failure. With the buttons anyway. I have figured out how to make those bracelets with all the beads on them! I love those very much. I love the way they look and I love the way they sound on your wrist...

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What can I hear now?: Old Sandra Dee movie on TCM

(c) 2006 no reproduction without written permission of copyright holder

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Mood: depresseddepressed

I remember when star wars first came out. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen and the strong line between good and evil was so simple. So clean. So powerful.

After 'Luke, I am your father' every thing wasn't so clean and simple anymore... but I digress...

The trash compactor scene is a metaphor for life. Remember when Luke, Han, Chewy and Princess Leah jumped down that door-thing and landed in a garbage room? And that seemed like the worst possible outcome? Than there was some awful garbage-monster-snake thing and that seemed like the worst thing? Until the walls started closing in?

I try to remember when the garbage monster is after me it could always be worse.

(c) 2006 belongs to the owner and creator and may not be reproduced without written permission of the copyright holder. TR

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I understand why an animal will chew off a leg if it's caught in a trap.

stitches series - mixed media

(c) 2006 belongs to the owner and creator and may not be reproduced without written permission of the copyright holder. TR

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I’ll be the first one to admit there is power in words. I love them. I play with them. I twist them and torture them for my own nefarious uses. But enough is enough. Sometimes, I listen to the news and realize there is a politically correct frenzy afoot; there is not a word you can’t add " hypen American" to.

I swear, some people are so sensitive it makes me want to toss a lunch monkey. Please. I am not a fool. I understand that some things are better now. There are some labels that are better served with a spoon full of sensitivity . But c’mon. We are all adults. Everything everyone says isn’t meant to cut you to the bone. Add on the fact that sometimes people are just too stupid to understand the depth and breadth and meanings of words and you have --Well, basically you have a parrot with a debit card wearing underpants.

Have people ever called me crazy? I'm QUITE sure someone has. Does that mean I want to be called a Crazy-American? Of course I don’t. I’d have to be crazy to want to be called that. And that is my point.

The label thing. The fear is that what the labelers are saying is fact. It isn’t a fear that lives at our surface but somewhere deep inside the middle-school area of the brain. The place where we all have to dress alike. Feel alike. Think the same things. Have the same kind of families. The same kind of glasses. And shoes. And grades. The place we have to fit in. Or die.

This is when the middle-school area of the brain, I like to call it the Elementaryeducata, kicks in and screams “Hang on a minute! Not so fast there, Buckwheat!” about anything in your life that makes you feel different or uncomfortable. It sends out stress hormones, much like the primal brain sends out stress hormones for snakes and sharks. You may never have seen either before but the first time you do, your brain screams, “RUN LIKE A SON-OF-A-BITCH” not…”oh cute, go pet that thing”

I think we need to remember that what people say only has the power we give it. You are now saying easier said than done, aren't you? But consider this. How bad would Fred feel at work if someone stood up in the office, pointed at Fred and yelled, “Ewwww! Everybody look at Fred! He has a big booger hanging out of his nose! “

Now, instead, consider the same guy yelled “Ewww, everybody! Look at Fred. His face is sprouting lime green shag carpeting and daisys are growing from it .” This would not nearly be as troubling because, of course, this is ridiculous. Fred would most likely shake his head and go back to work, and so would everyone else. On the other hand, back to the first example, it’s entirely possible to Fred that he might just have had that hanger. Sending him running to the nearest men’s room to have a peek.

My point is you need to come to grips with how you see yourself. How you see you is what effects how you hear what people say. If you know yourself, you’ll know if you have a booger hanging out. More importantly, you will know if you don’t.

Self-knowledge allows you to just chalk up the offensive labeler as an asshole. Or should I say, Asshole-American?

Mood: amusedamused
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