Dang, May and June were busy. On the plus side, things are pretty awesome, even if they've taken a weird turn.
1) The professional version of our college show was extremely well received. I had a blast working in a space outside of our usual theater.
2) My first week of summer algebra classes actually went well. Right now we're going over the material we should already know, and I know 80% of it, so I have no idea why I kept failing so hard at math. I really hope I don't end up running into something crazy next week.
3) Captain America showed up in my headspace. Not a god/ancestor who meshes with Cap's general personality, it's literally Steve Rogers the American superhero. Generally he's here because a) I've been writing a superhero play that fucking destroys the stereotypes and failings of the genre, b) he's horrified that Donald Trump is basically a second Hitler, and c) he called me a superhero. Which is giving me a damn huge resurgence of "I AM THIRTEEN YEARS OLD AND I THINK SUPERHEROES ARE AWESOME," but Brighid is upset because she wants me to stay home, be safe, and write awesome stories like I usually do.
2. People loved our show, and now a professional theater company is going to produce it over the summer. We're definitely going to get paid at least a stipend since it's going to be a full run of rehearsals/performances (about a month), as opposed to the weekend we got from the other company's production a while back.
3. I'm going to take some math classes at another campus within the district, because my sister and my best friend got fucking blown away at how hard math is for me. They recommended the college in my town for math.
4. My best friend and her boyfriend are getting married, and me and my sister are both going to be her maids of honor. YESSSSSSS.
5. The concept for Takotsubo is starting to gain speed, to my surprise. I got two requests from people who loved the design I came up with to start posting the script on HitRecord, so I'll do that after my college group reads the play. General notes from my Berkeley playwriting group are: A) The script reads like a comic book--which is good for intense imagery, but tricky for theater where you need time to change the set, costumes, and to process the show as an audience. B) The writing and several repeated lines were described as poetic and very helpful, for which I thank the gods--I thought I was overdoing it a little. So right now I'm just shuffling things around, removing characters who don't need to show up right in the prologue, and slowing things down a little.
6. In this month's drum-circle, my ancestor Wes showed up again. He's the one I started writing Takotsubo for, and last month he basically told me to keep writing. No matter how tedious and emotionally difficult it is. In this month's circle, Wes gave me the ridiculously clear statement of "Little sister, you're a witch. Own that shit."
Given all the shit I went through being thought of as crazy, weird, and illogical by OTHER PAGANS from the Cauldron, and the more subtle things like my extremely Catholic mother telling me stories about how her family liked to make fun of the backwards pagan tribes of the Philippines (while not knowing that I'm pagan myself and desperately looking for indigenous Filipino beliefs), that was not a welcome statement. I don't even like when people make fun of me for being a spacey artist, or for flailing around not knowing what the fuck is happening, so it's probably ten times worse if people in REAL LIFE call me weird or insane.
But really, what else can you do when one of your spirit-brothers says that? I'm well past the "flailing around, not knowing what's happening" stage, so okay. As long as I'm not homeless and starving, I can do art, and I'm at least mostly sane, I will deal with being considered a witch. Elaborations on #6 are going to be posted in the_bears_wife.
Also, I got the little statue of Ganesh from my friend a few days ago and I put some sweetgrass oil on it.
Ganesh is amused that I need to consciously remind myself not to hate math so much. My niece and sister were talking about it when we had breakfast yesterday, and this morning I wanted to do some math homework, but I scared myself out of it and he went "You asked me for help and now you're getting jumpy about it? Oh, humans. :D" And I'm like, "the homework is fine, but the test is why I was stuck for a semester on it!" So he just laughed again and told me not to worry.
Lastly, I am now the drummer for my college's play. It's got tons of Aztec/indigenous themes and it's about the banning of Ethnic Studies in Arizona's high schools, so it's totally boss.
The only real downside to this month is that I forgot about the play-reading in Berkeley because it was a few days away from Valentine's, so my Facebook must have got clogged with Valentine's stuff and I missed the reminder. Oh well, there's always next month.
Also, I reallyreallyreallyreally want to see the Deadpool movie because stuffy people are butthurt about its violence and gore. THOSE ARE THE BEST REASONS TO SEE DEADPOOL, MAN.
Then Mom called me at six thirty today because she was having chest pains and she couldn't sleep because of it, so me and my niece should wait at home in case the hospital calls us.
And I'm just thinking, "Mom, this is EXACTLY why they had you stay in the hospital for a few more days. So they could check up on you."
I don't know, did she think she'd instantly go back to normal after heart failure? Again, this is why the hospital had her stay in for a few days, in case things like this happen. Plus she has a pattern of fretting about me staying out late for things like seeing a play with my friends and forgetting to remind her when I might be back, despite me being TWENTY-FIVE. While I was out for Dogeaters, I said I'd be home at nine. Then I remembered the play was two and a half hours, so I'd probably get home at about 11 or 12, and I told my neice about the new time getting back home, but I forgot to text Mom. If she worries about her adult daughter staying out late, chest pains that keep her from sleeping are probably even MORE of an issue.
My niece said that she called at about 9:20 wondering if I was home yet. (I was not, because the play was about half-over by then).
My morning meditation was only the five or ten minutes before I got dressed, and the Irish gods had a host of reactions to Mom's unnecessary worry. Mostly that I shouldn't be too worried about Mom's call since she has a pattern of overreacting.
And yes, I'm a mix of annoyed and concerned, but I'm really surprised that Macha of the Irish gods is so mad. She went, "I AM MAD BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT LETTING YOURSELF BE. DO NOT FEEL GUILTY ABOUT BEING ANNOYED, BECAUSE YOUR MOTHER IS OLD AND TRADITIONAL AND FRETFUL. THIS IS WHY SHE'S IN THE HOSPITAL, BECAUSE TRAINED PEOPLE WON'T CATCH ANY PANIC FROM HER WHEN SHE WORRIES ABOUT CHEST PAIN. SHE'S FINE. THIS WILL PASS."
And when I finished the meditation, she was just fuming around and leaving angry vibes.
So yeah, I left an email for my creative writing teacher that I had a family emergency and now I'm just waiting.
On one hand, I hope nothing happens, but I just really wish this didn't happen ALL THE FUCKING TIME. Mom worries, and then she ropes me into doing tons of stuff "just in case it's serious," and then it turns out things are fine and she did all that for nothing.
EDIT: Yep, it was just high blood pressure that was causing her chest pain. Not good after heart troubles, especially since it's not coming down, but UGH.
-I'm temporarily disqualified from financial aid, and now I have to sort all this shit out. AGAIN. Why the fuck is college bureaucracy so infuriating? But luckily, all I have to do is complete and turn in a form.
-Mom got admitted to the hospital because she was seriously weak and shaky this morning. Doctors say she might have one of two extremely different problems: 1) Heart troubles, or 2) an infected wound on her hand, that she got from catching her hand in a door while she was in the Philippines last month. And now I, the only Asian member of my theater group, might have to miss seeing a Filipino play called Dogeaters in San Francisco.
It's not just that I'm upset about my plans getting fucked--we're working with the theater who's producing it, and I've been to the first reading of it and a tech rehearsal, and this play hits SO MANY DAMN THINGS about my life and various Filipino issues. AND THEN the writer isn't Filipino (she's white), but she worked with a crapton of them over the many times that Dogeaters has been produced, which is why it's so awesome.
It's very unlikely that I can buy a ticket for some other time during its run because I'm fucking broke, because RE: temporarily disqualified from Financial Aid. Plus my group was all planning to go at once and everyone knows I'm fucking ecstatic about this. I definitely can't go if I have to look after Mom tomorrow, but I'm also not sure if I could go even if Mom was relatively fine. Because I'm just really fucking jittery right now.
The irony of the only Filipino-American in a college theater group potentially missing a HUGE Filipino-centered play because of a family member's health issues, which may be from said family member's RECENT TRIP TO THE PHILIPPINES, is NOT. FUCKING. COOL.
The gods/ancestors are assuring me that this will all sort out soon.
I'll meditate with them later, or whenever I'm not so jittery.
-I got my Asian gangster superhero play read at a playwriting meetup in Berkeley, and people think the concept is awesome. Also, basically EVERYONE says that "flipping the Asian Gangster stereotype into an Asian Gangster Superhero is so cool!" I did run into one person online who completely missed the point and went "Why does it have to be about race? If I saw your concept as it was written right now, I'd just throw it on the reject pile."
Obviously, that's a sign that I should keep writing it. I'm not really surprised that a white guy has no clue why this concept is important. I live in the Bay Area and my friends are artists, so we're a lot more openminded than many parts of the USA.
-I finished my Mad Max inspired gloves and I really like wearing them.
-I had my friend do a ritual to Ganesh last week to help me get my degree faster, and she's shipping a little Ganesh statuette over.
I watched the new Star Wars movie and it's fantastic, plus I finally finished the necklace that Persephone told me to make about half a year ago. For winter break, I'm basically finishing every half-done craft-project that I've forgotten about, every not-yet-a-project that I planned but never managed to actually start, or everything that I just plain procrastinated on.
You'd think I'd get up to more things since my mom's been in the Philippines for the past couple of weeks, but I mostly just balanced out my post-semester sleep-deprivation. It's finally been raining in California!
Oh yeah, and I'm writing an Asian-American superhero script. I made a banner-like thing with the awesome art from Hitrecord's website, and I'm really excited at having the first ten-ish pages test-read by actual people in a couple of weeks.
Pics behind the cut for big size!
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Upcoming projects: Mad-Max inspired fingerless gloves (recently planned this) and a steampunk pocket-belt (which I've been procrastinating on).
So I've been meaning to do an outfit from Mad Max: Fury Road, but I didn’t get to make or wear it today because Mom wasn’t feeling well, so I decided to cancel my planned breakfast with my sister and drop off her stuff so I could keep an eye on Mom before class.
And I’m driving along and halfway to Berkeley, there’s a fucking VULTURE just randomly chilling in the street. Quick fact: Vultures are HUGE. Like, you see them on TV and stuff and intellectually you know they’re “big,” but the bro’s/sister’s head was nearly up to my car’s window.
So it’s a red light, and the vulture’s in the empty lane nearby without a hint of roadkill or anything that would explain why it’s there, so me plus a couple other drivers are just lightweight freaking out at the giant death-bird because IT’S HALLOWEEN HOLY SHIT IS THIS A SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE OR NOT. A guy tries to shoo the vulture to somewhere where it won’t ironically get hit by a car, but it clearly doesn’t bother with him, and it just wanders around a bit and then walks over to the sidewalk. Like “Girrrrrrl, I ain’t flying ten fucking feet.“
And then I get home and start looking up vulture symbolism/medicine because I have never seen a vulture in real life, especially not two feet away from me, and it’s HALLOWEEN which is also the Celtic new year because I’m pagan, and I’m like “SHIT IS SOMEONE GONNA DIE SOON?! OH MY GOD.”
It turns out vultures are actually very good signs of death, renewal, and change, and once it shows up in your life, it becomes one of your guides/totems for life. And apparently it’s associated with grace and dignity, but ironically enough, my own totem is the albatross--the dorky giant cousin of the seagull, who is often white. However: Both of them are very efficient flyers, and they can stay up in the air for hours.
Still freaking out about the whole “eats dead things“ deal, though.
Also, my sister was dealing with some bad emotions a few weeks back. Typically, my attempts to help her blew up because it wasn't the way SHE wanted me to help.
But things have cooled down and she got a much better job than her previous one. On my side, now I'm trying to figure out what the hell's up with my math class. I don't think I've gotten any emails from the professor yet about where we're meeting and when we'll officially start.
Also, I had a drum circle on Sunday and like many things in my spiritual life, it was strange. Going to elaborate on that in the_bears_wife.
My niece's dog is acting weird--she's been sleeping in the spot behind the couch that Harley does sometimes, so we figure she's wondering where Harley is.
Cuchulainn is very upset personally about Harley, seeing as his offerings were mostly the little bits of people-food I gave her (which were probably making her fat). Hound of Culann, after all.
And Harley showed up in my meditation last night. (She's been showing up since the night we put her to sleep, but I had the ancestors take her out.) She can see again, walk again, and she's not overweight. I managed to pet her for a few minutes before Stabbing Grief Pains took over. Also, she has her really bright stripey collar on--I was relieved to see she's still got it on, because right now the physical collar is still lying in her empty bed.
I am not surprised at all that Cuchulainn picked her up and went "JFKDSLANJKNDJABGA WHO'S A GOOD DOG?!" and he took her out to play for like, three hours.
As usual, the gods and ancestors are telling me obvious things like how I don't have to accept that she's in the Otherworld right away, and it's only been two days since she died, so of course I can't immediately spend all my meditations with her.
I updated my fanfiction and I'm working on the newest chapter of Moonflowers.
Thanks to watching Mad Max: Fury Road and being blown away by the awesome action and female characters, I decided to rewrite Moonflower's new chapter to include a car chase.
Right now I'm in my "work as much as possible to take my mind off of Harley" mode. It'll probably be a few weeks before I get out of it.
Thanks to me putting all the dog's stuff in place like a crazy person, I keep seeing the empty dog bed in the living room, noticing her collar on it, and I nearly call the dog over to put her collar on.
I'm also wondering why she hasn't come up and claimed my shoes as a pillow yet. She likes sleeping by the couches, especially if someone is on them. We'd give her ear scratches or start playing with her so she doesn't sleep the WHOLE day.
I stepped into the room to grab my phone, saw a shadow by the doorway that I thought was the dog, and I almost went "dog, out of the way." Then I turned the light on and it's just the shadow from one of my bags hanging on the dresser's hooks.
I don't want to sleep in my room. She sleeps next to my bed instead of in her own sometimes, or maybe under my niece's bed (she stays on weekends). And she snores, so I'm going to wonder why I don't hear her snoring and check the living room to see if she went to her bed there. When I wake up tomorrow, I'm going to check if she's next to the bed so I don't step on her. Either she waits outside the bathroom while people are washing up, or she waits by the kitchen near her bowl for breakfast.
But I don't want to move her stuff yet, because she's already not here and it's just going to feel more empty without everything in place.
Stupid routine. Stupid dog-related parts of the routine.
EDIT: So I clicked my "dogs" tag for whatever sadistic reason my subconscious has, and I saw the FIRST FUCKING POSTS I EVER MADE ABOUT MY DOG. How the fuck does this happen?
Also, I just realized that I've gotten into the habit of calling Harley "the dog." This isn't just an online thing. It's because the family already knows we have a dog, so we don't need to call her by name unless we're actually talking to her, or it's some sort of legal document or something.