I saw a promotional image for a new collection of shorts released in conjunction with Earth Day from Handmade Puppet Dreams and I saw a very familiar red bird in the corner.
It turns out that the puppet short I worked on by the New Puppet Order – the “live action cartoon” Nature Calls was selected! And it is FREE (at least in the US) on The Roku Channel. Nature Calls starts at the 55 minute mark but the rest of the collection is wonderful too.
It’s about two folks who go hiking, and one is obsessed with her phone. She drops and the creatures of the forest get their hands on it before Mother Nature steps in.
I’m going to put the link here because I am so excited and come back later to post more.
Everyone in it was already an industry pro at the time (except me) and only served to become more prolific. Spencer Murill, Raymond Carr, Sam Carter, Thom Stanley, Beau Brown… so many others (I’ll have to look at the crew list again.)
I’m listed as Production Assistant (Which I did do) but I also got my hands on puppets! Link Below!
Well. The last couple weeks have certainly been an adventure.
Good news: we will not lose or home or have to move. Employment has been secured.
Bad news: most things. But we persist! As do the horrors.
My mood as been up and down lately. I feel as though I am a bit at my stress limits. Physical therapy has started up again and I immediately injured my rotator cuff. On my dominant hand. So no bass guitar, piano, lifting, building, puppeteering, drawing for a long time…
The country I live in is getting quite fashy.
My birthday was last week, and it started off with difficulty. The thing about trauma and grief of certain flavors is that it rears its head when it is not welcome. I had been excited for my choice of activities: I took the day off work and Roy and I were going to the aquarium in the nearest city and then a bookstore. In general, all I ever want is to go to a bookstore on my birthday.
I started off feeling good, then it hit me like an avalanche. My grief and survivor’s guilt. You would think after almost 12 years this would not be the case anymore. But there I was, thinking about how Ry would never have another birthday and how I blamed myself for it. I’m sure that my freelance contract as a graphics and media person for a domestic violence survivor’s center started out as a way for me to do good. It started out as a way for me to say “hey, I survived, too.” Now I feel some days when I go to do my assignment, with every memorial or statistic I write up or share, I catch my breath. One statistic… I think “I am one of those numbers.” Another statistic… “I COULD have been one of those numbers.”
But this is about continuing on and living deliciously.
So Ry… I thought of him. I feel incredible guilt as I was not home the one night that the perpetrator of the crime decided to finally act. I was spared. After so long, is it still self indulgent? I try so hard to be celebratory about still being here. Being thankful. Being alive. But sometimes… it hits hard.
So the day started off painfully. Roy handled it well and managed to talk me into the car. We put on music and I started to feel better. The aquarium was delightful. Apparently I have a superpower for spotting hidden octopus (which is one of my favorite animals.) I stood and watched for so long, I started to feel better. Think about the wonder of the world. All the strange things in the universe. Several people went by and said “Oh! I wouldn’t have even seen it there if you weren’t standing there and looking at it.”
By far the coolest guy in the whole building. His name is Fitz.
Many of the animals at the aquarium were not releasable into the wild. They were injured or had special care needs. But they were able to be stewarded and live their best lives while being loved. There was a lot about conservation and different programs.
I felt a lot better after.
It made me remember how wild and wonderful the world is – and the universe. I still search for my spark, but it gets ever closer.
We also attended a candlelight string quartet of the Music of Hanz Zimmer. It was delightful. (They encouraged photos during the last song, so I took one as the set up was beautiful.)
I missed music so much.
I have a podcast interview coming up in the next month that I need to prepare for. This one is going to be a little more difficult than usual. It will be about accessibility in the high strangeness/paranormal space. It means getting a little more personal but I think it will be helpful to some people. I hope.
Something most people don’t know – I am into the paranormal/supernatural/weird science/high strangeness. The world is beautiful and wonderful and I wish to celebrate it.
There’s a lot to prepare for when the weather changes. The Arbor Foundation is going to be sending us 10 trees and 2 lilac bushes for conservation planting our lot. I’ve been reading about the size and space needs and am planning for that.
Additionally, I am hoping to get FBU and her fire performance troop up here to take some photos and get some plates for editing later. I’m trying to beef up my portfolio again and it’s been so long since I directed a photo shoot or did edits. I’m hoping to get some material for mock book covers from it.
Additionally, with my husband being between jobs at the moment – he doesn’t start til next month – I am fairly certain we have spent more time together in the last two months than the last three years. It’s been weird, but nice. He has finally caught me dancing with my headphones because I tend to forget he’s home.
I am of a mind that in most relationship (business, platonic, romantic, familial) between two people there is usually a straight man and a goblin. Apparently, he has informed me, he has strengthened the opinion that I am the goblin in our relationship. But he’s still fine with that.
Upcoming things to talk about:
The Stormlight Archive, my favorite book series
The original run of Secret Wars, wherein Dr Doom throws a tantrum because he falls down and Captain America offers to help him up
A post about Ry because he deserves to be talked about
So it is now March. I have taken a breath, and am learning this whole “don’t just sit down and write when you can’t sleep and perhaps not sound so unhinged.” This one is only a moderate exercise is rambling and will mainly be about FILM.
A morning text from my best friend
The downstairs flooded last night, so the shenanigans continue. I am tired. I hurt, a lot, from hauling and wringing out towels, mopping water, and crying. I’m a bit at the end of my rope here with things going wrong. But I continue to be motivated.
Love to my friend Kindle who has shared this journey of attempting to get our sparks back with me. Their writing is far better and thoughtful than mine and I appreciate the exchange. When I told them at the end of 2024 I couldn’t go on like this much longer, I had not thought I would find a stalwart companion in fighting back.
That being said, I told my manager at work that I would be entering 2025 with Big MCU Tony Stark Energy. I have been maintaining this. What does this mean? I’m not sure. Confidence to cover up my barely held together anxiety? Snarky comments? Equal levels of self-loathing? The other day, a project manager said that he “invoked (my) name during a conversation” and I found that hilarious but also a bit confidence boosting. Invoked. To summon me, one would need to lay out some cheese, a mug of London Fog, and a good book into a circle, walk widdershins three times and let out a string of curse words before saying “and fuck you and the horse you rode in on” because apparently I am “funny” when I’m frustrated.
Art is important. This is already all over the place. But anyway, art is important. It all means so much to me. There was a time I wanted to act, but then settled into not being in front of the camera because I have a real hate/hate relationship with myself I am also terrible. After taking Theater 101 my freshman year of highschool and apparently scaring the hell out of my classmates by doing a monologue from Fight Club, I decided maybe no. So I liked music better. I also discovered that learning table top roleplaying games help me scratch the itch to play and craft a story with others. Because honestly, I think all I wanted to do was play.
One of the biggest things to happen in the last few years is that I just… stopped. I stopped drawing. I stopped playing my instruments. I stopped daydreaming or trying to convince friends to do crazy art things. I stopped learning to fabricate puppets or even writing slam pieces. I turned in on myself.
I have been lucky enough to see two major long-term cinema journeys during my life. Lord of the Rings in middle school and early high school, then the Infinity Saga from Marvel. To a lot of people, these are just pop culture fluff. Untrue. The heroes journey can be found anywhere, for anyone. Captain Ahab is just as important to people as Captain America. Not only are the characters important, but the sheer teamwork and effort of making films of this magnitude is something a lot of people don’t realize. That alone is also an inspiration. I wonder, where am I in my hero’s journey as an artist?
It became an understood thing that going during opening weekend of any of these larger films would mean there would be cheering, crying and a general more expressive camaraderie. I remember the end of Return of the King, and my friends and I filling a row. A bunch punk of high school students in ripped band t-shirts and mohawks weeping while we snacked on stuff we sneaked into the theater as it was a long film. I remember the moment everyone cheered when Captain America lifted Thor’s hammer. When everyone cried as Tony Stark snapped his fingers. The cheering when the newer Muppets Movie came out and people quietly singing along to “Rainbow Connection.”
Hell, one of my favorite theater moments is when I went to see “Knives Out” with my husband and Daniel Craig as Benoit Blanc spoke for the first time, his cornpone accent a shock and a man a few rows in front of us let out a joyful “HA!” and we all started laughing.
I don’t get to go to theater productions as often as I’d like, but I enjoy those moments as well. That connection.
Last year I participated in a book club with my husband’s martial arts cohort – incidentally, their teacher (my husband’s area of study is Wing Chun and weapons) is our mutual friend Cap. We read “Shaolin Brew: Race in Comics” with a varied group of people. It was an experience to hear everyone talk about their favorite characters, what it meant to them, etc. We even had Jenny Blake Isabella (at the time she was known by the name Tony Isabella, and has since come out as herself – welcome Jenny! The Brew Crew loves you!), who is the creator of Black Lightning, a seminal comic character, come to one of our meetings to answer questions. She was so funny and we had an amazing discussion, and she is hoping to join us again. (Also – thanks Jenny for supporting my comments by saying “they did my man Tony Stark dirty in the 90’s,” yes, thank you). But a lot of our discussion was about the impact of these characters, especially in our very intersectional group. (Though we are all smitten with Luke Cage/Power Man.)
Later, we had the author of the book talk to us and he gave a high compliment, saying he wishes he had talked to a group like us before publishing the book. (Thank you, Troy, you were lovely.)
I have been reading comics since I could read. I have my favorites – Hellboy, The Maxx, Y the Last Man, Kingdom Come, Doctor Strange, The Defenders, Fantagraphics stuff like Love and Rockets – I devour anything by the Hernandez Brothers. Recently, the masterpiece My Favorite Things are Monsters. I read a lot of independent full stories or things from Dark Horse and Image. (I read “regular” books a lot too. So calm down.)
We can find ourselves anywhere and I think that seeing that reflection helps us cope.
I met my husband when I met up with some friends to see Captain Marvel. We were there to attend a pop culture art show and he was mutual friends with one of my good friends, but we had never crossed paths as he was away at school. At the end of 2024, things were pretty bleak here in my home. We talked about how excited we were for the next Captain America movie and decided that no matter how terrible things were going, we would make it a point to do a rewatch of the MCU. We would sit down, have a drink, snuggle the dog, and just try and push through.
This has ended up being a surprising self-reflective action. We talked during and after each film the same way one would talk through something selected by The Criterion Collection. (Admittedly, my coworker and I have started a semi-weekly movie night we have called Flix Not Cinema, where we watch whatever the fuck we want and will have enthusiastic discussions about movies like “Hell Comes to Frogtown” with the same gravitas.)
This is also the time when Roy told me his whole origin story. I had never heard it before. My husband is a clinician. He has worked really hard to become a doctor and our life is not glamorous. He only graduated residency a few years ago. We keep tripping over hurdle after hurdle by sheer awful luck or people in positions of power letting us down.
He originally wanted to be a surgeon. He told me he was good – very good. He enjoyed it and he was gearing up to specialize. Then he fell and broke his back. He was unable to get proper treatment – ironically because he was in med school and there was no time, money, or availability – and put it off. Barely making it through in a metal brace. Because of this, he could no longer stand for surgery.
When we were talking about the Marvel films he mentioned that he had skipped Doctor Strange and he thinks that the origin story may be why. We talked and decided to skip ahead to watch it. I ended up watching him react more than the movie. (I share this with his permission.)
As the time slowed down to show Strange’s hands smashed in the dashboard, I heard Roy take a sharp breath in. We stopped it and he took a moment and then said he could continue. He was sucked in, and I didn’t find out until the next day that he had processed his own journey. He sat down at breakfast and told me the whole story of his injury – one I hadn’t heard before. He is also a martial artist, which was something that was also largely lost to him. He said some other personal things that are not mine to tell, but the gist is he was able to prepare to face some buried stuff because of a “superhero movie.”
I had a similar experience a few weeks later with Iron Man 3. Seeing reflections of my own panic attacks on screen, the whole sub plot of “more than a man in a can,” thinking about my own experiences where I narrowly escaped losing my life… it pushed a button for me, too.
I have been in therapy for 5-6 years now. I’m not ashamed of it. If I hadn’t found my therapist, I don’t know where I would be after the multiple attacks and situations I went through. I appreciate her because we can talk about everything.
I broached the subject of the MCU rewatch, Roy’s reaction to Doctor Strange and my own to Iron Man 3. She responded with a sound of surprise.
“You’re rewatching? Me and my partner are, too!”
“Really? Fuckin serious?”
It turns out that she and her partner had near identical conversations as Roy and I had about rewatching the MCU, including whether to watch them in release order or chronological. We then used these films and characters to discuss reflections of behavior.
Yes, my incredibly accomplished and smart therapist with more letters behind her name than anyone I know used superheros to work through grief with me. We plan to continue this as we both rewatch, including The Blip later to talk about my grief.
I find myself enjoying conversations about society reflected in art and pop culture more and more. This year, I think, will be more about this sort of things for me. I have some books lined up on it – about Hong Kong cinema, Roger Corman’s empire, the sociological implications of Kaiju cinema. This is how I connect.
I’m thinking of talking to the local library about hosting a monthly film night.
Maybe Flix Not Cinema will bloom. I love getting lost in the weeds of it, and maybe a little of it is because I wanted to be a part of all of it so, so much. That worked towards it and left it behind because of things that happened to me beyond my control.
I have found more motivation as I slowly reconnect with people after burying myself in grief.
I have made a singular friend in the year we have lived here, and it turns out she is happy to be involved – including continuing to learn archery and I told her about this puppet build I wanted to do because I found it to be fun. My friend Kindle continues to be my inadvertent accountability buddy (yes, you are!) and our feedback loop of enthusiasm is helping me.
The friend I made here, HQ, came by and brought me a tub of rocks. Because apparently one looks at me and says “You are a woman of distinction. You are a woman who likes weird shit. Here’s some amethysts.” And she was right! I’m cleaning these and will use them in the garden.
I’ve chosen a suite to learn on the piano now that I have access again, and I am picking up my bass even though it still physically hurts me and I have to go slow.
Maybe, just maybe, I can find my spark again and survive in the bedlam that is developing.
My Goodreads – the “Now Reading” is mostly accurate as my ADHD brain often wanders from book to book. My 2024 reading was… a mood.
I was extremely stressed out, and my husband sat down to watch a Marx Brothers movie with me for the first time while I was trying to relax. My dad would put them on for me when I was a sick kid and apparently I didn’t say much until I started spouting Marx Bros quotes at a couple years old.
He says, “This. This is your whole personality. I understand now.”
I’d say it’s about 60/40 Marx Brothers and The Muppet Show. Possibly split further between that and Tom Waits music.
The last two weeks have been bedlam. A debacle. Maybe that’s a little bit of an exaggeration, but certainly in the macrocosm it has been as far as the changes in the country I live in and the area.
We had an abrupt employment change (not me) and were not sure if we would keep the roof over our heads. We scrambled and we are. However, this means I’ll be once again haunting the house as Roy is off doing a rotation across the country.
But you know what. I’ll figure it out.
We were talking about digging our heels in and not moving if we can avoid it. The only way I would move is to be just a little closer to a major city or if we absolutely have to. I’m exhausted. Relocating every few years since 2008 has been exhausting.
I’ve always had a weird love/hate with being in a city. I grew up in south western Pennsylvania, and Pittsburgh seemed less city-like as it was nestled into mountains and you could stumble into parks and green spaces so my time living there didn’t feel so city, even though most of my friends lived in the same neighborhood and I just walked to their places or I took the bus down town for work or the train (I loved riding the T).
I want what a city offers without the city. Music. Art. International food is a bonus. This has been the longest stretch of time I wasn’t in or near enough to several cities to scratch my culture itch.
Atlanta… Atlanta was a beast. My five years there was terrible and wonderful and I miss it but I think I would punch someone if I had to live metro again, though East Atlanta was okay. But sometimes I think about going back. It had everything that made me happy. Except the museums but I guess if you grow up near the Carnegie, that just kind of happens. The bar is high.
Some highlights as I look back on that time:
Finding the SCA and becoming determined I was going to learn to fence. I did okay, but my leg was even more messed up than it is now and I struggled. It was very soon after my violence-related trauma and it turns out that when someone was actually coming at me with a sword, I didn’t handle it well.
Guy on the left is Wistric. I called him the “Tony Stark of fencing.” He was going to take me on and train me and I chickened out, then I got in a situation where I was often discouraged from doing things. The kindness by this group will NEVER be forgotten by me
Living in East Atlanta. Walking to concerts all the time and wandering home in the middle of the night. Ill advised. My roommate, Patrick taking me on his motorcycle to the Midway Pub for vegan corndogs. (I miss Patrick. Living with Patrick was a blast and I sometimes think I should not have moved out and should have stayed with him, as things went a bit downhill after. Though there was still some good. Patrick remember when I came back and stayed when I was working on that puppet holiday short and you were like “please come back” well I should have, even though I would have moved in with Roy eventually. Patrick, you and Chrisco were the best – but also my heart will always remember David, Sharon and Ashley too)
Living in a house full of musicians when I first moved there.
Pressing tofu with an amplifier.
All the puppetry, music and film I participated in. I was basically a roadie for almost six years and I never learned to roll up cable properly.
I never learned that I needed to put my boots on BEFORE my corset when dressing for performances.
I miss DragonCon.
I miss all the movies. I loved seeing SHIELD vehicles parked around. Or the time I was in traffic and Captain America was stopped beside me on a vintage WWII motorcycle and full gear. Was it a stunt man? Was it a cosplayer? Who knows. But we saluted at each other.
The time I took myself to see Cirque du Soleil three times.
Sweet Hut. Oh god, Sweet Hut. Please give unto me tofu sandwiches and savory bread and caterpillar pastries.
And while we are at it LA FONDA. Both locations.
Getting my ears pierced and crying because it hurt so much (this was when I was just discovering that the pain I feel is NOT the normal of level of pain everyone feels and thus the journey on figuring out my autoimmune disorder. The piercing artist was very kind.) Wandering down the street after to Flying Biscuit to eat garlic green beans and mac n cheese.
The Ghastly Dreadfuls at the Center for Puppetry Arts.
The haunted shed in the back of Patrick’s house. Fuck that shed. I hated it.
Conversely, The tree swing in Patrick’s yard. This, I was fond of and was on it constantly.
When we would lay out in the yard and night and watch the owls. We may or may not have been blissfully stoned.
The time our other roommate came home from working as a PA and said “Hey, the location scout for some show is going to come look at our place for exteriors. Is that okay?” We said “Yeah, sure.” We didn’t get chosen, but next summer we found out it was for Stranger Things.
Most of my friends being in Marvel, Walking Dead, or Stranger Things activities, then making indie movies on weekends.
My time in the Weather Channel mail room. God I loved that gig. I covered reception for an hour every day.
Playing gigs in Heaven and Hell.
When they shut down the street in front of my print shop job for a film. There was going to be explosions. We had to get there early so they could let us through. I got there at 5am, but the owner wasn’t there yet so I sat on the sidewalk and the special effects team chatted with me about what would happen and answered all my questions. They were very nice.
Hating the FUCKING PERIMETER. WHY. WHO DESIGNED THAT.
Bar trivia nights with Teddy Bash. We scored a perfect game once because I was able to answer “What is the requirement for masseuses in feudal Japan?” “They are blind. Because of Zatoichi.” “What’s Zaotichi?” “The Blind Fucking Swordsman, what you we raised in a goddamn barn?”
Walking downstairs once into a clothing optional party on the main floor of one of the places I rented a room. A dude telling me that “Dating is his hobby, would I like to be on the list?” and I was just trying to get a fucking apple out of the cupboard lord save me from the hippies. (Sparkle Pony Express was good though, you guys were good hippies ha)
The time I got the flu and was so sick I passed out in the hallway and Chrisco put me in bed.
When we got fireworks and set them off in the cul-de-sac and pretended to be wizards, and everyone wanted to play with puppets.
When I saw the Electric Six and started chatting with the guitar player after when we were waiting for drinks at the bar. I asked, “How do you get over your stage fright? I’ve been in ensemble groups, but now I’m in a small band and I’m kind of scared.” He told me: “Just push yourself a little bit more to be weird every time and eventually, you are outside your own box.”
Going to see Teddy Bash play in the symphony.
Puddles Pity Party.
Feeling so alive and creative, even when I was in a very bad situation.
Working for The Extraordinary Contraptions – this was at a hot air balloon festival. That’s me on the far left.
Before I started to drift a bit, lose my spark for my own art (though I do well continuing to do freelance for others), I was more easy with myself. I would do whatever was in my head, whether I shared it or not, and had fun with it. I think sometimes about the stereotypes of the dramatic, emotion filled artist. It is really hard for me to do art when I’m not in a good place. I do better when I’m full of moxie and whimsy and the ideas flow.
When I’m hurting or grieving or sad, it’s like a dam goes up. I don’t know if it is a catharsis for me then. Music usually is – I listen or play, but I don’t share. My visual art and projects tend to just… stop. I’ve been struggling with this for a bit.
I attended a medium university. My major was graphic design but the art program for design was newish and on top of our design studio and survey we had to get our hands into just about everything – including sociology, economics, and philosophy.
I had painting survey and studio. I had my friends in university, but as far as the art department and classes I kept to myself a bit. By my third year, I had gotten myself in a bad situation that I tried to not bring attention to – it affected me in every way and would take two and half years before I would get out of it.
I still did my best. I started to struggle with sharing in my painting studio, always looking at what others did and trying to force those feelings out of me instead of clamming up.
I had a project due, an oil, and I only had three primary colors and some white. I didn’t have the funds for any more. I would walk the mile to campus in the middle of the night and sign myself into the attic studio at the old art building and try and think.
A friend had given me a Spider-man pez dispenser. The candy was gross, but I started carrying it around in my pocket. It was a weird grounding object for me. I would fidget with it, offer other people the candy, just generally hold onto it like it was something that kept me tethered.
So I sat in the studio, staring at my canvas. If I remember correctly, I had Led Zeppelin blasting in my headphones. I took the Pez dispenser out and set it next to my easel, just to dig for something in my pocket. I had an idea. One that made me laugh, and I needed a laugh at that moment.
And thus was born my only oil painting (I found over time I preferred the chaos of watercolors) to date. I can’t remember what my professor said about it – I don’t think he ever really liked what I did. I liked him a lot, but he was kind of edgy and one of those people that went to Burning Man before Burning Man was glamping for techbros and heiresses. But I think he appreciated that I had some sort of wonderland going on inside my head even if I didn’t say much.
This may be one of my favorite things I have ever done, because it means a lot to me. The skill is questionable, I had no idea what I was doing with oil, my supplies were limited, but it’s a pure example of something that passes through my head. The black is latex house paint that I bartered a granola bar for when someone else was in there with the can open.
What if the Pez dispenser’s Spidey sense went off when someone reached for it?
I actually had a triptych study of Mike Mignola’s Hellboy for composition class that was tempera on some weird slick paper that I can’t remember but they were either stolen or lost after the student art show.
I still need to get some sort of gilded frame for this thing. It still makes me happy.
Everything feels so big – but I try to calm my mind and focus on what I can control
To ground myself, I am looking at these books:
Books are my vice. I could build a fort out of them. Want to support an independent bookstore but not somewhere you can get to them? Try http://www.bookshop.org – they now have ebooks, too.
Visit your local library! Or buy used! I use Thriftbooks quite a bit. When I am truly finished with a book I try to pass it on, donate it to a direct cause, use the No Buy Group in my town, or Thriftbooks has a buy back program now if you want to put it back in circulation.
Recycle your clothes, shoes, backpacks, bags, etc with Trashie. Trashie now recycles technology, too! https://www.trashie.io/
Terracycle recycles and repurposes things that generally you cannot recycle locally. They also now have a useful home goods shop with things like storage containers and plant pots that are made from the recycled materials that people send it. AND if the item gets broken or the life of the item is over for you, you can send it back to be recycled again https://www.terracycle.com/en-US/
Crown Poly has products made from plant based materials, are compostable, or made from reclaimed ocean plastic. https://www.crownpoly.com/project/hipposak/
There are options for picnic ware made from cornstarch or are biodegradable.
I read news from Alaina Woods, a climate scientist here:
I’m looking forward to replacing what little grass is around my house and the sparse moss with this fine fescue and clover pollinator low-mow blend. The roots will help the soil as well. This is our test patch from last summer:
There’s thankfully still a lot of want to be harmonious with the environment in the state where I live – so we’re looking at grants from the Soil and Water administration, the Arbor foundation, and the community garden to try and clean up and restore. Hopefully starting the orchard as well. We only have 5 acres, and most of it is woods, backed up against 80 acres of open forest. But we will love it the best we can.
Writing while I think of it and will return later with pictures and further explanation.
Things fucking blow right now, gentle reader, where I live. It’s been one rug pull after another for myself and Roy, since about early 2020.
Being a wraith around your own home while being completely separated from your friends, family, and your partner and repeatedly trying to find footing in new communities grates on you after a while. It’s easy to be in a Mood.
Regardless, this week in particular is a sword of Damocles hanging over our household. We shall know by Sunday if things are to get a lot worse or a lot better in my household microcosm.
But I partially digress –
What occurred to me this past weekend is that as alone, hopeless, and just generally terrible I have felt for the last five years, I have been doing a great disservice to the people in my life by not recognizing that they are, in fact, there. The thing about spending the majority of your adult life thus far (from about 2006 to 2019) in the clutches of complete and utter wankers that spend most of their time tearing you down to make themselves feel better, it becomes a bit of a forest/trees situation. Add to that being very isolated, moving multiple times, and your body becoming your enemy, everything feels impossible and people feel so far away (not just physically but in every other way, too.)
I am very used to having friends scattered about the country and the world, and driving a couple hours to see someone or taking phone calls in the middle of the night because it’s the afternoon in Britain or the West Coast of the US. The last couple years, though, I was alone pretty much 75% of the time, sometimes going whole days without speaking out loud except to the animals or even bothering to write a letter, email or text. (I love the advent of texts and emails, honestly, as a prolific note-passer in high school.)
All this to say, I did not realize that I exist in other people’s minds. I am shocked when people recognize or remember me or they say “so and so told me about you.” Every time. Without fail.
So I was a bit surprised when about a month ago I got a message from someone that I knew just socially. I am a bit of a lurking member of some special interest groups or talk channels. In this case, a bit of a club that is run by a couple of paranormal investigators that has grown past the confines of a club to real friendships and to conversations about all sorts of things. For the record – I think the universe and world are far bigger than we imagine and I love all things high strangeness. I was a Goosebumps and X-Files child.
I had talked to her – I’ll call her by the name I first knew her by though I don’t think she minds general first name usage, and that name is Fire Breathing Unicorn (she is in fact a fire performer!) – over the past three years just in conversation, responses to things, about books, just a general club sort of association and it grew into a friendship, along with a handful of other folks that I have done things with or see as friends.
But she said to me, summarized as such:
“Hey! I heard you moved very far away from everything after having a very bad time and you now live in Very Cold State. I also live in Very Cold State! In fact, Mimici and two others live not too far from me in Very Cold State and Other Very Cold State. It must be hard being alone and starting over, and I have heard about the hard time you are having. Winters can be isolating here, so how about we all find a central place and meet up? Things are scary in the world right now and this will also give us a chance to feel okay and also have a great time being weird.”
I was pleasantly surprised.
FBU found a farmhouse that was available for rent in a surprisingly central location. We all pitched in to rent it for the weekend.
This past Saturday, I rose early, attended the animals, told Roy I wouldn’t get in too much trouble, and headed out.
And it was easy. Reader, it was so fucking easy. I arrived and it was like no one was a stranger. Someone made local wild rice soup with mushrooms and sourdough bread. I brought drinks. Another had snacks. All n attendance were laid back, open to being weird and goofy and playful, and adventurous. We talked about conversations we had, philosophy, high strangeness, the state of the country and what we could do about it – punctuated with excited exclamations of “THE DONKEY IS BACK!” every time one of the animals wandered past the window in the snow.
And everyone brought something with them on the topic of exploring the world beyond what we know. A show and tell of ghost hunting equipment, tarot cards, a stack of books on quantum theory and philosophy and Jung, spoons to bend, a spirit board, all manner of things.
Zener Cards – We did a round of 24. I got 6 of 24 right, but 5 of them were all in a row.
So we dove in. We did remote viewing, someone suggested living room karaoke, we tried to bend spoons. I sure do miss having slumber parties. I have slept on a lot of couches in my time, partially just because visiting people were often weekend trips, or we stayed up too late for it to be safe to drive home.
Like a junior high sleepover. Except with high strangeness.
We also had an adventure – it turns out someone we all know in the same manner, who is a Swedish researcher for the BBC and folklorist, mentioned off handedly he had a branch of his family that moved to America a hundred yearsish ago and was looking for someone in America to see if they could find anything out. And it turns out that they moved to THE TOWN THAT WAS CENTRAL TO US THAT WE WERE IN.
So we dove into ancestry research, checked records and found the cemetery. We trudged through a foot of snow in negative Farenheit weather, determined to find the burial place. We found the wrong person the first time, but I was informed after I returned home the next day that they went back out and found we were at the renamed version of that cemetery and they found the actual place and LOCATED THE FAMILY.
I believe I was the shortest at 5’4″, though the others weren’t too far off. I’m not sure if I was standing in a divot or just vastly overestimated the snow depth.
.
I sat on this thought this past Sunday, when I returned to the Grief that lives in my home right now. That maybe, no one is ever too far away. Same moon in the sky and all that. Or in the case of my best friend, the Rivendel Elf to my Hobbit Self, Beth – “we have the same joggers with stars on them so we can match from two sides of the continent.”
Hell, the fact that we almost lost our home at the end of 2023 and people I barely know did a fund raiser and auction for us, sent us canned goods and food for the animals. I will never, ever forget that, but somehow part of my heart did.
Maybe, though Grief is less a shambling thing or monster under my bed, and is more a season for me, sometimes these seasons can have a spot of sun.
This took a bit of a turn in this writing, I suppose, but part of doing this is maybe having catharsis.
Additionally, I found that when doing psychic experiments, getting progressively baked does not in fact increase your psychic abilities but you do get damn confident in your guesses. Also I may have a future in remote viewing.
If this week goes well, we will go see Captain America: Brave New World on Sunday because Mackie deserves his fucking flowers and I am terrifically excited.
Cover art for Charity EP – June 2023 Digital – texture, color, building and graphics
This is definitely one of my favorite projects and I got there in a roundabout way.
In December of 2022, the show The Last Drive-In with Joe Bob Briggs, that is part of AMC+ and streams on the Shudder network had a charity auction.
My husband, unbeknownst to me, had somehow managed to snag me the item that I thought was the best idea: a custom song by the music supervisor at the time of the show, John Brennan.
Subsequently, the producer and director of the show got in touch with me through email, and put me in touch with John Brennan.
We had some crossed wires with emails and finally John set up something and I forget how it came about but he ended up just giving me a call.
We talked for a long time about the songs, convention experiences, and film and had so much fun when I tossed out that the topic should be “cheese” he came up with the idea of expanding it from one song to a 5-song EP.
I didn’t have the ability to travel to John to play any instruments or a setup at home to record myself, so he offered for me to design the cover.
John is prolific as fuck and he and Liz put together five songs in styles of bands I like and thus Cheese for Charity was born.
We ended up getting the okay to sell the expanded collaboration as a charity during a time frame for St. Jude’s Hospital. I produced one song, he made four more, and then we raised more money for charity!
John is fantastic, tells awesome stories, and has the best New York accent. He’s always kind to me and fun to talk to when we chat or text. He had a bit of a rough time in the fall of 2024 with an apartment fire and some project changes. I definitely look forward to supporting him in the future!
Some day we’ll do that puppet music video together.
This was so much fun and I got a portfolio piece for it.
It is about time I got my act together to make a website. I have often practiced shouting into the void and now and again the void shouts back. I’m not the best at writing bios but I’ll try to give a survey of who I am. (Thank you, Kindle, for reading this and giving me helpful feedback.)
My name is Caite. I’m an individual of many hats. Mainly I am a visual artist, musician, puppeteer and gal Friday. I love art and film, and so much of the opportunities I have had in my life in these regards are through the kindness of others and the drive that “I want to play, too.” I think being oneself and play is very important.
I hope to make this site a portfolio of my professional and semi-professional works as well as a blog. I find writing helps me process and it seems to have helped others hold accountability with their projects if they have an outlet.
There will be swearing. There will be pontificating about media, film, books, music, high strangeness, puppets, whatever strikes my fancy.
There will eventually be a portfolio of my work as a designer and production artist. These include logos, adverts, album covers and packaging, art, and various things.
My day job is a graphic designer/production artist for a large hospitality technology company which I have worked with since 2017. Chances are, you have interacted with something I helped do if you stayed in a major hotel. On top of content and design, I suppose I bring a bit of goblin chaos to the proceedings, as my team is wonderful, and I am certain if we were ever in a room all at once we would get in a spot of trouble.
I hope that perhaps this will be catharsis and something to help me get a bit of a spark back after giving up hope a little bit. My home carries grief as a visitor as of late.
I try to respect privacy where I can so some people when I mention them will be referred to as nicknames or other things. I have some lovely interactions I hope to share sometimes, but I may leave out names or further identifying things.
Those that know me and have met my husband, I assure you that Roy is in fact the person you have met that has a different name. He asks that I am vague about him in certain situations, so I am and also why sometimes I use both names when talking to certain people.
I am a survivor of domestic violence and other situations that have colored how I interact with the world a bit. I am six years into a good therapist – who recommended I write again. Whether or not I actually give this link out we’ll see ha, and this is something that I am working on releasing shame for.
Part of what I do is contract with a victim advocacy center where I handle their marketing, information design needs and social media/information networking in addition to my day job. They provide care and emergency services for people in domestic abuse situations as well as safe visitation space for people looking to regain custody of their children.
I’m in my 30’s. I have a chronic health condition that is genetic and a few years ago dislocated/cracked my tailbone and I did not seek medical attention and now I am all kinds of fucked up about it. I am still in the process of physical therapy. I despise physical therapy, but I adore my therapist (hello E.U., you’re wonderful and I like that we laugh through every session.)
I’m interested in conservation and being the best human I can while interacting with the Earth. I may post about that as well from time to time, in addition to the things we attempt to do around our home in the woods. I’m most at home surrounded by trees.
As of this writing I have two house rabbits and a dog.
My rabbits are Mystic and Hex. Mystic is a bizarre little monster that is wholly unafraid of people and demands to be actually carried around like a small monarch. We call him the Duchess. Hex is a mild-mannered guy that spent the first 15 months of his life in a shelter until we adopted him. He has been on the inside and has the scars to prove it. He’s been slow to open up but he’s always up for a cuddle.
My dog is Arrow, and knows words in English and American Sign Language, and is a menace. He’s a little over a year old and is some sort of Great Pyrenees / poodle amalgamation. He’s somewhere over 65lbs and when he stands on his back legs he is almost face to face with me (I’m about as average as they come at 5’4″) so he’s like a giant toddler.
I have been in a few independent puppet film projects and I am grateful for the chance, live projects and performances, and performed and volunteered for the Puppetry Track at DragonCon and the Center for Puppetry Arts in Atlanta, Georgia, USA. There is nothing quite like doing line entertainment and direction for drunken con-goers in the middle of the night waiting to see a puppet slam. I always tabled at the puppetry track table as I loved being a pusher for puppet information and art. The last year I was able to attend before my life became extremely chaotic and we had to move several times, I was “promoted” and managed opening the table myself.
Judging from my hair color this must be 2015. Behold my puppet holster.Running fog machine and lights for an indie horror film. This was actually in the yard where I was living with my two roommate, Chrisco and Patrick. It was by the haunted shed that I hated. Yes, my hat has ears on it.
Growing up I enjoyed photography, and my friends and I were always making or writing movies. I have an interest in languages and figured I would be in film, photography or become a linguist/translator. None of which really came to fruition in full. In high school I took university level English and Literature courses and excelled there and in art and design while struggling with maths and everything else and generally getting into every music or performance situation I could. I did a pretty decent turn as MacBeth in a table reading of the play because none of the guys wanted to do it.
Three of the classic films by Laverne Productions of Fayette County. Good lord I need to digitize these and get some permissions to at least share Robots Outside
I went to a small art program at a small university in the woods by the river and some train tracks. It was a weird time in my life and sometimes I feel like I could have done better but here we are.
As a musician, I took formal piano lessons, but otherwise no formal training though I wish I had. I took a lesson now and again with a local guy to help me when the band director gave me a particularly difficult piece or for a really tough musical number. I have played bass guitar since my 13th birthday and frequently was in pit orchestras for musicals as a student and later a hired ringer.
I wanted to audition for Cirque du Soleil musician in college, but I backed out at the last minute after practicing my heart out for it. Much like each year I stare at the application for the O’Neil Puppetry Conference and then never click “send.”
Sometimes I wonder about that. I did swing/jazz band all through high school and college and field band. I do also play the flute, which is sort of something I just figured out after very rudimentary “you put your fingers here” lessons in middle school. I have been in student orchestras as well as high honors audition-based state- and country-wide orchestras and I think it was mainly moxie that got me there because I just wanted to play music so badly. My senior year of high school, I had a solo, but I had to switch chairs with the second chair flute so I was not immediately visible because I kept laughing at the climax of “Also Sprach Zarathrustra” and I am not sure why it struck me as so funny but it did. I got in a little trouble. I briefly played tenor saxophone in middle school at age 12 or 13 because it was the same place you put your fingers for flute but sideways. I was not the best with a reed instrument but why not.
I played bass in field band. By hooking my amplifier to a boat battery. Every time the weather turned sour, it was an adventure.
I’m allegedly an alto according to the musical director of my high school but mainly I sing for fun and by imitation. My voice sounds like “a Disney princess with a northern Appalachian accent and a vocal fry” as per a friend and I guess that’s fairly accurate.
I worked for a band for a number of years, and have been in several of my own. The band I worked for, which some of these details will come later, was a concept band and we all had costumes and characters. I did everything from run their merch table, book shows, edit videos, design CD packaging, whatevs.
Music is my life line. I was (and probably still am) a punk kid growing up – garage shows, everyone in a band, mohawks, The Clash, The Sex Pistols, Rancid, Bowie, Pink Floyd the whole deal. I’m not too much different now, honestly.
Some of the lads. This was at a charity event my friends and I did for the local homeless shelter called “Mission for the Mission.” I was the event photographer. Two of the boys in this photo have passed away in the last ten years. Godspeed Nate and Jeffy.
I live in America, and things are quite a mess here right now. I shall endeavor to live deliciously as I can and do all the good I can for the environment and fellow humans before my punk ass is carted away. Human rights and equality are important to me.
I am the stereotypical “voracious reader.” I read comics as well as books.
On all this – I invite you to reach out. Despite being a bit quiet, I really like talking to people from all over the world, and am always up for a chat.
I’m still trying to sort out a contact page, but for now you can reach me at steampoweredmouse@gmail.com
I’m currently open for some professional inquiries as well.
Cheers and remember:
Strength before weakness. Life before death. Journey before destination.
Caite/Maus
Additional resources for the time that are reflective of who I am:
My interview on “Creative Weirdos” with Todd Purse. Todd is wonderful and I love his art. We talk about games, the nature of play, philosophy, whatever. We had no plan and he just asked me to do it. This was the first time we ever spoke! He is delightful. I just sort of… talked for awhile. It starts with video games and art and I pick up steam and throw out all sorts of philosophical nuggets that may or may not hold truths. Probably not. Contains my superhero origin story.
My only starring film role! An 8mm black and white film done in conjunction with Pittsburgh Filmmakers by Jonathan Decarlo (he works in THE INDUSTRY now) I think we were all between 18-21 in this. I did this because I spent an ungodly amount of time each summer with these punks and we were always making movies and also they needed a girl and I said “Okay.”
*It occurs to me now that while I hadn’t watched or thought about this movie in awhile, it’s a little odd because only a couple years after this I would be car jacked while sitting at a red light (perhaps for another post) and then a little after that I would dodge fate again at the hands of an angry man. This is now kind of ominous foreshadowing. However – I am still happy I participated. Also, the “John Doe” in this is one of my best friends from high school. He stayed over my house all the time and I at his and we would run around at 2am causing trouble. I was in his wedding a few years back.
The 2015 DragonCon parade puppetry track support of Big Bird. (There is an excellent story here. Timestamp 14:12, good view of the group and I’m the one in the back in the black and purple with the bright blue gremlin puppet.)
