I’ve kinda been offline for a while again now- expect for Twitter. Somehow I always end up on Twitter…. Anyway, its been a little crazy around here lately and I’ve had a lot of stuff happening in my life. Nothing bad, no worries. Just things that has been claiming my attention lately.
Dark Mare has been in overdrive as well. Long story short, I have discovered that I really like being a cartoon character. (Best selfie ever.)
I am really coming around to this whole photography thing. As much as I am a writer, and words will always be my chosen media, working with pictures is something new and kind of amazing, really. Aston and the Red Scarlet, shooting the sunset, cartoon style.
Granted, its an awesome picture without the filter as well.
The ocean was amazing, by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever been at a Danish beach this early in the summer, with water this warm.
We were working though, so not much playing around.
Without disclosing too much, we have three projects running at the moment. One of them includes my books…
I met my “new” little sister again recently. The one I never knew I had, until 30 years later… Every time I look at this picture, I see her. It’s kinda funny, since we are only half siblings.
I guess there are somethings you can’t escape. Like your DNA. Chuck knows I’ve tried. (Sorry, SPN joke… I can’t help it.)
I guess that’s why I love the cartoon character look. It feels like fantasy. Like the things I write, even if I am not writing cartoons. But fantasy is kind of my thing.
Even the kiddos look good as cartoon horses.
Oh yeah, I met my father’s brother for the first time too. I never knew my father. I grew up knowing only my mom’s family, and every single one of them are teachers, lawyers, nurses or biologists. You know, people with long, elaborate educations. I was always the girl with the horses. To this day, I can’t say the word “horses” without feeling a little bit bad, because it was always so wrong for me to follow that path instead of studying at the university. I guess that’s one of the reasons I call them kiddos, and anything other than “horses.” Horses are bad. Its not serious. So what if you have a talent for training or riding them? Its not really a real thing, is it? So what if you won a ribbon, or managed to keep Poseidon alive and relatively happy for 15 years? When are you going back to school? You know, to make something of yourself?
That’s my family on my mothers side. Turns out, my fathers brother has horses. That is completely strange for me. Someone I can talk to at a family gathering who wont shake his head or roll his eyes at the word “horse.” I am not sure how to deal with that.
Also, my fathers other brother, who is dead without me ever knowing him, is a published author. That’s another thing my mothers family never quite understood. Writing.
I mean, don’t get me wrong. I was always encouraged to do the things I wanted to do, the horses too, even if I always knew they were hoping that I’d grow out of it. But the writing. Fantasy? Elves? Dragons? Really?
I was always met with a strange mixture of my family being amazed that I had the imagination for writing, and still they felt that I should use my talents for something more… real. You know, like education, real.
But I’m not the only writer in my family. That’s so… Yeah, like I said to begin with, a lot of things to pay attention to, and process.
I feel like I’m being unfair to the family that raised me here. I just never really felt like one of them. Which is strange, because I never felt unloved, for instance. I guess that mostly, I felt that there was something inside me, they could never understand. That’s the other side of this, I guess. All I ever heard of my dad is that he was… strange. Weird. And not in a good way. Never having met him, I can’t tell how much is a reflection of the people I talk to, and how much is true, but I can know that I recolonize myself in the picture they paint of him, a lot. And I know too, that I grew up knowing that the way I sometimes feel, is wrong.
Meeting my fathers family, made my mom talk about him. She told me how once, he told her to leave him alone and went sit at the stable. (They lived on a farm, but without horses.) He told her to not bother him, at all. He would do that a lot. Just shut her, and everything, out. And then his dad called and insisted that my mom went and got him. (Long before cellphones.) So she did, and he snapped out of his gloomy mood and talked to his dad on the phone, smiling and laughing as if nothing was wrong at all. And my mom felt like he was making a fool of her, because she had told his dad that he did not want to be disturbed.
I am a bit stunned to hear a story like that, because that is exactly how I grew up. That is so… me. I can always put on a smiley face and be normal, when I am among people. And if I, once in a while, asked for help, my family would not hear me, because I could smile if I had to. In fact, they would feel like I was playing them. I’ve been told that a lot. “Don’t be manipulative. You are not depressed when you can snap out of it when you go to the stable.”
Again, not blaming them for anything here, even if it sounds like it. They could not possibly understand. It is not in them, like it is in me. Whatever it is.
I always tried to disregard DNA. I always wanted to believe that you are who you choose to be. And of course that is true, to some extent. That said, having met Apocalipse and Ablaze on the night they were born, having seen the huge personas they were both born with from the second they opened their eyes, I can’t pretend that DNA does not matter.
The fundamental part of your personality, is given to you by your parents, whether they want it or not. Its not just the way you look, that is passed on. I guess that is why being a cartoon character is so appealing to me at the moment. Why I always loved writing fantasy. Creating worlds and characters. Being anything I wanted to be. Escaping for a moment, who I was born to be.
Reminding me of who I want to be, and that I do have the power to choose to be that person, no matter what blood runs through my veins.
How do I always end up sounding clinically insane on this blog? I guess I should work on that… I’m perfectly sane, I swear… Stop laughing…