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[oneladydracor]

HELP!

A friend of mine and woman I greatly admire needs some help so I set this up for her. Please help a lady out and share/donate if you can?

[oneladydracor]

This tiger was my very first experiment with Cheviot wool, a breed of sheep I’d heard of but never laid hands on before. I have to say, so far I love it! The colors were dyed by Ten Good Sheep, and have a lovely richness to them without being too vivid. Figment Familiars like this one come in many varieties, and each one has a unique Heart embedded inside its felted wool body. The Heart gives each Figment its own individual energy and personality. When you purchase a Figment, you choose the type of Heart you want inside it!

This piece is being set aside for my next event table, but there are lots of others in the shop!

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[oneladydracor]

I’m writing a mockup invitation for the wedding things and this is how I want to portray “how it happened.”

Picture it. Easter 2017.

A beautiful Spring Day. A goofy looking happy couple taking an afternoon walk. One with a ring in their pocket and a hopeful heart. The other with a bouncy step and a nostalgia for the future to be. They hold hands and talk about gardens and houses. The Bouncy Dreamer explains what they wish they had Right Now and that they did not have to wait. The Hopeful Heart laughs and asks if they can come along. Bouncy Dreamer says that the Hopeful Heart should be there. That's part of it. Then asks why they're looking around so twitchy and nervous like. What are they thinking? "I'll tell you later." Hopeful Heart replies, fidgeting with the ring in their pocket.

The two come towards home, and Hopeful Heart has built up the courage now as they stop in front of the stairs. "You want to know what I was thinking earlier?" The Bouncy Dreamer certainly does, and waits to hear it. "I was thinking...I like the sound of a House with a Garden. I was thinking I love the sound of being there with you. I love you. I was thinking...I was thinking...would you Marry Me?" The ring, in it's box, comes out of pocket and is presented. Hopeful Heart is a Nervous Heart, face as red as a Dragon's scales. Bouncy Dreamer looks wide eyed and startled and cannot make a single word, but looks between the face and the ring with a series of noises. Slowly taking the box. Hopeful Heart puts on a confident tone that masks the nervousness. "I mean that. I'm serious. Marry Me?" More noises follow, positive, cute surprised noises. But not a single word. The two hug tight. Hopeful Heart laughs a little, still heady and jittery from nerves "You didn't say yes." Bouncy Dreamer looks a touch indignant but smiles to break it. "YES!"

So together, Hopeful Dreamer they become, retreated inside and went to go buy groceries and plan a wedding.

Think Fiance will allow it?

[oneladydracor]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I AM TRYING TO WEDDING.

TRIS DOESNT WEDDING???

PLANNING A PLANS

*SCREEEEEEE*

*CONFUSION INTENSIFIES*

I DONT REALLY DO A FUTURE PLANNING EVENTS THAT WELL. IT’S WHY I’M NOT A TEACHER.

IM A OF-THE-MOMENT ANIMAL.

I’M PLANING THE THINGS.

I have information gathered for things sorta. but CHRIST AM I LOST ALREADY.

I came on here looking for an artist to do me a picture. 

[oneladydracor]

You’re Left handed!

Little things we do can be alienating to people.

It's no secret that I've moved back to MD. But not to the house I once lived and was crookedly raised in. I moved in with my Fiance and his Family on the other side of the city.Moving back to MD and living here for a month now has been an experience that is appreciated, enjoyed and fun. It's emotional and scary and alienating. There is a stark contrast between spending the night at my friend's house hanging out with him, and living in the world he's grown up with.

They've all been nothing but nice and friendly to me. I call his mom and dad by those titles. They are my parents. I adore them both. I see his brother as my new brother.But at the end of each day I feel like an invasive feral that got into the house and they're trying to domesticate it. I'm the Coyote in the house and I'm lonely and frightened.They haven't done anything to instigate these feelings. I recognize that it all stems from my head alone and that my responses and feelings towards any interactions are colored by my past experiences. But their home life is very different from mine and the disconnection is severe. Little things that in small doses don't really cause trouble pile up on me like ticks on the coyote. And any time you remove one you discover with disgust that there are more and it seems hopeless.I know where nothing is. These things are not my things. Various little behaviors are foreign to me and cause hesitation. 

Today I looked outside and I thought "I could mow the grass for them. but I don't know the combination to the shed lock." With this thought I realized...They're not Coyotes. They're domesticated, Established folks.

Their habits are so normal to them, that they don't see me as a Coyote. They just see another person. And on that view act like I should understand/know what is happening.It's not ill intent. There is ZERO malice involved. They simply BE THEMSELVES. And I love that. I adore it. But simple things or seemingly simple things escape me.

I can't mow the lawn.

I don't know where places are around here.

I don't know what all is in cupboards, pantries, freezers or fridge. Even with poking around I get lost in what I'm trying to find.

I can't make a VCR/DVD player work with a fancy TV.

I don't feel comfortable digging around anything that isn't mine which includes moving anything to make my life a little easier.

An increasing number of things...

It was for me a real "You're left handed?!" moment. You see an ex of mine was left handed. I found that a fun little thing to learn. But it was so normal for him that he never thought to say anything about it because he saw it as mundane and typical. So I learned that months into the "relationship." When I exclaimed over that little fact he was amused. It changed his view of things a fraction.

It's like that for everyone. We all do things in such a way, and it gets bigger, more ingrained, with more folks. It can become alienating and scary when you're introduced because when you see everyone else effortlessly doing something you think you should know but don't, you get lost and discouraged. It takes paying attention to yourself, and how you do things to really help someone adjust to something new for THEM.

You were the Coyote once. Everyone has Coyote moments and you can't control how people feel when they get that way. But you can help by remembering that little things (You're left handed?!) you do in typical behavior in your environment aren't publicly known or practiced and take your Coyote with you to show them how it's done.

[oneladydracor]

Part one of Chapter 2. Vampire in Paradise.

It’s riddled with some nonsense jesus christ. And I’d been drinking so I was hella chatty. Which is part of why we had to stop recording.

Reminder: This is an adult Romance Novel. Even if it’s poorly written.

[oneladydracor]

TREFOIL ACADEMY. WE ARE NOT NEUTRAL. >:C

And as a Chaotic Good I will have it stated, I do not like Samoas. 

[oneladydracor]

Crabrawler vr. Sharpedo tho

Sixgill shark and a crab sharing a piece of fish

[oneladydracor]

Tris and Cake ( @drunksparce) read Vampire In Paradise by Sandra Hill. Chapter One.

We’re swapping back and forth between each chapter for who reads. I get the first chapter. Introducing the first potential fuckbuddy! Also sad backstory. And Porn Con.

[oneladydracor]

@drunksparce and I went to the book store. On a wild hare I decided to look for “The Haunted Vagina” which sadly was not found. After that we sought out the fabled Dinosaur Erotica, this too was not found.

What we DID find was Vampire In Paradise. An erotic novel by Sandra Hill. A notedly notorious bad writer.

Being the pair of nimrods that we are we got it. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the first installment of Vampire in Paradise and let us know if you want to hear more.

CAUTION!! While poorly written this book still contains sexual content.

[oneladydracor]

I Matter

I posted on Facebook today the thing I’ve seen again around “Tris isn’t Tris without _____.” Didn’t know what I’d get. If anything. It’s a catch 22.

Bee-doop! A notification! My Director for my camp, the wonderful, world moving Ash, responded. 

I think it was something like...1400 lives. We, as camp councilors, have touched 1400 lives in the 8 years that Trefoil Academy has run, along with it’s mini camps. That’s for Students and Adults. I’m one of those 1400 and damn if that’s not amazing. We share that.We’ll always have Trefoil as that number grows.

I have always held that in high regard. I know I am doing something wonderful. I know I am giving kids a place to be safe, and feel loved and respected. To be listened to. But in some ways I think...I took that for granted. Because I don’t see my own self worth, because I think less of myself I thought I didn’t matter as much. If I was gone, so what?

But this year was a huge point for me. I’ve mentioned it before.This was my second year as Head of my House. Third helping to be a Director. Even if it’s behind the scenes, which is what I’ve always done. This year my students saw some of the face of Trisska in honesty. Driving the point home that they matter to me as Persons growing in this weird and frustrating world. That I look forward to seeing them, as much as they apparently do with me. I can hear the echos, as I write, of being told “You make camp, camp, Tris. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” “I’m glad you’re here, you’re awesome.” “I appreciate what you do for us.” “You came all the way out here, for us?” Things kids have said to me and I see the faces of those who said it. The words, the letters. The pictures. Heartfelt hugs. For me as a councilor that’s what I need. That’s all I need. And if I was gone things would keep going. We’re not a mousetrap, we’re a Force, an Entity outside of normal means. I’m a consciousness within that Amazing Force. Without me it IS changed. When one councilor is gone, the Entity is changed. Because That Person Mattered.

I understand that better now. I Matter. So Do You.

[oneladydracor]

Manipulated Goodbyes

11/14/16  Trigger Warning: Abuse

My Coworker is having trouble with his partner. They have a kid together. He's a sweet person, at least the impression and feeling that I get from him. If a bit strongly a "fake-it-till-you-make-it" kind of guy. I feel for him, and relate to the things we've talked about.

The biggest thing is what I will call the "Revolving-Door-Relationship" the RDR. People see them time to time. The people that experience this...you'll understand...If you've only seen it...I hope I can teach you something. RDRs can be found in any kind of relationship. Friendship, Family, Romantic/sexual, ect. While the definition varies a little for each type of relationship the general catch all is that it is a form of Manipulation/control. It's Abuse in various degrees and spans the spectrum of abuse. For myself, it was the Rom definition. They threaten to leave you, or some cases "actually leave" but keep your leash pulled tight (Some call this "taking a break".) Telling you that you are capable of having them back if X, Y, Z. They convince you, often times, that it's your fault and that you have to be the one to make it right. God help you if you accept that they have left and try to move on. You're not allowed to leave, only they are. That's a key part of RDRs. You're the center Axis, you can't move. Only your partner can.

I was in an Abusive relationship. I've established that before. I am open about it now. It was an RDR amid other things. My Coworker sounds a lot like me, and it concerns me. Especially with his response to it, now. RDRs are traumatic, they are that way of making you think you are truly losing something and someone important. That if you lose that person you will have lost everything you ever needed or wanted. Mine went on for nearly Four Years. To the point where I was even Engaged, because accepting the engagement was what I thought could save the relationship and bring us closer. When it reality it would have been a stronger collar and sealed my future in a cage. Effectively killing me, if she didn't Literally do it herself down the road. (God knows she had tried, casually.) How many times that relationship "stopped" because she "left me." We were both "single" and to hurt me she'd talk about people she found attractive, and would sleep with. She never did, but that was part of what this relationship was when it "didn't exist." She would put this show on of when we were no longer a thing. The theatrics, the tantrums, the beating, The Goodbye. There was always a Goodbye at some point. Like I was leaving out the door. And of all things that was the cherry on top. It always came.

Now, nearly a decade later I am still effected in many, many sad, painful, lonely ways. I don't believe goodbyes. I don't get hurt by the thought of them anymore. By the threat of them. It almost means nothing. Even if it isn't said, in the back of my head when I am going somewhere and I wont see someone I care about for a while I hear "Goodbye." But it doesn't get filled with tears. It's absence. I somewhat check out, mentally. My Mate was visiting with me. I had taken him back to the airport, and I was heart crushingly Sad. Distantly so. Because I grasped that it was not permanent. This has happened multiple times and as a result I look almost cheery, plucky, uncaring. "What's the point" I thought "Of showing I'm sad when I'm just empty? He'll be back. Or I will be. I'll miss him when he's gone, my heart aches..." But there's that hole. There's that hole...I can't feel the emotions of the moment, the actual pain-of-the-moment. The Love and Hope and Hurt of separating. I'm aware of them, I WANT them, the little part of me that was locked away in self preservation knows them...but I don't feel them anymore with the whole of me. My Emotions were withered, much as I want to and try to feel those things. It makes me afraid I've turned Sociopath.

So in the last decade I have been in two RDRs and now I cant buy into the tears when someone says they will miss me, says goodbye, be safe. I just think they must want something, making a show of saying goodbye to me. This spans the board of my relationships. My Blood Family, the Family I adopted, my friendships, my Romantic Relationship with my partner.

This has stuck to me and with me and it's crossed into how I perceive the permanence of Persons in my life. I assume, somewhere inside this fucked up mind, that everyone will leave at some point if I don't first. But you'll all come back when you have need/want of me. Because you were never really gone. Or I never was. This is the hard to explain part. It's not a lack of love, or lack of actual care for you as a person. It's a lack of fundamental trust in you sticking to your word that you chose to abandon me. It means that anytime I perceive there to be an argument of some sort between us, or that you are angry and upset with me, you are going to "leave." We aren't friends anymore. My Partner breaking up with me. My Family Hurting me/shunning/icing out. And that's normal thinking for me. It means I wont try to stop you. Or "fix the problem" or look upset when this should be a traumatic experience. It means later I'll beat myself up, and loath myself more because the emotions flood in when you're not actually present and I accept that you/I really aren't in physical contact and the response of emotion was okay to have.

I'm withered of Goodbye. I don't know how to explain it well on my own. Because it's a tangled mess of repetition and as many know "Hell is Repetition." But eventually you can stop feeling anything because of it. I lost the unique feeling of what Goodbyes are because it was used to hurt and control me. It's a loss, and distortion, I wish could be fixed, but may never be.

[oneladydracor]

I’m super excited because Lifemate is coming to visit!

They’ll be here on Tuesday and I just CANT WAIT TO SEE THEM AND KISS THEIR FAAAAAACCCCCEEEEEEE AND GIVE ALL OF THE HUGS. (happy puppy dance) Makes me act like a goofy puppy instead of a proper adult but I just can’t help it!

Kinfolk apt +1 again. Heeeeeeee

Because Gifs can portray my feels on various levels of how I feel vs how I’ll act.

[oneladydracor]

Shada Septem has fallen.

(Flight Rising Story)

Dels, of the Shada Septem of the Shadow Flight is gone. The SS itself is gone, as far as anyone might know. Internal conflict tore apart the Clan. Raissa replaced. Kishi uncaring. The Seven being killed off. The Nocturn slowly enveloping everything and everyone...Rhodizite and his once-son, Subject abducting others and talking to Greywind of the BlightEaters.

Shada Septem is Gone. At least...as far as anyone who knew them was concerned. Some within knew what was coming and took precautions.

“I-” Feathers, everywhere. Beige and Splash, their sizes varied. Blowing in the hot dry air. Swirling in dust devils. They’re falling off like rain.  “-ghtGuide...?” He reaches for what he thinks he sees. Feeling small and weak. Lost. “Messenger...Septem...war.” His words are disjointed and he knows he makes no sense. Dehydrated, injured. I’m dying.

He struggles harder to reach the Clan of BlightEaters. His Hatching Clan. To warn them and seek help from the Doctor. He feels lighter. Small.

Collapsed in a pile of feathers, the Coatl curls up and loses consciousness.

Ramsey, Mate of his son Lyre was feared by some of the less behaved of the Shada Septem. She was known as a Witch, if she looked in your eyes she could see what you were hiding. It did not take much to see what was coming though. She wanted to save them. Her Family. Her Master, Dels. She was called a Witch, and a Witch she was. She threw an enchantment on Dels, hoping to cloak him. To change him and hide him from the Nocture of SS.

He would survive. She willed it. Hoped it. For them all.

He would change but he would not forget. Dels, Master of the Kryss Shada. Rising Master of the Shada Septem. Survive.

What she did not account for is the attack. Subject, Plaything and monster of Rhodizite tore through the Kryss. Fighting Cordelia and Adopted Brother Superbia. Scales and blood spattering the dark ground, staining darker the darkness of their home. “HAIL!” But Hail is not here. He’s doing his duty elsewhere...

The Kryss would fight. Dels is their Protector, their Leader. But Subject was not alone. Subyekt, Petra, Smaragdus, the Unnamed Children of Clanless slip through the shadows. Small and quick, they distract while the mindless beasts did their work. This was not the quiet work of the Clanless. This was ruthless Uprising. A coup-de-tet. Subject and Dels roiled in the dirt, the giant batlike wings of the monster enveloping Del’s head. Trying to choke the air from him. But the ensnared Coatl fought harder. Wings flared he took flight, heavily launching blind. Overhead the thick latticework of branches, unforgiving to wings, waited hungry...and Dels did not disappoint. The fighting pair slammed into a heavy branch higher overhead. Crashing though it and coming down, a tangle of limbs and actual branches. The land is not gentle...

Dels struggles to rise, shoving the branch off him. The broken body of Subject spasms and snaps beside him. Falling flat Dels can feel it. Blood. Baring teeth he lunges at the monstrosity and shakes it between his teeth. Strength born of fear and anger cloud his thoughts at letting this thing so close to his throat once more. As he flings the broken body away it manages a connecting kick, digging deep into the meat of Dels neck, fountaining blood.

He’s not sure when he started running. Or who he was running with. Someone was by him, encouraging, supporting. One of his Kryss, her scales staining with his blood. The mirror he’d recently met who seemed so familiar...Anoki was her name. He did not know that it was her...or that she was the real Raissa. He never would.

She fell and failed to rise somewhere outside the tangled wood, away from the Shada. He kept going...he kept going...

“I will protect you. I promise.” The first words he heard, not even truly awake. Was he dreaming? No...maybe...A Guardian hovered over him. Took him up to her. The little Beige Fae curled in a pile of messy feathers and torn clothing. Whimpering and muttering words. Clearly not right in the head at that time.

“Shadows, Shadows...Seven Shadows, The Harbinger...I. Who?” He tried to talk, but those words barely got through. “Lights”

He knows. He knows he knows something, someone, many things. why am I here? “Do not worry, little Fae.” “Who?” He struggles to hum, his throat is raw. He can only speak, small and squeaking. “I have no name. I know I protect you. We’re going where you can heal.”

He’s aware they are moving. Away from the Wyrmwound, away from the Plague lands, his birth home. Too many thoughts go through his head. He cant sort anything out. Fever taken he’s losing what hes trying to grip, to remember. “Ward. Warden. Warden of me.” He manages, petting the scales of the Guardian’s neck. “Warden I will be.” She responds quietly.

They retreat to the land of the Gladekeeper, in hope of breathing fresher air. Of healing away from the Wyrmwound. Their veins may hold resilience but nothing lasts forever. And the new disease had taken much. Clearly it had taken the Fae’s Clan.

Warden is his clan now. They have not settled anywhere yet in the labyrinth. She’s come to understand the Fae. He speaks like a Coatl, or tries to. Once he may have been, before his sickness. The feather he was curled in, which she kept, looks like a Coatl feather. He suffers night terrors, and in them speaks of Nocturn and Monsters. Though these months, like his Health, that has improved. Shadows make him Jumpy. Occasionally he thinks she’s a different color, or calls her by strange names. Names she knows he knew before. But the Fever messed up his mind. He did not know his name. He said he was born and given without a name. That he was simply Chosen Son. So she named him, as he did her. She called him Samen. Little Seed.

Together, Seed and Watcher walk. Hoping to remember.

[oneladydracor]

You Aren’t Your Reflection

9/10/16

This one was on FB orginally and I meant to put it here too. That took longer than intended. Pictures included.

It's been rough lately. I have two jobs to make sure I keep up with rent and bills. Which makes it hard to maintain home. Which means I'm not eating right. I don't have the spoons/energy to cook healthy, delicious stuff. I have severe down moments. Today in the shower I thought about that. Yesterday I decided today would be better (And it is).

This year is a milestone. I count each of them like pebbles dropped through the cinch of the hourglass. There is a lot of good, and a lot of bad.

This past year's camp, 2016, was my 7th year as a councilor, second as Head of House. This year is my Seventh year of Freedom and Recovery from a bad abusive relationship I had the courage to leave. This year, a month ago, is the third year I stepped away from the second abuser and said 'I will love myself.' This month I've been with STAR center's Playground for a year and seven months on the nose. November 25th, 2016 will be the celebration of not just Thanksgiving, but my moving to Washington two years ago. This year in April was a year with the Person I have always loved, and loves me in return.

Today in the shower I thought... I've never seen myself. A reflection isn't me. It isn't you. We Never See Ourselves. We see what we expect to see, what society expects us to see. We see a stranger with which we are so distantly intimate that we believe that entity in the reflection is who we really are. But it's wrong.

When I feel down, hurt, unloved, alone...I have reminders that I'm not that reflection. The pictures you see are notes, mostly from campers (Drawings on my wall are mostly from Work, and my Door is a mix.) This isn't even all of them, even older ones are kept away safe so they dont get damaged. These are a few. They stay in the secret pocket of the backpack I carry with me almost every day.

At camp this year I pulled these out because I mentioned one of them in regards to the topic at hand. One by one at lunch with my older campers around me I unfolded letters and pictures and said who they were from, when they were from. Until, like some great comical punchline, I got to the last one and unfolded it showing what I was looking for. My students were dumbfounded that I had these, that I remembered, that I CARED that much. I explained to them WHY. Roughly this is what I said. "Real Talk, we come here every year, I've come all the way from Washington State twice now. I almost didn't make it this year. Puck helped me get here. He's amazing. This place, you guys, mean the world to me. And I keep everything you give me." I gestured to these mementos as I carefully folded them back up and tucked them away. "I carry them with me Every. Single. Day. Because it reminds me that I am loved. I have pictures on my wall from camp and work. At work I talk about my camp students and how great you all are. Sure we're tired but it's worth it. You all remind me of that without being physically present every day."

They were teary, I was teary. It was a heart felt moment for us. They realized in that moment that I really and truly was a person, and I'd like to think they realized that they truly had an impact on my life as I have on theirs. Their sense of wonder clear on their faces that I had these things. That I could so easily recall the times they came from. That's what it is to be Loved. They were not seeing what I see every day I look in the mirror. Those teens saw a real me. They aren't the only ones...

"You speak as though everything you say is recited from a book." "Tris I love to listen to you talk, I learn something new every day I didn't know I wanted to know." "I can see you have dance in you. I can just tell." "You're an angel. You're my angel. God put you here to help me." "You're kind hearted, thank you!" "Let me pay you back! Please!"--"No, it's okay. People have helped me when I needed help." "How did you know I needed that?" "Oh god I've missed you!" {Grateful crying}"Oh god can I hug you? Thank you SO MUCH." "You look great today!" "Bonita, very pretty eyes!" [gestures to his own] "Beautiful!" "You dont have to do that."--"But I want to. I am anyway."

Every day people see the truth over my self viewed reflection. They show me who I am, what I am. They tell me in little ways. With smiles, laughs, a genuine word of praise and admiration, Letters, pictures, hugs.

After all these years...I really am coming to realize that. Slowly I'm pulling together the pieces from what people say and I'm seeing the real me. Not just the me I think I see.

I'm learning to love me. And be the Person you see in me.

[oneladydracor]

You’re Teaching me, Teaching You.

10/18/16 This is a long post but like all of my winding anecdotes it contains a lesson.

Today is Tuesday. Tuesdays are the busiest days at STAR center in Treetops. Some of the children who come in are...problematic. I don't look at them with dejection, giving up on them being problem children which are not our job in the staff to correct. I look at them with something like hope (and frustration, yes) but the feeling is "How can I help you?"I've seen hope in children I've talked with and Listened to. Listening was important. I heard them, and Sympathized. I allowed them to tell an adult that they did not feel okay. Even if that thing was trivial to me it means a lot to that child. They haven't been through what I have, so that trial is a big deal for them. Some I have given little things, lessons in crafts, or silly sayings that they keep. I see it now and again. I hear the words repeated. It meant something to them and in a few cases I saw them giving that to others. Spreading the care and Hope.

Tuesdays. I'm tired, and it's been a gauntlet. I want rest. I'm sick, I'm sore, I'm hungry, it's raining.BUT It's not their fault. It's Tuesday. Busiest day of the week. Most of our difficult children seem to come in on Tuesdays.The Staff like to color in the slow time, and there have always been crayons for the kids. Being the child that I am I have coloring books and brought them in to copy pages. A book of Dragons that my housemate has by one of my favorite artists (Neondragon) was a good choice. Those pictures are more of a challenge. So I borrowed it and copied them and brought in my Color pencils. The pictures grew numerous. Covering the wall, displaying kids art and the Staff's. We have more access to tools. So with white out I altered lines and made monsters of cute animals. Made Rock Star Pokemon. Made so many things...and that did not escape the notice of children...

It's Tuesday. It's become a Tuesday evening ritual to color. First we all just colored together. Then they got wise of who did certain pictures and saw me "in action." First they watched. These certain boys who have energy in spades and often called out for misbehaving. They recognize my car now and get excited when they see I'm here (so their mother told me.) Then they asked if I could do certain colors. Certain ways. They wanted 'Tris Made Pictures.' They watched with rapt attention. Then...they wanted to KNOW. Especially one...

So Tuesdays... Sometimes I bring in my color pencils. Sometimes my nicer crayons with the sharpener in the back. Sometimes I only use a pen.I color, I show them how I make my color pallet choice, and how I arrange them. The backs of my color pages are scribbled with rainbows of shades.The one has had a hard time lately. His mother told me one day he was having a particularly rough day. We sat and colored, I showed him the blending I do to make the blue become green. I asked him how he felt. And he told me. I listened, I explained what I thought they other adults saw, but I told him that I believed him. The small open smile on his face meant a lot.He's a twin, the smaller of the two. Every Tuesday we sit together and I show him new things I know about art, how I color, the patterns I made. The things around me making cool textures. He loves it.He seems to trust and respect me a lot now. I even hazard a guess he admires me as an adult figure.

It's important to know I don't consider myself an artist with drawing. My friends certainly are. My art/craft style is as I have been told by a coworker "beautiful, uncontrolled spontaneity." I learned some art from my friends, watching them. So I share this.I found my old notebook full of art I'd done in high school. I decided that I wanted to show them because I wanted them to understand that lines are not important. They guide, they are not the rules. (like my line altering before) I wanted to show them that art gets better as long as you keep trying and don't give up. No one is good out the gate.

So now, It's Tuesday. I brought in my Binder and my color pencils. I waited, and there they came. They come every Tuesday, these boys. And as per our new routine the smaller twin takes a pen and a picture and starts to add to it the little details he wants to. I tell him I have a new picture today, it's harder. He wanted to see it so I showed it to him. He recognized that it's a difficult picture and he can't do it how he would like so I should color it. I responded with "I already am." Naturally he wanted to see. They want to see everything I do. I brought my binder to show him. Because I had it the others gathered around. A few more followed. Children of various levels of behavior. Fascinated at what an adult had to share. Children, critical, blunt creatures. I prepared myself for vexation and question of shape, color, style. Instead they loved everything I showed them. Everything I had done looked amazing to them for one reason or another. There was not a mote of criticism from these very VERY critical boys. I have heard their less than friendly opinions before about things and people. Not one negative thing. I hadn't counted on that, and it humbled me. They saw what I had done with fresh eyes. To them what I had done was as good as NeonDragon's work that they have been coloring. And that was beautiful for me to experience. Now they wanted to know how to draw what I drew. Especially the smaller twin. He adamantly wanted me to teach him how. I tried my best to explain that it's about finding how you do it, and just practicing. I drew a turtle like how I used to as a child, then quickly sketched out in crayon how I do it now. BOOM. AMAZEMENT. I settled on teaching them how to draw the face of a raptor. Two kids were trying to draw with me, while the taller twin watched. Another child drew a monster he created himself. Which I was proud to have him share with me.

In the end of our sudden drawing session when his mom came we'd drawn raptor faces and he had done rather well. It made me feel happy that he proudly showed his mother and she praised his work. The thanks she's given me for being me is so sincere. When really, I'm just being me I don’t know how to be anyone else. But I appreciate that I'm appreciated and make a difference. They showed me that what I did was good for that time. It never STOPPED being good, I just got better and made better art. And now hopefully so will they.

[oneladydracor]

Keys and Roots

I made this blog years and years ago now at some peer pressure as a means of helping in my self reflection and to share writing. Over the years I lost the sense of what this blog had been for. It became a miss-mash of random things I liked, sure. But the purpose of my content became lost.

I wanted to share stories, both fiction I have written and day to day life things/remembrances/thoughts that I can divulge a lesson from. I want to return to my base. But I wont lose everything from then up to this point. It’s still part of my journey, even if it’s largely frivolous. I can pull from it secrets of my feelings until the now.

The point was never for me to write for Other People aside from short stories. The point was for me to reflect. So if folks read what I write in my entries, and take something from it well...that’s a positive bonus for me. But I don't expect it, and I don't need it to Validate who I am.

That being said, the first entry of return is Keys and Roots. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I drive my housemate to work, I pick her up. Today however as I came home and hung up my keys I just sort of looked at them for a while. This time I’ve spent in Washington hasn’t been long, Nearly a year and a half now. But in this space of time a lot has changed in my life. Little things though stayed the same.

My Keys hang on a lanyard like most folks have, depicting something of their interests or stating a stance on some subject. Mine isn’t any different really. I have a Baltimore Ravens Lanyard. Even though I do not care for football in the slightest.

I carried this Lanyard out of Maryland. Having bought it to pester Seahawks fans that I encountered. Over the year I have removed my keys, carried just them or put them on another keychain. But I’ve continued to return to the Ravens Lanyard. I realized as I looked at my keys hanging on their peg that I always would return to this Lanyard. Not out of a pride for the Ravens. As I said I do not really care for football. I’d return because it came from Home.

The place my Mate/Best Friend is, where my Brothers are. Where I was first truly familiar with a place. And always would be, even if some things changed. My footprints are there in the soil. My laughter is ringing amid the rocks of the mountains. At this point in my life most of my memory is there. My “impressionable years” are found back in Maryland, home of the Baltimore Ravens and Orioles. Bird Country. And of all things I chose to take out of Maryland that held home it was the keys on their lanyard. That says a lot about who I am. To me anyway. It says that no matter how far I go, I know where I can return to. Even if I am not fond of it, or certain people there. I can return to where I came from. I give myself a license to, by putting keys in my hands.

There are other things I still have linked to birth/home state. My car tags, my bank, a paper trail, blood. cards of various places. But they dont leave the impression that my keys have.

They truly are the Keys to my Roots, in finding myself. And making myself be better. I cant forget where I came from. But I use it to build a better ‘where I am.’