To many people artists seem / undisciplined and lawless. / Such laziness, with such great gifts, / seems little short of crime. / One mystery is how they make / the things they make so flawless; / another, what they’re doing with / their energy and time. – Twin Mystery, by Piet Hein, poet and scientist (1905-1996)

What’s the difference between an artist and a craftsperson? A craftsperson gets paid *before* they die.

I’ve been busy of late, as I’m sure is obvious from my lack of posts. Sometimes it’s difficult to post because every minute my hands are on the keyboard means my hands are NOT on my crochet hook. I just recently finished up an entry for Threadknits (more on this later) that I hope will do well. Currently I’m working on a Seth and an Anubis from Egyptian mythology, also a commission based on Anubis. This weekend I hope to finish up Pyramid Head’s knife (yes, the never-ending commission Pyramid Head), slap some red paint on him and his “victim”, take pictures and get him off to his new happy home.

I’ve decided to start getting up at 7AM in the hopes of getting more done. No more lazy mornings, no more snooze button — all an attempt to get more done and finish some commissions that need doing. Hopefully some pictures soon.

Also, I’ve updated my etsy shop with a lot of dolls that I’ve wanted to sell. Give it a look, if you will.

Tags: courage, crochet, Egyptian Gods, gonzo, pyramid head, sleep

I’ve decided that every Tuesday I’m going to go back and reread an issue of Transmetropolitan. It seems appropriate, what with my stream of brain medications and my endless frustration with the planet. If you’ve not read Transmet you need to, even if you’re not perhaps fans of comic books. It rocks the world. Think Hunter S. Thompson in a crazy future with more exciting drugs and more interesting weapons, bringing the light (and the chairleg) of TRUTH into the City.

Issue 06 – God Riding Shotgun

I’m going outside the damn house today. You may begin your applause now.

There’s a great quote here but it’s redacted for not being at all in anyway worksafe.

My get up and go has got up and went. Can I get back in bed now?

Tags: gonzo, sleep, Spider Jerusalem, transmet

I was poisoned on Thanksgiving. I’ve been utterly sick and completely useless for at least six days because of this. I was given something contaminated with gluten, and I went through a pretty decent Hell because of it.

Thursday, day 1: Within 5 minutes of eating the contaminated food I was nauseated, cramping, and having brainfog and overall numbness. My fine motor skills were entirely shot and I was shaking so hard you could hear it in my voice. I couldn’t think to save my life; I spent the rest of the day on the couch under a blanket, playing easy DS games and watching mindless DVDs.

Friday, day 2 of severe glutenation: Nausea, migraine, shaking, stomach pain, fatigue and muscle weakness. Also, some paranoia. I was on my feet a total of eight times that day — once from the bed to the couch, three restroom trips, and once back to the bed from the couch.. It’s a short walk that took me about 5 minutes each way; my legs were so weak I can barely stand.

I could not drive, or walk, or stand up for an extended period. Early in the day I could not even hold a crochet hook because my wrists and arms hurt so badly.

Saturday, day 3: Still nauseated, weak and tired. I remember that this was the first day I was even strong enough to sit up unaided or without being propped up by pillows. That stunning achievement was reached midday, for several minutes at a time.

I was not able to walk or drive for any length of time. Thank gods a good friend of ours was able to come by and take the husband out to get groceries and other needful things for us.

Sunday, day 4: Still flu-like symptoms, short temper, still very weak. I did however have the strength (by the end of the day) to stand up long enough to take my first shower since the glutening. If you do the math, it’s not pretty.

Monday, day 5: My immune system and digestive tract are fired. Woke up sore all over; weak and in pain. I went to my doctor who made soothing noises (she is a joy and a comfort) and gave me steroids to stop the over-reactive immune response. My herbalist (also a joy and a comfort) gave me oregano to prevent a fungal infection — steroids have that effect sometimes — and peppermint oil for my ongoing nausea. All the driving nearly did me in, however. Went to bed early and happy about it.

Tuesday, day 6: Stuffed full of steroids. About 60% back to “normal”. Head hurt, thoughts racing, and crying jags like whoa. Fun! I think I made the right decision to stay home, no matter how worried about money I am. When a scene from “Death to Smoochy” makes me tear up, I’m in no condition to deal with the outside world.

Wednesday, day 7: Went to work, like the brave little toaster I am. Still pretty sore. Pretty nauseated (but the peppermint oil does certainly help). My head does weird things if I move it too quickly. I’m tired and I have no appetite — probably for the good.

All this peppermint is making me want Mint Chocolate ice cream, though.

It sounds so incredibly simple and trite when I write it all out like this. Nothing can describe a full week of feeling like I’m in a tumble-dryer full of rocks for hours on end.

And I can’t do this anymore. Luckily I will get paid for the holiday, but missing 3 days of work is a substantial amount and I can’t afford repeats of this happy little adventure. I’ve got to keep my food safely under my control. If that means not eating with family or not eating out at restaurants or not eating at work functions or parties with friends… then so be it. Any amount of transient personal embarrassment or even a little hardship between me and other people not as supportive of my condition is worth it rather than face a week of hell and another 4-7 days of discomfort.

I’m amazed that some people think that celiacs are doing this “just for attention”. I would like to give such ignorant savages some attention in return.

With a baseball bat. For a few hours.

Tags: crochet, gluten, illness, life, sleep

For starters, nothing is louder than two cats with an empty food bowl. They’ll amuse themselves for ages waiting for someone to bring the food. Doing things like using chainsaws, running into furniture at top speed (repeatedly; I guess it’s fun for them), knocking things over, finding the one cat toy with a bell in it that you’ve forgotten to confiscate and carrying it through the apartment at a trot, turning into small elephants and chasing each other around the room, etc.

Even after you feed them, however, they now KNOW that you’re awake. So now it’s time for them to start caterwauling at the door (what? You’re an INSIDE CAT. You go outside on a HARNESS. And you’ve never been outside in any way at 5 FREAKING AM. What play date are YOU missing?), eating at high volume (CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH), cat-fighting for fun and profit, or scratching at any one of a thousand exciting objects including:

They’ve gone suspiciously silent now. I can’t see them in the darkness beyond my laptop screen. They may currently be plotting my doom.

Secondly, there’s nothing ON at 5 AM. Not even HBO has anything good. Every single channel is either infomercials or cartoons… which says a lot about what television thinks of the intelligence of the average insomniac. We must be easily amused or easily persuaded into buying overpriced crap we don’t actually need from people who smile too much. Also note that most children’s cartoons now are simultaneously better drawn and worse drawn than the ones around when I was a kid.

Ahhh, I remember that halcyon time. Before the days of the internet, it was! If you wanted fanfiction, you had to write it yourself! And if you wanted to buy anything you had to leave the house and walk ten miles! Up a hill! Both ways!

And we were *proud* to have it!

And usually I think I have too many webpages I habitually read each morning. At 5 AM you discover there never is enough webpages. Some of them even go missing. Maybe they’re still in bed, where yours truly should be.

I’ve no idea when my body decided that six hours or less is an appropriate length of sleep.

Thirdly, a Crochet Lite H hook makes a very passable magic wand in a dark room.

Well, it’s 7 AM and the husband’s awake finally. Time to start the day. Wish me luck…

Tags: bless me yarn art, cats, courage, dusk, insomnia, midnight, sleep

I wish I had a flashlight.

If I had a flashlight, I could find my USB game controller and that way I could play Actraiser on my laptop. I wouldn’t have to turn on the light and risk waking the husband, who has a test tomorrow. I’ve got the actual Actraiser cartridge for SNES (around here in one of probably 20 boxes), but I would want to play it on emulation so I can cheat bawls off.

And I want to play Actraiser because I’ve got some of the music stuck in my head. I can’t remember if the song is from the Fillmore battle area or the Bloodpool battle area or even the very last battle area. But it’s driving and pretty, in only the way a Japanese 16 bit midi can be.

There’s just simply no way to play Actraiser without the controller, and the controller is in a tangled box of electronics and I have no flashlight. We used to have a small one that we kept beside the bed, but I don’t know where it went. And we used to have a big one that we kept under the bed, but it’s like 10,000 watts and I could flag down passing jets with it, so I would almost be less obnoxious by turning on the lights.

I *could* turn my laptop screen in the direction of the Box O’ Cords and try to navigate by its sterile yet comforting LED light. It’s a thought to be reserved.

There aren’t too many dolls to be made out of the Actraiser characters. There’s really only the Hero itself to
create. Hmm. Call this research?

*immediately goes to download screen captures of the hero*

Bad Vox. Add to the list of things you are Not Allowed to Make.

Hmm. Well, I could begin work on a personal project, due to the fact that I have an LED light-up crochet hook (NOW THAT’S GONZO!)… in fact, I might be able to use it as a flashlight.

Now there’s an interesting balance to find: should I play video games that I can’t use for design fodder, or should I crochet something that may take hours and bore me to tears (that being the voluminous petticoats of the Light Queen)?

Until I decide, I may just play solitaire and read a fan shrine to Actraiser.

Wow, Actraiser had some messed up monsters.

Now, let’s research medieval tapestries, being that I’ve wanted to do my own spin on them. Either make characters from tapestries into dolls, or make a crocheted tapestry (more on this later). Five minutes later, Google has given me more tapestries than I could ever work with in one lifetime — along with the dubious delights of Tapestry Masterpieces and Geoff. Chaucer as a private eye.

Your guess is as good as mine or probably better at this time of morning.

***

Another ten minutes pass; my solitaire game is sadly neglected. In the deep dark reaches of the night StumbleUpon is my best friend. The close dear friend that keeps me entertained and simultaneously lets me blame them for my lack of productivity.

Spent ten more minutes picking the perfect theme for my iGoogle page. We can go ahead and chalk that up to “rearranging workspace for greater ergonomic ease in use.” The Audubon Birds of Prey theme was beginning to bore me; I never saw them swoop on anything.

It’s 2:40 AM and I think my brain is melting.

*************

Here’s where the manuscript tapers off, with blurred references to eye-laser beams and “ladyfingers”. It’s best not to speculate on the final sanity of the subject.

Tags: actraiser, crochet, illness, insomnia, sleep

My psych, who is a lovely crusty old dame of about 70ish, gave me some meds and said “Take these if you have an anxiety attack or insomnia; but if you have to take them at work you’ll need to go home. They’ll knock you out.”

Yeah.

I’m beginning to believe she’s a mistress of understatement.

As in, I took it at 11PM one night, thinking it was supposed to be back out of my system in about 8-9 hours. I had my alarm set for 8. I wanted to get up and do work on the commissions in my oh-so-copious free time. Instead I was woken by my husband at 10 AM, who had to *shake me to get me to wake up*, and for the rest of the day I felt like someone had slipped me a ‘lude. Hard to get anything done when that happens. The only upside was that I had a ton of weird and vivid dreams. As it was, I spent all day in an utter fog, feeling as if I hadn’t slept at all.

Guess it’ll be the last time I mess with that. Being a fibromyte means that my sleep is a touchy and special thing. I need a specific type of sleep, and a certain length of sleep — and if I don’t get it, life is difficult and sad until I do.

Medicines have always hit me oddly. They gave me morphine in the emergency room once; I still don’t understand why some people take it for fun. It acid etched my veins before it knocked me unconscious. Thinking back I can still feel that awful sensation, in arteries I didn’t even realize I had. It was a frissioning boiling feeling, a very uncomfortable trip.

Percocet, however, has been a godsend for me. It’s the only thing that really cuts through the pain, with no side effects that I’ve been able to notice it. I can use it sparingly because it is effective. I don’t have to stack eight or twelve or even 16 ibuprophen and do some unknown amount of damage to my innards.

The biggest medication to affect me was Metformin. I was put on it because there was a possibility at the time that I had Poly-Cystic Ovarian Disease, or PCOD. My general practitioner let me know that there was a severe side effect called lactic acidosis but it was so rare that the likelihood of me getting it would be very small.

A week later I went back to my doc with a complaint of acute chest pain and all over muscle soreness. I asked my doc if there was a possibility of this being the rare side effect. They gave the answer of “Oh no, it’s much worse than this.”

Two months later and they were right — it *was* much worse!

Lactic acidosis is part of what happens to the body during the process of rigor mortis; in a way I was living and dead all at once. (A very novel feeling, but I do not suggest it to others.) It felt like my lungs and chest were turning to stone and set on fire and wrapped tightly in barbed wire at the same time. My muscles hurt all over; I was taking four and five percocet a day just to sit upright. But a day after stopping the Metformin, the symptoms began to fade and in four days they were gone.

Lactic acidosis has a hilarious fatality rate; I feel that I came very close to dying because of several misdiagnoses of the situation, and numerous doctors who failed to listen to me and my appraisal of my symptoms. Later that year I got a tattoo because of this experience — a human heart wrapped tight with barbed wire, with phoenix-wings of flame shooting from it. It got it out of my head and on to my skin, where I didn’t have to think about it so often.

Saint Cloth says that tattoos fade; I hope this one does.

Ever had a medication give you a higher effect than you were told it would, or a horrific side effect that causes you harm?

Tags: courage, dead, illness, medication, medicines, sleep

I heard somewhere on the intarwebs that DST started as a joke by Benjamin Franklin. I think I can believe that, knowing the brilliant old rake had a biting and subtle sense of humor. As someone with Fibromyalgia, I absolutely despise Springing Forward — but oh, how I love to Fall Back!

The week before springing forward holds serious dread for me. I’m about to lose a precious, precious hour of sleep, and it will be darker when I wake up, which makes it more difficult for me TO wake up. And for the week after springing forward I walk around like a zombie, always wanting to go to bed one hour later than I do; always needing to sleep one hour longer than I will. Eventually I get used to the modified schedule, my body adjusts to the different sleep hours, and life goes on. I’ve always meant to do what has been suggested by various Fibro websites, which is to adjust my sleep time by 15 minutes every night for 4-5 days before DST but frankly I’m just not that organized when it comes to sleep and I wind up paying the price.

I couldn’t wait to fall back this time around. I’m beginning to believe I may have a touch of seasonal affective disorder — getting out of bed while the sky is dark seems almost impossible. I actually felt well rested on Sunday morning when I woke up and the sky was bright; since then it’s been easy to go to sleep at night (what with feeling like it’s later than it actually is) and then when I wake up the sun is shining through the curtains and is helping to burn away the sleepies of the night.

In Gluten-Free Triumph News, I tried a new GF food today that actually TASTED like what it was supposed to be. I’ve got a box of Kinnikinnick GF glazed donuts in the freezer and heated one up in the microwave and it was heavenly. Very spongy, and the glazing was perfect. Made me actually crave funnel cake, which I haven’t had since I went GF. We may have to work out a recipe.

Here’s what I’m *nominally* working on, all at once:

Pyramid Head
Bronx
SOMETHINGVERYPINK
Anubis
Set
Isis
Light Rook
Several quilt squares
A beautiful granny square jacket (for a change!)
An afghan for myself for the couch.

And here’s hoping I can finish up more commissions this weekend, in between doing some overtime for the RealJob(TM) and driving the husband to his weekly dose of swordfighting.

Tags: commissions, fibro, food, gluten, illness, life, sleep