Some days just don't go as planned. But I'm sure you probably already know this. 'The best laid plans' and all. Not too long ago I had one of those days that didn't play out exactly the way I'd anticipated. That seems to happen to me a lot. . . But I suppose this time it really could have been worse, all things considered. After all, I did learn quite a few interesting things, plus I even ended up meeting. . .  well, I think I'm getting ahead of myself. I suppose I should start near the beginning. That does seem a good place to start, right?

So, it was a few weeks ago, and here's what happened:

Sitting in the incredibly uncomfortable wooden chair in the library's study room, I flipped my old phone shut. I'd just gotten a text message from the tutee I was supposed to be meeting.

"Slept thru alarm. Will be late. So sry!"

I folded my arms on the table and dropped my head down, letting it rest on my forearms. Listening to the rain crashing down mercilessly on the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, I thought about how much I would have preferred to stay in bed this gloomy morning instead of driving all the way down here to meet a student for some extra study time. I would probably have been really upset at the fact that they had the audacity to be late if I hadn't been so tired. But there was something about sitting alone, in an empty library, on a cold, rainy day, early in the morning, that just took all the fight right out of me. In fact, it pretty much took all the energy out of me period.

"This really kind of bites." I muttered into my arm.

"It can't be that bad."

I whipped my head up off the desk, searching out the source of the voice. I was sure the room had been empty and I was alone.

"I mean, you're in a library for crying out loud. This is like, the coolest place to be. Besides a beach in Maui anyway."

I scanned the big room but saw no other person. I rubbed my eyes and looked around again.

"Yoohoo, over here. Yep, this way, right here."

Following the sound, finally I spotted who was talking. Sitting across from me at the edge of the table was a small brown turtle.

"Yo." he said casually, briefly waving to me. I blinked at him, mainly because I really wasn't sure what else to do. "Um. Hi." I said tentatively."

"Hi." he replied. "I'm Shy."

"Really? Never would've guess." I mumbled, a bit surprised I was managing to speak. "I am too, actually."

"What?"

"Shy."

"Yes?"

"Huh?"

"Yeah, I never get tired of that joke." he chuckled. "Seriously, though, my name is 'Shy'." he said smiling.

"Ah. I see. Well, nice to meet you." I wasn't sure if I meant it or not, but it was really all I could think to say at the moment.

"I'm sure you're wondering more about me." he said. I opened my mouth, all ready to tell him that yes, I was wondering something, but it was really more along the lines of my mental health and it's somewhat frightening current state. But before I had the chance to say anything, some kind of heroic and histrionic music began streaming out from somewhere. "I am the Tortoise of All Knowing." he said dramatically, standing tall (at least as tall as a six-inch tortoise can stand) puffing up with pride. He posed like that for a minute, as if he were waiting for a crazed group of paparazzi to snap photos left and right of such an honorable and glorious figure.

"Turtle of All Knowing, huh?" I asked skeptically once the music and posing stopped.

"Tortoise. Tortoise of All Knowing. Yes. Go ahead, ask me anything." he replied, gamely.

"Okay." I said, figuring what the heck, I'll play along. "What's the meaning of life?"

"What, you've never heard of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy?"

"Fair enough."

"Go on, ask something else." he said eagerly.

"All right." I said, trying to think of a question. After a minute I figured I had something worth asking: "Okay, so I know turtles live near the ocean and stuff, but what's the deal with tortoises? I mean, what's the real difference between you two?"

"Well there's a deep question." he said sarcastically.

"Deep. Hah. I get it. Turtles, the ocean, deep." I replied drily.

"Hm, thouché" he replied. "All right, well, there are four major difference between turtles and tortoises," he began. "(1) Turtles primarily live in water while tortoises live almost exclusively on land."

"Yep, knew that." I interrupted.

"Hey, who's the Tortoise of All Knowing here?" he said eying me.

"Sorry. Please continue." I said, putting on my best "I'm highly interested in what you're talking about" face and hiding a small, amused smile.

"Okay then. (2) turtles can be omnivorous whereas tortoises are herbivorous. And (3) Turtles can migrate from one place to another, but tortoises tend to stay in one area."

"You said there were four differences."

"Yes, and (4) tortoises are much snappier dressers than turtles." he did a neat little 360 on the table, showing off his bronze colored shell. "See what I mean?" he said suavely, raising a nonexistent eyebrow in a mock come-hither kind of way.

I couldn't help but laugh at that, and immediately he joined in with me, our brief laughter undoubtedly being the loudest – and oddest – noise the room had ever suffered. At this point I decided to completely set aside the bundle of thoughts crowding my head – such as Okay, where did this tortoise come from, How is it possible that he's talking to me, and Have I completely lost my mind. I'd already questioned my sanity enough throughout my life. I figured I'd just enjoy this, whether it be a mental breakdown or not.

"All right go for it. Ask me something else. The Tortoise of All Knowing is here to serve and amaze. Mostly amaze." On the surface he seemed just a bit hubristic and slightly sardonic, but I could tell he also had some kind of charm and a good, albeit slightly unusual, sense of humor. I considered it for a moment and realized those were all probably rare traits to find in a tortoise.

"I dunno. Surprise me." I said, genuinely unable to think of anything to ask.

"Ah phooey. That's no fun." he said, clearly feigning a pout. I began to realize that Shy seemed like the kind of little guy who would heckle you and playfully argue with you all day, a bit of a drama queen even, but really only in the best of ways.

I stifled a giggle, enjoying this little conversation more and more. "Oh but come on. This gives you a chance to show me how all-knowing you really are and truly amaze me by answering questions I never knew I had." I quipped, guessing that he'd respond well to a friendly tease.

"True." he replied thoughtfully, his big brown eyes gleaming, a smirk dancing around the corner of his small reptilian mouth. I had guessed right. He placed his little head on his hand, putting on a great thinker expression. "I bet you didn't know. . . "

He began telling me all sorts of things about shooting stars and amoeba and elephants and music and and trees and authors and pens and coffee and countries. Before I knew it twenty minutes had gone by.

"No way. How on earth do they do that? Wait, are you telling me you've actually seen a clam climb a tree?" I asked Shy, completely hanging off every word of his at this point.

"I swear!" he said, raising his hand and chuckling a bit at my astonishment. "There really are certain types of clams in the Caribbean that can actually climb trees. Of course a few of them don't, though. Fear of heights, you know."

I laughed at that and leaned back in my chair. As I sat there thinking about all the things I'd never thought about before, just about to ask Shy what else he could tell me, I was suddenly startled by a new voice that pierced the calm of the quiet library: "Sorry I'm late!" I looked over to see the student I was supposed to be meeting standing in the community room's open doorway. She looked completely frazzled, wild hair, wet from the rain, spewing out from a clip atop her head, jacket hanging sloppily from one shoulder, leaking books and papers everywhere. I jumped up out of my chair just in time to snatch her notebook from the air as it slid out of her arms. "Thanks!" she breathed, clearly out of breath, as if she'd run all the way here. "I'm really sorry to have kept you waiting." she apologized. Earlier I had been somewhat irked at her tardiness, but now I found I really didn't mind so much. "No worries," I replied. "I actually had someone to talk to." I gestured back to the table where Shy had been sitting. But when I looked, he was gone. In his place was a small, rectangular sheet of paper. I reached for it and found something had been quickly written down:

"Had to run. But now you know where to go next time you want to know something! – S"

I turned the note over and found that it was actually a bookmark with the library's hours of operation printed in bright bold letters. I smiled. "Cheeky little thing." I murmured. Putting the bookmark safely in my pocket, I took one last good look around the room to see if I could spot Shy anywhere. But the only life in the big room now was just me and my tutee. I decided it best that I not tell all about what had happened in the past half hour, and she didn't ask, so we sat down and got to work, finishing out the rest of the morning as had been planned.

I think deep down I know I'll never see the tortoise again. But every week since then I go back to the library and look, just in case. And while I'm there, I pick a random book off the shelf and read. That way, if I ever do come across the Tortoise of All Knowing again, I'll have something to tell him, too.

___________________________

My latest little story and pattern

Just a quick irked/befuddled journal.

#AmigurumiClub denied my "the Confused Owl" submission, (despite the fact that I checked and followed the rules and even have other, similar pieces displayed in the group) they did not tell me why, and then blocked me from the group altogether, so now I cannot even ask why!

I can't be the only one who finds this terribly rude.

Here are the Group Submission Rules:
"We accept all skill levels!"
"Please no blurry (motion blur), poorly lit (too dark), or cluttered (too much going on in the background) photos."
Do Not Include:
"big 100% opacity watermark or text on the amigurumi."
"Other distracting text around the amigurumi."
"Doodles/illustrations/Photoshop or of the like effects on or around the amigurumi."
"Fan Art Amigurumi: Please don't include the original artwork in your photo. (It's not allowed because it's copyrighted work.)"

Comparing these rules to my owl:

All skill levels accepeted - Okay, check.
Not blurry, check, not too dark, check, nothing going on in the background, check.
No watermark or text on ami, check.
No distracting text around ami (I note that there is text in the bottom right corner, naming the pattern and providing the link URL, however, several other pieces in this group show that this is permitted: [link] and [link] are just two examples, therefore I conclude that this type of text does not qualify as "distracting"), CHECK
Absolutely no doodles or Photoshop-like effects, CHECK
IS NOT FAN ART, CHECK

Thankfully, disgusted as I am with the actions of this sad group, I can laugh about it. I mean, I try to keep things in perspective, and in reality this is just a silly little group of kids showing off their toys. So it's nothing to get into too much of a funk over. But still, is courtesy really dead? Some communication -you know, along the lines of why my piece was declined and what I did to deserve being blocked - from this group would have been nice.

Taking in the fresh air, enjoying the scenery, letting your mind wander – sometimes there's just nothing better than going for a quiet walk, you know? I've gone on many a simple walk in the past. And I've learned that if you walk far enough, you can find yourself in a completely different world.

No, really.

In fact, that's exactly what happened.

It's not often that I head out for a walk during January. Today, though, it was particularly sunny, and the air had just the right feel, and I was just the right kind of melancholy. So I bundled up and off I went.  I had no destination, no planned route. As was my habit on these little voyages I simply walked around, letting my feet decide where to take me. Soon enough my mind started to drift, and I was hardly even aware of my surroundings. In fact, I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts, I didn't realize where I was until I was already there. . .

At some point I turned down a street completely canopied by trees. Living in a town nestled at the base of a mountain meant seeing several trees - especially ones lining quiet, back roads perfect for my long, simple walks - was quite commonplace. But somewhere in the back of my mind I felt there was something very different about these trees. In fact, soon everything began to feel different. But I couldn't quite nail down what it was that made everything seem so odd to me, so I paid little attention and simply kept going, my mind wandering completely freely. I only barely noticed that the road I was on started to narrow and seemed to be a lot less traveled than most of the roads in my neighborhood. Still, I continued walking, more lost in my thoughts than anyone has ever been, I dare say. Suddenly the brightest purple I'd ever seen crept into my vision and started to take me away from my silly random ideas about clouds and pi and whatnot. Up ahead and to my right I spotted a beautiful bed of the brightest colored tulips I'd ever seen resting along the road. Striking yellow, purple, red, and orange flowers sprang up from lush green grass, gently swaying in the soft breeze. I let my thoughts turn to them, now, and began to think about how much I loved tulips and how odd it was to see them this time of year.

That's when I stopped. I finally looked around.

It was January and where I lived that meant seeing cold, ice, snow, and lots of it. But as I peered around now, no trace of winter could be found. It looked like I stepped out of my frost-bitten world and right into a story-book illustration. The neighborhood street I thought I had been walking on was now nowhere in sight. Instead, I stood in the middle of a small dirt path that seemed to stretch on forever ahead and forever behind. It was surrounded by the amazingly tall trees I noticed earlier, but now I could see that they were capped with big, bright, green leaves.

I then realized why everything had seemed so different to me just a few minutes ago: it had been so long since I had seen warmth and colors, I suppose my brain just couldn't quite process it. Instead, it seemed as though I had felt the world around me change before I could really see it, and so I thought for a moment about how odd that fact was. But the moment for that thought swiftly ended and I turned my attention back to the increasingly lovely scenery.

Instead of being icy and snow-covered, the ground here boasted nothing but bright green grass, save the little dirt foot-path. Grand hedges and rows of the most beautiful flowers sprang up here and there. The sunlight shown through the canopy of leaves and seemed to make everything glow. Every color was brighter than I'd even seen. Even the dirt beneath my feet was a soft, warm brown-gold that almost shimmered in the light. The air was warm, too, and felt just like it did on the perfect summer day.

Now, normally, I suppose, when a person goes for a walk and expects to be in one place but ends up someplace completely different and totally foreign, panic and confusion would immediately set in. To my great surprise, though, this is not what happened. I do admit to being a touch confused, though. But I decided I would question how a person could start off on the streets of a cold, wintery city, walk for twenty minutes and somehow end up waltzing right into a warm, bright forest later. In that moment, the warm air, the lovely scenery, and the gorgeous colors covering all of it were much too inviting for me to worry about things making sense.

Figuring there was no sense in going backward, as new and interesting things can usually only be found by going forward, I continued walking again, this time letting my mind wander a little less. After all, if I ended up here, my mind must have wandered just the right amount. Any farther and who knows where I might find myself.

All around dozens more flowers dotted the path, their colors singing wonderfully. I breathed in their hues, and listened to their songs. I had never been anywhere so perfect.

Suddenly I heard something just ahead and to the left. As I walked closer I could almost make out a tiny, little voice. Not one to pass up an opportunity to meet someone new, and being very curious by nature, I approached the source of the sound and pushed aside some shrubbery to see who was talking, and to whom.

Behind the leaves and flora there was a small clearing, where the sun shown down like a warm, glittering spotlight. Standing primly on a flat, smooth rock was what appeared to be some kind of owl, although admittedly not any kind of owl I'd seen before. He was very little but plump. His big eyes took up most of his head, and his feathers shone in the brightest blue. Below him on the ground stood several more little owls, each a different bright color.

Marveling at what I saw, I stood there watching, unnoticed.

"All right, ready?" the blue owl asked. He began waving his wings like a conductor leading an orchestra "One, two three. . . "

As soon as he had finished saying "three" a little red owl sang out "Hooo!"  After him, another, an orange owl, also sang out with his own "Hooo, hooo!" A few more owls called out, "hooing" just as the others. They each seemed to know their part, and sang out just at the right time, all in turn. When finally it came down to the last owl, a chubby bright green one, every other owl turned expectantly toward him, awaiting his "hoo."

But instead of saying "hoo" just as the others had, he called out:

"Why?"

Grumbles instantly erupted from the other owls.

"Oh for crying out loud," the blue owl leading the group mumbled. Clearly frustrated he dropped his wings dramatically. "We've PRACTICED this Gerry! It's 'HOO.'We're supposed to say 'HOO' not 'WHY'!"

"Well maybe I don't really care 'who,'" little green Gerry replied. "Maybe I want to know 'why' instead." he innocently said as he spread out his wings in a "that's just the way I feel" kind of way.

"Oh good grief," Blue said, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his forehead the way you do when you suddenly get a very intense headache. "Okay, everybody take five." he called out. He then fluttered off his stage in a huff, quietly muttering "I just can't work like this," in a very prima donna fashion.

The other owls started to move about talking amongst themselves. But no one was talking to the little green owl. In fact, they all seemed to shift away from him, leaving him sitting alone. He sighed and started absentmindedly stroking the soft blades of grass with his wing.

Thinking that nothing so cute and sweet should look so unhappy, I cleared my throat to draw attention to myself, determined to cheer the little fellow up. I crouched down closer and told him I couldn't help but overhear all that had just happened. He made a shrugging motion. "I just want to know "why," that's all," he said. "There's just so much out there to know about!" he exclaimed. I nodded in agreement as he continued: "I mean, why does the wind whistle? Why do the stars sparkle? Why do the trees stand so tall?" he asked, gaining more and more enthusiasm as he spoke. "Why do the flowers dance? Why do brooks babble? " he began gesturing excitedly. "I even like to ask 'what' sometimes too," he said, his excitement now completely bubbling over. "What's behind the sky? What's beneath the ground? What makes the colors so bright?" Practically dancing with joy, he rattled off a few more "whys" and "whats" and even a few "whens and "hows".

Finally, when finished, he flopped back on the ground, a big smile on his face. "People think I'm just confused, and that I get what I'm supposed to say mixed up. But I can't just ask 'who' all my life. It's an important question sometimes, but there's so much more to know. And I just want to know things is all. It makes me happy. I guess some people think that's pretty crazy."

"I don't think that's crazy at all!" I blurted. If I had felt any shock as the result of talking with a tiny neon owl with a curious mind, it had apparently worn off.

He looked up at me with a smile. "Really?" he asked, hopefully.

"Of course." I replied. "I like to know things, too."

He bounced up off the ground, clearly feeling much more cheerful than he had a minute ago. "My name's Gerry." he said pleasantly, offering up a wing. I took it and introduced myself.

"Wondering and asking and learning is great fun," he started. "But wondering and asking and learning with a new friend? I think that's going to be even better." Gerry said happily. I smiled at my new little avian companion. I knew I'd have to find my way back home soon, but for now, I had other things to wonder about.

___________________________________________

My latest short story (it still needs some work, but this is it for now), and here's the amigurumi pattern that goes with it

Nothing.

Well.

No.

Not "nothing". Half a gallon of orange juice, a jar of pickles, leftover chicken from last night – the fridge wasn't empty. There was just nothing in there that would cure my insomnia.  But for some reason I stood there staring into the cold, bright void anyway. Perhaps I was hoping I could will something useful into existence if I stood there long enough.

When after three minutes nothing with high amounts of tryptophan magically appeared, I swung the refrigerator door closed and glanced at the clock on the microwave. 3:07 AM.

I leaned back and shut my eyes. Letting loose an exasperated sigh, I tried to figure out why decent shuteye had been so elusive lately. My neighbors hardly ever made a sound, so they were not to blame. And I'd always been mostly healthy with no medical history of sleep-impairing dysfunctions. Things were the same as always. So maybe I just had a lot on my mind and with my head so preoccupied with keeping things sorted and straight, it had no time to shut down and sleep. I thought about that for a moment and decided it was highly unlikely. Lately my brain seemed to have about as much going on as a TV with no cable connection; every channel portrayed nothing but static.

On the third night of no sleep I'd said to myself I was tired of it, and chuckled at the silly little pun. I had figured it would pass soon enough and my REM state would again return to me.  But now on night number eight with sleep still not anywhere in sight, I was really starting to fall apart. I rubbed my forehead trying to get rid of the fuzzy little headache between my eyes. It was then that I heard a soft creak come from the far end of the kitchen. I felt a sudden spike in adrenaline but quickly tried to stamp it down. It was probably just the house settling and I just needed to chill. I had been on edge lately anyway. But still. . . I wearily opened my exhausted eyes and looked around the dimly lit room.

I saw nothing. . .  at least at first.

As I looked I suddenly saw something moving near the front door. Fiercely I rubbed my eyes, hoping that I could rub away this rather frightening delusion I must be having. Opening my eyes I looked around the room once more, and it again looked normal; the deep shadows cast by the kitchen table, the chairs, and the counter did nothing to create a calming atmosphere, but I could no longer see anything moving within them.

Sighing again I pushed myself off the fridge I had been leaning against and started back toward my bedroom. Hearing things, seeing things – clearly my sanity could not take many more nights without sleep. I'd crawl back into bed and try for the thousandth time to drift off to sleep.

But trudging down the hallway I thought I heard more noises, little tiny shuffling sounds or whispers. I started to walk faster, trying to outrun them, but the faster I went the louder the noises got. It was as if they were following me.

Completely unconcerned about how crazy I was most certainly becoming I whipped around as I got to my bedroom door and flicked on a light to confront these noises. But when I turned around I saw nothing. And now the only sound I heard was my own heart beating at much too fast a pace. Shaking my head and telling myself it was all just my imagination, the result of an overly tired little brain, I was about to turn the light back off and collapse into my bed when I heard:

"Ahem."

Stunned, I slowly looked down to see standing just a few feet in front of me were three small, slightly anthropomorphic sheep. No more than a foot tall, they were all sorts of cute, with their big brown eyes and great fluffy bodies, standing up on their two back legs as easily as any biped.

"Pardon me," the one sheep who had spoken before said. His little helium voice was just about the cutest thing I had ever heard, which I might have in other circumstances commented on. But right now as I stared at the three little home invaders, mouth agape, I had other things on my mind. How did three sheep get in my house being one of them.

I tried to talk but I couldn't seem to get my mouth to form any words. It must not have gotten over the shock yet. Thankfully Sheep Number 1 had something to say anyway:

"You'll have to forgive us. We didn't mean to frighten you." he said. "It's just that we've been out of work for a long time now, and we were a bit nervous is all."

It was then I noticed that the other two sheep were standing close together behind Sheep Number 1 with, for lack of a better word, sheepish little grins on their black faces.

"Out of work?" I asked, as my mouth had apparently gotten over itself and managed to say something.

"Oh yes. It's been a terrible shame, really. Years ago people would always come to us when they needed to sleep. But since the advent of those darn sleep aids," all three of them shuddered briefly at that before he continued, "or even worse, people just not wanting sleep at all, well, there's been no need for us. Some in the family have had to seek other means of employment. Cameron, Al, and I were so glad to hear that someone needed us though! I do hope we're not too late."

"Too late. . . for what?" I couldn't help but think that had my brain been firing on all synapses I wouldn't be having such a hard time processing this. Then again, I thought, since this is clearly an hallucination, if my brain were firing on all synapses I wouldn't be having a conversation with miniature sheep.

"Too late to count us!" he said cheerfully in his adorably squeaky little voice. The two other sheep behind him -Cameron and Al he had called them- seemed to be warming up and stepped out, beaming brightly.

"Counting sheep. . ." I muttered, finally wrapping my brain around things. Sort of. "But there are only three of you." I said pointedly.

"Ah, yes." Sheep Number 1 said. "It's true in the past there would be more of us. We've figured out a way around this, though." He held up a waiting hoof as he and the other two got down on all fours and formed a neat line. When they were all in formation the first sheep leapt quite gracefully across the hall, shouting out "One!" as he went. As soon as he landed he scurried back to the end of the line while at the same time the second sheep leapt and shouted out "Two!" and then also scurried back to the line. They did this a few more times: sheep three yelled out "Three!" moving sheep one back to the front of the line where he then leapt and shouted out "Four!" followed, of course, by sheep two who yelled out "Five!" and so on.

When done their demonstration they gathered back together in front of me, slightly out of breath. Still on all fours they all looked up at me expectantly.

I fumbled around a bit for something to say. This was ridiculous. Wasn't it? There was no way counting three little sheep jumping on repeat would help me sleep. Then again. . . I thought back to early yesterday morning when, due to my lack of sleep, I had left the stove on after breakfast and nearly burned down the house. I also thought about the day before when, drowsy from being unfortunately wide awake all night, I had left my tea atop my car as I headed to work and had to face a chorus of angry commuters wailing on their car horns as they had white tea and lemon spritzed all over their windshields.

Eight days. No sleep. Maybe it was time to give ridiculous a shot.

"So you're here. . . to help me fall asleep?" I said.

"Yep." Sheep 1 replied matter-of-factly.

I shrugged. "All right. I'll give it a shot."

The sheep bounced with excitement and smiled widely to each other.

"I'm Ned." Sheep 1 said lifting a hoof. I leaned down and shook it. "Pleased to meet you, Ned," I replied, almost positive I meant it.

"Just so you know," he started quietly, "we won't be booked up for quite a long time. We'd be more than happy to stick around here so that whenever you need some shuteye you'll always have three sheep ready to help you out."

I looked at each of their sweet, hopeful faces in turn.

"Ned, Cameron, Al," I said. "I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship." I smiled at the gleaming little sheep, suddenly overcome with a great warm fuzzy feeling – that is, the warm and fuzzy feeling that comes with three little sheep bestowing happy hugs.

They could finally do the job they wanted to do. And I would finally get some sleep. All in all, a win-win.

___________________________________________

My latest short story, and, as has become my new "thing," here's the amigurumi pattern that goes with it

I'm getting a might dizzy, I have to say. We're into the final two weeks of the semester, the last day being the 14th, and things are getting a bit on the crazy side. All's going so fast I can't catch up. I feel like if I even try to sit down I'll collapse and sleep for three weeks straight. Don't get me wrong, though; I absolutely love my job, working as a math tutor for a community college.

It's funny, but in some ways I think things are crazier now as a tutor rather than when I was a student. I went to this school for two years, did lots of work, had plenty of finals to freak out about, then graduated in May and figured I'd be done with it all. But I've been at the school every day of every week just about since they hired me back for a second year of tutoring. I don't have my own classes and tests to worry about, just the ones belonging to my tutees (of which I have 9 right now). I work in math mainly, but there are four different classes so I spend a bit of my time trying to keep organized which students are at which point in which book and on which day.

Anyway, what with finals closing in, I've been putting in extra hours trying to help as many as I can feel comfortable when on their last day they face their last test and all. So I haven't been keeping up too well with responding to comments and, you know, generally paying attention to anything. But I'm not meaning to ignore anyone. And I'm for sure not becoming deviously dormant or anything. Just trying to manage a lot of things at once. Besides the end of the semester signifying extra hours, it's also a hard kick in the back to find other work, work in the field I actually went to school for: Graphic Design. The downside is, after having tutored for over a year now, I realize how much I really don't like graphic design all that much and how not good at it I am. But my tutoring contract ends in May so I've got to be getting my act together and figure out what I'm gonna do.

But I digress.

I had a spare moment this morning so went and replied to as many comments, questions, and notes as I could. If I missed you just let me know.

And I don't want to release any spoilers or anything, but for those who know me for my space art, I've got some new stuff coming (just as soon as I get another free minute!) and for those following my blog, specifically in regard to free amigurumi patterns, I'm hoping to release a new one at the end of the week.

Huh. Guess I failed at not giving away spoilers. Ah well.



Much love to my watchers, both old and new

Some stories are just too crazy to try to tell. Like that one with the underwater cave inhabited by the yellow-eyed octopus and the super heroes. Other stories, though, just have to be told, no matter how crazy.

This is one of those stories.

I was standing at my desk getting some papers ready for the FWF session next week when I heard a soft click come from behind me. Suddenly grand, dramatic music began playing, but at a rather subdued volume. I turned to see that a tiny white speaker hooked up to an even smaller media player had been propped up on the bookshelf at the other end of the room. And although this in itself was unusual, the thing next to the speaker on the bookshelf was what really threw me for a loop. There's really no way to prepare yourself for this kind of thing either, I've found.

Sitting on the shelf was a very small, rather plump, and not at all viscous-looking . . .  shark. I'd never seen such a tiny shark, let alone such a tiny shark sitting freely on my bookshelf.

He began singing and dancing to the music, with me as his sole audience. Surprisingly enough he could carry a tune, although his lyrics were a bit on the wonky side (but I was honestly too stunned to complain about such a triviality). When his short performance came to an end – with the lyric: Oh yes I am a shark, now you see/Please won't you bring me some broccoli? – the dramatic music coming to a theatrical finish, he stared up at me expectantly, obviously waiting for some sort of response.

Well I'm sorry but I just don't know the proper etiquette for this sort of thing. Which is something I suppose was blatantly obvious what with my just staring at him.

Finally he prompted, "What did you think?"

I groped around for the right thing to say, assuming "the right thing to say" even existed in a situation like this one. Eventually I settled on, "It was certainly interesting." I attempted to smile politely, but I think it came off more as a grimace. The little shark didn't seem to notice though; he just beamed brightly, pleased with the whole situation.

I knew I probably shouldn't ask any questions. I mean, when a tiny shark comes into your house, sets up on your bookshelf and begins singing about broccoli, it's probably just best to accept things the way they are and not probe too much. Leave well enough alone.

But I couldn't help myself.

"Why are you signing?"

He smiled at me in that "duh" kind of way. "You know!" he guffawed. "Everyone knows sharks sing. Silly." He shook his head, but in an amused, not perturbed way.

"Um," I said tentatively. "I thought it was whales that sang."

At that his little face twisted into the most peculiar combination of recognition and shock.

He slapped his fin to his head, muttering "Whales. Whales! Of COURSE, it's WHALES that sing! Oh I knew that. Stupid, stupid. . ."

I smiled and tried to contain my giggling.

He looked up at me around his fin, a sheepish smile (if you can picture a shark smiling sheepishly) creeping onto his face. "So," he started, brushing off his embarrassment. "Wanna play Monopoly? I'll let you be the race car." He lowered his fin and smiled up at me hopefully.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the notion of playing a board game with a slightly confused but altogether pleasant mini shark, but I nodded readily.

I went off to get the game, stopping by the fridge for some broccoli on the way.

_______________________________________________________________________________
Shark Attack! – by Karissa Cole - visit the original post here

^{Sorry about the major deviation dump today And if anyone's left me a comment or sent me a note to which they haven't gotten a reply, I apologize. It feels like my head's not been completely fastened on right these past several weeks. I think I've gotten back to everyone, but if not, send me a poke an let me know!}

___________________________

I've just had the suckiest week I've ever been forced to face. At least in a long time. And I have yet to rant about it in writing, so here goes:

Sunday I got caught in the rain and in the mud and ruined my only pair of sneakers. Monday morning my computer wouldn't work, the car did not start, I was late for work, and my shoes were still muddy and unwearable from the day before. Tuesday started off a little better, but the rain is killer on my health issues. Work was unusually awful as I had an extra student, and everyone in the room had something different they wanted help on. I did my best but it wasn't enough. Wednesday things really took a turn for the worse. Up at 5:00, stuck in the rain, and hopelessly exhausted, I went to my other job and tried to do what I needed to get done, except half the time I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing. We ran out of supplies and things were supremely pathetic. After that I went home and tried to nap since I had work in the afternoon. Almost fell asleep about 20 minutes before I had to get up. but someone randomly stopped by while I was trying to sleep - home alone. And I received an email with an altered work schedule which really messed me up. Eventually I got to work, but while unloading my things I could not find my calculator. I had to run down to the LAF to see if it had been turned in. No. Okay. Great. I worked with the rest of the students I had for the day, unpleasantly surprised that one of my new students was thirty years older than I. Awkward. Before heading home I went back to the LAF to hear that yes someone did find my calculator. I had left it in one of the rooms the day before at the end of the FWF session. The woman behind the desk searched high and low for it only to find out that someone had come on by and taken the thing, knowing full well it was not theirs. And may I just say it takes a pretty sick and twisted person to steal a MATH TUTOR'S calculator. Math is how I make my living and I need that calculator and I do not have the spare $200 to get a new one. So now by this point in the week it's been raining nonstop for something like 8 days already with no sign of letting up, I'm struggling with a few annoying health problems, and with all this junk going on my stress level  is starting to top the charts. I head home in tears. Thursday I sleep in, figuring I'm due for a better day. Still raining, though. Love that. Things seem to go okay at first. But then I can't help one of the students with a problem. I just love looking like an idiot in front of people. I screw up several more times in front of the students. Then I have to go and talk with my supervisor and I get in massive trouble for helping a student on my own time. (I had an hour break between students thanks to some poor scheduling, so I filled it helping a student who was struggling. I wasn't getting paid or anything.) I felt like such dirt after leaving there because apparently I'm not supposed to be friends with the people I work with and I can't help them on my own time. Feel like crap. And leave almost in angry, completely fed up tears again.

All this plus a few little things just nearly sent me over the edge. From another person's POV I'm willing to bet these look like just little things that happen, you just have to deal with. Reading back over them myself I might think that. But there was so much else, such a negative feel to the whole stupid week that I can't possibly explain. Guess it's a had to be there kind of situation. Not that's I'd wish a dumpy week on anyone, though.

Anyway. Today, on my only day off during the week, I've been completely ignoring the world; reading, crocheting, playing around on the computer (when it does work anyway), listening to music, and of course, uploading the slew of deviations I've been storing, waiting til I had the time to upload. I've been working sporadically on things these past couple of months, trying squeeze in everything in life.

I'm currently working on a new amigurumi design. It's actually sitting next to me on the desk right now. So that WIP is, as of right now, the closest to being finished. Next I have a few celestial pieces in the making. Beyond those two staples in my creative life, things are at a bit of a standstill. Occasionally I will pick up and fiddle with a photo shoot idea, a poster design, or something like that. But there's nothing big going on. I am, as always though, keeping up with my blog: ex-astris1701 | art and design blog. I'm more often found lurking around there than here these days, so feel free to stop by.

The things I uploaded today span a good month of creativity. I had been meaning to upload these things earlier, but life - as my above complaints I'm sure make clear - got in the way. Hopefully now though things even out. Crazy, bad days or weeks have to end sometime


On a final note, I just want to thank my active watchers; you guys (and girls of course) are great

___________________________
Ravelry | Wordpress  | the Gallery | Twitter

You can learn a lot at the library. I, for one, learned something very interesting just this morning. For instance, did you know it is viewed as quite rude to refuse purple and orange cupcakes when they are offered to you by a group of 1.5 foot tall red monsters with golden horns, fluffy tails, and floppy ears?

Personally, I did not know this before today. And it appears as though the owner of the blue Ford that was parked down at the library this morning did not know this either. In such a rush this person was, they unfortunately didn't respond favorably when three of the aforementioned 1.5 foot tall red monsters with golden horns, fluffy tails, and floppy ears offered him the also aforementioned purple and orange cupcakes.

Although, I suppose it might be some consolation, I don't believe he lived long enough to regret his lack of courteousness. See, as it turns out, these cute little red monsters are rather hard to upset. Which happens to be a very good thing. For, it seems, when they are pushed to the breaking point, their golden horns flip open atop their head, and flames come bursting out, licking up and devouring anything in the immediate vicinity.

I must admit, it's quite a sight.

After seeing two of the little red monsters drive past me in a recently liberated blue Ford, I parked my own car near the library door, got out, and was approached by the remaining rouge-colored dwarfish (and not to be underestimated) creature.

When offered a platter of purple and orange cupcakes, I quickly and graciously accepted, which resulted in the happy little fellow skipping down the road cheerfully. I took a bite of one of the treats as I watched the skipping monster hop into the blue Ford (which had apparently been driven back around to pick him up). Obviously finding some way to overcome their vertically challenged states, the three sped off down the street, leaving a trail of burned rubber and a handful of very startled senior citizens just arriving at the library for the new "Seniors on Facebook" seminar behind.

I finished my cupcake, dusted off my hands, got back in my car, and drove away from the library.

I didn't think I could handle learning anything else for the day.

But I have to say, those were the best cupcakes I have ever had.

I don't think I'll ever understand why people have such a hard time minding simple requests and rules like "Only use this wallpaper for you personal desktop" or "You do not have permission to alter, redistribute, display, or use this image elsewhere without direct permission from this artist."

I also don't think I'll ever understand why people think writing "NO COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT INTENDED" actually excuses them from the very real copyright violations they're committing. Saying "I didn't mean to run over your cat" doesn't undo the fact that you did indeed flatten poor Fluffy with your car.

Seriously.

I really appreciate it when someone likes my work enough to want to use it in a piece of their own art. Really, I do. But if a piece is not specifically labeled as stock, then why do people go ahead and use it anyway? (I'm not in any way referring to someone asking to use something that's not stock; that's completely different and much more on the polite end of the scale.)

Not only do I have a gallery folder just for my resources (little though they may be) in each of my wallpaper descriptions I clearly state the purpose of the piece.





FAQ #257
What sort of permission do I need to use someone else's work?
If the work you wish to use is not stock then what you need to do is contact the proper copyright owner of the material which you wish to use. Once contacted the owner of the material needs to provide you with a written statement which needs to clearly say that you have permission to use the work and that you have permission to sublicense your derivative work to deviantART as required by deviantART's Submission Agreement. The owner should state that they understand the nature of both deviantART and the nature of the Submission Agreement. Other types of permissions statements may also be accepted.

Be certain to remember to adhere to any other conditions they may have given you when you submit to your gallery. For example; if they specified that you link to their website in the deviation's description then be certain to link to their website or your permission will be considered invalid and may be subjected to immediate removal. Also be certain to mention somewhere in your Deviation description that the necessary permissions have been included for review.


FAQ #157
Can I use things created by other people in my submissions?
You are allowed to use any valid stock resources providing that you obey the terms and conditions set by the stock provider.

For works which are not valid stock resources you should first obtain proper permission for use, preferably in writing.


I hate to sound like a walking rulebook. But everyone who signs up for deviantART agrees to these simple terms. And even if they don't read through all the guidelines, they are available for everyone to see right in the FAQ. There's no excuse for ignorance, at least when it comes to something so fundamental. I'm no angel when it comes to reading rules and regulations, but I do try to do what's right. It's not such a bad policy.





Sorry. Inappropriately using someone's art as stock, using actual stock without crediting, and stealing another's piece and claiming it as your own are big no-nos that tend to prompt journals from me. It's just my righteous fury acting up again.

There are some things I just have mixed feelings about. You know, windshield wipers, argyle socks, the color puce. Now for some reason, a reason of which I am quite sure I am unaware, the word "blog" is also on this list of mine. Despite this though, I made one: ex-astris1701 | art and design blog.

So far it's proving to be quite a nifty little creative outlet; it's actually been a good motivator. . . which is a bit funny, because that wasn't my intent.

I figure I'll continue to use this, ahem, blog (mixed feelings - weird word) to expand my creative pursuits. On it I have already uploaded posts regarding crafting such as Amigurumi, celestial art, design work (which I never upload to deivantART, mainly because I'm not talented enough, and I reserve the critiquing for my instructors I suppose), and fractal art. I find it's also a good place to post sneak peeks and works-in-progress, not to mention links of note (like helpful resource sites or artists of inspiration).

It's still a bit of a baby blog -  only made it a few weeks ago. But that's where I'll be, building and getting into the creative spirit that suits me so much better than anything I find in the doldrums. I will still upload my wallpapers here, but this blog will pretty much be my mothership.

- ex-astris1701

Duck:
Noun

      1. A waterbird with a broad blunt bill, short legs, webbed feet, and a waddling gait.

Duck:
Noun

      1. The subject of my unusual story.

On a normal day, if you had asked me if I had ever seen a short, round, yellow duck try his hardest to put on a pair of blue striped socks, I would have said no.

But today was not a normal day.

This is because when I woke up this morning, instead of finding myself between my cozy cotton sheets with a fat grey cat purring in my face, I found nothing. Absolutely nothing. My soft orange wood floor had been replaced with white - just stark gleaming white. My four walls had been traded for never ending perfectly smooth white. And my low ceiling, perfect for staring at on lazy days in bed, had completely disappeared, and above me all I saw was white. No lights, no windows, no doors. Just white.

It felt like I was floating in a bottle of glue, but without sticky fumes. Although at least glue fumes would have explained the hallucination I was obviously having. But there I was, sitting on the smooth, cold, white floor, not having any idea where I was, and how I got there being equally mysterious.

I'd never been surrounded by so much nothingness before, and the thought sent shivers down my spine. But before I had the chance to panic, as was my intention to be honest, I heard something coming from my left. I pushed myself off the floor and turned in the direction of the noise. A bright burst of color a few feet away slashed through the complete lack of pigment around. I started walking toward the yellow blob ahead and noticed it was moving. Before long I was standing just a foot or so away from a yellow, unusually anthropomorphic duck. He was lying flat on his back with his feet flailing slightly in the air. Hanging from his little left foot was a blue striped sock. It looked slightly stretched out, lopsided, and another shake or two was sure to make the thing fall off. In his wings – hands? -  he held a matching blue sock. He was trying desperately to get the sock on his right foot.

I couldn't help but notice that things weren't going so well.

He strained as hard as he could to reach over his big round tummy but he could hardly touch his feet. He grunted and twisted, trying to get the other sock on his right foot. But he just couldn't manage. And to make things worse the sock dangling from his left foot finally fell off. Defeated, he dropped his tiny legs and let his head fall back to the ground. He sighed, shut his eyes, and covered his face with his wing.

Clearing my throat slightly I moved a bit closer to him and sat back on my haunches. Apparently noticing he and his socks were no longer alone, he lifted his wing and looked up at me. He sat up – with great effort – looked at his socks lying on the floor by his feet, then looked back at me. I reached down and grabbed the socks and put them on his feet, first the left, then the right. I sat back, pushed my hair behind my ear and waited to see what would happen next.

He stood up and looked down at his feet – another thing that took great effort. He lifted his left foot, shook it slightly, then put it back down. Then he did the same with his right foot. He spun around once and smiled, that is if a duck could smile. He patted me on my knee then scurried away, kicking up his feet ever fourth step or so. In all his blue striped sock excitement though, he lost his balance and fell flat on this face. But a grunt or two later and he was back up and waddling happily into the white oblivion beyond.

Thirty seconds later and I found myself staring into the yellow-green eyes of my fluffy grey cat who, I'd be willing to bet, was doing his best to telepathically transmit to me "Stop lying there and feed me."

Updates appear at the beginning, older and original posts are below.


2/17/11 -  The aforementioned stolen piece of mine has been taken out of the theif's gallery as has most of their stolen works.



It's a really old piece of mine but

Mine uploaded 8/10/11: [link]
Theirs uploaded 2/13/12: [link]

I think all of their gallery is stolen. . .  Not sure though.

I normally prefer my journal be more or less lighthearted, but I've been having a lot of trouble with art thieves both on and off deviantART. I decided this would be my hub for this sort of activity.

Good places to go if you know of stolen work:





Please help other artists who have had their work stolen. If you know of other pieces that have been stolen and reuploaded either on deviantART or on any other site without permission please do what you can to report the situation.

Artwork is often considered an extension of oneself. I know this is how I view it, and I know a great deal of anguish can accompany finding out your work has been stolen.

Stop Art Theft

All I can say is, most of my evenings don't go quite like this.

As I was getting ready for bed I noticed a tube of toothpaste had somehow fallen to the floor. Not thinking too much of it, being very familiar with random acts of gravity already, I picked it up and started to put it away. While doing so I noted it felt heavier than toothpaste really ought to. I began twisting the cap off to investigate when I felt something pushing on it from the inside. Suddenly the cap flew off and skittered across the floor, and out from the tube emerged something I never expected to see anywhere, especially not inside my toothpaste. Covered in the sticky white goo was a tiny, furry bipedal creature.  From what I could tell he had a large head and a lanky body, although given that his slightly matted fur was sticking out at every conceivable angle, it was hard to tell what he might have looked like on a normal day.

Assuming being trapped inside toothpaste wasn't normal.

Taking two big gasps of air, he scrambled out of the tube and hopped lightly onto my table. I couldn't help but stare at him as he tried in vain to shake off the glop. A few bits of his tiny face a body were somewhat clear, though, and I could now see his fur was a soft, charcoal grey, he had no discernable nose or ears, and most of his head was taken up by his eyes and toothless mouth. He tried for another minute to clean himself off before he seemed to register my presence, despite the fact that I was hovering right above him. He looked up at me with enormous, shiny yellow eyes, thanked me for helping him get out of the tube, and then asked me if there was someplace he could freshen up. Somewhat dazed I pointed him towards the bathroom sink. Smiling he ran excitedly over to the edge of the sink and grabbed a few drops of water that remained from the last time the faucet was turned on. Although still being utterly spellbound by this almost microscopic being, I felt it would be inappropriate to watch as he cleaned his fur off, so I turned away. Shortly after doing so, though, I heard him call out a last cheerful thank you, and before I could even turn around he was gone.

I looked around for him for a couple of minutes, wishing to ask him a plethora of questions and thinking nothing with such tiny legs could have gotten too far. But he seemed to have been in a hurry and left no trace. So I went to pick up the toothpaste cap that had been ejected halfway across the room. But as I started to screw the cap back on, I thought better of it and instead left the cap off and just laid the tube down on the counter.

Because you never know.

Currently, ~Blck-Wings has been claiming my work as his/her own. He/she has also been selling my work in prints (as well as many other artists' works). He/she has given some artists the credit they are entitled to, but many of their works still contain materials where the original artist is uncredited. When I first came across this deviant, they used my stock without crediting. Now it looks as though they have added my credit but they are selling my work, against my stock policy.


She has been notified that what she is doing is not acceptable and has been reported, however nothing has been done so far. So I thought my next option would be to at least make some record of it in my journal.

This is not the first time I've spotted people stealing my work or other's work. And I have no way of knowing who else is stealing out there. So far my attempts to rectify these situations have gone unrewarded and it is fast becoming tiresome.

Edit: My stolen work in Freelancer1111's gallery has been taken care of. One down. Apparently they didn't know it was my work that they were taking. My work (and thousands of others) was first stolen by wallbase ([link]


Also APPARENTLY many things have been stolen and placed on "wallbase" ([link]. I am  currently in the process of contacting the site owner.

I advise you to check out [link] [wallbase]; there are thousands of pieces there, some of which might be yours.

They have a ridiculous terms of service page ([link]

Here's (apparently) what they want people to do when their work is stolen (taken directly from the site):

". . . We take copyright violation very seriously and will vigorously protect the rights of legal copyright owners. If you are the copyright owner of content which appears on the Wallbase.cc website and you did not authorize the use of the content you must notify Wallbase.cc in writing in order for us to identify the allegedly infringing content and take action.

In order to more easily facilitate the process we have provided a form for your use. We will be unable to take any action if you do not provide us with the required information so please fill out all fields accurately and completely. Alternatively you may make a written notice via email, facsimile or postal mail to the DMCA AGENT as listed below. Your written notice must include the following:

— A physical or electronic signature of the copyright owner or person authorized to act on behalf of the owner which expressly claims an exclusive right that is allegedly being infringed.
— Specific identification of the copyrighted work which you are alleging to have been infringed. If you are alleging infringement of multiple copyrighted works with a single notification you must submit a representative list which specifically identifies each of the works that you allege are being infringed.
— Specific identification of the location and description of the material that is claimed to be infringing or to be the subject of infringing activity with enough detailed information to permit Wallbase.cc to locate the material. You should include the specific URL or URLs of the webpages where the allegedly infringing material is located.
— Information reasonably sufficient to allow Wallbase.cc to contact the complaining party which may include a name, address, telephone number and electronic mail address at which the complaining party may be contacted.
— A statement that the complaining party has a good faith belief that use of the material in the manner complained of is not authorized by the copyright owner, its agent or the law.
— A statement that the information in the notification is accurate, and under penalty of perjury that the complaining party is authorized to act on behalf of the owner of an exclusive right that is allegedly infringed.

Written notice should be sent to our designated agent as follows:

DMCA AGENT
Name: Przemek
Email: yotoon@wallbase.cc"

I'm stunned.

Edit: I do hate to point the finger at those who have rectified these errors. So I don't know if listing names is a good idea. Two of the deviants I mentioned have of their own free will taken down their pieces and I thank them for it. Right now I only know of one deviant and Wallbase using my work without the proper permissions.


11/19/2011
Looks like my stuff from Wallbase has been taken down. It's a small victory, considering it's been up there for several months, along with some of my other pieces. Who knows how many people got their hands on my work without knowing it really was my work. But a small victory is still a victory, so, we're good.

Blck-Wings is still using my stock in prints but as far as I know a link to my page is in her deviation descriptions. So the issue of credit has been somewhat resolved. But, still, I don't permit my stock to be used in prints unless it's been modified significantly (which it has not, in her case). I know she knows this, but she apparently has taken to blocking me or anyone else who tells her this and the powers that be have decided not to intervene.

As a last point and as a matter of record, Dan1025 has permission to use some of my work. He's got some interesting scifi stuff which, you know, is awesome. Anything Star Trek or Star Wars always catches my eye

So that's it for this journal. I'm trying to be an optimist in thinking my work won't be taken any time soon again.
Much thanks for those of you who helped me out!

I learned the most interesting thing today. If you take a large, rectangular piece of blue terry cloth, lay it out on your floor and sit by it, cross-legged and facing west, a very small yellow duck with a voice quite resembling the sound of a kazoo is likely to come walking by and begin reading proclamations from a long scroll. Upon finishing he is highly likely to approach you and offer you a lollipop, which you should graciously accept, before he contentedly leaves in the direction from which he came.

Who knew?

A while back I had an unfortunate run-in with a deviant who had some anger management issues. I blocked and ignored him but he logged into a spare account so he could continue harassing me. I still don't know what he had against me, or what I did to anger him. Had I insulted him or his work maybe I'd understand why he would be upset, but all I did was compliment his work (work that I still admire). Anyway, he ended up being permanently banned from dA, both his main account and his backup. He was quite an accomplished deviant, and I feel bad about his being banned. But it is what he deserved. Plus I've been given the impression that this was not the first time he'd been caught harassing people. His malevolence level seemed to match or even exceed his artistic skill.

I don't know much about banning, but I do know the deviant I'm referring to had at least some access to his account. He managed again to insult me, this time in one of his deviation descriptions. He also had some choice words for the admin who banned him. This guy is kind of harsh. But his own words were "I will never become active here again even if my ban is removed." Which I must admit, makes me happy. If you're going to treat people like lowlifes, then you don't belong here.

I hadn't thought about this recently (the incident occurred a few months ago) but today I found out it was resolved and he's sworn off dA.
So now it seems like it's done and over. Which is good.

Now though I'm dealing with someone who has stolen my work. Actually, I caught them  passing my stock work off as their own. I commented and told them they needed to credit me which they did. But now they're selling my work as prints here on dA, which is against my stock policy. I told them this, and they blocked me. I haven't tried to contact them again (as my above story indicates I know from experience backup accounts = dumb idea) but I did report this infraction about a week ago. Nada on the response front, and I'm getting kind of antsy. It makes me think twice about releasing work as stock.

Anyway.

Besides that, I mean, this most recent abuse of my stock art work, all is well. Mostly. For once in my life I feel as though I have too much inspiration, and I can't figure out what to do first. Hah, if only this were always the case! Doesn't matter much though. When the weekend rolls around, the only part of the week I have time to play, hopefully I'll be able to pick an idea and run with it. I still have so much to learn and so much practicing to do. And I'm eager to do it.

By the way, if you see a small blue gnome running around madly with a black and silver necklace, let me know.

As I stood in an overgrown, heavily wooded forest, feeling myself sink a bit into the soft, mossy ground, I kept my eyes fixed intently on the image flickering before me. I had lost my new companions some time ago and although eager to find them again, I knew I could use all the help offered me, especially in a land as unfamiliar to me as this one. The stout little white-haired man, or the holographic recording he had left of himself, was fervently warning of the dangers ahead. The playback swam a bit, the faint bluish glow around the man's image intensifying. But his words were still understandable, although unbelievable.

He told of a region, just beyond the wood I was in, from which few strangers ever emerged alive. In this region fantasy had no bounds, and upon reality in encroached without mercy.

Since I had arrived in this world, three, maybe four hours before, most of what I knew - thought I knew - had been crumpled to dust. I'd seen dragons carry on peaceful conversations with crickets, ghosts had hidden behind the trees as I walked by, and humans and animals seemed to blend together. Doors lay behind everything, and I wouldn't even dare speculate as to where they led. After all, it was an inconspicuous door that led me here in the first place.

The recording came to an end and stopped, frozen on the man's troubled faced. After just a few seconds, it began again from the beginning. I listened again to the man's pleading, his begging all who should come upon this message to turn back and stay away from the land before them. His words began to fade into white noise as I let myself fall into wondering where that man had come from, and where he went.

From above me a loud screech sounded, whipping me from my forlorn thoughts. A black winged creature darted overhead, and disappeared into the distance as quickly as he had appeared.  I'd been traversing a never-ending forest since I arrived, but it hadn't started out as eerie as it was slowly becoming. And this was nothing compared to what was to come.

Although barely visible through the thick canopy of leaves, I could see the sky was significantly darker than it was an hour ago. And my friends were still lost, somewhere in the land in front of me.

And so on I trudged, determined to find them.

If ever scenery could be described as living and breathing, now was the time. The foliage was dark and murky, I could feel it growing as I walked past. The air was stagnant, not a breeze brushed by, but there was noise, and it was getting louder. There was whispering. It was talking, wondering about me, why was I here, and when would I leave. I could hear the whispers getting louder, stronger. I quickened my pace, walking faster and faster, as the sounds got louder.  The ground beneath me began to stretch and skew, while the living trees that lined the narrowing path began moving closer and closer to me, their whispers climbing into incomprehensible shouts. I stumbled, panicking, feeling a harsh wave of claustrophobia consume me, finding each breathe more difficult than the last. I tried in vain to outrun the fear, and whatever it was I heard, saw and felt. Bits of darkness began creeping into my vision, and I thought for sure I'd never get to where I needed to go.

In a flash the world returned to normal. Although still dark, murky, and hopelessly foreboding, the whispering quieted, the ground steadied under me, and I was no longer being enclosed by the overgrowth. A figure dropped down from above, landing just ahead of me. I caught my breath, stopping short to avoid hitting the only bit of bipedal life I'd seen since I lost my traveling escorts.

The figure straightened up to its full, somewhat intimidating, seven-foot-tall height. I nearly shrieked as his dark features sparked recognition in me. Though I had only met Jax a few hours ago, his tall, tan self, adorned in various animal skins and ornaments, was highly unforgettable. He'd been traveling with me, trying to help me find my way home. Pure relief and near ecstasy filled me as I breathlessly tried to question him, asking him how he got here, what was going on, and where were our other missing friends, while simultaneously thanking him, and warning him. But almost as quickly as my joy appeared, it was expelled.

This was not my Jax.

His eyes, his eyes weren't right. Normally blue, they were now deep, dark red, and they did not reflect the friendly spirit I knew was within him. His smile looked pasted on, and it changed from freakishly happy, to fiendishly scheming. His smile grew, revealing two sharp rows of fangs, while his whole body seemed to contort, and twist as the intolerable whispering of before returned. He began to lunge at me, reaching out unnaturally clawed hands toward my throat. I barely darted out of his path, spinning and falling to the ground behind him. I looked up at this monstrous figure and saw him turn almost inside out. His face was reappearing at the back of his head, and he'd sprouted two new arms, even more devilish than before. His already dark skin rapidly changed from rich brown to a black that put the night sky to shame. His red eyes began to glow, and consume his face, twisting into large slits, staring down at me. And in his mouth fire began to spill out over his glistening fangs. I snapped my eyes shut, a scream, a wail of terror, dancing on the edge of my lips. Never had I been as horrified as I was now. But I forced my eyes open again, not willing to consent to such fear. If I was to die in this miserable place at the multiple hands of a grotesque creature, I was going to do it with my eyes open. But as I looked up to meet the eyes of my assailant, I found he had disappeared. Stunned and still on my back on the ground I scrambled to my feet, not willing to risk meeting up with him again.

I spun myself around and started running down the path I was on. I had to get out of here, and I had to do it NOW.

No sooner had I gotten back on my feet though, something else caught my attention. My name was being called from somewhere off to my left, somewhere in the unidentifiable leaves, bushes and flora that looked so very unwelcoming. I squinted to find the source, and what I saw filled me with more terror than the last horrible encounter I'd had. Being dragged into the ground by thick, gnarled vines was the real Jax, my Jax. Or at least, what I hoped to high heaven was the real Jax. If there was one thing I was learning, it was that nothing I saw or heard here was necessarily real. But this had to be real, it felt it. I needed this to be real. I sprinted across the unfriendly distance between the two of us, nearly falling down several times. By the time I reached him, all that was left above the hard, dark ground was his right arm, flailing about, desperately trying to grab hold of something. As soon as I reached out and touched him, the vines disappeared, and his whole body appeared resting back on the ground. His breathing was sharp and ragged. Sweat and tears covered his dark face. His lively eyes were now half-closed, the skin around and under them looking red and dark, while all the rest of his face looked completely devoid of all color. He was no longer calling my name, and in fact he didn't appear to be completely cognizant. And one look to his left arm told me why. With unparalleled horror I gazed at his arm, or where his arm should have been. It had been brutally severed at the elbow, but by what was unknown to me.

I screamed now, letting out all of the fear, horror, pain and anger I didn't realize had been welling inside me since this bizarre journey began. Tears began steadily flowing down my face as I cradled Jax in my arms. For someone who had once been so tall, and strong, and so full of life and curiosity, he now seemed so helpless and lifeless. And that's exactly how I felt. I had no idea where we were, and I had nothing with which to help him. Before long we'd both die here.

As I sat there sobbing with Jax in my arms, coldly flashing back to the little holographic warning, a glimmer of hope wandered through my mind. Maybe there was a way out of this. I shut my eyes tightly, exorcising the fear inside. I held onto my fallen friend even tighter as I silently prayed, trying to stop my tears.

Suddenly I heard him inhale, life returning to his whole body. I tore my weary eyes open and looked down through my leftover tears at Jax, who was now awake and alive and looking back at me. He sat up quickly and looked around in a panic, relaxing only just slightly when his eyes fell upon his left arm, back where it belonged. No trace of his injury remained; it looked as if nothing had ever happened. I flung my arms around his neck and hugged him tighter than I'd ever hugged anyone before. I felt him hold me just as tightly, and I let myself fall into this much needed hug for just a moment.

Then, still keeping my arms around him, I pulled slightly away to look at him and ask about the others. Where were they, and were they okay. But looking into his strong, brave face, awaiting his reply, I saw something that made me realize this journey we'd found ourselves on was nowhere near over. It had only just begun.

- - - - - - - - -

So this is a fragment of a dream I had the night before last. I left out a lot of it, like the part about the grey-skinned guy with the red, glowing veins being infested by some unknown ailment, and the broken wooden bridge over the lava flow in the cave. It was just getting too long. Actually, it's freakishly long as is. But I had to write some of it down.

I have absolutely no idea what caused such vivid and bizarre dreamage, but this kind of thing has been going on in my dreams all week. I cannot wait to get to sleep again.

I have got to learn to just not talk back to people who irritate me.

I understand that many artists, on deviantART or elsewhere, appreciate and often desire critiques or bits of constructive criticism.

I do not fit in this category.
Don't get me wrong, I understand that I can improve in so many ways. But I work hard, trying new things and I upload my successes and failures because some out there may enjoy seeing it. And I upload it as finished so that I can look back and see my own progress.
But I am not here for critiques. And it's actually my belief that artwork, mine or other's, should not be criticized. Most people disagree with me, which is fine. But if you disagree with me, then just leave me alone. This is what I do.

Anyway constructive criticism is one thing but just talking because you're angry is another. Some guy, an excellent artist though he may be, decided it was a good idea to tell me that my work was 'of poor quality and unoriginal'. So I replied curtly telling him I didn't want his opinion. Not only that, but it was one of my first attempts at this kind of art and his harsh words that were far from constructive, were not the best way to encourage an artist. I then blocked him.

But while I was writing this I got this note from him:

<sup>"You're a child...
I have a back up account for pussies that talk shit but can't handle the replies.

What a shame, if you want to stay on the same path and refuse grow further with your work, then that's perfectly fine with me. Seems you like to give advice, but when others give it to you, you cry about it. I'm just being honest, close your comments if you can't handle criticism. Or maybe discourage it on the deviation. Don't be immature about it though, makes you look like a whiny little kid.

Now, I'm going to do the exact same thing you did to me, good luck with your future endeavors as well, you sour cunt."</sup>

And then I realized I had come across this deviant before. He uploaded what he called Apophysis flames. I downloaded them, but they were JPEGs. So I commented on his deviation saying that these weren't 'flames but rather JPEGs; you should change the description'. He told me 'I don't like it when people tell me I should do something, so don't do that. If you had said it a little more politely I might have done it.'
I guess I should've blocked him then.

Now it looks like he was so steamed over the fact that someone called him out on his mistake (flames are flames, JPGs are JPGs – I wasn't giving advice, just pointing out something incorrect. I even told him he had wonderful deviations.) he came to my page just to try to get back at me.

So this is the guy: s(name removed to avoid incident)4, and s(name removed to avoid incident)44 is his backup account. Maybe I shouldn't have posted his name, but I just wanted people to be aware that he might be volatile. He's got some great artwork though. So I guess he's a success at being an artist, but a fail at being a person. I shouldn't say that last bit, I'd like to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he was nasty to me the first time we conversed. But like I said, his work is for the most part well done and even somewhat inspiring so of course you should decide for yourself :]

But this has got me thinking, an actual community of artists who respect each other no matter what their level of skill, would be nice.

Anyway. I uploaded some brushes today. I was actually planning on making some fractals but I got a bit sidetracked and made the Chaos brush set. I still plan on making some fractal sets to be used as stock but probably later in the week. I've got a busy weekend. And even right now we've got company for dinner. A young couple and their 10 ½ month old daughter. The only infants I've ever been around are my cousins and they are, well,  I love them but they are so loud and occasionally impolite. But this little one was so quiet during dinner! Not a peep and I can't help but be impressed. Of course, you could take my experience with and knowledge of babies and put it at the head of a pin and still have room leftover. But still. she's a cutie, and I usually only ever say that about quadrupeds

Sidetracked again . . . Right, so if anyone's interested in some fractal/nebula stock I will be making some. It's my first real go so just cut me some slack; I'm not really a stock artist and I'm just an art hobbyist in general But some have liked some of my Apophysis things and nebulae so I thought I'd try making some specifically for manipulation or whatnot.

I'm also trying some more spacescapes. I'm still learning and what I make isn't perfect, but I have so much fun making it. And I'm pretty sure that's what matters.

(By the way, that s(name removed) guy complained about me hiding his comments to me; he hid my comments to him first. He also sent me three different notes and six or seven comments. And that 'I'll do the same thing to you that you did to me' thing? Yeah, I never called him names and actually complimented him. Which is probably why he hid my comments. And here again, I've complimented his work where anyone can see! I also noticed one of the things he said I did poorly in one of my deviations is something he did in one of his own deviations. Guess it's only okay if he does it. Sorry, but I only just realized how completely awful he was really acting. I really loved some of his work, but its beauty is so much more subdued now that he's said these things to me.)

Okay. I'm done ranting.

13/2/12 - The deviant mentioned above came back after being "permanently" banned for a few months. Unfortunately he's been lying to his watchers as to why he was banned. From what I understand, he's maintaining that he was merely defending another deviant. I wish they all knew what he really did, and what he said. It's such a shame to see someone act so awful. He's still on my block list though so I will do what I can to forget him. He used to be such a great artist. Now he has lost so much soul.

At least when you're sleeping you can wake up from a nightmare.
No one's figured out how to get out of one when you're still awake.