Occupy THIS, Bastards!

I will preface this blob with a disclaimer:

I do not care to watch the news, unless it is about kittens being rescued or seagulls shoplifting Cheeto's. The info I get and ponder- which may or may not be perceived as "news" is second, or third-hand at best. 

That being said, I still have a slew of gratuitous rantings to spew about the stuff I really do not care to know too much about. 

Movin' on Up?

Like this "Occupy" bullshit.

Is "Occupy" the new planking? 

It smells like the greener, uber-ivy-league-er planking, I'd venture to say.  

Upset at "The Man" and don't know why? 

Have a trust fund and secretly hate your family's prestige? 

Actually think that 100K is lower-middle-class income? 

Well, step right the fuck up *floks, 

and alleviate some of that over-abundant white guilt! 

You are HERE

Last Monday, as I drove down the illustrious streets built around Yale- in the meagre township also known as New Haven, I was extra p.m.s.-inspired to jaw on about the mock tent city which has sprouted up on the west end of the green for the better part of a long-ass time. 

(Remember readers: you asked for it!)

"Jesus F'n Christo! What the fucking fuck are these bone-heads up to? Reallly!?!? AND Just who in the hell is actually sleeping on the dang green? AND who can afford the luxury of loafing about? Jeeeez G., look at that big blue one- I bet that tent costs more than I make in 2 weeks! Occupy- my ass!..." G. concurred, so we bitched in unison for two more blocks. 

I was livid. I do not feel the need to OR care to hear these occupiers out. 

Do not pass "Go." 

Do not collect $200. 

VOID. 

Fuck Off, You Pituitary Case!

I really don't think that the tented voice of a generation is occupying anything but the outhouses that somebody is paying for! You want to hear about the actual 99 fucking percent? Call up Sallie Mae and ask them if they will reduce my loan payment, siting the 11-months of underemployment I struggled through and the year of couch-surfing I am winning a People's Choice Award (TM) for... 

99% of the time, you will be ignored, harassed and have my name and shady credit reported to the fuzz. 

So- fuck you imaginary do-gooders... Pay off my fucking loans! Stop buying overpriced crap nobody needs, inducing an overblown supply and demand free-market chaos economy! Send your condescending, preppy-assed kids to ghetto public schools & tell them that Higher Education is 99% a fucking joke! And would somebody- somewhere please tell celeb actors and athletes that they need to earn their wages. Some shit is really askew. Don't pay to see Rulia Joberts pretend to act "ugly" in the cinema. Do not save your pennies to own that pro ball jersey! The player has no clue who the fuck you are- do you see him sporting your name on his back? 

Come on United Statesians, get a clue, and update priorities! 

Spare a Square?

My grandparents must be turning over in their graves! They did not live off imaginary credit. If they couldn't afford the new thing- they did not get it. And if they really needed it, they worked asses off and saved. No sense of "you deserve everything NOW" self-entitled lie most floks believe. 

Fact: most of us do not deserve shit. Eat it up. And an extra pre-emptive fuck you for thinking this is harsh, if you in fact do think it harsh. I really do not care. 

What do I care about? Getting a safe and affordable place of my own to live and work in. 

Because "campin' out" is for weekends in the forest. 

Occupied!

You know, I think socio-economic reform needs to happen as much as the next impoverished surf does. But who is going to give up their comfy lifestyle- riddled with i-phones, i-pads, i-pods and high-speed interweb conex? Who is opting to ride the bus and give up their SUV or even forfeit their Prius-induced consciences? Don't see too many committing to embracing the 99 so-called percent... 

Sweet Relief

And since when does the "middle class" get to cry poor & whine about equality? 

FUCK THAT!

Go recycle that bullshit to someone who is buying it. 

I'm not.

Let me break it down: 

If there were to be a revolution... 

A] it would not be televised. 

B] fluffy "occupiers" would be scared shitless by it's sheer force and dynamic energy.

& 

C] it would not be lead by a bunch of ivy-leaguers. 

The real revolution belongs in the streets. 

It is borne of fire. 

Only those who dare to burn are willing to strike a match.    

Gil Scott-Heron knows!!!

*Floks: The new folks.

 Floks: also an en-title for folks who would rather not think for themselves... Enjoy! 

You deserve it!

Art By Any Other Name

Today, As I was walking out of the building @ work, I stopped in as the staff was hanging a new art show in the gallery space. The theme is “Cultural Passages” and this annual show's artists are all young adults who are disabled in one way or another. Some are physically challenged, some are mentally or psychologically ill, yet all are amazing emerging artists and the viewer would have no clue whatsoever that the group of men and women are any different than the next person- if it was not publicized. 

{Are they different?}

Apples or Oranges?

My boss and I were chatting as I went through the space admiring the work. She was explaining to me about the specific displaying requirements of this national show. The pieces were hung lower than usual to accommodate wheelchair viewers. The bios [which were warmly written and unpretentious, thank Godzilla] were printed up in a larger-than-usual font size, to accommodate the visually impaired, and a braille guide book is also available to anyone who may need it.

I Love You

There were paintings, mono-prints, photographs, video installations and illustrations. Some pieces were soothing to look at, others incited uncomfortable emotions and a few simply drew me in with pensive charm. All were worthy of being sincerely deemed ART, which is not a label I toss about lightly. Oh sure, I encourage everyone to be creative and try making some art during their adult lives, but not all creative people are artists. Sorry if I sound judge-y, but I include 75% of the famous “artists” out there in this crapegory. There is a boatload of g'ARTbage out there, unfortunately much gets the press and loot to boot. Many “artists” are merely technically talented with the media they use, yet the message is void or falls flat- but the public knows not the difference so these turds make bank. Although becoming wealthy via art is a dream many of us creative/arty types fantasize about, those of us who live in the throes of our creative passions are happy to sell pieces when ever we do, at prices we find appropriate. Creating for the sheer necessity in and of itself and experiencing joy in doing so is what being an artist is. Other than that, one is either a handy craftsman- or is contemptibly obnoxious. I know both aforementioned types and steer clear.

Oink

I personally make a variety of art. Some is utilitarian, some is not. Some of the creative endeavors I indulge in fall under the taboo craft category [I am not ashamed, nor will I insist you call it fine art] and others are just fun nonsense, often with googly eyes and/or glitter. I know the difference and price accordingly, or I happily gift much of it away.

Thanks, but what is it?

As I was looking at the work which was displayed today, I noticed myself bubbling up with some intense feelings. Not because I was all sappy and emo about the show's diverse content or it's underlying current, but because I too want to effect people with my art (more than I currently am,) be it in the utilitarian or fine art format. I want people to feel the feelings I am experiencing along with me, first-hand, through my art. I want to provoke more thought in people as well. Sure, sometimes beautiful objects are simply inspiring in and of themselves in their own right as well, but I want more. I need more. And I want to share that rich marrow of life with others. I feel as if it is my responsibility as an artist as well, to contribute to the building up of the current culture we live in. It cannot be left to the pop fad creators any longer, with such sub-par drivel being mass produced for the sheeple. That's irresponsible and plays to the lowest common denominator. Times are evolving and so should the mirroring of it evolve. I am more than happy to do my meagre part.

Getting you from A to B now even faster!

I want to share with whoever appreciates or seeks out art- my own soul-full reverie and expansion, joy and bliss, humor and sass... and of course- Love. I want people to look at it, to hold it and to feel it deeply and congruently enough that they are naturally inspired to pass those expressions on to others as well. A passive yet direct engaging with kindred souls. Yum.

There's no place like OM...

Off and on, in my creative past, I have made waves of expressive art which did inspire esoteric thought or profound emotion etc, in small bits. Years have come and gone since I regularly created with that type of potency, and mostly- not since I worked primarily as a photographer. Art modalities and materials have shifted and morphed, as have I. Time to bring my cyclic life full circle and return to the passion beneath the passion. Flow forth from the deep well of intention. 

And create like my life depends on it... because it does.

Making art is the bees knees!

Spread the Love

I said I would post what I have been up to in relation to my absence here on the blob-site when I had some more time, and the dust settled.
I have been a busy woman all summer long. 

No, the dust isn't settling, but I am adapting to the fact that the earth is seemingly spinning faster than before- or perhaps it is my perception of it which has shifted gears. 

 I have long nails now [huh?,] unruly brown hair [not pink or whatevs] and am doing some cool freelance teaching. I am experiencing other interesting changes which have been molding me into the latest Violet 3.0 as well. 

Perfect example:
I am taking each day one moment at a time, instead of fretting and nervously anticipating and such. Carrying on in that fashion only made life suck, so it had to go. 

Accept change as a good thing each time, and it is.

What I have been up to is synchronicity. And Love. 

"WTF?!?!?" you say. 

Let me tell you.

I have mentioned in the past that I was into astrology and tarot and other divination modalities. I have been spending more time contemplating, sharing ideas about and studying metaphysics all this summer than ever before. It has lead me to another wonderful group of like-minded folks with whom I share stories with and learn from. I am now involved on a higher level with the astrological website and have been spending much of my time getting used to my new cyber-home there. 

Can you feel the shifts taking place?

In times of transition and evolution, it can be difficult to gauge who will and who won't be receptive &/or supportive* to said changes. The time wasn't right for me to share. But I am here now and I wanted to blab about it...

In short, the changes are big and small, but all important regardless. 

~I started capitalizing my I s, as a way to put myself out there more seriously- even if it's subtle. 

~I no longer feel the need to be as bitchy. I am still inclined to emote snarkilly, but it is much more selective now. 

SnArky, NOT SnOrky!

~I am letting lots of baggage go. My body is even changing in response to the shift in my spirit. I have been forgiving the creators of wounds from my past, myself included.
I have let more friends go from my circle, in peace and without judgement. 

Let it go.

~I am feeling calm and happy- regardless of circumstances in my life dictating otherwise. I don't feel like being a jerkoff smartass right now. I still have my acidic wit and penchant for silly banter, worry not. I just don't want to be on the merry-go-round of spewing negative words any more. I want to continue to magnetize goodness and Love into my sphere. Like I have been doing.  

The Orb knows!

I was driving two weeks ago in town when I looked to my left and who did I see at the traffic light? 

My old boss- the cunty one who fired me for not over-charging her customers- yeah, her- the one I blobbed about HERE was idly sitting in her new Prius, rear bumper plastered with self-reighteous cliches. What a tool. After I recognized it was her ugly head I was staring at, you know what I felt?

Nothing.

No hatred, no anger, no false sense of compassion. 

Nothing. 

And it hit me-

I am doing great- In spite of anything, anyone, or any notion I may have invested in prior which would dictate my feeling miserable. I know we all change and grow. 

I couldn't have said it better myself!

I am not a completely different person, just a more grounded, pleasant me. My blob will have to follow suit. Until there's some dumbassed crap I have to share. 

Then you'd better believe that I will rant on again!

In leu of the Love being passed around lately, Psycho Babbling Basher has bestowed me with an award! Please check her blobs out. Make sure you say hi to her, and that Violet sent you! 

YES!

Along with this tolkien of appreciation, came a few questions.

 Let's take a gander at them shall we?

EIGHT EASY TAG QUESTIONS:


0. What makes you laugh, smile or giggle? Farts- almost every time. So what?!?

1. What are your dreams for your future? Travel for work- getting paid to write, make and teach- Art & Soul
2. If you are to go to a cruise, where would it be and why? Penelope Cruz- caliente!
3. How would you spend your vacation time and with whom? Mediterranean trip- with my lover
4. If given a chance, what life would you choose? Your life now or your past? Huh? Is there any question... the past is OVER. Good riddance. Yes to NOW!
5. Is there something that you wished before when you were young but you didn’t get it? A camel. My mom said camels were too big to live under the porch. Dang those tall camels!
6. Have you been in a situation where you might have given up but still you chose to move on? Almost daily at one point. But I am here to weave these tales now, right?!?
7. Is their someone in your life who has been your source of strength and inspiration? That's a tough one... I have many inspiring people in my life, and others I do not know personally, but whom I draw strength from by observing their lives. I think about great visual and musical artists and creative types too, as inspirations- often. My aunt Lorraine, Lily, Jim, and more who I know who inspire me / Julie Taymor and JayZ- who I do not know yet.

[Pardon the 0-7 instead of 1-8 above... I snafu'd the formatting, and couldn't care less @ fixing it.]

And to continue to spread the LOVE, I pass this butterfly {effect} award to:

Flip @ Hill Blocks View for cracking me up and being a wicked awesome smarty.

Lucy @ How to Hate Everything for her sass and regular tgif spinach and artichoke dip references.

Rafa's Rude Blog for it's perfectly timed inappropriateness.
Katy @ Lesbians in My Soup for her random blend of political and everyday thoughts.

AND

Al @ Penwasser's Place for telling stories that make me happy and sad, gratefully.

* I don't care who's against me. I only care about who is with/for me. 

Thank YOU, Bushmills!!!

I know, I know, I have abandoned my post! Bad Violet! Very Bad indeed, I need a Spankin! Ow!

Like pseudo deep-sea fishing blindfolded at night, I will attempt to grab the information from memory about that fateful night in August. 

The one which began with a rocks glass- filled with some delicious whiskey. Let me start properly, in the beginning, okay?

Our friends were in state from the corn-belt of the USA for a wee visit. After a crap stay at some shanty cabin, they decided to flip for a few evenings at a resort. Swanky temp abode it was, my friends, very swanky. My girlfriend insisted on treating us to mani-pedi action, which she would write off on her business expense account. Who was I to argue... and seeing as how there was at least 45 minutes to kill before we had to go, we had a drop of poison.

It was only 3 pm.

Mani-pedi treatment was lovely. I never had been before. I saw Dateline (TM) some years back during an expose about nail salons being nasty and I got soo creeped out, I decided to never go. 

But since we were at a fancy ass spa- I said: Bring it. And bring it we did. 

Two more glasses of whiskey, that is. 

Right into the spa. 

Cheers, Bitches!

I did not show you the clear photographic affects of our empty stomachs on the spirits, no I did not. In order to protect the so-called innocent, which, as you guessed, we were not. 

I digress- anyhoo. 

We decided to stay in our undergarments and the plush 30 pound robes, instead of changing back into jeans, and risk f'n up our nails and took the cocktails outside- while K. had a smoke. It was pouring at this point. We stood under the awning, like a couple of drunk spa hookers, drinking and carrying on like we do- not quietly... Bringing some class to the joint. 

You are welcome, spa resort!

The pretty garden in the front of the resort.

After our nails dried- and we had another glass or two each of the Bushmills, we needed grub. So off we went to some local watering hole with food, and ordered up some fine fare. Who ordered shots? Your guess is as good as mine.

Down the hatch they went.

It is said that I ordered raviolli. I ate 3.

Shall we tally up thus far?

Okay, I had like 4 rocks glasses before eating my 3 raviolli. 

And wine and shots with dinner.

So- it should not shock anyone to see the night swiftly progress into a bar-fight...

Why do people say the dumbest shit, and start fights? (Myself included.)

Oh yeah, Thank You Bushmills!

The 12 year-old waitress must have been embarrassed. We were fighting among ourselves. Yelling and crying included. I didn't want to hear the cocaine story one more f'n time. I even asked J. nicely to shut the f up. But some people run their mouths on and on and on...

We had to leave.

Who the hell are these chaps?

Sometime during the 10 minute drive back to the resort, I must have been calmed enough to make peace, so the night could progress happily, naturally. The rain cleared up and the moonlight shone in and out of the wispy cloudscape. The night had promise. K said she'd never been in the ocean before [gasp!] and I insisted that we get our asses down to the sea- STAT.

There was even a mystical unicorn.

Okay, maybe there wasn't a unicorn, but it was magical out! We donned our fancy robes [the lady @ the spa said we could return them before they left the resort.] and some panties, and went to the shore. 

It was more like this. 

Gorgeous, even without a unicorn.

We re-filled and brought down the last 2 of the 6 glasses from the room [where were the other 4?] with us to the ocean, and like a couple of rowdy teens, we played in loudly the ocean until our guys sauntered down to see what's up. Perhaps we were making quite a racket. Like the Kracken 2.0!

Whazzzupppp, yo?

There were giggles from the peanut gallery, letting us know there was a bunch of teenaged boys watching. Did I fail to mention that I insisted we throw caution to the wind and just skinny-dip?

Oh, I must have forgotten to tell you.

It's more a light brown Bush. 

We scampered in and out of the ocean for hours. It was great, perfect. I love that crap. Our guys were not as excited as we were to act the nude fools. Oh well. 

We returned to the room and co-showered before passing out at around 4am. 

When we awoke four hours later, we noticed:

Our robes were both soaking wet, covered in muddy sandy goo, leaking said liquid all over the place.

I was missing my panties. My favorite pair... Dang.

And just between K and myself, we downed 1.5 bottles of the 'Mills. And all 6 glasses were gone.

Dang Indeed!

Like this, but the tan lace was not as wide on the waist.

Perhaps they floated to sea like a message in a bottle. 

Perhaps they were picked up by a wayward dog on the beach. 

Perhaps worse.

Either way, I had a night to remember forever. What can I say, but:

Thank You, Bushmills!

Cheeze-It Apology

Hey there my long lost Cheeze-Its!

It's your favorite long-lost Violet here, and I am typing this as I travel on a bus to Boston.
The guy across the aisle is looking at porn* on his laptop, and I immediately thought of YOU, my dears!

Teddy Bear Hamster not included.*

I wanted to sincerely apologize for not being gratuitous as of late. Especially by NOT reading and adoring YOUR blobs! I feel neglectful! But hey, what the hell, I am not crying about it, and I know you're not either. I bet there's a ton of love going on here... You ARE loving each other right? 

{With only minor snarkiness, which is to be expected, right?}

How Doth I love Thee, oh dedicated blobbers?!?!? 

This much:

'Nuf said.

It's Sun in Leo time.
For me that means a heightened state of energy both within me and all around me.

BuzzBuzz, Bitches!

The double-dong Denzel of the snack world.

I will share of whence I am in absentia, with you all,  in a week or so... where the Vi you know and LOVE is at. 

This nugget is named Frodo. I shit you not.

But stay tuned in the next day or so for a primo example of what Leo-isms I spoke of...
There's a juicy one a-brewin in me brain!

I heard YOU like it caliente, too!

P.S. My B-day is closely creeping up too, so there.

fancy gowns and award shows

and tonight, in the silky cheetah jammy pants and the black walgreens (TM) tank top, 

we have moi, sashaying down the red carpet, bloated and thirsty.

okay, i'm sitting on the floor. 

there is no red carpet. 

but everyone who's anyone was there!

all seriousness aside, it really is awards night, my little cheeze-its!

and who better to honor than myself?

i'm a winner alright! 

i love dapper squirrels, and wine, so win-win for me, right?

who cares that this pic makes absolutely no frieken sense?

would anyone on the interweb dispute the deliciousness of cupcakes?

just as i suspected, no-one.

accept.

this fucking mess is awesome

{my favorite award actually. hideous/awesome}

yes i am.

but i'm lime-esque, 

or so i have been told.

not really.

but i have been called sour.

just because whomever made the pie the right way, 

i will accept.

i really enjoy fruit pie.

yuuummmm.

pie.

because i use fancy phrases.

and swear-words often.

how sweet.

see, i told you!

comes with a pump.

and lube.

the roses on the shoe soften the blow- 

when this shoe makes toe-to-ass contact.

never seen anywhere near the proper grammar award

is he holding a sock puppet, and a goblet? 

i really do hope so.

accept.

i am so tickled pink!

all this fanfare makes me want to toss the pigskin around!

me too, spongebob, me too!

i'm huge in italy

all over the lonely world, actually

like here

and here, mon

and especially here

but i have one question:

where's the glitter i deserve?

that's a bit more interesting.

at least it's dong-ish.

speaking of dongs...

wait...

what?

what's going on here?

feel free to grab any award and give them to yourself. 

or grab one or five and share with anyone whose you blob you read, 

or even better-

a stranger.