The Golden Angel and the Dark

I am now the mother of two boys, both of whom, for the moment, are rather Angelic.

please disregard my inability to sketch baby heads.

I know this is not a state of affairs that is likely to last for the next 12-18 years, so I figure I'd better enjoy it while I can.

You may recall that TLG was not originally on board with getting a Little Brother, but that we eventually brought him around.  Well he has stayed around, and he is stoked as hell about LBB.  He helps me with diapers, lets me know when I need to feed Little Brother (you know- in case I hadn't noticed the grousing infant) and bestows millions of kisses upon him.  For his part, LBB is still kind of indifferent to TLG, although he did smile at an appropriately-timed moment in response to TLG tickling his feet, so who knows.  Strangers things, Horatio.

When we got the anatomy scan of LBB the tech switched it over to 3D, so we got to see LBB's facial features- and we were pretty shocked by how much he looked like TLG.  Once he made his Exterior Debut, however, two Main Differences jumped out immediately:

1) He has his father's dark hair
2) He has his mother's cleft chin

TLG was born with sort of medium-brown hair, and it shocked exactly no one when, after he rubbed that initial fuzz off, the new growth came in golden.  Blond/e babies are fairly ubiquitous in both of our families (Nathan notwithstanding), so it was more or less expected that any child of ours would follow suit.  LBB is the first grandchild on either side (that's one in fourteen, mind you) to come out with truly dark hair, and we're hopeful he'll grow up to be as black-maned as his father.

As for the chin- I'll admit, I was a bit wistful when TLG showed absolutely no evidence of my ancestral chin-dimple, and in fact I spent probably way too much time staring at the aspect in question, attempting to will an indentation into existence (and possibly also poking at it in an attempt to encourage one to develop... don't judge me...)  So when I first saw LBB from not a crown-down angle (visibility is limited for that immediate, skin-to-skin contact) I literally let out a little gasp of delight and squeaked, "He has my chin!"

See, the beautiful thing about TLG is that he blends our familial features so perfectly that it's really hard to consistently say, "Oh he looks like so-and-so!"  More often it's a certain expression he makes that has us going, "Oh yeah, he's related to Cousin _____ for sure."  But with LBB it's like he's taken specific traits that are immediately identifiable as one or the other of us, and arranged them in the best possible way.

Other differences include:

-LBB has a wider mouth (but whenever he makes a moue it looks exactly like TLG's, especially in conjunction with their identical noses)
-LBB has a wider jawline, which right now codes as a rounder face
-LBB is built on longer/narrower proportions than TLG, and in fact he may end up being a throwback to my paternal grandfather, judging by his feet

Granted it's been all of three weeks since LBB emerged, so we'll see how it all pans out.  But in the meantime- genetics, man.  Some crazy stuff.

Angel Up Unarmed

I was reading a book, and for some reason the description in a small passage struck me as so serene and lovely that I immediately wanted to illustrate it, which led to a very quick sketch:

Mmm, beeswax.

Of course, after I finished that, and the first quick wash of color, I kept reading to let said wash of color dry, and discovered a few paragraphs later that said angel is supposed to have a sword and shield.  Whoops.

Anyway, it was a nice little thing to remind myself how how I can use watercolor to capture quick, unrefined impressions.  I look forward to trying it out on the go in Maui.

Recapturing Christmas

Let's be honest, here.  Christmas is not really my "thing".  Hasn't been for a long time.  Say, oh, eighteen years or so.  Don't get me wrong- I'm not one of those bah-humbug kind of people- my lack of enthusiasm in no way makes me feel like others should have a similar lack.  But in terms of genuine Christmas Spirit, I'm more of a faker than a maker.

There is, however, and antidote to my habitual holiday "meh".  And that antidote, dear readers, is children.  Children and Christmas are friggin' awesome.  And when I'm around children, I can submerse myself in their Awesome, and leave all my emotional bullshit baggage behind.  Double Awesome Plus.

So Eel and Bee are visiting, along with their parents, and we all went out to the Festival of Lights.  Lots to see, lots to do (lots to pet, which I was not expecting but hey, I will happily pet a Christmas bunny anytime, anywhere.)  There was even an angel, which Eel was not 100% sure he was down with:

"Can she fly?"

So I'm feelin' pretty okay about Christmas again.  Go kids.

Angel Eyes

I still haven't quite hit on how I want to do the eyes of my angels, but this is a heck of a lot closer than the weird little flames I was doing.

No time to finish wings and things...

Illuminated Angel

Style change as a result of my trip to Ireland:

The little owl was because my father-in-law leaned over and asked me to draw one.

It came out with sort of an Asian-flavor, which was unintentional.  It's a bit too geometric for my tastes, but hey- it's early yet in the evolution.

It's Biblical!

Call me a 12-year-old boy, but I was super stoked to learn about the following bible passage during today's sermon:

Let your fountain be blessed, and rejoice in the wife of your youth: a lovely deer, a graceful doe. Let her breasts fill you at all times with delight; be intoxicated always in her love.   (Proverbs 5:18-19)

Good 'ol Solomon.

Yes that is right: my husband is commanded to be delighted by my breasts at all times.  I am 100% okay with this.  Next time he starts to get irritated with me for being quarrelsome and driving him to the roof I'ma point meaningfully and be all "Hey!  Let's get some delight up in here!"

(In other news, I've decided my angels need hair as stylized as the wing and halos I give them.  And I toyed with the idea of giving them flaming eyes but right now I'm not digging it...)

On the Angles of Ankles and Angels

When I wake up in the mornings, my right ankle has almost no mobility.  I get out of bed and stump around like a little old lady, because the joint is so damn stiff.  But then I run through a couple of (very careful) sun salutations, and that helps loosen it up to the point where I can walk like (almost) normal again.  I go about getting dressed, and Nathan heads downstairs to fetch me breakfast- which I need to eat before I can take my painkiller.  Last night was the last of my prescribed 800mg, so this morning I take 400mg, and steel myself for a more-aching day.

It's not so bad, actually- I get to work and kick up my feet (the boss is out of the office, which suits my gimpy self just fine) and study the difference between the two ankles:

(And then I draw an angel, because hell- why not?)

My right ankle probably would not look swollen to anyone who did not know what it looked like before, or if they did not have the left ankle to compare it to.  But swollen it is, and stiff, and still pretty damn colorful.

Less than two weeks before we leave for Ireland.  I am a bit... trepidatious.

Wing Made Shoulder

I started to draw a wing, but it turned into a shoulder.  There is something appropriate to that, I think.

And then I erased the original curve...

My usual Tuesday Belay Buddy wasn't at the gym today, so I did some bouldering on my own (and tore up my elbow, which means I now have an impressive scab that I can't actually see without the aid of a mirror), and then hooked up with a nice lady that I've chatted with before, and tackled a 5.10 that is big on balance (and trusting in your feet).  I am a giant fan of how nice and friendly everyone is at my two main athletic outlets...

Michael's Sword

Warriors have been very much on my mind, lately, a state of being which led to today's doodle of a flaming sword done in the same style as my angel wings, because why not?

(as well as some random thoughts)

Which brings me to my next point about what sorts of images I find appropriate for Memorial Day.  I am the daughter and granddaughter and sister and niece and cousin of military men and women, and I feel pretty secure in my entitlement to an Opinion on the matter.  Which is why I will tell you that I, personally, am greatly aggravated by all these images of grieving people sprawled across graves that keep popping up on my Facebook feed.  It is not obnoxious to me because I don't think Memorial Day is important or that it shouldn't be acknowledged as something more than just a day off from work- in fact I do know that it's about and I do believe it's important that people remember that men and women have given their lives for freedom.  What aggravates me is that these particular photographs arise from one of two scenarios: either they have been set up for effect, in which case they are a slap in the face to everyone who has experienced actual loss, or else they are exploiting people's genuine suffering so that others might put self-congratulatory status updates on their Facebook page because they remember the "true meaning" of Memorial Day, one long weekend out of 365 days.  And I find both scenarios equally distasteful.

Other people's grief should not be a spectacle or a mockery.  Let us remember the sacrifices made, yes- but let us do it with dignity and respect for all parties involved.

Love Angel Music Baby

Partially inspired by this song, which is from an album that I pretty much have on non-stop repeat when I lay down colors.

"And although I was burning, you're the only light..."

Progression With Puppy

Isis had a pretty big day today.

This morning I took her for an extra-long (for her) walk, and then this afternoon Nathan and I took her down to the waterfront.  I was a bit ... not anxious, exactly, but definitely steeled for a Less Than Agreeable Experience.  Turned out I steeled myself in vain, however, because Isis did quite well.

Not perfect, mind you.  She definitely lost her damn fool mind a few times near the beginning when she saw dogs she wanted to go be friends with- but after a while she settled down to a reasonable level of Excitement.  The best part was that she got to interact with more people, including some well-behaved children (with parents who understood about puppies).  I must say that I'm very grateful that people who Know Dogs take one look at her and know she's a puppy: it makes her behavior less embarrassing (pulling on the leash, etc).  Although it was funny when one woman said, "Oh how cute!  What is she, about eight months?"

"No ma'am- she hasn't hit four months yet."

"Oh my!"

Yeah, we know.  But she did get lots and lots of comments on how beautiful she is, so at least our toddling terror is attractive...

Speaking of attractive, I made two birthday cards today.  One of them is so specific to the person that I'm going to hold off posting it until the birthday in question (but I will post it because I like it quite a bit), but the other one doesn't give any clues as to who is was drawn for, and thus I feel safe posting it today:

Is this birthday card FOR YOU?!  Who knows!  (Well, you will, in a week or two...)

Yeah, that's right- another angel.  After I got started I wished I had a larger card to work with, so that I could extend the wings out.  Ah well- perhaps next time.

Send Me an Angel to Draw

I like to draw androgynous angels.

If you've seen what you think is a male or female angel in my sketch books, what you need to know is that those are just winged people- not actual "angels".  Not as I draw them.  Anyway, normally I draw them with feathered wings and a stylized halo, but recently I've been making the wings stylized, too.  Nathan really likes my angels, which is a wonderful encouragement to draw more of them, and this was the one that poured out of my pen last night while watching Glee:

You may want to click to embiggen.

I sketched it in pen and then darkened it up with sharpie.  I may revisit it with color... plus let's face it:  Photoshop would let me get those wings perfectly symmetrical.

(How do you like to envision angels?)

Robustitude

I do believe I promised a more robust posting for this evening- which you shall have, but not, perhaps, robust in the manner you might have imagined. Rather than a bunch of typing, I shall share with you the results of several hours laboring to get the hang of photo-shop. If I'd been smart I'd have saved it in steps to demonstrate the hilarity of my floundering, but I didn't. Dang. Also, I feel I must warn you that I've gone insane with the gradient tool, something akin to the way a sixth grader might. Generally this is considered poor form, but in this instance the finished piece is supposed to be a mock-up for a friend's tattoo for her ankle, measuring less than four inches high, so I figured gradient was probably the simplest way to get my point across to the tattoo artist (yeah, I know, I know- when the hell will I stop farming out my work and learn to do it my own damn self?) Anyway here you are- proof that even while I'm sick I can still be moderately productive. Obviously I haven't laid the line work back over it yet, but all in good time, my dears.

She wanted the pink ribbon with an angel, and this is what I've come up with. I'm hoping she likes it, but even if she doesn't, it was good for me to spend some time with the tablet (not the tablet, not yet. But soon...)

In other news, I spent most of the day in the bed sleeping, or else on the couch. Whilst on the couch, I watched The Young Victoria. Iiiii liked it. But it's probably good that Nate was still at work- too much in the way of feelings for him to have enjoyed it. But he brought me pistachio ice cream and saltines, so how's that for a damn fine husband? Also, he's the one who was giving me lessons in photo shop (without laughing, mind you), so bully for him all around.

Here, check out his photo:


(Lowering)

And then? Wallow in the robustitude of this post. Wallow.

Differentiate

"It is Good," He said, voice rolling across the hills like the newly Created thunder. The angel next to Him bit what on a mortal would be called its lip.

"It is Good..." it said.

"...but? I am sensing a 'but', Raguel. Don't dissemble, just because I could unmake your existence."

"Well, my Effervescently Incandescent One, it's just that... well, there just isn't much to differentiate it from the celestial plane."

"Should there be?"

"Not necessarily, O Delight of Our Days. And Nights. And-"

"Yes, yes, I'm delightful. Back to this differentiating between the mortal world and the heavenly realm." He was silent for a moment, the sort of silence that weighs heavy upon the Universe. The angel wasn't certain, but it thought He might be tugging at His beard. Finally He spoke again.

"Do you know, Raguel, I believe you're right. What's the point of making the two separate if you can't even tell them apart? And I have just the thing for it!"

"You do, Excellently Paternal One?"

"Of course I do! Little idea I've been toying with, thought it might be interesting- bending light waves!"

"Bending them?" (It was a sign of Raguel's extreme bewilderment that he forgot to come up with an appropriate honorific.) "Won't that... ruin their perfection?"

"Well yes- but in a fascinating way. Watch!"

Raguel watched, and tried not to gape at the results. His Creator smiled delightedly.

"There, you see! I'm thinking of calling it... color."


(Layers)

Apocalypse How?

The angel was doing its best not to look too nervous. It wasn't certain why it was trying, since He was omniscient, and all, but still... it had some pride.

"I'm sorry but... I don't understand, Excelsis One. The flood worked so well the last time- why not go that route again?"

"Because, Raguel," the Creator sighed, obviously feeling burdened. "Because of the damn dirty atheists."

Raguel flinched. When He called someone "damned", He meant it. "I- the atheists, Glorious One? Will they not be wiped out just as easily by flood as any other mortal?"

"Yes, well, that's rather the problem, isn't it? Back in the good old days, I could send down a flood, or a meteor, and by Me people knew that I was pissed. These days they start talking sun flares and weather patterns and el neen-whatever, and go about their sordid business, with nary a sacrifice in sight. It's depressing. I mean, is it too much to ask for a little bit of credit for One's work?"

"Of course not, Your Most Auspiciously Self-y One."

" 'Self-y One'. Hmph. That's new."

"Well yes, I just now thought of it, Lord."

"Hmph. I think I like it. Anyway the point is that if I send down legions of sleep-deprived angels with flaming swords it may not be as efficient as flooding the earth- the slaughter might not be quite as wholesale- but at least people will know it's Me sending the message, and not some made-up Mexican."

Design Flaw

Nathan and I watched Legion last night. Yes: on purpose.

I'll just wait until you're done snickering, shall I?

Okay then.

It's possible that you remember this post from a while back, in which I picked apart the squandered potential of Daybreakers. Just in case you don't feel like going back to it, here the part of that entry which is especially pertinent to tonight's entry:

"...I fully expect a thoroughly bad movie with Legion. I mean, come on- end of the world, holed up in a diner, fallen angel Michael defending the soon-to-be-mother-of-the-next-messiah from other, non-fallen angels (sent by a pissed-off God, no less) with a sword and automatic guns. Eff. Yeah. Everything about that movie sounds terrible (well, minus Paul Bettany, whom I sort of adore a lot) but that's part of the appeal for me- there's no pretending to be anything more than what it is- a movie about kicking ass. In a diner. Against freaky-deaky angels who remind us that they're just demons who haven't fallen yet. Brilliant. Social commentary on our squandering of natural resources? Um, no. Decapitation? Probably yes."

Gentle readers, I should not have hoped for decapitation; I did not receive it. And as bad a movie as I expected Legion would be- it was even worse. I'm talking it was so bad that Nathan and I agreed that Paul Bettany must have lost a friggin' bet to have been a part of it. So bad. So very, very bad.

The moment I realized that the movie had lost me was a small one- probably not even noticed by your average movie-goer. And you'll laugh because it's such a nit-picky thing, but to me it was important. There is a scene in which a (yet to be revealed as possessed) woman orders a rare steak. When they bring it out to her the damn thing is raw. Not rare- raw. And that just... it just pissed me off, readers. A rare steak is one that has been seared on the outside and left red on the inside. It is not effin' raw. So in that moment, when they felt the need to point out how creepy this woman is because she's eating her meat raw, I knew that they weren't even going to try.

The other thing that I kept exclaiming about? (Because oh yes- we MST'd the crap out of this film right from the opening credits) Surprisingly fragile angels. You'd think that celestial beings would be impervious to bullets. Or, at the very least that they couldn't be killed by them. Well you'd be wrong. Also you'd be wrong if you thought you couldn't choke an angel to death. So very wrong. As such, I kept remarking about the serious design flaws in the angels (and by the way apparently Heaven is a space ship? In the sky? Who knew!) because man- God was apparently not thinking things through on that one!

Okay, enough blasphemy for tonight. All I can say is, I hope someone with a shred of non-suckiness can maybe take the bare bones of Legion and turn it into something worth reading (perhaps a comic? Eh?). As with Daybreakers, the concept was pretty great (especially had they chosen not to take themselves so damn seriously) but the execution? ::shudder::


Also? Check out the finished (and highly adorable if I do say so myself) product:

Adorable!

Camera One vs Camera Two

There are two parts to tonight's post- the first part was written as a response to Nathan's photo, after he had taken it. The second part was written much earlier today (in between jobs one and two, actually) as a response to the concept of Nathan's photo. Once I saw it I felt the need to change it, but I still liked what I'd already written so I thought I'd share. Hope you enjoy the two different... aspects...

***

There were a lot of good things to be said about being sent on a mission, but Rafe had always felt that the most interesting aspect by far was… well, was seeing what aspect one got to take on. After all, angels don’t really have a “true form”, per se. Their “true form” was, in fact, formless: more akin to a concentration of energy than a shape, and not certainly nothing that observable by humans. Which is why, when being sent on certain missions, angels had to take on corporeal form. And that corporeal form was entirely dependent upon whatever person they’d been sent to aid.

You see, every person has a different concept of what an angel is. To be certain, the vast majority feel that they are people-shaped, and generally sport wings, but even within those parameters there is an amazing variety. For instance, on this particular night Rafe found itself to be wearing the body of a human in its prime, and a certifiably male one at that (which meant Rafe must think of himself as “himself”, rather than a gender-neutral identifier). More interesting than genitalia, however, was the fact that he was covered in smooth blue-black skin patterned with a deep gold iridescence, and sporting a pair of midnight blue wings tipped in pewter. A very pleasing combination, aesthetically speaking, and one he’d never worn before. It made him highly curious to meet the human who thought of angels in such terms.

He spread the wings out for balance as he turned his face up into the rain- so nice to feel the physical experience of rain again, instead of just its essence. Being in physical form had its drawbacks- limited access to what humans might refer to as his cognitive powers, for starters- but it also had its benefits, physical touch among them. Smiling, he shook the rain off his eyelashes and set out in search of his mission.

(Surface Tension)

***

(As originally written)

Strictly speaking, he didn’t have a true form. But people had gotten it into their heads that angels were people-shaped (with wings, no less!) so whenever he took corporeal form it tended to be that of the traditional human concept of an angel: wings and all. Oh, sometimes he’d get lucky and be assigned someone with a more creative idea of what constituted an angel (he’d rather enjoyed the time he’d gotten to wear a dog’s form) but for the most part it was feathers and damned inconvenient robes.

He took a moment to shake them both out, trying to rid himself of the rain drops before he was too thoroughly soaked. He really did hate the smell of wet feathers, almost as much as he hated the way wet fabric clung to his… regions. That was another awkward thing about this current mission- his charge had very definite ideas about gender assignment, which meant that, for the time being, he was a he rather than a conveniently gender-neutral it. And while the Creator surely knew what it was doing when it divided humanity into males and females, and he was sure it was a good idea within the grand design, Rafe rather preferred the route the Creator had taken for angels. Taking on flesh carried more than enough restrictions without the added irritation that genitals and hormones provided.

Rafe sighed and adjusted his perch.

Regarding the Breathing of Life into Stories

So one of the problems with having a story to tell is trying to find the right way to tell it. Humorous or serious? First person or third? Start with a shocking revelation, or leave a trail of subtle crumbs until the reader can put them together into a delicious cake of Awareness? For that matter, start in the middle, the end, or the more conventional beginning? It is a problem I was wrestling with today, and it turned into three potential beginnings to a story (and there are more in my brain). I'll share them with you now:


Beginning the First

Alone. I am alone, now, my earthly brothers and sisters long since gone back to Him. By all rights I should be an old, old man, living out my final days here in this sunlit land, surrounded by seas the color of Heaven’s shadow, waiting for that time when I close my eyes for a nap, and never again open them. But I am not an old man. And I never shall be.

I thought when I Fell that I would become a man as He did, able to die as He was destined to. In retrospect, such an assumption was foolish- after all, Lucifer didn’t become a man, nor did his followers. But I thought that since my Fall was voluntary (more akin to a Jump) and my circumstances different, the results would be different as well. And they were- but not in the way I thought they would be.

Oh, I appear to be mortal to any who might see me- I inhabit a body of all-too-human flesh, without wings, without celestial fire. But I do not age, and I will not die. I may hunger or thirst, but these things will not kill me. You may beat me, or even crucify me, but I will not bruise or bleed, and my bones will not break from any force you can apply. I do not need the air in my lungs for anything more than speech- and even that I may do mind-to-mind, if I so desire.

Of course, there are so few worth talking to since He left.


Begining the Second

It is funny how none of the books mentioned bedraggled young man who showed up in the stable a few days after the child’s birth. Of course, he was neither shepherd nor king, which made him difficult to fit into the narrative, so maybe that explains it. No one really knew what to make of him- he didn’t ask for anything, just seemed to like being around the baby, caring for him and for Mary, and Joseph too when he’d let him. All Mary knew was that she liked him immensely.

“He reminds me of someone,” she told her husband, who was quite frankly growing irritated with the curiosity their child was arousing. “And I feel better when he’s around. Don’t be so rude.”

So Joseph tried to curb his rudeness, but he could not help but feel strange about the young man who- when pressed- called himself Johnael. The truth was, Johnael reminded Joseph of someone, too- but the thought didn’t comfort him the way it did his wife.

Johnael disappeared the day they headed back to Nazareth. Mary was concerned about him, but Joseph pointed out that the young man had obviously survived over two decades just fine without Mary mothering him, and doubtless he would continue to get along just fine from here on out.

“Besides which,” he added, “Don’t you have more than enough to worry about with little Joshua, there?” Mary conceded her husband’s point: this was her first time as a mother, and as shockingly easy to handle as Joshua was, she did find her hands full (sometimes literally) keeping away all the small animals that seemed to want to curl up with him.

“The angles never said anything about this,” she muttered as she removed two sparrows and a hare from her son’s makeshift cradle.

Before long they were settled back into their lives in Nazareth, and they forgot all about the strange, quiet young man. Joshua matured swiftly, and it seemed as though hardly any time at all had passed before he had left home to strike out on his own. But Mary knew that time had passed- all she had to do was look at her once-smooth hands, now somewhat gnarled, and beginning to stiffen with age as she entered the middle of her fourth decade.

She found herself glancing down at her hands the day her son brought home a group of his friends- for there amongst the young men was one who appeared younger than them all- but who looked just exactly the same as he had when she’d last seen him, thirty some-odd years ago.

Johnael was back.


Beginning the Third

What do you do when the love of your life- of your very existence- decides to split Himself away from Himself, and send that part to become a mortal, destined to suffer and eventually die? Do you stay with the immortal part in heaven, and observe the unfolding of time as you have done for millennia? Or do you cast off your own semi-divinity to follow the mortal part to earth- to Fall?

At least my Fall did not hurt, as Lucifer’s is said to. I think that is because it was done to him against his will, whereas I gave up my wings and took on flesh of my own free will.

Free will- some mortals say we do not have it, but we do. We just have a better insight into the consequences of our choice- and such knowledge usually leads to better choices.

But not always.



So there you have it- three potentials. And I might not even go any of those routes. What do you think?