Sayonara, 2007.



It was a very good year, a hard year, and now it's over.

Listing it up is more impressive than recalling it piece by piece. I bought a house, travelled to Phoenix (twice), New York (twice), Maine (twice), Rhode Island (twice), Maryland and San Francisco (twice). I became an aunt. I finished about half my book. This year marked the first time I began to view myself as becoming recognized in the larger comics community as a fellow professional. It brought out some of the best work I've ever done. And again, I've been lucky enough to meet and grow close with some very fascinating and incredible people.

So the close of this year finds me in a different and perhaps much better place than the outset. I can only hope to say that again this time next year. What do I hope for the coming months?

My greatest resolution is to COMPLETE MY BOOK. A side- or sub-resolution to this is to lay off the pressure I've put myself under in hopes of accomplishing this. No one likes to feel forced and the work itself reflects this. So, sub-res: get back to enjoying what I do best. COMICS!!!

I'd like to continue to travel, and perhaps spend a longer period of time in another area. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, New York calls to me, and I'm always fondest of Portland when returning after a trip. Plus too many of my friends are too far away.

I need to be a little kinder to myself and others. Back when I first moved to town I flirted with the idea of a tattoo on the back of my hand (where all my reminders go) of a symbol from a certain children's anime representing the Crest of Kindness. I might not go as far as to carve this symbol into me, but I can at least remember its meaning, or re-draw it with Sharpies every so often. It's a good thing to keep in mind.

LESS INTERNET TIME.

I also think this is a perfect time to mix it up and start doing some illustrations, color and otherwise, commissioned and otherwise. Sketching for fun and not towards an end. Getting back into art for its own pleasure, not under an obligation. And maybe, just maybe, I'll learn to get better about NOT COMPARING MYSELF TO EVERYONE I KNOW!!! Jeez!

Oh, and I'd like to get better at playing drums. Okay, enough for this year. I'm satisfied.


...and I'm OUT.

Bird nerd.

I spend most of my day at my computer, staring out of the windows into my and my neighbors' backyards. When it pours rain, as it's doing today, I feel comforted by the smoke rising from the chimney of the house on the next street over. The backyard directly next door has a series of leaning brick columns barely supporting a decomposing fence, and with the stained dark brick and moss overcoat, I'm reminded of the aged tombstones and monuments in my favorite place on earth, the Evergreen Cemetery in Portland, Maine. The magnolia is already budding little silver buds, while the rosebush is still clinging to one fuschia blossom cluster despite the winds. Lately a wonderful group of the most incredible little birds has discovered the bird feeder hanging under the back patio roof, and they're begun perching on the fence directly outside my window to get a look at me.


Being the nature nerd I (secretly?) am, I looked them up in my slightly water-damaged bird book from the Bins. As far as I can tell, the little black-headed hoppers are Oregon juncos. Makes sense, I suppose. For some reason these guys just charm me the way ordinary sparrows don't. I've never seen them in town before, and I hope they stick around after winter.

I used to read bird and mammal identification books often as a kid, copying the illustrations exactly and pedantically quizzing my family. I used to lament that the bluebirds in my forest were the Eastern variety, with more white and black bars, instead of the Western bluebird with the smooth blue heads and shoulders bordered by a soft gray vest. The first week I visited Oregon, I saw a Western bluebird and immediately realized what it was. Now I have a mated pair in my backyard, and like all jays their appeal is very limited, but I can't forget what a reminder they are that I'm living on a different coast, very far from where I grew up.

I hauled all my Xmas-present packages to the post office yesterday on my freight bike, and today braved the rains to attend my first sorely needed (no pun intended) chiropractic appointment. I've been in constant pain for the last few weeks, and it's turned me away from sitting at the drafting table and working. This is the last thing I need. So while I still have my precious health insurance, I'm going to load up on all the care I've denied myself over the last uninsured decade. My spine crackled like a bag of pretzels when the chiro popped me into place. What a relief. Now back to the grindstone!

Things are looking brighter, figuratively and chromatically.

Between bursts of painting the cabinets, walls and trim of the kitchen, I've been snaking back and forth between a few separate comics projects. In the down time of winter, lying awake in bed at night unable to sleep, I've hashed out some important details of the next few large projects after Ivy. It's time to reach a little farther and bring out some new inventiveness. I have to make this fun again.

My sad little sketchbook has been visited more frequently. My new ski jacket brings me a rainbow of smiles. I'm stretching my legs stylistically in the new comic shorts. While you ponder the puns in that last sentence, I'll slip you my big news: my story for Papercutter #4, Graveyard, was selected for inclusion in the anthology The Best American Comics 2008 - by none other than Lynda Barry. I've never felt so honored in my life. I'm floored.

Housebound.

My contribution to the Missed Connections comic anthology, completed two days late.

It's pouring. POURING. As a result, I haven't left the house in several days, not even to go to the coffee shop twenty blocks away. You might think I'd take this time to work on my book, but no - I've been fielding an unusually heavy workload from Apparent, catching up on Mario Galaxy and unlocking songs in the sexist and disappointing Guitar Hero 3, and attempting to wrap up a number of small comics for upcoming anthologies. I've also become aware of several fairly intense leaks in my house's foundation, resulting in small waterfalls directly into the basement, and there's a bit of stress in the process of trying to figure out how to implement some sort of French drain system to divert the hundreds of gallons of standing water away from the house. Fuck winter.

I haven't felt like being very social, and what I should be doing (comics) seems to be just a little bit out of reach. I pace around and run treadmills mentally. My house is a slovenly mess, and while I pick at piles of crap now and then, no progress is made. I've let certain dormant family issues rise to the surface. I've got a head cold. I haven't ridden my bike in weeks. Someone kill me!

The worst part is that I have this swelling desire to create, but I can't seem to make my meat machine sit down at the drawing table and git'er done. I spent a lovely long weekend in San Francisco last week on a business/pleasure trip, and I came back to town ready and rarin' to get going once again on Ivy. So what the fuck happened? This can't continue. I'll keep you posted, faithful internet.