Sorry I’ve been all neglect-y for a bit.
There’s been a lot going on,
while simultaneously having nothing going on.

Amazing, that.

The wedding plans are still on for February.

I’m moving.

I haven’t been able to make Good Art (sorry, Mr. Gaiman).

Planning for LauraJane’s baby shower.

Mostly holding together.


One of the things that I find confusing
is that for someone who has never really been ambitious,
losing my job (four times now)
makes me feel more pointless, worthless, and stupid
than any other disaster that has wandered my way.

I’m just afraid that I’ll be under or unemployed
until I hit my 40s,
at which point no one will ever want to hire me
because I will be Too Damn Old,
and there will be approximately 1.5 billion 20-year-olds
willing to work longer hours for less pay for any job I may be interested in.


Does anyone else feel like this?


ps (We are still doing Crossfit–I’ve just been losing my little post-it notes that have our WODs written on them…)


Yesternight’s and Last Week’s Workouts:


10 tuck jumps
10 spiderman pushups
10 L-lifts (hanging from monkey bars, lift legs to 90 degree angle)
20 jumping jacks



15 squats
15 pushups
15 tuck jumps
15 V-ups/tuck ups (alternating)


Tonight I will be taking a certain mopey corgi
for a very, very long walk–
she’s been with me for the last two days,
and can’t understand why I’m not playing with her
instead of staring at my boring computer,
trying to whack out a shiny new resume.

Poor corgwyn.
She neither toils not nor does she spin.

Unless there are treats.
Then she totally spins.

Poor Wee Mousie:


Maybe yesterday was a premonition.

I was laid off from my job this morning.

It was (as these things usually are) very sudden–
and in small graces,
my manager and the head of my office had nothing to do with the decision–
it was kind of a fell swoop coming down from the board of the company,
and they axed 19 other people along with me.


I am…everything everyone feels in this situation.

Angry, hurt, upset, depressed, worried, terrified.

Ben’s been amazing, of course.
I don’t know if we’ll have to put off the wedding.
We’re hoping we don’t.

I just can’t believe that I’m having to do this again,
barely a year later.
This is so, so fucking shitty.

After Two Years:


I got a call on Friday from Thought Equity.

They offered me a full-time job,
with benefits,
and an excellent salary.

I slept better last night than I have since August of 2009.

Thank you all for your prayers,
and for helping me to keep on trying,
even when all I wanted was to hide away.

I am so grateful.


(and I’m now going out to a raucous piano bar with faithful friends
Laura and Jessie.

I’m probably going to have a celebratory margarita. Or three. )

More Bookity Books:

But probably without blurbs.
Because it is late.
And I am le tired.


Julian, Gore Vidal

Bor.ing. I need to find out why Vidal chose to write this way,
instead of in the far more interesting and engrossing fashion of “I, Claudius”,
or most other historical narratives.
I mean, if Julian was that much of a dull turd of a Roman Emperor,
…maybe Vidal was a stickler for authenticity?

Atonement, Ian McEwan

Got considerably better in the second half of the novel.
I found the actual atoning to be both satisfying and poignant.
It’s still a rather detached story in many ways,
but I’m okay with that as a style when it comes to books set in a time of war
(Corelli’s Mandolin, for example, also does this at certain points)–
it’s accurate.

Master & Commander, Patrick O’Brian

Still needed that naval dictionary.
But loved the book overall, in spite of that.
O’Brian manages to make his readers feel like they are a part
of the sea, sky, ropes, flying jib, watches in the night,
even if they don’t know a belaying pin from a poop deck.
Jack Aubrey is a great character–
so flawed, so wonderful.
I wanted him to succeed, even though he is a rake and a scoundrel–
takes a good writer to do that.

Stardust, Neil Gaiman

One of my favorites of his.

Perfume, Patrick Süskind

Creepy–and so very Germanic.

The story centers around a man named Jean Baptiste Grenouille,
who is born without any smell.
Not any sense of smell–
but no smell, period.
Süskind paints Grenouille as an unnatural being;
one who is brought up without love,
and grows up without a moral compass.
He also has a preternatural sense of smell,
and becomes obsessed with making the perfect perfume–
for which he will commit any crime to form.

I love scents, and I love the art of perfume,
so I had an interest in this book from the outset,
which helps, I think.
There are several gross events,
particularly towards the conclusion
(which I felt failed to forward the narrative),
so reader beware.

The Maltese Falcon, Dashiell Hammett

Solid, grim, noir.
Good story, good prose.
If you’ve just seen the Bogart film,
give the book a read–
particularly if you can read it on a rainy day
in an old coffee shop.

Currently Reading:

Vindication of the Rights of Woman, Mary Wollenstonecraft Shelley

Hugo Award Winners Short Story Collection, ed. Isaac Asimov

The Known World, Edward P. Jones

White Teeth, Zadie Smith

Thematic Essays from The Metropolitan Museum of Art on Art History, Various
ed: Knew I’d forget one!

The English Patient, Michael Ondaatje


I am totally this girl. ...Well. Except for the shy thing. And the enormous Anime boobs.

(26 27 books and counting for 2011, kids!)

I Made a Pretty:


“…Freedom tasted like seawater and oranges.”
-Tana French, ‘The Likeness’

That quote ran through my head the entire time I was painting this:

I painted a great deal of this while talking to close friends on the phone…
which is rather unusual for me.

I hole up in my room and shut everything else out and off when I paint.

It was kind of a welcome change,
but not something I’m likely to do on a more complex
(or frustrating)

This one treated me pretty well,
for which I am grateful.



©Rebecca S Rea, 2011

Watercolor on cold-press paper

Not Something Beautiful:


But kinda FAHBULOUS anyhow.

This all came about when I was looking at the talented
Heather España McGeehon’s website,
saw a pretty little wreath that she made for Valentine’s Day,
but since I am half-magpie, and unable to resist the shiny,
I suggested buying a bunch of Valentine’s Day crap
and gluing it all over a wreath to LauraJane.

I love a friend who will hot-glue glitterfluffyfeathery things with me.



I totally managed to have a sense of proportion.



Look at how small the wreath is!

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