Dear brain, sometimes I hate you.
Dear brain, sometimes I hate you.
Kirsty Mitchell’s late mother Maureen was an English teacher who spent her life inspiring generations of children with imaginative stories and plays. Following Maureen’s death from a brain tumour in 2008, Kirsty channelled her grief into her passion for photography.
She retreated behind the lens of her camera and created Wonderland, an ethereal fantasy world. The photographic series began as a small summer project but grew into an inspirational creative journey.
‘Real life became a difficult place to deal with, and I found myself retreating further into an alternative existence through the portal of my camera,’ said the artist. (read the rest here).
helinhelsinki said: nice to know that your mother liked the haunted Mansion.Did you start to like these things because of her influence?
It was the other way around, actually. Tho’ she always claimed to be “normal”, over the years my mom became more and more interested in the spookily whimsical. In addition to wanting to move into the Haunted Mansion, she became a huge fan of Tim Burton’s work. But she always had spooky tendencies: I have vague early childhood memories of watching episodes of Dark Shadows with her. (She always claimed that’s what started me on the gothy path.) I wish she could have seen the Tim Burton movie of Dark Shadows, because I think she would have loved it.
There’s something more important.
Japanese River Otters have been declared extinct.
This is now a Japanese River Otter appreciation and memorial post.
RIP little otters, there was nothing you could do.
This is horrible.
midnight-blush said: Why?
Why do I want to remove “Cancer” from my shuffle (well, from all my audio devices)? Because it’s an emotional gut-punch for me. My mom was diagnosed with leukemia when I was 9 years old. She was one of the incredibly lucky ones - the chemotherapy gave her over 30 years in remission. But slow complications from that chemotherapy are what eventually took her from us in 2011.
It’s a strong, important song. And I don’t think I’m ever going to willingly listen to it again.
Note to Self: synch Babybat the shuffle and REMOVE MCR’s “Cancer”. TONIGHT. I thought I had swept it from all devices, so that was an unwanted surprise.
Oh good heavens, loads of times. The most recent time was when I saw MCR on the World Contamination Tour. The concert was a few months after my mom passed away; I wore waterproof eyeliner and mascara because I knew that “Cancer” was a standard part of MCR’s setlist, and I figured I’d tear up. I didn’t. I sobbed, and almost completely broke down. Them following it up with “Helena” just intensified the emotional gut punch. The screaming glee that that followed when they started “Vampires Will Never Hurt You” felt like emotional whiplash.
I still haven’t put “Cancer” back on any of my mp3 players. It’s a great song, but I suspect I’ll never be able to listen to it again.
On-stage, Ray Bradbury could wax eloquently and vociferously angry at one thing. At one human trait — cynicism. The lazy habit of relishing gloom. The sarcastic playground sneer that used to wound him, and all other bright kids, punishing them for believing, fervently, in a better tomorrow.
The cover for the movie tie-in edition of Something Wicked This Way Comes. I won a copy of it when I was 10, at the first convention I ever attended. At Dragon*Con 1997, I waited in line to have him autograph it. He commented on the well-loved condition of my book, signed it, and very kindly agreed to pose for a photo with Clovis Devilbunny. (Which will be scanned and posted later.)
I don’t think I can really express how much of an impact Ray Bradbury had on me. If you somehow have never read it, do yourself a favor and go find a copy of the short story “The Homecoming”. Right now.
Oh, Big Fish. Such a lovely, heart-wrenching movie. Even this gif is enough to make me teary-eyed. But it still is one of my favorite movies.
The remembrance altar I have set for the next few days. Flowers I saved from the ones people sent last year, a antique compact from my grandma, the key to the Haunted Mansion (my Mom’s favorite place on earth), bobbins from Mom’s sewing machine, photos of Mom and Grandma, and one of all three of us from my wedding.