Sleepy Sundays: Way Up There

Way Up There ©️ 2019 Snapping Turtle Arts | cardcastlesinthesky.com

You ever change something so many times it makes you dizzy? Isn’t it even better when you end up right where you began?

This has been the last few months for me. A whole bunch of starting off strong just to get caught under the tires.

I feel a change coming, though. & I’ve certainly had enough. Get back to me when I’m out of this.


Where have you been? What have you been up to? Where has everyone gone? Am I really that vile?

Talk to me. After all, this is our Sunday ritual.

Daydreams Diary: Knots

I am seriously debating closing down CardCastles and the larger umbrella responsible for it (Snapping Turtle) for good.

This is not for lack of trying, let me stress.

March has forever been unkind to me throughout my entire life. You may have even read that here before. I don’t have to tell you the following for privacy reasons, but I’m going to. Holding it in is making me even sicker than I already am.

My sister had her daughter (my niece) taken away from her by her ex. There’s a whole lot more to that, but that is just tier one of a set of things that are rapidly pushing me over the edge.

The tax return we were so heavily depending on (to move out of this hellhole) has been seized for student loan debt. All of it.

To top it all off, I just recently discovered my uncle who was once my legal guardian upon my grandmother’s passing, went behind my back while I was hospitalized back in 2006 and somehow illegally obtained “power of attorney” over me. What that basically translates to is I have no rights. He can sign things for me, obtain any money that comes to me. Fraudulently fill out forms in my name, etc etc. & He’ll be protected from any prosecution because, well, Power of Attorney.

Fighting any of this issues in court are near impossible for me since I am floating just above the national poverty line.

 

I am defeated. Depression has taken a strangle hold over me. & I am not sure if I can keep fighting anymore. The sickness I’ve been suffering from is spreading.

To keep this place standing is starting to feel like a crushing burden. I’m still undecided, but I figured I’d try to keep those of you that care in the loop. There are knots in my stomach and I can’t keep food down.

I hope this all isn’t a complete waste. I’ve worked so hard to get here.

I really love a lot of you and I’m sorry to unload all of this depressing muck on you. Pray/chant/will things for us. We will certainly need it in the months ahead.

 

Sleepy Sundays: Oh So Quiet

[Click images for higher res. versions]

I’m sharing two artworks again today to make up for some lost time. The future is a bit uncertain. I’m in a tremendous amount of pain as I type this, so I’ll keep this short.

I hope those of you that celebrate holidays around this time of year are all having a peaceful time among friends and/or family.

For those of you that aren’t, I simply wish you love, and some peace of mind.

Have a restful Sunday

The Lift

I can be impulsive.

Those of you that know me are no strangers to that.

A few days back I posted a “Shutdown Notice” of sorts closing down the site, my services, and all of the CardCastles social media accounts.

Wintery

I’ve never seen the Stats for this place spike so high. Oh, it certainly wasn’t because folks were concerned, I assure you. Not over 500+ in less than an hour. No, my close friends and core group know where to reach me & certainly wouldn’t spam the buttons here to do so.

That spike was likely due to people that cannot wait to see me fall on my face.

 

Although my health is indeed dwindling, I still have hope.

“The audacity of hope!” – President Barack Obama

Hope is something I tend to cling to with all of my being.
After all, I’ve always been like a cat with nine lives, and well, hell, I’m just not that easy to kill.

When I left, there was a guilt I felt because I’m trying to build this business even larger than it already is. My goal is to stack it into something that can eventually help my family and friends. Due to groundwork I laid out earlier this year, I’m already halfway there.

So, I can’t really just stop now. Even though I certainly felt the need to for a while.

Over the last few days, I got to see how much I really am appreciated, however silently, it’s still appreciation, and it matters. You filled my inboxes, my DMs, tweeted out little playlists for me. (One of my potential future moderators who you’ll soon hopefully be meeting shared all of this with me while I was away. We both had a good laugh about how I couldn’t leave this place if I tried.)

One last thing pushed me back here beside all that.

Wild Card

I thought of someone I care about who is going through my exact same struggle right now. She hasn’t stopped her magic for one minute. Even with all she has on her plate, and doing every bit of it while in pain, she hasn’t thrown in the towel. She’s still going.

That inspires me. That’s a strength I’ve only seen in one other place—through the women in my own family, particularly, my late mother.

So while I had my time to sit and sob

and even though the holidays are draining every last bit of sanity I have left

I

can’t

stop.

After all, I am a creator.

And

We’re all mad here.

Daydreams Diary: Flames (Part II)

Daydreams in Otherworlds © 2017 Snapping Turtle Arts | cardcastlesinthesky.com

When I first started out, “Daydreams” was very much a character.

Now she’s just a cloak that I wear to protect whatever little shred of privacy I have left.

Flurry

I’ve all but exposed my whole ass for the world to see. Most are no longer comfortable with me since I’m not fluffing their egos while being kind and PC. But I’m getting off-track a bit. Let’s rewind to the first half of this before I go any further.

It chirped away. Not a pleasant bell like that of a teeny sparrow, but a manic, repetitive, screeching sound akin to metal on metal. I could almost sense what it was. In fact, in the corners of my subconscious, I think I very much did.

It was a person in my professional network, pointing me towards the mouthes of the displeased.

Displeasure—oh, how I’ve danced with you on and off these past few years.

Passive-aggressive in its nature, though point taken, it stood out like a festering sore on a beautiful face. It’s always a meme, right? No one can pull me aside and quietly voice their grievances. No, it has to be shouted to their entire following, but covertly enough that I can’t expose them. So much so that if I did, I’d look like the crazy one.

This is not the first time.

Or the second.

And I’m sure it won’t be the last.

Oh no, definitely not the last. But I’m not allowed to feel either.

“Oh stop whining.”

“What a butthurt bitch.”

“Quit playing the victim.”

I can hear it now. Loud as ever.

I’ve been more vocal on human rights issues and more. These are some things sadly deemed “political.”

“It ain’t cute, sweetheart.” They said I was shaming people. Well darlin’ sadly, in these times we’re living in, some things need to be shamed.

In the words of someone I’ve always deeply admired that’s been harmed by the very industry I work alongside:

Name it. Shame it. Call it out.Rose McGowan

So what’s wrong with me calling these issues out? Why does that all of a sudden make me not your cup of tea? What does my little insignificant voice have to do with your happiness? Why do you feel the need to tear me down in the process?

I thought I was well past letting bullshit like that penetrate me. But it has. Yet again. Especially when these [very public] bashings start to effect my income. (If I showed you the numbers, and how far they’ve traveled downward since about May 2017, you’d cry.)

I’m slowly moving past it. After all, the projects on my desk don’t give a shit who is ripping me apart and why. I had a little outburst over it, then soon after regretted it. It made me look like the asshole. It made me look immature. Though I come from a place where if you don’t respond, you’re a coward. Though in today’s world, if you do respond, you’re giving them attention and that also winds up making you look like an idiot.

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

Amidst all this madness I had a great conversation with one of my best friends whom I consider like adopted family. He spoke of similar situations with slimy people’s passive-aggressive nature and likened getting rid of such negativity to purging impurities with flames. What a beautiful comparison it was. Like the practice of burning sage—a cleansing ritual.

So I guess what I’m stabbing at in all this is, sometimes we need to purge the ugliness in our life with flames. And no, I’m not telling you to go set shit on fire. (Ya crazy asses.) I’m simply hinting at the notion that in order to truly move up and move on in our lives, sometimes we really need to cut things loose—set them ablaze. One thing I’m learning is it doesn’t matter how many times we feel we have to do this. If we feel the need, it’s probably for a reason. There’s probably another phase ready for us on the other side waiting.

So go burn some sage.

– Daydreams

Daydreams Diary: Flames

So, I’ve been sick for over a week.

Fever chills. Coughing. Bones felt like thin glass.

Furious
© 2017
Snapping Turtle Arts

I’ve been meaning to catch you all up on things for a while w/ a video diary or something, and yet things keep happening. Every time I sit down to work, or give you a little update here, another something pops up.

Flash forward to today. I finally start to gain some of my strength back. I’m still on the mend, but I finally have the first burst of energy I’ve had in over a week.

I come inside after getting my son, do my household duties, promptly sit down, then open up my folders for work. I’ve got an important project for Matticus & Revis that’s well over the deadline time frame. (Matt & Revis continue to be patient with me & my crazy life and I love them for it.) There’s another something I’m planning with my significant other. Last but most certainly not least, there’s some concept sketches I have to get out to three of my musician friends.

 

The phone starts chirping away.

I ignore it as best as I can, but in the back of my mind it must be urgent.



 

 



[to be continued]

 

Daydreams Diary: Cold Air

—• Cold Air •—

[ October 12th, 2017 9:47PM ]

I wanted to explain things to you.

It’s been so long.

There’s so much to explain.

I wanted to write about all the crap going on today.

I was going to call it “The Silencing of Rose McGowan” and it would’ve been great.

But I don’t have a lot of that edgy shit in me right now. & Well, frankly, you don’t care anyway.

I’ve been told to

keep the politics out of it.”

Hell, that was even my rule here once. Maybe that’s where I fucked up.

I need to drop the “Daydreams” because I’ve been “out of character” for over two years now.

But I still don’t feel 100% comfortable putting my name out there.

Maybe I should.

My head is a mess.

My health is dwindling.

I want to turn it all around but I am losing the fight.

I am losing my will to hold on.

It’s not that I’m ungrateful.

It’s that I was born with a cursed body.

And a cursed mind.

I may be of the witchy sort,

but I’m not one to undo hexes.

After all, the one that set that in motion had a reason and felt justified at the time.

No, I’d rather see how this plays out.

So let me be.

I’ll do just fine.

Just let me curl up

with this rott

in my mind.


[ September 17th, 2017 ]

—• Flashes •—

 

You wrote me today.

It was the first time in a while and it made me smile.

Even if just for a speck of reality.

 

I stumbled upon them again today.

This is the second time they were connected to someone in my network.

A new potential client or friend that I again had to let go in fear of them following the trail.

Why do I still care?

Do they even still think about me?

Am I still considered “a threat”?

I highly doubt it when he’s got 82,000 following and I’m well, me.

 

My patience was tested again today.

This was the third time in a few short weeks.

You accused my friend of baiting when he simply fought to be heard.

Why do you seek to silence us?

Will muting the messenger really snuff out the message?

Perhaps it be your guilty conscience that’s speaking louder than the both of us.

The weight of your judgement through trying times speaks volumes of your character.


[ August 30th, 2017 ]

—• Tormentors •—

Time is always uncertain.

Your words don’t stick.

They fade.

You think you’re important.

You’re not.

“Shade, shade, shade.”

You’re damn right it’s shade.

My tongue is a blade.

You are empty

And I am afraid.

So let’s make a trade.

Shall we, Adelaide?

Let’s call a spade a spade and give up this masquerade

when you know it’s just me here

and the bill must be paid.

Despite your shiny appearance,

your pockets are frayed.

 

—Daydreams

31 Nightmares 2017: The 30th

Alright darlings,

We have another guest today ready to share something right up your alley. Today we welcome author Bill Friday from BillFriday.com. Some of you may remember Bill from my time over at Stories. Others already know him. Some of you are new to Bill completely and those of you that might be are in for a treat.

As we enter this eve of Hallow’s Eve, that some may call “Mischief Night” or the foreboding, even older nickname, “Devil’s Night,” we will take one last nightmarish journey with our guest before our closing day, tomorrow.

This theme is dark and poetic. We hope you enjoy.

 

  • Snapping Turtle Arts

​​​​​A Ghost Story

By: Bill Friday

Not Forgotten

 

I am a ghost.

I, in the beginning of my time here on this plane of existence, I could not understand what it was to be invisible to the world and those living in it, as I still thought myself a part of the world that I still saw before me. I moved, I thought, I felt everything as I did before my transformation. Little seemed to change from one moment to the next. I was me, and the world was the world, and neither of us looked much different as far as I could tell. But it was different. I was different. Because now, the world looked right through me.

Because I am a ghost.

I am a ghost.

I know I am a ghost because, after what I’m guessing – since there is no clock or calendar in my world – many years of living. I say “living” with some caution because, of course, ghosts aren’t alive. At least not in the way all those around me who don’t see me are alive. But they are alive, every one of them. I can tell by the hurry and worry they carry with themselves everywhere they go. Constantly in motion, even when that motion seems to take them nowhere in particular. Just circles circling other circling circles, always in a rush to go everywhere, but never seeming to go anywhere. Except that none of these concentric living circles ever seem to circle me.

Because I am a ghost.

I am a ghost.

I know I am a ghost because of something I saw in a movie once when I was still alive. Those who still move in circles can hear me. They hear the same sounds I hear when I make when I choose to make them. They hear the groan, the belch, the occasional fart – although I don’t know where the belch and the fart come from, because as I learned from the same movie, ghosts don’t belch or fart – and also from the moving of objects that are, in my ghostly existence, important to me.

I guess, because that’s what the movie taught me, that objects which were important to me in my previous life are still important to me in this life as well. It makes me question my previous life’s life-choices as to why I didn’t place more importance on a nice car, or maybe a big house, or even on better clothes, because the only things that must have been important to me in that other life seem to be a raggedy overcoat, the morning newspaper, and a shopping cart that wobbles at the wheels and scrapes at the pavement as I walk. Seriously, if I could give just one word of advice to those still living – but I can’t, because to my knowledge, none of them has ever heard a word I have said – it would be to acquire nice things for yourself in life, because one day you might be a ghost and need them.

Yeah, the things you learn the hard way.

Because you are a ghost.

I am a ghost.

I know I am a ghost because, after a lifetime of seeing no need at all for god or the church, I live behind a church, on the edge of a graveyard – how ironic on so many levels, being a ghost because… graveyard, and an atheist ghost because… church – but they let me stay as the church folk look right through me like the rest of the living do. Oh, and they allow me to eat left-overs from the shiny dumpster next to the boarded-up back door. I even sleep behind it when the wind blows extra cold some nights, and my overflowing morning newspapers can’t seem to keep the wind out of my ghost-self bones.

Like on this night.

Because that’s what ghosts do.

And I am a ghost.

 


You can reach Bill Friday in these places as well:

Twitter: @ThatManFriday

Instagram: @BillFriday

Facebook: facebook.com/thatmanfriday

Website: BillFriday.com


This has been

Day 30

of

 

She’s Got a Way

She's Got a Way
She’s Got a Way

If you ever read I’ll Light a Candle for You, then you’d know today is both my mother’s birthday and the anniversary of her death. It’s been eleven years, and yet the wound can still feel raw on days like this for my remaining family members.

We miss her. Her absence left me with a hole in my life, one I’ve tried to mend with Paper, Paint, and Stitches.

So I made this today, for her. Since childhood, art has always been a cathartic release for me. So we’ll play her songs. We’ll post her pictures. Hopefully, somehow, we’ll all get through the day.

It’s been eleven years.

—And yet I still miss her like it was yesterday.

Happy Birthday, Mom.

We will always love you.

(Whitney was her favorite. 🙂 )