Schiller Apartment Shenanigans: Gary

It was a small, one-level apartment building. I had just moved in, not even a week earlier. I loved the place, but really didn't know much about it, its occupants, or even the neighborhood, as I had never spent any time in that area in the past. It was the dead of winter, days before Christmas. I had seen none of my new neighbors.

I heard a knock on the door. A man was there and describing him will be one of the most amusing experiences of my life.

I think the best way to start would be to say that he seemed like the sort of man who was still stuck in some kind of surfer era from his past. But one would wonder whether he ever actually surfed in his youth, or was it some sort of homage to those past days? Maybe he just happened to look the part. But, I think that perhaps it was as simple as he was a man from California, now living in the Pacific Northwest. He was getting older, maybe about 45 years. He had sandy blonde hair, rather receding in the front and about shoulder length in the back, but he wore it well considering his age. He had a white convertible Mustang from around the early 1990's or so, and he washed it every day. Later, I was able to use his car washing equipment (reluctantly, on his part) to occasionally wash my much prettier green 1976 Mercedes.

All of this is simply my description. Whether or not you can picture the image in your mind properly is not as important as the fact that he was standing on the other side of my door when I opened it.

"Do you have a cup of sugar?" he asked.

I was a little confused, because I was pretty sure it was obvious to my neighbors that I had just moved in. At the time, I was very naive and definitely not street smart. I compensated by being excessively cautious and 'not street stupid.' I definitely told people like it was, when I didn't see any danger in it, and even sometimes when I did.

This was my answer. "No. Why would I have any sugar? I just moved in."

He apologized and admitted that he didn't actually need any, but was looking for an excuse to say hi and welcome me. His name was Gary.

Now I was even more confused. I was raised quite respectably. I was taught that if you wanted to welcome someone to the neighborhood, you came to their door bearing gifts, not the other way around. I was reminded of a silly book I had read as a child, about the three little pigs. The story started with the self-proclaimed 'innocent' wolf asking for a cup of sugar.

He then invited me to a little party he was having at his house with a few of the neighbors. I declined, at first. I was not ready to throw myself into an unknown atmosphere full of strangers. Plus, I didn't know anything about him except for how he looked. What was I to expect? After a bit of convincing, I finally agreed to stop by for a moment. 

I showed up a little late. I wanted to be sure that people were at his place and things were happening over there, across the parking lot, before I arrived. I suppose that Gary should have mentioned that the party was specifically created for me. Apparently, the apartment neighbors weren't accustomed to coming to his place for parties. They were all just anxious to meet their new neighbor: a young 20 year old girl, out in the world for the first time, treading cautiously with every step she took. Me.

My Links:

Lotus Asylum

Old Soul Soap

Lotus Asylum: The Attic

The Dress

Edited 10-21-13

I walked into my mother's attic. I had known it was there all along, but I never bothered to enter it until now. Was I afraid of what it might contain? I didn't know.

It was a dark mansard space, and nothing was there save a large wooden chest, already opened.

Out of what seemed like thin air came people into the room. None of these were ordinary people. There was something odd about each one. Each was dressed in an elaborate costume, colorful and unique. A short little lady was dressed like a peacock, all blues and greens. Even a peacock plume topped her strange pillbox-like hat. There was a very wide man, who looked as though he should be the ringmaster in a traveling circus. Maybe he was, I didn't know. There were many characters, all of them seeming to be playing a part of some sort. Were they on their way to a stage somewhere to act in a show?

It didn't matter, they all beckoned me to come towards them and look into the chest.

I stepped towards the chest, slowly and cautiously, not sure what I would find. 

Finally, I saw them: old rags and ribbons. Dresses, hats, shoes, and jewels were stuffed in the box. It was like a dream. The Ringmaster said to me, "Who do you wish to be?"

I knew what he meant. It was my moment, it was time. I knew, somehow, that I must choose what part I would play in the great world. The world of the Asylum. The Lotus Asylum.

My links: Lotus Asylum

Old Soul Soap

Other Links: Myriads of Thought

Maude, and Judging People

This little dolly, Maude, came to me last night. She told me all about her continuing struggles. She tells me that she has a hard time seeing herself in the mirror. She has no problem understanding other people. Why can't she understand herself? I suggested that quite possibly, she is blinded by her need to judge everyone else's behavior. Just a thought. . . here she is.

She brought something to my mind, though. I cringed at the sound of my voice using the word "judge" in such a way. You see, I have this odd way of thinking. I hold certain points of view (just like anyone), but am so irritated by people who use such points of views, as a sort of thoughtless pedestal to stand on. It's like a bandwagon way of thinking and. . . phrasing thoughts? Maybe it's that I have this feeling that many people are saying "the right thing," but are just spouting what they've heard. Maybe it's possible they wouldn't hold this point of view, had no one ever told them about it. . . and they sure have a way of saying it the same way everyone else says it. 

This is how I feel about the word "judge." See, it has every bit of a place in the court of law, where actual judges preside, and judging must take place. But, not every opinion or point of view is a judgment. I find that many people are often so quick to say, "don't judge." When really, perhaps that person held no judgements of the other. They simply had an opinion (which last I heard we are all more than welcome to have) about life. . . which happened to coincide with someone else's life, thoughts, words, choices, etc. 

I suppose I'm saying: why must a moral opinion be considered a judgement of others? And in fact, even if it is one. . . why is "judging" always held so negatively? The very same people who would say "don't judge" would also express their horror at a person only suspected of rape and murder. What is it with this trend of insisting that everyone's morals be alike?

Don't get me started on the phrase, "Safety First!!" You see, I believe in being safe, and even in keeping it pretty high on one's mind. But, the fact that so many people remind and caution you to be safe (as if we could forget about the dangers our lives might face) in this same little hashed out phrase, "Safety First," irritates me. And probably making your voice go up at the end, and wagging your little finger condescendingly. . . is that it? Do I find it condescending? Who knows. I just think, "Be careful," is more than fine. 

One thing we do know is I have some major problems when it comes to watching people behave in these ways, alongside so many others behaving the same way. This is the first time I've ever publicly voiced these thoughts, that I can recall. I'll stop here. 

Thank you for letting me rant on this topic under the guise of showing you my newest doll.  ; )

Lotus Asylum

Doll, I'm Charmed!

I've spent the last week or so, racking my brain! I've been trying to think of something I can make with polymer clay, on a hugely smaller scale. Something funky and fun, but still sticking to my theme of making dolls. 

Making a single doll is a big undertaking. I spend hours on the sculpt, hours on the tiny little stitches, and I'm always just a tad nervous for a few hours before I begin to paint. My point is, it takes great time and effort to make just one. 

So, last night I had this idea, and I thought I'd give it a try today. Little doll charms/pendants. Over time, I think I can come up with different repeatable styles. But for now, I've made a trio of gingerbread man/voodoo doll–esque type charms with tiny little purplish beads for the eyes. 

They are for sale at $12 for the whole set, plus shipping. You can purchase them here.


Lotus Asylum