Alien Tea Shoppe

There are two things lately that have made me do a lot of thinking.  A lot of thinking on societal issues as well as my own life.  Being in between; being nowhere.  Living two lives and yet neither completely. The first was an article published in Ebony magazine in March of 2012 by Joyce Clark Hicks entitled, Dear White Folks: Black People are Sensitive to Race , which is Hicks' written response to someone's questioning on why she is so sensitive to racial matters, which touches on her experiences as a black woman in a white world.   The other being the Tumblr, We Are Not Trayvon Martin , which are reader submitted reasons why they are not Trayvon Martin in order to distinguish the difference between race in this country and how we, as a society, have been trained to view Black vs White, in an effort to enlighten and put an end to the fear mongering. My parents starting their family early with a bunny who would become a giant. These are my pa...

Disney Prince Loki, everyone. There's this thing going around about Loki being a Disney Prince.  It amuses me.  Is it important?  Probably not.  But it does lead very well into this blog post, I think.  I would jump in the Bifrost with Loki; Disney Prince or no.  But he's not the only one.  If you've not read A] any Norse mythology B] any Thor comics C] seen the film Thor, then I shall enlighten you.  The Bifrost is the rainbow bridge connecting this world with Asgard (where Thor, Odin, Loki and the rest of the Norse gods dwell.)  The Bifrost is not really the important part.  It simply means to run away/go away with in this context. I do not mind speaking up on the fact that I have never had a boyfriend.  It doesn't define who I am, as I don't particularly like being confined into boxes, but it does make up a part of who I am.  I'm not going to deny it.  There has never been a relationship, a date or a boy/man ...

I'm waking up to ash and dust I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust I'm breathing in the chemicals I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus This is it, the apocalypse Whoa I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones Enough to make my systems blow Welcome to the new age, to the new age Welcome to the new age, to the new age Whoa, whoa, I'm radioactive, radioactive Whoa, whoa, I'm radioactive, radioactive I raise my flags, don my clothes It's a revolution, I suppose We'll paint it red to fit right in Whoa I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus This is it, the apocalypse Whoa I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones Enough to make my systems blow Welcome to the new age, to the new age Welcome to the new age, to the new age Whoa, whoa, I'm radioactive, radioactive Whoa, whoa, I'm radioactive, radioactive All systems go, the sun hasn't died Deep in my bones, straight from ...

My photography book came in on Saturday - huzzah!  And Shutterfly was having a special, so I have officially just now ordered my Illustrations book.  So excited! Click here to view this photo book larger You'll love award-winning Shutterfly photo books . Start your own today.

Finally finished my photography book through Shutterfly.  Now, when they have another special, I'll get the one pertaining to my illustrations.  Huzzah!  Can't wait for this to arrive. Click here to view this photo book larger Shutterfly allows you to customize your photo book just the way you want.

It was an awkward meeting.  Between the boy who dreams big and the girl with dreams of foreign places.  He tried to tie our souls together, without so much as a by your leave.  I said yes to the Universe, but my yes did not entail automatic soul fusion; a simple rendezvous was all I contracted with to the Universe. Eyes of blue swimming down into the murky depths of me.  What are you even doing in there?  So far down; poking around; leaving messages; flitting away.  What are you doing?  Do you even know?  Can those eyes of blue even see?  Does your brain register what they see?  Or does only part of you know? You ask permission for acceptance and to ascend; yet you intrusively dive right in to my oceanic pools of cool blue eyes, possibly missing the ring of light green that dances on the centers' surface; but you didn't splash around there for long before diving down, down, down in to the dark recesses of me; the dark cavern where my...

These breasts belong to a professional bra wearer.   So... breasts.  I've got 'em.  They're these things that get in the way a lot.  I have to holster them into a contraption called a brassier.  They're heavy.  They form considerable cleavage.  I couldn't even begin to tell you how many times there have been crumbs hiding out down there.  They can also be quite dangerous.  Once, when moving a cabinet, one of them busted out a pane of glass!  Breasts seem to be troublesome things, indeed!  Bustygirlcomics.com Oh my good god on a cracker, that right up there runs through my brain on a regular basis.  "They're not that big today...  OMG!  I'm falling out of my top!  Damnit!"  Just like the drawing, it's all about perspective.  When I look down I see ginormous breasts about to fall out of my shirt and I can't believe I've been so indecent.  My sister, coming from a different angle, l...