Runner's Side Stitches are not like Hiccups

I know, I know: it's been FOREVER since I last blogged. I'm sorry! I have a perfectly good explanation for it though, you ready? I haven't had time. There.

Four studio classes and commuting into San Francisco everyday does not leave much time for anything. On the plus side, I have a whole host of artwork to show for it! Nearly none of it is fairy/fantasy related, but it's still pretty cool. But more on that in a different blog, perhaps. (sorry!)

Anyway, it's FINALLY Thanksgiving break which of course is my favorite time of year. I didn't actually know that I got a break from school until maybe a week ago. Of course I "forgot" to tell my work about the fact that I have a whole week off... And I'm sure I won't remember to tell them any time soon! (Though with the mountain of homework, it's needed!)

So I am enjoying my break immensely. I even started running again. Turns out when you take a few months off from running after previously running 4-5 days a week, it's not nearly as difficult to get back into it as I feared. That is of course, until you encounter the dreaded "Side Stitch" also known as a "cramp from exercising" on one of your first runs back out.

On my first run out this week, (out of three so far-- go me) right after I hit my second mile, I got a side stitch so bad, I was going to pass out. I tried everything I could think of to get rid of it. I tried slowing my pace, I tried walking, I tried "breathing into the stitch"-- which my friend Mary suggested and it's pure nonsense!-- I tried drinking water, I even resorted to resting for five minutes and starting up again slowly: NOTHING! It wouldn't go away and I was starting to make some pretty terrible faces at passing cars. To those passing cars, I do apologize! I had a side stitch!

After ten minutes of dealing with the cramp, I finally realized I had to walk home, which sucked because I run to get places and to be efficient. Walking is boring to me. So I began walking. And I drank more water. And I practiced deep breathing. Finally I got the bright idea to "scare the stitch away"-- it works with hiccups! When breathing and drinking water and waiting doesn't work, you have your friends scare the hiccups away! (this does not work for me with hiccups-- don't do this to me ever) Well, I've come to realize that when I run, I do not think very clearly (due to physical exhaustion or runner's high or something). So here I am moseying along, slowly, but surely with my side stitch then the next second- BAM! I'm sprinting like there's a wild hyena loose from the zoo after me! I even flailed my arms for effect.

And it totally worked!-- for about 2.38 seconds. Then it hit me like a gunshot wound and I bent forward, nearly collapsing, clutching my side, cursing loudly and laughing at the ridiculousness of the whole idea. I probably looked like *I* had escaped from a zoo. So much for scaring the stitch away through sprinting...

I will say that it probably looked downright hilarious from anyone possibly watching through their window... Or maybe whoever was watching was deeply disturbed by my zombie-like behavior, thought the end was near, packed up their apocalypse survival kits, and fled to the hills. If that is the case, I apologize for sending you to the hills... I do hope you're at least enjoying the views.

Anyways, I still didn't get rid of the stitch, but on today's run when I got a stitch, it wasn't as bad-- so maybe it's a thing your body gets used to over time?

Anyways, til next time!

Throwing Ceramics Sounds Like Fun- in Theory!

Failed Monster Pot-- Day 2 of ceramics

So, I'm in a ceramics class... Clearly, I am no ceramics prodigy. My two friends who I see every day, Noah and Andrew are also no ceramics prodigies. Therefore the entire class is filled with "Your Mom" jokes, "So is your face" jokes, "That's what she said" jokes and "Ghosting" jokes. It's basically three hours of insults around while creating "things" out of clay. 

A girl from my Textiles class who is a ceramics major mentioned that once you get into "throwing," the class is much more fun. My immediate thought involved me throwing all my ceramics pieces at a wall. That *did* sound rather fun! Unfortunately, "throwing" refers to spinning clay on a wheel and making vases and pots and useless stuff. 

So far I have made a pot shaped like a monster, a cat bowl, a square flower pot that says "Flower Pot" on the side, a sort of replica of Winnie The Pooh's "Hunny Pot" and a maraca.... I am dying inside.

Five Hour Intermission with Nathan Detroit: Complete with Cartwheels

The following is another unconventional writing style about the best/worst day ever. Also, some mild content is involved. I would rate this blog a PG-13. And if any of this seems like a big, long, ridiculous inside joke-- it is. Enjoy!

This morning has been one from hell. I must have walked under a ladder, or broken a mirror, or crossed a black cat (most likely). Bad luck is following me today.

Now it's a distressing phone call. After I hang up feeling extremely saddened, I hear my name called.

Smiling Nathan Detroit strides over to me in his teeshirt-- clearly a city kid. He's quite the opposite of me with my coat and scarf-- clearly a far East Bay resident.

At this point in my day after so many mishaps, I'm processing emotions inappropriately. I blurt out that I sat in a puddle, and almost died twice, and other things, and missed the train, and even more other things, and spilled my coffee-- showing him my skirt to prove it. I tell him about the awful call. I start giggling. Then laughing, then I can't stop. It's loud laughing. Nathan says I'm a horrible person. I agree. We go get coffee. It's better than potentially crying or processing emotions like a psychopath.

We have five hours to kill at SFSU. It's a nice day. It's also five hours.

He munches his scone and leads me through throngs of sorority girls and club presidents. We shout "No" at everyone. We don't want to join their stupid club.

It's a nice day. No one goes on the grass because it's wet. We rebel.

Soon, everyone is following our lead. We caused this. We're heroes! We high-five. We make fun of people. We commiserate. We're both miserable.

We point at others. Make up names and stories, try to see if the brunette in the dress is a man. He is. His shoulders are too rounded for a female we decide.

Nathan wishes he were taller. I ask him about being a smooth criminal. We possibly burst into song a few too many times.

A scene from a movie appears before us. The leading man holds the leading lady's hand as they bashfully look away from each other. She jumps into his arms. He catches her. He's even holding her books. We agree that they're @$$#*!&$ and shout as much as they pass. No one can hear us anyway. There's too much loud music and sororities.

Millie joins us in the sun. More college humor is brought up. Especially about floral patterns.

The photography major takes my picture in the sun. There is talk of tents and drool. We all have to pee.

After we take full effect of the buddy system, we sit up the hill and watch pretty-Thor slack-rope. We have a soundtrack and a good band. Later Dredlock-Thor slack-ropes. So does Millie. She's as good as both Thors. No one is great. Millie has to go "table" for her club.

I suggested that Nathan go slack-rope while we continue to kill 5 hours. He won't. But he cartwheels.

I haven't cartwheeled since I was 8. I'm going to get grass stains. I don't care.

In 3 minutes Nathan has taught me to cartwheel. I've lost my coat, watch, scarf and cardigan and am 8-years-old again, cartwheeling all over the wet grass. It's exhilarating. We still have 2 hours. We're still miserable.

We verbalize our fears. We get angry at causes. We don't know what to say. We're talkative, and we're speechless, and we're upset. So I teach him how to make grass whistle.

The trick behind Quail-Calling is to make others either look confusedly in your general direction or to shout at you. The grass is not long enough. We have a bit of success. We get some looks and someone screams "Shut UP" as we laugh maniacally and give ourselves away. The grass is too short though. We'll wait for Thursday when the grass will be longer. Thursday will be epic we decide. We're going to do this again.

We're miserable. We're happy. We look into the cloudless sky. We are grateful for the other's company. We break into song and high-five a bit more.

As Nathan Detroit and I part ways, I realize that I am also sun-burnt-- through my shirt! The metaphorical bad-luck black cat is apparently going to follow me the rest of the day... But at least the five hour intermission was quite epic.

On the grass, in the sun, enjoying a five-hour intermission.
Picture courtesy of the photography major.

Kittens are Not Dependable Alarm Clocks

Hoo-ray for comic panels!

Jasper the Cat and I had this agreement going for a while during the school year when I had to wake up at 4:30 every morning. He would consistently wake me up around 5am if I wasn't already up and either meow incessantly, slam doors (don't ask me how a cat slams a door) or crawl on me until I got up. 

This used to be pretty useful for days when I was slow to get out of bed. I like being a morning person, but try as I might, I cannot get myself out of bed without help from usually another person (or cat) and at LEAST 2 different alarms that I ignore and hit snooze repeatedly all the while I dream that my alarms are really polka-dots (totally dreamed that).

The inner workings of Claire's mind can be frightening.

Anyways, two months into summer vacation, Jasper is still Mr. Dependable Wake Mommy Up At 5am... He also has become a night owl (due to my staying up late if I don't have to get up early) and now he only sleeps between the hours of 3:00am-3:15am. This would not do.

I decided that I would need to (just like with humans) fix his sleep cycle. For the past 48 hours, I have not let him sleep at all during the day. It helped that I had two days off to do this. If I saw him taking a catnap, I threw a cat toy at him and made him play. I also annoyed him, poked him, made him look out windows, sang loudly at him, chased him around the house, played with him, gave him catnip, let him explore dresser drawers and closets, and danced with him (also while singing loudly). By yesterday evening, he was out like a light and hiding behind a bunch of dark colored pillows as a way of blending in. Jasper usually likes to sleep only on all white/beige materials, so this was a good sign.

I'm explorin'! No girls allowed!

Last night I planned on going for a run this morning at 6am. I figured my 12 alarm clocks and Jasper would surely wake me up. As it was, 10:00am rolled around and Jasper was sleeping on my face. Yes, I'm dead serious, on 'mah FACE! Jasper usually sleeps on my bed, but he always sleeps down at my feet (to attack them). He was also taking up a good portion of my two pillows. When I nudged him groggily, he was just simply purring at me!?!? Purring as if nothing delighted him more in the whole world than to be laying on *my* face. I wondered momentarily if some other cat came in the middle of the night and took Jasper's place, since this was clearly not my cat. My cat does not snuggle on faces. I drew a one-panel comic to illustrate.

So while the plan to get the baby-- I mean cat-- to sleep through the night worked, I can no longer use him as an alarm clock. Though I did get a wonderful night's sleep and shall continue to make sure his sleep cycle conforms to mine! Bwahahahha!

Btw, slightly on topic, though not the point, I *did* go on a run this morning, however it was four hours later than intended. *shrug*

Thanks for dealing with my oddities! I know I have been drawing a lot of comics lately and not releasing actual art... That's only because I take a picture of the comics with my cellphone, and with large paintings and drawings, I must scan those in and take hours of getting things adjusted right. Your patience will be rewarded with new art soon, I promise!

Send me a Tweet if you're digging the comics or if you have some interesting Cat-Sleep issues that you've gone through!

My Batman Movie Review (not that you care) Complete with some Brand New Slightly Insane Comics!

The following movie review has been written by me, Claire! So don't take it too seriously. And to be clear, MOST OF THIS IS PURE SARCASM. All drawings are by me (though maybe I shouldn't admit to that...)

BATMANNNNNN!!!! (complete with Marvel poster in background... FAIL!)

Just got to see the new Batman, and it was pretty epic. Christopher Nolan is amazing at creating such a realistic world with believable villains and stories. That being said, I have quite a few discrepancies regarding this new film's "Seriously" Factor.

Before we get to that, I'd like to mention the cast's performances. First off, Christian Bale who plays Bruce Wayne/Batman is finally growing on me as a human being. To be honest, for me Bale has always been like Nick Cage: there... for some reason. He's one of those guys who I don't really root for in a movie. That being said, I basically zone out every time Bale is onscreen and have very little idea of what is actually going on in any of these movies.

Christian Bale's Batman voice (AKA hushed mumbling) is still going on. I know he is trying to hide his identity, but he sounds like he has laryngitis, and I don't think the rest of the cast can hear him. I wanted to offer him some herbal tea the whole movie.

Morgan Freeman, Michael Caine and Gary Oldman are their usual cool selves. Not much to say about them, since they rock and have remained consistently awesome throughout the trilogy.

The new Villain, Bane, played by Tom Hardy was possibly the most evil guy yet. These Batman movies are very political and dark, and Bane kind of took it to a whole new level of terrorism. Bane made Liam Neeson's and Heath Ledger's characters look like kittens in comparison. That being said, I severely missed Neeson and Ledger. This is in part because I am in LOVE with both actors (romantically) and enjoy watching them in anything. Also because during all of Joker's scenes, I was left excited, stunned and smiling. There were a lot of "Oooh Guuurl, No he Din't!" moments with Joker. Whereas with Bane, I was usually scared of him and found his scenes almost hard to watch. I did highly appreciate Bane's sheer awesomeness as he beat up Batman. That Christian Bale needed a good a**-kicking I'm sure, for some reason or another. I read a review that compared Bane to the Hulk, and he really did a good job during those fight scenes. However then Tom Hardy opened his mouth... Or didn't... I'm not sure, because the character wears a mask.

Very rarely could I understand what Bane/Tom Hardy was saying behind his Darth Vader Mask. In the second part of the movie I literally stopped trying to understand what his lines were. I will admit, I have not read the comics, and know nothing of Bane's character outside of Nolan's world... But the mask, in my opinion, really inhibited the performance and left a lot to be desired. I know everyone is going to hate me for saying that, so I'm sorry! *shrug* The voice itself was a good voice for the character, but the character clearly needed subtitles. Again, sorry! *double shrug*

Joseph Gordon-Levitt plays a cop with a forgettable name who is helping Batman and Commissioner Gordon. Gordon-Levitt has been a favorite of mine all the way from his days on 3rd Rock From the Sun. I barely recognized him at first because his character is no longer that super happy, musically talented adorable heart throb. He does a great job and is VERY crucial to the plot, or to-be plots... I'll try not to give anything away, but you totally see it coming! His character development was strong.

Finally, Anne Hathaway. I don't know why people keep calling her a Romantic-Comedy Actress. I guess no one saw Rachel Getting Married, Love and Other Drugs, and Brokeback Mountain (to name a few of her more serious roles). And if anyone is judging her by her performance in the God-Awful-Needs-to-be-taken-out-back-and-shot-Tim-Burton's-Alice-in-Wonderland, then you guys need to look at that Alice movie as a whole and realize it's garbage. Funny enough, Tim Burton also directed one of those early Batman movies and did a horrible job of that. Stop judging Anne Hathaway for Burton's incessant awfulness! Hathaway is amazing!

Anyways, while in an interview Hathaway stated "there's no mustache twirling in Nolan's Gotham City." However, she is actually the most mustache-twirliest character of the whole trilogy. She has quite a few one-liners and shots of her posed in specific angles that show off her lady-goods. I think that that has more to do with the script and shout-outs to patient fan-boys than with Hathaway's overall performance. She's quite biting and very good at filling the role of the infamous cat woman. But when she said the line "Cat got your tongue" I had to roll my eyes. Again, not her fault.... Stupid lines shouldn't have been in the script! I blame the writers for the cheesy dialogue. 

And now it's time for
Top Five Inconsistencies/ Plot-Holes/ Questions/ Wish-They-Would-Have Moments! (slight spoilers, though not really, coz you see it coming)

5) There were a few too many times with Bane and Batman that would have been the perfect moment for "Bruce, (insert heavy Darth Vader breathing here) I am your Father!!" (that mask/voice really bugged me, SORRY!)

"Give your old man a hug!!!!!" 

4) How does Bane eat? Seriously? How? Maybe he doesn't, and that's why he's so pissed off and wants to destroy the world all the time.

"I'm so hungry!!!!"

3) They never acknowledge that Batman wears eyeliner/ eyeshadow.

"I shop at Sephora!"

In several different scenes Batman has to put on or take off his mask (or gets it kicked off his face) and every time there is no evidence of his eyeshadow ever being there. We all can see the holes in the mask would clearly show skin, like so:

Exhibit A

and so we all know Batman has to put on Raccoon Eye Styled Eyeshadow, eye liner, or even black paint in order to achieve that-- so why don't they just acknowledge that? But no, his mask is off, and you have to assume he has makeup remover wipes in his utility bat belt.

Shhhh! I don't wear eyeliner!

2) The scene where Bruce/Batman climbs up out of the well/prison wall, as he is standing there, I sincerely wished a gust of wind would just blow him right back into the well. Serve him right.  I could not find any pictures on the internet of this scene, so here is a drawing by me.

I thought the whole time he was down in the well was relatively pointless anyways. You knew he'd escape and conquer all in the end. It was only half way through the movie and he's Batman... So, obviosuly he was going to escape. (Though it might have made for a much cooler movie if he just died down there and the rest of the cast was like "Ummmm")

Alternate Ending

So he was obviously going to climb out of the well/ prison. --They had to add in all this "I'm not afraid" and "I want to live" silliness into the mix and make it an even longer movie. Then they wasted time having him climb once and fail (though that was kind of funny, I seriously put my hands up in the theater like, why bother!?!?). They may as well have had a whole 80's montage of a bunch of attempts at climbing the wall and then falling and breaking his body again, having the doctor fix him, and then climbing, and then breaking his back for the billionth time, etc, etc, etc. They could have played "I Will Survive" even though that's not *quite* the 80's, it would have been a fitting song. Would have been way more entertaining than the rough 45 minutes of the movie they wasted with him down there listening to two guys telling stories about a little girl who scaled the wall in one try. Good job, Batman. 

And.................. This next part I actually drew a whole comic to illustrate:

1) The ever-so-tired-coz-no-one-would-hear-you "Batman Voice." I know I mentioned this already, but he has got to stop mumbling!

There is this great scene where Bane and Batman are in the midst of all these policemen and criminals in an all-out battle. There's guns and explosions and shouting and punching, etc, etc. And Bane and Batman find each other in the middle of this war and... start having a conversation.

Ok, nothing new with superhero movies for the good guy and bad guy to have a final showdown-conversation.

Bane says something to Batman to the tune of "We meet again, Batman!" (I'm just guessing)

And Batman replies something to him in his super hushed gotta-hide-my-voice-so-no-one-knows-I'm-Bruce-Wayne with something to the effect of "Your days are numbered, Bane!" (again, just guessing)

Seriously, no one would be able to hear that. These men are having a conversation 5 feet away from each other in the middle of a battle scene, and we're suppose to believe that they can hear each other as Batman whispers at him?

I hope there is a blooper reel somewhere where Tom Hardy just looks at Batman for a minute with sheer confusion on his face because he has no idea what the heck was just said.

(End of Comic)

And seriously, Bane already told Batman that he knew he was Bruce Wayne like half-way through the movie. Why exactly must Batman continue to mumble darkly at people?

********

Anyways, that's just my opinion! Again, don't take me too seriously, I'm being sarcastic. Go out and see the movie if you were already going to, or stay home if you weren't!

Also, if you come up with any other 80's montages Batman could have been working out/ epically failing to, comment below or message me on Twitter - ClaireNoblesArt


And as usual with my previous Slightly Insane Comics, I hope I didn't cause too much brain damage this time! Have a great rest of your day!

Claire Through the Decades (in which she did not exist)

Recently at work, we had a decades theme where we had to come in with hair and makeup from a different decade theme. I spent a whole day trying out different looks and ended up with three. They were the 1920's, 1940's, and 1960's. Just a bit of my weird artsy side and makeup skills for you all to enjoy.

Also, just to be clear, yes, all the pictures below are me. I know I look goofy.

Above is the 1920's which is known for flappers, big sad eyes, cupid lips and S-curls. I also made the executive decision that they were known for long cigarettes and used a pen to simulate that. I had way too much fun being a flapper, but I could not take myself seriously anytime I passed a mirror. My dad got kind of freaked out too. It was hilarious.

Above the look is 1940's: known for the pin up girls, red lipstick, dark arched eyebrows, victory rolls, red lipstick and moles.... This was the look I went with for actually going to work (on the first day anyways). It was more fun and ridiculous and I didn't mind being seen this way in public since the pin-up look is sort of a thing in present day. I went for a Marilyn Monroe/Dita Von Teese/ Pin-Up look.

During the event I had a lady who was possibly 70 to 80 years old see me and completely pause in her tracks. She asked me if I was doing the 1940's and when I told her I was, she said I had it spot-on! Quite a compliment from someone who actually lived then. Btw, I realized from these photos that I should never wink... Ever.

Above is a close up of my hair style on the actual event day. I did huge victory rolls and pin-curls. I liked it at first, then wondered if I looked a bit like Pop-eye's girlfriend... I had about 1,376 bobby pins and at least 8 gallons of hair spray in order to achieve this hair style.

Above is my ridiculous Twiggy look from the 1960's. Every photo I see of her from that time, she looks so depressed with her HUGE eyes and blank expression, so in the top photo, I tried to make myself look as equally zombie-like as I could.

The bottom photo, is the look I went with for the second day of the decade event. I added a bit more drama to the eyeliner and did my hair more side-part-looking. Both ways, I look completely ridiculous, but oh well. One of my co-workers was modeling her look after Edie Sedgwick, so we got a cute picture together-- which she needs to email me... *cough-cough! KATE!*

Hope you enjoyed!

Joe Frog is a Girl!?!?

My brother came over to visit us the other day, and while he was here, he checked up on the Red-Eyed Tree Frogs he gave our mom. (To read the post when we got the Tree Frogs, -click here-) And he told us some life-altering news! (not really) Joe Frog, the bigger of the two frogs, is a FEMALE!

I probably won't change her name though... Joe can work for a girl....

Filbert Toad is still a male. So this makes me wonder if there will be baby tree frogs in the coming months...? That would be so super cute! And way more than we could handle...

In other news, Jasper the Cat still wants to eat the tree frogs, and is going about it in the most cat-like way. He knocked over the crickets (tree frog's food source) and ate a few of them! I'm serious! He's probably trying to starve them out. Malicious cat!

Tomorrow I might have another painting preview or possibly tutorial for you all, so stay tuned!

That is all.... 

Summer Self Portrait Project

"Untitled Self Portrait"
Size: ~8 Feet x 3 Feet
Medium: Ink, Mixed Media
NFS

Above is my school project for my Summer Classes. The assignment was to trace your body and make a full self portrait in whatever media you saw fit. We had some really amazing work brought in. The class was all Art Majors, but everyone had a different specialty. We had sculpture majors, photo majors, textile majors and more, so it was a very diverse set of self portraits.

Detail - above the rose is a mini bear, for my nickname, "Clairebear"
I also have a mini fairy on the neck.

 For mine, I did a pose that sort of describes my flamboyant personality. I was going to try and branch out with photography and sculpting, but mainly stuck with my favorite raw medium: Ink and newspaper. I filled my traced self with inked drawings of mermaids, a crow, a rose, koi fish, jellies, a few butterflies, and song lyrics. Most song lyrics were from the Beatles and one Lady Gaga lyric on my shoulder that describes my attitude perfectly: "Just dance! -- it'll be ok"

Koi fish, lotus flower, mermaid tail, song lyrics, paint splatters, newspaper and the appearance of my old striped stockings from my goth days in High School

I started with old at the bottom, ie: the stocking, mixed media style, and paint splatters. Then I filled up with new, ie: inked "tattoos." If I ever wondered if my inked drawings would look cool as tattoos or not, now I know, they're AWESOME!

The piece is HUGE! It's at least 7-8 feet long. My dad (who is 6 feet or so) had to stand on stairs and hold it up high in order to have me take a picture of it.

Hope you enjoyed!

Finally: Spirited Away - Prints are 50% off for a limited time!

"Spirited Away" -Enchanted Visions Project
Size: ~6.5x9 inches
Medium: Watercolors
©2012 Claire Nobles
For sale: $12.00 (But will be $6 or 50% off for a limited time only!) Click Here

If you've been following me since the beginning of 2012, you might remember this painting from my "Slightly Eccentric Tutorials." Well, I finally got my computer fixed and was able to scan it in and print it! 

I have to admit, I painted this when I was really sick (I think I had a sinus infection) and I did at least all the base work in the first day. The results amaze me because it appears that when I'm not thinking clearly, my creativity gets unleashed to its fullest potential and holds nothing back. Had I been healthy that day, this possibly would have been a much more simple painting. So I guess my point is that I need to get sick more often? Good job Claire. *walks away muttering to self*

Weirdness aside, it will be available as a 8.5x11 print for only $6.00, rather than the usual $12 for a limited time only. That's 50% off! Also, my other new painting I released this week, "Fairy Cat" has also been marked down to 50% off for a limited time. Both will be available at my Etsy Shop in the SALE Section. So for a short time, you could get both these prints for the price of one! Hoo-ray!

In Your FACE: Fourth-Grade-Self!

I OWN this track! --wearing my favorite SFSU college shirt and socks to show my pride!

As many of you know, I was born with severe heart defects. I have faced 3 open-heart surgeries and probably more to come. My life isn't that much different from healthy people. But I do take my health very seriously and have to pace myself throughout activities. But I just started running in May and it has been really good for me. I pace myself and take it easy and do a lot of run/walk training. To this date (July 12) I have run/walked 106 miles! (which is CRAZY!)

Because of my heart defects, I have a much lighter tolerance for physical exertion than most people. Obviously I suffer from circulation issues, so I give out more easily during activities. Way back in fourth grade, when we had to run the mile in PE, I think my time was upwards of 12 minutes. I was SLOOOOW. To give perspective, an average fast mile time is about 7 minutes.

The next year in fifth grade when mile-day came around, my friend and I literally did a rain dance before PE, praying that it would cancel outdoor activities and we'd get a pass. The rain dance didn't work for obvious reasons (we didn't do it right) and out we went. About 3/4 of the way through I gave out and could NOT finish it to save my life. The teacher also had a strict policy against walking! So I "slipped" on some gravel and claimed that I had hurt my foot and could not go on! (I played up the melodramatics a bit.) My mom even came to get me and bring me home. She was really sympathetic when I told her the truth.

My major repair operation was when I was four years old. The surgeons had given me a pacemaker to keep my heart beating, but they took it out when I was seven. Anyways, after some years, the valve starts deteriorating and that was exactly what was happening with me and it was affecting my energy levels and physical activity.

So by the time I got to Middle School, I played the heart-card whenever we had to run. It wasn't exactly dishonest, but for health reasons, I should have at least tried. The thing was that I hated running. I was twelve, so I can't be too hard on myself. It went on like that through middle school and highschool until I had another open-heart surgery at age 15 to replace the valve.

After that surgery I felt like Superlady! I became much more active. I started treadmill running and joined a gym, but didn't like doing more than I could. Everyone could see the huge fresh surgery cut peeking over the collar of my shirt as well, so they would tell me to stop jumping around and sit down-- I had just been through major surgery! (I make people nervous.) With only a semester of PE after my surgery, I never had to run the dreaded mile.

So six years after high school, as I'm walk-jogging along, I timed myself for a new record.

In May, I had possibly a 20-minute mile. Which is awful by normal standards, but pretty good for me!

In June I got down to a 13:45 mile. My fourth grade self with her puny little legs was still beating me, but it was nice to be under 20 minutes. I could see that I was steadily improving.

So on July 3rd (my 24 and a half birthday, no less) after having a terrible day, I went out on a track with my friend Mary to test it out for real. She and I have been friends since we were eight. She's a runner and has completed a half-marathon! She jogged alongside me as my cheerleader and timed me as I thoroughly paced myself through one mile. Every so often she would scream that zombies were behind me (which freaks me out) and I would speed up briefly. I also told her she could shout insults at me like a drill sergeant (she did not disappoint). During the last stretch I sprinted and Mary almost tripped over herself to keep up (I have longer legs).

I finished with a sprint and a new lifetime personal record of 10:35! Take THAT 10-year-old Me! I didn't even try to fall over to get out of it. And when I was done, I wasn't dying either because I had made sure to pace myself even when "zombies" were behind me. Mary also made sure to snap a Captain Morgan Style picture to show how much of a bad ass I've become.

To celebrate my newfound love for running and my new record, I bought a sports shirt that says "Run Happy" on it. This way I remember to smile when I'm huffing and puffing around.

I'm hoping to get my time down to under 10 minutes by the end of the summer, but for now, I am extremely grateful to be able to run!

~Wish me luck!

And Whether Cats Have Wings!

"Fairy Cat"
Medium: Watercolors
Size:5x7
©2011 Claire Nobles

My computer was finally fixed by my amazing computer genius friend, Matt! I painted this last year, and never got the chance to upload it after my PC went on the fritz. So here it is for you all! Right now an 8.5x11 Print is available at my Etsy Shop!

Also, I am having a HUGE markdown sale for many of my inked drawings. I'm trying to make space for new ones! Most are under $10!!!! Get them while you can, because once they're gone, they're gone!

"Orchid Eyes"
Medium: Ink
Size: 4.2x4.5 inches
©2012 Claire Nobles
Only $6 click here

"Floating in the Water"
Medium: Ink
Size: 4.5x7 inches
©2012 Claire Nobles
Only $8 click here

"Playful"
Medium: Ink
Size: ~4x4 inches
©2012 Claire Nobles
Only $5 click here

Super Maturity at the End of Semesters

Just a funny observation about myself:

During the semester I'm a hard working student, but once it gets to the last couple weeks, my stress levels and patience and maturity have reached a breaking point and I begin to do really random stuff.

Last week, with only two classes left to go in Summer Session, I began my college level essay by writing "Title. Something, something something. And then something." That is a direct quote. Clearly, I had it removed from my essay, but still kept the title as "Title of Essay."

It gets worse. Last semester in my greek mythology class, with only a week before finals, I started giggling when the professor mentioned "the island of Lesbos." I mean, I had very little sleep from staying up and studying, but apparently I also have the maturity of an 8-year-old, and couldn't control myself. In fact, I am still giggling about it... And it's not even very clever! There's probably something wrong with me... Lesbos, tee-hee!

Anyways, here is possibly the most pointless essay ever written that I did for my summer semester class. It's goofy.

p.s. I literally wrote the whole first part as it was happening. I'm such a genius... or doofus.

Title of Essay

by Claire Nobles

I zombie-gaze at the computer screen. The clickety-clicking of a keyboard is somewhat poetic, and as long as I can force myself to, I keep hearing its melody. My brain has shut off for the semester. I sit in my pajamas at 1:30 in the morning. My neighborhood is eerily quiet. Everyone in town has gone to bed. Even my nocturnal cat is curled up in my lap, asleep. I can tell he’s asleep because he is snoring loudly.  He has become used to the pattern of going to bed when the rest of the humans do. He keeps my lap warm and controls my urges to throw my computer across the room. My brain cannot produce anything new.

Taking a sip of hot tea, I let the taste swirl on my palette, praying it will give me something to go off of. Surely, I could write five hundred words about the taste of my tea. It’s fruity, soothes my nerves and it is -- just boring, old tea. I take another sip hoping for one more sentence I can squeeze out about tea. I bought the tea mug at the airport when I went to see my family. It is something that I call an “Ugly Cup.” I collect ugly cups. The uglier the cup, the more I like it. This one is a hideous brownish-red with a black handle and has “Albuquerque” on the side. But it makes me think of my family and comforts me when I’m stressed out about what to write for a class essay.

My cat yawns and stretches. Thank the lord: something besides tea to write about! I was going to have a panic attack only halfway through my essay. Apparently I had been tapping my foot without realizing it and it woke him up. He shoots a confused glance my way before covering his eyes with his paws and trying to resume sleep. I realize that if I don’t have adequate sleep, I cannot function tomorrow. The phone is on my desk, so I take it and set an alarm for early. I close the laptop and bulldozer my cat over to my bed. He is very annoyed at my disturbance. He leaps away from me and settles down at the foot of my bed with his back turned and begins kneading the covers intently. I call it “making biscuits” because he looks like he’s kneading dough. As he makes biscuits, he purrs as if he is Darth Vader. It’s loud enough to wake the neighborhood. How can such a vast noise come from a ten-pound cat? I curl up in my covers and try to ignore my cat’s reenactment of Star Wars.

Thud-thud! My eyes unwillingly open to soft light peeking through my blinds. Thud! I already know my cat is responsible for the thudding. Who needs iPhone alarms when one has a needy cat? I stretch and literally fall out of bed, scolding my cat by giving him kisses on his head. As I go about my morning routine, which will include coffee, I come to the realization that I know exactly what to write about.

The Creative Process - a Homework Assignment

Here's another homework assignment from summer classes at SFSU. We had to write about an experience in a poetic sort of way. Don't ask me to describe the assignment, we take hours every day in class talking about assignment requirements. Just know that we had to use a particular sort of writing style that resembles poetry and is slightly unconventional with grammar. I chose to write about something extremely unconventional: creating art! Also, as I wrote, I got inspired to draw what's below. When you read the assignment you might see why. I have greatly missed creating art and shall be doing more of it in the near future for sure.

~Enjoy!

Final Arabesque
Medium: Ink
Size: 9x12 inches
©2012 Claire Nobles
Original: Not for Sale

Creative Performance Process

I stare daggers into a blank sheet of arches hot press watercolor paper, hoping I can explode it with my mind. Several minutes go by and the paper still has not been touched. The mechanical pencil winces in my hand as my fingers flex it to nearly break. Inspiration needs to come soon or there’s going to be a fist-shaped hole in my desk.

As usual, my muse waits for just this moment to strike. As my patience escapes me like steam from a kettle, it becomes clear. A line forms on the paper. *deep breath* Now that one line is down the rest won’t seem so bad. My hand leads and the pencil follows: perfect partners in this dance number that is drawing. The two perform complicated twists, turns, maybe even some pirouettes... incorporating ballroom steps and jazz moves alike. A figure emerges in the lines left by my pencil. I stop abruptly. Was that me, or my hand who drew the figure? When I give in and let my mind go, I am nearly always surprised by what is created.

As I stop drawing, the logical side of my brain kicks in and examines the figure on the paper. The eraser fixes minor errors but leaves the piece mainly untouched. I bring out the pen. Lining the drawing in ink is not as fun as the first time I let my hand wander. The pen is more of a precise and unforgiving presence than the carefree pencil. My hand’s demeanor has changed into a serious dance lead. Strict, like the tango the two march across the lines, abruptly yet precisely turning at exactly the right moments. These two have had tons of practice together, and seldom make errors.

As the hand and pen finish in a final twirl, the curtain closes and my brain applauds that I didn’t mess up. Intermission. I take a sip of much needed coffee. And showtime! 

The paints and brushes are coming out. Professionals, yet they resemble circus characters: with their wild leaps, jumps, daredevil decisions and charm. The stage is drenched with a wash of water using my large Chinese calligraphy brush and a touch of yellow ochre. Now it’s time for the fireworks. Acrobatic paint splatters across the page creating starbursts. Each move is delicately planned and so effortlessly executed. As the ringmaster, I focus and work quickly with each act before the paper dries.

The scene is night and browns and violets are prevalent in the background. A sprinkle of salt to complement the night sky with stars, staying careful not to hit the painted figure. As it dries, I wait; only adding in extra colors when necessary. It’s hard to sit still and play a waiting game. My hand loves to keep dancing. Mixing colors passes the time. After seeing the show, the inner critic dictates improvements to be made. A lovely peach for highlights and a cool blue for shadows: it’s all planned out. Though if too much time passes, I may change my mind. The whole idea must stay fresh or boredom will set in on this audience.

Finally, it’s dry and my hand resumes its rhythmic form. Only some touch ups here and there, though I am a tough critic to please. A smaller brush winds up the side of the figure, holding it steady. The brush must have complete control and the water cannot bleed out. Slow and sure does the trick. Some darkening of shadows and some blending of mid-tones turns the act more vibrant. In the final number I unwillingly let go and let my hand resume its methodical ballet form. A final arabesque and the curtain closes as I get up and stretch: back in reality. My cat falls off my lap. How long had he been there without my knowledge? He grumbles and makes throaty noises as he slinks under the bed. The clock reads four hours later than the last time I checked and the sun is no longer shining beams through my window, it's dark. I would have sworn that time was standing still for me as I worked.

Every time I delve into my world of theatrical art supplies and extremities, I am mesmerized by the performance. And when you have the privilege of experiencing this feeling, your life will be forever be driven by art.

Feeling Insignificant in a Significant Sort of Way...

The following is something I was going to blog about anyways, then my professor for my summer class (yeah, I'm in summer class coz I'm hardcore) asked us to write about an experience in a particular sort of way that resembles poetry. The assignment is too difficult to describe here (we spent an hour or so talking about it) so just go with it and don't be surprised if it doesn't sound like my normal writing style... Also, sometimes I use adjectives and nouns as verbs and some other unconventional grammar, it was part of the assignment, so don't take it too seriously. Kind of a weird piece. Also the title is sarcasm. =)

I wrote about running a couple weeks ago, what followed after I ran, and the weird inner-workings of my brain. Enjoy!

Feeling Insignificant in a Significant Sort of Way

Sitting on my porch with laced shoes and iPhone in hand. I press the giant red button in the center of the screen. "Start Workout." Set off at a lope, hoping that time is on my side tonight. The clip-clop of my shoes echo across the empty street. I increase my pace. I think I’m positively flying now --until I see the silhouette of a bird pass me overhead and I realize I’m not flying, just running. Tasting the heat from my lungs anyways so I stop - and walk. Stupid bird. It’s a breezy night. A few others like me are out enjoying the endorphins. The usual smile, nod or hello is exchanged. They dress in layers, like we live up North. I like feeling the outdoors and the sweat on my skin, like I’m really in sync with nature, really working hard. My shorts and tshirt allow that exaggerated feeling. I wait for headlights to pass and then flow into a run once more.

This time the helloing and smiling comes more naturally. I’m getting better. The heat doesn’t rise up as fast. This time the bird makes me laugh as I fly across the grass, cement, or road.

Just to the stop sign, I think. A homeowner waves as I pass. She’s definitely feeling the outdoors like me. Her garden gloves are covered in earth, her stature shows she spent all day in the yard. As I dizzy, I remember to breathe and look forward. Basics. Only another block, right? I keep telling myself that. But it’s a big block. No cheating, just finish it.

A few complicated dance steps over uneven sidewalk. The thought of injury or stopping in this weather presses me on. The sun is already down. It will only get colder.

Tick-tick-ticking of sprinklers I don’t bother avoiding, just cover my iPhone and it’ll be fine: slap-slap. I forgot about having wet shoes… Stop thinking!

Clip-clop, echo my feet.

I break my rule of non-thinking to check my iPhone. Ok, only two more blocks will set a personal record. My body whines. Here we go.

A black and white furry tail followed by the turn, curious blue eyes and pink wet tongue. “Aw, is that a husky?” I can still talk, this is easy. The owner doesn’t hear me and I’m already passing him and the smiling wolf-dog. My shoes clip-clop against silence again.

I sprint the last few meters as my calves protest yet delight in my success. A personal record and I feel great!

I’ve reached traffic. Loud. I turn back and begin my walk home. The sweat is still hot on my skin even though the wind is not.

As I come around a bend, onto the grass, so does the bright, rising moon. The moon is huge when so close to the earth. Actually, it’s the size of the stop sign ahead. I take this (ironically) as a sign, and stop. My inertia catches up with me and sprawls me into the grass.

My warm sweat from running mixes with the cool grass and it tickles the skin. It cradles me. I stare up above at the evening sky. No stars quite yet. Just listening to the wind in the trees and watching the few clouds that pepper the sky. I feel like I did when I was a child, just watching clouds. I have never felt so alive. The grass is tall enough to make me wonder if anyone can see me, or if I have truly melted into the earth. As a bug crawls across my elbow, I feel as though, maybe, I have. Over me, beyond the blue expanse I imagine the stars and suns and worlds flying jillions of miles away. We’re so small. I briefly feel insignificant, lying in the grass attached to a beyond huge rotating planet—hanging on for dear life as we wildly hurl throughout the solar system… --“Is she okay?!” A slowing car and a concerned voice brings me back from my rather odd daydream.

“Her eyes are open… She’s fine,” another voice replies with fear and relief in her tone—perhaps she’s a mother. The car pulls away. I realize that while I was experiencing all of the universe and cosmic space around me, I was worrying the passersby who only saw a jogger lying awkwardly in an open field, potentially passed out or mortally injured. Maybe I am finally suffering from what they call a “runner’s high.”