First, today’s art.
Now, I’ve picked up a new iPad app called Clip Studio Paint. I’m in love with it already, as I enjoy desktop software more than mobile whenever possible, but I use my iPad for literally ten hours a day. I’m a huge proponent of Art Studio Pro and often over the last almost year have done my design work within it.
My goal with this software is to learn a colour portrait technique. As you can see I have a long way to go. I know if I use a grid technique with an airbrush (physical) I can do this pretty easily:
But that was my first attempt at airbrushing years ago and my hands are weaker now than then–and they shake just an itsy bit more violently. And I’ve always wanted to teach myself some form of portraiture so I can sketch people, even with the mild face blindness I seem to have. It’s not major. I can’t see myself in photos easily, and ignore people I know without realizing it sometimes. I go by voice more often than not.
So here’s to 100 days of art, and getting started with day one.
Losing Weight with Mild Cerebral Palsy and Schizoaffective disorder, and $.95 per meal. Day two.
I’ve come to find that I hate scales. The one in Arizona clocked me in under 300 lbs when I left that morning. When I checked today back in Portland I’m sitting at 309.5 lbs. Damn. About as chunky yet funky as week old cottage cheese someone left opened in the back of your car.
My goal was to have the lawn mowed by Sunday, but the part–a new carburetor– didn’t arrive until late this afternoon. Other than slicing my finger open, and needing to buy a dual set of vice grips that the clerk luckily upsold me on–which I turned out to exactly need two of to hold the damned gas tank tube in place while removing it, without a safe place to pour the gasoline out, it was a fun learning experience.
But it runs! And with immense vigor too–or not at all, which I’m assuming is probably not amazing since it’ll run itself rich the whole time I use it, but at least tomorrow I get to mow my lawns again and can not be the shameful yard on the street once again. One thing down.
I’ve also invested in some body shaming glow in the dark wrist bands. They have holes to punch through as lettering that’ll spell out almost whatever you want. My first is a “No soda” one. The next will be “no junk food” since at the moment belts and watches that once fit me when I left no longer do, and I am happily upset at myself enough to read those until they sink deep into my fat head’s perspective, and I stop craving them. I was able to do it with sugar in coffee. The hard part is not going to a cafe for an iced mocha with almond milk because my prediabetic dumb ass doesn’t understand that’s one of the things causing my issues. I think I’m just lonely, and it used to be nice to sit there and write. I wrote my first novel at the local cafe for fun. I remember vividly traipsing through the snow one winters day trying to lose weight and the satisfying skritching the metal teeth of the snow shoes I wore gave to the tile as I took them off, as I found my favorite writing seat empty. It was, and is, a pleasant memory.
Right, where was I? Exercise for the day.
When Jeanette and I lived together we would go up to the local mountain and hike up the hill, around the bend, and down and up the mountainside again. It is a roughly 4.4 mile hike, and extremely painful for me even when I was 220 lbs. So I thought fuck it, let’s see how badly off I am.
It took me an hour to get up that first hill. Roughly a miles walk. I stopped twice, in enough pain to seriously go back down the hill again and call it good. My legs are so tight at the moment that I had to manually force them in circles until the ankles loosened just enough to keep going. That’s the best I can hope for.
But I got up there. Went around to the gravel path I’ve walked hundreds of times before, and made it roughly 100 steps before turning around. I’m just too heavy to do the full thing at the moment. I also made the mistake of bringing a backpack with me that just ended up digging into the bad part of my spine the whole time. I have a proper hiking bag Dad left me when he died, and I don’t know why I didn’t use it. Embarrassing, but at least I made it up that hateful hill.
I stopped under a tree in the shade, where the grass was matted down by other travelers–which I had always been too nervous to check out, and stretched my legs.
Took this photo to show that I’m not kidding.
I’m not sure where I’ll go to walk tomorrow, but now that I’ve started the only thing I’ve got to do is keep going. I’ll have to see how many miles I walk doing the lawn.
Have an excellent night.