My Little Angel Hana Soah...

Sometimes being single and pet-free really sucks. It will hit me hard that all I ever do for months on end is go to bed at night, sleep, get back up in the mornings, have my bowl of cereal, go to work, come home from work, go to my Jazzercise class, come back home again, have dinner, and then turn on the tv just to have some noise in my life. Often I'd go to the kitchen and clear off a corner of my table to study but other days I'm just too exhausted to do anything at all in the remaining 2 hours that I have before the cycle begins all over again.

Most evenings I go online chatting with my cyberfriends, searching for a connection. Other times I just admire the pictures on my favorite doll boards. Sometimes I just lie there on the floor and watch the evening light fade into night shadows on my living room walls, and I listen to the sound of my somewhat wheezy breath going in and out, in and out. And my soul bleeds just a little bit more.

Then there are days like today, where the predictable cycle is derailed by something out of the ordinary. I spied a package sitting in my mailbox as my bus pulled up to my stop in front of Peter's Chinese Cafe. As soon as the doors opened I bounded right off the bus, hurried over to the mailbox, and grinned from ear to ear as I touched my package, looked at the return address, and considered the weight in hand. I made myself wait until I got up the single flight of stairs to my unit before I opened it. When I did, something beautiful that I've somehow forgotten about fell out of the worn and slightly crumpled box into my expectant and hopeful hands. And even though nobody noticed, a warm light began to glow in my little corner of the universe.

Today's package came from Ted and Bill, two extremely talented men known for their exquisite white-work lace dresses. This one was for Hana Soah, my little Angel. When I put it on her, she seemed to just radiate what I was feeling-- a delighted awe and a simple, peaceful, quiet joy. Full of thanksgiving for God's love, I realized that sometimes the silence in my life is a gift.

--Tinooseus

Sewing...

Lately, I've been out of sorts because I don't have time to sew for my dolls anymore. The creative urges are still strong, the ideas that come to me in the middle of doing diagnostics for electronic databases (for school) and my fingers just start twitching like mad. I miss the motions of sorting through my not-so-secret stash of fabrics (textures, colors, patterns, drape) for something that is just perfect for my current mood and mindset; of cutting out patterns and marking darts; of lightly steaming partially sewn pieces of fabrics, pushing and pulling a threaded needle through fabric; of the umpteenth prick of the needle into my fingers, the ache in a neck spent bent over a machine all afternoon, the numbed butt-- I miss it all!

I miss making something that just delights my senses and my longings to recreate that little something that I saw in a magazine, on television, walking by on my lunch hour, or appearing in my nocturnal slumber. I miss the satisfaction of something coming out just right-- or the frustration of something just missing the mark in every way possible. I miss the threads and tiny scraps of fabrics trailing all through my apartment from my saggy socks and I miss those moments at work when perplexed co-workers reach out to pull a length of cut thread from my collar or hair.

I don't miss the scattered pins, or the time spent on my knees sifting through the carpet fibers looking for those blasted near-invisible miniature spears just waiting to stab and pierce the unsuspecting toe or heel a month or two from now. And I don't miss that moment when completely satiated, I look up and survey the aftermath of the horrible storm my tiny apartment sustained during the frenzy. Every button back in the button jar; every pin back on the magnetic pin cushion, all the spools of thread recaptured from underneath tables and rewound, all the tiny scraps divided into a "someday crazy quilt" pile and the circular file, all the doll-sized pattern pieces accounted for (the jeans has 11 pieces!) and replaced in their envelopes for another afternoon.

Love it and hate it-- I sorely miss sewing.

--Tinooseus

In the Mood for Love...

Devon T. (aznbutterfly) made me this most amazing cheongsam! I asked for retro, he gave me absolute perfection! Quickly, I had to come up with a wig that fit the mood I was trying for. I've tried on every black and/or brown wig that I owned, made ponytails and buns and just about gave myself a headache from the grinding teeth thing. I even tried a secret trick from the drag-queens (which shall remain a secret here!)--absolutely NOTHING worked. So I went to my Jazzercise class to sweat and think, came home and stood over my stove (more sweating and thinking), answered email, ate dinner, and thought some more... I actually had an idea, but couldn't think how to go about it (and it didn't work, anyway). So I pulled out my old reject wig-- some label-less, shapeless, pitiful wig that for some reason I never got rid of....and made the perfect beehive hairstyle.

And so it all came together...cheongsam, shoes, cigarette, hair. Even the lighting was perfect-- by the time I got Amelie Soo ready for her photoshoot, it was almost 10 at night.

Listen! Can you hear the velvety and lush voice of Ella Fitzgerald singing in the background? Smell the lonely trail of smoke floating out into the night? Somewhere in the room, the sound of a tap dripping...a car goes by... a voice echoing in the street below my apartment window...

There's a saying old says that love is blind,

Still we're often told, "Seek and ye shall find."

So I'm going to seek a certain lad I've had in mind.

Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet;

He's the big affair I cannot forget.

Only man I ever think of with regret.

I'd like to add his initials to my monogram.

Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamb?
There's a somebody I'm longing to see,
I hope that he turns out to be
Someone who'll watch over me.
I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood.
I know I could always be good
To one who'll watch over me.
Although he may not be the man some girls think of as handsome.

To my heart he carries the key.
Won't you tell him please to put on some speed,
Follow my lead, oh, how I need
Someone who'll watch over me.

Someone who'll watch over me.

Happy Valentine's Day!

--Tinooseus

January's Elfdoll Photo of the Month Results...

Well, ok-- I didn't win, but it was fun! The last time I was a contestant was in the November Photo of the Month, and Hana Soah won that one by a slim margin! For a whole month, I got to see my beloved doll up on the elfdoll site, and it was GREAT! This month, the winner was JKlesh with over 500 votes! Wow! That's quite a jump from my own personal best, a 204-vote finish. (Never mind my modest 48-vote win in November after I bugged all my friends, family, and coworkers to get out there and vote.) The fun thing about January's results was that a) I didn't even KNOW that my photo was selected until someone announced it on one of the BJD forums that I frequent, and b)when I scrambled over to see whose dolls were selected, there was my very own Hana Soah with 178 votes to her name. I was so awed to know that she had some fans in the BJD world! So, though this picture of Hana did not win, I just wanted to say Congratulations to JKlesh and his Joan!

--Tinooseus