Get your own Robotic Chick

They’re in the news lately, sex robots… so here’s your chance to be the first on your block (or farm) with your own robotic chick. Beat the rush!

Baby barnyard animals are cute, but they can be quite messy and just a little stinky. Japanese innovation has begun the process to create adorable robotic critters starting with this baby chick. Watch as it peeps and tweets as it responds to your touch!

Source: Robotic Chick | ThinkGeek

If That's Life, I Guess I've Had It

I wrote this about my Dad, so long ago I had forgotten about it. Originally published to BackWash.com on May 28, 2004 and written when my Dad died.

My Dad would sometimes say, “If that’s supper, I guess I’ve had it.” This past week after his death that phrase has caught in my mind only I’ve adapted it to, “If that’s life, I guess I’ve had it.”

My Dad was 71 years old when he died. He was born in South Shields, Scotland in 1932. He had one sister who also came to Canada (the whole family did when he was in university). My Dad was an electrical engineer though he didn’t have the actual engineer stamp due to not finishing that last year of university. He could have many times over, but he chose not to bother. He chose not to bother about a lot of things.

Anyway, he married my Mother in 1964. They lived in farm houses and city apartments for awhile, back and forth until one run down farm in a town called Kincardine where my sister was born. She was the third of four kids. We moved back to the city from there cause the farm house had no running water and my brother and I were having asthma problems with the country lifestyle. Two more moves and we ended up in The Rouge. It was the town of Port Union then, later it became part of Scarborough and thus part of Toronto. When someone asks where I grew up I think of The Rouge. It was a very white middle class place. Nice though a bit sheltered.

Dad always loved jersey cows. He kept buying the Jersey Breeder magazine long after we had seen our last farm house. While I was growing up in The Rouge he was daydreaming about a jersey farm. He made lots of plans on paper and now and then we had family trips into the middle of nowhere Ontario to look at a farm he could buy. By that time Mom was pretty much prepared to veto them all. No more run down farm houses, no more him expecting her to run a farm and cows while he worked in the city and came back on weekends to supervise.

Dad liked to sing and whistle while he worked. Often the same old songs about ‘stay home and mind baby brown eyed girl, captain brown being down amongst the dead men and tally my bananas day o’. I’m not even sure what the names of the songs are. But I’ve heard them over and over all my life.

We started looking through his things, picking what to keep, what to display at the service and what to toss. There is a lot to toss. He wore his clothes till they were worn out, he was no fashion plate though he liked to think he looked good. Sometimes he did. Among his things I noticed an old program from a theatre performance of ‘Man of La Mancha” that he went to with my sister and myself a very long time ago. I was surprised to see that. Also one Father’s Day card from all the cards I had ever given him. Usually he left them sitting right where he had opened them and let Mom eventually toss them into the garbage. I put away the one card that he kept. There were also more pins and badges from the local Lions clubs that he had yet given to me to sew onto his Lions vest. Between my Mom and I we had kept them sewn on for him for the past ten or so years. He also had pictures of golf games and events with business associates and sometimes my brother or his current son-in-law too.

He had his first small heart attack while we lived in The Rouge. After that they came more frequently, over time, slowly. He ignored them. Even though his own Dad had died at age 65 from a heart attack which he ignored until he died in the hospital that same night. That just proves you can’t help people who will not help themselves.

I remember being in the hospital up here in Alliston with my Dad just a few days before they took him down to Newmarket for the quadruple by-pass operation. He wasn’t sure about having the surgery and I can see now that he was afraid. That makes me feel very sorry for him. But, I don’t see how we could have done differently at that point. It was likely already too late. Anyway, he had a very bad heart attack right before the surgery but they went ahead at that point cause he would have died anyway I guess. Either then or the next attack. Surgery seemed to at least give him a chance to survive. He did pull through for two more days and seemed to be feeling pretty ok for someone who has just had his chest opened and adjusted. But two days after the surgery he didn’t wake up. He was in ICU and stayed there. Being worked on, his body kept functioning with life support. The hospital staff seemed to think his chances were not too bad at that point. But he never got better and last Saturday, the very day they were going to pull the plug he died himself sometime before 6:00 AM.

Maybe it’s having the distance of time and now death, but I do feel less angry about him and things he did and said. In the end it doesn’t matter. It’s up to me to get on with my own life. On Monday we are having the memorial service. Mom is bugging me about what I will wear. I am not looking forward to having to make chit chat with people who think they knew him. Cause they didn’t really know him. Dad liked to make a show of his life. He was always Mr BigShot and we were holding him back, picking on him and making things difficult in general. He would tell his business associates, the local Lions club which he joined and others all about us, as he chose to see us. So, no, I’m not looking forward to two hours of hearing about what a good guy he was. But the service is for them I think. For me, I don’t care. He is dead and it’s over.

Right now beside me I have an old rolodex of his business cards which I’m sorting through for valid names to add to the guest list. If he could be there for the memorial he would be happy with the show put on for him, because of him. His due I expect he would think. For me it’s just something else I have to do. I wonder if I will think of him much after the wind down of everything. It seems as if we’ve been expecting and waiting to put on this last show since we were kids and here it finally is. Now we can do the show and put it into the past and leave it there. All the build up and the suspense will be gone. Just like Ian N. Brown himself.

Outsider Art (You Don't Have to be Crazy)

What is Outsider Art?

RawVision: What is Outsider Art?

Nada Farm Museum of Archetypes: What is Outsider Art?

Wikipedia: Outsider Art

The term outsider art was coined by art critic Roger Cardinal in 1972 as an English synonym for art brut (French: [a? b?yt], “raw art” or “rough art”), a label created by French artist Jean Dubuffet to describe art created outside the boundaries of official culture; Dubuffet focused particularly on art by those on the outsides of the established art scene such as insane-asylum inmates and children.

While Dubuffet’s term is quite specific, the English term “outsider art” is often applied more broadly, to include certain self-taught or naïve art makers who were never institutionalized. Typically, those labeled as outsider artists have little or no contact with the mainstream art world or art institutions. In many cases, their work is discovered only after their deaths. Often, outsider art illustrates extreme mental states, unconventional ideas, or elaborate fantasy worlds.

Interesting Ideas: Outsider Art Links (no longer maintained).

International Outsider Exhibition of Modern Art 

Flavorwire:  The 13 Most Amazing Outsider Artists of All Time

Flavorwire:  10 Contemporary Outsider Artists Everyone Should Know

Outsider Environments Europe

Vulture: Jerry Saltz on the Outsider Art Fair — and Why There’s No Such Thing As ‘Outsider’ Art

Profile Written on eVow

I wrote a profile for eVow, a spin off site from Plenty of Fish. They claim it is a site for those who are looking for a serious relationship versus those who want something quick and temporary (we all know what a quick screw is, right?)

This is what I wrote for my profile.

Header: Kind of quiet, romantic and optimistic. (I had more here but it cut it off).

I am a good listener but prefer a two way conversation. I have a lot to give and a lot to offer but I’m not throwing it away. I like science fiction, history and the arts. I take photos of abandoned farm houses around Ontario. I work as a freelance writer, copywriter. I keep a few blogs and enjoy the writing, researching and illustration which I do myself. I am BBW, plus sized, large, however you want to label it. I don’t hide it. I like to keep life simple and being honest is a great step in the right direction.

I want to meet a man who is single, non-smoker, about my age and close enough in distance that we can get together at least weekly, more often if it works out. I am allergic to animals, though I like most of them. I am ok with kids – I spend time with my family and I am a favourite with nieces and nephews. I am undecided about having kids of my own, mainly because I am not getting any younger.

I’ve learned to try keep profiles short and to the point. Men don’t actually seem to read them, they only look at your photo. If you don’t have a photo you aren’t likely to hear from men you actually would want to meet.

The "Successful" Blog

People talk about having a successful blog. Most of those people are the money making, SEO, business bloggers. That’s fine for them to measure success in terms of number, scores, ranks and ads (sometimes even revenue). It’s not for me.

I don’t blog for those reasons so my success isn’t measured that way. I blog for personal reasons and success isn’t really what I’m looking for from this blog. Often I write to hear myself think. I draw to keep myself working on understanding how to draw, learning by doing. I wished I could draw for a long time and suddenly, once I actually started doing it, I realized I could. A personal achievement. That’s a successful blog for me.

I love exploring, decorating, and meeting people through my blog. Posting my photos of flowers, abandoned farm houses. Making changes to my template, taking a risk on them totally bombing and then fixing them again. Having new people comment on what I have done here and visiting them in return for more ideas of what I can do and in some cases making a personal connection that I want to keep and grow. Those are things that make a successful blog for me.

Success isn’t really the right word though.

I joined up Entrecard as an experiment, something new to try. I like joining new sites and networks and learning a bit about how they work. Seeing if there is something that will interest me about it. Entrecard has become partnered with SezWho. I don’t think it is a site I would have joined if it wasn’t for the partnership with Entrecard. I really don’t like the idea of rating/ scoring comments given to my blog posts. That seems very arrogant. I don’t want to do it. If I can automatically set it to score every comment at 100% I will do that. I moderate my comments and filter out any junk. Every other comment I fully appreciate and don’t feel I have the right to sit and judge them. A comment is freely given and should not be something that falls to the “successful” blogging scheme.

I’ve set up SezWho for those who want to score big with this. It seems like a get points quick scheme and little of real value to me. But, I am giving it a try, for now.