Poison Ivy and Batman. (Halloween)

Just me and my awesome Batman.

"He's the hero Wheeler Farm deserves, but not the one it needs right now..."
Our hero scouts the farm for any signs of danger, but all seems quiet.....

But in the fields of Gotham awaits a poisonous redhead...!!!!


Whose very lips are venomous!!!
Oh no!!! What will our hero do?!?!?!

In a crazy change of events it seems Ivy has become smitten with Batman instead!!

So everyone is happy! Except Batman who then wanted to go look at the cows at the farm.

Closeup of makeup. 

How To Cope With Autumn, Alex Style

Summer is so over.  Winter is so close.  The temperature is so cold.  I have severe SAD (seasonal affective disorder) and every season change is like a four-month-long knife in my heart.  Metaphorically.  Here are some of the ways I cope, complete with vintage cliche photo editing.  You might also want to check out this fucking amazing indie album which sets the mood for cooler weather with beautiful soft vocals, intricate and soothing acoustic guitar, and cozy/sad lyrics.  I recommend "Goodbye My Love" and "The Dragon's Tears" especially.

Onto my autumn list.

1. Live in a beautiful, breathtaking place, and appreciate it.

2. Take cold morning walks and get creeped out by the sound of footsteps behind you.

3.  Appreciate snow.  You might as well. It's better than bitching.  Besides, it's pretty.

4. Have the best, most wonderful and amazing international friends anybody could ever hope for.

5. Find a badass local coffee place complete with art and amaaaaaaaaaazing coffee.  Quirkyness helps.

6.  Have the world's best pet, a kind of pathetic pumpkin, and photos of your biggest inspirations over your workspace.  And yes, Sanguine, a god of debauchery, is one of my inspirations.  Are you surprised? Also in the mix is Benny Siegel and Howard Hughes.

7.  Read awesome books all goddamn winter long. Real books. None of that ebook shit.

If you follow these steps then you're well on your way to transitioning into this colder weather!!! Stay tuned in case I have more inspiring advice.  I doubt I will, but you never know.  And now I'm off to eat watermelon and read more about the mob in Vegas.



Tuesday Derik and I went to Wheeler Farm, which is as you might have deduced, a farm.  It's a nice place here in Salt Lake, sort of a mix between an agricultural group and a farmer's market and a park.  There's lots of things to do and lots of animals: horses, cows, pigs, goats, chickens.

Chickens.  I grew up with chickens.  I raised them; game chickens which my dad used for cockfights (go ahead and laugh, I said 'cock', hardy har har.)  I have hatched baby chickens out of their shells without an incubator, I've nursed sick chickens back to health.  Once I even took in a poor crippled chicken who had been dropped by a hawk and his legs were deformed. We named him Charlie Chaplin.

Anyway, chickens.  They were my companions.  I know I've already put myself on the weird wagon a lot and talking about chickens won't make things any better, but I really loved those animals.  I can tell you everything about a chicken, from what to feed it to make it stronger, to how to cuddle it and calm it down, I can glance at one and tell you if it's healthy or sick and what it needs to feel better.  I taught my baby chickens how to roost; I put them in trees and then sat with them in the branches reading stories aloud until they went to sleep.  It was always difficult when they got old enough to sleep outside on their own (they were swaddled while they were too small to roost) but my chickens and I were always close.  That's why I don't eat chicken now; the occasional hamburger or BBQ sandwich might slip by me as I'm a flexitarian, but chicken is off the menu now and forever.

So, there were two baby chicks at Wheeler Farm.  I couldn't stop, I couldn't leave them alone.  I cuddled them and kissed them and cooed over them in a way that would even be embarrassing for a human baby let alone a bird baby.  So many memories of my pets came flooding back to me and I felt like a piece of me that  got so lonely I'd forgotten about it had just mended right back up.  I seriously couldn't stop being so happy about the darling little chicks.  Derik actually noticed what I felt, and he commented throughout the day (both during our time at the park and after we went home) that he'd never seen me that happy.  He's seen me travel the world and achieve a lot of my dreams and have a lot of fun over the past six years, so for him to say that is really evidence of just how much these little birds mean to me.

There's nothing I can do about it.  I want to raise chickens again but I live in an apartment, in the city.  Also, I have cats.  I'm kind of the worst candidate to have chickens.  This makes me sad, because nobody loves chickens like a Worley.  Especially Alex Worley.  I wish there were some way I could have them in my life again, because I feel like it would be therapeutic   Like how some people have depression cats? I'll have a depression chicken.


Creative Chaos and Blogging.

If you've even been looking at my blog over the past week or so, you've probably thought someone either hacked me, or that I finally fell off that steep ledge of 'barely sane' I've been wavering on for about a quarter of a century now.  I've been stuck in a really weird state of mind since Tennessee, although maybe that's not fair.  I was really in that mindset as soon as EMT class came to a close, because my focus has to shift to the next phase of my life, whatever that really is.  I don't like change and I especially don't like transition, so I've been feeling weird.

And usually when I get in this angsty existential crisis mode I take it out on my creative outlets; usually writing and painting.  Painting has had a wrench in its side ever since I was supposed to move out of this shit apartment way back in July; all my supplies are sitting in bins packed up and ready to go.  My novel will never suffer at the hands of my own mental feebleness, so the next creative target was my blog.  I feel like blogging is a conglomerate of scheduled linky parties, questionnaires, people standing awkwardly and taking waaaaaay too many self-photos of their thrifty outfits, Moms and Mormons, and married women who are loving their significant other, and young college girls who make crafts.  And then there's me.  It's hard to find a niche, but I did it successfully over the course of this year and I've met some amazing people.

But as always, my creative process is changing and growing and transforming, and it's taken a turn away from that de-facto style of blogging that still fascinates me, but that I don't really have the energy for.  There's nothing cathartic to me about blog parties or step-by-step photos.  There's nothing cathartic about organization really, I kind of hate it.  I'm the anti-anal personality.   I think maybe the scheduling (weekly features, etc) messes up that sporadic creative spark that is the driving force behind my ability to write interesting things, and I also feel obligated to do things others do, because...when you're a blogger, that's 'what you do'.

Not only has my creative process taken a few unexpected turns, but here's a point I feel the need to share with all my followers: every winter my personality and demeanor takes a very drastic turn.  I am pretty sure that most people can relate to this.  We act and feel differently when the weather is different (assuming you live in a place with seasons.)  Mine is severe, and I don't know if it's inherited, and I have been diagnosed with seasonal affective disorder, but the end result is the same.  I become more closed, quiet, doleful, melancholy, hard-working, hard-thinking, and my emotions go into the toilet and are to some extent even filled with bitterness.  Having 'family' holidays in winter probably doesn't help this mindset, as I'm forced to watch everyone participate in those celebrations I've been alienated from for a decade.  I still write in winter, I still do everything, but I do it almost like a different person.

This entry is already longer than I thought it would be; the point is....this blog is probably going to sound different, and become way more of a personal blog than it ever has been before.  I know a lot of people see me as candid because I really put myself out there with the things I write about, but there are things in my life going on that I never write here and I really don't know why.  For example, I'm currently trying to apply to be an au pair in Sweden and have spoken to a few families.  This is a huge thing, it would be a crazy change--living in Stockholm with a host family--and for some reason it hasn't made its way here.

I don't expect anyone to want to stick around if they're not interested in my winter personality switch and my probably boring rants on things like the human psyche and the uncertainty of my future.  But I felt that instead of just deleting this blog and starting fresh with zero followers (which is what I at first had considered) I would try to push on because I love this blog and all my peeps here, and they had an explanation owed to them.

That's all, now get out of here.