The Ordeal

This is the unpleasent (and kind gross) story of my past couple days.

So a couple days ago I was at work eating pizza. I bit down and heard a disturbing cracking noise. Upon further inspection I realized I had managed to crack my tooth in the back. This was a tooth that was already in need of being fixed so this made it worse. Being unsettled by the fact the tooth was basically in pieces, I called the dentist and made an appointment to have it fixed.

Now I went in expecting a root canal because of how bad of shape it seemed to be in. But apparently it was worse than I thought. I was informed that it would be best to just have the thing taken out. However it was so bad that they simply couldn't pull it out, it needed to be surgically removed. So they referred me to an oral surgeon across town and they said they could get me in in an hour.

Upon getting there I walked into a small waiting room filled with people and sat down. Soon a man walked in wearing an orange prison jumpsuit and shackles on his wrists and ankles. He was escorted by 2 officers. He went back and the woman informed me that he was put in front of me since he was an emergency procedure and he couldn't be in the waiting room. Awesome. So I was pushed back an hour. So I sat nervously and waited.

Eventually I was taken back by a very energetic assistant. She kept saying how much she loved my dress (the monster dress) and started asking me about old monster movies. At which I gave her a brief lesson on Bela Lugosi. The the doctor came in. Upon looking at my tooth he informed me it would need to be broken in pieces and taken out. Pleasant. I told him before he began that I probably need more shots to numb me than a normal person. I for some reason have an annoying immunity to pain killers. And for the first time ever, he didn't argue he just said 'alright'. Most people argue and tell me that's not possible. But I assure you it is. I usually take about 2 shots more than a usual person.

So after many shots (including some into the roof of my mouth and straight up into my tooth) the left side of my face had no feeling whatsoever. What followed was...well....very gross. First he pushed some metal thing in my tooth to break it in sections apparently. The cracking noise was absolutely disgusting sounding. And it was so loud. Next he used some kind of super drill that was about 4 times louder than a dentist drill. Then he starting pulling parts out with a horrible twisting grinding noise. Then came the fun part. Apparently the tooth was stubborn and refused to come out, so it was necessary to cut around it to get to it.....

I was taken to get an xray to see the status of it. Along the way the ever energetic assistant kept pointing my dress out to people. Two more women sat in the room with me and felt the need to ask me questions about why i was going to vegas (I told them that's why I wouldn't be able to come in the beginning of oct) then upon learning why felt the need to ask me 50 questions about Bill. The conversation would have been fine if I could feel my face and didn't have gauze in my mouth.

Anyway, back to the chair. Again he started working on getting the damn thing out. Him and 2 assistants worked on me. I'm not sure what they were doing but there was a lot of grinding, cracking, drilling, and apparently cutting. They kept marveling about how 'tough' I was since I barely flinched through the whole ordeal. They told me grown men had cried over the stuff they were doing on me. Eventually with one last crack he pulled out the last part of the fucking thing and they all kind of cheered 'heeeeey!' which was odd.

Next he told me how I was one of the best patiants he ever had, since I dind't move or bitch at all. And told me he was going to put a medicine pack in that spot so I wouldn't feel it as much later. Apparently that is something they don't usually do, but he was going to for me. That's nice of him. So he did that, then I felt thread. Stitches. Ew. I sat up they gave me all my instructions and whatnot and I stopped to make a follow up appt at the desk. In which the ladies then saw my dress and one started asking me if I liked Vincent Price (of course I do). Then they noticed my RHPS purse. Which then caused one of them to start singing time warp. On that note, I went home.

I went and got my medicine and went home. I wasn't feeling anything and didn't really for the rest of the night. I hung out with Nicola, watched Wolverine and ate yogurt.

Today I was supposed to go to a wedding of my friend Erin. Upon getting up my face was a bit sore, it was swollen, and i was bleeding again. Very unpleasent. Upon discussing with Tanya and Nicola, we decided that me going was a bad idea. The pain killers were going to knock me out and I couldn't drive. And at the actual wedding I would be a zombie. Though I felt bad, it just wasn't happening today. I'm glad I stayed home, I was miserable. I'm hungry as hell but can't eat any real food, and my medicine makes me feel weak and sleepy.

Although I must say through all the unpleasentness. I'm really glad that tooth is gone. It's in the very back on my mouth, you can't see it unless i tip my head back and show you. And it just caused me so many problems.

So that's what has happened with me. Mouth surgery is an unpleasent thing. I can't wait until this heals and I can feel normal again.

Stubborn Artist

So, what I've always said I've wanted to do with my live would involve art. I want to make art for a living in some form. Lately I have been thinking about how this choice could pan out, and I'm finding a few snags in the plan:



* When it comes to the things I draw, I want things how I want them. An idea plants itself in my head and I don't want it messed with. Watching my original idea be altered, even as simply as a change of colors, will drive me mad. I could see ripping an editors head off or being a horrible pain in the ass when doing a collaborative work.

I'm finding this already as I try to work with Bill for his EP cover artwork. I gave him the art in pieces, and he pieced it all together.....wrong! Well in my opinion. Heh, the colors were wrong as was the arrangement....in my mind. Because I saw in my head what I would have done. Knowing I had given this over and creative control no longer belonged to me drove me mad. Literally. I threw a box of klenex across the room in frustration. I'm so sick of looking at it, I am burnt out on the idea completely. But I will finish it. It will be fine in the end.


*I draw. That's my main source of artwork. But I don't draw portraits, I draw cartoons. And these are very distinctly my own. And I have to wonder if my style and my medium really have a place in the world of computers. It seems almost every art degree is based in computer graphics. I long for the day when classic animation was dominant. Because that is what I wanted to do when I was little, be a animator. Frame by frame. But that doesn't really have a market anymore. I am versed mainly in a style consisting only of pencil and ink. Is there a place for what I do anymore?

Just a couple of things I think about lately. My ability to draw is important to me. It's the only thing I believe I can do well. And everything I make is very much a part of me. If I suddenly lost my ability to pick up a pen I know I would completely shut down. When it comes down to it, I do this for me. If people like what I do, wonderful. But I don't make things to make people like them, it's in all honestly not done for them. It's Cathartic, for me. Don't get me wrong, I love when people like what I do. I like hearing feedback. I'd love to share my work with everyone, but I can't compromise. I'm a stubborn artist, I won't change how I am or what I create, I guess I have to find a way to work with that......


Taking a break from the EP art (because I need to for a bit so I can finish it later) I made this real quick.: I swear I didn't realize until I was done that I made here shirt look like the Swedish flag. Ha!