Friday, March 18, 2011

Stop Looking at Me

Sometimes, I get randomly paranoid.

Not the kind of paranoid where you assume that every human-sounding voice that you can almost-but-not-quite hear is talking about you because they hate you, or maybe just think you're a dork or something and are planning to give you a wedgie later or at the very least say unkind things about you.

No, that kind of paranoia makes work hell because I constantly hear my name in not-quite audible conversations as I sit in my depression-cube every time I get anxious about anything, but it isn't what I'm talking about.  That's my normal paranoia.

What I'm talking about is the paranoia that really has no justifiable reason (because at work they ARE talking about me, those jerks, when they aren't laughing at me or discussing comic books.)

What I mean by randomly paranoid is much worse.

For example, I can be quietly sitting in the basement living room, minding my own business ALL ALONE, when I realize I'm worried about what the ghosts think about me. I'm not worried that there are ghosts in my house (they're THERE, I tell you, my cats can see them), but that the ghosts might be judging me.  Like I'm not good enough to haunt or something.

Or I can be outside in the evening, looking at stars, and start getting worried about what's looking back at me, and whether said alien or whatever thinks of me as a sentient being, or just a hairless ape to capture and put in a zoo... which might be OK if it meant I could travel in space to another planet, unless they tried to feed me Hot Pockets for the rest of my life.  There had better be some Cocoa Pebbles and milk, too. It would be horrible if they tried to get me to sustain life with VEGETABLES.



Like every inanimate object is looking at me and planning to put a "kick me" sign on my back.

Shut up, flowers!  I know you're making fun of me!

I hear you snickering, you stupid trees!

STOP LOOMING, CLOUDS!  You're invading my space!

Um... you don't know what I'm talking about?  Er.  It can't be just me.  I am not a freak!  Stop making fun of me!  I have PROOF!

Proof is in the pictures.

I was looking through some old photos, trying to come up with another BRILLIANT blog topic, when I started seeing them.  Again.  I mean, I knew they were there, but I forgot.

I call them the "faces in the water".  I am sure they move when you're not looking.

Example 1:
Seems like an ordinary picture of some swamp, right? But if I turn it 90 degrees, and zoom in....
 Example 2:

When I look at this picture, I know there is something wrong.  What is it?

Oh, I know.  It's freaking staring.
Wait, there's more than one!
There's actually dozens, in this picture alone!

Example 3:  Closer to home...

Here is a photo in Loveland off the bike trail.  Just a normal late winter day...
They're always watching.

Usually, I try to read blogs so that I can be all, "That person is WAY crazier than me.  And meaner.  At least I am not THEM."  

But what if I am the crazy blogger that people read to feel better about themselves?

On the plus side, none of these faces has tried to eat me.  Yet.


His Holiness said...

Some of that is a little suggestive of Giger's style; I think you may have found his muse.

Have you considered transferring any of this to paint, just to see what you come up with?

Leauxra said...

I've actually toyed with the idea of drawing the water people, but then I start picturing how it would look if it were a comic book, and then how it would look at an animation, and before I even start a project, I have spent countless hours imagining all the things I could do with it and never once setting pencil to paper. By then, I am ready to start thinking about another project.

This is why I am not a professional artist. I don't "art" enough.

Anonymous said...

i feel bad for enjoying this blog so much--laughing at loud and everything--- and all at your horrific expense! i loved your photos too-it was nice to see hard evidence supporting your paranoia. and great creatures coming out of the ordinary. loved it!--oh, it is kami by the way.

Anonymous said...

great, now I'm never going outside again... or if I do, I'm wearing a disguise so the frickin' faces don't recognize me. Maybe you could make me a balaclava to hide my identity? I'd do it myself but the yarn just called me a bastard.

Leauxra said...

You got it, hoodiehoo. Do you need a ponytail hole, or maybe two for days when you want pigtails? Also, do you have an unusually large or small head? Are you allergic to purple?

Anonymous said...

let's do one ponytail hole, pigtails make me get all Land O' Lakes-y (my people call it maize). And purple once mugged my grandma, but we've made up now... although not if it keeps making fun of my bulbous noggin.