The Kim in Kimmunication Arts

Pondering my next adventure

DISCLAIMER:

My name is Kim, or as one of my friends calls me, Kimothy.

What you are about to read is true . . .
sort of . . . well an exceedingly twisted version of the truth anyway. The names have NOT been changed to protect the innocent (even though I AM innocent I tell you!) Any resemblance to persons living or dead is probably one of my friends, family or my dog! (Don't hit (or bite) me guys! You know I love you!)

So, who is Kim? Well, since you asked . . .Let me see . . . Where shall I start? Perhaps the beginning would be a good place.

I came into being in Lubbock, Texas on the eleventh day of April only a FEW short years ago ("choke!") . . . the result of a sinister experiment gone awry.

In my fourth year of life, two people claiming to be my parents brought me and another child, (they told me she was my little sister) to Southern California to start a new life. We left behind many more of our kind lurking in the dark recesses of Texas, Louisiana, Alabama, and Oklahoma.

Since those days of my childhood, I have reached physical maturity (though the mental sphere is another matter altogether).

Throughout my life, I have held many different jobs. My last "reality based job" however, must have come as a result of some strange twist of fate (or perhaps the personnel department just wasn't paying attention.) I was hired as an emergency police dispatcher. Yes, I was the voice that answered the phone when your neighbor was hacking at your door with an ax (heeere's Johnny!) I don't know which is the more terrifying thought, being finely minced by your neighbor, or ME being your lifeline to help! Yikes! A bottle of wine will get you some good "war stories" though! Heh, heh!

Eventually job burnout set in. Or maybe I had just dodged a few too many stray bullets that had misfired from the locker room. Or perhaps I had been playfully handcuffed to my desk a tad too often (bad policemen, BAD!). Whatever the reasons, I needed some time off. So I took an extended vacation (translation, "I quit!") spending my days, planted firmly on the couch, and performing the daily ritual of watching hours of mind numbing "tabloid T.V." You should have seen the other inhabitants of my household scatter like frightened rats when I barked out a terrifying "WHO STOLE THE REMOTE?!?!"

Then, without warning, the nocturnal beast in me began to stir each night as darkness descended upon the house. Something would beckon to me . . . a lure I could not resist . . . a force far greater than my meek little will. Thus I found I would haul myself up off the couch in the twilight hours and trudge off to a place I have heard some refer to as "higher learning." A place called "University of California at Santa Barbara". What an incredibly beautiful place!! Now I KNEW that I had been drawn to where I was supposed to be!!

There I began to strive to create works of visual interest. I dreamed of the day when I could simultaneously entertain the eye and induce deep, intense emotions in the pits of the stomachs of every observer (no, you didn't eat a bad burrito!) I imagined that accomplishing this feat would bestow upon me the greatest of satisfaction. That is when I knew that I had "the calling". So journey I must . . . into the deep dark twisted realm of the visual problem solver -
yes . . . Graphic Design.

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Continued . . .

Many years have passed since my time at school. I spent many days (and some nights) staring into the solitary glowing eye of the beast that resides on my desk. I pushed pixels and painted with light. Most of my creations were beamed out into never-never land, cyberspace, the Net, the Web. I dot-commed many a company, for a wide variety of products and services. It never ceases to amaze me what people do for a living! Yikes! Makes me feel almost (but not quite) normal.

15 years of weaving sites on the web, and again burnout set in. I wanted a more "hands on" experience. I wanted to get down and dirty. Now dirty I am. I dabble in clay, melt silver, cut glass, solder various metals together. Sometimes my play results in wearable art. Other times it turns out to be something functional. Each time I start a project, I never know where it will end up . . . that is the FUN part! It helps me maintain what little mental health I have left! (Stop looking at me funny!)

Though woman can not live by design alone. I sometimes grow weary of the world of color and form. When my brain becomes fuzzy and my eyes dim, I venture away from the confines of my desk and / or work studio and seek other forms of pleasure and excitement.

Sometimes, I find it in the miraculous world just outside my door. I love to mingle with the earth. I love the intoxicating smell of damp soil as it cakes on my knees and under my nails while I dig, pull, plant, water, and feed. I have a friend named Igore, who diligently stands guard against the evil bugs and keeps me company while I play in my garden.

I have to be on my toes around some of the other residents of the garden however. The hummingbirds have become quite aggressive over the years. I am frequently an innocent victim in the territorial fights that constantly ensue over which bird currently claims possession of the feeders. Many is the time that I have been caught in the line of fire. I have had to duck, to avoid a being impaled by one of these dart-like rockets! They like to sneak up behind me during the nesting season while I am down on hands and knees. They will pick up a single strand of my hair and pluck it from my head! One morning as I was admiring the new blooms, I heard a "whoosh" right next to my left ear. A lone hummingbird had flown right up to my face. We were only about 2 feet apart, staring at each other eye to eye. I was frozen in amazement as the tiny creature hovered in front of my face for what seemed like forever! I think she wanted to steal some of my hair, but I caught her before she could sneak up on me. She finally flew away with an empty beak.

When my aching back tells me that I have communed long enough with nature, I shower the earth from my body and move on to less dangerous activities. I can sit for hours listening to music. Staring off into space, getting lost in the sounds and stories of each composition. Or pick up a book and be transported other worlds, other lifetimes. And of course I am always up for a good scary or sci-fi movie ... sometimes even the occasional "romantic chick flick".

I have also been known to concoct stories about the people who have the fortune (or misfortune, depending on your perspective) of crossing my path as I journey through my days on this planet. It doesn't matter if my observations about these naive and unwary souls be real or imagined, I will prey upon them nonetheless. Even as I relay my secrets to you I feel the yearning to find more unsuspecting victims.

Oh! And by the way . . .

What did you say your name was?
{Insert sinister laugh here}