what now?

i was thinking about how i am reluctant
to sketch more ponies
right now
even though i think
i do a good job of it
& it might have more mass appeal…
i think back to that art professor
who was all like
yeah
but what do you
really
want to be doing?

what
do
i
really
want
to
be
doing?

creating stories with my drawings
telling stories
crafting worlds
& characters
merging my art & writings
in the most perfect way
possible.

drawing these pictures,
i wondered, who are they?
what do they want?
what would i do if i set them
free?

puzzle box

who i am
is
changing
how i do my art
is
changing
how i see myself
is
changing
it’s like
one of those puzzle boxes
where you move
one piece
&
all the other pieces
shift
into
place
dominoes
that seem to be
falling
but in reality
are creating
a bigger picture.

something is shifting inside of me. which is awesome, but i have to remind myself that just because i finally start moving, i can still get stuck again…or often, when one problem is fixed, another rears its head.
so now that i am starting to heal the ugly me & let her believe she is pretty, who will show up next?

i feel pretty III

i used to worry
that people
would think that i think
that i am
pretty
now
i think
i will go ahead
& know
that i am
pretty
& not give a rat’s ass
whether they agree with me
or not.

i’m not going to go out & join any pageants or put together head shots for modeling…but i am going to stop ducking my head & acting like i’m offending people by showing myself in public.
so far so good

i feel pretty II

if i am ugly
that
justifies
my feeling
like a misfit
an
outcast
i am more
comfortable
as a pariah
than as a
popular
so
i created
a monster persona
shave my head
&
bare my teeth
you best steer clear
of me
(they i can know
why i feel
so alone.)

i keep thinking back to when i started feeling this way. feeling like i didn’t belong & was surely the ugliest thing ever. a lot of it happened in grade school. i was a sensitive child, & i was weird. other kids didn’t really get me. so maybe it was easier for me to tell myself i was ugly?
easier than believing there was something deeper causing my pain?
my parents sabotaged my ego
my peers finished me off
& i stomped on any good parts of me that survived the rest of it….

i feel pretty

i always cry
when i hear the song
“jolene”
but
do i have a right to?
i have lost a lot of men
& boys
to other women…
but i have
also
been the one
they come back
to
the one they choose
when there is a choice
to be made
part of me
wants to be
clings to
the idea
of being
ugly
unwanted
outcast
but part of me also knows
though i am
an outcast
i am also
quite tragically
one of
“the beautiful ones.”

even just transcribing this from my journal to this blog, i balked. what? who am i to say i am beautiful? no one is going to believe i am beautiful.
so uncomfortable with that identity!
when i went to forestry camp as a teen, i was embraced immediately by these two girls who said we should all stick together because we were the prettiest ones. i couldn’t get away from them fast enough (quick before they see i am really ugly!)
& i promptly found the freaks & outcasts to spend my week with.

yes, i would rather spend my time with the freaks & outcasts, but i need to stop telling myself i am ugly. i need to believe i am–despite being unconventional–beautiful. i need to believe that other people can see my beauty.
i know sometimes they won’t, but as long as i do….
i mean, ultimately, i just have to stop telling myself i am ugly.

its like i have my heart in my hands & i am trying to convince it that it is not so broken that it cannot fly….

muted

you ruined my day
&
i can’t even tell you
because
it will just blow up
in my face
i’m muted
by my fear
of what you will say
what you will do
how you will react
if i tell you
you ruined my day….
you ruined my life
&
i could scream about it
until my face is blue
but
it won’t change
a thing
no matter
what i do
you will never care
never
notice
you ruined my life.

ah, quality time with the ex.
it’s emotional abuse–making someone terrified of speaking up. manipulating a person to the point where they are afraid to speak for fear of how you will react.
it is an emotional abuse i am very susceptible to & have extensive experience with…
& it pisses me off.

two-fer

“makeover”

who am i
if i am not ugly?
who am i
if i am not
self-loathing?
how do i imagine
myself
as anything other
than a
monster?
i have told myself this
story
for so
so long
how do i write a new
ending?

“in the cards”

the cards tell me to
let go
(let go let go let go)
of something
no longer
true
the cards tell me
i cannot see
my true potential
through
warped lenses
the cards
however
do not
tell me how to let go
they do not tell me
how to see myself
through a lens
not
contorted
by self-loathing.

my tarot cards are always telling me to let go of something & i’m all, “i have let go of everything….” except, i realized, my self-loathing & stubborn belief that everyone looks at me and sees some hideous monster. that everyone can tell i don’t belong. that i am ugly to the core.
can i let go of a belief i have held close for most of my life?

messing around; getting dirty

i have just been craving
some literal
hands on artwork
so i found some pencils
to add to my inks & oil pastels
i haven’t used pencils in forever
i poo-pooed their eraserability
but now i find myself desiring
the scribble & smear
of charcoal pencils
i can’t help but wonder
what it means
about me….

(up top: “escape” 9X12 pencil, ink, & oil acrylic on watercolor paper…suggested price of $75)

for love or money

sometimes i wonder
if i had
just one wish
would i wish for love
or success
then i’m all like
what kind of lunatic
would choose love
over success
then i’m all like
what kind of monster
would choose success
over love
if i could only have one
forever
after
& not at all the other
could i live
without art & writing
could i live
knowing for sure
i would never love again?

by money & success i don’t mean i want to be wildly famous & wealthy…all i want is to be able to not worry about if i can pay my bills…to be able to do fun things every once in awhile without having to count my pennies…to NOT live off of credit….

sigh.
yesterday when it was 11:11, i wished for an agent.
today i woke up with “waterloo” by abba in my head.
in 1995 i started working at a bar called waterloo in austin, tx. i had been working at a daycare & the hours worked well with my fiancĂ©’s hours so we got to see each other a lot. however, i was unhappy and missed working nights in bars. so i took the other job, alienated my fiancĂ©, and ended up having an affair with a co-worker.
pretty much the worst thing i have ever done.
it’s not that i was choosing success or money over love, but i was bull-headedly doing exactly what i wanted to do, fuck the consequences.
not an uncommon move for me.

something for me to think about as i move forward.

ps. speaking of agents & success, i am getting the nicest rejections! i don’t know if literary agents are just sweethearts, or if my writing is as solid as they say (despite not being what they are looking for.)

tender toes

is it today?
nope
not today
maybe tomorrow
you can pull yourself
together
pull yourself
up
by your bootstraps
maybe tomorrow
you can stop
moping
because
today brings
headaches
heavy hearts
& tender toes
but tomorrow
tomorrow
could be golden.

i learned in a writing workshop something i knew instinctively: sometimes you have to just sit back & not write
“procrastination” is part of the process of creation. that slow simmer…percolating….
i would do it too when i was studying for a test. i would stop when i felt full & just let all the information i had been inhaling settle…digest….
i can only assume it is the same with healing. sometimes you just have to put yourself on the back burner and not think about it. not worry about it. just sit quietly.
even if your brain is screaming at you for it. telling you you’re doing it all wrong….
sometimes you just have to take a break.
i haven’t been doing much artwork. or writing. or yoga. or hiking. reading my tarot. or much of anything.
but that’s okay.
there’s always tomorrow.

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