a little ditty

in the late 90’s i was living in lexington, kentucky, waiting tables at a pub with a club attached. one night i was next door at the club when random older guy starts talking to me. i was enjoying the conversation to some extent, when he mentioned that one of his employees had a huge crush on me.
i perked up & got a lot more interested in the conversation.
i have always loved the idea of secret admirers and spent most of my childhood imagining someone was secretly watching and would swoop in & show the world my genius…yes, i had a talent scout as an imaginary friend.

so guy is telling me not much about my secret admirer, except that he works for guy’s pool building business and that they often eat lunch at the pub, but my secret admirer is afraid to approach me & will not.

guy goes on to tell me that his own name is “chester.” adding that he is not a molester. note to y’all: if someone feels compelled to tell you they are not something–that is a red flag.

so chester who says he is not a molester invites me to go have some food at perkin’s. i am always game for free food and adventure, so i agree. i was not getting any too-weird of vibes off of him…and free food.
plus i wanted to hear more about my secret admirer.

so i went to perkin’s with him & he fed me & entertained me. when he finds out i have the next 3 days off (fourth of july weekend) he invites me to come out to his farm & ride his horses. he assures me that he has guests out there all the time & that he is very popular.

of course all i hear is “ride horses”…something i had never done despite my life-long love of horses.

i am not a normal person. if you read my blog, you know, i am special…& i say that with my tongue in my cheek. where most women would be like, “hell no, strange man, i will not go out to your remote farm alone with you at night.”

not me. i’m like, “sure!”

horses and a secret admirer…it was like he knew & was offering me my favorite candy to follow him home.

once at his place…i started to get the serious creeps. he had way too many antiques (i have a fear of antiques) and he kept standing way too close to me.

he had to get up early to work at his pool building company where my secret admirer worked and asked, “you can sleep in my bed of the guest room.”

GUEST ROOM! i told him.

“i have to warn you, i sleep naked.”

GUEST ROOM!

so i go to bed with my body on high alert. his dogs come and get in the bed with me. which is great because i trust dogs, even if they are owned by a molester. i wear all my clothes. i only take off my shoes.

sometime in the wee hours of the morning, he creeps into the room and shoos the dogs off of the bed and climbs in, naked, and cuddles up to me. i am rigidly laying there, pretending to be asleep, waiting for him to have to get up and go to work. like a opossum, playing dead/pretending to be asleep is one of my go-to defenses. not a practical one always, and it has pissed off many a boyfriend…but i just kind of shut down. i freeze. on retrospect i wish i had jumped out of the bed and kicked him right in the crotch…but i was conflicted, scared, confused, and had no idea where i actually was in order to escape.

he left for work.

i took his van…& left him a note??? what? another thing i would change on retrospect.

other than being totally creeped out & traumatized by mr. molester, my big worry was that he would tell my secret admirer that he had slept with me.

i know. what? really?

my boyfriend at the time (yes, i had a boyfriend, but he was an awful boyfriend who i just couldn’t seem to get rid of) blamed me. he told me it was my fault.

so i went back to work, but i kept an eye out for my secret admirer. here’s the thing about me. i love blue collar guys. i love cops & firemen & farmers. given the choice between a successful clean cut banker and a scruffy guy who builds his own cabinets and smells of the outdoors…it’s really no contest.

so i picked out my favorite blue collar guy who ate lunch at the pub. he was a little guy (i also have a thing for little guys–check out my adam ant post) with a shaved head and a big nose (yup, add big noses onto my list of attractions.) i would watch him whenever he came into the pub with his co-workers. but he never ever looked at me. we never made eye contact. it was almost as if he was actively avoiding looking at me.

but he stayed my favorite pretend secret admirer.

i left kentucky to escape the bad boyfriend. i waited until he went to work, packed everything up, left a note (again with the notes?) and had one of my sisters drive me to illinois. my plan was i would stay with my folks and save money & go to school in the fall. but my folks pissed me off and i packed up and headed back to kentucky where i was going to meet up with another sister who was going to let me move to galveston, texas with her. she had a couple more weeks before she was moving to lexington.

naturally, i went out to the pub & to see a show at the club. i was drinking and perched on the edge of the pool table, watching the band, when i noticed my pretend secret admirer was there and he was actually making eye contact.

so i hopped down and went over to say hi.

we got married about a month later.

he was the guy who was secretly in love with me. when he found out i was headed to texas, he proposed. again, normal woman would be like, “hell no, strange man, i’m flattered, but maybe we can take this slow…or, you know, too bad–you snooze you lose.”

not me. i married  him. thing about me is i want so badly to be loved, that i will marry a stranger if he says he loves me.

i think the only reason a serial killer hasn’t gotten me by now is that i wear pretty boring underwear that may or not actually be underwear. there isn’t much about me to feed those fetishes. but tell me you love me, and i will marry you.

i think it helped that i had been pretending he was in love with me for so long–and then to actually find out he was in love with me–it was like an overload to my brain.

a month after we were married, he said he didn’t think he loved me.
and i threw up.
and i moved out.

as i like to do (or else why would i do it so often?) we had an on-again/off-again relationship for three years. i divorced him in the middle of that time, but we often dated and even had long-distance relationships when i would leave lexington to adventure in other cities. but, overall, he was so withdrawn and barely present in our relationship, that my ego actually suffered and i spiraled downwards until i started losing all respect for myself and moved to wisconsin to get that kentucky funk off of me.

if you are still reading this, i will get to the point.

he emails now and then to flirt with me. i get pissed off because where was this devotion when we were married? and my being pissy sends him straight back to his cave.

but the other night i was out with a friend who reminded me of my secret admirer in a way. so i texted him, not realizing he did not actually have my current number. once he figured out who i was, i ended up asking him to come see me.
and he said yes.
and he is supposed to be here tomorrow.
and i am excited to see him…but worried i am setting myself up.
like i’m feeling too strong lately so i need to knock the wind out of my own sails.
would i do that–yes, well, i have a history of doing that….

he says he has changed.
he says he is a better man now.
i tell him that my other ex-husband says the same things.
i tell him that i have had two lonely marriages & don’t want to do that anymore.

he’s coming to see me, trying to bring baskets full of rainbows & unicorns & being together.
i told him, come see me, yes, but leave the promises at home.
i don’t trust promises.
he won’t get any promises from me.
i don’t want any from him.

what is it with my fucking ex-husbands and loving me after i am gone?

so, anyway, all that is why i haven’t gotten any ink done in a couple days. i have been busy, physically & emotionally.
but i should have this finished by the end of the day.

little punk rock me

when i was 13 i had every intention of marrying adam ant.
i got his strip album that christmas and went on to buy all of his solo albums as well as his punky-er stuff with the ants.

i love adam ant.

he might be to blame for my always falling for short-ish guys with blue eyes & curly hair.

when his concert tour of the u.s. was announced last fall, i posted that i needed to have tickets. and a friend bought them for me (thank you!!)
but then i started worrying.
do i really want to see him or will it just be weird. like the whole “you can’t go home again”? he is almost 60 years old. all his publicity shots seem to emulate captain jack sparrow after a really long night of drinking. is it going to be weird to see an old guy trying to be young?

except…i mean, adam ant was one of the things that helped me survive a fucked-up childhood. fantasizing about a world out there where people like adam ant lived & breathed…it helped me push through all the bullshit of growing up in an alcoholic & abusive home in a small oppressive town where i was a freak from day one.
his music. his lyrics. his seductive lip-glossed smile. his leather-clad hips.
adam ant shaped me more than i realized. is that weird?
i have listened to his music all day today and a lot of my wonderings about how i turned out a feminist in a household that demonized feminism have been answered. i was liberated by adam ant.
sure, i might also have been born leaning to the left in a right-leaning home…but i think if my folks had known what i was listening to, they would have been limiting my time on my walkman.

the concert is on tuesday in chicago. i am driving alone to chicago to see the man i dreamed about every night of my adolescence. and even if he is old, fat, and goofy…i think adam ant will always be my hero.

pixie

i got several text messages from my ex-husband today. he is lost and wants me to find him.

he started out asking if we had snow. we don’t. he does. “is that different from when you were a kid?” he asks about my snowless winter. he knows i worry about climate change. his question is a question about that. instead of comforting me, he likes to provoke my fears.

but i’m really not in the mood. not anymore.

“doom & gloom” i text back to him. he thinks i am referring to myself. i let him know that i feel he is always trying to get me to think about the worst.
i let him know i am done thinking about the worst.
& i am done with him.

he tells me he wants to be my ally.
i ask, why, he never has been before.

he tells me he wants to support my dreams.

he tells me he has been doing crunches.

after awhile i stop answering his texts. after i tell him that there are so many things wrong with the world that all i can do is to choose to be happy.

i am happy. strangely enough.

i am happy.

 

work in progress

when i was in my late teens & early twenties
i had such debilitating social anxiety
that i could barely carry on a conversation
much less express how i felt in a constructive way
my therapist taught me to approach a situation with this:
“i feel _____ when you _____”
i need to remember this
as well as to examine why
why
i feel that way when you _____.
in this world as i know it.
i see two problems with communication.
those who don’t follow the above advice
and react without thinking
and those who over-think the situation
and never act on it.
my realizing this doesn’t fix anything.
the world seems to continue on with it’s problems
despite my epiphanies…
but i am going to do my best
to examine why i feel hurt when my feelings are hurt
and to just ACT when i see someone else being hurt.
i was going to post this on facebook. but i think i need to severely curtail my relationship with facebook for the sake of my mental health as well as for the sake of my children who are the only ones nearby i can vent at when i have absorbed just way too fucking much of the facebook world.
so from now on i will blog my thoughts and share the post on facebook. if anyone wants to listen to my rantings…or peruse my art…you can always just look at my art and get a more veiled look at my psyche than my journal provides…so if anyone wants a look-see, they will have to leave facebook and come here. i know it is just one link click away…but it’s one click away.
i feel safer here than i do on facebook. i kinda shoot from the hip and choose to try to express myself effectively rather than thinking about how someone might interpret my word usage. i was recently “called out” on facebook (i hate that expression) for using a word. however, i used the word correctly & inoffensively & in referencing my own mental health, but someone was still offended by it. instead of talking to me about it, this person just berated me. and i withdrew, but i refused to take it back.  maybe if she had said, “i feel _______ when you _________” then i would have known that she was responding to me as a human & not just reacting to a word i used in a way  she didn’t like. and i in turn could think about why i felt it necessary to use the word and why i was hurt by her berating me for it.
here is what i am going to do:
i will not use my words to hurt (or if i do it will be clear that i intend to hurt with them–like calling trump an asshole.) but if my words do end up hurting, instead of just attacking me, tell me why you feel that way. okay? let’s have a conversation about it.
so my brain being on overdrive is one reason i have not finished my ink. lately i have been getting at least one a day worked on, but i am stuck on this one. with all of the “oh my god look what trump is doing now” in my facebook feed & in my email, i am shutting down and unable to function. i constantly have that nagging feeling in my head that there is something wrong that i need to obsess about…and then i realize it is everything. i need to worry about everything that is going on in the world.
but actually, what i need to worry about is taking care of my kids and my homestead and even myself–because if i shut down due to internalizing all of the bullshit trump is doing, i will be useless at saving the world.
and i need to do art.
but in the meantime, if you need somewhere safe to stay, here i am. come stay at my homestead. i would love to have my place be  a functional safe haven for oppressed people.
and i will be your ally when i do venture out into the world…even if i sometimes use inappropriate words like “fucktard.”

elephants in the clouds

i suspect that i am an empathetic sociopath.
i suffered a lot of emotional abuse as a child, and now i find it difficult to bond.
with people. with pets.
i think i bond with my kids? i think i do. sometimes i shut down…but then again, my kids can be really overwhelming.
the thing is is that i am so so quick to withdraw. first sign of trouble & i shut down. i turn my emotions off.
i don’t have a lot of friends for this reason. it is difficult for me to make friends. i always have walls…and moats…and trapdoors.
i love the idea of friends.
but i just don’t know how to do it & i always suspect people hate me & then..you know…trap doors.

today i felt this overwhelming & heartbreaking loneliness. i don’t mind being alone, but oh my god i am so lonely.
is it because i feel like i don’t relate to others?
is it because i have trouble believing anyone could really care about me?
is it because there is so much unrest in the world these days?
so much isolation? social media creating isolation? social movement causing isolation?

i went on facebook today and posted this post:

i feel lonely in this world
lonely to my bones
it’s not just me
none of us seem to know how to communicate
how to start a conversation
it is all reaction
and hurt feelings
who is to blame
a witch hunt.
and worst of all
people die…people suffer…people are oppressed
animals are abused and driven to extinction
the environment is destroyed
while we bicker.
can we just start over?
hello, i’m a bisexual bigender white pagan anarchist feminist
single stay-at-home mom on state aid
no–wait–i’m a human being.
different from you, but also the same
& i’m so so lonely.
will you be my friend?

and i immediately felt better. i felt like i put everything out there that i was afraid of saying about myself. those things that might make me troll bait.

this is the crap i do on social media. expose myself. lay everything out and wait to be crucified. fortunately, i surround myself with people on facebook who are understanding & nurturing…for the most part.

either that or they are a little afraid of me.

i have been known to scare people…and i’m okay with that.

& in that vein…here are some clown balloons.

parade

this is my first use of tan toned paper. i like it better than the gray tone. and i used a white ink stain again for the toned paper.

at first i wasn’t sure about this one. but by the end i really liked it.

i finished the inking earlier, but i had to do bedtime before i could write this post. so i thought about what i would post as i lay in bed getting poppy & misha to sleep. i thought about telling y’all about my friday, where in addition to getting a fucktard for a president, i also got an anonymous religious tract in the mail addressed to me. my legal name. therefore probably from someone i know, but like i said…anonymously sent. not even a note saying, “hope you don’t burn in hell!” and a smiley face.

motherfucker.

and then while i was reeling from those two things, plus having just gotten home from the store and having to put away groceries while minions scream for treats, i missed two text messages from my ex who then both emailed me & messaged me on facebook in a panic. i fell into a conversation with him as i tried to be human & show some concern for his state of anxiety, but then he kept saying things like, “it won’t be like it was before.” and lamenting the past and promising change and i ended up having to put on the caps lock (i hate capitol letters if y’all haven’t noticed) but i felt i had to be clear. i don’t think he understands that we are broken up and i am never ever ever ever ever ever ever going down that path again.

so i used caps lock.

but he still didn’t get it.

anyhoo.

that’s what i was going to post about. but then i felt all mellow looking at my white ink on tan paper and decided to just talk about my picture instead.

it’s pretty, right?