nesting (day 17)

day seventeen at my shambles
of a nest
&
i see his fabulous nest
& though i do not think of him
as a potential mate
i look at him
preening
in front of his
fabulous nest
& think
hmmmm…
maybe?
& for the first time ever
i understand those women
who choose mates
by their fancy cars
& their fancy houses…
but
still
at the end of the day
i fly home
to my dilapidated nest
because
it is mine
it is home.

true story. i love my house. maybe i love it most of all because it is mine. but i do love madness manor and even enjoy looking at my gutted walls & imagining what will happen there.

i’ve been reading up on salvaged homes. i love the idea of finding materials that need a home rather than buying materials that are designed for mass production.
my home will one day be it’s own work of art.

magnificent

i shouted my demons down
who told you
i was that?
who told you
you could call me
that?
i am not
what you say
i am
rather
i am magnificent
i am majestic
i am fabulous
not
what you say about me
but
what i say about me
i am
feral fey
witchy woo
i am
magical.

i have started doing this whenever i hear those fucking little demons whispering nastiness into my ear. i shout at them. i tell them how wonderful i am.
so far so good.

why?

my son
like so many children
to derail me
will challenge every answer
i give him
with
“why?”
i have decided
to start doing this
whenever
someone thinks i should
do
something i do not want to
do
& i have realized
so many people
do not have an
answer.

i wrote this last month during a time when i wasn’t very enthusiastic about my journal, especially since i was consumed by my new house.
but i have done this.
it works like a charm.

shits & giggles

little victories today
folding laundry
washed
at the old house
& travelled
to the new
little victories
mopping the mud
off of the bathroom floor
mud left by a flood
three
years
ago
mud from rivers & hills
mud that has lived in this house
longer
than i have
& with modest
success
driftless mud
mopped up
for shits & giggles
not out of any sense
of duty
it’s my bathroom
i wanted to see what it would
look like
sans mud.

i keep looking at all the things i need to do (boxes piled & still packed; walls with screws & nails that need removal/repair; a door that needs hung so one can poop in peace; etc.) and just kinda shrug. meh. i’ll get to it eventually. i’m hanging around this place for awhile. i can take my time figuring things out.
it’s nice not to rush. not to freak out. not to listen to the anxiety telling me i better get it done or else.

so in 2018, one of those freak storms happened that dumped tons of water in a short amount of time. as a result, three? dams in the driftless broke and water filled the little town i now call home. the water filled the basement of this house & went up to the third step as it creeped toward the second floor. walls, cabinets, appliances, and carpeting was destroyed & ripped from the house three years before i met it.
i like to think of it as a baptism for my house. a beginning, not an ending.
i lived in illinois at the time.
in the flatlands.
some think i’m crazy for choosing to move to a valley where one is warned not to put anything they care about in the basement.
but i like valleys. i feel safer there. more at peace.
why does someone from the flatlands of illinois crave the lush intimacy of a valley? well, durp, why wouldn’t they? i have seen enough plains & cornfields. i have had enough big sky & unstoppable winds.

today the kids & i played in a beautiful creek & watched the shadows of the clouds roll over the hills and i said to them, “aren’t we lucky! we live here!”

day ten

day ten at madness
manor
temperatures in the 90’s
& internal
conflict
afoot
who am i?
& why does that little
voice
whisper
“fat…ugly…old
irrelevant”
no!
i chose this
i did
i took this path
because i am not like
them
my bohemian spirit enjoys
doing dishes in a clawfoot
tub
digging through a cooler
for food
hanging laundry amid the trees
to dry…
this is who i am
i chose
this.

after a couple of days of spinning out. i came to this conclusion.
i did this. i want this. i made this my life.
there is method to my madness at the manor.

irrelevant

i am irrelevant
redundant
pointless

and cannot spell “irrelevant” apparently. thank god for autocorrect.
as spoken of yesterday…loneliness & strong beer kinda made me spin out. or maybe i was just overdue for a visit from my demons…

i drew a cat because my cats are driving me up a wall. plotting against me. hunting my fairies. new house; old cats. we are all figuring it all out all over again.

day seven

day seven at madness manor
sexy…so not sexy
my house is sexy
not i
forgive me my sins
my trespasses
i would better serve you
if i were
sexy
fuck.
i’m lonely
…if i buy it
build it
will he come?
my handy
man
yes?
to my sexy
house.

so i started being a “free-aholic” in the spirit of “freegans” …in that i am only drinking when the alcohol is free. so i’ve been mostly sober lately.
however
my ex husband brought me a six pack of strong beer when he came to take the minions.
this poem is the result of drinking two of those too closely together.
yikes.
but i do feel very lonely. i look at myself, alone, and i feel such a profound pain. i think maybe my pain can be heard. like a siren’s song?
ah. a journal page for another day.

(this was written on day seven, but posted on day 12)

moving on

i can’t remember
how many times i’ve
packed
up my life
how many times i’ve
moved
in my life
i do know that this
will be the ninth time
i’ve packed up & moved
with kids
will this be the last time?
my forever home at last?
somehow
i have trouble
imagining
sitting still
& putting down
roots
no matter how many times
i tell myself
it is
the thing
to do.

my record for times moving (in both a calendar year & a 12 month period) is six times. that was in the nineties.
i spent the first almost eighteen years of my life in one house. i moved out the week i graduated high school. my first move!
i can tell you the states: illinois to iowa to illinois to virginia to kentucky to texas to kentucky to illinois to kentucky to texas to kentucky to illinois to kentucky to colorado to kentucky to texas to georgia to kentucky to wisconsin to illinois to wisconsin.
i think i got that right? maybe not. that’s from 1988 to present. that does not include moves within a state. the aforementioned six moves in a year was in normal, illinois. i can’t even remember all the places i lived there. but, all my stuff fit in my car so moving was not an ordeal like it is today where i have to spend weeks packing & then rent the biggest truck available.
yikes!
anyone want to help me with this last (???) move?

seriously

it’s really difficult
for me
when people take me
seriously
because
i guess
then i have to
take myself
seriously?
it’s hard
to goof off
when people
are counting on
you.

this is a big problem for me. i don’t take myself seriously…then when someone else does, i am thrown for a loop. i start wondering…should i be taking myself more seriously? why don’t i take myself seriously?
i guess as a kid
i learned it was easier to laugh–to make a joke–then to feel the feelings that hurt.
taking myself seriously requires my getting past the painful part first…& i’m not always prepared to do that. it’s just easier to laugh & dismiss myself as a joke….
(even though that also hurts)

smother me

i keep catching myself
trying to
smother me
in worries
in
things that have
to be done
now!
or else!
or else what?
i sometimes
think to ask
&
the voices
sputter out
take a step back
to plan
a new attack.

slow & steady wins the race, right? i am making myself purposely move slowly. trying to think more slowly. i was freaking out about the lawn at my new house. i use a reel mower (or as i call it, an amish mower) & the lawn was getting longer & longer.
so i asked my friend to borrow her mower. and for some reason i had to do it that day. even though if i had stopped to think, i did not have time to mow. plus i was running late for an appointment. but i ignored the voices telling me not to worry about the mower & went to get the mower anyway.
and i threw out my back lifting the mower.
and then decided i shouldn’t use it anyway.
so i took my reel mower out to amish land to have the blades sharpened. as well as getting my scythe & other lawn tools sharpened.
then, a week later, i told my boys i would pay them to mow the lawn.
sure the lawn looks like it was a victim of a slasher movie…but i am honoring my desire to live a low-impact life, giving my boys work experience as well as life experience, and taking my time instead of getting it all done now!now!now!
and my back feels much better.

(i borrowed from gustave dore again for inspiration for the inking)

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