outside the box

i live
outside the box
yet still find myself
listening to the voices
shouting out
at me
from that fucking box
still find myself
projecting that box shape
onto my own life
only to berate myself
for coloring outside the lines
scribbling outside the lines
creating whole worlds
outside the lines
i could cut off my arms
cut off my legs
remove my head
& i still wouldn’t fit
inside the box
& why
why why why
would i want to stuff myself
inside
knowing i would die
kept in a box
i live
outside the box
& that
is the perfect fit
for me.

every day of my life tends to be a reminder to me that i don’t fit in. most days i am totally fine with that–some days anyway. even as a kid i wasn’t all that interested in fitting in. and the older i get, the more i realize just how non-non-conforming i am. how unconventional i am. never doing what everyone else is doing. with my flip phone, no internet, unschooling, buy-nothing-new, free store mentality….
people assume i am going to do what everyone does when they are fixing up a house. but i’m not. i’m going to be me…& that house will be an extension of me. of me & my minions.
it will be complete madness
in the best way possible.

(speaking of which, i am looking for foraged/salvaged materials & ideas for sustainable renovations. so if you have experience with this or know any good sources–let me know! also! who wants to come over & help me build walls & floors & maybe a rocket mass heater from whatever we can find to do that with?)


cautionary tale

i aspire
to not become
a cautionary tale

(i probably already am a cautionary tale…)
on a related note…i was trying to think of a name for my house. i am thinking of naming it “madness” after the band who wrote “our house” as well as a wink to the state of mind in buying a house that needs as much love as mine does on top of my four children & myself all being a bit mad….

my house & my dog
what will one day be my studio, office, & tarot/tattoo parlor

heavenly horses

so the story goes, in 1994 i was in virginia attending hollin’s university when one day i was on a walk and found a horse tangled up in barbed wire. the horse actually called me over to it & waited patiently as i untangled it. i knocked on the door of the house i assumed it belonged at, but there was no answer. i wanted to make sure someone knew this horse might need more attention, so i found the stable manager for hollin’s university and told her.
her answer was, “you will get your reward in heaven.”
over the years, i have never forgotten those words. as a pagan, i often turn them over in my mind…trying to understand what they mean.
i have actually used them on my children at times as it sounds like some weird brush off for an over-eager attention seeker…& it makes me laugh to say it.
lately i have started thinking about doing a story called riding horses in heaven loosely based on this.
now i am thinking it will be a graphic novel.
i have started doodling my heavenly horses….

have a fuck

do you ever wonder
what it’s like to be
lovable
to feel
desired
do you ever wonder
if someone will maybe
someday
look at you
like that
or are you trapped
forever
some bitch
who just
doesn’t
give a fuck
anyway.

i watched brief interviews with hideous men, and it left me very conflicted. i am a lifelong feminist even though i didn’t even know what a feminist was until i was twenty-two. i have had a history of disastrous relationships and am admittedly a very dominant female.
i wonder. should women be soft & vulnerable so men can feel important? and then i’m all like, fuck that…. but part of me kinda yearns for a protector & bread winner. & then i get mad at myself…& then i say, but why not? why can’t i be a romantic & a bad ass?
and, of course, still be a feminist… i mean, anyone can be a feminist if you believe women are just as important as men. no matter if you are a stay-at-home or a conquer-the-world (or both in my case…ha!)
i don’t know.
just wondering stuff. out loud. here.

honey bee

he woke up suddenly. wondering. trying to remember
the last time he had seen a honey bee.
he can remember summers as a boy when it seemed
every clover crawled with them & running barefoot
would surely result in a stinger in the arch…
between the toes.
calling out in pain to bring mother running so she
could soothe you with an ice cube and soft whispers
of how you got hurt…but the bee died.
he wanted to be a farmer all his life. he lived
for tractor rides. hide & seek in the cornfields.
the smell of fresh cut hay.

lately my stories begin with scribbled thoughts inked over with drawings. i am not sure ever if i will continue the story or if it will live out it’s life as a post on my blog…. maybe one day i will come back through my journals & collect them all.

no more tears

driving home
with an eyelash in my eye
two hours
with an eyelash in my eye
wishing
a sad song
would play on the radio
because
for the life of me
i could not
make myself
cry.

unable to make myself cry and a surprising lack of sad songs on the radio made for a painful road trip. i’m not sure i know who i am if i am unable to cry at the drop of a hat? usually i can think about my childhood…my marriages…my loneliness…or the year of 2015, and i will start crying.
apparently now, there are times, when i am not completely tragic.

speaking of crying…happy mother’s day!

divine comedy

it’s all fun & games
until someone starts
a zombie apocalypse

i have been looking at other people’s art for inspiration. here’s one inspired by gustave dore. maybe i’m missing moses jones more than i realize….

comfortably conflicted

i am comforted
by the idea
of falling apart
hence
my conflict

more on that tower card conflicting me & my trying to figure out what the fuck…. i am more comfortable falling apart than i am feeling whole. this is a conflict to my healing.

if i complete me

you don’t know what
to do
if you are not
falling apart
pain & disappointment
are your norm
your baseline
picking up the pieces is your
favorite
past time
falling apart
(again)
has become
a conflict
because
you are
afraid to accept yourself
as
whole.

this is my working thought. i keep drawing the tower card lately. the falling apart, crumbling down card. and i don’t feel like i am falling apart…so i wonder why it keeps showing up.
then it occurred to me that i don’t know how to do anything if i am not falling apart. falling apart is what i do. or, rather, holding it together with all my might….
so…what do i do if i am not holding everything together? how do i function without a bus load of stress running me down? there is fight & flight…where is the relax?

what goes up

i’m up up up
again
worrying
again
about the fall
down down down
but
wait
have i learned
from my last
swan dive
have i learned
that
it’s not always
true
what goes up
must fall
back
down?

so i know i will have my ups and downs…i’m just hoping a time comes when i can go up, without then plummeting down due to my issues. lately i seem to be growing, blooming, gaining insights & praises…moving in a forward movement.
which sometimes (most times) backfires into my taking a nose dive into my dark place.
so here is my hope that i can go up without melting off my wings & crashing…. right?

the inking was reminding me of the illustrations found on old school sewing patterns…hence the scissor wings.

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