letting go….

on screen ninja fights
zombies swords flash save the world…
meanwhile, life wasted

i’ve been spending my day sorting through files & files of stories. some are just a couple of words, an idea. some are complete & surprisingly well written stories. i have found that a lot of my stories have a similar voice. i am taking those snippets and adding them to a novel i am working on with the same voice.
threading it all together.
i am also posting some of them over on my patreon site & considering some for possible publication?
this haiku was in the middle of a file full of short stories/flash fiction i had written back in a time i used to submit to the site Helium all the time.

i am pretty sure it is about my ex-husband & my feelings about his video game addiction.
pretty sure.
& this was not the only written piece i found obsessing about my ex-husband & the wrongs he did to me.

which brings me to my tarot card reading for the beltane new moon. a lot of good stuff in this reading.
but the bad stuff…not letting go. the moon crossing me warns about it…so does the card in my “near future” position of the spread.
so i wonder. what is it that i am not letting go of? all i can think of is this anger i still have toward my ex-husband.
how do i let go?
i truly want to.

some time later…

okay, so! i was quietly obsessing about all the stuff i should be doing here at my mom’s house as squatter/care-taker, when i thought, “maybe that’s it…maybe i am stuck here–actually stuck at this place.” worrying about the lawn, the wet basement, and then reminding myself, “it’s not my goddamned property, monkey-boy!” (buckaroo banzai)…. my mom called me the other day about the basement & spent the entire call bitching about my sister who is trying her best to care for my mom. my mom said, “she was never my favorite.”
what the fuck, mom?
she also bitched about dad dying & leaving her to deal with this house & property that she wanted to sell years ago. i kind of agree that that was a shitty thing to do.
the next day, as i was attempting to meditate (meditation is surprisingly difficult for my loud brain to do,) my phone rang with “pure evil” coming up on the screen. so i kept on trying to meditate, but got a sick feeling in my stomach. my mom left a message, but before i could check the message, i checked my email where my sister (or brother-in-law as they share an email) emailed me to say, “don’t answer the phone!”
so i deleted the message from my mom without listening to it.

long story short, my mom doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me & i know damn well that i was never her favorite either.
she only calls me on occasion when no one else will listen to her.
so why am i stressing out trying to care for a place that is not mine for a woman who can’t stand me?
i am free to leave.
but it’s not easy leaving a place where i don’t have to worry about rent & utilities & keeping a roof over my four minions’ heads….
have i sold my soul for a free place to live? it kind of feels that way.
it kind of feels like that scene in labyrinth where sarah is in her “bedroom” & has forgotten her quest because she is surrounded by superficially comforting “things.”
or, as i wrote a couple days ago, it feels like “hotel california.”
i have often compared this experience to the shining as well….
and there in my tarot spread, you can see. i am stuck in “opposition” while change is my conflict card.

change should not be a conflict for me. i love change.

so i have chosen a third town as a possible new home. i was going to road trip there tomorrow, but the forecast calls for storms & rain today & the two days after.
i am stuck.
the basement might flood again if i am not here.
but how long can this go on?
i tried to mow the lawn today, and the mower died. am i going to hire someone to repair it? or someone to mow these acres of grass?
or am i just going to walk away?

i want to just walk away.
i really truly do.
so why do i feel so stuck?

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blackbird man

my shadow man
my thing of nightmares
my samhain visitor
i give you my heart
but you want my soul
i fight for my life
while accepting my death
my birdman lover
i am your
lonely
plaything
a half-dead
essence
a half-living
carcass
not knowing
whether to welcome you
or to fear you
if i should
hold you
or
let you go.

i keep thinking about this dream i had. it felt very strong. my subconscious loves to talk to me through my dreams. this seemed like a message.
especially as it came the night of the witch’s new year.
the time of year when the veil between the living & the dead is at its most flimsy.

i think it has everything to do with relationships. with myself. with men. with the world around me.

i do not remember an ankh in the dream, but for some reason i feel compelled to put the egyptian key of life in the inkings i have done about my dream.

i want to play with it more.
both as a message for me to heed as well as a potential story.

hmmm…my blackbird man….

also, this is the last page of my current journal. i have now done almost three hundred self-portraits since last october.
i made one page for all of my art journal self-portraits in my attempt to stream-line my art & website.
i hope my site is looking better & making sense.

tomorrow–a new day & a new journal!

 

out of desperation

The literati mafia

i had a dream
which spoke to me
dream me said to dream you
we did not come together out of desire…
but out of desperation
i had
had so so many relationships
you had
had none at all
locking yourself away
from everyone
both of us
desperate for love
desperate to be loved
you saw
that i was desperate enough
to love you
not desire
but desperation
when one of us
would become desperate to leave
the other would become
desperate to hold on
& we did this dance
we did this dance…
if only we could have stepped away
for a clear thought
to see
we would not have chosen each other
at all
if not for desperation…
there is no truth
in our desire
only desperation.

© quixotic mama 2018
for more art & writings by me visit quixotic mama
the image is my own,  done with…

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birthday drawing

once upon a time
my birthday was one of my three
favorite holidays
once upon a time
i would count down
from like six months away
telling an unwilling audience
every
day
how many days it was until my birthday
i never had a party
(tried once & nobody came)
i just would spend the day basking
In the glory of a day
that was mine…
then i married a man
who refused to celebrate me
then i had kid after kid after kid
and realized
no matter what day it was
i still was expected to be a mom
then my brother died
and i no longer got my birthday call
from  him
asking, “so what else is new,”
and actually listening to what i said….
once upon a time
my birthday was a glorious day
for me…
i want to find that girl again
she was damaged…but not as scarred as who i am
today
i want to find that birthday girl
and i want to celebrate her
anyway

i feel better today. back on my journey to healing. i feel better–stronger–more able to tackle life.
i wish my birthday didn’t knock me down like it does. i hope i can somehow recover my old sweet love for my birthday.
it is a journey…healing…and sometimes i wander off the path and into a patch of poison ivy….

my minions were sweet to me. iggy wrapped up a dozen rocks & shells to give me. fidgit drew me this awesome picture. misha made an elaborate show of hiding “barbie” dolls & stuffed animals for me to uncover for my birthday. my minions are awesome creatures…even poppy who is three but one day won’t be anymore (please god!)

so i survived another birthday and am back on my journey to being a better me.

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