so! the little consignment art mart opened up again & since i have been trying to talk myself in to selling my art there for like six months now…i decided i should call them up and set up a time to bring my art in. as soon as i thought it, the talking heads “love for sale” began playing on my mix. you may or may not have noticed that i borrowed that title to use for the page of art for sale on this very site…. so i got out my phone & stared at it for a couple of hours…but eventually made the call…& did drop off art there on saturday. so i am officially “out there” with my art. at least in a small town in the driftless region of wisconsin…. baby steps. anyhoo! this page was inspired by that struggle.
why does it seem as if i run on angst & conflict? unable to function unless pissed off about something… anything. paralyzed by happiness &… peace? a calm center rendering me placated amid the chaos a new found balance won’t let me fall down… what do i do when i no longer feel like crying?
more explorations into my recent brush with feeling calm & centered. what the fuck is going on? but, i am writing/drawing through this & showing the world that i can indeed turn anything into something to feel anxious about.
sometimes i just don’t have words my brain idling like a car in the mcdonald’s drive thru sometimes all is quiet… content? like someone snuck in that long-awaited lobotomy sometimes i just feel uncomfortably numb like somehow i took a wrong turn & wandered away from my suburban life.
see. this is what i was talking about yesterday. my brain is just away on vacation & since i never ever take vacation…it just feels wrong. i am relaxed & calm…& it is freaking me out. like i am suspicious of feeling happy? yeah. just like that.
the free store i started is a month old now. it is packed full of goodies. so many awesome people donating.
i have only noticed one problem. all the accolades i have been receiving have triggered my impostor syndrome & sent me into some serious dark & downward spirals. weird, right? like when people tell me i’m doing a good thing, i feel like i am somehow fooling them. when one woman said, “way to pay it forward,” i flinched. of course, for me it is not about karma. it is about giving the people what they need; keeping crap out of landfills; putting one over on the man…. but am i a good person for doing it? i don’t feel like a good person… then i start to wonder…if my art took off, would i suffer in a similar way? spin out to a dark & devastated place where i fear everyone will realize i am actually a fuck up in sheep’s clothing?
however, i can’t help hoping all the spinning i have been doing will leave me standing still
so…i’m no longer living on a bus! y’all–i managed to get off the bus!
me & the minions have a house in a quaint neighborhood of a quaint town in wisconsin. and! i claimed a room as a room of my own! except for the pet rat, the dog, and being also a space for books & puzzles…i have a room that is all mine for writing & drawing & just staring out the window! so that’s nice. but i have flunked out of therapy…not before reprising my list of ideals for a romantic relationship, however. next on my list of “what i want”…that guy who won’t make me feel like crap.
& then, also on the list of things i desire (after a roof & a man) is a job doing what i actually want to be doing. i am working outside the home for the first time in forever….but the honeymoon is over on the new job. now i just want to sit at home & draw…and write…and go for walks & on bike rides…garden a bit…travel…. sigh.
though i forgot about INKtober, as sarah of fresh hell pointed out to me, every day is kinda inktober for me. actually, ever since INKtober 2016, i have been covered in ink. it’s a bit scary how much i have drawn in these last three years. i should have a book…or something. but, no, i am not exactly rolling with the punches…. i feel like a complete failure as my patreon page whispers softly to me, “my god you suck….” & in other areas of life, mother–(crap…am i anything other than a mother???) i am also sucking suckiness. if you want to confirm this for me (my failure as artist, writer, & mother) feel free to check out my patreon page.
so there is my way past due update, dear reader…
ps. i do not have internet (but would accept it as a gift) so any online postings are sporadic at best
i’m on the email list apparently for my old co-op & keep getting emails about the upcoming reunion fuck me i want to burn that place to the ground i moved in there full of hope i escaped there a jaded & broken person people are liars. people don’t even know they are liars. but they are liars. they lie to themselves. they lie to you. they lie to me. they pretend they want social justice they pretend they want to make the world a better place they pretend they care about you they are motherfucking hypocrites….
the carpet folks who saved my mom’s basement (where i live) have not been paid i contacted my siblings before calling in help with the flooded basement everyone told me to go ahead call in professionals the professionals came…did their job well…and saved the carpet & wood siding now no one is paying them i don’t have the money my mom does my siblings do not me in my stupid stupidity moving here so my siblings could forget about this place now my heart hurts for a carpet company who was unintentionally scammed by me it seems am i a liar? if i knew then, what i know now i would have let this place sink into the mud.
in one week i will rent a u-haul & go in a general direction i have no destination just a general direction hoping beyond hope i will somehow land on my feet once more.
my first boyfriend wore face powder & lip gloss (i still remember the smell of kissing him) his hair was longer than mine but once i shaved off all my hair every one of my boys had hair longer than mine because i so loved the girly boys with their long slender fingers & their long batting eyelashes every once in awhile i dated a chiseled-chin dimpled cheeks covered in manly stubble all the more fun to dress them in lacy lingerie.
this poem was inspired by a completely harmless innocent tiny little crush on my gender fluid editor-to-be…because i wouldn’t be me if i didn’t develop inappropriately intimate feelings for someone i am to be working with….
meanwhile, the ryan renolds movie marathon continues. (i watched the nines last night & loved it. i am pretty sure i am also a nine & that i have created y’all) i bet ryan renolds would look hot as fuck dressed in “women’s” clothes….
in other news, i am having dizzy spells & my head feels weird…so i’m pretty sure i have a tumor. here is a conundrum…how does a hypochondriac know when they are actually sick? my anxiety manifests as physical symptoms…but what if i really am sick & just dismissing it as stress-induced?…(see how that can spin out fast?)
also, my lawn really really is supposed to be mowed by conventional standards, but i have a hard time thinking about mowing down all those innocent flowers. if it weren’t for ticks & mosquitoes, i would totally have a wild as fuck lawn.