gentle now

i remember those bosses
at inconsequential jobs
being mean
just to be mean
believing that being nice
being gentle
would lead to disrespectful
here i am
being mean to myself
just to be mean
i don’t deserve nice
i don’t deserve gentle
& if i am sweet
to me
i might forget
who’s the boss.

thoughts as my knee forces me to treat myself gently. see? i’m learning.

what i’m doing while i’m not doing

one project i am hoping to complete while my leg heals (4 more weeks to go before i am up & outta here) is another attempt to write a children’s book. as you see, i am playing around with characters, etc.

thoughts? concerns? positive feedback?

don’t put that in your mouth (a cautionary tale)

you ever been with a guy…not really a boyfriend…just some guy & you’re messing around with him & maybe he’s just given you some pretty lackluster oral & now he expects you to return the favor but instead of asking he just starts pushing your head towards his crotch?
and you wish you could say, “hey! motherfucker, use your words. i’m a person, not a sex toy,” but instead you just play dumb until he gets all frustrated & pitches a fit like a demented toddler, muttering “it takes two to tango” reminding me of my psychotic school bus driver….
and is there anything scarier than naked adult male anger when all you want is to feel safe & valued? don’t you just want to go back in time to protect younger, dumber you? to kick those assholes in the balls & say, “who the fuck are you to treat me like this?”

this came pouring out of me at 2am this morning when i was trying to fall asleep. twenty-four years after it happened.
why did i contact him again? why did i still think of him as a “good guy” despite my most vivid memory of him being his yelling, “it takes two to tango!” when i didn’t want to suck his cock?
why do i convince myself–why do i second guess myself–why do i tell myself it’s no big deal when it is?
like when my boyfriend punched the wall so hard he broke his hand because i wasn’t having as much sex with him as he wanted?
at least he wasn’t punching me–right?
at least he wasn’t raping me–right?
so i tolerate it? i spin it in my head. say, “he didn’t mean it. he was just ___” fill in the blank with whatever will convince you to stay when you really really should go.

i had a dream that i was in a deranged & dangerous building that has been a regular dream location. however, in this dream the other night, i knew it was the last time i would be there. hopefully the building represented toxic men.

“good night”
8X10 inking on watercolor paper


i dreamed last night that i quite easily allowed
myself to be wooed by a pretty man full of
flattery & affection. he was a teacher who
was neglecting his students & i noted this
(as one of the students) but supported his
behavior anyway. by the end of the dream
he was tossing me aside to pursue another
woman. this woman, however, saw &
was repulsed by his shallow nature & easily
rejected him. i applauded her rejection of
him & validated it while vilifying the man…
still aware of my own seemingly shallow
nature in so eagerly encouraging his
affections previously….

a waking dream a few mornings back. it had a large impact on me…made me examine who i am and what i have learned about myself–especially concerning relationships and skeezy men. maybe it loops back to yesterday’s post about knowing what i am capable of.
can i be in a relationship right now? am i healthy enough? self-aware enough?
jury’s still out on this one.

love me

i love my inner child
little me
who desires attention
& love
who marvels at the wonder
of the world
& is forever curious
i love my inner warrior
who has always
protected me
& stood up for
i love the mother
inside me
but warm
& ready with a hug
i love my inner witch
growing medicine
in the garden
& cooking blessings
& magic
into every meal
i love the fey creature
inside me
who sparkles & shines
but can also
turn dark & tricksy
i love my inner
music maker
who sings & dances
& celebrates every day
in song
i love the sage inside of me
the adventurer
the one who turns lemons
into lemonade
as well as the one
who wants
to burn this motherfucker
i love them all
without any one of them
i would not

practicing some self-love. it’s a tricky thing for me. sometimes i think i am as awesome as fuck. other times i just want to flush me down the toilet.
but…practice makes perfect.


today is a new day
is gone
because today
is a new day
even if nothing
topples into the next
tomorrow can bring

a moment of zen optimism??
in the spirit of optimism and a moment of “wow, look what i did” …i went to put my book confusion perfume and other neurotic comic (holiday gift idea!!) over on goodreads. i got an email that my listing was approved and went to check it out, only to find i have THREE books on goodreads. what? totally makes me feel like a real writer….

contact me for an autographed copy

mama belly

it’s the mama center
of my body
is that
my problem?
am i conflicted
so very
by motherhood?
that all those
ugly feelings
have found a place
in my
mama belly
so deep
in there
that even the most
yoga workout
root it out?

more on my body image issues. i cannot not wonder if my aversion to my stomach fat has something to do with my struggles to be a mom.
plus, it’s a genetic trait from my own mother.
so there is that.
but, i am working on working it all out. trying to learn to love my body & believe that someone else could love it as well.

out & about

last weekend
i went out
drank whiskey
& played darts
& pool
drank in the prettiness
of a man…
i kinda
want to go
this weekend
but is that just a
for a groundhog’s day?

referring to the bill murray movie about the man repeating the same day until he got it perfect…at one point in the movie he has a really good & spontaneous day–but then tries to re-create it the next day & it is completely false.
i did go out the following weekend, but said pretty man was not to be seen by me.
i am not sure i will go out again. i enjoy re-living days of old (to say i have spent a lot of time in bars flirting with boys would be an understatement) but maybe the tides have turned & there is no going home again….

aryan jesus is coming to town…

i was doodling during a board meeting
as i have trouble sitting still
& can actually focus better if my hand
is busy
my school notebooks are full of doodles
& i am sure
this is how i excelled as i did
with such a tendancy
to let my mind
off leash
to wander….
when i went to finish the doodle that started with
a man
& ended
a fish
i was pretty impressed
with said
wandering mind….

i have been working on turning a journal page into a finished work as requested.
after two tries, i am not completely happy (but there are many a man who will tell you that is not an uncommon state for me) 😉 & am trying to determine if i should try a third time….

one trick pony

i wonder
as a writer & an artist
i am like those
who can only play one
no matter how excellent
they may be at that
they can never move past being
that guy
i wonder
i am a one trick pony
always drawing
the same face
always writing
in the same voice.

serious anxieties here folks. could i live with having a limited range? being a bill murray instead of a denzel washington?
i see other artists who do just the one style–doing it really well–& i do not judge them for it…
so why am i so hard on myself?
(rhetorical question–i totally know why)

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