a slightly tilted me

something about me is off
a shifting
my magic is askew
yesterday
i was ignored by a librarian
& rebuffed by a mechanic
normally
strangers are strangely nice to me
yesterday…not so much
yesterday i forgot & left the lid
off of one of my temperamental pens
so intent i was on doing battle against
naughty cats
& my pen dried out
& my other pen wouldn’t work
& i felt as if my hands were cut off
yesterday i kept trying to continue a conversation
that i don’t know why i’m having it
but i keep trying to connect
where maybe there is no connection
maybe i am a solitary
witch
& maybe i mess it up
by fighting it
by always fighting
my life & ways….

i recently ordered a new copy of everyday magic & gave my old copy to my son. i ordered a used copy of it and when it arrived there were post-it notes marking all of the love spells. it’s weird. you would think that whoever brought in the used books would have removed all of these post-its. they are sticking out of the book all over the place…. i felt sad for the previous owner of the book. so desperate to find love…and apparently she gave up.
then i started to wonder. maybe the post-its are for me? maybe i was sent a book full of love spells for a reason? maybe i am doing this all wrong? my life….

i feel like i am doing everything all wrong lately.
trying to online date. exposing myself to the callousness of strangers. making myself too too too vulnerable.
trying to connect with people on facebook (yes, i am back on facebook because i am trying to promote mistress of mud–a lovely lovely book i illustrated)
however, i joined a women homesteaders group recently on facebook. because, well, i’m a woman. i homestead. i am desperate for community. and then i’m over-connecting. it’s weird. this fine line for me. wanting to connect…but not wanting so much exposure. wanting to be noticed while i stay safely invisible.
commenting & posting, i feel over-connected.
exposed.
and i start to wonder if i should just say “fuck it” & get off of this over-connected mass of loneliness we call the internet. live in real time.
(but here i am…blogging about it instead)

and i was contacted by a guy on okcupid. it went against two of my rules for me to contact him back. his profile picture (& only one) was of him shirtless in bed. my “eww” rule. also, he had barely written anything on his profile & he had only answered the minimum of match questions. so i couldn’t do my “deal breaker” look-see in his match questions. like guys who don’t believe in evolution…or racist/sexist guys…or anti-feminism guys. that sort of thing. oh! guys who think you should never be comfortable farting around each other. what the what?
so i broke my rules to contact him back. why? he’s a redhead. something in the way he looks in what may or may not be his real profile picture.
so i message him to see what he wants.
he says he would “love” a conversation.
so i try to start one…& he won’t let me. every time i try to start a conversation, he responds in the bare minimum of words possible.

i think he might be an alien.

so that up thar is a picture of my first black lamb with her daddy. i always wanted a black lamb. ever since i was a little girl named “mary.”

IMG_0577

here is her twin with his mama.
lambs are so cute.
i look at them & think, “how am i supposed to eat you?”
like i’m the big bad wolf.

so i need to figure out what is askew in my energy. too much alcohol while the minions are away? over-exposing my solitary witchy ways to the world at large via internet? still not being able to embrace chaos though i have cats & kids & goats eager to be my companions on that path? running away from myself?
am i running away from myself?
who am i?
who am i?
what do i want?

fuck a duck.

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all of me

i just wanted
to see
if i could fill up a page
with me.

(i like this one–i don’t always like my self-portraits–but i really really like this one)

i am feeling a bit overwhelmed by the online dating. trying not to become jaded with all the ickiness of it…but still keeping it as a viable option for having (at the very least) a conversation.
however
much like grade school
no one i’ve liked has liked me back.
so i fill up a page with me.
here i am!

don’t forget! if you love (or even just like it) my art, you can now buy a book that i illustrated: mistress of mud

succubus

i’m so tired
of these feelings of desperation
these terrible
needs
for connection
what is real?
what is longing?
& what is just a big chasm
something intrinsically wrong
with me?
a hole in me
a black succubus of love
any warm body
will do.

the gathering

so y’all remember when i became obsessed with lynda barry and tried to get her to be my friend?
no?
well, do you remember when i became obsessed with amanda palmer and tried to get her to be my friend?
fine…nevermind.
so i’m reading jenny lawson’s book¬†furiously happy¬†and i’m trying really hard not to message her or anything because i really don’t think i can take more rejection right now. i tried to comment on her blog…and the comment never showed up. so now i’m wondering if she just deleted it for being irrelevant? or i fucked up posting it? but i can’t risk trying again because…you know…the rejection part.
maybe if i had had more than just imaginary friends as a kid.
and as a grown-up.
i’m probably fucking up my kids by homeschooling them & not being enough of an extrovert to get them out to meet other kids and now they will someday stalk celebrities that they feel a false sense of connection with….

wait.
that was not where i was going with this.
so i’m reading her book….
i just lost my train of thought because poppy will not use the toilet on his own–he is completely capable–but will not do it. if i don’t take him, he screams at me until i do…then if i forget & wander off without carrying him back to where we started, he screams until i do. yesterday he broke a mirror because i didn’t carry him from the bathroom when he was done peeing…but that’s not where i was going with this either.
but it kind of was.
i cannot handle my life.
i fucked up by trying to have a life.
i cannot handle my dogs.
my kids.
my house.
my yard.
my chickens.
my sheep have overgrown toenails that apparently it is up to me to trim and i just don’t want to do it. i just don’t. i don’t want to do any of it. i want to quit.
quit.
quit.
quit.
but that’s not really an option. is it? i mean, i could sylvia plath…or kramer vs. kramer…but those options have a lot of terrifying consequences.

there it is!
so i am reading her book, and i am confused by her husband. first he seems like a pain in the ass. but she seems to really like him? i keep thinking of him as being played by colin firth and was going to message her that…but, you know, rejection.
so!
then i realize, he is like the voice of sanity in her life. he is her port of safety. then i think, i would really like someone like that in my life. you know, instead of always being in relationships with men who are looking for mothers & try to make me the sane one–the responsible one–the grown-up.
i’m not.
and all these years of having to pretend to know what i’m doing…
it has done it’s damage.
so i need jenny lawson’s victor.
except…i don’t think i could find a sane man (or woman) who would love me & take care of me and that would be asking a lot since i also want that person to help around the house…so i realized that i have to hire someone to be my port of safety.
i need a companion.
a nurse.
a personal assistant.
someone who can talk me in off the ledge.
and buy me ice cream.
i have to hire someone to fill this position. but i have no money. so i have to sell my art to make money to hire someone to take care of me.
that is my new plan.

(crap, looking at the original ink stain, i think i could have done more with this…but my brain feels like a bag of broken glass…so….)

inkstains-5