in my head

sometimes
i wonder
if i have become unhinged
adrift
unglued from reality
if i am actually
buried neck deep
in snow
or sand
maybe at the bottom of the ocean
or the end of the universe
dreaming
my
life
naked in line at the bank
a double agent
a grave robber
drifting
through another time & place
while
somehow
still anchored here
collecting eggs
&
watching sunsets.

originally posted on august 26, 2018

IMG_2464

another one i am not sure about…but i re-did this one today. parts i like…parts are bugging me.
& i’m feeling physically better, but i am still an emotional stress-filled pool of muck.

lately i am liking my brush & bamboo work better than my pen.

oh! i put myself on the okcupid of the town i want to move to. i am hoping to find guys who can help me unload my moving truck when i move there. am i the only person who uses okcupid as a way to find free labor? isn’t that what dating is all about? trade of services?
(maybe this is why i am unlucky in love…my jaded approach to relationships)

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in my head

sometimes
i wonder
if i have become unhinged
adrift
unglued from reality
if i am actually
buried neck deep
in snow
or sand
maybe at the bottom of the ocean
or the end of the universe
dreaming
my
life
naked in line at the bank
a double agent
a grave robber
drifting
through another time & place
while
somehow
still anchored here
collecting eggs
&
watching sunsets.

 

beauty & the beast

i stumble.
& when i do
i look to him
to catch me
& he’s all
“oops
butterfingers!”
as i go splat
sometimes
for good measure
he kicks me
while i am down
so why
when i stumble
every time i stumble
i still expect him to catch me?
why do i still
hold that burnt out
torch
why do i still whisper
“happily ever after…”
in my head
hearing that voice
“this time…
it will be different
this time…
he really has
changed”
so much  that i have employed
another voice
just to shout at me
“hey lady!
this ain’t fucking
beauty & the beast!”

don’t mind me. just working out some angst towards the ex. you know how it is. i think i’m almost done.
it’s that happily ever after that keeps me down.
not being able to let go of the dream of a perfect family. the great american sitcom family. yeah, there’s some rough times, but in the end, we all love each other.
except…
not.
no matter how i look at it. there is no possible way that what he thinks is love, is love. love doesn’t hurt people. go ahead, argue with me about it. but if you love someone. truly love someone. can you really rationalize hurting them? much less do it on pretty much a daily basis?
but, stupid me, it has taken a long time to learn this.
a lifetime of protecting myself enough just to fall on my face again when i believe a person has changed. when i believe a person actually loves me. when i believe a person couldn’t possibly hurt me…again….
sigh.
this ain’t fucking beauty & the beast.
yes, people can change.
but only if they want to.

escaping my escapism

for the first time
in
forever
i am not looking
for someone
to rescue me
no
not like i’m some fucking damsel
in distress
though i’ve tried
i’ve never managed to convince
anyone
i am a damsel
in distress
but still
always
in the back of my head
is the thought that someone
a certain someone
not just
anyone
but my hero
on his white horse
would soon ride in
& whisk me away
from all this…
except
the thought
is
gone
i somehow
escaped
my own
escape.

i’m in brand new territory, y’all. if i was still in therapy, i would be having a “breakthrough.”¬† but it’s just you & me here…watching…waiting…wondering.
and here we are.
brand new territory.
what now?
you know what?
what happens next will happen next.

meanwhile, i have started that queer week of my every month where i am a mother with no children. i mean…they still exist, but they are in wisconsin with their dad. and i am here, waiting…watching…wondering.
is this a week where i blossom & explore…or a week where i wither & mourn? it often goes either way.
but this time…
i think it is going to be the former.
don’t tell the minions, but after i left them with their dad–i felt a certain weight had lifted, & i could breathe again. yes, i will miss them…but in the meantime, i will revel in my perceived & temporary freedom from motherhood.

in case you didn’t notice

page one of chapter one
of my tell-all memoir
art journal
i have done sylvia plath
i have done vincent van gogh
now i am going to give
anais nin
a whirl.

is this going to work? are you intrigued or are you all, “meh”? not that it matters what you think because i think we all know i’m going to draw/write whatever the fuck pops into my head whether it’s popular or not….
still….
i’m wondering…should i try to keep it as close to memoir as possible–filling in the blanks & bulking up the dialogue etc. within reason? OR–or or or–should i just go “fuck it” and add fairies & demons, squid & flying whales?
honestly, i’m leaning toward option two.

also. i am working on more moses jones.
and thinking about just doing art journals for characters instead of me.

my cogs are turning.
let’s see if we go anywhere.

edit…so i kind of fucked around with the original and made it look better–to me. you can let me know what you think. you know. if you wanna.
here’s how it looked before:

in case you didnt notice p1

i mustache you…

does this make me look silly?

i also thought of naming this one “matti-rex” because of a family joke. we know this man named matti who is somewhat flamboyant in his appearance, and one time we hadn’t seen him in awhile and when we did see him, he had a very impressive handlebar mustache. after we left him again, my minions started grabbing anything they could find to use as a mustache and proclaiming, “i am matti!”

it has, of course, become a running joke. even my three year old does it–not having any idea why he does it–just knowing it will get a laugh.

so, matti-rex.

this is one of the inkings i have done–like quite a few others–where overall i am not sure i like it, but certain elements of it really appeal to me. it’s kind of a goof-off drawing. but i did have fun with it. i mean i decided, laying in bed this morning, that the ink stain most looked like a mustache (after a few days of wondering what it was.) then i looked for the face and found a t-rex.

mattirex1

okay…i am going to name it matti-rex. because, why the fuck not?

swan princess

to say i loved fairy tales as a little girl would be a gross understatement.
i lived in my own private fairy tale.
a changeling waiting to be discovered and rescued from the trolls who were trying to raise me as one of their own.
rescue me from the evil stepmother who murdered my real & devoted mother…
fairy tales were my escape from a frightening real life.

of course, i blame my fairy tale escape route for my love of kissing frogs and marrying beasts in hopes that i can release the prince that is surely trapped inside.
oh what a horrible thing to do to our daughters, right? teaching them that that awful asshole is probably just under a curse but will one day realize what a treasure she is and love her like no one ever has.

still, i loved my fairy tale escape. and maybe it helped part of me to flower despite its setting me up for disastrous relationships….

swan1

ah fuck.

i am a fairy changeling in a troll’s world.
i am an abandoned witchling among misunderstanding mortals.
i am a princess trapped inside a snarky, nippy swan.

swan2

ha!

so i sit alone in my castle as my children have been taken to the mortal world of wisconsin to live for 10 days with a family of trolls.
but they will return to me, my magic children. and we will continue our real fairy tale of homesteading in rural illinois free from tormented princes.

10 days.
i hold my breath and wish on every star in the sky for their safe return.

 

fungus amongus

i always wonder, as i work on ink blot doodles, while i wait for misha to have her speech therapy, i always wonder if anyone walking past notices my pictures.

her speech therapy sessions are in the same grade school i went to as a child. a small protestant town. a farming town. a very straight, white community (they are getting better–more diverse!)

so i feel weird just being there. weirder working on my art. but i think most people don’t notice. and i am generally treated as if i do not have two heads. to clarify, i do not have two heads–but i often feel that that is how i appear to strangers. as a complete freak of nature.

anyhoo. today a little girl walked past me as i doodled on this inkstain.

img_3045

she said, to herself, not to me really, “what happened to that notebook?”
i answered her, “i spilled ink on it.”

when i interact with children…even my own…i have a tendency to be on their level. maybe because i have never really grown up? maybe because i feel intimidated by everyone–even your newborn child. i never approach a kids like, “i am the adult.” it’s more like, “hey, can i share your sandwich?” i always noticed how kids seem to like me, and i think it is because i make eye contact, i smile, i talk to them like they are people…because, well, they are people. when i worked in daycare, when i worked with teenagers, i never was able to be the authority figure. i was just me, hanging out with a bunch of kids. i don’t know if this is good or bad–but it is something i like about myself…so let’s call it “good.”

so when the little girl commented to herself…in surprise? in disapproval? in wonder?–about the state of my ink soaked journal. i answered her with a no frills no judgement this is what happened kind of answer.

she walked on.

also! i remembered a dream i had last night. i remembered it while i was driving today and wondering if there was car insurance on my parents’ truck which i was driving. i had talked with the insurance lady who kept calling (i hate talking on the phone and avoid it like the plague) trying to let me know that i needed insurance…but it’s my parents’ car, right? so i told her i would have them deal with it. and i called them and left it up to fate that they would actually call the insurance lady whom i was avoiding talking to….
so apparently this is weighing heavy on my conscience because last night i dreamed i was flying and in the clearing where i usually land, the insurance lady was working. so i had to acknowledge her existence as i flew in.
“did my mom call?” i asked her.
“yes,” she assured me. she did not seem surprised that i could fly. i waited for her to comment and she never did. so off i flew.

once my therapist had me write a list of good things about me. that was on the list, “i can fly.”
when exhusband#2 scoffed at that, i told him, “well, i have never tried…so i just assume i can.”
another thing i like about me.

fungus2-copy

yet something else i like about me
(isn’t this nice? this is nice, right?)
is that i find things like this in ink spills.
i like that these things live in my head to haunt and to inspire me.
i like that i can look at a blob of ink and think, “well that is clearly a tree’s ass.”

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