best & worst

1995
lexington kentucky
flying balsa wood planes
in the park
with the man
i was engaged to
the man
i was going to spend the rest of my life
with
1996
austin texas
getting an expensive long-coveted gift
of white wing tip doc martins
from the man
who was about to leave me
as i had left him
already
for someone else
…funny thing
that is the last valentine’s day
i can remember
i remember the best
& i remember the worst that followed it
…nothing
more.

guess what i was doing for valentines? i wasn’t crying all day, i promise. i did try & try to remember any other valentine’s day. i dated someone for two years after this relationship mentioned here. then i married someone & spent several valentine’s days with him. then i married someone else & spent more than a decade of valentine’s days with him.
jesus.
in my defense, none of the guys who followed the best & the worst valentine of mine, none of those guys were very good at being sweet to me.
the last guy to be sweet to me gave me a pair of white doc martin wing tips & then broke my heart.
no matter how many valentines i make & give to people, i cannot quite heal that wound.

uncross my heart

i remove the conflict
i uncross
my heart
i life my arms
into the air
waiting
for that inevitable
embrace
that never comes
& the sun
sets
the moon moves
across the sky
in her dance with the
stars
& all i can feel is
lost.

i wrote this page in response to my tarot cards that keep having the idea of relationships & men as a conflict to who i am. i thought i could remove the conflict…but i could not.
so!
i am calling off the hunt. fuck it. i’m okay alone. right?
i am so totally okay alone.
i have so much crap to sort out. i mean, am i even over my exes? why can thoughts of them still break my heart? do i really need to pile anything on to that crap pile?
also. who do i even want in my life? when i imagine someone to grow old(er) with, who is it i really want? why does that change from day to day, moment to moment?
and should i even be trusted to pick someone? or let someone pick me? i do not have a good track record.
so maybe i am not ready. maybe it’s all a pipe dream.

i can always fall in love in my next life.

(funny story. while i was inking this, iggy came in to tell on poppy for flipping him the bird…looked at my inking & was like, “nice, mom!”)

blast from the past

i don’t know why
men treat me this way
i don’t know what i’ve done
to deserve such cruelty
& apathy
i struggle to believe
i’m lovable
i struggle to believe
i’m a good person
yet somehow
i only get used
& tossed aside
i see these people
other people
happy & loving relationships
& i wonder
what’s wrong with me?
so i say to you
pretty boy
don’t worry
everyone kicks me
when i’m down…
it was probably
just your
turn.

another snippet from a 20 year old journal. it was written in prose form, but if i had written it today, i would have written it like this.
it reminds me of one or two of my pages of my the invisible exhibitionist. that last bit.

i’m hoping i have evolved past this lovelorn puddle of me…but if i happen into another relationship…will she return?

my hardest day

the anti-versary of his death
is my hardest day every year
but it’s not
just
the void of losing
a big brother
it also happens to be the birthday
of the one who
tore out my heart
leaving it to dry
& wither
memories blowing past
like the leaves
dead
&
brown
my brother died…
you know how there comes that time
when you need someone more than ever
& they
fail you?
betray
you?
instead of holding you
& saying everything will be alright
they
take the opportunity
to hurt you even more?
true colors…right?
in the difficult times
we see their true colors
my brother died
on my husband’s birthday
& my husband
never forgave me for that.
so this day
every year
i mourn
the loss of my brother
&
the loss of the greatest love of my life
who
as it turns out
wasn’t so great…
but try telling my heart that.

the two things are hopelessly
interwoven
my brother’s death
my husband’s betrayal
i miss both of them many days
of the year
but this is by far
my hardest day.

the self-portrait above was done for an art class. the assignment was to do a pair of self-portraits (i think there is an art term for two pieces that are meant to be displayed together–who can remind me what that is?)
both of the self-portraits echo back to the last post i did “my m” in that they celebrate my brother’s & my love of movies and
terminator to be exact. with a good dose of catholicism.
here is my ode to sarah connor:

hey, who left my heart open?

my heart is wide open
maybe too
open?
i can feel love everywhere
blowing in the
wind
i sniff around
smelling the heat of it
in the air around me
my heart
is wide open
an uncomfortable
but not
unwelcome
sensation
i wonder if i should
lock it away
again
i wonder if i even
remember
how to.

so this has been going on for awhile. each new connection with a person excites me. like falling in love. like my heart is that thing they have in submarines checking around for shapes in the water & going “blip” when it hits something.

that’s poetic, right?

blip goes my heart screen when it senses someone…a kindred spirit.
blip.

i’m not sure what to do about it. do i let it keep searching? should i keep getting excited with each possible spotting? with each blip of my heart?

i’m having no luck on the internet dating. i know it’s been all of–what? three days? i am just going to think of it as setting out the bait & checking back if i hear something go snap.

or blip

instead of obsessively checking it & reading profiles and answering 10,000 personality questions in hopes of finding that perfect match.
my profile is up.
i will either get a bite or i won’t.
plus, i think i have either terrible luck or choose the wrong guys. so i am trying to see who chooses me. i have messaged a couple…no reply.
i know i’m pretty. i know i’m smart…i also know i am irretrievably strange. so maybe there will be no takers?

blip

in other news:

1.)  agatha…& maybe quixote, have figured out how to get over/past/around the new fence if they feel compelled to do so.
goats are a pain in the ass…but, like my minions, i would not trade them. i love my goats as much as they piss me off sometimes.
i am going to put a permanent pasture up where i have the temporary fence as i have the woven fence in a place where i cannot properly electrify it.
do i ask dusty for help? or do we learn how to do these things without him?

2.)  i spend an extraordinary amount of time & energy every day getting my four year old into costume. he wakes up before the sun with a costume in his hand demanding my assistance. lately it is a full body ninja outfit which means he then needs my help to take it off when he has to pee. then back on again. then off when he decides he is no longer a ninja. then back on again.
seriously. i am going to lose my fucking mind.
again. i love my minions…but this one won’t take “no” for an answer, and i can only tolerate about an hour of shrieking before i give in.

3.)  so what’s the deal with freckle haters? (speaking of answering 10,000 personality questions) what do people have against freckles? i have answered at least two questions about whether or not i like freckles & how my potential partner should feel about freckles. what the fuck, y’all? what is not to like about freckles?
to quote my mother, “freckles are kisses from the sun.”
y’all should be so lucky to date a freckled goddess.

4.)  and i had to break down & buy some beer. hops. hops calm me down.
i had to fucking calm down.

5.)  i totally drew a picture to go with this journal entry…but i am still out of sorts & it is totally affecting my art. so i am not posting the picture because it super sucks enough that i am unwilling to share it. is that a first? that might be a first. i think i am going to watch lovesick on netflix & try to doodle out of my funk.

fine, i quit.

i know there is absolutely no point to posting this, but i am quitting social media. since no one actually responds to my art…
and since it breaks my heart so terribly & painfully to be ignored…
i have no choice but to quit social media.

i will keep making art.

but all by my lonesome.

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