demons

my brain is congested. i feel ever so blocked right now. creatively & emotionally. everything i have written in my journal just seems dumb & badly written. maybe some of you are all like, “what’s new?” but usually i, at least, sincerely enjoy my badly versed random off-the-top-of-my-head thoughts & feelings.
but right now they are all crap.
i feel like there is so much to say–but i don’t know how to say it.
or draw it.

so i am working on some re-workings of older stuff while i stare at the blank pages of my current journal in disgust.
(i don’t hate you, art journal…it’s probably just hormones….)
this one–this one here–it is the self-portrait that got all of this nonsense started. i drew it in november of last year. i loved it. and then i just got carried away…almost a year & how may self-portraits later? (someone with a longer attention span than mine can count them–i know i have four pages up there.)
so here’s the one that started it all. a nice little picture of me hanging out with my demons.

IMG_1400

in other news….

today i heard the thompson twins’s song “hold me now” which i have sung along with in every every every relationship i have had.
& today, i realized, i have no one to sing it to.
no one.
i am undeniably alone…like i said in yesterday’s post–even in my imagination.
& then i started crying.

except of course for the single dads who are fishing for women on instagram? what’s up with that?
instagram is so weird.

and i am having nightmares like crazy. i have started having a re-occurring dream about wasps–the insects (i have daily fears of both kinds of wasps–people & insects.)
in real life, i am afraid of wasps. i have yet to be stung by one & one of my life goals is to not be stung by one.
so now i am having nightmares about wasps.
one had a wasp just hanging out on the back of my neck until my big brother (who was killed in 2008) got it off of my neck for me. my big brother has been in a lot of my dreams lately. just as him–not back from the dead–in my dreams he has never died.
then i had a dream that a wasp came & started stinging me on the arm. it didn’t hurt as much as i thought it would but i still proceeded to whack it to pieces as soon as i overcame the paralysis it somehow caused my whacking arm.

so far in my dream analysis i have:
wasp=fear (of what?)
brother’s help/whacking=overcoming fear

but that’s all i got.

last night i had the worst dream i’ve had in a long time. it was completely fucked up & i feel sick to my stomach just thinking about it.
i tried to write about it…but i can’t.

is anyone else feeling this? just curious. i know sometimes stuff like this can be cosmic.

ps. i just found a pad of 12X16 water color paper in my supplies cabinet. so–good news–i can start doing really large final copies of my art journal pages.
bad news–i will have to start using my camera again instead of the scanner i have. which means the quality of my posted art might suffer.

crap.

pss. i think my goat agatha is going to kid soon! she is all belly & her milk bag is getting full! looks like i’m going to be a grandma soon.

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embracing my failures

i’m not living in the past
i’m not living in the future
i’m in the right now
& it fucking
sucks
it fucking
hurts
like hell
but i’m present
i’m here
embracing
my failures.

i was doing “yoga with adriene” last night. the theme was “embrace.” she asked us, her youtube audience, to embrace something.
being one to often cry during yoga
being one who having a hard day has become more of a given than an exception
being one to spend too much time inside my head
try as i might
all i could come up with was, “i embrace my failures.”

then cried some more because i had nothing better to embrace…cried while i stretched & toned in an effort to stay sane & fit.

i wondered at my embracing failure. it sounded like negative to me at first. like a failure in itself. i had not found anything good to embrace…only bad.
but then i wondered if it might be a good thing to embrace my failures.
right?
what else do you do with them?
hide them?
hidden things tend to fester…at least in my experience.
so maybe my embracing my failures is a step in the right direction after all.

embrace
resolve
turn around
try again….

so while that percolates on that flame of my brain, on another burner i have this noticing of a recurrence of the number six in my daily life. i have never gotten around to studying numerology, but i do notice when the same number keeps popping up. like when the clock shows my birthday…or my brother’s death day….
being a good (though recovering) catholic, i especially notice a triplet of sixes–which recently showed up on the odometer of the car i just bought. and although i do not cross myself…i do feel an impending doom when i see it.
however, being a born again pagan, i thought to myself today, what does numerology say about the number six?

i found this on a google. six as a life path number. basically spelling out all of the character traits that i have that i do battle with on a daily basis. i mean, yes, of course i want to change the world & fight for the little guy…but why can’t i just lay in the grass & drink a beer? or be a traveler with no responsibilities, leaving when things get rough? why can’t that be who i am? why do i have to be the ultra-responsible, high morality, wanna-be savior of mankind?
does mankind even deserve being saved?
can’t i take a vacation?

no. because i have actually shaped my whole fucking world around raising four children to be different. to not be like everyone else. to creating a better tomorrow in the only way i know how. by being a good mom. a strong mom. and i can’t run away from it. i have to stick to it and keep trying no matter how much i feel like i’m failing…even though it seems like i am always failing…i just have to embrace my fucking failures, and i have to keep
fucking
trying.

wow, see that?
i came full circle.

my life, my universe, my everything

this is an ink stain creation from…when? is there a date on it? there should be a date on it, but i think i cut it off in the scanning of it and the original was used as a piece of stationary to write a letter to seymour.
of course, seymour never responds to my love notes…
maybe if i put a “do you like me back” with a box to check yes and a box to check no.
seymour does not respond to my–i don’t even know what it qualifies as–dedication? obsession? true love? stalking?
who the fuck knows? not this socially backwards chickadee.
i’m sure one of the many mental health professionals that likes to follow my blog could weigh in…but would i listen…probably not.

in other mental health news…
i thought i had popped back out of my depression. i mean, while the minions were with dusty, i was functional and not too mopey. i got things done. i did not spend all day in bed…or drinking…or drinking in bed….
but then i had to see dusty in order to fetch the minions, and that seems to have triggered a fresh depression.
yay.
i just feel so much anger towards him. so much betrayal. so much frustration & helplessness. and i can’t talk to him about it, because he finds a way to turn everything i say to him into a weapon against me.
that is some fucking talent.
so he has been paying for my internet, and we have been using his netflix account. many months, this is the only child support i see from him.
but now his contract with the internet is up, & he is cancelling that as well as his netflex (or so i hear from the minions.)
for some reason, this leaves me feeling so fucking pissed off. so fucking pissed off.
i am already super isolated in the country with four kids. i mean, i assumed his canceling the internet was a financial decision, but a friend suggested it might be for the purposes of further isolating me…and i could not find an argument to the contrary.
abusive men do like to isolate.
however, dusty has not has a job since he lost his job last january by coming down here (and staying past his welcome) when i asked him down to help with my parents. he never even told me there were issues with his job. i only found out much later that he was fired for blowing his job off to come down here.
so, yeah, it’s my fault he was fired.
but then he found another job, recently, but quit it when he thought i might let him move in here. even though i told him it was a maybe and we could talk about it. then of course i was given that big neon sign from the universe that he is still a prick & will always be a prick & what the fuck am i thinking?
but, in the couple of days where i considered it–before sobering up–he went ahead & quit his job.
did he talk to me about it first seeing as his moving to illinois was dependent on my letting him move here?
or seeing as me & the minions are directly affected by his income or lack thereof?
no…mr. “let’s talk” did not talk to me before quitting his job.
and now he likes to mention it as if it is my fault.
it’s my fault he quit his job…of course it is.

okay. rant done.

so now i am depressed again. a garden sits waiting for rain and for me to get off my sad ass to turn the soil & plant more veg. one of my bee hives died and i need to address that. the new chicken coop waits for me to build it. and, of course, sheep…goats…ducks….geese…and minions.

in conclusion, if there is a wealthy benefactor and/or someone handy on a homestead out there waiting to pop into my life, now might be the time.

next page rough draft

i was working on this last night. i felt sad doing it. i mean, it’s my way of putting dusty in the ground so he can’t hurt me anymore…but i still wish it were a different reality where i didn’t have to put dusty in the ground in order to feel safe.
sigh.
so i saw the real dusty on monday to get the minions back. i started talking about how i had a couple of local WWOOFers interested in helping out on the homestead. dusty then got really quiet & weepy-eyed. when i asked if he was okay, he said it wasn’t the right place to talk.
then he texted me today to talk.
i hate talking on phones. of course he knows this, but never makes it so we can talk in person & refuses to have written correspondances.
so i called him.
he wanted to know why i had tear streaks on my face when i came to pick up the kids. i honestly answered, “i don’t know. i am just generally sad.” which i am. not the greatest way to be, but i am. i am also generally happy. i told him, “i am sad about ways my life has gone.”
then he asked other stuff and before long we were in an argument.
he wants me to still love him & still want him.
i want to feel safe.
he is upset that i am turning to strangers for help when he is willing to help.
but his help comes with too much baggage.
and manipulation.
and emotional abuse.
i told him that he has “narcissistic tendencies.”
then when i was talking about how i have to watch what i say around him & don’t want to have to change my personality to avoid misunderstandings with him he basically said, “who’s narcissistic now?”
fuck me.
so you might understand why it is just easier to use a katana….

anyhoo.
i have started doing rough drafts because i really don’t like using pencils…even blue ones. so this is the rough for my next page.
are you excited?
i’m excited.
(and a little sad)

in case you didn’t notice…page 2

this is page two of my experimental tell-all art journal memoir.
i can’t tell if i like it or not.
it’s a good story. i would like to explore telling this story.
i’m just not sure that this is the way i want to tell it.

(here’s page one)

in case you didn't notice2

so keep on playing around with it…see what happens.

i have gotten an underwhelming amount of stuff done while my minions are gone. unless you are impressed by how many netflix shows i have binge-watched?

last night i spent between 4 and 5 hours cutting up my lambs and getting them into the freezer. i am not good at cutting meat. poor things have been butchered twice now. but it’s done!
now i need to see if i can figure out how to clean & tan a hide.
another thing i am procrastinating.
and
perfect weather…but i have not tapped my trees.

ugg.

i’m feeling a bit useless.
so much art to do. so much homesteading.
and i just want to have a beer & watch jessica jones and mope about unrequited love while ogling david tennant.

sigh.

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.”

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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.

these boots are made for stomping

there is a part of me
that will always
love you

that is
until i can search it out
& stomp it
to death.

why yes, i have been doing my yoga…why do you ask?

my minions are in wisconsin with dusty & my heart is breaking & i am promising myself to cherish them every intense moment when i have them back once more in my clutches.

i had a promising conversation with an okcupid-er but the problem was he changed his profile age from 45 to 35 sometime between my messaging him & his messaging me back. when i asked he claimed to be 35…but then i read through all of his answers to the match questions, & he repeatedly referred to himself as being in his forties in the answers (which did not even ask for an age–yet he volunteered it over & over again.) so i politely–ever so politely–asked him about it…and never heard back from him again.

online dating is beyond weird.

in other news, buttercup, one of my two ewes, gave birth last night. i went out to dump water buckets (so no ice in the morning) at sunset, & she was not in the pasture with luke but in the sheep hut. this is not like her. so i went in to check & heard a baby bleating before i even saw the lamb. she went on to  have another lamb (twins!) i checked on her throughout the night because last time she gave birth, at dusk, i left her alone and then found a dead twin in the morning. she did fine. the night was nice and dark though. cold & windy.

IMG_0558 it amazes me how a newborn sheep can seem fine with this february weather. yikes. but so far so good. they are both active & happy today.
though i feel sad that the minions weren’t here to see the lambs born.
they should be here.
they belong here.
i miss my minions.

i don’t want to be alone.