my spring garden
my spring garden keeps me from getting any art done
i am so tired by the end of every day
it feels like i never sit still
i go to do one thing,
and i do three other things on my way
they have to be done.
so my inkings are few & far between as i am overwhelmed with garden, livestock, a yard to tend, a house to keep clean-ish, four kids to feed & care for….
spring is a busy time.
now i have to focus all my art on finishing a project
i agreed to illustrate
i am excited about it. yet my sketchbook eludes me.
i think about working on it all the time
but i need to sit & actually put pen to paper.
i need to be sketching the characters ever day
to get familiar with their faces…
i also need to learn to cultivate mushrooms, grow herbs for health, become more confidant about checking my bee hives, build a bigger house for my ever expanding poultry, and learn more about goats (i’m getting goats next!)
with four kids
is just non-stop
& all the chaos
& my unamused
what keeps me busy, inspires me. what inspires me, keeps me busy.
on the bullfrog song homestead with me:
7 muscovy ducksings
and one ex-husband.
i welcome most of these things. okay, all but the ex-husband. i have realized beyond a shadow of a doubt that i do not want to live with him.
whether he’s good or bad, i do not want to live with him.
i want to get on with my life.
and he is not my future.
i do not love him.
days & days
of staring at an inkstain
drawing a line here
squinting to see the shapes
in shadows & smudges & splatters
putting up beehives
eleven days into april
just one inking,
but so much work
i’m exhausted. but i finally finally finished this. there were several times when i thought i was done…but then the light would hit it just right & i would see another face…another creature…more magic.
i am having trouble focusing on my artwork. it shouldn’t take me eleven days to do an inking. or should it? i am distracted. with spring and all the work of a budding homestead.
but, also, with dusty around, the little voices whisper to me that he thinks i am wasting my time.that he thinks i am neglecting the minions. that he thinks i am being silly–thinking my art is a worthwhile endeavor. that i should be doing something else–something worthwhile.
when dusty is nearby, it echoes of my childhood & when my dad would enter a room, i feel like i have to look busy…i feel like my artwork is not real work.
i could very well be projecting this.
or i could very well be sensing it from him.
he has made snide comments in the past.
some days i think i can keep dusty in my life.
i am trying really hard to be nice to him
to see if that changes how he treats me…
…but most the time, he is still a turd.
i have a wicked head cold.
which might be responsible for this inking & its title.
which may have been a psychosomatic response to my letting dusty move back in.
i can barely breathe.
i can barely think.
my functionality is pretty limited.
it might be a defense mechanism of mine.
i was once sick for a month straight in one doomed relationship.
i can’t remember which one.
it’s like my body says, “this is bullshit.”
and shuts down.
my immune system gives up on me.
or thinks, “maybe this will get her attention.”
how many times can i fuck up in the exact same way?
maybe that should be the title of my memoirs….
the wild and the tame
always fight for a balance
my anger and my calm
always seem at odds
the crazy and the sane
in my life
are a constant confusion
which do i embrace?
which do i change?
who am i today?
i don’t feel like talking about anything in therapy today, y’all. so i’m just going to post my picture.
i’m in kind of a “meh” mood about my art.
maybe i should work on a different project for awhile.
or an illustration gig for a friend.
maybe make a zine.
or work on a new page of moses jones: apocalyptic mama. right? who remembers mojo? who misses mojo? i miss her sometimes.
speaking of…things have taken a weird turn with the dusty knickers of my life…okay…not so weird, if you are familiar with our on-again/off-again relationship which showed up in my comic as his disappearing every time moses got pregnant. my dusty never left me–in the physical sense, but did pull away emotionally. and behaved self-destructively. and was incredibly manipulative.
and i swore it was done and that i would never ever ever ever ever take him back again (i have broken up with him–maybe as many as seven times?–and he has inched his way back in, waiting until i am vulnerable….)
but i invited him back in, again, on a trial basis. and it is really nice to have him back. i am well aware that this is the “honeymoon” period…but–as cautious as i am, it is nice to have him back.
so…can people change?
he had some life-changing stuff happen. he realized a lot of things about himself and how his relationship with his mom shaped his self-destruction, lying, and manipulative behaviors. and now…he is behaving in a healthy way that i have never seen from him. like…communicating…like…having conversations & being human.
and even though i am lonely and desperate for company and tired of doing this alone…i don’t think i am vulnerable. i mean, i know i can do it alone if i have to.
but i don’t want to.
but i know that i can. and i am willing to do it alone rather than be in a fucked up relationship.
i guess we’ll see what happens.
i don’t have the best track record for making good decisions about men & relationships.
but…people can change…i mean, i have changed. i really have.
and you know what? i threw him out. i did it. i can do it again. i know i can. i know i am stronger now. more sure of myself.
he knows it, too.
except i’m not going to tell a story
not this time
things in my life
stranger than fiction
as they say
and i try to find the corner pieces
so i can put this puzzle together…
or should i just drop it on the floor?
say, “fuck it”
and walk away?
i can tell you this: i love doing my art. i love it. it is the best part of me sometimes. i love looking and finding and drawing out the image that may or may not be just in my head. if nothing else in my life makes sense…my weird-ass whimsical inkings do.
so that should tell you something.
i think i am going to put a few of them on mat board and try to have a show.
i think i am going to send a few of them off to publications and see if anyone bites.
i think i am going to rely on my art to give my life some sort of meaning when every other avenue is confused.