random thoughts…my daughter

when i became pregnant for the first time,
i was dismayed to learn it was a boy.
“i don’t know anything about boys!” i thought.
then i had another boy.
and finally i was pregnant with my girl
realizing
“i don’t know anything about girls either!”
i used to call myself–gender confused.
this was in the early 90s before gender
was much discussed.
but i knew from the time i was five
i had both in me–boy & girl.
yet
somehow
i also had neither…
only to realize this when i became a mother
to boys & a girl.
so like everything else, i winged it
i just raised them as people
people i respected & loved
people free to develop into whomever
they were born to be.
i remember when fidgit started playing with
trucks & guns
“i guess he is a boy,” i said,
maybe stereotyping a bit
but later, he grew his hair long
got his ears pierced
and started studying art.
still a boy, i could think.
but my girl…
my girl…
she is a girl like i was never a girl
and i want to celebrate that.
i do.
but i cried today as i shopped for her
seventh birthday present
a children’s play make-up kit
really?
but i know it will make her happy
just like every time i bought a play sword for my crazy boys
& their dad looked at me like, “really?”
here’s the thing
i want my kids to be happy
i want them to be who they are
even if it is not who i am….
that’s the tricky part about being a parent, i guess…
one of the tricky parts anyway.

the photo is me in my early 20’s. fighting gender norms has always been very important to me–especially since as a teenager i found i was more comfortable in my dad’s clothes than i was in mine. i have never worn make-up (except on halloween) & i do not own a pair of heels. but now i have a daughter who drools over thrift-store pumps & uses an art marker to apply lipstick…which some people do. some people like pumps & make-up…i’ve just never been one of them. so maybe it stings a little that my little apple is falling rolling away from the tree? but if it is who she is & will make her happy….

sigh.

heaven help me if she decides to start shaving her legs.

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if you’re gone

he was my muse
my favorite thing to draw
the only face
i wanted to see
he was my burden
my obstruction
the thing i ran away from
every other day
he was my savior
the only one who ever believed in me
he was my daily reminder
that one day i would lose
everything
everything that ever mattered
i only wanted him
after i had thrown him away
i only let myself love him
after i had lost him.

i don’t know what year this journal entry was from…maybe 1994? 1995? the poem(ish) is from today because every song is reminding me of him…again.

stepping back to move forward

okay.
i have quit facebook…again.
here’s the thing. i feel like my desire to connect & form a community is hindered by the mentality of social media.
does that make sense?
so i’m quitting the number one social media site in an attempt to form actual authentic connections.
or that is how it is playing in my head.

sharing my art on facebook to a lukewarm response from most of the people i know in the world (i do have some friends who are awesome & supportive…but very few) always made me sad. but when i share it on tumblr & get a response from the handful of people who follow me–it’s exciting because barely anyone knows i’m even there.
yup, lower them expectations for a delightful surprise.

& without the distractions & easy access to stuff on facebook, i will actually have to reach out more & dig around more–thereby discovering more stuff (information, opportunities, etc.)

that’s what i’m thinking anyway.

so i’m reaching out & connecting more…by disconnecting.

that makes sense right?

one more thing. can anyone tell me–should i do a patreon account? will people give me money to create in exchange for virtual hugs & homemade postcards?
thoughts?
experiences?

what would vincent do?

in efforts to stay true to my art
& to myself
i have adopted the mantra
“what would van gogh do?”
…now i find myself wanting
to have drunken fights with other artists
losing body parts
& giving them away
to ones i love.

fuck mainstream comics. fuck “real” art. fuck convention. fuck fitting in. fuck it all. i am what i am.

i want to go back to a more raw appearance for moses jones. back to when she was just a prototype

mjversus2.png

back before i was trying to make her look like the world tells me she is supposed to look. i want my mojo to be rough & raw & ready to fight zombies.

ps. this was the last page of my journal. year of the dog, y’all. new things to come!

finished journal