passions run high in this household we are a stormy group when the world seems most daunting we feel a pull to quest to conquer storms roil & rage inside of us when the world is calm we fret & fight amongst ourselves awaiting the next outbreak to ease our tensions we are the stormbringers loosing our turbulent selves on an unsuspecting peace.
me & my minions. so much a force to be reckoned with. i once said of my boy, iggy, “he could make a saint swear.” and now i have poppy who sometimes makes iggy look like a saint. you might think i exaggerate. if you do, i invite you to spend the weekend with us. (bring alcohol!) and in that, i have realized i am dreaming if i think i can find an intentional community that we would fit into. so…plan b? who has a plan b? um. i thought, while trying to fall asleep last night, if i had the skill to do so, i would set up a site where single parents could meet & share resources. like even finding housing together, etc. does this exist? if so, please point me in the right direction.
as the sun rises i wake up to find poppy & the puppy already awake as the chores wait i lay in bed & listen to these early morning musings by poppy as he imagines that the puppy has feet like a person insists really that he had made a potion to give people feet to puppies i love the bedtime & early morning musings of these little people who enchant my life.
just messing about. this reminded me of a poem i wrote about iggy when he was four and as we were cuddling & reading bedtime stories he told me he wanted to eat a live pigeon . if i could just do all my momming while laying about in bed.
my poem for iggy:
pirates in disguise “they’re made from recycled money,” says the woman handing out pencils at the bank. “recycled money,” i repeat. “that’s cool,” i tell him. “noooo,” he insists. “recycled bunnies. she said ‘bunnies,’ ‘cause the bones are hard like pencils.” when it is bedtime he tells me he wants to eat a chicken boil off the feathers and eat it. i remind him that he has eaten a chicken. “oh,” he says. “i mean a seagull. i want to eat a live seagull.” he asks me to dye his mohawk purple. he asks me to sharpen it when the hair on his head grows too long. he changes his clothes many times a day just like he changes his mood. he is fierce & he is powerful. only four years old; he is mighty & the world belongs to him. i know he is mine because i see the stubborn feisty rebellious warm & fuzzy miracle that he is. we cuddle together & tell each other secrets like i love him all the way to the moon & back & he loves me for all the sharks in the ocean & sometimes i feel halloween is the only time we show who we are every other day we are pirates in disguise.
it’s when you’re feeling the most self-destructive that you are least able to embrace self-care self-love self acceptance thrown under the bus when you need them most instead you burn bridges alienate friends hide under a rock avoiding your yoga guru your morning routine your brisk walk in fresh air while saying fuck fucking mindfulness in the ass while pouring another drink and re-living every horror every moment of pain or better yet burying it all deep under an avalanche of forced smiles & no, really, look how good i’m doing.
this is one where i wrote down the rough thought & then tried (tried!) to flush it our while transcribing it. also, i never wear high collared shirts because apparently they make me look like this.
in other news…
i have a 22 year old “fan” over on tumblr who is flirting with me, & it is making me oh so uncomfortable. i wonder how men who date much younger women do it. i mean, i guess they just don’t care that there is a huge gap in what you know, what you’ve experienced, how much you are actually going to get of what i say…. bleah. then my ex-husband (dusty fucker) texts me to ask if i am pregnant because we had “unprotected sex” a month ago. conveniently forgetting that i got an IUD after poppy was born. or, rather, a year & a half after poppy was born–having refrained from sex for all that time because he was being a fucking asshole. but, then, when i had the lapse of judgement of reuniting with dusty, under the condition that he be in a monogamous relationship with me, i agreed to get an IUD to prevent any further minions appearing. again, with the condition that he be monogamous. well, shocker. he lied to me, & i got an IUD while he continued to have sex with other people. strange that he would forget.
just so you know, the sex a month ago was a one time thing to get it out of my system–and it totally worked.
i have been journaling about confidence and about the undeniable fact that–though i am lonely–i am choosing to be alone. so you have that to look forward to once i get around to doing the illustrations.
i am almost finished with this commissioned piece.
i like it. it reminds me of shel silverstein (who happens to be one of my favorite male artists.) so i felt happy about that. i also love being able to get messy with my ink.
i just emailed the people who requested it & quoted a price. then vowed to myself to start doing that before i accept a job.
so there’s that.
also! i find myself, when thinking of good things to come, thinking of artwork rather than relationships. which is a big step for me. i tried to express that in my last journal page “a letter for me,” but i think maybe i didn’t say it the way i meant.
i am trying to explore these things further in my art journal, but i have just gotten started.
my minions are back from their week at their dad’s and i am struck by how i go from living in an isolation tank to living in a house full of feral monkeys. it’s quite a shock to my system.
something i should maybe start preparing myself for…other than just buying alcohol.
yesterday i heard my ten year old boy (iggy) say of my seven year old girl, “misha is running a fight club–” i did not catch the rest of the conversation. i just hid.
then while i was doing yoga for ptsd , iggy & fidgit put on a movie i got for them and then iggy was in the doorway lamenting that the movie was black & white and how could i do that to him as i know he just hates black & white….
i assured him it would turn to color as it was not a black & white movie, and i kept doing my yoga.
fidgit then appeared in the doorway after some loud scuffling. he said something about iggy attacking & injuring him but all i could think to do was ask (of the movie) “is it colored yet?”
to which he replied, “no, but it will be soon.”
“good,” i answered right before he began wailing about my not caring that his bruise would soon have color.
for some reason that communication mix up really struck me as funny. i started laughing & could not stop.
i would think i was losing my mind…but i am going to blame the yoga. yoga tends to release things for me. usually i cry. it felt nice to laugh like i did not know how to stop.
even though i probably further traumatized fidgit. (it still kind of makes me laugh though)
having art to work on
really helps that urge
to just disappear
i have started a new page of moses jones. oddly, it is very similar to some panels in the first episode. i did not do that on purpose, but it creates a nice continuity? maybe?
also! someone has commissioned work from me! well, he wanted three pieces of art, but only one of them was actually available. one is a journal page & one is a piece i am pretty sure i gave to dusty a long time back?
i am re-creating both pieces. which is both fun & daunting because i have that “don’t fuck up!” voice in my ear & 13 minions (actually four but with the combined chaos score of 13) literally bouncing off of me as i am poised with a brush full of ink trying to make a straight line. and i’m all in my head saying, “fucking michelangelo didn’t have to put up with this shit.”
maybe i should strap myself to the ceiling & do all my artwork suspended in the air.
part of the charm of my work is all the fuck-ups & messy bits, right?
the minions returned on tuesday–i drive & meet dusty half-way to wisconsin. usually we do the swap at a rest area, but dusty volunteered to meet at culver’s & have a birthday dinner for misha (for anyone not in the midwest of the u.s., culver’s is a wisconsin based hamburger chain–the only chain restaurant i willingly eat at.)
so i spent too much time with dusty for my own good–upcoming pages on that!
and i got my four wild children back for the rest of the month.
add on to that an explosion of ducklings. my muscovies enjoy hatching eggs, but then they abandon the babies leaving me to find duckling bits around the yard. if i am lucky, i find them before they are dead, but it’s about 50/50 at this point.
my brain is not able to completely come to terms with life & death on the farm & instead of staying up nights stressing about having to butcher lambs, i decided to get rid of my ram (so no more pregnant ewes) & to just have some fat, happy ewes eating grass. someone offered to buy my ram–luke (pictured above after a horn injury.) luke is a sweet ram & iggy (my child who is convinced i don’t love him–or so he says) is very attached to him. so there is a lot of drama over his leaving. we are all very sad. plus, the couple buying him wanted a ewe to go with him so they could start breeding. so we had to send our beautiful buttercup with him. which is also sad. plus buttercup left behind the other ewe & buttercup’s six month old lamb. so everyone, me–iggy–& all the sheep–have been crying since yesterday when luke & buttercup left.
good news. they are going to live on pasture of a small farm & get to have babies. the other options for sheep aren’t as nice. so i am happy they are going somewhere nice…but feel like a penniless jerk because i am unable to give them a home–forcing them into the scary move & causing all the other sheep (& iggy) to be sad.
but i keep thinking of winter & all the hay i need to buy…plus not wanting to “deal” with lambs when they get to a certain age & i can no longer put off the inevitable….
i’m just in over my head.
with four very demanding minions & a yard full of animals to take care of….
i have pages written & two more canvas ideas…plus! one night while unable to sleep–i started writing more moses jones!! i have been stalled on that since, what, april?
so i’m taking my journal with me to a car maintenance appointment & will try to get pages done/mojo plot written.
so i’m not done yet…but i am still working on it!
i really like it so far, which makes me all the more worried about fucking it up.
but i am still working on it.
i have this idea that i would like every page to be able to stand on its own. so that is another challenge.
meanwhile, i guess the minions are off to wisconsin today. dusty was going to come here to stay for a few weeks instead of the minions leaving here. but just the anticipation of his being here was turning me into an ugly unbalanced madwoman. finally, yesterday, after learning of another lie he’d told me (regarding some mutual friends) i spun out & told him he could not stay here.
he wants to move closer & wants me to help him by letting him stay here & job hunt, etc.
which, in theory, makes sense.
but in practice will chip away at my soul.
it is difficult balancing my desire to help with my knowledge of how he likes to take advantage of my desire to help.
but now instead of being angry & angry…i am just sad that i will not see my minions for a week.
and relieved that dusty is not going to be here.
it’s like he thinks we can be a happy family again, but he won’t stop being an abusive narcissist.
i no longer want to be a family with him…but i know there is no escaping his being my children’s father.
maybe that’s why i’m killing him off in my dystopian fantasy world….
when last we left off with our hero, she was slaying zombies in the forest while foraging for supplies….
actually, i started a new episode after this called “the return of dusty.” but it puttered out.
i have been trying to get it re-started…but i really don’t think i want dusty in my story anymore. i think it is time to write dusty out of the script.
which i did, last night. i have yet to draw it though.
meanwhile, the real dusty is threatening to come visit. i am torn. while i wish i lived in a world where i never had to see him or his hell-spawn of a mother again…i also hate the idea of my minions going away to wisconsin again to spend a week with him & his hell-spawn of a mother again.
it is one of those things i have severe anxiety/control issues about. i mean i became a stay-at-home mom when i realized i could not leave my child at home. instead i was taking baby fidgit with me when i went out to pick up stray animals. he was sitting in on dog evaluations with me at the humane society where i was employed when he was born.
realizing i could not leave him, i quit my job.
i know i cannot control their lives. it just seems dumb to let him take them to wisconsin when he doesn’t even know what the fuck he is doing with his life.
he is taking my minions to live in his limbo.
it just seems dumb.
so my choices are to let them go…or deal with dusty in my space.
fuck a duck.
so i am currently trying to figure out which hurts less….
in other news. i am having a crisis of faith with my art.
i guess that’s not really news….
today i tried to read a comic book & found i could not. comic books seem dumb to me now. maybe not all of them, but definitely the mainstream ones.
i tried to post my page that i made yesterday (archangel carl) on a facebook group called “women creating comics” along with my lament about my crisis of faith…but as soon as someone started suggesting things i could do to make my art more “acceptable” to the comic world, i deleted my post & almost quit the group.
what would van gogh do?
oh! i almost forgot! (thank goodness for blog titles)
so we recently entered year of the dog. i was born in the year of the dog. i looked back, and other than my 12th year, i could remember having a life changing event in every year of the dog since my birth. maybe there was one when i was 12 too–i just can’t remember for sure. in retrospect, every decision i made in my years of the dog were the wrong ones.
so this year
i am determined to get it right.
to be true to myself and to stay true to my path.
whatever it may be.
so with the first full moon of this lunar year…i am struggling to find the path that i have determined i should stick to….
wish me luck.
there is a part of me
that will always
until i can search it out
& stomp it
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.
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.
you never wanted to do this
you never wanted
to do this
you feel so lost
& you suffer that pain
as you tell yourself to hold it together
as you tell yourself to keep a happy face
all you want to do
is break things
until your voice is raw
until your eyes are dry
because you have nothing
left to give
all you want to do is sink
somehow you have to
more motherhood angst leaking from my head & onto my page.
yay! but, you know what? it keeps my head out of the oven.
misha pointed out that iggy doesn’t have a face in this on or in the previous one. i’m not sure why. subconscious–would you like to weigh in?
iggy is a very challenging child. it doesn’t help that he is the one most like his father.
the reason for a lot of my angst.
he checked out the first time i got pregnant. he was no longer the center of my universe, and he turned from mr. perfect into mr. perfect asshole.
yet somehow i still had three more children with him.
and now i am raising them alone.
because he has just become more & more perfect
at being an asshole.
being a single mom sucks ass. it truly does. but living with dusty sucks bigger ass. so while i am living the lesser of two evils–i’m still pissed off about it.