i know who i am now
i am silly & sad
i am fierce & fantastic
i am passionate & magical
i am a fucking unicorn
i have been reading my journals from when i was in my twenties. it is different this time than from any time before when i have looked back, even a few months or a few moods, to see what i wrote.
even in the journal i am reading the younger me complains about previous entries–dismissing herself as melodramatic & dumb.
but not this time.
this time i find myself enjoying my journals, seeing my humor & my warmth, my passion and my ridiculous amount of hope.
thinking i was a pretty cool person.
i guess my self-portrait art journal project worked.
also, my exploration of my feelings for the long-ago boyfriend who captured my heart & never let it go again.
accepting all that. accepting myself warts & all. accepting my socially bizarre attachment to someone who is no longer in my life.
all of it.
it brought something to light for me.
it brought me to light.
i totally accept me
i completely love me
& i ridiculously celebrate me.
i didn’t go to the women’s march yesterday. i thought about it. and if i still lived in madison, or somewhere where the closest march was not an hour & a half away, i would have been there. but waking up and getting four kids ready and packing food because we can’t afford to buy food. and filling water bottles. and driving. and finding parking. and herding four kids through crowds.
i let it overwhelm me.
if you read yesterday’s post, you know my mindset was not in the best place for movement.
after a day of reading facebook posts about the marches around the world, i did feel i wanted to be there. my mood lifted. seeing the solidarity. seeing the positive feelings. feeling the lift of potential darkness. glimpsing hope.
i realized one thing. i do march every day. i live my life the way i want the world to change. i truly do. i am marching every day. raising four white kids (three of whom are boys) to understand that all people are equal and all people deserve rights and respect. raising four children to honor the earth and live a low-impact lifestyle. teaching them to work with the environment to grow their own food. i can’t list everything i do right now…my mind doesn’t work like that–i will think of more later when i am doing something else. (i will eloquently explain what i am trying to express now later…in my own head…as i do yoga or dishes.)
i am marching every day. and i will continue to march. always. i will always be marching for women. for people of color. for lgbtq people. for the disabled. for the environment. for anyone who isn’t being listened to and honored. i will be marching.
as i was loading up the inkstain for this inking, i saw several different figures i did not see when i did this drawing. i kind of want to go back & do it with what i see in the ink now. that’s what i get for working while watching doctor who while minions crawl all over me.
i dunno. i’m not sure i like this one. i’m not sure what it is about. if it is about anything. are my pictures really ever about anything? or are they about everything? i draw what i see & what i feel.
but overall, i really do like my work. i really do. i was looking to see what it would look like on t-shirts & mugs…on leggings. i think my ink would be cool on leggings.
and, of course, it would look nice hanging on walls. i have mine hanging all around me. my favorites…or ones with elements that i want to use more. inspirations.
also! my nephews read my moses jones zines & now want to be part of the story. i was like, “what the hell…i can do that.” maybe that’s how i can make money. write personal graphic novels for people. ha! let people star in their own comic.
it didn’t work out so well for my exhusband #2. he wanted to be in moses jones, and that is how dusty was born. i didn’t plan to make him into a “bad guy” or “dead-beat dad” (as one comic review labeled him.) i wrote & drew what i felt, and it turned my ex into dusty knickers.
he will never forgive me for it, either.
how is that going, you ask?
though i am still struggling with doing it all on my own, i have not once regretted asking him to leave. i do not want him back. he wheedles and manipulates and tries to wiggle back in, but i am so tough i won’t even go to eat culver’s with him. yes. you heard me. i turn down free culver’s so that i do not have to interact with my ex. that, my friends, is a strength i have not felt in years.
yay for me.