in my head

sometimes
i wonder
if i have become unhinged
adrift
unglued from reality
if i am actually
buried neck deep
in snow
or sand
maybe at the bottom of the ocean
or the end of the universe
dreaming
my
life
naked in line at the bank
a double agent
a grave robber
drifting
through another time & place
while
somehow
still anchored here
collecting eggs
&
watching sunsets.

originally posted on august 26, 2018

IMG_2464

another one i am not sure about…but i re-did this one today. parts i like…parts are bugging me.
& i’m feeling physically better, but i am still an emotional stress-filled pool of muck.

lately i am liking my brush & bamboo work better than my pen.

oh! i put myself on the okcupid of the town i want to move to. i am hoping to find guys who can help me unload my moving truck when i move there. am i the only person who uses okcupid as a way to find free labor? isn’t that what dating is all about? trade of services?
(maybe this is why i am unlucky in love…my jaded approach to relationships)

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home sweet prison

i have created
a life
i want to escape from
i built
my own prison
just so i would have a reason
to tunnel
to file & chip away
to avoid
reality
by any means
necessary
i have done this
i want to guess
on purpose?
…but
why?
my life is the rat on the wheel
running
& running
but going
nowhere
a life
fashioned
for escape
but no
actual
escape.

i just don’t even know what to do with me anymore. today is a wash. what the fuck, emje?
ack!
it’s like–sure, i can see what’s wrong with me…but i have no fucking idea how to fix it. i’m just like in my head saying, “you’re just going to fuck this up too, you know.”
that’s me. that’s my life.

in my head

sometimes
i wonder
if i have become unhinged
adrift
unglued from reality
if i am actually
buried neck deep
in snow
or sand
maybe at the bottom of the ocean
or the end of the universe
dreaming
my
life
naked in line at the bank
a double agent
a grave robber
drifting
through another time & place
while
somehow
still anchored here
collecting eggs
&
watching sunsets.

 

beauty & the beast

i stumble.
& when i do
i look to him
to catch me
& he’s all
“oops
butterfingers!”
as i go splat
sometimes
for good measure
he kicks me
while i am down
so why
when i stumble
every time i stumble
i still expect him to catch me?
why do i still
hold that burnt out
torch
why do i still whisper
“happily ever after…”
in my head
hearing that voice
“this time…
it will be different
this time…
he really has
changed”
so much  that i have employed
another voice
just to shout at me
“hey lady!
this ain’t fucking
beauty & the beast!”

don’t mind me. just working out some angst towards the ex. you know how it is. i think i’m almost done.
it’s that happily ever after that keeps me down.
not being able to let go of the dream of a perfect family. the great american sitcom family. yeah, there’s some rough times, but in the end, we all love each other.
except…
not.
no matter how i look at it. there is no possible way that what he thinks is love, is love. love doesn’t hurt people. go ahead, argue with me about it. but if you love someone. truly love someone. can you really rationalize hurting them? much less do it on pretty much a daily basis?
but, stupid me, it has taken a long time to learn this.
a lifetime of protecting myself enough just to fall on my face again when i believe a person has changed. when i believe a person actually loves me. when i believe a person couldn’t possibly hurt me…again….
sigh.
this ain’t fucking beauty & the beast.
yes, people can change.
but only if they want to.

escaping my escapism

for the first time
in
forever
i am not looking
for someone
to rescue me
no
not like i’m some fucking damsel
in distress
though i’ve tried
i’ve never managed to convince
anyone
i am a damsel
in distress
but still
always
in the back of my head
is the thought that someone
a certain someone
not just
anyone
but my hero
on his white horse
would soon ride in
& whisk me away
from all this…
except
the thought
is
gone
i somehow
escaped
my own
escape.

i’m in brand new territory, y’all. if i was still in therapy, i would be having a “breakthrough.”¬† but it’s just you & me here…watching…waiting…wondering.
and here we are.
brand new territory.
what now?
you know what?
what happens next will happen next.

meanwhile, i have started that queer week of my every month where i am a mother with no children. i mean…they still exist, but they are in wisconsin with their dad. and i am here, waiting…watching…wondering.
is this a week where i blossom & explore…or a week where i wither & mourn? it often goes either way.
but this time…
i think it is going to be the former.
don’t tell the minions, but after i left them with their dad–i felt a certain weight had lifted, & i could breathe again. yes, i will miss them…but in the meantime, i will revel in my perceived & temporary freedom from motherhood.

in case you didn’t notice

page one of chapter one
of my tell-all memoir
art journal
i have done sylvia plath
i have done vincent van gogh
now i am going to give
anais nin
a whirl.

is this going to work? are you intrigued or are you all, “meh”? not that it matters what you think because i think we all know i’m going to draw/write whatever the fuck pops into my head whether it’s popular or not….
still….
i’m wondering…should i try to keep it as close to memoir as possible–filling in the blanks & bulking up the dialogue etc. within reason? OR–or or or–should i just go “fuck it” and add fairies & demons, squid & flying whales?
honestly, i’m leaning toward option two.

also. i am working on more moses jones.
and thinking about just doing art journals for characters instead of me.

my cogs are turning.
let’s see if we go anywhere.

edit…so i kind of fucked around with the original and made it look better–to me. you can let me know what you think. you know. if you wanna.
here’s how it looked before:

in case you didnt notice p1

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