a blank page

so much hope
so much possibility
but how smudged
it gets
as it sits & waits
for its purpose

ugg. i forgot how annoying it is to have to put panels on a page. i need to re-think this. sure, there is probably a program or something for doing this digitally that takes like two seconds, but i am a chisel & hammer type of gal, y’all. i am a luddite. i like my pen in hand and the possibility (probability) of human error.

but!

i have it paneled. the first page of emperor ming:  one chicken’s dance with destiny

ha! i just came up with that. but it’s catchy, yes?

so the goats have figured out how to just walk right out & over the fence that is supposed to be electrified but is not yet electrified and i am left in annoyed awe of their intelligence.
agatha & quixote met me at the back door to say “hi!” before i escorted them back to their pasture–again.
agatha has also started jumping the fence to go in the pasture with luke (the ram) and buttercup (a pregnant ewe.) then luke starts chasing her (to fight or fuck??) and agatha gets pissed off & rears up into that intimidating goat attack pose before lowering her head to very lightly butt heads with him.
ruminants are weird.
but so lovable.

and whoever had money on my not being able to keep from stalking over to okcupid to look at profiles & answer questions–you won!
i found my first trumpette match. scary scary. i know there are trump supporters in theory…but in reality it is so so so disconcerting. this guy was spooky too. and of course, physically attractive. dammit. couldn’t white supremacist fucktards all be just as unattractive on the outside as they are on the inside?  that would simplify things.
most guys i am matched with have a notation that they will not date trump supporters. that is the world we live in now. politics have merged with dating.
also, i put some of my art on my profile…good idea or bad idea? they’re going to find out i am crazy sooner or later. may as well do it with art, i figure.

out of sorts

holy moly i am so out of sorts.
it’s a january thunderstorm. i quit drinking & facebook all in the same week. i’m already feeling all rejected by the men of “okcupid”–though the men there do seem way cooler than the men of “plenty of fish.” my kids are on overdrive and i keep thinking, “if i can barely deal with my life, how can i ever expect to find someone to jump in & be all–yes! this is what i want.”
other than dusty, who would jump back in in a heartbeat. which is a tempting thought sometimes when i am lonely & frazzled and then i have to remind myself of all the crap he has done to me. all the crap he says to me. and the crap i feel like when he is around.
crap.
and my berkey water filter has quit working.
all while i’m reading future home of the living god. reading books, as an empath, is risky. i get waaaaaay way too into the plot & characters and actually lose myself.
so i am currently lost in a dystopian nightmare.
and my end-of-the-world water filter has gone kaput.

i am so out of sorts.

i’m trying to draw this comic, but my kids are so super needy. plus there is laundry & dishes & food to make.
and i am crawling out of skin.

did i mention the winter thunderstorms of doom?

okay. here is an okcupid story to cheer us all up.
someone from the small town i live in messaged me via okcupid to tell me i should check out his profile and told me how he had read mine twice before he messaged me.
so, hey, he’s not physically my type, but i go check out his profile. first off, i see he is looking for a woman who owns a pair of heels and actually wears them–who dresses up every now & then.
the highest heels i own are on my motorcycle boots.
then he goes on to say in the “message me if…” that a woman should message him if she agrees that she should wear stockings & heels in the bedroom.
he says he read my profile twice?
i go on & on about sustainability in my profile & refer to myself as punk rock.
i don’t have on any make-up in my photos…i don’t even know how to put on make-up. my hair is short & messy–like it always is. (i’m assuming here that if he wants a woman to dress up every now & then he probably expects make-up and hair done.)
and in the “6 things i can’t live without” section, i have listed as my number one thing:  barefeet….
what woman who values barefeet would put on heels ever–especially in the bedroom??
why would dude think i was his type at all?

why not just have “message me if you are a warm body”?

internet dating is so weird.

re-cap:  end of the world, y’all, and my water filter is not working & i am still alone & lonely.
plus i have no beer.

a lack of enthusiasm for inktober

so october 7th i drove the minions through the flatlands of illinois to collect this new member of our homestead:

we left in the morning and did not get home until almost five when poultry has to be fed and sheep watered all while trying to get the new baby to eat (he was pretty pissed off about being taken away from his family–no wonder–and it was a day before we could get him to accept the bottle.) plus i had to relocate the bunnies to a puppy pen so i could use their dog crate for quixote’s “stall” in our sunroom.  as well as feeding the minions, collecting eggs, putting poultry away….
so it was after seven before i got a chance to catch my breath.

and i just did not feel like doing inktober. so i phoned it in and used an inking in progress as my seventh day:

inktober7

which i then finished for the 8th of inktober.

which brings us to yesterday, the ninth. i wasn’t sure what to do. i decided to just do some journal inkings.

my first one came out like this:

inktober9

and i was all like, “what the fuck, em?” i thought about posting it…but felt really conflicted about it, for some reason.
art for me is a meditation and an exorcism.
what is going on here then?

so i tried again:

inktober9(2)

and ended up not posting this one either. i was convinced people would hate them and be, like me, wondering what the fuck is wrong with me.

i want to keep doing inktober–because it is fun for me and keeps me creating….
but i’m not sure i want to share anymore.
it feels like i am putting myself out there…to no avail.

i’m just weird.
misunderstood.
a misfit toy.

…a strange lady.

inktober fourth

so i was totally going to work on moses jones and got out my sketchbook for working on her and found an inkstain inside it…and i just couldn’t walk away from an inkstain once i start seeing faces.
you know how it is.

before that i did this ink brush practice picture:

inktober4

and after i did the inkstain one, i had extra ink left over, so of course i had to do one more ink brush exercise:

inktober4(3)

and finian also did another one for today:

inktober4

which of course is fantabulous…
even though i am secretly jealous because he gets much better facebook response than i do. his one inking will earn more likes than all three of mine together.
ah well.
such is the story for the mother of genius children….

sometimes i just feel extra invisible…

ack.
social media sucks ass.
i mean
at least
for us super sensitive
extra damaged
introverts
sometimes i hate
facebook
so so so much
stupid tool
i feel like a stupid tool
extra invisible
everyone hates me
why do i do this
stupid
tool.

inktober3(3)

this is the third inking i have done today.
i am about to post it on facebook. in that stupid group i am in. and it will get zero “likes” as have the other two today.
inktober3(2)

c’mon.
my art doesn’t suck that bad.
why can’t i get a “like”….

and why do i care?

fuck a duck

i am ready to just quit facebook. a fucking social media site should not be able to cause me this kind of torment.
it’s stupid.
i know it’s stupid.
yet i am tormented.

IMG_0023

i am going to keep doing inktober.
i am going to keep doing art.
i am going to keep practicing my ink brush painting (right now i am opening the book the photo ark to a random page and painting it.)

and! and–i am going to get back to my comics. my moses jones and all the others.

it’s been too long.

so fuck you, facebook. even if you hate my art. i love my art.

i love being an artist.

a nice fucking neurotic artist.

day two INKtober

as i have said, i really want to practice my ink brush.
INKtober is giving me permission to do that.
which is cool
because i so often fail to give myself permission to play with my art.
finding other things to do is so easy…

fuck, i mean, i was going to take a shower first thing this morning…
it took me three hours to get there….

life gets in the way of art & grooming.

but!
INKtober means i have to play with my art every day or i am a big stinky loser (i think that’s what the rules say–i am not a very careful reader of rules & directions–which actually explains a lot about my life)

anyhoo

i spent last night watching the new season of gotham and playing with my ink & brush.

inktober2

inktober2(2)

needless to say, i had a lot of fun doing it.
i am just starting with one color & simple concepts.
i might do some image searches so i can get good stills with shadows and maybe do away with the outer line entirely.
fun!
so much fun!

i love being covered with ink

pages 18 & 19 AND INKtober 1st

i am pretty happy with the last two pages.
and they were a lot of fun.

i’m not sure about my first INKtober contribution. it was a doodle. no plans. that’s just what came out.
hmmm.
whimsy.
i am hoping to do some experimenting with just using a brush. it might be difficult for me. i do love my pen lines….
i am in a group of INKtoberists on facebook. it is awesome seeing all the different ideas and uses of ink. i have to keep reminding myself that it is not a competition–and that i am not the other artists.
i am me.
and this is what i do….

new moon, new season, new beginnings

after these three pictures are done
there will just be five more pictures left
which is very exciting to me
i am a little over my deadline–
the autumn equinox (tomorrow)–
but i think my work is good?
ish.
i mean, i sometimes hate it…but oftentimes i feel
empowered
yes
empowered by it.
witchy woo and goddesses
and my minions now look at the bunny and say,
“the moon!”

IMG_5433

i closed down my facebook page, my personal one, that i started when i abandoned ship on my original facebook page.
but then i went back, and started it up again–as a back up plan.
then, this week, with depression deep in my socks, i hated everyone for not just fucking taking a minute to “like” the self-portrait you can find in my previous post (and “like” it for fuck’s sakes. it’s cool)
so i shut down the facebook page where i had lots of friends (well, not “lots,” but more than i have on my other facebook page…if you are still following this rant) because i felt neglected.
and i am now on the facebook page from when i first went on facebook…just months before my brother died. the facebook page where i unfriended all of my right-wing friends & relatives before abandoning said ship.

new beginnings.

let’s try this again….

pages 10 & 11 and a do-over

page 10

two new pages…and then i had to do another version of this page:

page 7

for a laundry list of reasons that i put already in another blog.

page 7(2)

and i like the new version better. i do. but i wish i could stop hating my work. i try really really hard to look at it like someone would who isn’t noticing every little mistake. i try to look at it like i would if it weren’t mine.

that’s the trick, isn’t it?

this has been a difficult project for me for that reason. knowing that it is for someone else and that i can’t just squirrel it away and say, “well nevermind” is difficult for me. if it is a picture only the artist can love–fine. but since i am going to be putting this out in the world, i have that added vulnerability of knowing someone else is going to be looking at it–judging it.

moses jones once received a review from some comic blog. it was not a good review. but i was able to brush it off because i didn’t care what the review said and moses is my baby so who cares what other people think?

do i sometimes care what other people think?
no. i really really don’t.
i mean, i want people to like it…but if they don’t, it’s no big deal.
just like i want people to like me
but i really don’t care what people think of me.
however, i’m still aware of what people might be thinking….
i mean, i don’t live in a vacuum
no matter how hard my shell is
or how tall my walls are
criticism still hurts…

and compliments still confuse me….

my mom liked to tell me, “no man is an island.”
and i would answer her that i was a peninsula.

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