down to earth

i am not safe
i am not easy
however
i am down to earth
i am right down to the
molten rock
lava in my veins
i am the hurricanes
on the sea
i am the tornadoes
on the plains
i am the rain that falls
to create life
i am the moon
waxing & waning
& pulling the tides
to me
i am alive
so
no
i am  not safe
i am not easy
& in my experience
i have found that nothing
nothing
worth having
ever is.

note to all you well-meaning men–if you aren’t interested, just say, “no thank you.” don’t make excuses. don’t prolong the inevitable. don’t rationalize & make nice. just fucking say, “no thank you.”
if there is need for further explanation, we will ask for it.
sigh.
i told guy to “be safe” after he pleaded “ptsd” and “not being that the kind of person to be sponateous” and “having too many responsibilities” to have a rendezvous with me.
first off, raise your hand if you don’t have ptsd.
fuck.
my ptsd has ptsd.
also, i have severe social anxiety.
yet i still reached out to him because i feel that the day i let my fears dictate how i live…i am no longer alive.
and who doesn’t have responsibilities? my whole life is responsibilities…which is exactly why i, for one, was dying to do something spontaneous.
i texted him that spontaneity is good for the soul.
he channeled somebody’s super fuddy-duddy father to text me back about not being able to do that for this & that reason.
why didn’t he just say, “no thank you” from the get-go? i am honestly wondering. this is not a rhetorical question of mine. i would ask him, but he shuts down communication with me pretty good with his fuddy-duddy father voice. i’m all like, “yes sir,” as i scamper away to look around for someone else to play with.
bleah.
so i told guy to “be safe.” i was being snarky, but thanks to text messaging ambiguity, he has no way of knowing that. (unless he reads my blog…but i don’t think he is that invested considering he turned down a booty call thinly veiled as an invite to a h.s. reunion….)
he said, “you too.”
and that inspired this page.

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until i do

i have decided
i will be alone
until i’m not
my weeds will grow
until i pull them
my lawn will get long
until i cut it
the walls
will be
the wrong colors
until i paint them
the world
will turn
the moon
will wax & wane
& i will not give away
my heart
until
i do.

i started to write about this page & realized i had a new page to write.
the same thing happened yesterday when i commented on someone’s post–i looked at my own comment & was all like, damn, them are some pretty words. and i gathered them up & nestled them into my art journal.
page by page.
one page at a time.

uncharted waters

it’s not just that
i’ve written these words
before
drawn this face
before
but i have lived
this lie…
li[f]e
often
spinning
in circles
following my own tracks
as if
i am afraid
to move forward
on
&
into
uncharted
waters.

sometimes…sometimes i just start drawing & see what happens. it’s been more common for me to do this than to plan out an illustration for my words. my thinking about what i’m going to draw before drawing it is a more recent development.
used to be, i would just start drawing.
which is what i did with this one.
but i kept thinking…why does this look so familiar (i mean, other than being a self-portrait)…then it hit me. i unintentionally/ subconsciously? drew me in the style of tank girl.
i love tank girl. she was a comic i was turned on to back in the late 80’s–early 90’s when i used to shave all of my head except my bangs wore trousers & doc martin boots & someone handed me a tank girl comic…because….
and i fell in love.
the same thing happened with love & rockets.
and both of these comics were ones i studied when i was trying to take my illustration skills from my confusion perfume days to my moses jones days.

but i did not set out to–or mean to at all–draw me in the style of tank girl. so now i’m wondering about that and about the bubbles that started out as a ball pit but morphed into a bubble bath which i didn’t realize until i read the last part of my journal entry.

uncharted waters.

so…why am i tank girl in a bath?
what am i trying to tell myself?
because, as master oogway says, “there are no accidents.”

spinning

this is how it is
with me
i go in circles
for years
convincing myself
i am on the right path
& where i want to be
following my own lead
believing my own gospel
until one day
like a light switch
i see the fork
in the road
& i take a new direction…
never turning back.

fickle? i like the word fickle. it rhymes with pickle.
in high school my friend dubbed me a “spigot of passion.” that works too. i pour it all out, all over the place. and then i shut it off.
i
just
shut
it
off.
but, in my own defense, all the times i have shut off my passion…i have done it in my own defense. i tend to trust my heart with ones who should not even be trusted with a lesser organ…like an ear…or an appendix. i give them my heart and they use it for an ashtray and eventually my self respect, my self preservation kicks in…and i just shut it off. i shut off my love. i close it away to somewhere safe(r).

this happened recently with my seymour saga. he finally crossed the line where i could no longer pretend he wasn’t doing a tap dance on the tattered remains of my heart & soul.

so i shut it off. turned it off.
he has nothing on me now.
he is nothing to me now.

does that make me calloused & cruel?
or does it mean i still have some love left
for me? after all i gave to him…i still have
some
left for me.

okay. seriously. “me & bobby mcgee” (seymour & mine’s song) started playing as i typed the words “so i shut it off. turned it off. he has nothing on me now. he is nothing to me now.” what the fuck, universe-that-insists-on-talking-to-me-via-songs-on-the-radio?? what the fuck? so i got up & turned off the radio & put on some amanda palmer on pandora. (oh do totally watch that video…it always makes me smile.)

 

grow

the last illusion
shattered
those straws you were grasping
have left you
empty
you are a husk
an emptiness
& all you can do now is
grow
up
& stronger
& towards the light
grow.

thank you to vincent van gogh for inspiration/material for this self-portrait. we probably would have made each other miserable, but i would have been better off loving him. i do like the gingers.

talk to me

obviously
i cannot come up with the
magic words
that will induce you
to talk to me again…
& maybe
maybe
you should tell me to “stop”
but i am pretty sure
my heart
would turn to dust
if you did
so i keep trying
some crazy stalker chick
to get your attention
recognizing
that you must know
my being ignored
only encourages me more
as i grew up
pretending
hostile silence
was actually deep
affection
a character flaw
i really need to out grow
& totally would…
but it’s you
it’s you
& i can’t stop
i can’t
please
please please please
talk to me
please
please.

it’s my birthday & i can obsess if i want to.
you know, if i ever did become famous…or infamous (really it could go either way with me)…if i ever did become renowned, this obsession of mine will make a great made-for-tv movie.

nothing

i tried so hard
to understand the pain in his heart
that caused him to be
so heinous to me
to treat me
like i was nothing
my trying to understand his pain
became his license
to hurt me more
& even though i explained to him
the pain in my heart
that caused me to be
cruel to him
he never listened
only holding on tighter
to his own pain
his own reasons
to hurt me.

 

safe, without you

i hate
that i still miss you
sometimes
i hate
that your sad
sadness
still tugs
at my heart
i hate
that i have to remind myself
not
to
love
you
keep myself safe
by re-living old pain
pain
that never stops
feeling new.

embracing my failures

i’m not living in the past
i’m not living in the future
i’m in the right now
& it fucking
sucks
it fucking
hurts
like hell
but i’m present
i’m here
embracing
my failures.

i was doing “yoga with adriene” last night. the theme was “embrace.” she asked us, her youtube audience, to embrace something.
being one to often cry during yoga
being one who having a hard day has become more of a given than an exception
being one to spend too much time inside my head
try as i might
all i could come up with was, “i embrace my failures.”

then cried some more because i had nothing better to embrace…cried while i stretched & toned in an effort to stay sane & fit.

i wondered at my embracing failure. it sounded like negative to me at first. like a failure in itself. i had not found anything good to embrace…only bad.
but then i wondered if it might be a good thing to embrace my failures.
right?
what else do you do with them?
hide them?
hidden things tend to fester…at least in my experience.
so maybe my embracing my failures is a step in the right direction after all.

embrace
resolve
turn around
try again….

so while that percolates on that flame of my brain, on another burner i have this noticing of a recurrence of the number six in my daily life. i have never gotten around to studying numerology, but i do notice when the same number keeps popping up. like when the clock shows my birthday…or my brother’s death day….
being a good (though recovering) catholic, i especially notice a triplet of sixes–which recently showed up on the odometer of the car i just bought. and although i do not cross myself…i do feel an impending doom when i see it.
however, being a born again pagan, i thought to myself today, what does numerology say about the number six?

i found this on a google. six as a life path number. basically spelling out all of the character traits that i have that i do battle with on a daily basis. i mean, yes, of course i want to change the world & fight for the little guy…but why can’t i just lay in the grass & drink a beer? or be a traveler with no responsibilities, leaving when things get rough? why can’t that be who i am? why do i have to be the ultra-responsible, high morality, wanna-be savior of mankind?
does mankind even deserve being saved?
can’t i take a vacation?

no. because i have actually shaped my whole fucking world around raising four children to be different. to not be like everyone else. to creating a better tomorrow in the only way i know how. by being a good mom. a strong mom. and i can’t run away from it. i have to stick to it and keep trying no matter how much i feel like i’m failing…even though it seems like i am always failing…i just have to embrace my fucking failures, and i have to keep
fucking
trying.

wow, see that?
i came full circle.

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