easy

sometimes i wonder
why i can’t just
do things
the easy way
be pleasant
stay married
rent
not choose art
work nine to five
buy the stuff
all of it
to make life
easy
don’t swim
against the current
don’t find a home
on the fringe
be sweet
be sweet
be sweet
let people
love you.

on the 5th i did several journal pages (they will appear over the next few days) and got a lot of my angst onto the page. the messed up mood i have been in since…like over a month. more? i am done with it. just. fucking. done.
art journal to the rescue!
it really seemed to do the trick. by evening on the 5th, i felt my heart start to lighten.
what would i do without my art therapy?
the sentiment on this page is something i have often felt. why do i make my life more difficult? why can’t i just go along with what most people do?
i can’t. i wouldn’t be me.
but that does not mean it’s easy.

get the flock outta here

a wolf
but not in sheep’s clothing
(they itch too much)
a wolf trapped
in a pasture
letting the grass grow long
to the disgust
of the flock
hiding in the flowers
that the neighbor sheep
long to mow down
a wolf
in plain view
terrified of being noticed
of being
chastised & condemned
for being
who she
is.

(this is about me)
i’m freaking out about city ordinances & the fact that i really just don’t fit in. i grew up in a small town. i suffered for it. so now i move into an even smaller town?
maybe it will all be okay.
but, meanwhile, i am going to be hiding in plain sight, having some panic attacks and visions of angry mobs.

dreaming green meadows

my anxiety is an electric storm
sky full of clouds
bursting
static with lightening
my anxiety is a thick heaviness
holding me together
pulling me under
pulling me apart
as i try to just
breathe
just breathe
breathe through the panic
the terror
my heart pounding
out of my chest
the phone rings
the door knocks
& my insides shriek
while i pretend
i
can
do this
face another day
a deer in the headlights
frantically
picturing green meadows.

i had to text my ex-landlord to remind her to give back my security deposit & almost died. (maybe not…but it felt that way.)
why do i always assume i am doing something wrong? that i am a bad person? that i don’t deserve what is mine?
why do i freak out with fear when i am put in the position of asking for something i am due?
like i am committing some unforgivable crime in the asking?
as i secretly wait to be crucified….
like the other day when i was getting my dog license in my new village…the city worker asked about my lawn. my reel mowered/scythed lawn. suggesting it was longer than allowed by the city. and now i peek out my window, waiting for the mobs with torches to tell me to stop fucking around & mow my lawn properly…even though i am pretty sure it is within regulations…mostly anyway….
fuck anxiety.
just fucking fuck it.

(i have no idea where this illustration came from. i just kind of emptied my head & it sprang up in there. i like it. i miss doing comics & think about comics often…just haven’t drawn/written any lately…though i am back to using my art pens more than my bamboo pen….)

half and half

i am half amish
half punk rock
100% anarchist

i’m not sure those numbers add up…. i have started telling people i’m half amish. using a reel mower & scythe to tend my lawn. hand saws. hand drill. wanting to build shelves without power tools. wanting to have an oven that uses wood instead of electric or gas. wanting to heat my home with wood. rejecting appliances and clutter.

i told the kids to tell people we’re luddite.

as i try to change the world from my little corner in wisconsin.

shits & giggles

little victories today
folding laundry
washed
at the old house
& travelled
to the new
little victories
mopping the mud
off of the bathroom floor
mud left by a flood
three
years
ago
mud from rivers & hills
mud that has lived in this house
longer
than i have
& with modest
success
driftless mud
mopped up
for shits & giggles
not out of any sense
of duty
it’s my bathroom
i wanted to see what it would
look like
sans mud.

i keep looking at all the things i need to do (boxes piled & still packed; walls with screws & nails that need removal/repair; a door that needs hung so one can poop in peace; etc.) and just kinda shrug. meh. i’ll get to it eventually. i’m hanging around this place for awhile. i can take my time figuring things out.
it’s nice not to rush. not to freak out. not to listen to the anxiety telling me i better get it done or else.

so in 2018, one of those freak storms happened that dumped tons of water in a short amount of time. as a result, three? dams in the driftless broke and water filled the little town i now call home. the water filled the basement of this house & went up to the third step as it creeped toward the second floor. walls, cabinets, appliances, and carpeting was destroyed & ripped from the house three years before i met it.
i like to think of it as a baptism for my house. a beginning, not an ending.
i lived in illinois at the time.
in the flatlands.
some think i’m crazy for choosing to move to a valley where one is warned not to put anything they care about in the basement.
but i like valleys. i feel safer there. more at peace.
why does someone from the flatlands of illinois crave the lush intimacy of a valley? well, durp, why wouldn’t they? i have seen enough plains & cornfields. i have had enough big sky & unstoppable winds.

today the kids & i played in a beautiful creek & watched the shadows of the clouds roll over the hills and i said to them, “aren’t we lucky! we live here!”

day ten

day ten at madness
manor
temperatures in the 90’s
& internal
conflict
afoot
who am i?
& why does that little
voice
whisper
“fat…ugly…old
irrelevant”
no!
i chose this
i did
i took this path
because i am not like
them
my bohemian spirit enjoys
doing dishes in a clawfoot
tub
digging through a cooler
for food
hanging laundry amid the trees
to dry…
this is who i am
i chose
this.

after a couple of days of spinning out. i came to this conclusion.
i did this. i want this. i made this my life.
there is method to my madness at the manor.

outside the box

i live
outside the box
yet still find myself
listening to the voices
shouting out
at me
from that fucking box
still find myself
projecting that box shape
onto my own life
only to berate myself
for coloring outside the lines
scribbling outside the lines
creating whole worlds
outside the lines
i could cut off my arms
cut off my legs
remove my head
& i still wouldn’t fit
inside the box
& why
why why why
would i want to stuff myself
inside
knowing i would die
kept in a box
i live
outside the box
& that
is the perfect fit
for me.

every day of my life tends to be a reminder to me that i don’t fit in. most days i am totally fine with that–some days anyway. even as a kid i wasn’t all that interested in fitting in. and the older i get, the more i realize just how non-non-conforming i am. how unconventional i am. never doing what everyone else is doing. with my flip phone, no internet, unschooling, buy-nothing-new, free store mentality….
people assume i am going to do what everyone does when they are fixing up a house. but i’m not. i’m going to be me…& that house will be an extension of me. of me & my minions.
it will be complete madness
in the best way possible.

(speaking of which, i am looking for foraged/salvaged materials & ideas for sustainable renovations. so if you have experience with this or know any good sources–let me know! also! who wants to come over & help me build walls & floors & maybe a rocket mass heater from whatever we can find to do that with?)


neurotic or instinct

am i following my dreams
or sabotaging myself….
is it intuition
or an anxiety attack
is this what i want
or am i just
living my life
out of spite.

i am in the process of buying a brick two story built in 1900. this house was in a devastating flood in 2018 when a dam broke here in the driftless region of wisconsin. consequently, the heating system, the electrical, & the water heater were wiped out. additionally, there was a lot of damage done to the first floor. walls & cabinets were damaged and removed leaving a blank slate for me to create from.
i kinda jumped on the house without much second thought due to the fact that i could buy it for the money i inherited when my folks died. i wanted to find an investment for the money before it was nickeled & dimed away. in no other scenario could i have a brick two story house. banks don’t want to loan me money because of my lack of income…but i can slowly work on the house and bring it back to life as i can afford to while also living there with no mortgage to pay.
but this whole happening has me suffering from panic attack after panic attack as i get unsolicited advice from way too many people…one being an older sister who is doom & glooming me into believing the house is going to fall down on top of me.
i had it inspected, & i trusted the inspection. i have instincts telling me it is a good move. i have friends who totally think it is a good move, including one who works in building salvage.
do i trust me?
do i trust me?
i have been turning everything over in my head. over & over & over.
no, most people would not choose to do this…but i am excited & want to learn about solar as well as wood-burning resources as well as cabinet building. i want to be unconventional & low-impact & turn this house into something awesome. i live in an area of the country ripe with amish craftsmen, artists, and do-it-yourselfers. i think i am in good company & am ready to make new friends….
yet still terror sneaks in…& then i have to talk myself down again.
but i am able to talk myself down.
remember that summer i lived on a bus with no running water for three months? i can totally do this, right?
(or am i setting myself up for disaster???)

dancing with the fey

we are the children of the fey
with green blood
running in our veins
a wildness
in our hearts
we dance
to a music
only we can hear
we live by words
everyone else
has forgotten
our purpose
is to bring a remembering
to turn our heart’s music
way
way up
so everyone can hear
so everyone
can dance.

i’m reading a book the way of the wild witch & it resonates quite a bit with me most times. some times not as much…but when the author writes about having fey blood passed on from years ago when the fey & humans were yummy with one another…that totally struck a chord with me
i was all like “of course–that’s why i’m this way!”
feral & green & always feeling like i don’t quite fit in….
so that was kind of cool
& empowering.
weird for a reason, y’all.

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