I could use some joy right now. I just keep reminding myself of all the good I have in my life.
Brushstrokes November 3, 2013
Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures.
Henry Ward Beecher
I am lost inside my art. With every brush stroke, I am carried farther away from the troubles that inhabit my brain. I breath in the smell of the paint and see the whiteness of my canvas transform from something empty and dull into a world of color and delight. Painting quiets the noise in my head.
Art Festival and Nourishment of My Soul July 29, 2013
I took a nice, much-needed trip to a festival in the mountains. Seeing the beautiful artwork of others really inspired me. It also made me feel great about my own work. Sometimes I feel like my work is so…untalented…not good enough. I know people TELL me it’s good, but you know how that goes; these people love me (or at least like me and must see me regularly). After seeing the art for sale….that people were BUYING, I feel like my work (some of it) might actually sell in the right market. So I’ve decided to try it. I’m going to complete as many pieces as I can, then sign up for a booth at a local festival.
As for my trip, it helped to clear my head. I’ve been in a fog the last few weeks. Not really depressed, just existing. I’ve just watched the hours turn into days. Now I feel ready to do something. I have a purpose again.
I’m including a few pictures of the festival. It was great! I sat on the sidewalk, eating Thai food, listening to a local band, and watching the people walk by and thought what a wonderful life it would be to travel to various festivals and sell art you lovingly crafted. That fits my ideal lifestyle! I met such interesting people and had great conversations about art and life. My soul feels nourished again.
Meet Our Fur Ball, Tucker June 26, 2013
Meet Tucker. He is a Shih Tzu just like Sophie, and just like Riley was. He is adorable and has a sweet nature, but is feisty enough to hold his own with the “grand-pups” when they come over. I think it is okay that I am not bonding with him right away like I have my other dogs; he seems to like hubs, and they have bonded nicely. I’m fine with that; I just want the little guy to have the love he deserves. It’s not that I don’t like him; I really do. I just know my heart is not in it. I will grow to love him more because that is my nature; I am and always will be an animal lover.
Sophie is still avoiding Tucker. We are trying to help her out of her depression. The vet said to give her time, and to make sure she gets to do some favorite things. I bought her favorite chew toy today, and she got to go for not one, but TWO rides in the car. She seems content at the moment. As I am typing this, she is lying beside me chewing her toy. Tucker is playing on the floor with hubs, playing tug-of-war.
As for me, I had to get out of the house today. I got up early and went grocery shopping (I know, not exciting, but it gave me something to think about). At 10:00 I broke down. Riley died at 10:00 a week ago today. I also cried when it thundered because Riley was scared of thunder. After multiple breakdowns, we decided I needed a distraction so hubs took me to see a movie and then we went out to eat. It did help, so at the moment I feel more peaceful than I did earlier.
I’ve tried doing art, but it all turns to shit. I cannot force it; art (or writing, for that matter) has to come from somewhere deep inside. Even my photographs seem flat. Hopefully I will find that spark again, because it is the best emotional release I have.
Will You Still Love Me? May 16, 2013
Will you still love me
when you witness the wretched, fire-breathing demons
that crawl through my head?
Will you still love me
when venomous words (that I don’t really mean)
spew from my lips?
Will you still love me
when you discover my horrible secret truth
that no one knows?
Will you still love me
with all of your heart and soul
when I am hardest to love?
Will you still love me?
Truth is, I Resent Being the Impulse Police January 27, 2013
Okay, time for a little soul-searching. My daughter, J, told me she was going for coffee, then went out and got her nose pierced. What was my reaction? I was pissed. Let me explain.
J, age 25, lives with me because she cannot live on her own. She cannot handle her money, her actions, etc. due to her bipolar, eating disorder, and other assorted problems. She’s tried, many times, but she just is not ready. Money is still an issue even though she lives with me. We’ve tried all different ways, from me holding her money to her getting an allowance, but money is an issue for both of us and it causes great conflict between us. So when she runs off and spends money she doesn’t really have, it pisses me off.
It’s not the piercing. And before that, it wasn’t the tattoo(s). I have nothing against either one. I just get so damn angry when she does impulsive things, especially if it costs much money. She doesn’t think things through, she just does it.
Why am I so mad? I’m trying to be totally honest here. I think I am mad because….I see me. I see me doing impulsive things that I regret. I want more than that for her. I know that other people in my life have prevented me from doing some things I impulsively wanted to do; I try so hard to be that buffer for her. Someone has to be the voice of reason, the sanity that keeps her from doing some things. ( I once gave away most of my belongings because I wanted to hitchhike across the country. I even bought a sleeping bag. I still dream of that trip…)
I am also tired of being that voice of reason for her. I can barely be the voice of reason in my own head, and it is draining to constantly do it for her. I resent it. I resent being the “Impulse Police”. I can normally let the little things, like piercings, roll off of me. After all, what’s a little hole in her nose compared to, say, taking 1/2 bottle of pills? But sometimes, I find it hard to turn off the “Impulse Police”. And when I do, sometimes the results can be devastating.
Also, I think I am a little jealous. She is at an age where she can get away with doing a few impulsive, sometimes even reckless things. Me? I’m supposed to know better, so when I behave recklessly I just feel…stupid.
I actually like tats and piercings. So why do I react like some 90 year-old stuck-in-the-past grandmother when she gets them done? I don’t like that side of me because it is not reflective of how I really feel about it. That is something I need to work on.
My Erotic Mistress December 11, 2012
TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE
She is a beautiful, erotic mistress
who beckons me with slender fingers.
Her beauty radiates from her eyes
two deep, dark liquid pools
that threaten to swallow me
if I stare too closely, too deeply.
Her voice whispers seductively in my ear
filling my body with a red-hot desire.
“Just take the leap” she moans
“Close your eyes and give in to me.”
I lean over the edge of the cold railing
Gazing at the water that seems miles away.
“Come fly with me,” my mistress whispers
“Take my hand and you will be free
No more pain; no more heartache”.
I long to please her, so I step on the rail
Feeling her moist, warm breathe
on the bare skin of my neck
sending icy chills up and down my spine.
I shiver and almost lose my balance
In that moment, as I teeter on the edge between
life and death…
I choose life.
My mistress sighs, then leaves me
as I step away from the edge.
Life wins, once again,
but my heart knows that my mistress, Suicide,
will soon return for another try.
**NOTE: This is just a poem; I am not currently suicidal. When ideas for poems or fiction come to me, I have to get the thoughts out. I have felt this way, more times than I care to admit. But, just like in the poem, so far life wins.