The Other Side Of

There is a method that helps those with PTSD. It conversationally gets them to the other side of their real moments of anxiousness. It asks, what’s the very worst thing that can happen?  The example shared with me was a little girl ( age 6 ) who had been beaten by her father.  Her triggers were noise. ANY noise. Her fears were real for her. Her fears were a handful for anyone around her.  If a storm was coming, she would go fetal and rock back and forth.  What’s the worst that can happen? It will be loud.  Here is a head set to protect your ears. Anything else? The lights will go out.  Here is special flashlight just in case. The streets will flood.  We can get through any flooding streets with our car. The roof will leak.  I have a bucket, and I will be sure to get that fixed.  and so on.  It made me think about the circumstances I have found myself in.  Not only now, but also in my past.  I just don’t seem to get a break.  I have had a year at my country studio. Yes, the year had some issues, but mostly it was a year in one place.  Vs the 4 months in one place or another. My please don’t make me move voice is screaming.  My can’t I just be left alone to my home and my creating space place wants to curl in a little tighter. I don’t think I have PTSD, but a circumstance this last month did push my holy shit this is intense buttons. the brief version is that a new neighbor ( what separates us is a wall) went manic and took an emotional chunk out of me. malicious pointed at me behavior. i took 13 pages of notes, what occurred is unlike anything I’ve experienced before, at one point i called for help, and because of all of this. I have been given notice to vacate my studio. for those of you new to my life adventures, this will be my 5th move since 2015. you can imagine my angst around it. I am good at moving. Meaning I know how to do it ( I better after all this moving ) and better yet, I can make a home out of a shoe box.  I can make it cozy.  The trick, is finding a place that I can manage with my low income. none of this would be an issue if I was more financially fluid. However I am not fluid. I am rebuilding. I am rebuilding, and the small strides I made this past year are admirable. this is what i’ve got.  Whats the worst that can happen here?? I could be homeless.

with this set of images I was celebrating the other side of my move here to the country studio.  when i arrived here there was a bucket to flush the toilet, there was no kitchen sink or stove set up, there was fixtures not connected, there was crude finishings, and there were 8 long ridiculous days with the landlord and his handyman scrambling to finish the tasks needed to make this place viable. the place still really isn’t viable, it’s very drafty, it’s got mice, the yard is a regular dump. but, it’s doable, and it was mine. and i could afford it. it is deeply quiet, private and bright.

the green chair no longer sits in this corner, it originally was placed there for the daylight. the longest space of light through out the day. it turned out that it was a drafty space. but in this moment it was what I had, i was exhaling – i was getting anonymously nude again. I was mounting that infamous green chair and revealing my – i got to the other side of this.

i recently attended a conference. the funds i used were a gift from a patron here. i call them patrons because they are people who see something in my work and they gift me their support and encouragement with funds.  a friend asked me how I do that. have patrons.  I was trying to explain that my work speaks to people.  and for some, it speaks to their wanting to help. sortof cool when you think about it.

my mojo/vibe in recent weeks has had the life sucked out of it.  just barely feeling like a person. funny because in march of last year….i felt that way, as I did the year before.

I hate march.

 

The Electricity Is Only Down The Middle

oh my gosh, i was so so very tired here.

the place when i arrived was unfinished. seriously unfinished. and in order to complete it. the landlord was IN my studio space for 8 days straight. i had no privacy. barely a set up to bathe or use the bathroom, or a place to cook or eat. a lot of sandwiches and beer. those 8 days. ha!!  the overwhelm i was feeling during that time, rendered me completely stopped. that spent thing we do when we can’t decide another thing. ever been there?

i reread a post the other day of how my first shower took 90 minutes.  the entire area was covered in construction debris.  plus,  i decided to do my dishes in there. i mean why not get multiple things done at once eh??

am i weird??

imagine a rectangle of a space. draw a line down the middle. that is where all the electricity is. none of the peripheral walls have working outlets. wall space is tricky because each end has doors and windows. one place really to put the bed.  and so on. each time i play i have to run an extension cord.  ugh.

this was the first and last time i sat on this floor. fake wood overlay on cement. cold. and hard. very hard. and uneven. i was gifted a few rugs that have helped.

mostly,

i am making do.

at this time last year spring had popped up everywhere

oh the fruit trees!!!

not so much this year.

i still feel winters bleakness.

isn’t march like that?? tense. tension. mother earth is in between two seasons

how are you?

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Who Was That Mr?

i like these images for the angst they portray.

final days here to the next move

so tension was thick.

there was this guy.

for the life of me now I can’t remember his “mr” name

we had a banter going for awhile

re: dating/meeting

distance however was an issue.

an appointment came up for me and i was going to be near him

so i asked if he would care to share an evening meal.

he agreed.

he was significantly late.

he had a necklace on.

big thick gold chain.

when a free appetizer arrived from the chef

he took his bread and scooped all the sauce off the plate.

i probably looked horrified.

he said something like

oh. sorry. i’m really hungry.

he spoke without breathing

for the next 2 1/2 hours.

he constantly looked at his phone.

mid dinner

i was fuming.

one can only uh huh so much.

i stopped even nodding at some point.

he was so not interesting.

and so full of himself

and so rude.

the dinner was great.

at least there was that.

when i got home.

i was still furious.

was it me.

did i do

or be

something

that had him

act that way?

it was my 4th

monster of a date in this town

and it sucked.

all of them sucked.

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How To Be My Friend

a gal friend recently shared that i am living the life of a hermit.

i have been thinking about this

and i agree with her.

it’s partly a life of one day at a time of survival

it’s also a part of living within my means

which, as means go,  is very very little.

setting limits like

i can do this…

i can afford one tank of gas per month.

last year that was a reality,

and according to my annual mileage.

instead of freaking out over that.

i felt rather proud of this detail.

i honored what i earn

by spending only what i have.

recently someone else asked how do i be friends with someone like you.

first,  i had to ask what she meant by someone “like” me

and she told me i was eccentric and brave.

wow.

what a compliment.

i said in reply…

to be my friend is to accept me for what i am

to understand that i give differently

that i consume differently.

that my rules/guidelines are my own/and often non-conforming.

you will never find anyone more loyal

or tremendously good company.

if you feel like you really don’t know how

ask me,

and we’ll figure out a way together.

and,

all that said, i think she will be a really terrific friend.

as time goes by.

as i age.

as people come and go.

i like that the going part doesn’t matter anymore

i like that i have realized that holding on to folks that are not good for me

does not make me happy or loved.

i’d rather have less,

and have those that get it.

then more.

LOVE this set of images.

they are my valentines gift to you today.

this former apt did not celebrate light very well

and in the bleak of winter, even less

i was packing,

roommate zilla had been out of the country for a month.

but she was coming back soon.

and that kitty and me time

was going to end.

the sun rays were so much fun.

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All Fluffy

me thinks if roommate zilla ever knew i sat on her fancy chairs nude she might have about freaked. i remember this particular morning because for once it was bright and the sun was really warm. normally a chill was in the air and ever so bleak was more the going thing.

obviously i had just gotten out of the shower – things were all fluffy. grin

if i look at these past winter months over the last few years all i was ever doing was moving, packing or selling something.

i will be at my country studio a year soon. the landlord has hinted to a increase in rent, but i plan to ignore that. the last thing i am interested in is moving. i am sure you believe me when i say that!!

i expected more commentary on the beard and mustache.

those against it feel that shaving is a choice. like …ewwww you have hair on your face – get rid of it. their mainstream thinking is that women do not sport facial hair – my choosing not to shave it to some is an act of defiance.   others feel i won’t be taken seriously or it will hinder my ability to be hired.  i am an artist and I live a hermit boho lifestyle – i don’t interact with the masses on a regular basis. my art speaks louder than the hair on my face – it’s about the art. not my appearance. others say i limit my ability to be attractive to a man. well, since dating here is horrific and i’ve not had a line at my door, like ever – what difference will hair on my face make?? maybe hair on my face is just what i need. For those into bearded ladies – it seems to be virtually into. my real life is rather surreal if you think about it.

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Current Look

I have put myself in multiple public circumstances now with my beard and mustache. I notice two things:

  1. if i say nothing. people say nothing in return. polite, kind, no worries
  2. if i draw attention to it – speak of it, this makes folks feel compelled to offer commentary. and or makes them feel uncomfortable. who knew.

me thinks i like the say nothing approach.

I took this today. I am liking my facial hair more and more each day. it’s funny. one side is mostly white hair, where the other side, in both the beard and the mustache has some black in it.

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Things That Stay Constant

ever really observe your day to day?

those nuances, those quirks, those details, those things.

ever observe what has been the same

forever?

some things just always stay constant.

and then, when you shift them up.

you have to improvise.

like find the masturbation love

even if there is no natural light.

or let go of those really great sheets.

or be glad that mr wand is in your life.

or take pictures of a cat.

because how could you not.

( or in todays constant. its pictures of cows. moo.)

or this lamp.

which i got i think in 1999 or so.

i still really love it, love looking at it

and in my day to day

its a constant.

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