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Category: Personal

September 2020 Bullet Journal

I haven’t used my physical, paper bullet journal since February of 2020. There are a lot of reasons for that. I won’t go into them, because if you live in the U.S. or aren’t shut away from the news, you no doubt will have some idea and empathy as to why. So the first week of August I did the bare minimum to get myself back into it. I made two pages. One was a mind dump of ideas and random thoughts about what the house needs, what I could do for paintings, what sort of prints I might try…

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Black Lives Matter

Imagine building a country, to have it never treat you like equals. Imagine that country killing you, thousands of you, and nobody listening. You would be angry, too. Livid. And tired. And at the breaking point. Don’t tell me their anger is not justified. Fuck our white guilt. Fuck our white tears. Do something. Anti-Racism Resources For White People Document compiled by Sarah Sophie Flicker, Alyssa Klein in May 2020.

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Do Unicorns dream of electric watercolors?

Dry, dusty, parched and chalky earth that has been touched by the first drops of rain. The whiskery shush of bristles that swirl gently over a small cake of vibrant color, creating rainbow bubbles that quickly disperse. Fine hairs sweep across a dry or dampened thick piece of paper that whispers encouragement to keep trying. Experiment. Too much water. Not enough. I’m blank. Try again. Keep going. I can smell the watercolors. Especially the Arteza palette. It reminds me of something half way between side-walk chalk accidentally left into a storm and the wave of smell that comes from a…

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Eight

I I have a clockwork heart. Meaning that it breaks occasionally and needs fixing. But instead of hiring someone to fix it somehow I either put it back together or it majestically jumble-fucks itself back to some working semblance so I can keep on ticking. Both are confusing. I can’t google myself. I mean, I can. But I can’t google how to fix what I am feeling from any moment because then, “the google,” as I like to say to anyone younger to drive their eyelid to start twitching–tells me to snort some yoga and put on a face mask…

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Grief has no plot, like my blog posts.

I wrote on the 16th of November on the dreaded book of the face, how I found it distressingly amusing that in times of personal grief instead of being the lovable weird pink monster of glitter over sharing that I usually am—I lose all ability to communicate as I would normally do. Usually, I over share. I am, as a friend once told me, much like a too enthusiastic golden Labrador retriever stuck in a human body. I want to run and jump and over-share and wag my tail and be sad and happy and all the things without a…

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I Carry your Heart With Me

9 and 1/2 years ago we lost an almost 20lb meatball of claws and purrs named Raven. She came to Shawn well before he ever met me, via a lady who I believe asked him, “Hey, want a cat? We don’t want it anymore,” and became the illusive meatball ninja of almost-feral timidness that also demanded pets and scratching but only on her terms. When Raven passed, we were finally living on our own in a one bed room apartment instead of with my husband’s parents which, at our ripe old age of mid 30’s was a fuckin’ step up…

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Beauty & The (Beast) Bulletjournal

When I was 12, I cried because I was too chubby to fit into a thrift store dress. It was for a Halloween school dance. I wanted to be a princess. When I tried it on at home during the last minute, my mother couldn’t find a way to make it fit. Eventually, the zipper went up, but it busted. I went. But I haven’t forgotten. I never really got into beauty as a teenager. “Someday, I will find someone who will love me for who I am, not what I look like.” Snickering laughter. “No. That’s not how it…

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What’s in a tooth?

When I was 16, I was terrible. Not only was I going through what any teen at that age goes through–hormones, boys, body image issues, self-esteem problems, trying to fit in desperately where I didn’t–I probably had the beginnings of my depression and bipolar II crop up. I didn’t know the word depression. I didn’t and had never heard of bipolar. Anxiety wasn’t a word in my dictionary of angst filled teenage words. I was fat, I had random giant zits on my face at all times, and I was and still am average looking at best. I didn’t know…

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How to clean when all you want to do is Pterodactyl screech at life.

Living with chronic illness; be it physical or mental takes a ridiculously gross toll on everything in your life. There’s no “quick fix,” to being empty of even the energy to wash your own face in the morning, let alone clean your home like “normal” people do. (Please imagine my hugely sarcastic, eye rolling finger quotes being made in the air as I say normal) Cleaning during depression can be like climbing a mountain naked armed with a pencil and a pack of stickers. Medication is great, but it’s never an end all, be all, cure all. There will be days where your shit will simply not get together, personal hygiene becomes an afterthought, dishes pile in the sink, never or barely rinsed, and you’re pretty sure the clothes on the floor in your room have become sentient. It’s overwhelming to look around you and see your home reflect the state of your mental, emotional and physical shambles—and knowing you should care, and you should do something; but you just can’t drum up enough feeling to do anything than feel miserable and not caring. And then that sends you on a lovely guilt spiral that makes you want to do anything even less. And the cleaning never happens.

So how do you even start cleaning during depression?

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New year, who dis?

[pullquote]Protip kid: nobody fucking knows what they’re doing either so they either wing it or hire someone to wing it for them[/pullquote] It is almost a new year and as tradition in this household dictates, it is a time of trying to pick up shit you haven’t done in seventy five thousand years in an attempt to better yourself. Maybe. A little better. Pick up some things. I guess? Anyway, what I mean is, Hello WordPress. As you may have guessed, there was a hiccup a few months ago. We installed a new theme (that wasn’t Divi) and that theme pretty…

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