monsters for sawyer

i have been having a hard time.  not taking classes, being at the dead end of a relationship, trying to be a good mom and feeling like a complete humorless grump, unable to picture a future where i exist as anything but a failure….  i have sunk into a funk.  being in a funk means little motivation for creation.

plus!  my kids have been sick.  the baby has it the worst and is not letting me get any sleep.  no sleep equals no being able to stay up late to work on moses jones.

and today i broke the tip off one of my new rapidograph pens.  the 0/35 pen.  the one i have been using the most.  if there is a budding benefactor of my arts out there….

but i have been drawing a little regardless.  during the day when i get a smidge of freedom and no one is on top of me to bump and torment me.  of course, as soon as they see i am about to give my attention to something other than them, they are quick to jump, bump, and torment.  maybe i should start taking my art supplies to the bathroom with me (the only door with a lock.)

my six year old draws the most brilliant monsters.  he is my inspiration for many creations.  my nine year old helps me with squid and sharks, my six year old helps me draw monsters.  (this is one of his:)

today i wrote a letter to a past inspiration of mine.  my favorite ex-fiance.  i have written him many letters and hesitate to send him yet another neurotic letter, but it’s stamped and ready to go anyway–and it was my last stamp–so i have to send it, right?  i’ve had one really good relationship out of too many relationships.  and i fucked it up as brilliantly as i could.  i’m sure i am just a bump in the road of his love life, but i like to think there is still something there.  so i wrote him a long and rambling derailed train of thought of a letter today.  and i drew him a picture to show him how special, brilliant, and lovable i am despite what we both know to the contrary.  it’s a variation on a sketch i did earlier.

now i am going to watch the second half of serenity –hopefully before the baby wakes up again–and hopefully while working on the next page of moses jones.

sleep tight, y’all.

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