topsy-turvy

so i’m “between homes” with dusty & my minions. we are staying with dusty’s family…all of them…in a duplex in small town wisconsin….sigh. dusty disappears as dusty does, and apocalyptic mamas lose a little bit more of their minds. but this too shall pass…right?

i have moses jones with me. all my materials and pages. i even remembered to get my pens out and take them for a walk to keep them from clogging as i struggle in an unfamiliar environment. struggle with my routine being fucked up. struggle with kids and cohorts stressed to the maximum.

i have not found the time, energy, or space to work on moses jones.

i need to find a place to live. so so need to do that. a room of one’s own, right? a home of one’s own? an artist loses what little she has of her mind when she squats in a two bedroom apartment with three other adults & four small children.

and i accidentally got hired to work a real job. a real job? who do i think i am? i haven’t worked outside my home since early 2006. fuck an alarm clock.

sigh.

artist, mama, student, baker, writer?

or candlestick maker?

i doodled this as my daughter, misha, did a study for language and development. she is delayed in her speech. the speech pathologist made a point of telling me how important it was that we get her ways to communicate all the amazing things that must be going on in her head. or else she will become frustrated with not being able to show people how amazing she is. “it’s especially important with children as bright as she is to learn to communicate.” dumb kids need not apply, i guess. ha! i felt sad thinking of her frustration–perhaps because i know that frustration. being misunderstood. not being able to put into words–or the right words–all the amazing things in your head. my own delayed speech, i think, must have contributed to my wanting to be a writer and an artist–to my wanting to find a better way to communicate where spoken language had left me wanting.

as i watched misha play with the speech pathologist, i was reading hip mama’s latest issue and trying to read the short story that won first prize in a contest i did not place in. the story was…lackluster? it did nothing for me. this won? i thought, and tried not to take it personally. i need to try harder. i can do better than this. were the next thoughts to run through my mind. doing better. i can do better than the entry i sent to the contest, and i can do better than the story that won first prize. i am actually a very good writer. it’s true. i need more focus maybe. more practice. but i do have something. i need to start writing again! i determined. i quit writing fiction (other than graphic novels) because i was tired of being rejected and tired of competing with the never-ending parade of writers there are these days. but i have a renewed desire to write and to compete. some of it is a need for money–should i start winning contests and getting published–but a lot of it is just my need to communicate. graphic novels are my first love, but–fuck me–the story unfolds slowly. i think i need to be spewing other thoughts of mine in a quicker fiction.

speaking of money. i have not “worked” since shortly after fidgit was born. almost 10 years ago. i have worked–hard for no money–as a mom. i have done some freelance writing for demand studios (google “em connell mccarty” for your ehow articles on how to give a dog a birthday party…ha!) and i have gone to school for writing and art. however, as unconventional and low-impact as our family is–we need a bit more of the green stuff. and not the green stuff we can forage for. today i am trying to write up my resume for a baking job. i love baking–but i’m not sure about the hours. so far i have my name & phone number written down. no address because i’m not sure where i will be living at the end of the month. though! good news there. the woman we met with about renting part of her home seemed to like us, and having had two sons of her own (now grown) she was not terrified by the antics of figdit & iggy. so we might might might have a place to live other than my mazda5…. and maybe more income if i can remember my work history from my previous lives and use it to find work. or! maybe i will win a fiction writing contest…hmmm.

what keeps me busy

i am so wrapped up in house hunting. i think of little else. plans. back-up plans. panic attacks and deep funks. i hate house hunting. house hunting when four little people are involved is…oh my god…how do i do this? today we are meeting with a single woman who is entertaining the idea of renting part of her home to us. i think about someone else having to live with my children and i find myself thinking, “i don’t even want to live with them–how can i ask a stranger to?”

okay. i don’t always feel this way about the minions. lately is just…special. poppy is grumpy. iggy is grumpy. i am grumpy. we act and react to each other all day long.

page 004

meanwhile, in my comic process, i did manage to draw something. just a journal page. but it turned out kinda cool. also, in my quest to be a better artist, i am reading the gift by lewis hyde. it is taking me awhile to read it. just snippets here and there when i’m not wrapped up in needy kids or house hunting. but so far so good. i am finally in the second half which is more applied towards artists. i will let you know what i think.

that’s all i can update you on today. poppy is screaming at me and iggy is screaming at fidgit. yay. good times.

seriously…

if it’s not one thing….

we are slowly recovering from our zombie infection. but now poppy is teething–which means, he spends as much time attached to my nipple as i can endure…and then some. which means i don’t get much sleep. if you have ever tried to sleep while someone incessantly sucks at your nipple…. i can’t do it. eventually i get tired enough to fall asleep while he comforts his teething by nursing off my tender nipples, but i have to be pretty damn exhausted to do so. if i don’t nurse him, he screams and gives me the stinkeye until i give in and nurse him again. motherhood is so much like being captured, imprisoned, and tortured by the enemy camp. yay motherhood.

i’m pretty damn exhausted…maybe a bit bitter.

i did manage to do thumbnail sketches of the next two pages. i was going to go straight into the woods with moses & the gang, but then i got to thinking about the others who were watching her march off into zombie-infested woods with her kids in tow. then i started writing that. so that will be the next two pages. plus! i practiced my katana drawings a bit. however, fidgit told me they still don’t look right and would not stop criticizing them. so dusty told him how the japanese used to test out new katanas. yikes. poor fidgit is going to have nightmares for a week. though he traumatized fidgit in the doing, it was kind of sweet of dusty to defend my katana sketches. he suggested i should do a story about how she got her katana. i replied, “well, dusty gave it to her, of course.”

one night, just before passing out around ten pm, i did manage to do some layout for my pages. i am hoping that later today i will get a chance to ink in my first draft of at least one of the pages. i usually update my tapastic page on sunday or monday. i am all caught up so that i cannot update it until page 30 is done. it might take a miracle to get a new page up by monday. new page on monday…is that a duran duran song?