on losing my mojo and doing the work to get it back

this time last year was a particularly dark period in the history of Mel that not too many people know about. when my sprogs moved in with their dad, I lost 30% of my income and had a very hard time catching up to the point where I could make reasonably regular child support payments. it took a couple of months and, though their dad got quite a lot of breaks from me when he was the payor, he was not as glad to return the favour. he took me to court and, extra sadly, exagerated the amount I owed. I didn’t fight it and so my wages were garnished by 50% for most of last summer. so, while things were looking on the up and up in so many facets of my life at that time, I was basically in financial jail and that’s a really depressing place to be. it takes a real toll on your psyche when you’re working 3 jobs just to make ends meet and too tired, angry and broke to do you. all of that AFTER going through a court system which is harsh on fathers, for certain, but incredibly, indelibly judgmental of mothers who “allow” (that was a word used by a duty counsel lawyer I spoke with, as if my sprogs didn’t have minds of their own and was not at all the worst judgment I heard in the process, but I’m not going further into that – too painful) their children to leave their home.

art has always been my go-to in such situations. when in doubt, art it out. but I had the joy in that squeezed out by a mother who was full of praise in public, but hyper-critical behind closed doors. she was also rather good at volunteering my services FOR FREE – “oh! you need a poster done? I have a daughter who is an over-worked, exhausted single mother who can do that for you FOR FREE!” “oh! you want custom drapes for your cottage? I have  daughter who is an over-worked, exhausted single mother who can do that for you FOR FREE!” all while telling me how much better a job she would do, but not taking any of these “opportunities” on herself and exploiting my inability to say “no”.

I’m sure you get the picture of how the joy can be sucked out of your favourite activities with experiences like that. reason 183 that I no longer have a relationship with my mother.

anyways, I’ve been working on it, but I cannot lie: it has been scary. my head has been so full of negative self-talk that I began to believe, which makes it really difficult to sit down and believe you can do a thing. but I’ve been doing it and then my amazing mister tossed in a game changer in the form of a SUPER DELUXE spirograph set. who knew that a mathematical toy that required a lot of concentration and precision and MATH created for making pretty, flowery, if very precise designs could help me get back into the flow and be so inspirational? I guess I did as I’d been wanting one for years, but the experience of doing it was pretty magical.

fast forward a few months and I’m making psychedelic spiral doodles of snakes and butterflies and fishies and learning all about watercolours, a medium that has always intimidated the fuck out of me, and signing on to do a group art show all about bikes.

the inspiration was overwhelming. this is a thing I struggle with constantly, but BIKES! there’s SO much there! so much that I dragged my heels on getting started on all but collecting supplies until I finally hashed out a do-able, if simplistic concept: doodles inspired by songs inspired by bicycles.

in between deciding on my concept and beginning work on my pieces, my fairy godmother passed away and I dragged my heels even more and even contemplated dropping out of the show. I had a catch-up evening of sushi and wine and solid and much needed one-on-one time with one of my lovely loves and was describing what I was doing as “paint-by-numbers of my own, very simple drawings…that include spirographs, but I’m ok with paint-by-numbers and simplicity. I’m learning and I just need to do this show because I’ve too long shoved aside my need for creativity in the name of what others think I should be doing.” …or something like that. it was a very liberating thing to say because I believed every word of it. the following night I got back to work again.

and I did it. I wanted to submit 6 pieces and only did 5, but I did it. the daughter did too. we were scrambling with getting our submissions in some kind of mountable format at the 11th hour, but we did it and it felt really scary and really good.

what I submitted is all a bit silly and simplistic and include nebulous purple beings in alien landscapes with spirograph bits, but they all taught me something and all have a place in my heart:

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title: guess we’ll never see poor Madeleine again

inspiration: apology song by The Decemberists

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title: y avait Francis et Sébastien…et puis Paulette

inspiration: À Bicyclette by Yves Montand

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title: I might be trapped in a world going backwards

inspiration: Hadron Collision by Propaghandi

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title: I’m as Happy as the Dolphin

inspiration: Acoustic Motorbike by Luka Bloom

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title: Angel Cake for You and Me

inspiration: Bike Ride to the Moon by Dukes of Stratosphear (aka XTC)

it was fun. it was very, very vulnerable-making. of course it’s I’m still entirely a work in progress because one little art show isn’t going to undo a lifetime of prioritizing the needs and wants of others over what brings me joy, but it’s a start and it really solidified my commitment to doing the work.

I’ve signed on for a 30 day online drawing course that I hope will help me get back into the creative habit more than I hope it will teach me any new skills, though that would be nice too.


saving my sanity with silly games

While me and Em were bombing around the hills of the Haliburton highlands, Em (being the queen of the car game that she is) suggested creating an alphabetical playlist of songs with women’s names in them. We did pretty well for a couple of chicks sans google, but we’re both a smidge audiophillic. Today, as my tools keep breaking and because I’m a huge big nerd, I decided to make a new one.

It was kinda fun to plug in song titles only to find alternatives to the tunes I was actually looking for on grooveshark. I tossed in many of those just because they were funny (ICP!?!?!).

Insane, freneticness below:

Amanda – Boston

Betty Lou’s Gettin’ Out Tonight – Bob Seger

Caroline Says – Lou Reed

Delilah – Tom Jones

Emma – Imagine Dragons

Fiona’s Song – Bozzwell

Guinevere – Eli Young Band

Henrietta – The Fratellis

Iris – The Breeders

Judy is a Punk – The Ramones

Kimberly – Patti Smith

Luka – Suzanne Vegas

Martha – Tom Waits

Nadine – Chuck Berry

Olivia – Washed Out

Polythene Pam – The Beatles

Quana – Inuit Vocal Game – Artist not Listed (I *actually* had to search for this one)

Rio – Duran Duran

Sylvia’s Mother – Dr. Hook & the Medicine Show

Tessie – Dropkick Murphys

Ursula 1000 – Thievery Corporation

Vera Lee – Insane Clown Posse

Tomorrow, Wendy – Concrete Blonde

Xena Theme – ? (I couldn’t be arsed to look it up)

Be My Yoko Ono – Barenakes Ladies

Zoe Jane – Staind


no, I am not myself

Kittens, neglecting to get one’s prescription for brain meds refilled for four days while every single person in one’s support system is in crisis makes one feel an awful lot like this:

Image courtesy of the AMAZING Sean Godsey.

Lesson learned: DO NOT FUCK WITH THE MEDS.

Peace.

P.s. I am feeling MUCH better now.


checkins

It’s been a while, so I’m just going to jump back into this bloggy thing with a bunch of non sequiturs because that’s how I roll.

Things are good.

The sprogs opted to live full time with the baby-daddy back in March and, should that have happened, like, 3 years ago, I would have been a disaster about it because ALL THAT IT MEANS TO MY MOTHERHOOD. But I don’t feel it challenged at all. I feel like the sprogs have an arsenal of learning and experience and resources to guide them through their own decision-making. Far be it for me to hold them to me as our paths in life diverge.

I started (and have since abandoned) a sex blog. It lead to a slew of really fun projects, many of which I continue to be a part. Good, filthy, creative fun. I want to get back to this, but have a lot to reconcile around it. I ‘m not comfy with keeping things secret all the time. I hold loads of other peoples’ secrets and feel very little need to hold my own, but I started it all anonymously and am having a difficult time wrapping my wee noggin ’round what retracting or integrating that might look like. Still fun.

I keep moving departments at work. I don’t know what it all means. SNAFU.

I kinda need to figure out what to do about living arrangements due to aforementioned sprog arrangements. Not sure I want a housemate and not sure I want to move. I am conflicted.

I’m a bit of a smitten kitten over a boy whose company I’ve been enjoying greatly over the last few months. It’s very rare that good Mel-wranglers turn up; folks who get the kinds of connections I find really gratifying in between my weird, if short-lived, periods of hermitting up and processing and NEEDING to make and do. Not getting into the nitty gritty, but yeah. He wrangles well. Swoon.

It’s finally sunny and warm and it’s really difficult to keep the ADHD in check when I just want to be out playing silly baseball with the silly baseball players across the road from work or to be playing with the pig-dog and Mr. Bitey Kitty in the yard. Interesting plants are everywhere and growing and I want to commune with them and grow freckles and get brown.

I have a gazillion and 83 ideas I want to realise. I want to do get back into the craft/art show circuit. I want to express a whole bunch of shit. I want to create, create, create. As always, time is the dictatrix.

That’s me stuffed for now, kittens.

Peace,

M