Age 47. 3 children, 2 living. 1 home birth, 2 cesarians. Breast implants, breastfed all children via pumping. Weight 127. Height 5' 2". Cheap reader glasses from target. I have my period right now. Maybe the last one. I had coffee and birthday cake for breakfast. Today is sunny and zero degrees F. How are you?
Lorna Doone's 60th Birthday party
and my remembrances of living with her in that house
as seen through the viewpoint of the 6th dimensional pixelbot
that popped into my room one day. and said "wake up! have a cup of coffee!"
full shamanic ritual endurance version.
This is Patrick's altar when it was blazing away during the Haunted Spaceship show. I took a photo off my computer monitor :)
She did this yesterday. Her drawings get more complex :)
Brian Eno's oblique strategies apps recommends I do this right now:
This is what it is like to have PTSD from being a woman in this world that tells me how free I am then gives me these toys to my daughter to let her imagine being a female doctor according to the Barbie world.
Everything is tainted with an oozy creamy film of disgust and bad carpeting that doesn't match anything you are. Pink clashing with scribbles on walls that seem to appear from my nightmares.
Everything disjointed. Nothing makes sense.
I straddle this world and their world and our world and your world and their world but I must do it with no complaints about you taking a photo of an up skirt if me on an escalator and then sharing it with your friends and saying things like "I'd hit that" and "I'd cap that"
I am the despised and feared and worshiped Scandinavian woman from good stock. My drapes don't match the carpet so my value goes down 10 points for that. I have fake breasts that made milk for all three of my children. I now have curves like a "real" woman at 47.
I'm supposed to celebrate this.
I'm in my daughter's room wondering who she is and who she will be and just being blown away by the sheer responsibility of being in charge of raising "a strong woman" (because woman are naturally weak, you have to teach then to be strong, I hear)
How will I teach my beautiful little violet about up skirts? Why does she have to endure this bullshit in her future?
I can only pray the world is different when she is older and I can make it better for her. This is what every mother strives for (usually)
Will we survive?
Yes, we will. I take you up skirt doctor Barbie laying on the pitiful carpeting from 1979 and i say I love you. I love your mini shirt. I love the fact that you can lay like that with your feet in the air without a care in the world. This is what it is to see like a child.
I want to see like this again. It's just a doll laying on the floor that happened to fall over in that position.
Much like any woman.
More snow. Grey. Need summer now. Now. Now.
I'm going to make a turkey soup today. Get started on the broth. I wish I had fresh thyme. In the summer thyme grows crazy all over our lawn. Mmmmmm. I want to lay on my back in the grass and watch the clouds.
I haven't paid much attention to news/current events in a few weeks or more. It's nice to not have that in my head.
I'm starting to wake up so my mind is kind of blank right now except for the usual weird watery dreams I have where I am wandering around in dangerous neighborhoods that are delapitated and beautiful. Old stone churches taken over by the homeless and prostitutes.
Now my brain is whiplashed back to my kitchen where I must attend to breakfast.
I really hope that today I can finish the video I made from snippets of Lorna doone's party. I've been working and thinking on it for a week now. I have to stop being so precious about it. But also there have been a lot if things getting in my way of being creative like children being sick and not getting enough sleep.
But today. I really want to finish it so I can move on to a new movie.
Here is something violet drew on the computer and she wanted me to take a photo of it. She is really good at drawing with only a computer mouse for 4 years old, I think.