It feels like it’s been so long since I’ve written. With an erratic nap schedule, erratic moods, erratic everything, erratic everything, I’ve given myself permission to lay off the S.O.P. and go with the flow of energy, absorbing the mind fatigue like a sponge in milk. Like the sponge I use daily to wipe up all the dirt and grime spread evenly through our house and car like green grass on the spring hills. My insides feeling pressure and pain as I battle like a trooper searching for relaxation, light, time, and a clearing of the fog of drama that has entered my delicate soul. True inconsistences between me and other parts of my world, the big beautiful cluster fuck of reality. But I sit here now within the fire, the burning of my bra, they did it for a reason you know, not just to protest for women’s freedom, but also because bras wrap tight around the ribs, digging in, leaving a red mark, insulating toxins, growing cancer, they knew it was just an extension of the Chasity belt. I’m not playing their games anymore, the games of patriarchy. That is what this comes down to for me, that erratic unease, unrest, dis-satisfaction with the system, with reality. My fight goes way beyond student loan reimbursements, I mean am I gonna get a refund for working full time, putting myself through college, will I get a refund of the money I used from my savings account that I paid for graduate school with? Fuck a phone call buzzing on my stupid IPhone, now my conversation is broken, now I have to check my message. What I’m proposing is a respect for myself. For my practice. I cannot be on-call. I propose a total respect for women. I want all the judgements about people based on their appearances, their dress, to go away. I want people to get off the fucken band wagon and think for themselves, I want the ugliness to go away. I want women to finally be viewed and treated as human, not sex objects, I want women to be able to walk around braless anytime anywhere without it meaning anything, it’s not slutty or dykey, or trashy. It’s our body. The only reason that our bodies are looked at in this way is because of advertisement, brainwashing, Barbie’s, look at what the world has done to women. We’ve been used and now we are paying for it. The bra has to go. Only wear during exercise when you don’t want jumping squirrels in your tops. It’s bullshit.
Category: being present
-
Fiona is learning three languages at once, “see sign”, ASL, and English, so is Jack but “spoken English” comes naturally to Jack because he can hear. Fiona on the other hand has to pay attention to every word spoken or signed. And that’s just learning the word, not the context, she has to pay attention long enough and watch the person talking long enough to get enough of the word meanings, then she has to remember it all, because when she’s in the other room or her back is facing me she doesn’t understand or hear what I’m saying. She may hear a noise, but not words and phrases. Jack on the other hand can hear if I say the word “cookie” and he’s in the living room watching cartoons. I think this is why Fiona always wants to be close to me or Lindsay, or any adult around.
I am learning “see sign” and ASL, I’ve been taking lessons in “see sign” at Early Start and ASL with Lindsay. It’s alot and sometimes my brain shuts down and I can’t remember my signs. My goal is to be fluent by fall, Fiona will be three next year and it’s always been very important to me that she grows up with a strong foundation in ASL. I’d like the whole family to be fluent, but Alan hasn’t jumped on board.It’s been challenging to stay calm, in the moment, remember my sign language, And take care of Jack and Fiona at the same time, because they are two years old and there’s two of them! They Need discipline, because they are getting up to some CRAZY things lately, they are also learning the art of mommy manipulation! “My leg” limp, limp! “Oh my gosh Jack, are you ok? Does it hurt really bad?” “No” he says. Not cool Jack, not cool!
I haven’t had much time to write or paint in the past couple of weeks. But I painted these two yesterday in response to Donald Trump and all the other Republicans talking about womens rights and freedoms.
I think everyone should just plaster pictures of vaginas everywhere. They are so scared of vaginas. I say DOWN WITH THE PATRIARCHY!! ( I’m OK with Bernie being president though because he understands that vaginas and uteruses are a womans responsibility, thanks Bernie!)I still love Hilary too and think she rocks! I listened to the interview with her and Rachel Maddow and was once again relieved to hear SOMEONE talking about important things and The REALITY of the current situation in the WORLD. She sounds smart and amazing in my opinion. I started watching Bernies interview too but need to finish. He just seems like a really nice guy.
It’s Saturday morning, babies awake now! We’re headed to Oakland to check out the Terry Hoff show at Fourth Wall Gallery.
-
I grab the two zip lock baggies out of the fridge, one marked “Fiona” one marked “Jack”, walk over to the trash can cringing, “I’m sorry, I feel bad” I say to myself. I toss the bags with half eaten chocolate bunnies in the trash. I shove them down below the empty boxes of Chinese food, pieces of strawberries, used tea bags, and slimy yogurt. I don’t want Jack or Fiona to see that I’ve thrown away the rest of their candy from yesterday, the candy that is rightfully theirs to enjoy to the last bite. But as I watched my children eat candy all weekend and the grand finale last night, an ice cream cone before bed, I said “Starting tomorrow, NO MORE CANDY!” (My husband and I included) “Except on Sundays”. I knew my indoctrination of Easter had gone too far, when yesterday, as Jack opened his golden wrapped bunny with a little red bow around its neck, revealing not a toy bunny, but an edible chocolate creature, Jack gasped, then said, “OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!” and bit off its little head, chocolate smeared all over his face and hands. Definitely making it on Jacks top ten moments of his first two years of life.
On Saturday, every time I mentioned that “The Easter Bunny is Coming Tonight” Jack would say, “Scary???” and I laughed. The Bunny costume at the park that morning was REALLY scary!! But on Sunday morning when they woke up to stuffed bunnies and chocolate candies I think the memory of Easter will be a good one, not a scary one. I don’t know why I love Easter so much, my mom always did the Easter Baskets, maybe that’s why? I love little animals and chocolate too! And now so do my children. I know it’s probably sacrilegious the way I carried on about Easter, not a mention of Jesus, Good Friday, or Purim. And now I’ve taught my son to say “Oh My God”, not on purpose, I’ve been trying to insert Gosh instead of God, but I guess I’m not consistent enough. Like they say “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 