Murky Waters. Today. Loss. Death. Strange quiet highways. Nap Time. Jack and Fiona will be up soon. House still quiet. Today is the anniversary of my mom’s death. Paintings Murky and dark. Mind murky and dark. News not good. It’s impossible to remove myself from politics and what’s happening in the world. I try to not get affected by it and think, “Maybe it’s going to be O.K.” But then I hear another piece of the puzzle. The picture on the puzzle says War. I hung out with some friends the other day, people I don’t know super well. I started picking up on some things so I asked them who they voted for. “Trump”, my legs get weak. I turn pale. So many thoughts are running through my head. They are nice people and they said they did it for fiscal reasons. They are two out of three people I know who voted for Trump. I’m stumped up on Trump. I think what’s going on in politics is frightening and extremely sad. Today I thought about a conversation I had with my friend’s Israeli mom, she told me Trump was her pick for US president. I asked her why, she said “He will protect Israel.” When I heard the news today about David Friedman becoming the US ambassador to Israel, I realized Palestine was the next Target. It’s sad. We are in a War, and America’s not the good guy. A lot of people around the world are dying and suffering because of us. Trumps agenda will have lots of collateral damage. He’ll align himself with the most powerful, most rich men of the world. They are power hungry, they do not care who they take down along the way. Guns and money always win.
Tag: art
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I’m warmer now, I have on the heater and am drinking a glass of red wine. My children are sleeping, it’s 3:39PM. I hope I have enough time to write: before they wake up, before my husband gets home. Chills run down my back, the top of my left hand is icy cold, outdoors is gloomy and cold. (this weather doesn’t suit me) The trees are losing their leaves, I can see through one tree to the next revealing a complexity of colors. I’ve already decided to order pizza for dinner, haven’t been to the store, don’t plan on going. Especially not after drinking wine. The other day I’m in the grocery store, no bra, painting clothes on, paint on my hands. “Do you know if they have any more pies?” a lady asks me. “Yes, I think there are some in the freezer.” I say. She is uncomfortably familiar to me, am I like her? I wonder. She seems a little crazy, she looks a little crazy. I continue shopping and over by the yogurt area the manager comes up to me to hand me the pie. I tell him, “She’s over there, in the blue shirt, brown hair”. I think he must view us the same, we are oddly similar, even the store manager sees it.
We got on the ferry yesterday, Jack, Fiona, Alan, and I, the Sunday Ferry to the city. I hold Jacks hand, he pulls me from one end of the ship to the other and again and again. We don’t make it past the Ferry terminal, we eat, have coffee, and I buy a few books. It’s too hard, even with my husband there. One minute Jacks right beside me, the next minute he’s somewhere else. It’s nerve racking. We wait for the 12:40 Ferry back to Marin. On the way, back I read all four of the new books to Jack and Fiona. I feel good, I’m a good mom. No ipad, iphone, not for us. I feel like a rebel, a revolutionary, just because I have good old fashioned books. I decide I won’t be taking any more excursions like this for a while. It was a good experience, but just too stressful with toddlers.
I worked in my studio for a short while today, I could go all day if I had a babysitter. I need to. I am so distraught. I need to work, do the only thing that makes sense to me. The ever-present struggle. Today I felt a strange feeling, maybe not so strange, not so unusual. I felt that way when everything changes, the way when something is changing, when it starts to be hard to know who I am. I’ve been reading the news, not participating in any discussions, but staying informed. It’s grim. So Grim. I am practicing sitting with my feelings, living with the uncomfortable feelings. I can’t do anything about any of it, I can only weep and sink into a hole of sadness and despair. I started reading a cheesy book of cheesy quotes before I go to bed, the kind of quotes that talk about how great my body is and how lucky I am to be alive. It helps. Focus on me, each moment, be grateful. I am. I love the babies so much, and am finding myself torn between wanting more time to myself, them driving me crazy, and feeling totally depressed because of how fast they are growing and how those babies are gone, except from my memories and the pictures we look at.
As December moves on maybe I get the sadness from my mom’s death, it’s right around the corner. I don’t want to go to the stores or drive around city streets, feeling the rush and madness of the holiday season. I’m all for getting together and drinking wine, I even want to write x-mas cards and buy a few presents. Meet a friend for a holiday breakfast with Mimosas! But it’s too crazy out there for me. This year I don’t even care about God, I mean last year I was so concerned that I am an atheist and my husband’s families Catholic, and “Oh the tragedy” But this year I don’t even care about that, at all. I’m an atheist, I don’t believe in God and that’s that. I don’t feel guilty about Santa, Jack and Fiona can think what they want. We’re having fun with Santa stories and imagination, and that’s all it is. But it feels like one holiday after another. I feel like x-mas last year wasn’t a year ago. Oh no, and now I want more wine.
O-Well. I feel better. Definitely Better. Warmer. It’s getting dark already. It’s only 4:12pm. This weather doesn’t suit me. Winter is hard. This winter is hard. Wine is good. Wine is good. Red wine. Dark thoughts. I started wondering if China fired a bomb could it hit America? I am really concerned for the world. I almost called an on-line psychologist today, just to talk. I felt I needed to talk. Can you believe I have no one to call? No one to talk to? I need to sit with these feelings. I need to live with my uncomfortable feelings. They are part of me. They are part of life. I shouldn’t have read the news today. Maybe I shouldn’t read the news for the next four years. Am I crazy? I have no one to talk to. No one like me. I shouldn’t be drinking red wine. I’m a bad, bad person. O-well. Call me.
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November engulfs me. It enchants me, spider webs, dampness, creepy crawlies, the cold achy sad bones, memories. Sad ones and happy ones. Mostly quiet ones. Make a few changes, put in the effort. Two paper plate turkey’s look at me with bobble eyes, the dishwasher hums. I worry about my time running out. I worry about what’s ahead of me again. Christmas. I am not a Christmas person. Last year it was definitely cute, seeing Jack and Fiona open their presents. All the sentiment was good. I did the Christmas tree two years in a row. It was beautiful and fun to decorate, see everyone’s excitement. The tree was up last year for two days until Jack and Fiona pulled of the lights and started biting the bulbs. I don’t want to go through what will surely be worse this year. I’m trying to minimize stress; as it is, I feel I’m telling Jack and Fiona “no” all day long. A tree will times that by 100!
I had a fascinating time in my studio today. Although I barely made to my studio day; and almost gave it away by making it a “special day away with Mommy”, (I came to my senses), I painted in blues, forms disappeared into the background. I realized it had been too long since I have painted. Was it Monday? Yesterday was Zoo day. Jack couldn’t wait to see the gorillas and Fiona kept asking to go to the “Family Farm”. Jack looked at the gorillas in all three viewing spots. He was quiet and respectful and observed for a long time. He even stayed behind the rope, after I remined him a few times. We pet, brushed, and fed the goats. We saw: Giraffes, Zebras, Ostriches, monkeys, flamingos, beetles, tarantulas. They played on the playground. It has every different type of slide, climbing structure, tunnels, swings, nets, imaginable. I remember parts of the playground, not that long ago that scared me. I had to stay close by the babies. Mainly carrying Fiona to follow Jack. Yesterday I lost sight of one kid or another several times. I wasn’t afraid of them falling and getting hurt. I tried to keep track as much as possible, but it was really difficult. They were fine.
The other night Jack and Fiona told me they needed to go poop. “O.K. I said, staying in the kitchen. At first it sounded normal. I wondered if I should check up on them, but gave them the benefit of the doubt. I hear laughing, I go in and Fiona has a tiny little piece of toilet paper wiping the toilet seat, which has a thin smear of poop all over it. There is a pile of poop on the floor and poop and pee in the porta potty. Jack is standing in the sink washing poop off his butt.
Jack just called me. They are awake now. Nap Time is over. I am thankful for naptime paintings and writings.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 