and now I’ma take pics and blog about it

So I’ve been working on this for a while. There are a lot of components here… The weird little gremlins who live in the cage — they are Anxiety and Depression. I made a girly, flowery bed to put them in when I’m done with them, but as with all things when it comes to me, it can’t be contained. I wish it looked as cool in pictures as it does in person, but maybe that’s part of the beauty of it.

Weekend Update

I was super duper productive. The only creative endeavor I didn’t undertake was writing, which I guess I’m doing now, so yeah. But I do have a novel idea! One that doesn’t seem like hypomanic psychobabble, so yay me!

Okay, first of all I decorated Christmas cookies for the first time in a friend’s class. I love them so much — even the ones that suck! I was able to get out of my head and risk being imperfect, and I wasn’t socially awkward for once. Major successes! Plus, COOKIES. Come on!

I also started on my Christmas presents to everyone — these cute little Pinterest faceless elves made of polymer clay.

I shall paint them and name them Squishy and they shall be my Squishy. I was super stressed about an affordable, unique and homemade gift for the million people I know…and then these little dudes came along! Happy days.

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I also did a weird doodle. Several, but this is the one that made the cut.

If you can’t tell, I like to either keep busy or sleep. There is almost no in between. But I am a person who can keep busy wondering about whether or not there’s a secret world in deep ocean water. Or maybe it leads to deep space, like a wormhole. Or heaven, since we are all made mostly of water and that seems to make some kind of spiritual sense.

Yeah, you see?

The fight for you is all I’ve ever known

I have a hard time letting go.

There was the Barbie that was my very favorite with big purple eyes. Because she was my favorite she was also my little sister’s (the highest form of flattery, they attempted to convince me) and my mom gave the doll to her — probably because I was getting “too old” to play with dolls… I haven’t forgotten about it, or my absolute RAGE.

I put nails in the driveway to try and flat tire my cousin out of going back home to Illinois. I had a really short sighted idea of how that would play out — that she would magically be made to stay forever because of a nail in a tire. Speaking of which, I forced myself to throw up and make a big scene at McCarren Airport in effort to keep my internet boyfriend with me just a little bit longer. And it worked. Back then they let you do things like hop on a later flight and sit with your loved ones at the terminal.

Sometimes lyrics inspire me. I liked this one…I put it at the top. I hope it inspires you. It prompted one more memory in me, but that one will forever be a secret. I promise it’s just as twisted, dark and weird.

It occurs to me that my bipolar diagnosis makes a lot of sense. Insert emoji happy/crying face.

sometimes…

I really have no idea what to say. I don’t know if it’s the medication or just part of the human experience, but all my wit and wonder has dried up. Or maybe now that I am “normal,” I realize it was the mania driving my creativity.

I mean, I’m being dramatic. I’m writing right now and if you ask my husband I’m always writing. But now something feels off. Foreign. Like a new freckle — no, too innocuous — like waking up without an arm.

This strange new world has also affected my art. I can’t think of any paintings lately. Others may tell me to sit down, free style paint and be okay with whatever comes out — but they don’t understand that when Coleymojo sits down to paint she starts with a dain`ty water color type thing and ends up wrist deep finger painting with all sides of the color wheel in on the action.

Anyway, what I HAVE done is a creepy, useless sculpture.

And I love her! I almost want to do nothing else with her but have her beside my bed and call her my muse. I like holding onto her, feeling the smooth spots interrupted by a rough patch… I remember when I built her bones of wire, and how my fingers hurt trying to shape it. At one point her leg fell off. And then I was SO excited to put the clay on — I thought that would be the easy part but I spent days twisting and turning her, pushing fat around, until I looked at her one day and said, “I know we’re not done, but we’re done.”

And then I stuck her in the oven and tried not to cry. Would she survive? But this girl is a badass. Unfortunately for her the saying goes, out of the oven and into the frier…which in this case was my drunken ass dripping paint all over her with exactly zero plans.

Good times.

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(And I guess I was being dramatic about the painting too, because I did this at a class.)