*This will be more a personal essay than anything else so you can ignore this week’s post.*

Last week was spent doing other things

Two days were spent reading Gregoire Bouillier’s memoir called The Mystery Guest about meeting his ex-girlfriend, Sophie Calle. It’s been sitting in the closet for a while and it seemed the right time to sit down and actually read it.

She turned his breakup letter into an artpiece, called Take Care of Yourself, where she had 107 women reinterpret it. I’m finding myself more fascinated with her artwork and how she shifts her own biography with it.

I’m also equally fascinated with Annette Messager after I did a report about her in an art class in college, but not as much as before.

In that same class, for an art project, I put everything every ex at that point gave me on display. The teacher sat back with me as we watched and listened to everyone talking. Never had so many people pissed off at me in the same room, although no one yelled at me afterwards. Once you give something to someone, it ceases to be yours. They can do whatever they please with it.

I’ve begun writing a short story (or however long it’ll turn out) and find the inability to focus on anything much else beyond what happened with the past couple months.

I rarely want to go into deeply personal as this blog is strictly to document creative projects, but touched on this last week.

I was dating someone on and off for the past three years and he dumped me in early September then got engaged to his best friend 19 days later. He’s in the Army and I assume that’s a common thing to constantly shift between relationships.

There was never full closure except for him saying, a week after the engagement, I blew it so I can’t tell him what to do. That and she gets college paid for and he gets a babysitter for his son. That second one is illegal but whatever.  He did tell me two years again, “because I have a kid, I need a wife.” We were actually engaged twice but he never put a ring on my finger either time. We also didn’t make it Facebook official unlike with his best friend.

It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s doing exactly what he did to me, he’s doing to her. He’s a sex addict and his arrogance will catch up to him eventually. I wrote a letter about the whole relationship to his mother but she’s in denial about her son being anything but perfect. Him, his best friend and his mother all blocked me on Facebook because I’m a crazy shit starter. I only intentionally wanted the best friend to block me. My main intention was to inform, not to hurt. Hope his mother keeps custody of his son. Karma has a way of evening things out but I care about the kid getting hurt in the middle of it all.  I also befriended the kid’s mom and she seems like such a nice person that I want to help her. Seeing her hurt sucks.

The only way I can concentrate is by writing it all down and I’m going to compile everything, with all his texts and messages into book form so it’ll be off my computer. I don’t feel I can fully move onto something new unless I can close this chapter.

Most of last week was spent looking for receipts and objects that I kept. I’m sentimental so I like reminders. I’m keeping the lingerie and heels, but the rest can go. Yes, even keeping his birthday present lingerie. Some lucky bastard will benefit off that.

I have to clean up this week after the mess and piles made.

Okay. Are you still with me?

I was only able to do one thing. There’s pile of sewing projects under the sewing table and found pieces of a dress.

The outer and inner lining main dress assembled and ready to attach to each other. Don’t have a neckline for the dress so ought to do that first before assembling it all together.

The waist needs to be adjusted because my waist it higher than where the waistband is located.