Monday, November 23, 2015

give up the ghost

People always ask me if I have a favorite Radiohead song, and I usually say "Yes, all of them." While that's mostly true (I can't pick one favorite, don't be insane) I have a very serious, special soft spot for Weird Fishes/Arpeggi. This song. This song is everything. When I am sad or lonely or hopeless or depressed or despondent and shattered over something, someone, some loss or broken fantasy or dashed hope, this. When I've followed another phantom to the end of the Earth, when I fall off, this is what I listen to. This is how I get home. This song brings me back to myself.

In the deepest ocean
The bottom of the sea
Your eyes
They turn me
Why should I stay here
Why should I stay
I'd be crazy not to follow
Follow where you lead
Your eyes
They turn me
Turn me on to phantoms
I follow to the end of the Earth
And fall off

I'm struggling lately with things being thrilling and fast and exciting and happy and terrifying and overwhelming simultaneously. I suppose that's the nature of change and growth. When the things you fear come to pass, then the fear is smaller and behind you and suddenly, eventually, it's powerless and everything is different. Everything is okay, and it's good. Somehow, after everything, I made it to the place I want to go, or I can see it, and I'm inside the gates. Life is manifesting the things and people I need and want, and I am anxious and nervous about what happens then? What do you do when the struggle is over and you win?

You keep going.

It's never over. You fight to stay alert and hungry and positive and open. Your new battle is with apathy and complacency and the idea that somehow you don't deserve to have the things you need. You find the people who deserve to be inside your sphere and you bypass those who don't. You go inside and trust yourself the most. There is already nothing missing. Nothing has ever been missing, because you are whole and complete as you are. Right now. In this world, where you are real.

I am discovering that the things I thought were true about my understanding of love and romance and needs and desires are not the same as what they used to be, or what I expected they should be. Everything changes instantly and I can only say yes. I am done fighting for a perfection that doesn't exist. I am not afraid of the dark. I am fully in control of my choices and faculties and life, and when I go off the rails, it's on purpose because I chose to go. The dark is where my power lies. I know what happens next, so what will I choose? How do we navigate in the dark? How do we let go of guilt and fear and shame and trust that we always get what we need? How do we always love ourselves the most and never submit that? Not for anyone.

We let go. We give up the ghost. We move forward.

I can feel my brain adapting and changing and learning every day. We are evolving at a rate that is palpable. The plasticity is tangible, these microfuzz dopamine buzzes coming in over and over and over. We are electric. Notifications make us little rabbits, running from app to app to app to site to site, refresh, renew, push the button and get the pellet. Someone new has new electricity, different danger, unknown secrets.

More. Again. Show me.

We hide and then overexpose because it's taboo and indulgent and that love drug our brains make is really good. We elaborate and invent and pose and fabricate. Isolation and connection, trust and betrayal, attention and disappearance. Games and theory. We are all ghosts, chasing a perfection we will never have or be. We are desperate for connection and safety and controlled demolitions. The pendulum swings from addiction to obsession to clarity to gratitude. Around and around and around. Burn me down, blow me up, take me apart. Put me back together.

It's never the worst though. Nothing will ever be so bad. Not the worst things. Not with these scars. This edge is familiar, because this is where I have always lived. Out here, walking the line but not going over. Wrapped in ropes in case I fall, and because that's where I am safe to push the edge. The world can disappear, sideways, backwards, and I will survive and grow and be stronger, because that's what I do. I am built to withstand nuclear fallout. The edge is wide and deep and underground leads to my secret room. There are so many secret rooms, but this one is mine. You've got one too. We all do. How far inside can you go?

Ghosts only haunt you if you let them. There is always someone else.  Find another door. And bury your fucking phone in a hole and set it on fire, then run directly into the sea and feel alive.

Thursday, November 19, 2015

epically fuckable

Queen of Sheba, Mark Gertler

Oh boy, y'all. Mama is riled up.  I have something to say about being the tortoise who works so hard to gain self acceptance and live in her own reality. Sometimes other people are casually cruel and mean and give you no credit because they only live in their shallow world of traditional, generic beauty. Sometimes, what you have done, what you are, your journey, is still not quite inside the borders of what society drills into us as acceptable and lovable and fuckable.

Age and physical beauty are huge, dark hurdles women must come up against every day. We fight ourselves, the voices we have inside ourselves that say we aren't good enough to be loved. The truth is that even if you get closer to "ideal", when you are flying and feeling your highest, best self, someone will always try to knock you down. Someone will look at your heart and body and mind and only see the outside and find you squishy and soft and instead of knowing your strong, infinite softness is sexy and unlimited in it's ability to receive care and give comfort and pleasure, he will find it off-putting and foreign and feel like he has an ownership of your self worth. He will offer to engage with you in spite of your deep, ancient beauty instead of because of it.

And to this, we say no.


We, the soft, curvy, strong, voluptuous, Rubenesque-bodied goddesses, we epically fuckable women, decry your modern aversion to our pulsing, aching, fleshy hotness. We refuse your mansplained ideas of what feels good and looks good and tastes good. Because, shallow, boring men, you don't have a fucking clue how to really please and satisfy our dark desires. You mistakenly believe that somehow when your attention is lavished on us, that you are doing us a favor, because we are alone and needy and desperate for your crumbs of attention.

Let me set the record straight: We don't want to fuck you. The curvy, dark, slutty, vixen contingent says an easy "No thanks, ignorant friend." We don't have time for your bullshit ideas about beauty and sex because we are too busy loving our bodies, delighting in living inside them, and giving ourselves intimately, intellectually, emotionally, completely, to souls who gaze upon us with the adoration and expertise we require. We are worshipped by those who know that pleasure and ecstasy and intimacy are built in the mind and electrified in the skin, that there is no perfect physical "type" that can fulfill true romantic and sexual oblivion. Those who know, they receive the gift of our adoration because they find us delicious in every way, flawless, and therefore we cannot help ourselves. Because they deserve it. And more so because we do.

If you want to be adored by women, put her in a soft cocoon of your adoration and love. Stop trying to make us all the same, and stop imagining that some impossible body will make you more of a man. Accept her as she accepts herself. Love her without condition. Your reward will be that you will ride on the wings of a butterfly, if she chooses to let you.

You're fucking welcome.

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

help me lose my mind

Humans have always sought out oblivion. We're wired to push the limits, and then to pull back, to rest, to reflect, to restrain, to tune out. Even sleep is a result of that need, to function and process and then disintegrate into the ether of our subconscious dreams. Magic, ritual, and religion have been bound together by this primal urge since we began walking upright in the jungles and started trying out what nature had to offer. Psychotropic plants, for example. "This one made Mary see the heavens!" "Oh, this one killed Bill, better not." You know, on repeat, for billions of years. It took our ancestral psychonauts a long time to get us here.

Since the evolution of consciousness, of deliberate thought, of awareness of the self, we've sought ways and means to escape ourselves and turn it off. Religion itself seems to have sprung from this mystical desire to know the beginning and end of everything, while still simultaneously holding the ripcord, hand hovering on the escape hatch lever. We want in and we want out, always. We want there to be a reason for this life, for yours and mine, for all the lives, for this planet, this space, this time. For us.

We want to know the why, and sometimes we can't handle it. Sometimes the mundane, the repetition, the certain rush toward the inevitable end becomes too much. Ignorance IS bliss. What if there's nothing else? What if there is? What if this is a dream? What if I missed my chance? What if my chance never comes? What if this barrage of self-doubt never ends? What if rejection keeps playing on repeat? What if this is me killing it and I don't even know it? What if it never gets better? What if it does? What if I get everything I want? Then what? What if the best time in my life is over? What if it isn't?

Luckily, modern life has an exceptional array of paths to escape the normal flow of consciousness, probably more are available now than ever at any other time in human history. Most of us use at least a few every day, and some days we use a lot of different ones. We use things like caffeine and music and food to comfort, stimulate, and satisfy every day. A lot of us use alcohol and drugs and sex and exercise to escape regularly, ideally occasionally, but honestly, often desperately.  We do this, day in, day out, for years. This is where we start getting into that grey area where the things we use to soothe and salve can start making sores themselves. What felt fun and healing now feels like a scary, powerful vice we can't get out from underneath. The problem solver becomes the problem.

Deep down we all know getting altered doesn't solve anything but blacking you out of time. Everything is always right where you left it.  Sometimes, often, bigger and blacker than before because you've got an addiction or a habitual ritual screaming in your ear as well. It's a pause button at best. So you have to decide how many times you want to get kicked out of paradisaical bliss and back into your reality and problem mountain.

It's okay to want to let go. It's okay to want to check out. It's okay to want relief and respite. It's okay to crave silence and ego loss and the calm tranquility of ocean inside our heavy, bleeding hearts. So how can we achieve this release, this catharsis, with the least amount of permanent damage to ourselves? How can we build a reality that is wonderful and fulfilling so that we don't need to run away from it or ourselves? How can we run into the feelings instead of away from them?

The short answer: Try a new drug.

Listen. You know what hurts you and what heals you. Chances are that when the escape you seek is causing pain and suffering, there's another way to get what you want and need, a better way, a more natural way that brings out your best, highest self. Find what serves you, and jettison the rest.

This is where mindfulness comes into play. When I first started learning about it, I assumed it was solely about finding ways to be more present in the moment (it is), but my understanding has grown to include a much wider realm of what we are truly seeking when we talk about mindfulness.

That oblivion instinct kicks in for a lot of us when we are trying to cope with something painful or hard. Rejection, disappointment, loss, grief, sadness, stress. It doesn't have to be a massive thing, and is often the habits of daily life that wear us down. Those scripts we run work on autopilot. So if you train your brain to seek solace in a bottle of whiskey or a fast food burger bag, and you do that enough times, you will automatically reach for those things in times of stress and trouble, without even thinking. This is mindless habit. We do this with food and booze and TV and life, we choose once and forget it and let the script run.

We give up everything to the bliss of forgetting. Because it seems easier. (It's not. Not really.)

Eventually, some of these oblivious escapes become destructive to our health, our mental clarity, our physical well being, and our rich emotional lives. Being sedated hurts because we become unable to feel the wonder of our lives. Simple human connection becomes terrifying and we live inside a bubble of fear.

We want to stop, but we don't know how because we are on autopilot. We feel stuck in a pattern of behavior that seems like we have no control over it. But we do. We always have a choice, and it just takes practice to retrain yourself to choose to run the program that heals instead of hurts. Our minds work best and we are most efficient when we don't have to spend precious resources like willpower on making choices about whether or not we drink or eat or go to the gym. If you have to think about something all the time, you turn it over and over and examine every possibility, the chance of you getting to your desired behavior is much more difficult than if you take that choice away.

So what's the trick? Well, add in little things. Instead of quitting bad behaviors, create some new good ones. Meditation and yoga and walking are all places where you can learn how to choose a different adventure. Choose once, and follow the script. Repeat. After a month or so, it becomes a new habit. Then, while you may sometimes try on that old set of clothes, it doesn't feel right anymore. You have successfully created a new coping mechanism. This is especially effective with negative and habitual behaviors or ways of reacting to situations or people. You can learn to spend your time in more fulfilling ways. You can go deeper and try new things you've never experienced. This may mean facing pain and discomfort straight on, but it also means you'll get that catharsis that comes from enduring something and growing. You just don't walk out of a class at the gym full of regret.

For me, I got tired of fighting with myself and dulling out,so I decided to learn to own my intense ability to feel. Vulnerability is now my superpower. I had to process many old, lingering and painful realities to get through to the other side. Now, I am able to choose to open myself to feeling and connection and experience. I befriended my body and began to love it intensely, so that it offers me endless pleasure and capability, and enables me to be in the world in a way I am grateful for every day. I take care of it and I listen to it. I know when I'm straying outside of where I want to be and I adjust. I breathe. I am able to choose new edges to push and explore that awaken me rather than dull me to my life experience.

What else is out there to feel? What will I get to do next? Who will show me?

The best way to really lose your mind is by finding it.

Thursday, October 22, 2015

all the way

“If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don't even start. If you're going to try, go all the way. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. Go all the way. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery--isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you'll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you're going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. Do it. Do it. Do it. All the way. All the way. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It's the only good fight there is.”
― Charles BukowskiFactotum

Making drastic life changes is a dicey process with countless twists and turns and stops and starts. At the beginning, trails are welcoming, wide and flat and winding, paved with optimism and good intentions and hope. The dark forest paths are tree-lined with time and space for conversation and dialogue and consideration of things like obligation and loyalty and how it's always been. How you've always been. It's slow, the change. Gradual. You start to break a sweat. What if what I'm doing upsets other people? What if my trip hurts your ideas or feelings about me? What if some people don't like the way I change?

Slowly, eventually,  you realize you are completely and utterly lost. You have to double back and start again in a different direction. Is it this way? No, maybe this way? Is that the sun? OH MY GOD I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE SUN IS! AM I DEAD? DO YOU HAVE SNACKS? WHY AM I YELLING? You waste time walking in circles talking to yourself, cursing this stupid, gigantic, epic mountain. You get angry, frustrated, anxious. You scream and yell at the trees for not helping you. You curse the sky and the earth. You drink too much coffee. You stay up all night. You keep going. You don't want to be in this part. This part is hard. You try to be patient. You try to remember that you will get through this. You try to make the best of it. You think you are making the best of it.

Then one day, seemingly out of nowhere, you get attacked by a vicious goddamn grizzly bear who wants to make sure you know who is in charge of the forest. The bear scares you, surprises you, and makes you cry. Perhaps you've got some bear scratches that are bleeding. You become defensive and angry and wonder if the bear is right. Maybe you are not behaving the way you should be.  Maybe you're never getting out of here. Maybe this mountain is inside a zoo and you're going to be trapped here until you die alone with a bunch of zebras and giraffes that eat all your carrots and don't even let you play with them.

Look, you can't blame a bear for being a bear. Bears only know how to bear. That dumb bear doesn't know shit about you and your mountain climbing skills. Or this forest and who is the boss of it. Or the world outside this little enclave. That bear doesn't have the deep life experience you have. She doesn't know how hard you fight to show up to life every day and be a better human being than you were the day before. That bear doesn't know how many times you've chosen to be your best self over your base self, how hard you work to be kind and empathetic and friendly and helpful and smart and compassionate to others, but mostly to yourself. That bear doesn't know anything about why you are on this godforsaken mountain. She can't fathom not being a bear, or that maybe you actually  aren't a fucking bear yourself, maybe you want to be a lioness or a pterodactyl or some kind of flying phoenix pegasus dragon that gives zero fucks about what's happening inside this sad little bear cave.

You're just passing through, and nothing that's happening here - these things, this waiting that seems so hard and unbearable - is going to last.

Today is the day. Now is when you choose what happens next. How bad do you want to make a change? How much do you want to see the top of this mountain?  You could decide to let the bear rip you apart. You could sit down and cry and give up. You could run back down the mountain with hurt feelings and just stay still and build a little hut in a valley and hope the bear stays in her stupid cave and leaves you alone. Or, you could ignore the negative, bullshit-slinging bear and remember your goals. You are going to the top. All the way. Do it.

Do it.

The thing about climbing mountains is that the higher you go, the better and stronger you get, the narrower the path becomes.The more people tell you you can't keep going. It gets harder. Steeper. Sometimes, it's only wide enough for one at a time. The more times you fall down and scrape your knees, the more bear attacks your survive, the better you learn about how to cope in the future. The more time you spend working on your forward motion, the more you befriend yourself. You discover all the things you are carrying that you don't need.You begin to drop weight.

You begin to forgive yourself. You let go of things and people that don't serve you. You identify toxicity in environments and you plan your escape.

You heal up from an aggressive attack and realize that's about them, not you. You learn what's worth fighting for and what's worth ignoring. You stop caring about what insignificant people think about your choices and actions. You know you are honoring the highest and best in yourself when you are climbing.

You drop expectations and you climb higher.

You begin to realize your only obligation, your only loyalty, is to yourself. Fuck what anyone thinks. You know how strong you've become, how much you can take. How much you have to give and what you can create and share.

You reject limitations and climb faster.

You have time to reflect on your progress, the entire journey up to the bottom of the mountain. You are empowered. You have overcome so much. SO MUCH. Broken pieces stop shattering and you start reforming like T-1000  in Terminator. Liquid metal. Unbreakable. Unstoppable. You are nimble. Determined. You are going all the way to the top. There is no going back to the beginning. There is only forward. There is only sky. You can only get to the top and fly. You are a magical fucking flying tortoise.

Bears. Give me a fucking break.

Saturday, October 10, 2015


It's October and even though some days summer still hangs on to the afternoon, those waves of oppressive heat have been replaced with perfectly cool mornings and night breezes the same temperature as your skin. Trees are casually beginning to drop leaves and acorns and bits of organic ephemera. We are entering the season of magic in Central Texas, from now until May or so, where everything cools out and gets real fucking nice. This is my favorite time of year because it's always been a time of renewal and resetting. I always feel relief and comfort knowing cold is coming and bringing this energy that anything and everything wonderful is going to happen.

This time last year, I was not confident. I was sad and broken and deflated. There was a time during the end of my last relationship and just after where I wasn't sure if I would ever get my self esteem and pizazz back. I couldn't find it. I had stopped doing all the things I do to make sure I take care of myself, and I was just doing things that made me numb to my situation. Shit was dire and stayed that way for a long time. I felt hopeless. I felt like it was going to be summer in the desert forever.

Being lost on your career path or stuck in a terrible relationship or just feeling listless and directionless and lost for years feels very demoralizing. When something finally starts to click, it's incredibly empowering and exhilarating.  It's like coming alive again, but better. It's first breath after coma. It's realizing the entire world is open to you because you decide it is. We spend our childhoods believing we can be anything, and then we lose that. We learn we can't do something, and we tell that story. We tell ourselves we can't because we are not good enough, or we aren't thin enough, or smart enough or male enough. We believe the lies and we just stop trying because that is less painful than just saying fuck it and jumping into the fire. Fire burns. Fire destroys.

Someone I met very recently told me, "You've got that charisma." I've always taken that compliment as a high honor, because I think being perceived as charismatic happens for me when I have my shit together and I'm doing my best job at being my best self. Learning to code has given me something to work on and for, a tangible goal with projects and checkpoints where I can see my self getting better, faster, stronger, smarter. I'm fucking good at it! Regardless of what happens in the immediate future in my career, taking this class has reminded me that I can do anything. It's not too late to make drastic, big things happen. It's never too late. I can learn anything and go anywhere and be who I want to be. Not only is a window of opportunity open, they're all open. The doors are off the hinges and the walls are falling down. This sad little "I can't" house is burning to the ground because it's too goddamn small to hold me inside it. I'm building a skyscraper to the moon. All by myself.

When I get involved in something that lights my fire, I am naturally excited, motivated, determined, and I just get all the way into it. I genuinely like things, and I like to be around other people who like things and who are doing exciting things. I always thought in order to love someone, I had to tone down my own needs and give all I have to that person. I thought that love was about caring more for someone else than yourself. I thought you had to earn that kind of thing back.

Balls to that nonsense. Just fuck that.

I've learned that the only way I can maintain my own charisma is to turn that energy inward and not give it away. There is no relationship or person who can give me what I can give myself.  You have to hold your own star. Always. Carrying another person is exhausting. You have to give all your love to yourself first. If I had all the energy I spent trying to chase after people who were wrong for me, I could have burned this stupid little house down years ago. But, I also firmly believe that life teaches you what you need to know when you need to learn it. I couldn't be here had I not been there. Confidence is learning from experience. Charisma is believing in yourself enough not to quit, not to give up, and not to listen to the lies your own dumb defeatist brain is telling you. Then, confidence snowballs on itself and you get bold. You start believing a little more, and fear gets a little smaller. You realize you are amazing at talking to everyone, because you're just being yourself, which is all you ever need to do. No one is born knowing how to be bad ass, you have to practice. You have to fail. All the time. I failed at like five things today and then I fixed my own brake lights in a parking lot like a fucking rockstar mechanic.

Fear is what makes us care about what other people think. When you are burning your own fire, your glow attracts the right people, the good ones, the big hearted, strong, smart, kind, magical people who will stay near you because they want to make your fire bigger. They are the builders of skyscrapers too. The best people don't try to put out your light, they combine theirs with yours so the whole world can see it. Do what inspires you. Don't wait until you know what you're doing. Don't let perfection be the enemy of progress. Do it now. Start today. Light your charisma fire inside, and watch the walls of fear melt down to nothing. Be your best self.

Tuesday, September 22, 2015


I don't know if this is actually a picture of two supermassive black holes colliding, but it looks like some serious space shit is going down, so I'm going with it.

A couple days ago I read this article about how two supermassive black holes are set to collide with a force that could, according to some expert level smart Colombian astronomers with training in actual physics, "disturb the fabric of space-time."

Holy shit. 

Firstly, how completely amazing is it that we can observe two black holes that are billions of light years away from Earth with some kind of accuracy that allows us to predict this will happen? That blows my peon human mind! Secondly, um, that doesn't seem good really. Is that close? Should we like, move out of the way? Is Matthew McConaughey going to be involved somehow? Because please no. Oh right, also, we have about 100,000 years before it happens. But they are still super excited because they did some epic science. Those scientists are having a really good week.

Right, so big deal, some space nerds are all jazzed up about a thing that's not going to happen remotely soon, and yet, they know it's coming. The signs are all there. The black holes in the constellation Virgo are beginning to do that twisty space dance and spin around each other, only one light week apart. Which a basically eleventy million billion years. So. fucking. cool. 

I'm like a supermassive black hole on a collision course with destiny with only a million years to go. Today was my one year anniversary at my current job and I was bummed out all day about it. I'm not doing what I know I should be doing career wise, and I haven't been for a long time. Ever. I'm trying to learn as much as I can and be positive about where I'm going, but I want it to happen faster. Today brought up a lot of memories about where I was this time last year and the year before. I've been in recovery mode, trying to find my way back to the path,  and in the process realized I need a new path, and found that instead. Nine months ago, I was completely destroyed. Six months ago, I was coming back to life, but spinning out of control, and I had no idea where I would land, or if I would make it. Since then, I've been learning how to balance and what kinds of things I need to do to nurture my best self. I traveled, I friended, I returned to rituals that have always served me, and I begrudgingly, then gracefully, let go of the things that don't.  I'm still letting go. 

Sometimes we forget how to dance and instead of remembering what we knew before, we have to learn new steps. Sometimes it takes longer than we want it to, and it hurts more than we can bear. It's hard to admit when we're wrong about a job or a person or something we were excited about that we thought would make all the difference. It's tough to watch those mistakes and failures and trips and falls pile up over time. Some days, it feels like nothing is moving forward and everything is at a standstill. Some days, it feels like it's too late, that all your chances and opportunities are gone, and that things will always be how they are. Some days it feels like those dead stars are never going to collide and make a new universe that will rip open the fabric of space-time.

But they will eventually. 

Time changes our place in the world, and our perception of ourselves and how we want to behave and breathe in it. It's the only thing that you can count on. Nothing is ever permanent, everything is in flux, and we are always changing and growing. We always have another chance to turn it all around. 

Patience. A thing life makes me learn over and over and over. Be the magical tortoise and you will win. I know, I know. 

You know that experiment in the 60s where they gave little kids a treat and told them that if they ate it right away, they would only get the one, but if they held out just for a while, they'd get two or more. The Marshmallow Test. Well, the kids who waited almost always have better life outcomes across the board. They are healthier, thinner, less prone to depression and addiction, they are even smarter. I definitely wouldn't have eaten a marshmallow, because marshmallows are disgusting fluffy balls of chemical goo, and I hate them. But if a grown adult person put a cookie in front of me when I was 3, I really don't know how I would have held out for two cookies. I mean, it's right there, guy. Don't tell me eating this delicious cookie means I'm going to be an idiot. You're an asshole for depriving an adorable child of a sugary cookie. Shut up.

I've never been known for my delicate and moderate impulses. When we were kids and had done something dumb, my dad would say "If she asked you to jump off a cliff with her would you do that too?" And I would really have to think about the answer, because, fuck yeah, let's jump off a cliff! I like adventure. I want to go fast and fly high. I always have. I want life big and bold and full of all the feels you can stand, and then some more on top of that. And I want them now. Right now. Everything all of the time.  

Am I Veruca Salt?!?! FUCK THAT NOISE
Absolutely no one wants to be Veruca Salt. She's bossy and mean and fixated on the worst thing in the whole Chocolate Factory. Who cares about those eggs, you moron! Be nice to your sweaty dad for once, brat. Pay attention, Veruca, you are missing everything. No, no, everyone wants to be Charlie. Sweet, patient, deserving Charlie with his adorable, innocent heart. Well, I'm not Charlie either. The truth is, I'm the kid who was trying to get people to jump off the cliff. I'm the bad influence, the girl who pushes boundaries, who wants to live inside the chocolate factory with a bunch of orange Oompa Loompas.

I'm Willy Wonka. Obviously.

Sorry my boat ride scarred you for life, kids. For the rowers keep on rowing!

This went off into a totally weird tangent, but not really, because Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is an excellent metaphor for trusting the process. I just started an intense coding boot camp that is taking up all my time and brain power. It's my catalyst for change that I have needed for such a long time. It's hard. And I absolutely love it. It's easy to berate yourself when you finally do find something that clicks. Why didn't I do this earlier? I've wasted so much time. 


Time is never wasted. You are always exactly where you need to be. Things take a long time because they are supposed to, because we need them to in order to learn how to move forward. You stay where you are until you have what you need, then you can go to the next thing or person or place or job or adventure. We have to trust the process, and keep an eye out for the catalysts that propel us forward, even if it's only baby steps at a time. Nothing catches fire without the spark. We are not too old or too busy or too anything to do something new. Never, ever stop being excited about learning and growing, in whatever shape or form that takes for you. Everyone we meet has something to teach us, even if that's only that we are too goddamn special to be sad over the past. Take care of yourself and everything will happen. Don't wait until you're ready or have more time. Do it now. Jump off the cliff and figure out you can fly. Supermassive black hole collision in 3....2......1.


PS - I've been writing a lot of code and spending hours reading about semantics and CSS, so this is music for that. 

Thursday, September 17, 2015


“What if I forgave myself even though I'd done something I shouldn't have? What if I was a liar and a cheat and there was no excuse for what I'd done other than because it was what I wanted and needed to do? What if I was sorry, but if I could go back in time I wouldn't do anything differently than I had done? What if I'd actually wanted to fuck every one of those men? What if heroin taught me something? What if yes was the right answer instead of no? What if what made me do all those things everyone thought I shouldn't have done was what also had got me here? What if I was never redeemed? What if I already was?”                                                            ― Cheryl StrayedWild

Modern success stories always go the same way. Some formerly overweight, addicted, sad, single, hopeless, directionless woman who has lost 200 pounds and kicked heroin is sitting in her tastefully decorated apartment next to her ratty old fatpants promoting her new travel weight loss blog which is now her full time job. Her cookbook is coming out next month in hardcover, and she'll be on a book tour through Europe in the spring. Her emotionally intelligent, extremely attractive, sexually experienced life partner she met buying heirloom beets at the farmers market is by her side. He works in tech and loves to cook and snuggle and do laundry. She's healthy, fit, confident, beautiful, creative, and everyone is waiting with baited breath to find out how she did it.

"What's your secret, amazing, perfect woman? How did you lose 200 pounds in a year? Did you really run two marathons last month? Are you planning your DIY wedding on Pinterest? What's your recipe for humane hobo hummus burgers?  It's sooooo romantic that you guys do acro yoga together. I totally want to start a food and travel blog, I just haven't had the time, do you have any tips? How do I get thin and beautiful and find my dream job and my soul mate? What kind of mascara do you recommend? I'm sorry, just one more question, HOW CAN I GET YOUR PERFECT LIFE? "

And the answer is always the same.

"I just woke up one day and realized I didn't want to live that way anymore."  There's always a couple paragraphs about how she just started eating a few vegetables instead of entire large pizzas from Domino's, and just suddenly stopped wanting heroin, like cold turkey. After a few trips to the gym, she discovered she loves Pilates and kickboxing, and running 20 miles every two days. She can't believe how she just forgets to eat sometimes now.  It was easy from there, the blog and cookbook just wrote themselves because so many people identified with her journey. And she met Blane Blandwell, dreamy tech chef sex god emotional empath just by accident because it was meant to happen that way. Soulmates. It was easy!

Oh my god, just fuck right off.

I'm sure there are some people who are able to jettison their negative habits, self harming addictions, bad behavior, self loathing, and emerge from the metamorphosis a delicate butterfly all in one go because they just decide to do it. Sure. That's a thing. That just doesn't happen to me because I'm not trying hard enough or buying the right products or going to the right fucking beet stand.

Changing yourself isn't a straight line to jackpot city that happens because you want it to kind of.

What's the real story?

What does it look like to decide to take off the mask and choose authenticity and live the life you know is true inside instead of the one you built to hide your pain?

Where does that start?

Isn't it more accurate to admit that progress, growth, permanent, meaningful change is a fucking slog, a daily Fight Club where we are bleached blond Jared Leto getting his face destroyed most days? It is days that feel wasted in jobs we hate, forcing ourselves onto the spinning bike after sitting in the parking lot for 15 minutes thinking about how much better it would be to be watching Fringe right now. It's moving into half pigeon pose in yoga and crying quietly because you feel such an intense emotional release and you will never see your father again. It's immediately doing wheel for the first time in 13 years right after that, because YOU ARE A POWERFUL, STRONG MOTHERFUCKING EARTH GODDESS.

Progress is eating two Tiff's Treats in a row instead of drinking six drinks at a bar and fucking a stranger because you can't feel anything. It's getting knocked down by disappointment, rejection, heartbreak, and indifference a thousand times and still being able to say "I think you're magical" and mean it, even if no one ever says that to you.  Success is getting far away from your worst days , becoming smug, then finding yourself right back and the fucking base of the mountain again because you just weren't paying attention.

Growth is learning how to adapt, meaning there is no one answer, no set of instructions to guide you through to the end. You have to adjust for the person you become, because that person needs different whys than the you from ten years ago. You have to just keep going, even when it seems impossible to exist. When you throw your love into the ocean and she comes right back to you, like a boomerang, and you let her, because you have no regrets.

I didn't start trying to change myself because I wanted to be fancy and beautiful and admired. I wanted character and integrity. I wanted to be a person people could count on. I wanted to do work that matters. I wanted to build a family of people who I love and who love me, so we could take care of each other in this heap of wires. I didn't know how to help other people so I just decided to help myself.  I wanted to wake up in the morning and feel like I deserved another day on this planet, and I wanted to be present for it.

For most people, their rock bottom isn't some kind of near death hell that can be fixed with a fad diet or a few days at the gym. It's quiet desperation and prolonged suffering. Success doesn't just knock on your door, not even after years of trying to invite it in. You have to go looking for it. You have to get a goddamn scalpel and cut the monster out of your chest while you're wide awake, and then do it again when it comes back. And again. And again. And again.

I spent years running away from the worst parts of myself, trying to bury them, drug them, ignore and deny and not feel so much. Not feel anything.

What did failure teach me?  It taught me that I am strong beyond belief, wise beyond my years, and that my heart has no bounds, my love has no limits. Nothing can break me permanently. The only way to lose is to stop giving a shit, and for me, that's impossible because life is too fantastic to miss.

Not feeling is not something I am capable of. I would have to be dead. I have been dead. I have gone into the far reaches of my heart and soul and mind and understood that vulnerability and intuition are gifts. It took ages of trying to drown myself to realize I can breathe underwater. I can breathe in space. I can go into the light and the dark and disappear and find myself again. Empathy, compassion, curiosity, authenticity,  fearlessness - these are my superpowers, my best parts. As I struggle through the hard things, I realized that my monsters and my power come from the same place.  My scars and my wounds are where I carry my wisdom. My skinned knees and patchwork heart hold all my love.  And it only gets bigger, deeper, wider. Compassion is how we experience infinity.

Inside of each of us, there is a polarity. We are constantly at war with ourselves to change, to be different, to be better. We tell ourselves how we have failed, and we punish ourselves. We live in fear of the dark parts. But we cannot have superpowers without the monsters.  Our success stories are not straight lines to the top of Candy Mountain. We walk in circles, spirals, jagged, crystalline, intersecting dimensions that we can't even see, but that all lead us back to ourselves. Within is where the perfection is, light and dark together. We grow by being the magical tortoise. Just get up. Keep going. Fail again. Fail better.

Friday, August 28, 2015

never ending circles

Kumiko Okada from The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
“What we see before us is just one tiny part of the world. We get into the habit of thinking, this is the world, but that’s not true at all. The real world is in a much darker and deeper place than this, and most of it is occupied by jellyfish and things. We just happen to forget all that… Two-thirds of the earth’s surface is ocean, and all we can see of it with the naked eye is the surface: the skin. We hardly know anything about what’s underneath the skin.”
— Haruki Murakami - The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
(by Liya Naydich)
Kumiko Okada from The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
“Whatever it is you're seeking won't come in the form you're expecting.” 
― Haruki Murakami

I'm in that place.

Finally. The place you read about in all the self help books while you're waiting to get there. The everything is better now place. On the other side of the only way out. Through. That place that feels like it takes forever to reach, but when you look back, it wasn't all that long. Oh fuck that, it was ages and eons and epochs. Then slowly and suddenly, you wake up alone one day and feel extremely, wondrously, magically whole. Relief. Where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.

Our time perception is such a sadistic bastard, slowing down when things are dark and painful and speeding up when the world is raining joy down on your life so fast and hard you almost drown in it. Euphoria flood, shutting down the streets, stranding you on a balcony, locked outside with nothing on but a smile and you could not give a fuck. We want to hold on to that gorgeous peak forever, but we never seem to be able to, because life itself is a fleeting moment of sentient consciousness, the transitory and temporary essence of which gives it it's meaning. The harder and tighter we hold on, the more permanent happiness eludes us, the more we lose, the farther away we are from our true, inherently perfect inner selves.

We have to stay in the tender, prickly parts longer because that's where we learn everything we need to know. We have to twist and bleed and die and ache. That pain is a gift, a teacher, a wise sage. Without it, we have no way of knowing what happiness and love truly feel like. It's in the contrast, and in the gratitude of being on the other side, that we are able to appreciate when life gets juicy. The secret of speeding this whole process up is learning not to run in the opposite direction. Coping mechanisms are a real thing that actually work in practice. Our instinct, mine anyway, used to be to run as fast as I could away, in any direction, all the directions, into a river of booze and anything else I could find to keep me from feeling my massive, soul crushing pain. And it's not just the ultra sensitive who flee, everyone accepts that it's normal, and preferable, to medicate the slightest negative sensation. We sedate ourselves when we're happy, and especially when we're sad. We celebrate and we mourn in a haze. Oblivion is a guaranteed release from fear. Why wouldn't we take that ticket? Fear hurts. Life fucking hurts.

Most of us have a hard time liking ourselves. We demand impossible perfection and flagellate when we can't achieve it. We worry so much about what other people think, we hear the judgmental, lying, mean voice in our heads abusing us and telling us we are worthless and we listen. Who wouldn't want to shut that asshole up? For some of us, that voice gets louder when we try to drug it. Mine does. The only way I know how to permanently shut that shit off is by feeling my life as fully as possible, without filters, without anything. I force it into submission through kindness and then, there is a golden, full silence. The mind opens up to the brilliant, magnificent world we live in. It takes a fight to stay present in your own truth. Everything becomes available and possible. And then there's this feeling of anticipation and excitement about anything that happens, because ALL THE FEELS!

Raw emotion is a powerful and fantastic experience, and so many of us never get to feel that. We don't let ourselves.  We miss opportunities, we let things and people pass us by because we are afraid. We stay slightly numb because the unknown is too terrifying to consider. Staring into someone's eyes and letting them see you is too frightening. We say no, and we skim around on the surface of life. Because we might drown or lose a limb to a shark attack, we don't even swim.

Modern humans are given very little time to process our emotional trauma. When you lose a pet or a parent or break up with someone you love, everyone expects you to keep going to work, keep doing life as normal, wash your hair and brush your teeth. Eat food. Breathe in and out. Don't show emotion in public lest people think you might not be able to keep your shit intact. Newsflash: Everyone is about to lose their fucking minds at any given moment. No one knows what they are doing. Not me, not you, not hot guy in a suit on the sidewalk, not sassy beautiful lady at your gym with the awesome hair and perfect body. Nobody.

We are all flying through life as scared little kids in grown up outfits, trying to pretend we don't care, but desperately searching for friends and loves to hold on to, to link up with and say, "Yeah, I'm scared too. I'm weird too. I'm flawed and scarred and strong too. Let's do life together and maybe those things won't matter so much."

Losing the people we love shatters us. Getting out of bed and wearing clothes, walking, talking, working - these things happen, but we are shells. We're robot humans who exist out of routine and practice. Divorce, violence, assault, illness, death. These things break people, and we never fucking talk about it. Because everything is awesome! Right? Not always. Sometimes everything is terrible but you find the things that aren't and do those as often as possible. Music. Yoga. Books. Coffee. Elaborate dinners with intellectually stimulating ladies. Going on some dates and remembering you're not dead inside. Writing. Cooking. And life will be less terrible tomorrow.  

My point is, we got this. We go around and around in circles and we learn. The magic of marching into fire is that getting seared seals you up better for the next time. It gives you courage and power to have a next time. It makes you soft instead of hard. It's intense, but it's fast. It opens your heart up for possibilities and fills you with anticipation for what your next adventure is going to be. There's always someone else. There's always something to look forward to. Something amazing is going to happen. Trust me.

People think optimism is some kind of thing you're just born with, but it's not. It's a choice driven by action, particularly self compassion. If you are able to be just optimistic enough to think you deserve to be nice to yourself, and you repeat that in little ways over and over and over again, you will be amazed and how the barriers you've built in your life will fall away. Liking ourselves removes obstacles. It's not witchcraft, it's doing what intuitively feels good. Ask yourself what that really means, chances are it's not what you think it means on the surface. Let's all go deeper. If you're on the wrong path, get off it. Find a new one. It's never too late to start walking in the complete opposite direction. Never.

I can't wait to see what happens next.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

imagine the future

Hi there.

So, work things. Some kind of light switch turned on in my brain this summer and I realized I'm dying to make a big change and enhance my career skills. It became obvious that the natural progression for me was to learn how to code. So, I'm in the process of applying to some front end web development programs, which is super exciting and expensive. I can't afford to dive headfirst into an intensive boot camp, so this is something that's going to take a lot of discipline and time management and dedication and coffee and mixtapes. Some programs have lengthy application processes that include essays and Python tests and interviews. I've been accepted to one program so far, and am waiting to hear back from a couple more.  

For one essay, I got to choose between "Where do you see yourself in five years?" (Ugh, boring, I don't know, hopefully hiking in a forest in Japan because I can work anywhere now because you made me an internet genius?) or "What is an important truth that you believe that very few people agree with you on?" I chose the latter. 

I'll preface this by saying that I've been stewing about the obscene Planned Parenthood situation, and the guns, and the Texas elected officials who keep getting arrested, and the environmental doom, and it's over 100 in August in Central Texas. I'm mad as hell, so this turned into a bit of a political rant. I think it's good though, so hopefully they will too.  


Most of our political, economic, and social constructs are built on the false idea that hard work will reap justified and earned benefits. People believe that if they make sacrifices and follow the rules, they will be rewarded with prosperity. They choose to function as if things like race, immigration status, gender, sexual orientation, gender identity, economic status, disabilities, and other factors have no effect on one’s ability to achieve a modicum of mainstream success. The idea that an impoverished, first generation American has the same opportunities to access education, employment, and upward social mobility as a rich, white male born into a family of affluence is preposterous. Unfortunately, this perpetual fantasy is an illusion to keep us fighting amongst ourselves for who has the biggest pile of crumbs.

The "American Dream" of the 20th century no longer exists, not for the majority of the quickly disappearing middle and working classes. Our cultural and religious conflicts are a distraction from the real problem, which is that we've built a society in which a very small, massively wealthy minority wields all the political and economic power. Not in an Alex Jones/"Illuminati" or impending globalization sense, because you certainly don't need to be a conspiracy theorist to see the influence corporate greed has on our governments, our social welfare, our economies, and the welfare of our planet. 

In our death throes, we focus on warring with our political rivals over how the country and the world should be run, who should be allowed to marry, what autonomy women have over their own bodies, and which Kardashian has the best selfies of the week. Progressives are particularly great at this, choosing to debate the political correctness and racial politics of liberalism within our own ranks, further dividing already marginalized and oppressed groups based on who faces the most discrimination. White liberals consistently, disappointingly, fail to admit our own fragility around racism and sexism, our own complicity, and our own privilege in a racist system rigged in our favor. It’s one of the biggest obstacles in creating a united, progressive, populist movement that could wield an immense power in creating real social and political change.

It’s obvious on every front that money and corporate influence rule our planet, and particularly our governments. And yet, a belief persists that there's a class of people – the poor, the addicted, immigrants, minorities, and women, and particularly single mothers - who are somehow riding the handout train to a giant party where everything is free. Not content that God will sort it out for them, the extremists from the far right believe they have the mandate to legislate their skewed, fanatical morality onto women and the LGBTQIA community, pretending to care about health, but really wanting to make sure that sluts are punished for being sluts.  Their media outlet, Fox News, is nothing more than a corporate mouthpiece spewing lies and stoking the flames of hatred that encourage and create domestic terrorists, hate groups, and fueling the abhorrent culture of online abuse directed at women, people of color, and LGBTQIA individuals.

People who receive social assistance are not the ones taking advantage of the system. Corporate welfare and greed is the reason that as the richest country in the world, the United States has the most expensive healthcare system, the most expensive and least effective education system, and why things like racism, sexism, homophobia, and discrimination against immigrants are not only not dead, but on the rise.

Many Americans are looking for someone to blame for their lack of ability to achieve this false American Dream. When they do everything right and it doesn't pan out, they lash out at the "moral decay" caused by LGBTQIA and reproductive rights, and blame minorities and immigrants for their lack of economic opportunity. But these same people are happy to ignore the corporate tax subsidies and loopholes that are the real reason they can't get ahead. They continue to vote for politicians who turn around and hand money and power over to massive companies who have zero interest in social responsibility, environmental protection, or economic equity. They vote to undermine collective bargaining, strip workers of their rights, defund education, and privatize everything. Let the market sort it out, because the market knows best. Capitalism is our real god, and until we decide that human life and dignity is worth more than corporate profit, we will suffer the consequences of a nation in decline.
It is not too late to turn it all around.

When we break down differences in beliefs about civil liberties and remove religious dogma, people really all want the same things. We want to be healthy and happy. We want opportunities for meaningful work, education, and healthcare. We want freedom to make decisions for ourselves and our families that align with our values and morals. Most of us have a base level of compassion for our fellow humans. We don’t want people to suffer. We are more alike than we are different. We just can’t see that.

We have reached critical mass in this country, and in the world, in a battle for the future of our species and the future of our planet. People are waking up to the fact that through technology, we do have a voice. We have the power to connect, to communicate, and to share solutions toward creating a sustainable, achievable, peaceful future. We have the tools and the skills to create open political systems that benefit the many, not just the few. The New American Dream is open source and built by hackers and makers and visionaries who want to make this world a better place through the power of ideas. There are no wealth requirements to join in, just a desire to solve problems and an openness for learning and collaboration.

We are realizing collectively that things do not equal happiness. We cannot sedate ourselves and buy our way out of this. The cavalry is not coming. We have to fix this mess ourselves. We are the cavalry. We want to commune with nature, slow down, to purge our lives and ourselves of the excess and materialism and destruction that capitalism has left for us. We want something simpler, something with greater meaning, something bigger, and we want to build it ourselves.

Technology is the great equalizer, and coding is its native language. This is why I want to learn to code. As a woman with many years of experience in social services, logistics, and technology, the gap between men and women in tech is deep and wide and real. For years, I told myself I didn’t have the ability or talent to do what the boys were doing, internalizing the dialogue that women don’t belong in the tech world. I’ve been written off as irrelevant because I am female, so I couldn’t possibly understand the technical aspects of my job. I’ve been passed over for training and professional development because women are deemed too emotional for the rational world of technical responsibility. 

For me, breaking into an industry that is dominated by men is a revolutionary act of defiance against a system which is designed to exclude me. Technology empowers me, not only to improve my own skills and increase my understanding of the greatest tools of human existence, but to be a builder and creator. I am dedicated to creating opportunity for myself for meaningful, inspiring work, and to become an example that smart, determined women can and must seek to be a part of the collective technological solution.

Change yourself, change the world. 

Thursday, July 30, 2015


“Writing isn't about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it's about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well. It's about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Getting happy.” 
― Stephen KingOn Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

Six weeks ago, I unpublished seven years of work and vowed I would never write in this space again. I was desolate and sad and tired of spinning out in an attempt to find some kind of connection with myself that I could not find. I honestly believed that if I continued to lay my soul bare here, I wouldn't be able to write anything else, ever. I wanted out of the obligation and the pressure.

Kill your darlings, right? So I did. I killed my heart. And no one noticed.

I spend a good portion of my mental energy thinking about writing, and often ideas take shape over days as I'm processing something through music and creating my playlist around it. I always write to the music I've curated for each post, and it's a process that works, and that I love and value deeply.

When I tried to cut this space out of my life, it was like part of me died. I mourned the loss of my creative outlet by taking up coloring and elaborate, artistic makeup routines when I went out. I started purging my living space of unnecessary things, again. I kept making mixtapes, but something was gone and I wasn't connecting with the music the way I wanted to. When I feel disconnected from music, I know something is wrong.

I felt an overwhelming sense of being lost. I thought, okay, I'll try to write something else, somewhere else. And I tried. And tried. And tried. And it was all shit. Terrible, massive loads of shit sauce. I couldn't think because I felt isolated from myself. The ideas wouldn't come. I wrote about not being able to write. It was torture. Anxiety. All the time. I thought I had lost it.

I went to Florida. I spent some time with my mom in Key West, but instead of really being present and enjoying it, I was worried she wasn't having the experience I wanted her to have.  She went home, and I went to Miami alone. I beached and ate delicious food and wandered through the city, sometimes alone, sometimes with boys. I danced all night with a roomful of delirious strangers, spun out on euphoria and dance beats and oblivion. I walked 30 city blocks, straight into the ocean, and waded  fully clothed and barefoot in my thin silk dress into the waves. I watched the sun come up and felt this mystical feminine energy that's been holding me for the last year. I saw her in the sunrise. I breathed her in the salty water.

I gave her everything.

I gave her my sadness, my despair, my loneliness, my heartache, my insecurity, my fear, my rejection, my happiness, my sorrow, my longing. I emptied out my regret, my shame, my self hatred. I gave her my anger and my self doubt. I gave her my grief over the loss of my father. I let her take the blame. I let go of everything being my fault, of not being good enough. I gave her my pain over no one choosing to stay, really understanding me and loving me. I gave her my broken heart over you. I poured out my self harm bottle by bottle. Lighter, I stared into the sea and her vastness, and the distance between us engulfed me.

I begged her to take my hope.

Take my dreams. Take my expectations and plans. Take my fantasy and drown it. Take my talent. Take my joy. Take my love. Whatever I am supposed to learn by having my heart destroyed, I don't know how to learn. I can't. I would rather feel nothing. I give up.

My sunrise goddess of the sea looks like Bjork, kind of a sky faun. Lady Pan. 

She listened. She took everything in silence. She forgave me. She washed over me in gentle waves and her ancient heart wrapped me in warmth and I floated there, in nothing and everything at once.

We made a pact. She would take everything, and I would just keep going. I knew her ancient secrets and realized everything is and always has been just as it should be. What is meant to be will be, when the time is right. We made a pact. Then she gave me this:

Tiny, perfect shell. 

People who live around the ocean probably take it's majesty and power for granted a lot of the time. I can understand that. But for the first time in ages, I felt connected to something bigger than myself. I felt the power of the sea. I'm an atheist, but that doesn't prevent me from believing in the spiritual experience of science and nature and chemistry and physics. There's an infinite universe inside of us, in and outside of this planet, in the air and the trees and in the ground, and energy never dies. We're so disconnected from the natural world, when we come close to its magic, it can be life changing. So if this sounds supernatural in that context, I'd say it was.

Mystical encounters are everywhere if you're open to them. I don't think people or events happen to us by accident. Not in a fate way, but in a noticing when things are special way. This works to my detriment when I feel some kind of connection that doesn't turn out the way I want it to. I've also been on the other side of that coin recently, so I understand how disarming it can be. I'm working on my long game.

What happened next is, I came home and went back to life. And suddenly, I had an idea. Like a real idea for a book that's not about me. I mean, it's about me. It's always about me. But it occurred to me that I could write my own story. So I started to. Weeks passed, and more ideas happened. Writing ideas, life ideas, career ideas. It always lines up. Always.

Stephen King writes in his memoir On Writing, A Memoir of the Craft "What is writing? Writing is telepathy." It's one person opening up, receiving messages from the ether, and capturing them to send to someone else using language and the page. It's storytelling. It's emptying my heart into yours. It's going into your special basement place, your meditation lady fort, and clearing everything out so the words can come. Some people do it with guitars, or with paint, or movement, or dance. I do it with words. Here, and other places, but definitely here.

I'd rather sit atop a mountain of failure and rejection and shit words, crap stories, and ramblings that go nowhere than in a majestic throne of self preservation and polite no-thank-yous. I will not let fear keep me from jumping off. I'll break my heart a thousand times and tape it back together with kids' yarn and wood glue. But what if it hurts? What if you're wrong?  So what if we might die? We're all going to die anyway. I want to die writing love from my fingertips to your eyes and sending music into your ears.