A day for sweet hearts



I haven’t posted in a while. For good reason. I’ve become less interested in documentation and less concerned about overthinking/overanalyzing. Just living. Letting go. Being malleable, being present, being conscious.

This does sum it up:


I’m happy right now. Things are going swimmingly well on all fronts.

Daily gratitude


One of my endeavors in 2014 is to be more awake for the great things that are happening to me on a daily basis. To ensure I capture these moments and appreciate and reflect upon them, I’m keeping track of my daily gratitude.

Each day I’m writing down a moment/person/thing/whatever that I am thankful for, that I’m grateful for and that I appreciate. Once I write it down, I fold up the little piece of paper I’ve put it upon and throwing it into a vase.

The end goal of this is toward the end of 2014, I’ll be able to recall and go through these little moments that meant something to me in an effort to be more appreciative of the life I’ve lived and the people who influenced it, changed it, molded it, tore it up and helped nurture it.

So far things have been going swimmingly in the new year. Life is very good and I’m letting it all just proceed as it wants to, letting go more and being more organic and agile in my response to what life throws at me.

Split the cost, split the gain

love flickr aleksandra

I am a person who divulges all to those who I find similar wavelengths with. I have no real interest in being fractured or splintered to offer only parts of myself to different parts of people. Probably why I have a hard time understanding people who keep so much of themselves hidden away or held back. I don’t know that discipline or that preference.


I was watching “Iyanla: Fix My Life” last night because…well, I cannot explain myself and retain any self-respect or dignity so shutup.

ANYWAY. Bat-shit crazy Iyanla, in her best impression of Rafiki, was speaking to a family who were having issues coming to terms with their son’s homosexuality. As the son pointed out that he felt that his parents, specifically his father, didn’t address his sexuality, he didn’t feel that he was being ignored – which Iyanla was suggesting. Her viewpoint was that the father was denying the son’s existence.

Her point was that – whether he felt his sexuality defined him or not, it was part of his fullness and that when he walked into a room of people who would not get to know his fullness, they could easily and simply sum him up as a gay man.

I guess I got the point. I, too, feel my sexuality is just a flavor of my personality but to ignore that part – even for myself – is to deny the fullness of my existence. And for someone else to ignore that part of me is to not fully know me, love me, appreciate me or accept me.

I’ll buy that.


I have these weird moments where I feel unjustifiably ‘wise’ in comparison to other people. Or at least help others come to terms with shit they are unwilling to face head on or deal with in the simplest of terms. Sometimes I think maybe I should have gone into counseling. I guess I still have time to do something about that if I really want it.


This is in my mind on repeat. The drama. The tension. The Bond-ness of it all.

A lack of resolution.



I have been having this itch of ‘What’s next?’ in the last few weeks. I think it’s that time of year where you reflect on the year and your life and get stuck into that weird and unproductive pattern of hindsight judgment.

I learned this week from my training class that hindsight is a trap. The best thing you can ever do for yourself is to recognize what happened and LEARN. And apply what you’ve learned as you continue to move. Motion is more important than planning. The planning is a tool to help organize movement but does not account for the entirety of the journey. If you stick to the plan, you’ll be in grueling pain.

That’s the thing I’ve learned both professionally and personally this week.


I feel released from pain. Released from torment. Released from obligation to this world, from capitalism, from societal expectations, from people’s judgment, from all the baggage of the past.

I feel equanimous and at peace. That state makes others really uncomfortable. Being at ease is so foreign to so many that it it’s terrifying that others don’t understand that an absence of all feeling is a neutral state of bliss.

Those who try to be happy all the time – and I’m talking about the people who FORCE themselves into that state – are no different than coke addicts doing lines one after the other. Addicts chasing the high. The same could be said for those who wallow in pain.

I watched Sarah Silverman’s recent standup special and she made a really good point:

If you quit being cunty the whole world will stop being against you!

Amen. The people who think the world is out to get them are so wrapped up in their own perceptual shit that has nothing to do with the rest of us who have to deal or interact with them. Just stop being shitty.



Photo courtesy: Love/ Flickr by Walisz


I am the art, the art is me

I had dinner with my once…well, what was or is he. A fling? No – not enough. A love – perhaps, but maybe it’s brash to go there on the little time we had. I’m not sure what label to prescribe to him but labels were never really something he’d be interested in wearing to be matter of fact.

So we had dinner.

As if he hadn’t been around the world and back and wasn’t leaving again within 72 hours. To be honest – I’d blown him off the last time he was in town. I wasn’t sure I wanted to even venture down the path of being subjected to the narrative. You see, the relationship or potentential for a relationship had fallen away before the first flight abroad.

I stood my ground.

“You’re leaving in (however many) months and I cannot let myself get attached to someone who isn’t going to be here and that also won’t be fair to you, where you need to go and focus on work and this entire experience.”

Did that second part actually come out of my mouth or do I want to flatter myself in this retelling as if I’m a better person than that – that my decision wasn’t solely based off of “How much will I get hurt if I continue this if you leave.” Who can say.

So here he was, Green Bay Packers hat atop his head per usual.

We pick up right where we left off…wherever we left off.

The conversation runs the gamut of life and death, of art, of success, of creativity, of passion, of happiness, of American culture being a path destined to ruin us all with outlandish and unrealistic ideals and how ‘content’ seems to be a suitable word.

And the ideal of ‘free’ love having nothing to do with promiscuity but everything to do with true intimacy that isn’t just the motions.

I’ve been caught in that place for some time. Of being tired of all the talk. Of the foreplay. Of meeting people afraid, with walls up even when all the clothes come off. Of people who have no real desire to connect and who are so afraid to be seen truly for who and what they are that their entire life seems to be an act.

And how much of that is all of us? How much are all of us acting? And for whom?

What do we cling to to make us feel safe in our own skin? I think I’ve given up feeling that way. Everything terrifies me and I live within that state of total fear but that’s where I feel most comfortable. When I’m not uncomfortable, then I know that something isn’t right.

Contentment is not complacency. Not for me. There’s a difference. There’s a choice in being very content with my life as it is and not being complacent with what it’s become. It also weighs heavily on the desire to be ‘something more’ and all that THAT entails. And how you define it, etc.

No thank you.

Sometimes you just have to be in the moment. You have to stop premeditating, stop planning, stop thinking, stop plotting, stop recounting, stop trying to make sense of it all and let yourself just LET GO.

Give in.

Give up.

Give yourself over.


Surviving the retrograde

Screen Shot 2013-11-10 at 2.13.31 PM

For however long, I kept seeing people blaming and talking up the fact that Mercury was in retrograde. Truth be told I had no fucking clue what this meant so I looked it up.

First – some info on Mercury himself:

Mercury comes from the Latin word merx, or mercator, which means merchant. Mercury is the name given by the ancient Romans to the Greek mythological god Hermes.

Mercury is depicted as a male figure having winged sandals and a winged hat, indicating the ability to travel quickly. He was the official messenger of the ancient gods and goddesses and, as such, governed communications.

In 1782, Mercury became the first symbol of the United States’ postal service. Today, he is the Icon of an International floral delivery service.

In astrology, Mercury influences travel, literature, poetry, merchants, and thieves. He is cunning and witty at a moment’s notice. But he is also recognized as a trickster and prone to misbehavior.

In terms of the retrograde, it’s apparently the illusion that the planet itself appears to stop in its normal rotation and proceed backward.

According to astrology, retrograde can apparently cause a lot of friction and mishaps and confusion and the recommendation is to make no big or long-lasting decisions during Mercury’s retrograde. The point of the time, so ‘they’ say, is to be reflective of the past and review the past.


As if I need the planets to start moving backward to do that.

But interesting, considering the last post I left here. About how my own retrograde is counterproductive, especially in terms of relationships. You just can’t go back to where you’ve been with who you’ve been. Because everything is changed. In life, there’s not a lot of do-overs but there’s plenty of opportunity to learn, grow, move forward and evolve toward a better state of self.

I’ve come to see that you can only open yourself and your heart to other people and invite them in. But you cannot expect others to do the same or to respond. That’s not the norm. When it happens, that’s the magic. That’s the moment of sparks and tinglies. And those aren’t promised to you through life but you have to be open to them and not assume you know where they’ll come from or when.

It’s about being open to things. That’s really hard. To be self-caring and self-loving to a point to think you’re deserving and ready for an influx of goodness beyond the environment you’ve created for yourself. And that’s where I’m at. I’ve created this space for myself where I’m truly happy and content and I see nothing but potential and goodness around me but I’m not truly pursuant of it for the sake of ‘getting.’

It’s about just being present and allowing others to stand by your side and inviting them to be part of what you create and eventually creating something together. That’s the ideal. That’s the vision I still believe in. I still believe I’ll be loved in ways I’ve so far only imagined up.

But even the journey here was rough. But the point is I made it.

Image: Hold me tide/Ibai via Flickr. 

Where you can never return


Oh, hello. It’s been a minute. As promised, I’ve come here less often – with less to say and less to process.

Time shifted today. But my body only obeys its own rhythms. I am slowly losing connection with time. I have no use for it; it rarely matters. It seems I just don’t know what day it is and I find that it’s all so inconsequential anyway. It’s a construct we invented for the purpose of laboring away and perhaps setup the entire ‘Cup half-empty’ mentality to always be aware that this intangible thing called time is slipping away from us.

Fuck it. It just doesn’t matter. Why bother keeping track. Being true to your biology seems so much more keen.

New breathing now. Better breathing. Better sleeping. All good. And bless those who surrounded the crunchy, bloody ordeal – however brief it ’twas.

“No going back” keeps being repeated to me. And maybe there’s good reason. That instead of looking at the card catalog of where I’ve been, I should be more focused on the future and the present state of my feet.

There are moments where I realize how cruel I am to myself. How much I beat myself up over food, diet, body, relationships, work, etc. Could I be a bit more sensitive to my own delicate nature, which I’ve always known was there. The exoskeleton rose from this and now has overpowered the rest of me. It’s time to just shift my own self. To give myself a break. To be a bit more self-preserving, self-loving.

And no going back means relying on the present state of myself and no longer lingering on the past as a crutch toward a future that is not guaranteed or promised or even likely.

I have a hard time not being alone. I revel in it. But it is sad. It does make me a bit lonely at times and it’s hard for me to overcome it for the sake of being around people. Again, delicate like broken glass that no one wants to clean up. That’s how I’ve made myself. And those with the balls to do so, I become as loyal as a dog and will protect forever. Because I am grateful and thankful and humbled and loved. When others can love me a bit better than I can love myself – I have to allow these folks in and let them teach me how to be better at this myself and see what they see.

Don’t get so worried that I’m down on myself. It’s just a lot of thinking that’s happened. My life is blissful in how simple, in how peaceful, in how easy and in how transparent I have become with myself.

I had the reason to believe today that I may never have the love of another man but that absence doesn’t negate or overpower the other love that’s swirling around me and propelling me and keeping me smiling. It’s just a reality. I no longer have the expectation it’s coming. I’m no longer looking. I’m no longer hopeful or hopeless. I’m just here. Me. Solitary but not alone.

Always resilient and always flawed. Like a model with a defect. But is there such a thing as a the ideal? No. It’s a farce.


After a trip to Atlanta and a conversation in a hotel room that was soul-baring for many, we came to this concept of bucket-fillers. And the truth of the matter was you have those who are filling your bucket and you are filling theirs – mutual beneficial relationships. Then there are those that just take, take, take, take. And you give, give, give, give. And those are the relationships that will suck you dry. Will leave you crying alone at night. Leave you questioning your worth. Leave you wondering why you’ll never be loved.

And I’ve become more protective about my bucket-filling tendencies. Because for those that I flutter to, I give so easily and freely. Sometimes without return and to the detriment of myself. And I see it now. It’s all so clear.

…you just can’t go backwards. I’m going to stop trying.

‘Til next time.


The need for this space to write and share feels less useful than it once did. A sign that instead of working things out here for myself, I’m more invested and proactive in making the resolution in the moment and being much more honest in life about what I want, what makes me happy, what makes me feel loved, and what makes me want to run for the hills – as an exercise to prevent me from doing so.

So who knows how often – if ever – I’ll be updating this place. It’s served me so well and has bared the brunt of many logic wars I’ve battled with myself. And it’s been my scapegoat for when I was too afraid to deal direct, a somewhat passive aggressive attempt at resolution or closure when I didn’t think I could truly say what I felt too the person.

But also, I had to write all these words in this place to better get a grip on my own abilities of communication. To understand that acidic words can kill and that I need to temper my responses, my use of language in delicate situations when it’s not reflective of the inner part.

I’m eager to get direct without the battle armor.

Give me more.

I always get so intrigued going back to hear artists talk about the impetus of a song, where it came from, the environment in which the emotion cultivated such a thought.

“…in ‘Hotel’ she says goodbye to someone she perhaps might have married. I think as you’re getting married, all the loves, even the 10-minutes loves, are popping up. ‘Hotel’ was really like feeling like an agent – a spy – in that he was the greatest guy at one time and they were giving me time behind enemy lines. Even though she knows they can’t be lovers because it’s a whole other life, she just can’t let him go. That’s the thing about letting old lovers go. You don’t stop loving some of them. There are a couple you love no less than you ever did. Not to mention names…but I’m still in love with a couple. You’re not going to try to make it work again, but if they needed you, you’d drop everything.” –

Tori Amos, Alternative Press 7/98