Blog 73: Still not a Queen... (Living in Reflections of a Dream, Part II)

Blog 73: Still not a Queen… (Living in Reflections of a Dream, Part II)

***my first anniversary blog was Blog 19***

They are selling my building…for a moment I freaked out…the management did a walk-through and I grilled the agent…she asked how long I had been here, and it dawned on me, “Exactly two years!” I exclaimed…

“Nothing can happen to you, they can’t raise your rent, they can’t kick you out, you are under Rent Control, unless they make the building into condos…and who is going to buy a condo in the Tenderloin…” she replied.

As she left, I exhaled a massive breath of relief and laid down upon my bed…two years in this tiny colorful studio that I have made my home…two years…two years is such a short span of time in reality…but can seem like so many lifetimes ago.

Happy Anniversary to me…times 2

When I am asked to give my address over the phone I say, “Leavenworth St…like the prison.”…but Leavenworth St. is not my jail…it has been my freedom, my chance to finally spread my wings and become an independent woman…living in the Tenderloin has helped me figure out, exactly who “me” is and to enjoy exactly what that entails…(I still have so much to learn, but a dent has been made.)


I believe that everyday I am here, I am one step closer to becoming a Queen…everyday is a lesson, a thought, an experience, a witness…how lucky I am to have a roof over my head, food in my belly, a family that loves me and friends I can count on…I see the parallels of life on a daily basis…I see the pain and the suffering…the consequences of addiction, the whoring of a body…the smell of death, urine and shit…right outside my door.

I am serious when I say “right outside my door”…if you open my gate, 95% of the time to the left, there is at least one person smoking crack…by the time I have reached “the pit” a block and half away, if I haven’t seen 5 more people smoking crack…than it is a slow day in the Loin…as I walk home at night the crack heads are matched to par with the hookers of all kinds…most of them I assume smell pretty bad…(that being said in the course of the last 6 months an increase in midget hookers has taken over the Tenderloin, I have noticed at least 3 different ones…and they seem to be pretty busy…just an added observation.)

Yes Tenderloin, you are nasty...but you are mine.

And being a bystander to this Sodom & Gomorrah has made me see what I don’t wish to be.

The loud-party girl that moved into the Tenderloin two years ago has been replaced with the quiet contemplator…I chose to stay home last Friday night and sleep…and I lavished in it so.

I still enjoy going out and having a good time, in fact I love it… but that is not all life has to offer…I guess the biggest thing that I have learned this past year is BALANCE…and the importance of it...

How if you can’t take care of yourself, you can’t really take care of anyone/thing else.

I don’t want to be an addict of any kind, I don’t want to throw my life away, I choose not to flush my potential down the toilet nor to waste my dreams on a hallowed breath.

Living in the “Dirty” has made me want to be clean.

(In all aspects of my life…I now shower at least three times a day, when you see the nastiness that happens all around you, and you march through it on a daily basis, when you get to the sanctuary of your apartment, you want to clean that shit off and make sure you smell good.)

Sometimes I ponder if I see too much…if living here has made me to sullen and hushed. People talk to me as I walk down the street and I keep my head bowed avoiding eye contact and interaction…maybe I needed this stillness…this quietness to invoke me…it has made me mature in a soft wonderment that still shocks the former me.

And whether this is right or wrong…this is my home…my kingdom…and I do not see myself leaving anytime soon…at the present moment, this is where I am supposed to be.

Sometimes at sunset I ascend to my roof and as the sun dips beneath the city I observe the reality outside my building and I hope…I wish to one day obtain my throne and mend, heal, understand and rejuvenate the tastiest cuts of meat this city has to offer.

Until that time I have taken on the role of watchful observer…or that crazy redhead walking through the Tenderloin with a corkscrew…either one is a shoe I fit.

Curiosity engulfs me with thoughts of next year…yet I know enough now to not even assume what that path shall be…

And reality cuts the stillness like diamond upon glass.

So I simply walk…I know that I have a long way to go…but I have come so…so far…and it brings me faith.

“Cheers” to our destiny…and how we choose to get there.


DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK

VACUUMING

So the two most important aspects of this dance are that it is all in the wrist and you got to remember to hold the cord up…so start by plugging in the vacuum…this is definitely crucial…now pull yourself out some cord…hold the cord up about waist level…grip the handle, and with your right foot step forward, going into a very soft lunge and extend your wrist forward, as you shift your weight to your back foot bring your wrist down…and repeat…now proceed to cover some serious ground…and please do not vacuum up the cat…cause man the tail sure gets sucked up there quick!

Blog 72: Going Outside the Box (Dating Diaries Part III)

Blog 72: Going outside the Box (Dating Diaries Part III)

***Dating Diaries Parts I & II are Blogs 7 & 24…as well as my Dating Diaries Prolouge is Blog 43***


Last week, I decided to dip my toes back into the dating pool…and…wait for it…the water was shockingly refreshing.

Instead of looking at dating as a burden & a bitch and a half to deal with, I decided to just start to enjoy myself and take everything as a learning experience…and just have fun.

What a difference an outlook makes!!!

And I don’t know if changing my shampoo altered my scent…but I seem to be attracting some NICE boys…and while I usually laminate over all the bad dates I go on in my diaries…this time, I don’t have anything to complain about.

Now, I'm not going to go on second dates with all of the boys from last week, its not that some weren’t nice, they were all soooooo sweet but they weren’t “just right”…and I am a picky bitch…

I enjoyed all the dates…for so many assorted reasons…mostly cause they were all contrary from ones I had been on before…they were new, invigorating and stimulating.

All three dates I went on last week opened doors for me, bought me dinner, had jobs…smelled good…all that action…they were all gentlemen…and they were all boys that before for some reason or another I would never even think to go out with.

Cause when it comes to men…I have pigeonholed myself.

I have had this mental mirage of exactly what I want…what will satisfy my thirst…what is going to make me happy…but I have forgotten one crucial item…I’m not always right.

Chicken Fucker!

After reaching this most valid point, I decided to step outside my box of what I think makes me happy and go exploring...and I do so love an adventure.

The Dates in my last diaries have not been up to par with how princess dates should be…and I am a princess...maybe the boys being ding dongs wasn’t the only thing not making the dates go well…maybe…I know this is shocking…IT WAS ME.

Oh humility, a flavor I so dislike dancing on my palate…yet a vitamin one so needs.

The reality of the situation is that while on the dates from the past diaries the boys weren’t making me happy, but what they were doing was making themselves happy…and who the fuck am I to knock someone down for being whom they are.

What works for one person, does not work for the other…

Now, to look at both sides of shit (as I love so much to do) I was entirely valid in feeling the way I felt on the previous dates…cause that is how I felt…and one cannot tell nobody that how they feel is wrong…period.

I also cannot adjudicate all boys on what some have done to me.

For I am jaded and have been hurt, fucked over and left heartbroken…alas who am I to be pissed off, for there is a path of broken hearts behind me…I get so caught up in how I have been damaged that I put the blinders on to my own imperfections…how I have made others feel...

I hate it when people look at me and judge…or compare who I was in the past to who I am now…I am proof positive that people mature and grow and fuck up and stumble and fall and get back up and keep climbing…and learn from their mistakes…so I need to stop judging everyone else.

And who always says the “right thing”…I sure the hell don’t…I need to have more empathy towards others as I desire them to have with me.

I need to step down from my pedestal and be more accepting…and realize there are exceptions to every rule.

I need to understand that what I think makes me happy…isn’t necessarily the truth.

That maybe I just don’t know.

Man I hope this humble pie comes with some whip cream or something…

I believe that if I cast down my walls, I will open myself up to things I didn’t know would make me happy…I cannot say I don’t like something…when I haven’t even tried it…

And not only do I need to do this when it comes to dating, I need to do it when it comes to life in general.

For example, tonight I scored free tickets to Kenny G…and I have talked plenty of shit about Kenny G…I think I even talked shit about his mom…my sister said she would fuck his nose (I bet it hits the ladies in just the right spot ☺ )…but the truth of the matter is…I have never seen Kenny G…and who the hell am I to talk shit about someone who I have never seen play, who I have never met…that is some bullshit right there on my part…and Kenny G, has been around for a while…his career is more than solid…shit, he is playing four nights in a row here in the city…I have this feeling that I am going to see him, and be like, “Fuck that was a good show…I still humped his mom last night…but that was a good show.”

And it may or may not be my cup of tea…but damm, I won’t know till I taste it.

Yes I did just compare my dating tales to a Kenny G show…you will just have to deal with that one…

And I will deal with the fact that I don’t always know what is best for me…

By taking new things in…I will start to fine tune what I really want…what makes me happy…what I can put up with…

I am pretty sure that is what this whole “dating” thing is about…

Figuring shit out…and making sure you smell good while doing it...crucial.


DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK

CUTTING THE PIE

All right, start by pulling the pie out of the oven…damm that bitch is hot…give your hands a little blow/cool down action and grab your towel and start fanning down the pie…waiting for the pie to cool is a bitch…I recommend smoking a joint while you wait…it helps the time pass…the pie is cool enough (not really, but patience is not my strong suit)…practice cut the pie with the knife in the air, once you have mapped out your slice size begin carving…I recommend cutting each side two to three times...grab the spatula/ pie slice grabbing gizmo, and try to get the slice out…ohhhhhhhhh nooooooooo…it fell apart cause we didn’t wait for it to cool properly…no need to panic…thank god for Plan B…pull out your fork, and just eat it straight from the pan…that is some smoking pie!!!

Blog 71: How to Walk in Downtown San Francisco

Blog 71: How to Walk in Downtown San Francisco

In taking a break from the serious writing connotations that have been dancing from my fingertips as of late, I thought a tutorial would be much more appropriate for this week…cause walking in downtown San Francisco can be a bitch and a half…totally.

Yet strutting in the city by the bay is the best way to get around…a bus may take 30 minutes with all the stops it makes, while traversing will take 45 minutes, doesn’t smell horrid like Muni, you can smoke pot and amble, obtain exercise and absorb so much more of San Francisco.

That being said, there is an art to ambulating…there is pivoting, ducking, gentle pushing, galloping, fake-right-move-left-action-ness and so forth. Being a professional City Prancer I thought I should lay out some basic ground rules…


Rule One: Swim like the Salmon Bitches

This is probably the most important rule, and sets the tone for the lesson. Walking in a straight line is not an option, there are just way too many people moving at different paces for you to be sedentary in your movements….Zigging and Zagging are crucial, sometimes you might have to take the inside, from time to time you need to make big moves from the outside. I try to stay on the outer perimeter so I only have people flanked to one side of me making it easier to map out my routes.

Please note: Swimming like the Salmon also involves changing of pace…while you can mosey down the street plucking away at the current there are times when you must go for a speed walking burst (sucking in your stomach encourages this to be achieved faster) in order to accomplish avoiding a cluster of tourists pointing upward at a dead halt.

Rule Two: Look Ahead and Think Out your next 5 Moves

To properly swim upstream, one must think ahead…what is the point of taking the inside to avoid a group if at the end of the masses lies a homeless person with a dog that is creating a major road block. Your moves should have afterthought to the next move…if you can avoid the group by taking the inside and cut them off in just enough time to miss the dog on the side and take a sharp right angle to get around dude not paying attention on his cell phone and still make the light…than you are thinking your shit out right.

Rule Three: Avoid the Inside whenever Possible, but Don’t get hit by a Car (crucial.)

Who wants to be flanked by a wall…nobody…especially one that might have been urinated on…this is always something to ponder while mapping out your marching route in your head…and there is often more room on the outside…that being said, for the love of all that is holy, look out for the two ton vehicles as well as insane bikers when you are doing your side stepping, (remember these are people just as bonkers as both you and I, but in cars…yikes)…and whether your move takes you to the inside or the outside, make sure you have at least two escape options…cause sometimes you gotta to use Plan B.

Rule Four: Follow the Lights

When taking off for your destination, start by walking in the general direction, to become more time efficient simply follow the lights, when one light turns red…turn down the street avoiding having to pause for red lights and have the green lights lead you to your journey’s end.

Rule Five: Shit Check (Don’t forget the “Tenderloin Shit Shuffle” dance…Blog 9)

While you always need to be looking ahead, you also need to keep your eyes flashing on the ground, for you never know what craziness will be waiting for you...from shit, to puke, to a tomato, a Jehovah Witness…you never know what is hiding between those feet on the sidewalk…strolling in San Francisco is like driving, you got to be aware of all angles.

(Also as far as pigeons are concerned, if you are going to look up at them as they zoom by your head, just make sure you keep your mouth shut…cause getting shit on by a pigeon is one thing, having the shit land in your mouth is a whole new ball game (I do not speak from experience…but simply a small nightmare that flashes through my head when I approach a bevy of the winged rats)…and whoever is the ding dong that keeps on feeding the pigeons, freaking stop…they get enough crap to eat, there is no need to encourage them to congregate on street corners.)

Rule Six: Yelling “RAT” can thin a Crowd

At the heart of Union Square the crowds can look like small armies and make crossing the street seem almost impossible…if you find yourself holding up the rear of a gaggle needing to move fast, simply yell in your most petrified voice, “RAT, RAT, RAT, oh my God, there is a RAT.”…one will be amazed at how quickly the scores thin giving you a chance to part the sea of people and make it across the intersection.

Rule Seven: Don’t Text & Walk

Talking on the phone is okay in a throng of people, even though I find it kinda useless since my hearing sucks, but to text and walk is not okay…save that for when you hit Nob Hill and can saunter in a straight line…there is no point to become one of those speed bump people…there are enough of those out there already without you adding yourself to the equation…besides, having your phone out is just asking for it to get stolen…this is the city peeps, and don’t even think about pulling out your fancy phone in the Tenderloin…do you know how much crack someone can get in exchange for one of those nice phones…don’t even try to find out….

Rule Eight: You can always avoid a Hill (why would you want to)

Since I am always looking for ways to improve my ass…I never avoid the sky scrapper hills that adorn this city…that being said, if you are feeling a little tired, just progress five minutes to the right or the left and you can usually find a flatter route. For example…in walking to California Street from downtown, the steepest hills are on Jones, Taylor & Mason. Leavenworth is a gradual hill and much more do-able, as well as Stockton Street has a tunnel to avoid any uphill action…a few more blocks over Kearny Street almost goes downward…that being said, the best views are from Taylor Street…see the hills aren’t just butt improving…they capture breathtaking visions as well.

Rule Nine: Wear Shoes you can Walk in

I always say that you don’t need a TV living in this city; cause there is free TV everywhere. One of my favorite channels is the “Watching Chicks try to Walk in the Craziest Heels Ever.”…after hours it turns saucier with, “Watching Drunk Chicks try to Walk in the Craziest Heels Ever.” Experiencing this program results with the audience gasping, pointing, big eyes, sideway glances, soft smiles and snorting laughter…(if you are like me and snort when you laugh)…I have never understood the idea of walking in shoes that you can’t…WALK IN…isn’t that what shoes are for…it is this simple fact that for me, makes the station even that much more entertaining.

And boys, you don’t get off on this rule…I’m all about equality. Just the other day I saw homie high stepping down the street in a pair of cowboy boots that were obviously two sizes too big for him…and he wasn’t fooling me, I knew that he hadn’t just gotten off a horse…this is San Francisco buddy…there ain’t no horses round here…if you are wearing shoes that in order to keep on your feet when you walk you have to point outward, lift five inches off the ground and heel-toe it in slow motion, than maybe you might want to find a pair of shoes that stay on your feet…a princess is just saying…

Rule Ten: Always be Polite

No matter what kind of hurry you are in, how dense the tourist can be to their effects of the flow of foot traffic, even if the dig dong ahead has started to meander backwards instead of forward do to their love affair with their Iphone…shit happens, and part of living in this great city, is letting people do what the fuck they need to do and what makes them happy…they are not purposely trying to get in your way…but are simply obstacles in what can be quite an amusing course. Saying, “Excuse me, Pardon me, Oops and Sorry” are quite crucial…and just as others might make you shake your head, you might do the same for them…swimming like a freaking fish down a city street…you might even knock your tail against someone in your quest for dinner and a cocktail…But we all need to get where we need to go…and there is never any point to being rude to nobody.

I did mention walking makes your ass look better…right.


DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK

PICKING OUT THE PERFECT RECORD

(if you are like me and are re-organizing your records…this is an awesome dance move to accomplish)
Start by flipping through your precious vinyl…pull out a record and look at it, maybe even open it up and scroll your finger down the inside…hmmmm, not quite what you wanted…put is back, flip, flip, flip….wait a minute, flip back….pull out the record…smell it…ohhh the vinyl was dusty but the music was clean….as you take the record from its case give it a little wink and a smile…place it down on the player, arc the needle up and softly place it home…and let the music take you away.

Blog 70: The Elegance of Failure...

Blog 70: The Elegance of Failure…

Oh my diaries…I have been doing this project for almost a year and half, and I still have trouble sometimes writing down how I truly feel, wondering if it will get me in trouble with the people that I love…as it often has. Yet many times what I have written has moved and touched friends and family...probably in equality I have pissed them off too.

I got yelled at last week for what I wrote from one person, and another I feel was truly able to understand where I was coming from…and our relationship mended from a small rip.

The truth of the matter is that writing these diaries, are a form of therapy for me.

It frustrates me when people get angry at me for writing how I feel…after all, isn’t that what a diary is for? And this is what I do…writing my problems and accomplishments as well as my thoughts and feelings help me look at them from all sides…as one should…and if people hang out with me for more than 15 minutes they are acutely aware that this is what I do…and if you haven’t figured it out yet…if I have an interaction with someone and it affects me in any kind of way…I am probably going to write about it…

I ponder whether this one might get me in some trouble too…but I refuse to not stay true to my project…for it is one thing that is completely me…and is something I feel I must continue.

I am having a disagreement with my family…and to be angry and hurt by them is a feeling I so wish not to have.

If you have read some of my previous entries you know how much my family means to me, how good they are to me…how they are the one stable thing in my life, and how thankful I am to have them.

And the thought of me being mad at them is killing me slowly, like drowning face down in an inch of water…drifting in and out of consciousness, almost able to flip over…but slipping away right before the rotation can occur.

I am angry at how my parents are codling my little sister…something they have done for most of her life…which I feel has limited her from the truths of reality.

Many times I have wondered if the same parents that raised my older sister and myself are the same that raised our family’s youngest…for her life is a completely different picture than mine.

My parents learned from my older sister and my hardships in grade school and sent my younger sister to a school where my mother would not be her teacher…so she would not have to endure the teasing, the cruel children and the backlash that came with having your mother being your teacher (not to mention calling your mom “Mrs. Powers” is tough when you have been calling her “Mom” for so freaking long.)

For some strange reason, my younger sister thinks her childhood was extremely hard…and I just don’t get it.

She did not have to deal with the mom being a teacher factor, she didn’t have bright red hair that everyone teased…her hair was straight long blonde. She was not heavy growing up like I was…constantly harassed about her weight. In fact she was tall and skinny and often approached about modeling jobs…she had numerous friends and was not forced to walk around Golden Gate Park alone in her free time just to keep herself occupied (that being said…I know that park like the back of my hand…every corner and kook…is still imprinted in my brain from years of wondering around by myself…the park and The Boom Boom Room are truly my homes away from home.)

She was not sexually assaulted as a teenager…she knows not the putrid smell of a vile man atop her, a cold elbow against the throat…clawing at her innocence…she has not had to deal with how these encounters affect one’s sexuality.

When she was in college she never waited for canned pork and rice in line at a shelter, never was on food stamps, never had to have a job of changing an adult diaper from a man that yelled and screamed constantly cause that was the only job one could find (I took care of this one lady once…she made me wash her depends to save money…those bitches are disposable diapers…not made for reuse, if you all didn’t know…that was some nasty ass shit)…she has only has had one job at a time and never had to work a triple.

And yet so often she mentions how hard her childhood was…and it baffles me…for all the shit that I went through growing up…I still had it easy…I had a roof over my head, I had parents who loved me (yes we would get in fights, and they would piss me off…I still can only imagine the true hell of raising three teenage daughters…all Gemini no less…YIKES) I grew up in a place where I have clean water, rights as a woman…can shit on a toilet not in the woods or some hole in the floor…always had clean cloths and food on the table…

Whatever shit happened to me growing up…happens to a lot of people…and a lot more people, have to deal with even worse shit.

To me her childhood seems like a fairytale that I can only imagine.

I feel like she has been sheltered for so long from the cruel reality…of reality.

But the shadows only last for so long, and as her twenty five years gets ready to turn to twenty six…the dawn of actuality has begun to rise bringing light to hardships that are simply part of life.

If one has seen the sunrise and sunset of reality, the harsh beams it can beat down…how it can warm and nuzzle as well as bitterly burn…the cycles can be daunting but faith in dusk always coming helps numb the pain…and makes it more palatable.

Yet for someone like my younger sister…encased in a sepulchral of dwarfed actuality…simply shifting gears leads to a car accident.

The strident truth that you don’t always get what you want has landed at her doorstep…and due to the fact that this is its first touchdown upon the welcome mat…she stands behind the door unwilling to open the door, but knowing that she has to.

And I have tried so hard to bite my tongue from saying, “Nut up, reality is a bitch that slaps you in the face”…I would whisper afterwards, “but sometimes the sting of pain feels good in its aftermath.”

But she is in denial that life is supposed to be bleak at times.

She is collapsing like Atlantis into the sea.

And instead of teaching her to swim against the current…my parents are once again letting her float in her own bubble.

Yet all great kingdoms at one time or another fall…and in the rebuilding one can right the wrongs…that is where the beauty lies.

In learning to swim against the current one finds inner strength, power in breath and ever lasting endurance…my parents taught me this…and why they choose not to pass these lessons on to my younger sister, I fail to understand. (In some way I do understand, cause if you try to reason about not always getting what you want with her she flips out and yells at my parents and threatens to cut them out of her life…and who wants to deal with that…on the same hand, it shouldn’t even happen in the first place)…but this lesson that my parents taught me has helped me so much, I yearn for them to pass it on to her.

I feel that my younger sister lacks a softness which is the result of being humbled…a trait that proves quite endearing.

The selfish part of me also feels in protecting her so much against the mercilessness of life my parents are some how saying that they love her more than they love me (and I am so good to them…I love them so much, and she can be so mean)…a fact that has left me in a despondent state…now I know in the back of my head that this is not true…that it simply is more towards the merit of my mightiness…but that does not stop the thought from dangling itself in the forefront of my mind.

And this last fact…is probably why I am so upset…I don’t want to admit that…but hence these are my “diaries.”

I love my younger sister…many times when growing up I was quite jealous of how easy she had it, and to hear her bitch about it now, just baffles me….

I pray and really hope that instead of wallowing in self-pity…she finds the elegance in failure…the pureness…that in not always getting what you want…leads to truly obtaining what you were meant to be.

Yes, life is not all unicorns, moonbeams and sparkles…but just because it is hard, does not mean it is not a glorious thing…from the hallow darkness the light emerges that much more luminous and breathtaking.


DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK


SETTING THE TABLE

Start by high-flying a table cloth on top of your table…give it a nice smoothing out…now place your plates down…let us get some napkin folding action on and place them on the sides of the plates. It’s silverware time!...Knife, fork and spoon…got to be prepared for any kind of food here…after we set those down we grab the glasses…check for spots they might need a polish or two…now that those are all sparkly, what else…put you finger to your head and think about it for a second…oh yeah…salt and pepper…think we are good to go…light the candles with the matches and now everyone can sit down…crap…someone has got to go get the food!

Blog 69: Letting Someone Down...

Blog 69: Letting Someone Down….

What makes us take one path, instead of the other?

This last week, I let someone I love down…a friend, a boss, a mentor…someone I look up to and I love…I let them down because I was selfish, I was caught up in the moment, and while I was letting her down, I was letting myself down as well.

See even a Princess can be a chicken fucker.

I put someone else before her…and what kills me is the person I put first, never puts me first…their job, their friends and a laundry list of things always come before me…and yet I put him before my job and my friends…and I wish I could take back time…that being said…oh what a lesson I have learned.

While I disappointed my friend and know she has every right to be mad, I also know that our friendship is stronger than this incident…I have faith that I have been a very good friend…I know that I have loved her, stuck up for her, and been true to her, just as she has helped me, it has not been a one sided road…I know I put an effort into the relationship…which is one of the reasons that I am so mad at myself….yet I know that our friendship is stronger than this, and after time passes, so will the disappointment I made my friend feel.

I also know that maybe at my age…she might have made the same mistake…it doesn’t justify it at all, just humanizes it.

The truth of the matter is that what I did was not that big of a deal (I didn’t show up for something I was suppose to…and an effort had been made by this person so I could go) and it was not that I had bad intentions or any intent of malice….but that does not take away from the matter that I let my friend down…and I love my friend more than words can tell…

I simply got caught up…distracted by matters of the heart (ohhhh, those matters of the heart can really take a girl over).

I am ridden with mortification of my actions…my choices.

And feeling guilty, really sucks…it torments me and ravages me when I awake…it sneaks into the back of my head when I am trying to space out and forget, I have been finding myself shaking my head to myself and just thinking, “how could I have been so stupid”….which has lead to my neck kinda hurting…ouch.

Now granted, maybe my feelings of “guilt” are stronger than they should be, I was raised Catholic after all…they really bang that shit into you at a young age…but I think the real reason I feel so guilty is that I saw this happening on the horizon and I did nothing to fix the situation…I let my emotions sweep me away.

And maybe she hasn’t given it a second thought, but the truth of the matter is that I have…for as much as I disappointed her…pales in comparison to how I have made myself feel.

I made the classic woman mistake of putting a man before my friends…my true friends…and we all know the saying, “men come and go….”

And in putting someone first who never reciprocates the action, I really did let myself down…for when it comes to my heart, I am weak, and somewhat of a dumb ass (reason #194 why I am not yet a Queen)…I in no way mean this man does not love me, simply that he is not capable of loving me the way I need to be loved, or does not want to and I am fully aware of that (a lesson I keep badgering into my head)…I just keep coming back to be punished again and again…I pray for the day that I achieve the strength to walk away (but remember walking the walk and talking the talk are two very different things.)

As I marched to meet him the night of the incident, I felt the pull…the lure, in the back of my mind I knew that something bad was going to happen…and yet I kept on proceeding in his direction…see, this man is like a drug to me…he is an addiction I must kick and yet have no clue how…I am completely aware in my head that I deserve a man who will put me first as I do him, a man that doesn’t make me cry all the time, that realizes my importance…but a gluten for punishment I must be.

I wonder if he feels this same remorse when he lets me down…

It is easier for me to deal with him letting me down than to deal with myself letting me down…we are always harder on ourselves.

Why do we let ourselves down?

It is a question that I have been pondering since that night…and one I have so many thoughts about, yet so few answers.

I know I am not the only one…that puts the wrong people first, that gets caught up in what is happening at the moment, that is weak when it comes to love…

And when will I stop letting myself down…when will I learn my lesson…how long before I can finally kick my habit?

Sometimes this whole “choice” between right and wrong is a bitch and a half and I could really use more of a road map…totally.

Why did I follow the lure?

Even though I knew it was the wrong hook to bite.

Why did I not listen to the voice in my head? (then again, I know I should not listen to all the voices I my head…welllllllll)

Why am I so weak?
(I think the main reason I am so powerless is because I love it when this man holds me, I feel so safe in his arms, I disappear to sleep, floating on a soft cloud…the waking up part is the bitch and a half.)

I thought I was a strong-ass-bitch, I believed my priorities to be intact and than whammmmmmmm, just like that…I become a chicken fucker.

Fuck.

Oye, the parallels of being human.

The truth of the matter is that as much of a lesson as I have learned…I am probably more often than not going to follow my heart…that is just the reality of the situation…for who does not want to be loved.

Following my heart has led me to my highest highs and my lowest lows, to my greatest gifts and my most mind-numbing lessons.

And if I did not fuck up like I did this last week, I would not be realizing just how important my friends are to me (not that I didn’t know but sometimes you need a good slap upside the head)…the companions that have shown how much I matter to them…now, after my schooling I am one step closer to overcoming my addiction. (I am just not a “cold turkey” kinda girl)

I pray that I learn to make the right choices…to have my priorities in order…to tap into the strength I know I have…I hope that for all of us.

The homily I gave myself this week I will carry with grace…and I feel eventually, it will help lead me in the right direction.

Here is to hoping, and to a whole lotta faith.


DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK:

MAKING THE COCKTAIL….(cause sometimes you need a drink)

I like to shake things up…so first things first…I grab a shaker and than crack some ice cubes out of those tray thingies you got in the freezer and pop them in my shaker, don’t forget to put some in your glass to chill that bitch off…now…booze time ☺ if you are going to do 2 kinds of booze to a 6-8 count on each, one kind of booze gets a 12-16 count…I am a fan of citrus so I squeeze some citrus in that mug, maybe a splash or two of some juice action…now put the lid to the shaker on and SHAKE THAT SHIT UP….keep going…dump the ice from you glass (into the sink not on the floor ding dong) and strain that drink into your ice cold glass…sniff…smelling good is always important… it smells good, time to enjoy…CHEERS.

Blog 68: She called me a "Hippie"

Blog 67: She called me a “Hippie”

Sunny’s dictionary says a HIPPIE is:
A person of unconventional appearance, typically with long hair, jeans, beads, etc., often associated with hallucinogenic drugs and rejection of conventional values...(other words associated with HIPPIE...bohemian, longhair, flower person & dropout)

The Setting:
Sunny arrives at a dinner party for a dude she knows through work...thank God she brought a friend cause she didn’t know anyone else and the party was stiff when we arrived. Thank God Sunny brought the birthday guy a gift of a JUNO WHAT cd...cause when we entered, not nary a note of music was being played (what Sunny considers a clue in helping to determine a “straight party”)...Sunny put in the cd so at least her and her friend could get down.

The Situation:
As guests started to arrive Sunny drank some champagne (cause champagne makes everything better) and tried to make small talk with guests...she met some very nice people from different walks of life...all was going well but every five minutes or so Sunny would walk up to her friend and say, “Thank God you came with me.”...Cause let us be honest, in situations where you are uncomfortable or don’t feel at home sometimes it is nice to have a partner in crime.

The Incident:
As the last of the guests arrived a lady came in. The first thought in Sunny’s head was how beautiful she was...dressed crisp and simple...she showed an understated elegance...unfortunately her fashion and her words did not pair well together as Sunny was about to learn...Sunny, intrigued by the lady’s style and vibe walked up right away to introduce herself (and the chick had the champagne in her hand...twofer)...Sunny immediately forgot the girls name when introduced (she is such a ding dong that Sunny Bunny)...Sunny asked questions and learned that the woman was from the Ivory Coast and New York...her accent was delicate yet firm...she returned the questions she had answered with replica inquiries...after hearing that Sunny was from San Francisco than moved to Humboldt and Eugene than back to Frisco, she raised her eyebrows, rolled her eyes and said...”Oh...you must be a hippie, only hippies live in Eugene.” And preceded to roll her eyes two more times (Sunny pondered if the chick had “random wondering eye syndrome” but found that almost impossible)...

Sunny repeated...”I must be a hippie?”

Than home skillet replied with, “You probably don’t even shave your legs...”

The Reaction:
Now Sunny has always been known to be nice and polite, but once in a while...while still being respectful she will put a motherfucker in their place.

Sunny turned to fully face the lady that had just judged her after two sentences (Side note: Now if she had read the blog “Honey, I just look this Way” maybe none of this would have happened...reason #284 why more people should read Sunny’s Blog...totally.)

Sunny took a deep breath and out came the words...”Am I a hippie?...Well, I work multiple jobs, work almost everyday of the week, shave my legs regularly...like a slip and slide they are, not my pits that often cause the hair is red and it can go longer, graduated from college, used to own a restaurant, live by myself, wears princess dresses, smoke pot all the fucking time, try my hardest to be a good person, smells fucking delicious and does not judge a person because of where they are from or what they look like but how they are as a person...does that make me a hippie...I don’t know...my History BA degree ass thought hippies were from the 60’s...what the hell is a hippie in your mind anyway?”

The woman took a minute to reply, but all of a sudden her “random wandering eye syndrome” stopped and her bottom lip dropped into a “huh” look (almost like the female version of a chode)...”I guess I just thought that everyone in Eugene were hippies.”

A smile spread upon Sunny’s face...she asked, “Have you ever been to Eugene?”...The woman across from her shook her head NO...as the smile on The Princess’s face got bigger...she replied “well than I guess you can’t say that only hippies live in Eugene or that I am one, cause you don’t even know...I bet you don’t even know what a ‘hippie’ is, I am going to go home and look that shit up in my dictionary and get back to you...(hence the definition at the beginning of the Blog)...are you going to the show tonight it is going to be great.”...Sunny is a firm believer that after you prove a point if only to yourself you should change the subject, and Sunny is always working so promoting a show she was seeing was an easy subject to change to...)

What Sunny Thought in Her Mind while all this was going on:
Bitch please, what the fuck is a “hippie”...in today’s society what is “conventional” and “unconventional” and if you are someone that doesn’t want to be labeled and judged, don’t fucking do that to anyone else, let them tell you who the fuck they are...I am sure they know themselves a hell a lot more than they know anything else...I thought the ideals of “Peace, Love and Happiness” were pretty much the same ideals our forefathers fought for and wrote in The Constitution, just in different words...and that ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL...I could have thought a whole lot of shit about this chick when I first saw her, but instead I waited to get to know her...and you know what, I still don’t know her, she might not have meant for her words to come across the way she did...I don’t know, cause I wasn’t in her mind.


I just found her to be _____________(that is where her name is supposed to be if I could fucking remember it.)

And I am just Sunny.

You can’t categorize me, or put me in a group, I am sure the hell not going in the corner...and while some people might share traits, ideals and views about shit with me, they ain’t me...And I’m not you.

And that is fucking awesomeness.

Now go be fucking you and let others do the same.

And don’t judge...it leads to “random wandering eye syndrome’ and that shit really freaks me out.


DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK

THE WASHING MACHINE

Start by opening the lid, put your detergent in...put in the quarters (when did washing machines start to cost so much money, chicken fuckers!)...anyhoo...start putting in the cloths, unroll the socks so they get washed right, close the lid...now put your feet together and bend your knees, keeping your elbows against your ribs put your forearms out at 45 degree angles, now pivot your body back and forth washing the cloths...SPIN CYCLE TIME...go super fast...and stop, open the lid...and wait for the “Folding the Laundry” Dance.

Blog 67: Mommy, You have Blessed me...

Blog 67: Mommy, You have Blessed me...

(My “Dear Daddy” Letter is Blog 53)

Dear Mommy may I count the ways that you have blessed me...

I should probably start with the endowing of my itty-bitty waist and that round thing in your face...you get sprung...on my ass...times 11, I often look at people who remark about my buttocks and say, “Hair from my dad, Hips from my mom”...then I proceed to shake it on down now...

Granted I don’t know whether my ass causes more harm than good that is something which is up for grabs...I think it has only caused one traffic accident...anyhoo, I must say I have learned to adore my ass. In a society where sticks and skinny jeans are in (even for men if you live in The Mission) I still feel like I have a freakin awesome body even if it is not what ELLE or VANITY FAIR think is perfect, it is mine...and for me personally, my favorite part of my body is the curve between my waist and my hips...delightful.

Thank you mom for my ass, I have embraced it with gusto...

Now besides what I inherited from my mom (a photographic memory as well) she has taught so much more.

I mentioned back in the day (Blog 16) the lesson I learned from her about wearing a bra so my boobs don’t sag...I’m wearing one now mom ☺

But there are some key elements that my mom has taught me about life as well...

EDUCATION

My mom has been a teacher at the same school for like forty years or something, for me going to college was a requirement, I did not know why I was going to college, but knew I had too...to make my mommy proud. And while I still do absolutely nothing with my degree...it is my safety net in life, an area or field that I can go to when all else fails, an accomplishment in life that I can say I did, proof to my follow through and my ability to stick shit out...and while I don’t always talk like the most educated woman on the block...it’s in there...that is for sure.

TO BE LADY LIKE

My mom might question my “lady like-ness”...I do call people “chicken fuckers” after all...That being said, I always say “please” and “thank you”...usually bring a bottle of wine to houses I am invited to, treat my friends like gold, do not like to fight in public, insist on smelling good and am a dedicated and hard worker...I have learned that to be a “lady” is not only in how you carry yourself but in your follow through and your way of thought.

(Sunny Insight: Growing up, my mom only wore dresses, she only recently started to wear pants...so if any of you wonder why I rock the long dresses, it is cause my mom wore them everyday when I was growing up and I can think of no other lady that I would like to emulate)

TO BE STRONG

While my mother teaches me how to be a lady, she has never taught me to be weak, that’s not my mother’s vision of a lady. If I start freaking out about something she yells, “Calm Down, one thing at a time” and we go from there...I have never seen my mother meet a challenge that she has not overcome, I am sure she has failed along the road, but I have never seen it...I have only seen her grow, evolve...like a true lady should.

TO BE INDEPENDENT

My mom could have not worked when we were young, times would have been tougher, but she had the option...my mother often tells me, “she chooses to work”...that being a contributing factor to the relationship helps keeps her at an equal level with my father.

I have evolved to become an independent woman, and it gives me a strength I never knew that I could have...it ignites the fire inside my core...pushing me to desire greatness for my self...

THE IMPORTANCE OF FAMILY

My mother has taught me to never let anything come between family, that our blood is sacred and stupid trivial things hold no importance when it comes to the sanctity of our family.

I meet people that have parents like mine and don’t appreciate it and I ponder at their disillusionment...my family has had its shares of ups and down but my parents make a conscious effort to make us a unit...

To be honest, I don’t know how I got blessed with the mother and father that I have...I am fully aware of my luck, and am so fortunate that I have been able to move back to the city and soak in my parents love and take our relationship to a whole new level.

My parents have believed in me in ever endeavor I have taken, even if they question my actions, their support is always still there...they have watched me at my highs and at my lows, and their love for me has never faulted.

I am blessed to have the mother that I have.

I am blessed to have the father that I have.

Part of me never even considers having children for I have such big shoes to fill...

It is hard to follow in the path of greatness.

And yet I still walk my walk, as any royalty born from a King and Queen should.

DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK:

MASHING THE POTATOES

Grab your potato, turn the sink on and wash that bad boy off, now grab your peeler and peel the skin off, cut our potato up into cubes and toss it into the boiling water...wait (this includes tapping your foot and looking as well as pointing to your watch) once the potatoes has cooked for long enough (you might have to put some other dance moves in the mix while you are waiting) take the pot off the stove, drain the pot and grab the masher and start to mash your potato, harder...add some cream and butter, start to whip that shit up, check your consistency...ohhhh, add salt and pepper, taste test, yummers!!!...time for the “making the gravy” dance.

Blog 66: I think "Shit Breath" is Gross

Blog 66: I think “Shit Breath” is Gross

I don’t know about you all, but I prefer not to have the taste of shit in my mouth...just saying.

I have been witnessed these past few weekends to some ladies “talking shit” and I can smell the putrid linger of their words from here, and let me tell you...It smells bad!

I am going to start bringing some mouth wash to The Boom Boom Room from now on...which sucks, cause I don’t have room in my purse for that shit...maybe binaca...ohhhhh, here is a great idea, how bout we just don’t talk shit!

For me, personally, talking shit is a waste of time, I have better things to do with my day than try to pull other people down, what happened to lifting everyone up?

Aren’t we all suppose to make it to the Promised Land?

Was high school not years ago?

Have we not all grown...and why the hell not?

Why the hell can we not simply be respectful of each other...civil...I am not saying that we have to all be friends, that is asking a lot, and to be honest some people piss me the fuck off...but I ain’t going to be rude...that is not proper...and if there is anything that I have learned on my path to becoming a Queen, it is that you have got to be fucking proper to people, no matter how you feel about them...period...they are still people.

There are numerous reasons why talking shit is simply a waste of time...

-It takes away from what you are doing.

Unless you have a “talking shit day” or dinner evening planned, I am pretty sure it is no what you intended on doing (at least I hope so...we are all capable of being good, right?) so why distract from your plans...if you are going to see a music show, go see the fucking show. Don’t let yourself miss the great music you paid to go see cause you have the need to bring someone else down...be better than that...(and on a “Sunny Show Rule” note: Don’t talk shit, or anything really in front of the stage, that is rude, if you are going to get into deep conversation go to the back, the front is for people who are listening to the music...respect the musicians you are watching play)

-It is not becoming.

I have said before, “We are all Royalty”...and one does not make themselves look regal talking shit, in fact, it belittles you, which makes you look as bad as the person you are talking about. Not to mention the “shit breath” factor which isn’t getting anyone any beauty points.

-It creates Drama.

Did I not just write that drama is a bitch and a half...did no one listen?

Why would you want to go someplace and feel uncomfortable and do that to someone else, what is your issue? Cause when you are talking shit you are acknowledging that you have a problem, not the person you are talking about, especially if they are just smiling and having a good time...creating drama makes one appear weak, being above the petty shit, makes one appear strong...how do you want to be perceived?

-Not talking shit brings co-existence to a whole new level.

When we become above the silliness of us not all agreeing on shit...and realize that no matter what we all must co-exist...it becomes easy...imagine how close we might come to world peace if we all acknowledged our differences but still were respectful of each other...how can we obtain the “big picture” without starting in the minuet details of our daily life.

-You have given something bad for people to say about you.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be known as the chick that talks mad shit...cause if you are saying bad stuff about people than peeps might think you do that about them, or just associate you talking smack with your persona...which means people know you as having “shit breath”...yucky-ness...totally.


I would like to be known as the chick that holds her head up high and smiles, and is above it all, but that is just me.

I think that we should get over our issues with other people...at least not spread them to everyone and their mom...if you have an issue with someone, keep it with that person, don’t go telling your business to everyone, why show weakness? Why let other people know that a person can get to you?

Why not let people learn about other people themselves, make their own judgments, learn their own lessons...for one person might rub one person one way, and another a whole different way...

Cause guess what peeps...We are all different.

Embrace that shit.

Take the higher path.

Be a better person than the person talking shit, and in being a better person you become a class act.

And “Shit Breathers” can’t follow a class act...they just get left in the toilet.

Now go be fucking nice.


DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK

BRUSHING YOUR TEETH

All right, start by turning the faucet on and getting your toothbrush nice and wet, than put some toothpaste on that mug (if you are one of the peeps that like to paste before you wet, switch up those moves...whatever makes you happy darlin)...now start to brush, get the sides, the top, do those small circle moves in the front, sides again, don’t forget the very back, wrist getting tired? Now spit...toss some water in your mouth and swoosh it around, spit, maybe another swoosh...spit...look in the mirror and smile, rub your tongue over your teeth...those be some smooth ass motherfuckers, and they SMELL GOOD!

Blog 65: To be a Redhead

Blog 65: To be a Redhead


Shirley Temple (my next Halloween Costume)...Carrot Top, Big Red, Raggedy Anne, Fire Muff (this one was bad, but what was even worse was that for the first two months I did not know what “muff” meant and thought it was a Cool nickname...until I told my older sister and she was like, “dumb ass, do you know that muff means pussy”...oops)

Whatever name you got for my red hair, I have probably heard it, about 30 times...

Recently I have been studying about redheads and well...seems like my peeps have been fucked for a while...just saying...persecution is a bitch.

Did you know that long ago us redheads were burned at the stake, that we were thought to be demon children, some think we possess great powers, some say we are kinda nuts, and we are known as over sexual...well, some things might be true...

Today, I have grown to love my lion’s mane...yet, it was not always like that.

May I say for the first four years of my life I was the cutest orphan Annie you had ever seen. Yet as I started to go to school I started to hate my hair...First off, I had no idea how to take care of it...a personal note to people with curly hair like mine...don’t brush it, you will look like a mushroom...in first grade Sister Mary took me to get a hair cut, I looked like a freaking Christmas tree (I think this was the birth of me getting freaked out by hair cuts and why I only do it to myself today)...then of course there was the NKOTB years where I had the “pumped” bangs...that was really bad and used up a lot of hair spray...yikes.

I was the only one with red hair in my grade school, hell I was the only white kid in my class...and the thought of someone having red hair made the other kids laugh, cause I was different...someone pretty much made fun of my hair everyday throughout all of grade school and the first half of high school...I didn’t really learn how to tame my hair till I was about 16 years old...I still remember the first compliment I got on my hair, it was on the 31 Balboa bus, a lady told me she LOVED my hair, it was the first time someone had said something about my hair that was nice...it shocked me.

I can honestly say that grade school and high school were really hard on me...Someone was always teasing me, I don’t think I ever felt pretty, and a lot of that had to do with the fact that everyone was making fun of my red hair...it made me even more different than I already was.

Today is a whole new ball game, someone compliments my hair everyday, I respond every time with “My daddy gave it to me”...I even had a chode at the Boom Boom Room ask to smell my hair on Saturday night...who does that? He kept on going on and on about sniffing my hair...Weirdo.

But having hair like mine is a balance...yes it is quite awesomeness times 11 and smells delicious, but you know I can never sneak into a show, was never able to get a fake ID, usually when I do something embarrassing people are going to remember cause it was “the crazy redhead”...I meet people all the time who already have met me and remember me and I have no idea who they are...but they know who I am...and its usually cause of my hair that they recall who I am.

Ohhh, and I stick out like a sore thumb...I remember the first time I had the privilege of going to The Greek Theater in Berkley...I was sitting in the very top back smoking a bowl (the total opposite side of the entrance)...a friend came up to me and said, “Sunshine, as soon as I walked in I looked around and saw your bright red hair all the way over here, how funny is that?”...ha ha ha ha...don’t ever ask me to rob a bank, I’ll never get away unrecognized.

Sometimes I wish I could just blend in, to be like everyone else, to be able to simply pull my hair in a ponytail like all the other girls can...but I can’t. My hair is the cards that I were dealt, and that is simply that.

I just embrace it now, I wear dresses that are as flashy as my hair, cause if you are going to stand out, there aint no point about being half ass about it.

I have never mustered up the strength to dye my mane or change it in any way (I tried ironing it for like 30 minutes once, and it looked the exact same)...cause as much grief as it gives me...it is me, it has become part of who I am, and I love it and have no desire to change it.

For getting teased about my hair for so long, really makes me appreciate every time someone says something nice about it...sometimes I feel like a swam...having grown into her beauty...I run into people from grade school every once in a while and they do the "step back"..I smile and think, "yeah, you made fun of this awesomeness...ding dong."

And as much grief and teasing came with my hair in my early years, it only helped make me the strong ass woman I am today (I’m pretty sure this is another trait that redheads are known for)...And I guess that is what I love so much about my hair, it has helped me become me.

Cause if it doesn’t kill you...



DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK

FINDING WATER (the old school way)

First you want to start off holding one of those “wishbone” sticks, they are a stick that splits off into two...those are the best ones for finding water, now walk with the stick in your hands and once you feel it start to shake a little, grab your shovel and start to dig, you might want to get someone to help you dig, cause digging is a bitch...(joint breaks are allowed)...oh your shovel just broke through...WATER IN YOUR FACE (I usually try to block the water with my forearms to no avail)...now not only is your face nice and clean, but your thirst is quenched...awesomeness.

Blog 64: Honey, I just Look this Way...

Blog 64...Honey, I just look this Way...



A man, who didn’t know me at the time, came up to me awhile back and said, “Soooo...Are you just some hippy chick that smokes a bunch of pot and writes a blog?”

Have you ever had a giggle build really low in your stomach and feel it travel all the way up your esophagus...trying to hold it in, and then it comes out in a snort...well that is totally what happened.

As I rattled of my many jobs and began to articulate with the man, the look on his face turned to “somewhat awe”...and in my head I giggled some more and thought, “Honey, I just look this way”

So please don’t let the glitter fool you, nor the fact that my tits look awesomeness cloud your judgment...I might be super cute, look like Shirley Temple, am sparkly and talk in a high voice (my friend told me the more loaded I get the higher my “totally” gets)...but that does not mean that I ain’t got a brain...far from it darlin.

Shhhh...don’t tell anyone, but I am actually quite intelligent.

And I am not referring to the fact that I have a photographic memory (I can pull some crazy facts out of my dome) or the fact that I graduated college in four years even though I had to drop out of one semester due to “stalker” ex-boyfriend and had to go to college part-time for a year to gain my residency...I had a goal of finishing in four years and when I set a goal...well, I mean business. I also started a restaurant with $3,000 (most people usually start one with at least $50,000) that lasted for four years in an industry that eats newcomers up for breakfast in the first year...and if I hadn’t fallen out of love with my ex-husband or if he had learned to say “thank you” I would still own the restaurant.

But when I say I am smart, I really mean beyond the norm cerebral kinda way...more like the “Queen in Training” kinda way...I just try to be low pro with that shit.

Examples of me being mentally awesomeness:

I learn from my mistakes...this might be my biggest attribute. I have fucked up in my day (still am going to) and have watched others screw the pooch many a time, but every wrong I see, I try to see the right, I try to recognize what I didn’t like about a situation and make sure it doesn’t happen again...from the most mind-numbing heartbreak I have found the most glorious light...and it is only because that is the way I choose to look at life. Some of the worst things that have happened to me I can honestly say, I would not have learned my lesson if it had not been so horrible...it took me hitting bottom to realize I had to change my ways.

My Perception...I might come off as a bubbly, cute ding dong (I even play one in real life) but that is just the wrapping. The truth is I find it easier to be smiling and happy than to be anything else. And being happy is the only thing of myself I really want to brush off on people. To the point of, if I am not in a good mood, I don’t go out...I don’t want to rub my mad mojo off on anyone else...what awesomeness is that going to spread? If I’m not spreading positivity, that ain’t right. My powers should only be used for good.

I try not to Judge...please note that I said “try” after all I am human, and am by no means perfect. But I am also aware that we are all human, and we all need to learn from our mistakes...you will often hear me say, “Who doesn’t want to be loved?...Who doesn’t want to be happy?”...We all have a path to take and that road is not always paved with daisies on the side...and if someone does what they think will make them happy or what they think is for love, than far be it for me to stand in their way.

I let you be You...I was out with some of my friends last week and my girlfriend and I were talking about our friend, he is a business owner that is a little extravagant, but a total sweetheart...yet he has seemed to rub some people the wrong way...but the fact is in business, sometimes you got to rub people the wrong way...it is business, and in the music industry, you got to get over that shit...the thing is...if you love him and simply except this man for who he is, and let him do his thing the way he wants to do it...he will let you do the same, you just have to respect him. My friend turned to me and said, “That is what I love about you, I feel that I can be totally me around you, and it is so okay...you encourage me to be me.” I took this is as a great compliment...times 11.

I try to always leave things on a good Note...When I first moved back to San Francisco I ran into the friend that had robbed me and my ex-husband back in the day...at the time he was hooked on some bad drugs...when I saw him 9 years later, I gave him a hug, he was fucking shocked, you could see it in his face, I mentioned nothing of the robbery, I felt no need to, I no longer grew pot, I don’t deal with any of that shit anymore, and to be honest, getting robbed was a humbleness that my ex and I needed to experience, we were getting to over our heads at the time...to greedy. And as I looked into my friend’s eyes I tried to send a forgiveness that I hoped he would feel. For carrying around anger is so detrimental to one’s being, and letting it go is so freeing. Besides, leaving things on a good note, sets up good things...If I run into him again, there is not going to be any negatively, no awkwardness, if you let it go, but remember your lesson that you learned it just is simply less drama, and drama is a bitch and a half...totally.


So while I look and come off as a ditzy sparkle chick, there is way more to me, but darlin you have to take the time to figure that shit out...

And while you are figuring out how awesome I am, you should be realizing how fucking awesome you are as well.

For I am a firm believer that when you can see the awesomeness in yourself, you can see it everybody.

The saying “Don’t judge a book by it’s cover” is an age old saying...cause it is the fucking truth.


DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK

BOWLING

Start by finding a ball that is the right weight (get your mind out of the gutter)...I usually have to pick up 3-5 balls to find on I like (once I find the right one I give it a little spin in my hands)...all right, we got our ball, time to line up with the pins, start with your feet together, pull the bowling ball up to your chest...as you step your left leg forward, swing your right arm with the ball back, as you take a step or two forward let your arm swing forward and right as your hand passes your hip let the ball fly...I kinda lean to the side as it goes down the lane...and victory dance...cause it is a STRIKE.

Blog 63: Insecurities

Blog 63: Insecurities


How are we okay with who we are no matter what?

My friend fell this last week and scratched my face when he went down...and this whole week I have felt like a dumb ass cause I give a shit that my face was scratched...but I can’t lie...it totally bothered me.

I thought about how I felt when I had psoriasis and was covered in head to toe spots, like a leper...how could I let this one section of my face fuck with me so much?

Then I thought about the people that have a scar, a handicap, a disfigurement...how selfish and petty I was being...

What the fuck was wrong with me?

Well that is a loaded question, to say the least...so let us just focus on the point at hand.

The truth of the matter is that I have been feeling insure about a lot of shit lately...and as I starred myself down in the mirror...I realized that I had to snap the hell out of this tailspin.

Sometimes we all need to check ourselves.

Sometimes we need others to check ourselves...

I was on the phone with one of my dearest friends a couple days ago and he was like, “Are you okay?”

I replied, “Why the fuck are you asking me that?”

“Well ding dong, you keep on cutting your hair, and when girls keep on cutting their hair there is something wrong.”

Busted...I thought in me head...”No, I am not okay, but I will be okay...I promise.”

Sometimes you need to get okay with yourself if not for you, but for your dear friends who love you, whom have enough shit that they have to deal with, without having to worry about if you are okay...

Cause the messed up face was just the tip of the iceberg...I am frustrated with my career, I am unnerved with my financial situation, I am upset I have not been able to go farther with my writing...and so many other things...I feel like I have let myself down...I sense I have let my parents down, a notion that knocks me down even further...an ideal, I so do not want to be true.

And all this contemplating left me in tears, unable to move, stuck in bed...I am a firm believer that sometimes we need to wallow in our own self-pity to truly realize how pathetic we really are.

A Queen came and visited me that day in bed, she brought margaritas and love...and as she expressed to me how proud I should be of myself, how far I have come, that I did it on my own, how I would have truly let my parents down if I had stayed in an unhappy marriage and not risked everything for a chance at my dreams...all my insecurities I wailed to her, she simply smiled and gave me her perspective...one that was the total opposite of how I was feeling, and while it is totally possible that neither of us was totally right...neither of us were completely wrong either, the truth lied in the middle, but was not going to be achieved with me laying in bed.

In rising the next morning I limped to the mirror (yes I actually injured myself shooting out of a kid’s slide...something that does not improve one's notion of being "insecure")...and as I starred the looking glass down once more...I gazed upon the emerald eyes that I have tried to understand for so long and tried to comprehend how to be a peace with my insecurities.

And I realized, I just have to accept them.

All the things I don’t like about me, I can do my very best to change, to grow...but in the end, if it is who I am...it is who I am, and I must love that, accept that...no matter what.

In acknowledging my shortcomings...I come to terms with my humanity.

For while I am a princess, I am still mortal...therefore the things that I am insecure about, are the very notions that I learn from...that I use as steppingstones in the hopes of my enlightenment.

Questioning what makes me happy, what satisfies me...is a much needed tune-up along my path...

I called my friend back, and thanked him for calling me out...and I let him know that I would be okay.

I told him about the writing jobs I had applied for, the school I had looked into, the decisions I had come to and the realizations...that instead of simply dreaming of a better, different life, I had to take action.

He replied, “Remember, if you don’t have dreams...you only have nightmares.”

So as I arise from my bed of self pity...I keep my dreams on the horizon, and realized as long as I simply strive for what I desire, and be content with how far I have come...any insecurities I might have are only skin deep, and the more I try to overcome my insecurities and either change them or be at peace with them...the closer I come to my dreams becoming my reality.

Sometimes the things that make us cry the most...are the very things that give us the most strength...

It is simply in one’s perception.


DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK

THE WALKER (this is not my own dance, but was shown to me by a certain “fancy” lady that I know)

Start by putting you hands at 2 and 10 on the walker...about shoulder length apart...now you want to lean forward too (have you ever seen an old person using a walker who is not leaning forward)...now lift the walker with both hands at the same time about 2 inches forward and take a small step...breathe, take a couple second rest and repeat...until finally you get to where you need to go.

Blog 62: The Power of Glitter! (Part One)

Blog 62: The Power of Glitter! (Part One)


As I opened my gate to get ready to brace the world for the first time in a week after being sick, the sun beat down on my shoulders and I almost fell back due to the presence of the crack head peeing two feet from me, dick in hand...fuck facing a wall or going in between two cars, just stand in the middle of the sidewalk and let it all go.

I quickly looked down at my nose (as I often do in the Tenderloin when I see something that I don’t want to)...the specks of Glitter on my nose blinded me instantly and made me not able to look back up (thank God)...reason number 43 why Glitter is fucking awesomeness.

My History with Glitter...

I did not always wear Glitter, in fact I thought it was kinda weird that people in San Francisco rocked the Glitter when I moved back home from Eugene. I remember the first time I sported it was a few New Year’s Eves back...my sister saw me getting dressed up and I asked her what I was missing, she said “Glitter”...I was a little nervous but went for it, she told me, “If there is a day to wear Glitter, New Year’s Eve is it.”

Now while I had popped my Glitter cherry I had still not warmed up to the idea completely...until I met my awesome boss...the one who I love so much and learn so much from...(Blog 54)...she not only wears glitter but even little glittery eye gems from time to time...one day I put some glitter on my eyes where most people put eye shadow...I asked her how it looked and she looked me dead in the eye, lifted her finger and replied, “Never be afraid to Sparkle.”

When I glitter little children now, as I often do...it can stop them from crying, it can help them finish their breakfast when I am working brunch, it can make their brother stop teasing them (especially if you glitter him too) and make them settle down when they are bouncing off the walls, and every time I glitter them, I repeat what my boss said, “Never be afraid to Sparkle.”

I think that was why I was afraid of glitter in the beginning, because I was scared to sparkle, to stand out...oh how times have changed...I am a firm believer in “Spreading the Sparkle.”

Now I wear glitter everyday (unless I’m sick)...I put in on my eyelids and my orbital bone, the last part I do so that when I hug people, a little bit of glitter rubs of on them. “Spreading the Sparkle” is right bitches.

And I have been known to sparkle mass groups of people...whether it is the 60-75 people I got at the Boom Boom Room (Blog 13)...people still talk about that and the whole room sparkled...or certain days I work at the restaurant...once I got everyone who worked there, all the customers, even the two puppies outside...Glittered...it was one of my proudest moments.

Some guys are like, “What do I tell my girlfriend?”

Tell them you got sparkled by one of those crazy glitter chicks...this is San Francisco, as long as you ain’t rocking glitter on your cock, you should be okay, and if your chick is that up tight...well, honey...that is your own hell to have to deal with, not mine.

Once I went to a show where the band I work for was playing and I sparkled one of the guys from the opening act and he yelled at me!!! He was like, “This is so disrespectful, I can’t believe you glittered me, how am I suppose to get up on stage in front of these people with glitter on my face.”

Well, first off, I did say opening band, so he wasn’t going to get back up on stage any time soon, second off, honey this is the music business, you are going to have to get used to hot girls glittering you...so Nut the Fuck up and deal...it’s big boy pant time now.

On the night of glittering the Boom Boom Room I got one of my friends who hates glitter with a passion, he stood there looking at me in shock, I returned the gaze with a massive smile, wide eyes and a “what the fuck is he going to do to me” expression on my face...

He replied with, “Fuck, I have been saying for months that whoever glittered me I was going to give them the most massive amount of psychedelics that I could.”

I was like, “Sweet, give me,” and held out my hand out excitedly...

He was like, “I know, that is why I am so upset, because of all the people to glitter me, you are the one person who would be TOTALLY okay with this punishment.”...what a glorious evening I had...ohhhhh, the colors, the sparkles, the moonbeams and unicorns...wow.

Sometimes I just sneak a Glitter...someone will be talking to me and I will just pull it out of my purse and WAMMMMMM! They look at me and I just stand their beaming my pretty smile, enjoying my work, and they just shake their heads...then I look them dead in the eye, lift my finger and say, “Never be afraid to Sparkle.”

Glitter, just makes me smile...and I am a firm believer that we all sparkle, with or without glitter, I am just taping into my “inner sparkle”...

And if you don’t like glitter, well more for me, I do recommend that if you hug me you don’t let me “snugglet” you cause you will be covered (you should see my mom when I am done with her...tee hee hee)...and usually if people tell me they don’t like glitter I will leave them alone, unless you threaten me with copious amounts of psychedelics...than whose fault is that, really.

Glitter helps everything just look better, and when you live in the Tenderloin, and see the shit that I see...you could use some sparkle...maybe if the crack heads tapped into their “inner sparkle” they might see how grey and dark smoking crack is...

Maybe one day I won’t need to wear glitter cause everyone will be aware that they sparkle without glitter...maybe one day we will all recognize how awesome we all really are...

Until that day, and maybe even after...I will be rocking my Glitter and “Spreading the Sparkle” as any good Princess should.


DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK

SPREADING THE SPARKLE

Start by putting some Glitter on your orbital bone (once again for those who don’t know, the orbital bone is the half-moon shaped bone underneath your eye)...now go out on the town and start to meet new people and run into peeps that you know, when you hug them, make sure your cheek gets some cheek on cheek contact with them...pull away, give them a look and say, “you’re sparkly” and walk away, they won’t even notice...by the time you are done with the evening, you might have to put your sunglasses on...cause the town will be blinging!

Blog 61: Chodes in Action...(Adventures of a Chode Hunter Part Three)

Blog 61: Chodes In Action...(Adventures of a Chode Hunter Part Three)

Adventures of a Chode Hunter Parts One & Two are Blogs 31 and 52.


...As the rain rests in the distant a faint smell has approached the Tenderloin, and no, it is not the excess of urine brewing (that is a smell I must sadly say I have almost...almost is a key word here peeps...become accustomed to)

And it is not the smell of crack being smoked on both sides of me as I walk out of my apartment...the smell of piss is way stronger than that...

No, No, No...it is the smell of silly and not-so-silly trouble, of odd looks... giggles, loud snorts and a hushed voice saying “welllllllllll”

Yes, put your noise in the air and let the wind hit and breathe into your senses...sniff...sniff...it smells like some chodes up in this mug.

I do not know if it is the time of year, or the fact that I am single again...maybe my new perfume has a chode attractor I am not aware of...who knows...but in recent weeks, sightings of “Chodes in Action” have multiplied and sightings of Big Foots have gone down...and as a lady, I am always into seeing a big foot more than a chode...(I mean we all know what they say about a man with big feet)...anyhoo...

Sighting #1...
I felt their glazes on the back of my neck...every time I turned I would witness the last speck of them ducking behind another person...and as I twisted around I would catch a glimpse of them darting back out and felt their glance lay in my direction.

For the beginning part of the night we played this game...I trying to dance farther, them weaving behind me, alas the bar was too small and all my maneuvering away had made them weary and like a skilled set of chodes they posted up by the bathroom, where eventually I strolled.

Managing to dodge the chodes on the way in by ducking behind a tall fellow I was not as lucky upon my return...they had created a CHODE BARRIER with two of their friends (Chode Barrier=a line of 3 plus chodes standing shoulder to shoulder in order to not let hotties pass so a chode can than make a lame attempt to hit on a lady)...

As I approached the barrier I exhaled a hallowed breath of defeat...one of the original two men that were canvassing me stepped dead in my path as the three in the back tightened the line...extending his hand to me he said, “My friend thinks you are hot and wants to take you out”...I took a small glance up to see his friend flanking the right side of the line waving at me...the man in front continues...”I think you are pretty hot too, if you like me better”...as he finishes his friend approaches me...

He whispers in my ear...”I think you are hot”

As I stand there, not being able to put my head up, I shake...as giggles build in my belly, I try to remain calm...a giggle snort escapes and I am forced to grab the bar...

As I try to pass the barrier on the left, the Chode on that end grabs my shoulder and says, “I think you are hot”...grabbing his arm and keeping it straight so I could use it to pivot...I retorted...”I will have you all know that I am a cool 96 degrees”...I walked away leaving bewildered looks on their faces...The two chodes only approached me 5 more times that evening, each time, walking up, starring at me and saying “I think you are hot.” (Cause God knows, I hadn’t heard that before.)

Sighting #2
As I avoided the area around the bathroom at the second half of the show, I was approached by a TITLE CHODE (Title Chode= a chode who thinks because of his job, his background, or his status that he is hot and should get laid...i.e...I am a doctor, I am blah, blah, blah the third, I am a musician, I am Italian, I surf...that just this one aspect of them is enough to get them laid...oh and ps...most of the time the Title Chodes are lying and full of shit)

Without an introduction a young CIT (Chode in Training) approached and looked at me and said in the worst fake English accent ever... “I’m British”...I looked at him with my big doe eyes and a blank expression, he repeated... ”I’m British”...(was there a “Today we are all playing the Repeat Game” memo that I missed or something)...being flustered from the barrier before I replied with my standard...

“Wellllll, I only fuck chickens...definitely not English men.”

He excitedly replied in his real voice, “Can I watch.”

Again, the hallow breath of defeat, this time, lost at my own game...exhausted by the stench of not only chode but defeat...the final twist of the sword came when the CIT leaned in and said in the attempted English accent, “I would love to watch, and don’t forget...I’m British.”

I grabbed a cocktail napkin from the bar and raised it above my head, signaling the sign of surrender...(A Chode Hunter must call surrender when she has had to much chode-ness, or she might be devoured by all that is chode-ness...and start to respond...and feeding a chode’s fire, is the last thing you want to do.)

No good-bye lap at this show, my friends would understand when I told them I was under “Chode Attack” and outside I ran to hail a cab...

Sighting #3
As I whistled with my purple-flashlight-whistle-thingy...a town car pulled up...after he told me it would only be 10 bucks to take me home, I hopped in.

As he began to hit on me, I became uncomfortable and told him I was suddenly hungry and wanted him to stop soon so I could get a bite to eat...as he pulled up to a taco place I gave him 10 dollars and got out of the car...he tried to give me back my money and told me that he would come in with me and give me a ride home.

I explained to him that I liked to walk after I eat and would be walking home and he could go about his work evening...as he began to exit the car I put my whistle back to my lips and started to blow shrill-high-pitched notes out all while I pointed my finger at the driver...a chode is not always a dumb-ass for off the town car driver drove (please note: when you are driving or with a CHODE CREEPER wait till you are in a place with other people around before you let them know you are not interested...be a smart and safe Chode Hunter)

As I walked my way home, cork screw in one hand, whistle-flashlight-thingy in the other...I let the cold air numb my mind...I thought of all the other chode encounters I had experienced through out the week...

I needed to go home and re-energize and get my defenses back up, for this battle was far fiercer than I could have imagined...and as I walked into the pit of the Tenderloin the smell of urine overtook me and made me take two steps back...but the taste of chode lingered on my tongue...

Until the Next Hunt...

DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK

FIXING THE SINK

All right, walk up to the sink and turn on the water, open up the cabinet below the sink and check for any leaks, ohhhh, there is one...turn of the water and get down on your knees, grab your wrench from your tool box and start to work on tightening the pipe action-ness...remember... righty=tighty ...now turn the water back on, YES!!!! You stopped the leak, now please pull up the back of your pants...jezzzzzz...

Blog 60: Being Heartbroken Sucks! (Love Tales Part V)

Blog 60: Being Heartbroken Sucks! (Love Tales Part V)

(Love Tales Parts I-IV are Blogs 10, 17, 35 & 47)

Sometimes I hate that these are my diaries and I have to be so fucking honest, that I have to show my weaknesses and my insecurities and put all this shit out there...but I am a firm believer that being honest is one of the best things that I can do...and this project began as my diaries, and I am going to stay true to that...no matter how much of a ding dong it makes me feel.

I am heartbroken and it SUCKS!!!!

It is like this hallow valley in the middle of my core that I can’t seem to cross, I will see an oasis once in a while along the desert path, but it is only a mirage, hiding the numbness that has taken over my being.

This is a notion I have been fighting for so long, but a decision I knew I had to make.

I met this man before I even started writing my diaries...he has been with me since the beginning. I have written about my frustrations, I have confessed my love for him for everyone to read, I have declared my freedom and acknowledge my comfort in his warmth. Yet our relationship has compared to the fiercest battle of ping-pong championship level action-ness ever.

We are lovers, we are in a relationship, we are committed, we aren’t committed, we are together, we are broken up, we got back together but we aren’t committed, we are committed...ahhhhhhhhhh.

(Anytime we were committed I stayed true...I take solace in that...anytime we were not committed I didn’t stop searching.)

I knew I had to come to a firm resolution this time around cause my neck was starting to fucking hurt...not to mention my heart.

I saw it touch down upon the horizon, others saw it...My friend told me a couple weeks ago while we butt walked, “ever since your trip I have seen you mourning the end of this relationship, and not being able to get there yet.” Maybe you did too, after all, one does not write “Being Alone” when their matters of the heart are at peace...I personally drank for like a week.

And as I dealt with the passing of a friend, I longed to have my partner by my side, to be held in his warmth, to simply cry in his arms.

Yet that was not an option for me...because I think one of the main reasons our relationship didn’t work was that he was never here...his job is on the road and when he was off the road he was like 3,000 miles away, where he lives...and that shit, that shit is hard...no matter how deep the connection fucking is.

And if I am going to commit to someone, I need them here, not all the time, but more often than not.

But what makes all of this so fucking hard...is how much we both truly love each other. Anyone that saw us together could see it, we both cannot deny it...it is the one thing that kept us coming back to each other. A deep-rooted connection that neither of us had ever experienced...the “wow” factor.

But we were not on the same page in life, and I am pretty sure that if one of us were able to, we would have offered the other a chance to jump aboard ship and experience the journey together...but neither of us were financially capable of doing that for the other...and I also think we were both too hurt from past relationships and losses to trust the other with our hearts as innocently as we should...guarded with our feelings...would be a good way to describe it.

I have often said, “Sometimes people can’t love each other the way they need to be loved.”

And it is a lesson I keep on learning.

And to be quite honest, a lesson I hate.

The only thing I can do is to learn from this, maybe that will dampen the sorrow that has begun to make my body ache.

Cause the truth of the matter is, I miss him...I do that thing that really pisses me off where I look at my phone to see if he called (to the point where I have just started to turn my phone off so I don’t look at that stupid thing anymore)...I check my email to see if he sent me a note and I think about reaching out to him even though I know I must stay strong...

For this conclusion has been reached for a reason.

The last time we broke...I jumped into a relationship with someone else way to fast and when I discovered it wasn’t right for me...and became so confused I yelled “Sabbatical”...(Yeah, that lasted for like 3 weeks...and I was totally impressed with myself...and if fact, this man is the only man I have been with since I broke sabbatical and since we have been apart for over a month...I have been on an un-purposed sabbatical, but one none the less)...And when I went back to him, he said that things would be different...but walking the walk and talking the talk are not the same things...and sometimes the talk that people talk...is not the walk they wish to take.

And when you truly love someone, you need them to take the path that makes them happy, and if that is not a direction that makes you happy, you need to acknowledge that, hug them a soft and everlasting hug, and ascend upon your own road that leads to your self-satisfaction.

Ain’t that the fucking truth!

My emotions go in ungallant waves, I’m okay, I’m not okay...yet I know, just as my daddy says, “This too shall pass.”

I walked the Labyrinth yesterday at Grace’s Cathedral...I started thinking, I can do this...than changed to...I have been here before...are we there yet...how did I end up close to the beginning...now I am more closer to the outside than the center...and than, just like that...I made it.

The whole time that I was having doubts, part of my mind acknowledged the fact that I knew I would make it...because I have before.

I knew I would question whether or not I could get to the center...but did not second guess what the end result would be.

And as I walk the Labyrinth of heartbreak, I know how the story ends but can’t help but ask, “Are we there yet?”


DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK

PAINTING THE WALL

(Cause sometimes, you just need a new coat of paint)

All right, start by laying out your tarp, than begin taping the ceiling and the floor (remember we have other dancing moves to do and this is painting the “wall” not “room” so there is no need to go “tape crazy”)...go grab your paint can and the tray you pour the paint action into and the roller thingy and bring them to your tarp...open the paint can, damm that shit is a bitch and a half, don’t forget to stir the paint, pour it out on the tray action, grab your roller thingy, get some paint up on that bitch, and put a coat up on that wall...and do it right, or you will just keep on having to do it again and again.


That was some hard fucking shit to fucking write.

Blog 59: People Don't Change...

Blob 59...People Don’t Change...

(*please note...the following is only my personal opinion, and this does not make it the truth, and lessons and other factors may change my opinion in the future...it is simply my view at this point.*)

People don’t change, they grow...from the highs, the lows and the lessons, they cultivate, slowly morphing into the person that stands before you.

And the person’s breath that stammers upon your face one day, may have evolved the very next.

I hear all the time that you “ You Can’t Change a Man.”

Well darlin, you can’t change anyone.

But they sure the hell can Grow, when they are fucking good and ready.

I personally believe that we are inherently who we are, we have something unique unto ourselves that does not match anyone else...I am also a firm believer that we are inherently good, and mean no ill intention.

The only way I can validate my point is to use myself as an example, for it is the being I know best.

I had very little friends growing up and when I went off to my first college in Humboldt, I lied...I made up stories about my parents and my past so I would sound cool and people would like me.

Can you say dumb ass?

What really gets me about this...Is that my parents are fucking cool as shit, I mean seriously, I brag about my parents all the time now, but at the time, I was young, dumb and needed to learn how to appreciate my parents, a lesson that I have aced with time.

And if I had given myself time to pass, I would have realized that my past is damm fucking special too, I just didn’t have enough confidence.

But throughout the fabrications, I was still me, I was still a good person, a great friend, a goof ball...I was me, my heart was still good and my intentions were pure...I was simply lost.

When I moved from Humboldt, I vowed to start over, to be honest...today I feel like my honesty is one of my best traits.

I see people from Humboldt from time to time and it is a constant reminder for me to be true and pure in my speech.

How much I have grown.

Sometimes you have to be pruned, and shrunken so your growth can go in many new directions.

I used to love to party, and darlin, I mean party...but the second time I had psoriasis I realized the toll my lifestyle was taking on my body...and I simply stopped...The lady that you see grooving at shows now, was not in the same head space a year ago...Funny, I don’t even miss it.

I actually enjoy the lucidity swirling in my brain...a certain clarity and I find myself wanting to do way more than simply “partying”...not to mention I get way more sleep which makes me feel even more awesomeness...

I still go out and have a great time, I still smoke pot and see colors, I even hang out with people that “party”...I simply feel I have a more acute awareness of reality than I used to (and people who are totally loaded I am way more conscious of...totally.)

And the whole thing has made me feel way more older, and wiser.

In fact with age I have begun to look more at myself as the root of my problems, and in order to truly Grow, my roots have to be strong.

I have learned that who I am as a person is truly a beautiful flower...but I am human, and succumb to my wants and desires...and each time I indulge in one of the seven deadly sins I come out wanting to do it less...to truly free myself of my human shortcomings.

Sometimes we don’t grow the way we need to in this lifetime, sometimes it takes many.

Sometimes we are stuck in the same rut, with the same results cause we fail to stare into the mirror...sometimes we stare too hard.

Things will be stagnant until one looks within...for that is where true growth comes from.

No, people don’t change, their core is their core, and it has a light.

It is simply how they choose to channel their light that changes over time.

And as we grow, may our inner light grow...having it become the sun, and encouraging growth within others.


DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK

WASHING THE CAR

All right, start with your bucket of soapy water and your rag...bring that action up to the car, place it down, now grab your hose, brace yourself, and give the car a good squirt down...get your rag all soapy and start to wash your car in a “wax on, wax off” motion...make sure you get it all, including the hubcaps...okay now it is spray down time, you know you got to “accidentally” get the person that walks by your car...opps...all right all the suds are off and it is time to towel dry (please do not use the hood of your car as a slip & slide)...damm, that car is looking clean...totally.