Less being angry, more being great.

     Clearly, we all know a few people who we'd like to introduce to a wood chipper. It nearly goes without saying, but the whole reason for this post is tell you that the aforementioned bloodshed isn't necessary. Neither is gossip, or unkindness, or anything else that gives idiots,  power in your life. I have a much better solution: Cut Them Loose! Easy, right? It really is. 😊

Do WHATEVER you want.

     

     I have often thought, even in my own life, that the greatest tragedy, is living in fear of what other people think. It one of those human conditions that nearly everyone has experienced and yet, in reality, it simply makes no sense. Why on earth do we shirk our own responsibilities, neglect ourselves, and set aside our own happiness for something as trivial and insignificant as. "What everyone  ELSE might think"?

      WHAT ABOUT YOU? What about what YOU think, what makes YOU happy , and what gives your life purpose? Listen: the world doesn't need another "yes man". The world need people brave enough to be different. Society could do with a few less angry people who have been stiffled by social "norms" and could do WITH a few more people who love themselves enough to have love for the rest of humanity. We need more doers and lovers; less gossipers. We need more resilience and fortitude; less convention and acquiescence. Whatever you do in LOVE is all good. If it makes your soul happy, if it's what you want, if you can't find any reason not to (other than what other people think), do it. 💚

    

    

I'm a thief.

     Yep. You read that right. I admit my sin, but I have absolutely no intention of repenting. I mean, I'm sorry, but not sorry enough to stop. I've stolen from countless friends and family members for years and years. It always starts the same. A trip to the bathroom, an open medicine cabinet, a shower curtain pulled back juuuuust enough...and I'm yanked into a world of scandalous debauchhery. 

     I really have no control! It isn't my fault. I have an addiction not just to the stealing, but to the SINGLE article in question. What could be so alluring, so sensual, so tempting? I'm ashamed to say that for at least the past ten years, I've been taking hair conditioner from any poor soul who dared leave it for me to find. (Insert sincere emotionally dejected face here). 

     I'm sorry if you've been a victim of my thievery. You probably wondered why you're Vidal Sassoon bottle felt lighter than you'd remembered. You may have question the last time you'd purchased your beloved Cantu Shea butter or Ms. Jessie's butter cream. You might have even found yourself questioning how your brand new bottle of Last Call hair Rescue magically opened itself after you brought it home. I'm not saying it was me. I'm just saying that my hair sucks up moisture like Karrine Steffans.  It is what it is. I try to only take just enough but as you probably know, I have enough hair for 4 people. 

     I'd like to repay you the cost of the pilfaged goods but you should also know that that's never going to happen and that the odds are greater that I'll steal your precious hair creme again if given the chance. Maybe you thought this letter was going to be one of redemption, repentance or restitution. I'm afraid it isn't. I just thought it was unfair to keep you thinking that you were insane. Hide your conditioner. You're welcome. 

The box

Stop strangling me. Suffocating me. Let me be whatever I am. I can not fit in your box: it is too small. I cannot be labeled: I am far too slick. 

Let me be whatever I am.

 I am honestly neither male nor female, innocent or vile. I am just ragged, cherished tapestry hanging unabashedly on the masters Great Wall. He put me there knowing that I was torn and broken, mostly because of your carelessness. He knew that I was worn and battered yet he chose to put me on display. He saw that my edges were frayed and splayed like the last bit of neves that I hold in my possession. He knew that I was a frantic display of rainbow threads strewn across blackness, deep and undulating with feverish color.

 There is no one like me. 

Not one thing. 

I haven't an order, family, genus, or species where I belong and I am ok with that. So please, just let me be. If I am good enough to grace the masters wall, why on earth would you not?

An easier life...

"Never wish that life was easier. Wish that you were better."

-Jim Rhon

     Something about this quote really settled deep down in my lady parts y'all! 

Maybe it's because I am mildly obsessed with it's author, or maybe it's because I have been through some pretty tough shit, and have found myself wishing for an "easier life". Whatever the case may be, I think I've been wishing at the wrong well.

     Now don't get me wrong; I'm not a quitter or a weakling. On the contrary: When life has presented me with seemingly insurmountable obstacles, I have persevered until they were, indeed, surmounted. The trouble was, that at the end of a trial, instead  of learning and growing, I often found myself wallowing in the memory of the pain and the struggle. I was left wishing that life had been "fair" and plainly put: easy. 

     I've learned that an easy life is about as realistic as unicorns and fat-free chocolate. Life is tough. Shit happens. Hell, actually sometimes really, really horrible shit happens. We have a choice: We can chose to wallow in self-pity and grief and relish in the never ending daydream of a carefree life, or we can learn from every trial and become stronger. 

     I no longer wish for an easy life. I don't necessarily feel need for any further trauma either (insert nervous laughter) but I know that pain is pressure and pressure creates diamonds. I wish for the fortitude to withstand the pressure to become brilliant. The alternative, is coal dust.

Clouds in California

     It's been a while since I blogged y'all, and I am terribly sorry to have tortured you with my abscence.  I am back now.  Relax.  So why the long stretch of time between posts? Simply put: Shit happens, and man did shit happen! It's been MONTHS and frankly, I am not proud that I have let so many little (and some very big) things allow me to back away from one of my greatest passions:writing.  
     For those of you who have followed my blog, you may know that I was living in Georgia and might be VERY surprised to know that I am now in Sunny Southern California!  That's right!  I hoped my happy arse into the mommy-mobile with 4 little ones.  And Drove.  All the way across the country. 40 hours. Crazy? Yes.  Fun? No. Did we make it? Well I'm sitting here near the beach writing this damn blog aren't I? YEP!
     Unfortunately, since I have been here, I have lost 2 beautiful women in my life; My aunt, and my grandmother.  It was hardly a month between the two of them, and I have yet to catch my breath.  I sometimes don't know or understand why God does what he does.  I just know that he KNOWS exactly what he's doing. More than anything, I don't understand why he takes the really, super, awesome people home to hang out with him, and leaves all the douche bags not-so-awesome folks here with us! Nonetheless, he has a plan and a purpose, and whatever it is, it brought me here. So, I'm back, and I have soooooo much to share! Stay tuned, and while you are biting your nails and pacing the floors waiting for my next post, take a minute to hug the people around you.  Give them their flowers while are still here to smell them.  Till tomorrow...

Flipped-out (California's worst fashion faux-pas)

So I suppose this is more of a rant than an actual post, with a little touch of my incredible wit and dazzling sarcasm. I kid.  I just want to talk about something that most women find interesting: Shoes!!       While most of us are completely aware that every set of gams looks better in a pair of sky high Louboutins, we Southern California beach city girls often fall victim to what could arguably be called the worlds worst fashion faux-pas: flip flops. Sigh. Yes they are comfortable. Yes they are easy. Yes they come in pretty colors and even leather, but simply put, they are hideous. Think about it. How many times are you standing behind someone in the supermarket looking down at their dirty flip flops and cracked heels, thinking, "classy"? I'll bet never. I must admit, I too have fallen for a pair of terribly worn brown leather Reefs that literally reek of beach city charmlessness. I bought them on eBay months before I came back to California and I have worn those puppies into an even uglier mess ever since,

but this morning, I had an epiphany. As I walked towards the sand on my early morning (4 a.m) jog, even in the dark, I realized how horrid these flip-flops were. I mean, c'mon flat, brown, stained leather, un-washable man sandals + size 11 feet? No. In every way. Today was the last day. I promise. I'm getting a pedi and a pair of  something that do my giant feet justice. If you see me wearing anything so horrible again, be sure to remind me of this post. I'll do the same. Farewell flips.