photo: Denis Kornilov

"Writing isn't about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it's about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well. It's about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Getting happy. Writing is magic, as much the water of life as any other creative art. The water is free. So drink. Drink and be filled up."

~Stephen King

ocean girl

i want the ocean and blue skies and summer sun...


photo: the kooks





photo: rattlesnakefur


fashiontainment via we heart it


photo: guills


i am fashion via we heart it


photo: Big Green Eyes


photo: littlegirlblue

Hey gang!

Check me out on Thirteen Myna Birds today! My poem "I Heart California" has joined the latest formation, along with a photo of my fresh ink.

Thirteen Myna Birds is an online publication run by Juliet Cook, who also runs Blood Pudding Press. She describes TMB as "an online poetry publication seeking the evocative, the connotative, the creepy, the odd, the paranormal, and the dark." It's a flight formation of delicious poetry, so check it out!

note to self

Tomorrow doesn’t exist. So stop looking at the weekly forecast and dreading the rain that might come. Put the laundry basket down. Forget about the files on your desk. Live for today. Live for the tangerine sunrise and midnight milky way. Observe how the freshly planted daffodils welcome the sun by lifting their heads to the sky. Take a deep breath in, then breathe out all that holds you back from being your best self – today! Tomorrow doesn’t exist.

my first tattoo

After a month of going back and forth, yesterday was the breaking point for me. I could not stop thinking about getting this tattoo. So today, I did it! "All the poems written in your skin" is a lyric from the song "Some People" by Goldfrapp. I got it on my left forearm. When I first heard it I had one of those moments when I felt like it was written just for me.

What does it mean to me? A couple of things. First, it's to remind me that there's always poetry inside of me. Secondly...I've always been inspired by scars. Each one has it's own story. Each one is a poem. I don't know how many times I've written about my own scars. They always seem to be the main subject in a lot of what I write. So the second meaning, and the most important one, is quite literal. All the poems really are written in my skin.

"I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple;
garlands from window to window;
golden chains from star to star, and I dance."
~Arthur Rimbaud (French Poet)

*p.s. If the above illustration is yours, please let me know and I'll give you proper credit.

Quarter-life crisis

I can sit and look at this painting all day. It's currently my desktop wallpaper and I find myself entranced by the mood it creates. I stare as if I'm really at this park watching the women in their little boat, enjoying a summer day. I imagine my fingers creating ripples in the cool of the water. And I haven't forgotten the bits of bread for the duckies.

There is peace in this painting. Especially when I turn around and see the windows framing a gray sky. All the trees are still dead and I'll be wearing a sweater by the week's end.

My spirit is agitated and restless. I know that at least part of it is due to s.a.d., but another part is because I'm trying to find my place in the world. A nice, little boat to guide me through the journey. A place where my heart isn't frazzled.

Writing is my oxygen and yet, right now it feels like only an afterthought. I feel like I'm holding my breath until 5:00 p.m...everyday. I reallyreallyreally hate that feeling.

BUT, I shall not end on a negative note. There is much to be thankful for, much to love. Especially this hope in spring.

p.s. "Sometimes when you're ready for a change and you kind of know it but won't admit it, when it comes, not only are you surprised, but it hurts."

winter winter go away

twentythree via we heart it

All I want to do
is sit in the sun for awhile

and burn

burn

until the bone
is exposed.