Showing posts with label Emma Roberts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Emma Roberts. Show all posts

Thursday, September 4, 2014


Kisses come from first kisses and first kisses come from by chance first meetings or maybe you know someone already? I don't know. But you had to meet somewhere before. Ha. Anyhoo! Do you remember the first time you met someone? How about the first time you didn't meet someone but you laid eyes on each other? Here's one about the first time you didn't meet but you remember the moment... Timing is amazing. I think people who are meant to be in your life and those not meant to be around... Well you simply go with the flow either way. So, I didn't meet someone once about 5 years ago in a place far from home. This one was inspired by that moment when we didn't meet because we continue to run into each other in random places over the years. Of course we met a year later introduced by a friend of a friend. But we do both vividly remember 'not meeting' that first time. It's been a while but I still do enjoy the occasional almost miss. Which is about due soon...

Kisses, m. 

In the dark

Do you remember how we met?
You mean how we didn’t meet.
No, we didn’t meet. But it was the first time we saw each other.
It was in the dark and we didn’t meet.

In the dark and we were dancing.
We were dancing separately but together.
But that’s not how it started.
No, not at all. You’re right.
I always am.
Sure. If that’s what you want.

I want to know if you remember how it happened.
I remember how you tried to stare but couldn’t see my face.
I remember the cut of your hair and black jacket when you stared at me from the shadows.
How was it?
It was exceptionally dashing on a man of your stature.
The hair or the stare?
Both. Although, I can’t say much about your dancing.
My dancing was fine.
If that’s what you like to believe.

It is. Now tell me, why didn’t you come over and say hello?
You had company.
That’s a lie. I was alone.
I know. But you could have come over and said hello.
I could have.

And then we could have danced.
We could have, but…
I wouldn’t have been able to see you dancing with me from so very far away.

And that was something to see, wasn’t it?
It was; especially when your eyes were watching mine from across the room in the dark.
How do you know I was watching you?
I know.
I could have been looking at another person.
But you weren’t.
Neither were you.

You were lovely that first night we never met.
I thought the same about you.
Yet somehow we managed not to meet each other.
Somehow we managed to have a dance.
Somehow we danced together when we never met in the dark.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014


Nothing is impossible, the word itself says 'I'm possible'!

-Audrey Hepburn

Possible. Everything is possible. I have had many destinies yet lived & dreams to put forth. Although I have many passions, photography, design, and writing are those that actually produce work. 

I wanted to put out a photo book so I did, in fact 2. I wanted to write ebook novels so I did, 8 or 9? I wanted to write a novel and did...

The novel has never been quite finished since I have been working on it. Lately with the new pieces written, I'm close to calling it completed.

From day one since I've been working on the book, the perspectives/TIA, everyone in my life has always supported and told me this was possible. Strangers included. 

I've only met an ounce of resistance,  from one man, and yep the shitty part of it, he's actually one of my hero's whose work I admire and support. He called my writing "trash" in a visually stimulating way... Maybe he didn't mean it? Funny thing... I hope he did. It means he has an opinion of his own. Why? I suppose we all need resistance from somewhere. I digressed.

For the most part this dream has been so possible and attainable from the beginning that I feel blessed. As most artists struggle for support. I am very lucky that when I discuss my dream with most people and share the book they are incredibly supportive. 

How are they supportive? Everyone I meet & share openly with usually have insisted on giving me help in some way. Which the extreme ranges from phone numbers of writing agents and business cards of book agents to setting up lunches with their publishing editor friends who they swear "will want to publish it after a read." 

I've got the destiny I want as a writer, yet I struggle to finish the novel. No clue why everyone in my life supports the book but maybe it's time to finish... And make it happen.

Here's a short excerpt... 

Alton is one of my favorite characters who has carried more of my own offensive quirks than the others. She's a borderline sociopath and appears in only the other posted excerpts... She has a portion of her own, but this, this is a small part of Alton and she is where the idea for Adrian began...

Do the people you meet support your dream?

Kisses, m.

Things that go without saying

Things that go without saying.
The mornings start out with a feeling of despair, a sense of remorse for last nights actions. Always the guilt remains. Perhaps over the party or the people, however it isn’t necessarily the case. Some of the parties happen to be fabulous and without a doubt the peak of it all. The fabulous people can’t help but fake it, that’s just what they do. I’m not like them, I’m just me. Not cheap enough to let them own me. Guilty for letting them try.

Even this morning when he wasn’t there. Who, is not important. Just that I’m here still. In his bed, wearing his shirt and reading his tiny notes that apologize by leaving breakfast. It’s in the kitchen. Don’t worry, stay as long as you like. I can’t help the weight that sits in my chest like an anchor pulling me down.

The panic attack hits at 6am during my shower. Heart races like it can’t catch up to the rest of my body as I continue to wash the night off of me. Wash that man right out of my hair along with the 12-hr party the smoke, the drinks, and Johnny C’s blood off of my elbow. Water can cleanse my body, but not my cold dark soul. And there’s nothing to be done about my Cavalli dress with a line of Johnny C’s blow smeared across the breasts and the countless cocktails that fabulous Reggie dropped across my lap while talking to the Countess Jessica Grant.

The darkest moments are after I’ve spent the night out with a man who doesn’t know me, doesn’t love me and doesn’t want to. A man who leaves breakfast before slinking out the door, back to his life, maybe his wife, maybe his girlfriend, back to his real.

Even more revealing is that these are the things, the very REAL things I keep to myself. The pieces of raw, vulnerable me the boys will never know or ask to know. The pieces that I choose to leave behind. The moment I cross the threshold into the party begins the transformation. Put on the best FAKE. Keep it clean. Lift your chin slightly to the right. Now act natural. Posing for the imaginary camera. The one that scrutinizes every little detail that’s wrong. One false move and you are considered bitter. Ungrateful. Tired. Get out of the way. Someone is waiting to take your place.

She can have it. Let her. Maybe I’m bitter. Or ungrateful. 

Knowing that when I return back to these quiet moments alone I can remove my smile, the insincere fraud, like it was a soiled dress. Then comes the dreading for the next time when perhaps I once again won’t have the strength to say no. My hand wipes away the steam coated mirror and leaves me staring at the stranger in the mirror. The haggard woman that drinks too much, talks too loud and moves about the party just because it’s what is expected. Coming face to face with the reflection that my life feels out of control and I want out. But I don’t know how.

My towel wrapped hair and I walk through his wardrobe. Vintage Louboutin heels in the three different colors. He didn’t always live alone. She left her Chanel boots from three seasons ago and faux leather wrap. These tiny remnants of a former ‘someone’ lay at rest among his suits and jackets, demolition denim and t-shirts, watches and shoes. He probably doesn’t know. This reveals more about him than he could ever say. She probably thought maybe I’ll come back someday. And he just didn’t notice.

At least I’ll have fresh clothes. That makes up for breakfast. Not impressive without the company. Why couldn’t he be out getting coffee?  I don’t like waking up alone. Yet I choose to. Notes are getting old now. Yet I accept them. At least he’s the same no one important leaving me notes and breakfast. Consistency is better than just anyone. It appeases the feelings of guilt. And the boots don’t hurt.

These boots, the clothes, the notes, the breakfast all come after the fabulous night. Mornings all alone filled with things that I’ll never say. Things that no one will ever ask to know. Things that they don’t care to know. They’ll never know the guilt, the contempt, or the disgust. What they’ll see is the ensemble, the smile and the best piece put forward.

This used to be the life… maybe I want a new one. This is something that I’ll never say.

Friday, May 2, 2014


Getting a cup of coffee can be tiring but there's no need to lay in the street over it! Try enjoying a cafe that doesn't require you leave the street behind.

Cafe/Day by Suppose Design 

“Café/Day’s building shell gives the impression that the structure was frivolously sited upon a pre-existing parking lot, unveiling the bold white lines of the traffic markings and the asphalt.  Even the door frames and furniture details were painted in yellow, matching the flagpoles from the driving school that occupies the car park.  The cafe features benches modelled on bus stop seating and its chairs are made of recycled car seats. With its large glass walls and unusual flooring solution, Café/Day extends this casual relaxing space out into the urban environment.”

Would you lay in street for a cup of coffee?

Barbie knows you would! 
Kisses, m.

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Ken loves stuffed animals! Dream Roomspiration: Stuffed Animals

Dolls! Just can't live without your stuffed toy? Although you must grow up, you don't have to live without them. Try repurposing them in your decor!

Dream Roomspiration: Stuffed Animals

Would you repurpose your stuffed animals?

Barbie thinks you would!
Kisses, m.

Saturday, April 19, 2014


emma roberts c/o tyler shields photography

Once upon a few years ago I had a conversation with a young man and I told him: Never put off anything you could do today until tomorrow. You may only get one chance to do something. Needless to say I ran into him the other day, Thursday??, and he reminded me that he listened and it was an amazing thing that happened with him and a lovely young woman. He also reminded me that I also asked him to "ALWAYS BE YOURSELF" and it was the one thing that guided him through dark times in his relationship with himself.  And yes, they are still happy together.  On that note... 

I will step off track for a moment to... explain something. The hardest part about being a writer is trying to explain my style to people. Especially the ones I absolutely adore. I don't write the things I want to say, but can't say. Typically, I say the things I want to say, and if I can't say them, I wait for the courage to. I am sorry if I hurt anyone. Please understand, I wouldn't share a story inspired by or meant for someone here before sharing it with them or asking to post it. My stories, blog intro/selections, etc may have a bit of directed insight for my friends and family, who have shared a bit of their life with me and I try to keep it ambiguous... but it's nothing more; the writing is the past right now. I'm not in a place to share the new. I wish... I will get to that place someday. 

Now this week has had it's share of tears, happy ones and very sad ones that were both mine and other people's. A young woman's suffering reminded me of a story about missing someone and how consuming that feeling can be. The Dalai Lama says that suffering is a choice, pain is real. The suffering that comes from the insecurity of romantic attachment is unnecessary because it is the fantasy of true love. Love is trusting, open and giving without restriction. 

Please enjoy if you've never read... and as always live, love and breathe happily with yourself and others. 

kisses, m. 

I’ll Cry Tomorrow.

I’ll Cry Tomorrow. It’s what I think when I roll over in the sheets once more. It doesn’t matter if my tears come today. I can still smell you in these sheets and taste you on my skin. When I close my eyes you are still here with me. No mistake can be made. The salty taste of you is still fresh in my mouth. When I swallow all I taste is your kiss. The scent of you lingers in my hair. And when it touches my face I instinctively reach over to find you when you’re not there. But I don’t want to move. I like laying here in our sheets. For more than three days I’ve slept in them. And now another day beckons to me to wake.

I can feel the warmth of the sunlight against my skin that breaks through the smallest crack in the window. There’s no point in opening my eyes. The darkness can not block out the ray of light. It penetrates the thin veil of my eyelids. Redness spreads across my view as the warmth crawls up my bare legs. A warmth that reminds me of you as I let it climb toward the place between my legs. A place that you like to linger when you’re here. Here with me.

The night before last night I almost spilled a glass of wine on the bed. It fell when I leaned into that place you lay your head when I’m letting my mouth wander. I wanted to see how you see things when I let my mouth keep you from forgetting me. The same way I’m trying to keep you close to me. In my mind the way you’re in my mouth. Then there in that place the glass tumbled. The spill that almost was missed the bed.

Almost isn’t the same as doing. And I never changed the sheets. I had my reason for leaving them. I wanted your smell to stay with me another day. Today, Tomorrow, and Yesterday have and will happen. I find ways to focus on the present only knowing that you’re still in bed when I get home. Somehow I know they won’t bring you back, but I keep telling myself that I’ll change them tomorrow.

Now it’s Sunday. More than three days since I’ve seen you. Been with you. Touched you. Remembering how we touched 18 different times between the covers that morning before you left. The phone rings. I ignore it. Because I know it isn’t you. You promised you wouldn't call to tell me you aren't coming… And I’m not picking up.

I’m right it’s not you. Opening my eyes, I sit up and listen to the voice. It’s Thompson. He tells me that it will be another day. You’re away until tomorrow. Tomorrow. That’s when you’ll be closer. Closer to where? The call ends with a slam and I’m wrapping my arms in the 300 thread count Egyptian cotton and leaning forward. Before long I’m standing in the middle of the room with the smell of your arms wrapped around my bare skin.

More than three days since there were tears. It’s been more like four or five since we touched. You’re gone. But you’re still here. Here in the room. If you can taste and smell something doesn’t that make it real? Two sensory experiences and the rest of your mind fills in the gaps. I know my senses are lying. And I’m sleeping with your ghost. Cheating on the present with the ghost of the past while you’re away.

Instantly when I cross the room I then circle back because the smell is fading. The taste no longer seems as vivid. More than ever the tears want to be here. There’s something missing and I’m thinking that tomorrow is today.

Tomorrow. We keep saying tomorrow when we should be saying today. Tomorrow I’ll pick up the laundry. Tomorrow I’ll go to the grocer’s. Tomorrow I’ll get out of bed earlier. Tomorrow you’ll be home. Tomorrow I’ll see your face. And tomorrow when you’re not closer… Tomorrow, I’ll cry tomorrow.

Friday, November 15, 2013

Dream Roomspiration: Money

Dolls and Kens what can be bad about money? Nothing right? Money is fabulous! What happens when you get too much? Too much of it can run your life but before you let the money kill you or own you try decorating it with it!

Money Kills c/o

Dream Roomspiration: Money

Emma Roberts - Money c/o

Is this you Dolls and Kens? You got too much money? Don't know what to do? Decorate with it Dolls and Kens!

Walls and Wallpaper


 Would you decorate with your hard earned cash?

Barbie would!

Kisses, m.