BIG Deal

“Women forget that to somebody, they’re a big deal. You might not have met that person yet…but you’re someone’s Angelina Jolie. You’re someone’s giant great big deal and they won’t be able to believe that they get to wake up next to you every morning. But you have to believe that about yourself.

You know – someone is going to be your Ryan Reynolds someday. Someone is going to be your thing, like “How did I get so lucky?” But if you don’t treat yourself with value, the person that will also value you is not going to come. 

Women don’t remember that they’re going to be a big deal to someone, because they have that panic of wanting to lock something down and wanting to feel that they’re something to someone instead of everything to the right one.”

—  Amiira Ruotola

Is

Everything has it’s beauty but not everyone sees it.  – Andy Warhol

Andy Warhol is one of my favorites! He wasn't what you might find as beautiful but he was a man of beauty. Ugly is a word that is a vague cheap insult that should be barred from our language. Perhaps if we followed one person's model by using it less, judging each other less, then the standards set by society would change. I know Andy certainly wouldn't be a household name if he continued to create art by society's standards. Because society might not see the beauty in the ordinary even if it jumped up and out at them. 

It's hard to imagine for some that beauty is everywhere. It's in everything and everyone. It’s more than the surface value. But what do I know. Right? Well you may not believe me but I spent a portion of my life being seen as ugly.  I recently confided to a friend that people used to call me “ugly” and he didn’t believe me. I wish I were lying and it wasn’t true. I’m not sharing because I want sympathy. Do not fucking pity me because I will not pity you. I wouldn’t be who I am without the scars and a very high tolerance when it comes to meanness. 

I suppose I’m sharing because I’ve seen beautiful young women see themselves as defective and start to change themselves & self destruct to conform to what they think others expect them to be. I’ve been there. I pierced/prodded myself, over-ate and starved myself, cut myself, drugs to race and chase me into perfection, bleached out my long hair until it was the texture of broken straw and then chopped off all my newly healed hair into an audrey pixie cut over a gnarly breakup. Nowadays I don’t alter my appearance over men or my emotional state. I change my hair and body to please me. It’s way more fun!

Possibly another reason I am sharing is because some women perceive me as a threat. This is still relatively new to me and it’s frustrating because I don't understand the need to feel threatened. But I'm glad to be in a position to try to understand it. Let me explain… People will be cruel no matter what you look like. Last year some girl actually insulted me by saying I was pretty and I wasn’t sure how to take it. A friend told me: you think you get by under the radar and she thinks you are her competition. This rationale confuses me because when I see a beautiful woman, like Angelina Jolie or a Victoria Secret model, I admire them. I aspire to be as beautiful inside and outside as they are. So I will say it’s still very interesting to me that people perceive how I am and my abilities on whether I am pretty or ugly, overweight or skinny. I don’t think about appearances or judge myself or others. It’s simply easier not to and keep going. 

Honestly, if you asked me I say I was a better conversationalist than a beauty or sex symbol often relying on my wit and words to entice people to see my way. I highly recommend learning the art of conversation. It is really a lost art with the invention of wi-fi devices and highly underrated. It's funny to believe, but I have gotten a lot of my jobs & favors from talking my way into them, not from using my feminine wiles. 

Here’s the thing, like many of you… I don't know why I behave how I do most of the time. Probably like you... I’m playing it cool because I’m trying to be more comfortable with a situation, sometimes it’s compliments – I’m getting better at being graceful when accepting them, other times I’m trying to understand why anyone would envy me &/or I’m diffusing a situation where I or someone else is intimidated.

Yep I’m can get just as intimidated by all of you. I'm very human and it took years to get comfortable with looks, stares and compliments from people as appreciation rather than an insult. When I see a guy or girl friend graciously accept a compliment about their beauty I wish I were as composed. I'm adjusting to staring & complements thanks to my tattoos which I usually diffuse by referring to their creators. But staring used to mean I was about to have an insult hurled in my direction when I was growing up. Or there was food between my teeth? Can you relate? Exactly. Fucking sucks right? 

One of my psych classes years ago labeled it Ugly Duck Syndrome. But I don’t think anyone is an ugly duck and unless we all get to be swans no one gets to be. Why? I think even people we perceive as beautiful get to feeling ugly sometimes. Yeah, I do admit to having a temper but I try to relate and understand women because we are taught to view each other as competition for men and vanity instead of careers or goals. I believe this is why it took a man to teach me how to be a true competitor with work, to spar equally and seek to be a better opponent. An insecure woman would have just competed with looks instead of work and disparaged my self esteem. **Don’t get me wrong two strong women mentored me in Interior Design and Business Management. I wouldn’t be fabulous without them.

My advice if you’re young or old, feeling super awkward, being insulted and don’t understand why people are cruel… well it isn’t forever. There are no quick fix fads to change growing as a person or maturing. Just be yourself. Find the right people who champion and support you. Realize that you are beautiful and that beauty will expand. You will feel more comfortable about yourself. Feelings of insecurity don’t change unless you let them. Your appearance will improve if you take an interest in caring for yourself but you have to work on your self-esteem. Someday the chances are that the good looking girl or guy talking to you… wants to talk to you, hear all about your interests and sees your inner/outer beauty. Give them a break and trust that you deserve them.

If you are young or old, pretty and feeling super uncomfortable about how bad some people treat you… realize it's not about you. You are beautiful and people are unhappy with their appearances sometimes. Just be yourself! Try to always be kind no matter what, develop a thicker skin, learn to channel your emotions and develop a voice and interests that don’t rely upon your appearance. Find supportive friends who can relate. Someday that wonderful attractive woman or man will value your intellect, interests and all that is internally/externally beautiful about you.

All girls should know that they are special exactly the way they are. Be whomever you need to be. Resilience is learned. And toughness doesn't make anyone less of a lady. Girls should be allowed to be both feminine and tough if they choose; Play in the dirt and dress up like a princess if their heart desires it. It’s not necessary to compete for looks or love with other women. It’s alright to be competitive for a job or with your goals. My competition is myself. I will always strive to outdo & improve upon myself. 

Are you a kind person? What do you compete for? Who is your competition?

Enjoy living, loving and breathing, 

Kisses, m. 

Dreams ~ Unknown

Dreams of you

Haunt me

Your kiss

Your touch

Although unknown 

Are things...

I crave.

-m.

Outside

Outside... Oh I get out here & there. Spent the last few days outside after spending nearly a week with my legs propped up healing. Fun times! But the real question is do you ever get outside of yourself? Very few people do. They go for what's always easy instead of stepping outside of themselves to try feeling something new.

Here's a 400 from last fall about getting outside of yourself... 

Do you get outside of yourself?

Enjoy! 

Kisses, m.

Emotional

(9-24-2014)

I'm so very emotionally interwoven.

Mentally craving the unknown.

Wanting the connection of his kiss.

Magical, the energy of him dances in front of me.

Teasing me with a look. 

A smile.

Close enough to taste the smoke but he stops.

Running his fingers between my fingers.

Innocently whispering in my ear.

I can't stop looking in those eyes.

Electric.

I'm in heaven when he stares.

Comforted by them and longing for more.

It's too far when he's standing front of me.

But he's enjoying the wait.

Testing my patience that hangs by a breath.

A breathe that takes in his emotions.

Closer until that magical kiss misses

And doesn't connect.

He relishes in this game. 

Knowing that I do too.

We like to watch the other 

As we're circling inward.

Inward.

More intimate than ever we are face to face.

I'm touching him while the swallowing the smoke.

In his space, moving toward his face.

Climbing up his neck with my free fingers.

Trying to harness this connection.

Hold it steady.

Keep it safe. 

My hands harness him completely. 

But I want more.

Waiting. 

Letting him move in.

On the brink of ecstatic 

When he slides his arm around my back.

Pulling me closer.

Giving me another taste of his breathe.

Smoke. 

Smoke that leads the way of intention.

A promise of a kiss. 

Magical energy ready to be shared.

Vibrating beneath the skin my blood pumps fiercely, 

Fastly with passion.

The passion in electricity shocks.

And those shocking eyes send volts up my spine.

I signal for no words.

I could read his mind through his actions.

Breathe, touch and taste

Are showing me more than words.

Words are meaningless. 

Useless vowels can't compete with his hand caressing my face.

Lips tracing the skin on my neck 

As the smoke climbs up and up around us.

But there's only intention.

Anticipation of more.

Tension mounting in my grip.

But I don't concede.

I lean in to pull him closer.

Up close and personal but oh so far. 

I don't know my own patience

When I slide my fingers out of his and around his back.

I pull him nearer to me. 

Taste the smoke and kiss his cheek.

My tease causes a turn. 

He pulls me back

Kissing me hard.

I feel the magic as his heart beats against mine fast.

Without a thought he's become...

Emotional. 

Metta

People forget about things because they choose to do so. If it's important enough a person will do everything not to forget a moment or people. Because people and their moments are forever and impossible to erase. If you are motivated you make someone or something a priority. If not then you don't. I always say: you can't miss someone who doesn't miss you back. Well I'm wrong for saying it that way. So here's the thing: You can miss someone who doesn't miss you back but missing them won't make them miss you back. 

In buddhism, loving-kindness compassion is always the main intention. When you have compassion for yourself then you have compassion for others. Do everything not to hurt others including forget them. How do you find your compassion for others and be mindful of how to treat them? Find love for yourself. When you can't, then you find a way... 

Metta (loving-kindness) is a type of meditation that helps you learn to love yourself and others. It involves identifying with an image or object that easily inspires feeling of love, compassion and warmth. Typically it's best to use oneself as the object for compassion, but some people find this hard as they feel they do not deserve love. If it's easier you can use a friend, family member, a child or an animal as a benefactor for your metta. 

I chose a friend when I first started my metta two years ago. It's amazing because whenever I see this person to this day I still have so much joy and warmth for them. Eventually I learned to transfer this to myself and onto others. You see, the important piece of the puzzle is remember to find someone or something that inspires simple and resolute feelings of compassion and love without worry of reciprocation. 

The point of metta is to connect and experience a sense of unselfish love toward another. Once you find your object, you focus on how you feel about them and let the warmth expand naturally, you can think "may you be happy," "may you be safe" and " may you be healthy" and eventually you turn your metta inward to say "may I be happy" etc., and through that start telling that your critic that says otherwise that you deserve to be happy, healthy and safe. We all do. 

In Buddhism without understanding there's no possibility of true compassion or true love. Remember you must not forget to love yourself first. 

Here's a story about remembering with a flower named after forgetting. 

Do you remember to love yourself?  Do you extend compassion to others? 

Enjoy!
Kisses, m.

Forget Me Not.

Forget Me Not. Why that’s a lovely flower.

Is there someone you want to remind? Well that’s the flower that will do it. It’s certainly the thing with Forget-me-not’s. They’re a flower for…

Wait I’m getting ahead of myself. Do you know what it means? You don’t.

Let me tell you what my Grammy told me long ago. My Grammy told me a story that she would swear happened when she was a girl. There was a man and his wife. You see the man was a solider who often left his wife to go off to fight a battle. Right before leaving he would find the biggest and brightest bouquet of flowers for her. In the middle of the arrangement, next to the marigolds you would find a bunch of Forget-Me-Nots. Whenever he left the man would have his wife pin a Forget-Me-Not to the front of her dress and tell her to wear one everyday until he returned. As long as she wore the flower the man swore he would never forget to find his way home to her.  And sure enough every time he was away she wore the flower until he returned.

What do you think? Of course it’s an old wives tale. Is there more? A little.

According to my Grammy the wife had once forgotten to place a flower in her dress while the husband was away. She continued on like this for days. For every day she did not wear the flower she didn’t hear news from or about her husband. After many days she finally placed one on her dress, her husband immediately returned without fail.

Ok. It’s interesting I’ll give you that. What happened? I suppose she never removed the flower again. And yours? Hopefully it keeps someone reminded for you.

Task

It's hard to tell someone you're working on something without showing them your dedication to the task. I've written and re-written passages from the Novel several times. And held off publishing to do so. Why? Some do not have the hardened tone I had once began with. 

As I started winding down to edit last year I realized that I truly didn't know which parts would fit in the finished product and I began rewriting. I do know I will finish and I am not making excuses. Yes, some characters are harder to process than others. Especially the women in the book. One of them is Jemma and, of course one of my favorites to get into. This is an excerpt written from her and quite unfinished because it's tone is very different from the others and while I want to add to it... I'm uncertain it has a place in the bigger scope of things. What do you think? 

Anyhoo... Do you dedicate yourself fully to a task? 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m. 

Dedicated

(11-2012)

“You’re leading an inauthentic life if you…” trails off the audio book in my newly detailed BMW S-series hybrid sedan that my agent has me driving for the sheer fact that ‘when you’re somebody damn it, then you’re environmentally conscious in this town’ quote unquote.

I am somebody.

Traffic has slowed to a complete stop on the 405 while the wannabe Chopra dictates how to live a more authentic life and instead of really listening all I can focus on is the license plate in front of me that reads BIG THINGS resting above an enormous pair of balls. The larger the balls the bigger the man reads the bumper sticker resting next to the ridiculously extreme nut sack in front of me.

Alton once told me that only the most obnoxious form of trash places those adornments on their cars. We were sitting in front of some newly opened art café in the last years oh so trendy Piedmont district when she carefully pointed out the obvious offender with two of her fingers snuggly secure in a ring containing a pair of obscenely large sapphires on her right hand.  She went on to say, “Men put their ego on display by showing off their balls and women tuck their ego neatly into a pair of overpriced shoes or a piece of jewelry,” before flashing her green finger bobbles above a pair of matching Peacock Louboutins she’d stolen from my closet.

As I stop in the middle of the memory to wonder who she’d stolen the ring from I’m yanked forward when the traffic shifts and the Faux-pra is now telling me to “fully commit to your dream” after saying “anything is possible” before jumping back to the tagline “dedicate your life to authenticity” then disc 5 ends and traffic stops once more.

“If you want your career to go anywhere you have to be dedicated to what you are doing,” Continues Guru Zero as the traffic crawls to a stop and I realize I'm not going anywhere. “How dedicated are you?” 

Graceful ~ Tears

Flying.

Gracefully falling.

And

Counting the days 

down to you. 

My mind distracted 

With the thought

Of you.

Reminding me 

Of the

Aches in my heart.

Because

I am 

A bird

No longer afraid

Of the cage.

I'm 

Wishing

I was there...

I'd give anything

To be there...

To kiss your tears away.

~m.

Losing My Religion

Great song by REM... interesting concept. Cause you can't lose your religion. I'm a non practicing catholic with Buddhist tendencies and I know my religion is still with me & yours is with you. If you ever had one... It's there under your collar between the creases of your shirt but somehow there even when you stop believing. Why? Because you once believed in it. Like love. It's there once it's there. But... You can lose your faith. That's the confusion. People lose their faith in the way things should be instead of accepting them as they are. Now, I think I've lost my faith in a lot of things but humanity, God & the universe aren't any of them. People change, circumstances evolve into good or bad and it's our faith in what happens next that determines how far we will go. Mistakes are made & things change but no one deserves a hardship more than any other person. No matter their misstep against you. I think the universe directs people exactly down the path they need to go, nearer and farther from us at times. Even resistance from the flow of things will pull us in the direction we need to go... Including the wrong one. 

Sometimes I think we have to keep faith, trust ourselves and the universe.

Here's an 400 about losing faith.  

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Faith

(4-19-2010)

Faith. Kneeling in the chapel. Pinned behind the steering wheel of my BMW. My little sister’s wedding. Standing over my fiancé’s grave. Visiting a holy shrine in Israel. Still birth of my first child. When did it happen? There are a thousand places it could have happened, but there is only one place it did. December 22, the south bank of the river is illuminated by the evening sun. Bare cheeks exposed to the cold chill in the air. God wasn’t watching. Couldn’t have been.  Abandoned someone that day, even if it wasn’t me. The river was fuller and faster than the previous winter. Little chunks of snow passed through the rapids like tiny white vessels falling over the edge of the world. Spellbound by the spinning and drifting white, I was never prepared for what came into focus. Small shriveled up pink beneath the surface, visible through the clear water. Almost floating along, a ball connected to a thin pink chord. An unnaturally miniscule and odd misshapen ball with ten little fingers attached to thin tentacles. The current spinning and pulling the bundle along with minimal struggle. Pink dancing in a circle three feet away at the bottom of the icy river bed.  Tiny dancer. Baby boy. Submerged into the chilled water of the winter river. Baptism. Soul purified and released into the world. Downstream. Away from life. Away from an unwanted home. Away from the unwed teenage mother. A cruel punishment for something innocent. Where was God when his mother put him into the water? His mother, the unknown dysfunctional Mary that misunderstood his premature birth, shoves the tiny carcass into the frozen waters of the river in chilly December before resuming life. Delicately the mysterious offspring came to rest in a pool of shallow water along the bank. Calmly I walked towards the lifeless child. Without thinking I removed my scarf and bent down to pick up the small body. As I wrapped the oddly shaped body inside my scarf, I realize that there was never hope for this unwanted creature. Senseless. Faith can’t explain one life over another. There is no master plan. God abandoned him long before. Left him, along with his mother among the flock of unprotected. My unwavering faith now hanging by a thread of hope. A hope that has been dashed away by the absence of life that rest in my hands. 

Floating ~ Caught

Slow dive
And
Free Falling.

Floating.

Although unknown,
I'm
Alive by these
Growing feelings

That ache my heart
In your absence.

Knowing
Open Arms
And Able Hands
Are there
When we're ready...

To be caught.

~m

Dreams ~ Memories

Dreams are like
Memories
We haven't created.

I know your hand is in mine.
But we haven't yet embraced it.

Awake
Knowing the time will come

For our two bodies

To join hands
To link memories
And...

Dream together.

-m.

Free ~ Hearts

These little heartaches

Remind me I'm yours

Not entirely.

Entirely your heart beats free

Away from mine 

A freedom I too enjoy

Until this beating grows

Into aches

To join yours.

~m

Hungry Heart

Can you hunger for someone in their absence? Sure why not... I long to see people when there's a smell or song or thing that reminds me of them. But I also do know that with friendships & loves and in love & hate... you can only hope that the other person feels the same too. 

So why don't I say when they are written? Old loves arrogantly think they're written for are them, New loves are scared it's for them and people who don't know me thinks it's about someone I don't know. I prefer people didn't speculate. I simply wrote a lot once and I still do occasionally. It sometimes fills the night when I cant sleep, draw or photograph. 

And I'm simply in a place I think it would be best to ask your paramours permission before exposing them to the world. 

Here's a story 300.

Do you hunger for people in their absence?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Hungry Heart

“Heart

Hungry,

Ced.

Too long when you're away from my arms in bed.”

This is what Senya Mandras tells her beau before he exits the scene.

Cedric always leaves a quarter to three in the morning. It could be an excuse or non committal action but it's not. She's lucky it's love and he's someone who chose to stay.

A quarter of an hour later reminds her it's been three months since they began at the stroke of 3. 

Night walks are simply unheard of in a small town but nights in large cities draw out bodies like moths to light. 

It was a quiet summer night as she walked home. The spraying hydrant waters ran down the gutters drain and he was chasing stars when they met. As she caught his eye Senya knew that there was no looking back.

It was a minute of recognition. A hunger came over her heart. Looking at this man, she had never seen before left her heart hungry for more.

Chaos of people and screaming children playing in the hot night fell silent as the stars crashed in bringing them together. 

Eyes on fire and hungry to touch Senya moved towards this unfamiliar feeling. Not able to say no and unsure what it meant she leaped forward to see what it intended. 

Attached to the craving was passionate man who hunted stars and the sky's mysteries. Planets and moons that were far away but surrounded by burning light. Senya knew there was nothing else that could satisfy her hungry heart.

Nightly as she watches him leave the bed where they hold each other safe, she knows he longs to touch the sky & his desire for greatness comforts her in his absence...

For her hungry heart burns brighter than the rising sun.

Night

Although I mostly photograph bands, as of late I've been teaching myself to shoot at night using mostly natural light and fill when needed. It's been an interesting, sometimes foggy and chilly experience around town. Again while I don't typically share here... Here's a few.

Do you work at night? Would you like to see me to share more photography here? 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Gratitude

It's never too late to appreciate what you have in life and be grateful for it. I started writing daily during a dark period in my life. I was mesmerized by the darker human emotions because I was amidst them. Needless to say I'm grateful for the dark period, everyone I know and all their support. Without that period of time I would never have created my workingman's fiction and...  here's the first (micro?) story I posted online.

Happy Halloween!

Are you grateful for anything? 

Are you dressing up?

What will you be?

Enjoi!

Kisses, m.

Killing Changes You.

(4-1-09)

“I could get used to this!” was what I thought as I slit his throat with my sharp knife.

The precise blade slid ever so delicately through and through his skin without the slightest bit of hesitation. Blood spilled down his chest blanketing the white button-down shirt in a dark crimson red. I was feeling very much like Hannibal Lecter when I licked the blade clean of his blood. Slowly, as I continue to clean my blade, I watch his body melt into the pool of red liquid on the wooden floor before me. You know what they say, the first time is all it takes to become addicted.

Killing changes you. Once you’ve committed the unspeakable act there’s no turning back. Funny thing was, I knew from that moment on, I was hooked. Who would be my next victim? See after all, this wasn’t planned. It was an opportunity. I seized it! The thrill of taking a life had always been on the top of my “DO NOT SHARE” list. You know that list of dark sadistic things that you just don’t share. Everyone has one, but you don’t speak of it.

I had to wait, like a predator stalking my prey. Watching… waiting... wanting… until just the right… moment. Perhaps this is how Jack the Ripper felt as he chose his victims? And who would catch me? I would be leaving the country in a matter of days. No one would be shocked if I never returned. No one could blame me for walking away from my dead end job, my artistic failure. Again, they might miss him? Doubtful, I surprised him. He wasn’t scheduled to return from his trip for a few more days. You know the type, workaholic, and no next of kin. Only leaves the house for the office and returns back promptly each day. The cleaning lady was the only person who would find the body, and she wouldn’t be returning until Monday. But again, my darkness consumes me and the wheels start to spin.

How many ways can you dispose of a body? Too many! Too FUN! Just as I’m dreaming up new, sick and twisted ways to make a body disappear… BAM! “I guess he wasn’t dead after all,” are my thoughts as I’m falling quick, looking up at this bastard holding his throat with one hand and a large blunt object in the other. I’m Out.

I often wondered what it would be like to be tortured. Today I find out. I’m bound (hands & feet) and gagged. He’s sewn up his neck wound and licking the knife – there’s blood – while I have to watch. “See, I guess two can play this game,” he says. It’s my blood… apparently he’s cut me, ten places I can visibly see in my arms and legs. But from what I can feel there are several more than that.

“You should have made sure I was dead!” With a sick sadistic smile he edges closer to me. “Cause you’ll never leave here now.” He grabs my neck, kneels down and slides the blade down my left cheek. I can feel the blood spill out, downward, as it mixes with my tears. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time,” he whispers in my ear.

Again no one would blame me if I never came back.

Show and Tell

This past weekend I was again fortunate to have the opportunity to shoot yet another performer among many other talented musicians, the lovely and amazing Rebecca Pidgeon. While I'm reluctant to share photo work here because I don't use "the fabulous ms. m" as a brand to promote my photography... Here's some shots from behind the scenes.

Have you heard of Rebecca Pidgeon? 

Do you like her music?

What's your favorite song?

Would you like to see more photography of the performers I shoot?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

how do people get clean?

Tattoo's are interesting things. They have meaning, history, culture and honor behind them or nothing at all. Someone may dislike you or decide not to date you because of your artwork or even because they don't like the men that put them on you. You smile and keep going because the things that will make someone dislike or have a change of heart about you, are quite funny. 

I've spent the better part of ten years trying to decide what & how to get tattoos on my body and it's been a personal journey and process that I recommend to others. Why? My tattoos are symbolic to me. They are a reminder of who I am. You must be true to yourself with something like this. It reflects you. A friend of mine says "you are a samurai, monicaness" and as much as women despise male comparisons for they are often given with the intention to diminish our femininity, I can only agree with him... Much like those loyal warriors I strive to epitomize strength & loyalty by carrying my totem with me and no one's disapproval will make me remove them. (** Of course they hurt, I don't enjoy the pain and I cry afterwards every single time. HUSH**) 

So do tattoo's make a person dirty or undesirable? 

They don't. Some of the things you do aren't things that you can wash off or remove no matter what... And why would you want to? You as a person are fallible, prone to fault while also being amazingly talented and gifted by your experiences. You embrace the things you are, for they complete you. In reality the only thing I struggle with about myself is being a writer because the work is sometimes undesirable to others. Why? Honestly, I don't know. To me, the writing is a blessing but in it's true form & depth, it is darkness. I think this is what non-writers can not fathom... The darkness that is within. It's a strength, animalistic and I am in control of it.

Indeed, darkness is also within us... We are both light & dark. Animalistic though...? Many animals in fact. In buddhism we are connected to the planet, and animals like people are a part of us and give us strength. And in Japanese culture it is a belief that you prepare your body and triumph over pain rather than succumb to it.  In essence you control your pain by owning and numbing it instead of pretending it does not exist. Pain can lead to the darkness that is always a part of us. You can develop a threshold and maintain control or let it consume you. 

So how do people get clean? We don't. You and I cannot wash clean who we are. Well I wouldn't want to... Ever. I don't know about you? For me... To lose one piece, is to lose all. We are all love within our light and dark. You can not be one without the other. Embrace your true nature. If you can't, you must learn to. If you don't, you will never be able to let others embrace and love you completely because you don't. 

Who you are without external negative influences such as drugs, alcohol, etc., is who you should be. When you love someone, including yourself, you accept & honor them entirely with every part of who they are. Dirty or Clean. Writer, designer, artist or photographer... tattoos or no tattoos. Love yourself more and someone will love the true you. And you find love in exactly who they are too.

Personally, I could never be with a man who doesn't embrace that I have tattoos, that I travel, that I am both a writer & a visual person because he wouldn't be in love with who I was if I needed to change. Dark & light. Strength and Loyalty. Without one you can not have the other. I will always be both yin&yang. Get it? You can't change to make someone love you. You have to love yourself. No ultimatum will make me choose not to be myself or more like another woman to please a man. Another man will love all of me as I am. Someone will love all of you as you are. It's not a risk. Trust it.

Are there things you've done that you can't wash off?

Would you remove things from your past if you could? Why? 

Do you have tattoos? 

Would you ever get one? 

Want to remove one? 

Enjoy!
Kisses, m.

Merlot

Do people surprise you? They rarely surprise me. But I simply keep being me, because eventually any person not being authentic to themselves will slip up & the truth is revealed to all. So... Merlot used to happen to be my favorite kind of wine. A half glass with dinner or a cigar in the evenings to relax. Savor the taste. Let the feeling creep up into my bones... And enjoy. Nowadays I especially enjoy an Old Vine Zinfandel. Indeed, sometimes with my yoga. 

Here's the 2nd (micro?) story I shared online. It was inspired by 4am TV and those amazing knife infomercials while drinking a glass of Merlot. 

Do you drink wine? 

Do you like Merlot?  

Do you watch TV at 4am?

Have you read this story before?

What's your song of the day?

Enjoy! 

Kisses, m.

Madness Consumes Me
(4-28-09)

Madness consumes me. I wonder how many fingers I’ve cut off before I began to mince his arm into tiny little pieces using one of those ‘Magic Knife’ things. You know, one of the knives that cuts through cans; the ones advertised at 4:08 am in bad TV infomercials. Those infomercials meant for no one really; the same ones that infest your TV when your eyes can barely stay open and your mind won’t give in to sleep.

Yes! It is sharp enough to cut through cans and apparently bones too. And the Puree setting on the blender should do the rest. Our blender is the same one they use on the astronauts’ food.

Advanced.
Sophisticated.

You see, he always had to have the newest technologically advanced gadgets. If it was new and had the red stamped approval, he had to have it. Not that either of us were ever here to use them. We were hardly ever here. The maid used our kitchen more than either of us these days and that was mostly for cleaning. At least these devices finally came in handy. However, grinding up bones was never the purpose intended.

Nonetheless it worked.

Betty Crocker and Martha Stewart couldn’t have been prouder of me. I’ve crafted my murder into a tidy household project, minus the bows and ribbons on this and there won’t be any need to pre-heat the oven. Garbage disposal should digest my puree nicely.

Now what did this poor bastard do to end up on the right side of my trash compactor? He tried to kill me. I never saw it coming. Some people never get it, but I feel pretty naïve, cause I never saw this.

Well, somehow I got the upper hand, so it’s him in little pieces and not me. How? He poisoned the wine.

Red.
Merlot.
My favorite.

The dumb bastard mixed up the glasses. I never did understand how anyone could go through so much trouble to accomplish something and then completely screw things up so badly. You’d think he would have caught something like that.

Again I never saw this coming. Naïve. Deer in headlights. Love turned badly; turned to hate quicker than I could blink. If he had got things right, I quietly would have drifted off just as he did…

What were we talking about? Oh yes, we were talking about improvisation, how it’s a dying art, when he quietly slid down and slumped over in his chair. How did I know about the wine? See I hadn’t taken a drink of mine yet. Sometimes I get so passionate in my beliefs that I don’t stop talking to breathe, let alone take a sip of wine. And the wine was all we had…

After I checked his pulse I realized "Oh God, he's dead." I think most people freak out in situations like this and call the emergency services. I don’t know why I remained so calm. Systematically I went through his pockets and found his plans, notes and letters, my suicide note, and an insurance policy.

I honestly thought he loved me, but as I read these notes while sitting at the table next to his body, I began to realize how much he’d really grown to despise me. Somehow our relationship had become a competition - a struggle to him. Seriously, I never saw this coming. I never thought I’d love someone so deeply and in reality he hated me so truly.

I open a new bottle of merlot and prepare to finish my task at hand.

Chop. Dice. Puree.