Thursday, October 11, 2012


I never read Alice In Wonderland. I plan on it eventually. I feel like there are certain books that you just have to read, like it's disrespectful to not read books of that magnitude. Books that have survived the test of time and keep on going. Books that have changed lives and brought a message to anyone that fed their mind with it. Especially the ones that have a message, even if you can't understand the message until years later. I saw the Disney movie of Alice in Wonderland. (of course) Truth be told, the cheshire cat freaked me out when he would just pop up places. But now, my recently-turned-twenty-seven self is thinking about the rabbit. The rabbit always checking his clock. I've learned that as an adult, we are all chasing the clock. We just want to catch it, sit it down, and don't let it move. You want to yell at it at the same time that you beg for mercy. Pleading through gritted-teeth for just one free day, at this point you say hell with the day. You'll take an hour, just one free hour that won't go down on the books. Please, Time! Please just help me! Be on my side for once! At least just slow down, or at least add some minutes! But Time doesn't listen, and that bastard clock just sits and stares at you scathingly, head half-cocked.          One of the saddest realizations of adults is time is never on your side, it's been you this whole time. You just have to realize that you are the pimp and Time is YOUR bitch. I hope the wasn't offensive, but I don't really care if you do. This is my blog, this is where I have the freedom to write down my words. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm, freedom.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Spring Fling

I usually have some kind of background ambiance, whether it's the latest hipster gossip in a coffee shop, some t.v. show, or music. My dweeb-dwellings, but at this moment, it's the man of my dreams working on lyrics at my cluttered and totally girllied-out desk. Oddly enough, I'm sitting in his studio and his giant, musical-man station. You could say, cheesily, it's "where the magic happens". But it's true. I'd say this is a first for us, I guess that's where the moment struck him, and I don't want to disturb the direction of his flow, wherever it's going, but he is pretty damn excited about it. I love the sounds of glee the I hear through the open door. (As I sat typing this, he walked in on me, I was just about to type that this occurrence happened more than likely because he more than likely assumed I would be sitting on the couch) My assumptions were correct after I let him read what I had just wrote after he started giggling about how I was at a desk. My Baloo. I love when he giggles. He is my mansquatch, at a stature between 6"4 and 6"5 he isn't the most tiny man, wearing his at least 275 lb figure like a suit of armor. If you think about it, Baloo the bear was also a rapper, "When you pick a paw-paw or a prickly-pear, and you pick a raw paw, well next time beware....." and so on. I love Disney movies. Like most women, I'm a sucker for a fairy tale. Beautiful woman, man of her dreams, and badass high heels. My fairy tale has came true, but like most women, of my generation, fairy tales have quickly been stomped out like a fire, ignited by the flames of passion. I refuse(d) to believe that dreams cannot come true, aside from the obvious "I wish I had real pink unicorn with golden hooves for a pet".
             With every day that I am truly in love, I think of how I learned what real love was. I saw my Mama fight for it. I saw her relentlessly try to make it work, in every scenario. Through all the tears, there was a purpose. My Mama taught me how to survive in love, one of the biggest tests of our lives. If you can come out of heartbreak stronger, that is what the relationship was there for. They say "Hell hath no fury, like a woman scorned", and we know that an angry woman is a force to be reckoned with, and my Mama showed her ass, all the while teaching her daughters to fight for what you want and don't take any shit. As a woman, I'd say she's pretty on-point. I know she has regrets, and which one of us doesn't, but Pamela Marie has taught me all the survival skills in love, complete with a  first-aid kit of sayings that will accompany you as mantras on the path of righteousness. My personal favorite, "You have the world by the balls". She has never faltered in telling her children how much we deserved to be loved, how much we deserved to be happy, and how much to love. Such girls that believe in fairy tales need their tour guides to show them the heart-workings and how to spot a true prince. She's bound to disagree with a prince from time to time, but that's just the lioness protecting the cub. With Mother's Day approaching fast, I hate that I won't be able to give her a hug and thank her another day for being her.
           I'm sorry if you don't have a mother like mine, but I'm sure you have someone that has had that affect on you, and if not, you can get a hold of my mom, she is there for anyone whenever she can. I told her not too long ago, even if her children don't always get along famously, she taught us all to be generous, kind, and forgiving. (Unless you've screwed us over more than twice since she has always given people a second chance, but more than that and you're pushin it)
         Anyways, I know this has been a long blog and I appreciate your reading. I know it's not the usual tune of my shenanigans, but I feel like a different chord has been struck recently and I must go with the melody. I hope you all have a wonderful spring, and may you all be safely flung.

                                                                                                    Yours truly,


Friday, May 4, 2012

When the Moment Spanks You

Sometimes you have to work, sometimes you have to eat, and sometimes you just need to sit the fuck down and let your fingers communicate your words on keys to a screen. Give the world a taste of the words that are scrolling fast through the front of your eyes like a marquis displaying the best bargains in town. Well, here it is, the best Breezy in town, sweet with a sour some folks. Every time I want to sit down and write I get side-tracked. I always want to watch something or play something, read something or listen to something, or eat something, or drink something...... or smoke something.(I'll leave that to your wild imaginations) So many things that I have to choose from. Life is full of choices, seems like everyone says that, but it is. One of life's truest statements. Right now, at this very moment, I'm choosing to type, to sit in my desk chair that has a slightly comfortable lean to it, to watch the t.v. out of my side-vision, just so I can see the movements of the ultimate fighters that are almost dancing to the Chopin that I am choosing to guide me in the flow of my words. Like my name, I flow.
                  A few months have gone by since I've last wrote and I apologize, mostly to myself. As a human enjoying this life, it is of my choosing to decide what happens by the choices I make. Choices, choices. I am struggling with my choice to write this blog and fighting the other part of my brain that is begging me to pick up the paperback and watch from afar as Anastasia Steele tries to piece together the "fifty shades of fucked up" puzzle that is Christian Grey. That E.L. James sure knows what an 80's baby likes to feed her soul, and apparently soccer-moms from what I've read.
                   You are choosing to read this, dipping your toes into my brain-pool. Trust me, the waters fine. I think more people need to write. I think more people need to talk about who dwells inside and let the world know who you are, who knows, we might see each other for far more fascinating than the original perception. Unfortunately, so many people choose to lock themselves up, caging themselves. Let your soul sing, express yourself in the only way you know how because that's the agreement that your heart and mind shook on. Ugh, this piano is making me sappy, I want to cuss and talk about hairs that get stuck in the back of your throat during oral sex and make you almost throw up. (It's so funny when they think it's because of how big they are) ;) That was one for my ladies. See, when I type dirty words to a beautiful piano-piece it feels like I just spray-painted over the Mona Lisa. I choose to be raunchy yet classy. I choose to love. I choose to wear my boyfriends Adidas pants and a mis-matched long-sleeve shirt with my hair in a rat's nest on top of my head. I choose to tell you about my choice to be me. The battle that is truly good vs. girly-evil. I promise to do my best to be me, as long as you promise to just..... Be you.