written. spoken. raw.
I've recently learned that most adults don't keep lists of people they don't date. Those people are now number 5.
The happiest moment in her life. Captured.
When Facebook posts become full-blown series... Presenting Miss Celie's Blues: Life Lessons from The Color Purple. Part One: Compassion. Get you some.
Trust me. Pigs make better swimmers. & Probably better partners...
Sometimes you need to get away. Sometimes you come back.
sunshine & storms. rainbows & butterflies. thunder & lightning. all necessary.
i hate being hurt. i know. i mean, who out there among us can say that being hurt is one of their favorite things?
not that anyone has really required me to teach them to phonetically pronounce rachel. (although you'd be surprised how my two syllables have been butchered. i sure as hell am.)
because people who love themselves, love themselves. for reals. without need for affirmation or validation from any other soul.
because someone has to do it.
one of my first poems. written about a horrible restaurant experience at a trip advisor top rated restaurant in barcelona. bad words flowed from an even badder meal. :p
everything that i see in this world is a reflection of what is happening within.
who gossips to you will gossip about you. #truth
"a diligent man, good with his hands..."
"i'm turning my tv off..."
bitches don't necessarily like hugs. but they sure need one. or twenty.
if i have to do extra exercise to define a person's role in my life, umm... we can't be friends.
because you ain't real unless you read this list!
the truth about imitation. ain't a thing sincere about it. and/or flattering.
honor your truth. honor their truth. because it's awfully hard to walk in another's shoes while they're walking in them.
shame! shame on all those who are out there shaming others.
if you don't create healthy boundaries for yourself, who will?
now this is a story all about how, my life got flipped turned upside down... in the best and worst year of my life.
unresolved divorce and daddy issues don't make good dance partners.
there is nothing, i mean nothing, more freeing than telling yourself the truth...
he moves like music, sounds of big band jazz...
because it feels comfortable... like a favorite sweater made of rose thorns, three sizes too small..
that little string traveled to more places than most people i know have gone. often joined by sticky airplane tags and similarly attached train and bus tags, my faithful companion held on as i jaunted about...
i must be ice cube.