What do you want to do? A guide for living

With social media as a coparent, our identities and personal brands are crafted alongside, often before, many of our standard life lessons are presented. We invite folks to judge the canvas on which we think, curate, and log. I’ve learned in recent years that sharing from a place of truth opposed to control changes its reception, and I like this shift. The dangerous crossover lies in real life when someone has crept online before getting to know us authentically in-person. What if the online messaging contrasts with the human one wants to believe you are? What if someone has crafted an image of who you are from real-life interactions, and then gains access to a “TMI,” (or “too much information,”) overflowing of inner worlds that makes them feel betrayed because they haven’t put in the work to connect the dots in-person? Harsh way to phrase it, but, brevity; and certainly not universal - workin’ on percolation.

That’s a tangent I wasn’t intending to make this morning.

At what point do we start living beyond the meticulously crafted persona? At what point do we let ourselves off the hook, particularly if we are not in a position of power? Often I feel we are very hard on our Leaders when we ourselves lift nary a finger. Perhaps this is where intention is important: are you Leading for Power, or are you leading because it’s the right thing to do; or circumstance? I’ve learned that different classes of people have different morals: political, romantic, professional. If we are not in a position of Power, shouldn’t we celebrate our political freedom of Being? Frankly, I don’t have to be any one particular idea for anyone right now. Isn’t that rich?

I’ve felt a great guilt owning my label as Artist. I really have. Because I know, from real life, that we all have expansive, often dense, varying perspectives, stories, and traumas — some of us have not dug deep yet and some of us have. I need art. I have always felt an impassioned connection to truth. Deep and painful truths at times. I protect myself. Part of me does want to listen to each and every one of you with great intention so that I may pour love and understanding into you; because I’ve been at a place where I needed this, and because I genuinely love people. My family loves people, even when we forget—we are all whiny babies but we love people. Relatively, I’ve been lucky and I do not wish to draw villains despite a cacophony of wrongdoings; great deal of emotional (and otherwise) pain since I was a child, but we are adults now and responsibility is shared. This shit is passed down; see: generational. My parents had it tough, and I had it tough because they had it tough, etc. The work that I’ve put in to understand where this toxicity comes from and how to navigate through it is artistic. I know that we are all artists with varying levels and directions of intention, and resources.

The truth is, now, I am still managing the practicalities of survival from limited resources. This makes me angry because many of us are bound to a life of work that can’t make room for healthy expression and/or peaceful connection. My most successful balance has been maintaining one full-time job that covered my expenses with little left over, and maniacally writing, painting, drawing, playing music, exercising, cooking… in my spare time. Most of us can’t get by with one job anymore, even with a degree from the University of Georgia and two decades of intentional hard work. Most of us can’t afford the time, space, or resources to express frustration or joy respectfully - on a canvas. Yet, Leaders easily make over 6-figures, take vacations, have multiple homes, and sometimes aren’t even baseline kind to you in passing.

THIS IS WHERE things get tricky: in many ways, we are taught the rules. Play the part.

As an artist, your mission is truth.

Historically, we’ve seen that rules and truth don’t always align. Now, I do appreciate rules and they have been a glorious guideline for how I navigate through life. In fact, I quite like the rules because I do believe in good intent; an idea gleaned from DEI discussion guidelines from an organization I worked for in the past.

Many of the folks I’ve known who are Leaders making over 6-figures, I can appreciate. Some of them have given me life-changing advice; some, opportunities. Some took me under their wing and taught me how to do this thang (life) better. My hesitations arrive from clear difference in reality. We can’t forget that these folks are human, too. I don’t deny their hard work and dedication, and their apparent gratitude for the circumstantial luck and earned opportunity. But your standards are, and should be, different. So mutual curiosity is necessary as I come from deep roots in the red-clay ground where abuse was once functional.

Can I be a proper leader (lowercase l) while maintaining this identity as Artist? What if stepping into my power as an artist is leading? An artist who seeks to connect emotionally, spiritually, and mentally, while not causing any sort of political unrest — this is happening on its own. What if my connection to money is terribly harmed, so sharing is service, while work is duty? I honor, respect, and celebrate the hands that feed me, which I’ve also learned working for a particular organization in the past - my forms of expression are independent. In fact, perhaps supportive, as I believe in the value of capitalism. (I do, I’m sorry! It gives us purpose, routine, and structure.) And creation lightens us, to be able to fully focus on the work you are paid to do. Is this a worth thing? That I can barely fathom a life where…

In my dreams, I am a full-time artist making enough money to responsibly build upon a life I’ve already been living. However, contract work and tax-handling are not somethings I love to manage; I fear breaking rules, and is that stress worth the compromise? The benefit of regular full-time jobs… are the benefits. And, I consider the long-term impacts of pursuing and supporting your own vision—I’m not a blood-thirsty whipper-snapper. (Is this phraseology okay?) So what if our dreams are meant to be separate? What if the art I create is a mere escape from the mundane for that very purpose? To do this full-time, I might get lost. You’d need the backing of a proper organization to keep you in line and constitute expectations. When it comes to work connected to income, my greatest asset tends to be communicating with people; not perfectly straight lines and flawless grammar. So real-life: interpersonal; human. I’m the person you’d “love to grab a drink with.” Or, I once was.

I hate to be a stick in the mud about all this. Some folks, I absolutely encourage to be full-time artists because they have the clear talent and will to lead them to the right resources for boundless success. Personally, even with these signs and opportunities of my own, and pushes from friends, I’m not willing to publicly escape myself - particularly when I don’t feel resolved in very meaningful areas of my life here on the ground. At real work, I am here to listen to you: What do you need?

What if what I have to say is not important?

And what if it is?

Peace to ya. Mad love to you, if I know you. If I don’t, I hope we meet and chat one day.

Alright, bye.

capacity for joy

It’s important to stay grounded. Maybe it’s because I’m a Taurus twin, Scorpio moon, Cancer rising; Libra mother, Leo father. Maybe it’s because I fear I view the world dangerously different, not because of longtime closeted queerness and abuse, but because I had two injuries on the same area of my head as a kid. Maybe it’s because I value people and my ability to connect with them, and there are so many different realities out here and I’d like to be respectful of each, particularly if it’s one that isn’t hurting anyone or could teach me something.

Regrettably, my game has been being good—doing my best. It’s such a noble pursuit… and I’m a little tired of it. I do not regret decisions I’ve made because I learn deeply and meaningfully. Experience has been a glorious teacher to me. There are still some I’d like to have, and I just might.

Sometimes, along this quest for goodness… I’ve found that I lost touch with myself. We are good, but sometimes we are bad—we are full people.

Simultaneously, I do think it is very important for some people to BE GOOD - men, for instance. Why? Because they’re strong and powerful, and whether we consciously acknowledge it or not, have historically been our leaders.

What I’ve learned is that some people, unfortunately, inherently, think you’re bad if you’re queer. I’ve tried for so long to pretend I wasn’t queer for overall comfort and peace—like maybe if I put our collective nervous system over my own human experience, as if I were playing God, shepherding people calmly around me as I observed from above, we could all be happy. And I find myself alone. I find myself distancing from friends and family. While I romanticize solitude in the name of an artistic pursuit, and still believe in its value, I am still human. I’m gross. I get annoyed. I very get annoying. I have flipped birds in ATL traffic.

And when you’re a queer not queering, you’re essentially non being. (Perfect logic?) (Partial joke.)

I do fear being too joyful—there, I’ve said it. Will I float away?

“You’ve already shown your capacity for pain—what if now it’s time for life to show you your capacity for joy?”

It’s a real toughie because I am always reminded of “an injustice anywhere is an injustice everywhere.”

Where is the line? How do you choose?

"Empowered Women Empower Women"

You’re 33 years old. Have stepped completely out of the closet for the first time in your life not too long ago. You find yourself surrounded by familiar friends, and family, some who don’t seem to understand that you’re not the same person you once were, and this is okay. You’re also still yourself, and there’s no desire to escape that anymore in this newfound freedom. Since you didn’t have the resources, and let’s face it- talent, to go off to a big school pursuing your dream of becoming an actress, you refocus on something much more valuable: how to exist in this world as a working person, and how to enjoy it.

Some friends have stuck with it, their arts degrees and dream-made pursuits. Some friends have found their ways back to it in some form or fashion. I worked. And I worked, and I worked, and I worked, with nary a moment to spare.

In school, I was overly independent, and then overly codependent when I stumbled into a clique formed from theatre. After high school, I found myself grieving as I was suddenly alone and not following through with the dream that gave me an outlet for my desires in years past. My regular activities included writing in coffee shops, mountain biking, and visiting my local library to check out whichever Kate Winslet movie they had available. When I stepped into the Disney College Program, which was some hard work, I spent my free time going to the gym, and reading/tanning by our lake; sometimes going to the parks for a long walk and people-watching if I was feeling particularly patient.

By some grace of God, I applied for and was accepted to the University of Georgia while I was finishing up my second program at Disney. Wasn’t sure of what to study, so I eventually landed on Communication Studies with a minor in Theatre, because I knew I liked both of these things; and frankly, they didn’t have any sort of study abroad program associated with a large tuition cost that I had to worry about funding alongside attendance. And I loved it. Again, spent every free moment studying in a coffee shop or library, socializing/networking with new and old connections alike, volunteering locally for theaters, art shows, elementary and high schools, working part-time in hospitality out of curiosity and necessity, participating in leadership programs and leading administrative efforts for clubs in my college, exercising in our campus gym nearly every day, and exposing myself to the practice of buddhism… I was certainly exhausted but liked staying active, and liked my roommates knowing not to depend on my presence as I had a limited amount of time to experience a lot in this culturally rich college town, and know how quick I am to platonically link up with another - I am a twin, after all.

New York City had always been the goal, and was lucky to be hired by Yelp out of college - they gave me a small relocation stipend, and I didn’t give my parents much choice. Had some generous friends not only welcome me into their social worlds up there, but gave me a couch to crash on as I found the right space, and helped me secure another part-time job (working on Broadway!) (selling merch,) which scratched a specifically magical itch. Must admit that my time in New York, about 13 months, is sort of a blur - it was busy. I lived a lot of life. While it was exciting, I remember being in my room in my shared Brooklyn brownstone apartment before heading off to an event thinking, “I wish I could just stay home…”

My body was sore, my shoes were filthy, the streets smelled of days-old vomit and piss, and I often didn’t have the gumption to bike instead of subway, so I spent a lot of time waiting for trains—until eventually I rediscovered the joy of long walks.

Had started coming out of the closet as a gay woman to new friends, but in reality, my sexuality was a distant idea I had to continue verbalizing and come into. It was something I had long since categorized, compartmentalized, and shut away, because I felt wrong—shame is one toxic poison that I sat with for far too long. Dated the tiniest amount, but wasn’t ready. Still had some understanding of myself to do before I shared.

So yes, I moved back down south to Atlanta because some friends and family strongly encouraged the path amidst my unknowing of what to do, and I worked, and I worked, and I worked. Followed advice given to me by professionals I looked up to in my industry. Kept doing comedy because I love it—it pulls me out of myself, and is a fun place to let the mind wander with structure, and to let the spirit play in earnest. Was super lucky to find Theatre Administration (particularly Arts Marketing) and LOVE(D) the work.

When I got back home from NYC, I found out that my twin brother had attempted suicide. This changes us. Particularly as someone who was very hard on this twin brother, and took out a lot of her own self-hate on him; this changes a person. (He was mean too but these sorts of blame-games matter less upon raised stakes—he had brain and I had brawn.) So- flunked out of NYC, almost lost my twin brother, and faced some bullies; which was a good mirror for some of my own past behaviors rooted in hurt. As a little kid you have this little pure heart but are listening to the voices around you; those perspectives craft how you see the world. And that hurts, from many directions. With age, I have put in a lot of work to decipher what is mine and what is others’. And then, what from others is misunderstanding, assuming, and close-minded. (Cut to: never perfection.)

So I worked, and I worked, and I worked; and it looked a little different this time. Instead of chasing something outside of myself, I learned to sit with me—I learned to listen to myself. Not just the following through of my own solo adventures, but a step-by-step uncovering of who I am beneath neuroses and unintentional games and tests, rebuilding a self aligning with some sort of integrity—something innate, who was here the whole time. And this didn’t happen by my own brilliant revelation—it came from putting my value in the hands of some folks who didn’t need it. Perhaps some folks who had already done this work on themselves. Perhaps some folks who are just cruel, is the fear—let’s not believe this.

This grieving process was a bit different. It was slow, and it was long, and it was filled with so much anger. An anger that comes from realizing how long, particularly as a woman—a queer woman from the south who comes from little resources—that I had been gaslit into believing myself to be someone who doesn’t belong.

Women are powerful. Good folks who choose a purpose beyond their own ego are who I aspire to be more like. I have no respect for someone who preaches one thing publicly and does something totally different behind closed doors. For instance: take accountability, apologize, and change. Better yet: practice real empathy. It is okay to be kind, assholes.

An earth-shattering lesson: Listen. to. yourself. And if you’re feeling extra bold: align.

I am not who I once was… and yet, I am wholly more myself. Peace.

Hair, Do Care

A set of twins was born, a boy and a girl. I, being the girl, was placed in pink. Those early days of childhood were rich as I was flowered with attention for being, well, a flower. Boys chased me. It was annoying but I felt high - the power was a rush, even for a kid.

As I grew older, my body didn’t continue to reflect “my” vision of what I thought it should be for my set of demographics. Why were my hands big? Why did that kid in my 7th grade class call-out my shoulders for resembling that of a linebacker’s? Why wasn’t I always getting the roles I wanted in Drama despite my projected charisma (admitted delusion,) and why wasn’t I always chosen to be featured on marketing materials? Why didn’t my dad let me sign up for the beauty pageant with my friend? Why weren’t people being as easily kind to me?

“The higher you climb the harder you fall”?

So it’s a rough sort of introduction to the world; despite sweet messaging from our elders: apparently, appearances do matter. Our minds are powerful, but we are, so much, a circumstance of the world around us. A girl who doesn’t resemble our ideals of Girl can be seen as just wrong. As I’m sure you know, too; before we’ve been exposed to something or learn to understand it, our introduction is spooked - “what is that?!” As empathetic people, we feel that. A consistent self-reflection asking “what the heck is wrong with me?”

There is a cherished inner power that emerges from such turmoil: attitude; and ultimately, work ethic.

Okay.

Before the family divorced when I was 14-going-on-15, my mom had always appeared lovely to me. She was slender with elegant features, had a classic sense of style that inspired me like muses in the movies, and made herself up. You felt her power. She was also a hair-stylist before becoming a teacher, and she named me after a beautiful girl she babysat with the same name many years before I was born. So, hair.

We never fully understood each other, until moreso recently. Her experience growing older was night-and-day compared to mine - I’ll save that story for another day. But my hair held a bit of pride and joy for her. She loved it long. Sometimes she cut bangs, she tried highlights a few times - it was always *pretty*. For the first thirty years of my life, I made sure to wake up early to clean and style it. Good hair days made the day better. As I got older (like in my 20’s and moved away,) I started going to salons. Would still honor the general aesthetic of “pretty girl.” Simple cuts; resembled the masses around me with a subtle flair, just to fit in but to know that I was different. This is fine, but the folks I admired for their boldness tried on many styles…

I colored it a few times; chopped at the shoulder a time or two when I needed a change…

Okay. So. At 33 years old, I have shaved my head.

And I grieved!

I had no idea.

Never in a million years did I think the exposure from doing something like this would strike me to the core. Nothing to hide behind. Nothing to twirl. Yes, I run my hands atop my scalp 100x/day, but I wasn’t expecting the shedding of a past self - is how it feels.

I don’t think it will be the last time I do this, honestly. It’s not that I love the look or think it’s particularly flattering, but I feel so free. People who see it and understand are instant family. Family who see it and ask questions are trusted. It suddenly only takes me a quick 30-minutes to get ready, tops…

Gender is a fascinating construct. I am a woman. I feel like a woman. I was sort of raised like a man alongside my twin brother, taught to uphold certain values, and how to lead… but I neglected my femininity. I still contorted to a male-gazed identity of what a woman should be, but femininity runs deeper than the projections we see on tv and in magazines. I love my femininity. I am a woman with broad shoulders, big boobs, a hormone belly, calves to write home about, and big ol’ hands and feet. I love those hands and feet. I love those calves, I love that belly, I love my titties, and I love my broad-ass shoulders. I am grateful that my systems function properly and rejoice in that freedom to live how I choose to right now — not everyone gets this. While I get this freedom, can I nurture myself in ways that will set me up better for tomorrow? Maybe I could understand this hormone belly. Maybe I can focus on the rest of my body, instead of my hair, and craft it as a tool for my own fulfillment. It has already given me such a full life. I wanna build on that — invest in this. And if you need help carrying something? I’m strong.

Shake it off. Exercise them demons. Keep going. Listen.

Who are you?

miracles

Can I just stick up for myself for a second?

I am human; both bad and good shit has happened to me. In response, I am very tough. Sometimes, I wish I were less so because my ability to freely connect with folks has become an obstacle course where I observe for any building perceptions that I might be able to dodge. There are very few people who I am able to let my guards down with, and even those consist of hidden mines I forgot were placed.

As I’ve written previously, I do not know what I am doing in career-land. Frankly, I feel a fire under my buttocks to get this all figured out. (Make the decision! Okay. And make a plan.) Today is a relatively free day. I’m propelled by the practice of writing something here, doodling my daily doodle, trying to connect with people out there…

I live in Atlanta - a major metropolis filled with culture and opportunity - and I’m looking out to the ether for connection with you.

Okay, queer. Yes, queer. There is so much complication surrounding this existence. Philosophies continue to ferment, and I believe in/value this time to continue to ground in myself, as the brave decision of being an out queer person grows from fantasy/monster-in-the-shadows to effervescent/spooky reality - sorry. I don’t know how to communicate the trauma that comes from being closeted. No one else’s path is mine to consider, (unless direct,) but I am essentially a 33-year-old kid. I’m lost. My friends and family have been patient, and I’m in this strange feeding phase wondering if I even deserve that. It’s sad! We press forward, folks.

Lots of shame through the years. Wanting attention for being what I thought people wanted me to be. How glorious it is to settle into your safest self?

16 JULY

Miracles

Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.

To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.

To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim — the rocks — the motion of the waves — the ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?

Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

fundamentals

Back in ye olde days of various social media Notes, Bulletins, and Blogs, oh my, folks would do these little questionnaires. It’s a practice I’ve sort of stuck with. Am going to do a few of them here, today, as an exercise and cleaning before I step into the day. Feel free to ask yourself these questions if you feel compelled.

Weird Questions to Ask:

  1. Who is the fourth person on your missed calls?
    Cole! That makes me happy; not that I missed his call—love some Cole.

  2. What shirt are you wearing?
    An athletic tank top I’ve had for 10+ years, and an unflattering but soft, brown h&m sweater over that

  3. Warm lighting or bright white lighting?
    WARM

  4. What’s a saying you say a lot?
    It’s a made up saying but “beignet, donut.” Also, lately, “you live and you learn.”

  5. What’s your least favorite mode of transportation?
    Fun! Skateboard?

  6. Which thoughts bring you a wave of relaxation?
    Breakfast, the idea of being some sort of arts therapist, the ocean (less of the sand,) family and old friends.

  7. Which is one show that you cannot watch with anyone?
    I used to sneak-watch NEXT in my bedroom at night as a kid. (NEXT was live-action Tinder - toxic intro to dating!) THE L WORD was my sneaky show in college. I’m not sure I have a solo-necessary show today.

  8. Do you find pets friendlier than humans?
    Often

  9. What historical figure would you like to have a chat with?
    Socrates? and Plato? C. S. Lewis? Jesus? Marcus Aurelius? Eleanor Roosevelt? Frida Khalo? Ayn Rand? David Hume and René Descartes? Dr. Seuss. Louis Sachar (who is still alive!!!)

  10. You can flip a switch that will wipe any band or musical artist off the earth?
    (This is none of my business!)

  11. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?
    Mean people.

  12. Is there anything hanging in your room that motivates you?
    right now, any mirror…

  13. If you could add a single option to your car, what would you add?
    complimentary maintenance

  14. Name the top five things to take with you during a zombie outbreak.
    1. my Amazon guitar, 2. Blundstones, 3. lots of socks, 4. backpack, 5. snacks

  15. How would you quickly dispose of a dead body in a hotel room?
    Let’s assume that it’s a rodent, and I would call the front desk, and then check out

  16. When was the last time you screamed at the top of your lungs?
    I yelted my heart out in the shower not too long ago - it included similar sounds

  17. Did you ever have a crush on your best friend’s boyfriends?
    Current besties, and seriously, no. Past besties, and jokingly- I’ve been known to be charmed by a Ben or two 😂

  18. When was the last time you literally stopped to smell flowers?
    Had to have been within the last week. Gardenias, man.

  19. What is your favorite form of exercise?
    Favorite? Swimming? Hiking? Pilates? Walking! Sometimes running to really get it out.

  20. What songs are included on the soundtrack to your life?

PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTIONS FOR KIDS:

  1. What makes a person good?
    Intention; follow-through. openness; consideration. Empathy. Integrity

  2. Is it ever okay to tell a lie?
    Recently I’ve learned that sometimes it might even be necessary. (I sincerely do not like to though, as I’m very bad at it, and the memory is too poor to hold on to the tales!)

  3. What does it mean to be brave?
    Aligning with your own integrity

  4. Can something be funny and serious at the same time?
    hmm. Can be.

  5. Why do people dream?
    (Which version of dream are we talking here?) I believe there is something spiritual to it. A blueprint or communication of sorts.

  6. What is friendship?
    A consistent choosing of one another - a safe and trusted co-creation. For me, it is also honest, encouraging, and makes you better.

  7. Is there anything that lasts forever?
    I wouldn’t know. Hopefully Life

  8. What makes you, you?
    A specific set of circumstances; and perhaps how you choose to react/respond to them.

  9. Why do people get scared?
    Because sometimes we just don’t know. And sometimes we’re listening to our intuition.

  10. What does it mean to be kind?
    I think, keeping an open heart and mind. perhaps service-oriented.

  11. Is it possible to know what animals are thinking?
    Maybe

  12. What makes a family?
    Commitment.

  13. Why do we have rules?
    Order.

  14. Can you be happy without any friends?
    I don’t think so.

  15. What does it mean to be rich?
    Lots of money. Wealth is different. Although there is a “rich in spirit”…

Depression Journal Prompts to Get Unstuck:

  1. List 3 things that you love about yourself
    body, heart, and brain

  2. Talk about a difficult time in your life that you managed to overcome
    will circle back to this

  3. Share a favorite quote and how it inspires you
    ”We become what we love.”
    Reminds me to ease up on myself.

  4. What did you achieve today?
    (bleh, achievement.) It’s still morning - we’ll see

  5. Talk about a happy memory
    I think back to my grandmother’s house with my twin brother and cousins - we were featured in the local newspaper for creating a hut out of umbrellas in the front yard.

  6. Describe your biggest accomplishment in life so far
    ”Don’t make me sing”

  7. How do you think depression holds you back in life?
    Part of me wonders if it’s necessary. I think it connects you with yourself if you really sit with it and listen. I think it can prevent you from deepening relationships with other people around you, and that’s hard—but it can also strengthen relationships when honest about it.

  8. Name 3 songs that help to lift your mood when you feel low
    “Make Someone Happy,” Jimmy Durante. “Helplessness Blues,” Fleet Foxes. “Sleigh Ride,” Ella Fitzgerald version.

  9. Write down the things that you know trigger your depression, and which strategies to help each of them
    Less screen time!

  10. Name something you are looking forward to this week, this month, and this year
    Classical concert tonight, joke-writing this month, employment opportunities this year

🖖

What do you do when your words won’t work anymore?

In about an hour I am going to my dear friend, Emily’s home to curl her hair for a wedding. I’m also seeing her & some friends tomorrow for Smyrna Pride. Two feelings: 1. Good sign if I see one friend twice in one weekend, and 2. Looking forward to a calmer pride.

One of my favorite sillies is when my friend, Christina, and I dressed to the nines for pride a few years ago, then ended up staying in her condo watching SEX AND THE CITY.

I type in all-caps because someone who I was gobsmacked over wrote her titles in all-caps. “We become what we love.”

Went on a spontaneous road-trip to Athens, GA and back yesterday. 8 out of 10 stars. My outfit was not ideal - I’m obsessed with this yellow sweater vest I got from ThredUp, but it’s too hawut righyut nowuh. Also, gym shorts - who the hell have I become? My most exciting find: Maira Kalman’s THE PRINCIPLES OF UNCERTAINTY for $13.

My friend, Pat, is traveling with THE BOOK OF MORMON tour right now, and has been parking at my crib each day while he works at the Fox - there’s something wonderfully cozy about this. Pat is Katherine’s longtime boyfy. I went to the show the other night, and Pat and I walked back together. I asked him again about his relationship to his work after all of his schooling to get here - I could only ever dream about being on tour like that; it’s so far out of my realm of possibility, honestly, but fun to consider. (Would I tech? Would I assist? Would I act, sell, manage?) Anyway, his relationship to his work is wonderfully practical. Artistic work: a practical business.

My friend, Cole, joked a short while back about my onstage persona: he suggested that if I brought that self to the office I’d be closer to an ideal employee. To that I say: beignet, donut (been there, done that,) Cole-son. But it did make me think… thick professional walls when I did stand-up onstage last year. Lots of insecurity when I hosted “Bandter” on ATL Live. But in offices, I like to stir laughter and joy. I’m good at just working for that dolla-dolla-bill, y’all. (Sorry)


Raised my petsitting prices today after much encouragement, and I feel a bit nauseous. It has me reflecting on my relationship to money entirely. Didn’t see much of it as a younger person. Now, enjoy the frequency of freedom it can allow if handled properly. Joke about being rich, and for my mom’s convenience, so - making a lot of money for sharing my art is le goal. Petsitting is supplemental. I think that is why I felt funny - I ended up going back and meeting in the middle on those prices; a small increase to match competition and cover Rover’s new fee increase. If you have any advice on freelance and contract work/pricing/handling for creative work, I would like to chat. Am doing some other work and am sort of walking in the dark as my own agent/manager.

Missing some folks today. Why the hell did I delete Facebook? (Instagram is hanging on by a thread.) I’m missing a multitude of folks! Just thinking about a lot of you lately is all. We need people.

Need to hop in shower and take care of business. Peace. Love you.

shapes

Welcome to this Wednesday, May 28. How are you?

I’m a little emotional today - not in a bad way, but I am certainly listening to myself amidst many moving pieces. Have been watching this show, The Sex Lives of College Girls. It’s great. It’s television, so I know it’s crafted, but I’m doing the unhealthy thing of pondering back on my own time in college: I was closeted, career-lost, focused on baseline success and achievement regardless of this, and (unknowingly) relatively money-poor. While in therapy during college, I did uncover and own that I wanted to be a comedy writer, then a series of cool opportunities blossomed, but I felt called back to this hidden identity of being gay, and how do you balance two realities? Both real, but one secret. In college, I was on a few dating apps as a queer woman, but never met up with anyone in person. My first kiss was with a girl, during my first year of college, during a game. No romance. Any steamy hot make-out sessions occurred drunken on the dance floor with blurred and forgotten men who did the approaching.

When I moved to NYC, I was out as a gay woman. I had one meet-up from an app, that did not include nakedness, and had one older woman profess her admiration for me after a few nights of digital chatting. Had a crush on a woman I worked with, but was generally too intimidated to speak to her - I liked that she was bold, and out.

When I moved to ATL, after my NYC excursion, I had sex — gay sex (sorry,) with other women. I was, what, 24 years old? “Popped my cherry” at the ripe old age of 24, maybe 25. If you are wondering, you are correct: I am a gold-star lesbian. I think the aforementioned show on HBOMax alludes to this being more of a situation of luck - I don’t disagree.

So I start having some sex. It’s a fun activity, and it’s nice to explore with other women in safe spaces. I did also cry after a few escapades because they didn’t feel right. So, that is helpful information too. BUT THEN, you have to rinse out all of the trauma co-created in shame from your upbringing, that meant no harm, but was very specifically harmful. Is it okay for me to enjoy this? Is it okay for me to align with my truth? History has shown that this can be dangerous, and I want to be respectful to those who haven’t had the capacity to consider such lifestyles. Then, COVID - I got a nice, clean break from all things sex for a few years - scrubbed clean!

The thing I’m impressed with from this show is the amount of non-shaming that goes on, not only concerning sex, but just in being human and having feelings. People communicate with one another - they share and listen with the intent of finding common ground. Again, just a show, but inspiring.

ALSO, serious question: how does a gay woman exist without encroaching towards predatory vibes? So much of my work has been to maintain sexual distance and respect as to not stir feelings of discomfort that I got, even as a kid, from unwanted attenders. I don’t know how to gay! In my older years, I lean demisexual, asexual, graysexual… folks of any specific gender don’t stir the sacral, we’ll say. It tends to come from a deeper, more meaningful place - that takes time. Sex, consequentially, becomes unimportant. Connection is different.

I know it’s sort of an odd thing to air one’s personal life in this way - I keep it vague for a reason, but who is talking about those of us who fall within a certain category but went about it all differently? Also I don’t come from money, so I’m figuring this out mostly from the ground up.

I am lucky to be amongst some blossoming efforts right now. It humbles me. It slows me down. It makes me want to cry from gratitude. It also makes me want to exercise and keep going. Proud of this work.

Advice for fellow gay women: Don’t let the “straight,” married, closeted, or cowardly women play with your head or heart too much. You deserve better. Try to extend grace and set clear boundaries upfront - you know shit can be hard, but save yourself. And find/trust your straight allies - many exist. Discernment is crucial.

I love you.

🤲🌞🗓

In the next (little over a) month, I’ll be 33—years old*—not bologna sandwiches. (inside joke) (I’ll let you in on it: overheard an older gentleman ask a little boy at Disney World how old he was, back when I was working there in 2012. The little boy says “four,” and the OG says “four what? Four bologna sandwiches?”)

Tangential to turning this age, and not to the inside joke, I think of the conversation betwixt the hot, older lesbian businesswoman & Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s character in season two of FLEABAG:

HOLBW
And what had Jesus done by 33?

FB
...Died?

HOLBW
Exactly, so get out there and flirt.

Have begun some of my own personal self-improvement adjustments. Have a small list sitting on my desk that I remind myself of a few times a day; *move in that direction* says the inner voice.

Also, earlier this morning I wrote a note that said, “In a partner, I am looking for a near human google.” This is NOT the direction I would like to move in. (A reminder of why Comedy is helpful.)

Focus: GOOD HEALTH, folks. Good health. Better finances. Confidence: I am woman, hear me roar.

empathy

If I am not an Arts Leader, I will write comedy with sunglasses on. Can I write comedy with my sunglasses on while Being an arts leader? Why sunglasses? I don’t need people analyzing my soul while I’m telling jokes.

WHOA.

I’m sorry. I feel it a duty to keep some solidly good humor about the place. We can get so much more done working together. It helps me perform better when my nervous system is calm, because it’s almost like I can feel what you feel when we slow down enough to truly connect. I can receive and transmute, getting to the core of what it is you are communicating: identifying your need. It’s this strange thing called Empathy, and it can be both a challenge to maintain and painful experience without the proper training. You may ask: “Why Perform?” It’s not what it sounds like. Perform as in operate, not as in entertain.

Among the really lovely times from my Childhood is all of the Education I was exposed to. My mom was learning to be a first grade teacher while my brother and I were coming up. She practiced a lot of her lesson plans on us. (*idea for joke, brb.*) Additionally, my dad signed us up for a lot: All of the Sports, Theatre Camps, Science and History Shit for Daniel. We also got involved in our churches, and Daniel (+Dad as Scout Leader or whatever the dads were called) did Boy Scouts. All of those experiences expose you to more and more people while also expanding your awareness of the world through Knowledge, and the Practice breeds excellence, or at least improvement by the attempt. We were excited to learn - I still Love Learning. The intersection of these classes created an interesting conversation within my own mental dialogues et al: can all of these things be true? What are the common threads? There was a Sportsmanship in Theatre. There was certainly a Theatre about Sports - I’m thinking Swimming, Soccer, Base-and-Softball, Tennis - the athleticism of working hard, and efficiently, with each other for a common goal………….

That, of course, becomes your character - these Values that resonate with People - I always wanted to be Liked. Luckily with age, I see the Value of ~*Liking Yourself first and foremost*~.

Aging is tough. People grow mean because it can hurt to be human if you were to lift an ounce of care. For instance, this previous sentence is a little mean because I am flashing a cheek - lightly showing my arse. I am trying so hard to simply follow my heart with some respect for the world around me. It feels like there are excruciating expectations, both spoken and unspoken alike, that we hold others to; but that’s not fair because we all value different things… so I guess I gotta stop judging people for being different than me - hurting my own feelings. Where I Value Empathy, Others Value Money. Don’t get me wrong - I value Money, but as a resource… I suppose that doesn’t support my argument.

One day I’ll solve all the world’s problems, didn’t you know? (THIS IS A JOKE - don’t play God.)

Much Love.

milk > mud

Happy almost 2pm on this gorgeous Saturday, March 1. Atlanta is doing us right with the weather. Woke up just after 6am, got a quick visit from the neighborhood cat who I’ve unofficially renamed Artemis, made a latte, did a little work, did a little grocery, took a walk…

Amidst this, met up with the pet-owners I’m sitting for this weekend, and the gal mentioned something that has me noodlin’: your job is for your talents, and your hobbies are for your interests.

Philosophically, I thought I wanted all of that to be combined, but I always think back to “be careful what you wish for.” Why happiness here is a noble pursuit.

For her, this was to be celebrated - she loves her job. She mentioned that artists generally already have money/come from it. Her talents lay in following rules.

I’ve always known that my greatest gift is energetic. Alchemized through the fire - I know it’s wild to write. My soul-work is beautiful but generally isn’t presented as a physical object on a silver platter, unless specifically requested or co-created, or with an abundance of time and space and no attachment to outcome. Isn’t that funny? I have not shaved my facial hair in nearly a week now, but I’ve made sure that ENERGY STAYS GOOD. Because it’s the quality of our lives. (And it’s ecological if maintained with larger considerations.) While experiences come to me in forgiving ways - meaning, I have loved my time and opportunities, that I imagine are connected energetically - it’s a little harder to show off one’s work on a scale. Luckily I can point to data, praise, and success stories reflected from 9-5’s and extracurriculars, but I’ve worked a lot and I work hard (which has evolved into Efficient with 15+ years of practice - I’m good at it,) but the mission was somewhat aimless before a few years ago - around the time when I began forging this Philosofartist digital trail. (Thanks, D.) I needed a place to share all that I’ve done, and am doing, in an authentic way. Some folks know they want to be a Playwright, or a Vet, or a Doctor. I’ve already been Working with no clear label in mind - don’t want to abandon that when I finally do make a decision, or as opportunities continue. This is very fun for me. In the back of my mind I thought I’d come back to Acting - it is not acting, I’ve learned. I liked Playing. I liked the intensity that was allowed in Acting. I like Words. I do think I used to desire Fame, as I wonder if many of us do, but understand that anonymity is to be cherished and I appreciate mine - you’d wanna make sure you were famous for something really good. I’m not sure fame of any kind is cool - not saying it isn’t either. Just thinking. Tina Fey is fame bey.

During COVID, a few years ago, I had a dream that led to a sketch, that led to the beginnings of a painting (below,) that led to a digital logo, that led to an updated and more detailed digital logo, that ultimately led me back to this painting:

 
 

The smaller painting in the front was an emotion-driven piece. I feel the girl being sent down in flames to ash, ultimately blossoming among tulips. There’s a lil story written with it. The drama.

Always more to write. Am feeling antsy. Happy March 1!

tweet

A “flickering life force.” What I have to remind myself that we have access to listen to. Mine has been blocked. I’m taking the steps to unblock, but I am moving slowly due to fear. I’m also enjoying this time of moving slowly. Perhaps my calling could be simply to Live, but we’re not necessarily set up in a way that this is achievable. Humans aren’t just here for survival, we’ve made it so. You can’t not play the game. So the question: how do you want to make your money? Oy. What if I only needed less?

Occasionally, something cool happens where I get booked for two petsitting gigs that bump up against each other in timing and location. I love it. Finish with this week-long gig, then wrap up 3 minutes over for the weekend. The, I suppose, Administrative Nerd in me does a little dance. Speaking of Administrative Nerd, I have some personal business to attend to this weekend. Please, self, hold the self accountable!

I think my issue right now is that my words are more dramatic than my actions. Is it an act of defiance against a culture moving too quickly? I stand by that it is moving too quickly. We aren’t listening to nature, and we’re building more than we can get rid of, and I just don’t like it. My Simply Living is an act of defiance. Some overachievers bubble to mind, and I embrace their disregard.

Do I delete Instagram? It’s kind of nice to have.

Our task is to figure out what we want, yes? What if this were it? I am happy with THIS. I am not happy with That.

It’s funny - I took a dog on a walk this morning, in the neighborhood that I share a name with, and the houses are stunning. The streets are wide and flowy, and there are very few traffic signs and little street paint - everything is pressure-washed. Meanwhile, I am greeted with 1-3 unhoused folk and the stench of newly-aged urine when I arrive to my office job downtown. Petsitting, I keep a calm nervous system, receive succinct yet kind messages, sometimes am treated with a stocked kitchen. Working downtown… we were not in the office the last two days because of asbestos/a construction project, (truly not complaining.) When I AM in the office, there is nowhere to turn inward. The world I’ve crafted so carefully is dismantled each visit; perhaps similarly with each home I’m in with petsitting. In some ways, it’s nice to participate in a larger moving force. In some ways, my ego matters not because there’s work to do. Perhaps the words grow to drama because the feeling wasn’t attended to originally. Our feelings are communicating. If folks in power aren’t listening to theirs, or exist in a land beyond them, I’m afraid our only safe space is art. (Apologies for projection of anxieties here.)

I find myself still resenting a few certain folks, both of whom I love and do not. Am working on refocusing my energy towards the steps in front of me, instead of how I project or expect them to behave.

A great gift from my sis-in-law

committed to the craft

Pet peeve, and valuable lesson.

Cleaners are coming to the house I’m sitting at, relatively early, so I got out of there even earlier, after tidying most of my own mess out of respect. I booked it to my favorite coffee shop and place to work. 15 minutes after opening - it was not open. Do I wait, or do I scoot to the next best option?

I am not remote today due to a scheduling shift in the office. But I have plenty to do IN the office by the end of the week, so today must be used fully in 9-5 land. But I’m having a little fun keeping up with this. So, early!

Chrome Yellow it is. Get my latte in a mug to stay. Sun is still working on coming up. One hour to type away. Not that this rests solely on my shoulders, but I don’t want to be who [name of first coffee shop attempted, redacted] was to me this morning, to our faculty. So I’ll arrive by 8:30am, dangit. ALSO - I have to leave 9-5 (8:30am-5:15pm) at 4:30pm today because of a petsitting meet-and-greet across town, and then an early business dinner. Rewarded with two remote days for the remainder of the week. We are pushing through.

 
 

All my business!

Here’s more: I spoke with a colleague earlier this week - a real one - about relationships. We talked about how and where to meet people. I almost want to laugh as I type this now. A goal that used to define me, “finding my person,” has been shelved. This is one of the reasons I’m so grateful to have gone through some emotional pain for the last many years. Because I’ve been forced to take my power out of the hands of pretend people. I’m barely offering space for loved ones who have stuck it out with me. This season, for me, is for me. Well - for my work, which is for me too.

I do bitch, but, I might be happy. Really do feel like I’m learning. My community is flavorful and robust. There’s more to be done, but that I am experiencing goodness by happenstance fills me. Like intentions are coming back in cool ways.

Also experiencing dark shit. Witnessed a suicide two weeks ago. Kicked me straight. Not the first time I’ve seen something tangential to this, or have had conversations surrounding suicide. I don’t want to overshare other folks’ business, and it is potentially sick to share this, but I’m lucky that this particular witnessing was of a stranger. It’s very sad; devastating. Grounds a balance of being, for sure.

Do I need to write about our political climate in the U.S.? I’m afraid to. In fact, I’m approaching this exercise with a bit of “balls to the walls” because who’s to say what our digital (and otherwise) worlds will evolve into over the next few… weeks, even. This shit is moving fast. Am I reacting to the news? Is this all about ratings and fear-mongering? I fear, parallels.

OKAY. Question. What is totally dumb to write about on the internet? Like, is this dumb? I’m still waking up. It’s essentially Morning Pages. These are not poetic pieces of soul - it’s processing - blogging. Maybe that is poetic pieces of the soul. Ugh.

Speaking too soon vs. not speaking at all? Just writing.

Have good Wednesdays.

mission: exercise

Hello dahlings,

How are we today? *Scary Sunday*?

I suppose it’s time to get a move-on. Did this activity:

  • What gets me excited?

    • Making people giggle, helping people (particularly, friends) to achieve their dreams, collaborating on an artistic project with clear guidelines and room to expand expectations. Excellent teamwork. Badass women. Honest lesbianism! Good surprises. Exercise, after I’ve done it. Coffee. Good marketing and a great product.

  • What makes me feel like I’m making a difference?

    • When someone lets me know, generally in words, how I’ve positively contributed to their lives.

    • More quietly, numbers. Data. Crunch!

    • Being part of a team.

    What am I naturally good at?

    • Singing, self-proclaimed. Writing. Connecting with people; Listening.

  • What issues do I care about?

    • Homelessness; Poverty. Inequality; financial, racial, gender. Mental health. Abuse. Environmentalism and Ecology.

  • What do people ask me for help with?

    • Life. Strategy, generally of the communicative nature. Art Projects, including haircuts!

Connecting with people is the most consistent theme. Historically, it is my favorite thing but I’ve simultaneously grown afraid of it. (Survivor of abuse! ✊)

I’m learning to slow down and trust again; and build.

I love life.

(Not a political statement, unfortunately.)

2024 has been a year for the records. They all are; this is what we call “History.” Is it time to reflect?

Start of the year is sort of a blur. Was still homebased at Mom’s in Harris County, and had just gone full-time from part-time/temp at Georgia State University’s School of Music. (Do I pay them homage before I move forward?) Not sure I can put into words what this recent and unexpected flourishing of community has meant to me. And also musicians can be harsh AF; and they have a right to be with that amount of focus and discipline. I loved many of those folks, and envy their devotion and outlet.

As I was getting ready to move back to Atlanta full-time, I enrolled in a stand-up comedy class. Long story short: forgot my words twice during my grad show, but through this class process was the exact sort of work I love to do, the writing - have plenty more work to do. Lace Larrabee’s Laugh Lab, y’all. It was so empowering! A 6-week intensive - that’s what it is. And guess what? I loved the process so much that I took the class AGAIN this fall. And guess what? I learned EVEN MORE. About myself, about people, about our need for good humor…

My first grad show for this class was on the day that I literally moved back to Atlanta. Had some time to settle, and then got the opportunity to take the class again, where the intense growth only accumulated. Second round was an all-female class, too! I digress. Even if you have no intentions of grinding to become a fancy stand-up comedian, the sharing and giggling of narratives that were once understood as discomfort, or pain, is *chef’s kiss*. I don’t want to challenge it, but I feel as if my grossest self has been exposed, on that stage - I am still learning to run off the shame of being seen, and telling people that a stranger at a job called me “mean and nasty” amidst my overweightness. The comedy of it all did feel a little slimy compared to writing here, for instance. My first set was thoughtful. My second set was a bit lazier, as a challenge to myself to try different writing/sharing approaches. In the second set, I spoke too soon about some stressful, relatively fluffy shit. And I take feedback seriously: DON’T BE LAZY. With anything - ever. It’s a slippery slope, and you can FEEL it.

Okay, what else?

Investing in friendships I’d like to maintain. This is a tricky balance. What is giving TOO much? What is giving too little? Do these folks really understand what it is I’m attempting to nurture in my reaching out? A historic best friend recently shared that we both have to need and have something needed from us in fostering connections. I agree - I’m proud of him.

Not sure I travelled too much this year - there were other sports to attend to!

Family has been cool. I understand how people tuck away into their own for periods at a time. Should clarify: my *Family.* This includes extended (Barkley’s, etc.,) “Fambigly” (long-time family-friends who I’ll celebrate ‘til the cows come home,) and, honestly, work families - I have many, including the families I sit for. Right now, my core FAMILY, the collective I navigate my plans and budget around, is me. That’s right, you heard it here first: she’s single.

Have dated some over the course of this year, but am coming back from a 5-year-stint of being closed off to all of this. Am happy to be back out here - it’s fun. Life is short. Why not? (Hint: I rarely crush but when I do it goes deep.)

Ran into a previous, and extremely formative, boss recently. I am happy to report that it was healing. Some might say “par for the course,” in regards to its significance. I suggest… magic? I was in my car outside of a friend’s event that I had just missed the start of, and saw her. At first, I thought, “eek;” because I was never sure if she liked me. Then I thought, “once in a lifetime chance, to say hello,” so I did. It was Lisa, my boss from Horizon Theatre! And her daughter, who I had met while working there too. The woman and other half who built this institution. Not ready to deeply reflect on just how much that opportunity changed me, but it did full-circle some feelings, speaking with her, for which I’m grateful. And I liked connecting. It reminded me of some good times and interesting conversations.

I’ve put on weight! Even more weight! On one hand, delicious. On the other, my body is like, “you bitch.” Will need to sort that out.

In conclusion, it’s been a good year. I love my 30’s. I love the folks I’ve gotten to interact with this year - pretty much, every single one of them - that I can recall, at least.

Time to log-on to work station for the day. (Remote Wednesday’s!)

Much love to this crew.

Ansley

I want:

  • resources and availability to travel

  • for the people who enter my life to have good intentions

  • clear and honest communication

  • a wholly supportive environment - doesn’t mean blindly supporting the bullsh, but understanding yin and yang with a collaborative spirit

  • patience

  • companionship

  • time well-spent

Words get taken out of context.

Without writing, I am without. I am grateful that this tool and instrument are accessible, even with low energy, as I write now.

Words and connection and people and harmony… this is my calling. Working together is important to me.

Honest hope evolving into a determined belief. SOMEONE HAS TO DO IT.

assortment of gay

I listened to some old podcast interviews earlier this week - I’m better at asking questions than fluffing comfort, my own or otherwise. (To be clear, these interviews were co-hosted by me. I’m a little embarrassed but grateful for my youth.) (My youth is leaving everyday, and boy, does society let you feel it. Or do we feel it, and society responds? Or is it all a projection…?) (Still needing that focused hobby.)

  1. Limited minutes to write, as I’m on a time-crunch — dog-walk nearby at noon. Great errands this morning - good to get going. Give you one guess as to where I’m at - coffee shop, correct! Not the usual I write from, but another goody. When I first moved to ATL in 2016 I was thirsty to explore what made this city special, and came here. It’s changed a little bit, as it used to be open late for open mics and such, but I understand nixing that if there’s no need. Upon that first visit years ago, I noticed a group of older, joyful folks meeting early on a Friday morning. It inspired something then - I’ve continued to muse. Then I learned about the Algonquin Roundtable… I’m here today, and they’re here too. I can’t be sure if it’s the same group of folks, but one man does look familiar.

  2. A song is currently playing that makes me nostalgic - “Like Real People Do” by Hozier. It was the song that played during the first kiss/climactic plot point in a production of STOP KISS I was in, in college - I wasn’t one of the lesbians, sadly! I was an older lady. It was still pretty fun, and lower stakes if you have less lines/responsibility. I think a lot of the women involved in that production ended up being an assortment of gay. Welcome to the future!

  3. There’s a ladybug exploring my laptop as I write this.

 
 

I came here to share some recent observations and hypotheses, but if I anticipated anxiety trying to tell two friends about it, I don’t think it’s time to share with the internet. This is becoming a mere check-in. I’m okay with this.

  • Ladybug has switched to hand, and I’ve switched to bullet points. Put ladybug on window frame.

  • (What the hell is this? Meisner-typing?!)

  • Had an enjoyable evening last night - I don’t know what is safe to share on the internet and what isn’t. Perhaps I share feelings and ideas because those are fluid. Information sticks. Even this is just an idea, folks. Caaaaaalm.

  • Looking forward to holiday festivities over the next few days. Awareness of what’s going on in other places is pertinent for mere empathy’s sake. My heart is aware.

Alright, peace. Love to my loved ones, and Love to those who don’t love me. Doing my best.

Ansley

PS- a friend at a job said something recently of understanding the implications of sharing information, and how great of a responsibility that is. With time, and capitalism, that baking doesn’t really happen. I mean, just like with junk food, we (can) choose to eat what is convenient and available to us. We spend money on stuff that brings immediate pleasure. As I’m getting older, I do question this relationship, when it comes to food, sex, career, partnerships, even love, even art. I don’t have answers, but I do need to know how my subjective decisions impact other areas. Not necessarily labeling a process as good or bad, but understanding that a quick solution may not be the best solution, even if an idea of relief does visit. Or, is the release and immediacy of action based on feelings and impulses fair? Is it okay to explore bits of each at different times? (I do understand that I need to settle my feet in and get more specific, not just in-writing, but in life. This is a fine example of that, because how do you know what I’m talking about?)

For example: Does labeling 31 years of active consideration and curiosity and experience and circumstances as “Philosofartist” undermine real work? (Did Marketing do that?)

Okay, time for walk. Peace again.

dream job

We are stupid…

We can be stupid.*

I order an iced coffee. I don’t see “iced coffee” on the menu, but I hear other people ordering it, and that’s what I want. If I heard other people ordering “cold brew,” which was on the menu, I would’ve said cold brew.

I see some drink that looks like an iced coffee, and I ask a familiar barista, “is this my iced coffee?” They say “yes, that’s yours.” I put a little half-and-half in it, turn around, and another barista tries to hand me a beverage. “16-ounce cold brew - you got a 16-ounce cold brew?” “I did not,” I say. I did get a 16-ounce iced coffee, and somebody’s 16-ounce iced something is in my hand. Do I explain all of this to him? I walk away. I take a sip of the iced coffee - uh oh, there’s something sweet in it. This wasn’t my iced coffee.

So now I sit here, in a corner facing a window onlooking a sidewalk and street, and I type.

The spark for my wanting to come here to write today… first, I knew I was coming to Inman Perk with my computer for a few hours. My hope was that I would write something to share with my friend, Christina, at our next meeting. The only thing I’ve written her is a text that I’ve since deleted, a handful of ideas in a Note, and have organized old works-in-progress to try and see if I can rubik’s-cube something together. While writing a pilot of some sort could be fun, I can’t imagine doing this alone, and don’t imagine myself pitching these things. But who knows? My friend, Lauren, produced a piece not too long ago, and has given me the liberty to submit it for opportunities I see fit. After you write and produce the thing, then you send it out as a part of your portfolio. The hard work of producing the piece only has to be done once for each idea, then it’s business as usual, yes? I’m well-acquainted with submitting to opportunities. If I submit projects I am excited about, maybe that’ll provide a special sort of fuel I do feel I’ve been lacking recently.

Alert: “what you appreciate appreciates.” A recent reintroduction to an inner glittering feeling. There have been a rare few chunks of time in my life that feel like December 21 - perhaps, one of the greatest days of the year. Before the weight of expectations set in, as anticipation bubbles at the height of relaxation - some may call it being cozy. Somehow, I am both calm and vibrant. As anxiety stirs, one’s experience begins to feel disconnected. Sometimes I feel I disassociate, hearing worse, eating worse, being less, and it happens through a habit of lazy thinking. So when I am present and open, not quite AT ONE WITH NATURE, but at least witnessing the gifts around us, including with each other, I feel hopeful. Note: being AT ONE WITH NATURE is nirvana, but not as easy to navigate socially.

What brings me here today, to write and share- I stopped at a red light on the way here. A man walks by cars in tattered clothes and a cup in hand. I have, independent from this, begun unrolling breath-mints for myself. He says something through the window, so I roll it down and offer a breath-mint. He laughs, thanks me, takes one, and blesses my day. His comrade sees his friend getting something from me and runs over. I say, “it’s just a breath-mint - want one?” He laughs too, takes it, thanks me, points at his friend and says “his breath really needs it!”

I get so tickled. I don’t seek these experiences out, but fun moments like this are ready for the taking if you pay attention. Are they spooky? Life is here. Gifts are being gifted - that was a gift, even if just for me. I imagine it was for the both of us - we each got a breath mint and a laugh. Did not solve the world’s problems, or even theirs, but, a moment of connection, I have to believe, was enriching, even the slightest bit. And I feel funny for sharing it because it wasn’t more.

I’ve been occasionally practicing this way of existing recently where I push all of my awareness to the front of myself. It’s different, I know. Past attempts went well, so we’re bringing back what works, when I remember. Anticipating the world around me - leading myself to be right here, in this very spot. When disconnecting to search for that thing you “should” be reaching for, (because how does one exist without pursuit?) you take yourself out of the experience you’re given. Everything has happened to lead you here - “not to you but for you.” Can it be just as divine and celebrated as that phone call from someone important offering you the job of your dreams? The job of my dreams? I don’t even know what that is! I think I’d draw and make books in ultimate freedom of play and expression. If attached to money, I don’t see a fair and honest way for those creations to exist purely. Structure keeps me responsible. Job of my dreams? I like supporting community. Using whatever discipline and the professional mind and self I’ve spent the last 10+ years working on for good use. My free time can be spent exploring the freedom of creation, expression, and play. If the job, the thing that pays my bills, is stressless enough, the overflowing from my own personal work can pour into it, and hopefully gardens and gardens of blooms and flowers and love spread out exponentially, without my having to control the narrative and output and maintenance. However, “desire leads to suffering.” “One day at a time.” “FROM LOVE, NOT FOR LOVE.”

I enjoy keeping this blog. While I continue to create, delete, and maintain social media profiles, something in me feels I should honor the work I’ve poured into this site, and into myself. A lot is private, a lot has changed, a lot has evolved, and I’m not fully sure what it’s made for. But to have the option - of something to point at as a place to share, makes me feel good.

ugh okay I'll write

Hello, beautiful people. I see through Analytics that I have occasional consistent readers/curious viewers. I don’t know who you are, but I love you, and your presence.

I’ve made another bold move - walking away from a gig going from part-time to full-time. (“WHAT THE HECK AM I THINKING?! WHAT ABOUT HEALTH INSURANCE?!”) I have health insurance, (I think,) and am experiencing a nicely abundant time in my life. It isn’t perfect, but it is a once-in-a-lifetime chance, if you ask me, and I feel proud to be taking it. “Slowly by slowly, one travels far.”

What else?

Got rejected from a Master’s Program, but I think this is okay. Starting a lot of projects, and not quite, yet, finishing them. Collaborating with friends more, and having a seat at the table. Having some experiences. I don’t know, it’s been a good summer. Summers have historically been rough because I’ve colored them that way - “you expect me to expose my large white, chunky, pasty jiggles with dark hair to the common man? And to sweat through it, my all-blacks, and my make-up? (which I had to wear at the time.)” Or, alternatively, hiding by staying indoors - I know - so much wasted time. This summer, I’ve got all my hairs. The jigglies are simply jiggling. I’m sweating and moving and am being seen in all her pasty glory, and am learning to move through it all regardless. It’s a gift! Well, for me. I can’t carry the burden of your disgust anymore, yanno - or my projection of your disapproval. Or my own! This is my body, and I’m using it to move through the world - both, thank you, and you’re welcome. 🖕

I saw BARBIE with a buddy yesterday - I need women to have one big conference call to discuss. All. women. Because although I label myself as “gay,” and I think about women dating their only known predator, man (concept from somewhere else - and I’ll start being better at crediting,) and I never want to disrespect and be an embodiment of that toxicity in woman-form, because I do know that I romanticize romantic relationships with other women occasionally, we still must remember that I, too, am a woman. So where do I go? (Hint: thanks to the leadership of an old connection, I am continuing to learn and love my own independence.) I have faced and felt that feeling of objectification, and even if it isn’t in a consciously sexualized way, you’re still being judged because you don’t or do look right by someone whose opinion, hypothetically, shouldn’t make a difference to you - I’ll hop off the unclear soapbox. AND I have obviously been judging and hurting my own feelings because I won’t look like (commercialized) “BEAUTY.” We are rewriting what beauty means to us, as individuals. CHEERS TO US. *actually hops off soapboax this time* (hint: was never on soapbox)

Not blonde, over 30, jiggly, single, and does not work a typical 9-5. Yet, here I am, believing that I am worth this space, and I’m grateful for the chance.

Note: this blog was written in empowerment - cannot promise, in real life, full consistent feelings of beauty and strength - yet.

(And what of this obsession with beauty?)

Life should be richer than what we post to the internet - what we soak from screens.

So that’s all for now.

Love. 🤢❤️