this is what sick looks like. and she is looking for sinus relief in the bottom of some tasty herbal tea. been battling some major bug this last week. trying all of my best home remedies — cannot recommend chili peppers enough! seriously, the next time you fall ill start kicking up your spices. those immune-boosting, flavor-enhancers are just what the sinuses need to flood open. found myself making a spicy stew, exclaiming that it was too HOT, and then adding even more chilis; when in doubt add more! while teas, spicy concoctions, and more bed rest than a bed bud helped; i have turned to western medicine to kick the infection that will not depart my abused nasal passages. cheers little white pills! here’s to you give these bloody germs a strongly worded eviction notice!



our lives held together by panes of misconceptions. projections to satisfy enough. pen us behind partial enclosures. shattered shells of existence. designed for reconstruction over and over. to move around one only creates another. an endless cycle of entrapment. hopeless distractions until one can see beyond. through the cracks. there. lies open platforms of freedom. and their vulnerability. all we have to do is look.


Out racing the charge of thy enemy. Sounds of endless conflict echo in my wake. Battle torn, I emerge. The protective armor molting from my frame. Puddling the path like breadcrumbs. My headdress shedding its adornments to the wind. Each feather earned in conflict, now marking the sky in strokes of calligraphy. I am left to wander. Exposed. A single marker remains. The symbol of wars before. Of the struggles within. And of hopes to rise again.


Day shares the stage with her sister Night. The two tugging on the setting sun. I find myself a rocky shore. Swept in sheer blindness of the external world. Unable to navigate clearly. But open to guidance. Replacing the sun’s glow. My own beacon in a fading sky. Heart radiating. Glowing. The only light needed, is the one from within.


Coming off a few days of illness, it feels great to have a solid dose of endorphins from my silver sidekicks. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of exhausted, burning muscle fibers. Or the growth of callouses from palming weights (yes, I would probably benefit from gloves). And the excitement of seeing the body fire into form. There’s a magic in the connection between metal and skin. A bond that just feels right. Whether in a home, gym, or waiting at the bus stop; one can never go wrong with pumping some iron!


Adaptation is designed for the betterment of the creature. Yet this creature feels my newly advanced sense of emotional control has the opposite affect. Or at least I didn’t realize just how highly tuned my feeling stomping skills had become. While locking down frantic irrational reactions during a highly stressful time of crisis is valuable in that moment; it is not a technique I wish to employ to every situation. But it seems to have become the default state. Like poor posture my emotional core has learned the habitual nature of tabling, or even glossing over entirely, emotional responses. As with most practices, I have perfected the art of not feeling. And though growth is inevitable in life, it doesn’t have to come at the cost of my being. I need to stem from the adaptation phase into a refined evolution — one where I can dispense my cool-calm-collected skill when needed, but not allow it to be automatic.


Days of intimacy are consuming. Fall deep into philosophical conversations of futuristic wonderlands, kind of consuming. Twisting down paths of tangential discussions that only lovers dare. The molasses mattress making escape impossible. Where the world is blotted out by a face. One that should realistically be exhausting after ten years, but still finds a way to exhibit the most disarming smile. An entangled embrace resulting in time travel’s recipe. Briefly escaping from an imposed reality. To our own space. These days, I have missed.


Nothing to do but wait. These last few days have been one stop and start after the next. A test in patience. Have I ever mentioned I am not a fan of tests? Especially ones where there’s no way to prepare. Or submit extra credit to stay in the higher scoring bracket. These tests exhaust my core and then take a little more. Centering myself the best way I can, by putting up a sheer veil and hiding from my responsibilities. Like any good adult does in these situations. At least my waiting game will be over soon enough. For now I’ll keep listening to the ticks of time slowly click away.


This is my house. And your house. And our house. Splashed brightly with the colors of our combined nature. Each new member adding layers of depth to the structure. A malleable form. From within these walls I hear a crash. A splintering sound that draws my investigation. Peering from a portal, I’m greeted with shadow. What appears to be a threat. Looming over all that we have built. We can let it cast doubt over our being. Shake our foundation. Or we can strengthen our walls against it. Stand as sentries. And protect a place we call home.


Instead of a classic Easter egg hunt, this hoppin holiday, I found a treasure while combing through my closet of forgotten purses. Tucked away, underneath countless color clashes of faux leather, was a rustic brown bag. One that I loved to the point of discoloration and an additional hole. Peeling back the faded flap, I found a handful of treats. Peppermints, hairbands, lint balls, sand? But there was this one thing. Nestled next to fortune cookie statements of “you’ll travel far” and “your artistic soul knows no bounds”, was a little black square. Could it be? Oh yes, yes it was! A memory card full of pictures from my hiatus. Little gems waiting for discovery. And I can’t wait to share in the future. Exciting to find images that I thought were lost down some rabbit hole. What a great Easter egg surprise!


For those that missed my Instagram picture yesterday (and for the ones that didn’t quite understand it); here is an article explaining just what is that blimp in the upper left corner. That sucker is parked right over where I had Easter dinner. I knew about the launch in Dec. But seeing it hovering over the backyard, motionless, was eerie and infuriating. No one else seemed to be bothered. The residents had grown accustomed to it, saying it didn’t bother them. Looking from face to face, I felt like an alien in a room full of people from planet surveillance. A place where people willingly give in to their watchers. And enjoy indoctrinating television programs that make the art of surveillance palatable. Swallowing the surveillance state, we finished dinner and continued to ignore the white smear in the sky.