The December Issue and my 150th post Big Beautiful and Full of WONDER

Within my magical pink castle studio I have been lounging all weekend! My fair weather friend policy kicks in at less than 10 degrees and since it has been coasting around 1degree I have sought out the luxury of "me time". Thankfully I have salmon bites with spicy tomato soup, amazing guac and black mole chicken sandwiches, ripe pears and raspberries and some emergency lobster tail should I be inclined and more tea than any English house could offer. I have been having an indoor picnic! You should try it! I have Hulu and Netflix and a very interesting book on Druid sex magic and Mayan Myths, so Don't cry for me Argentina, and in fact that is the point, while my finances are grim my spirit is sailing. I have 2 weeks left of school I am in love with programming and media and have been finding inspirations amidst the ruins of my romantic notions I have great friends and loving old lovers... so clearly there is something to celebrate. This blog is now 150 posts in so much in the style of a big grand inspirational issue I am taking my cue's from the Empress herself Diana Vreeland which in case you have not been steeped in her magic the Doc is on Netflix instant and is the ultimate dazzling ride through the 20th century. I have been deeply inspired by this article which simply states go get what you want because there is nothing else to do but sit on your rump. SO let's check in with what has come of 2013? Well I think there has been a lot of progress and the burden of quiet desperation seems to fragile to hold out come 2014 and beyond. Greed itself has gotten greedy and in an effort to scrooge every last cent, or shred of common good it has shut down a government and tantrumed itself into a corner that is by omission of even the Pope unChristian/Catholic. Also who does not love the new guy Team Francis! And about the role of media and entertainia in our lives, yes it feels really Hunger Games/Elysium in this bitch but that is a story that is even being told and given to the masses which is an important piece to the beginning of creating work that has beauty and meaning and substance. Mrs Vreeland thought outside the box she gave women roles that were fun and empowering and celebrated all forms of beauty and talent and personality and passion, and as I have often said that is exactly where we need to go thinking of our own adventures and dreaming of solutions to solve our problems and to enjoy the lives we are given because we make them either valuable or expendable. Paul Walker was a handsome b actor he was also a single dad and was a true philanthropist, I had no idea the work that he did for relief to victims of the tsunami and beyond, and Nelson Mandela to whom touched and inspired millions by embodying sacrifice and the relentless pursuit of equality My humble salute to the extraordinary souls that give when they could take, that speak in silence and that hold the light for the long road ahead. So why don't you: troll kickstarter and donate in your friends names? Makeup crazy fortunes and give them to friends at random this holiday party season. That great idea you had for a play... write it! have picnics on your floor. Procrastination is the ultimate demise of greatness and you have no more time savor the wine, watch SOMM, demand GM to make this car:

Or if you are in NYC have some tea and Biscuits to herald the Triumphant return of Downton Abbey And though the goldiebox debacle went viral for using a beastie boys track

This is 4th grade girls teaching kindergarten buddies to code. #HourofCode Add caption

 Also Trans Fat is on the way out !

Add there might be hope for our Bees after all 

Why Don't you make this kind of family tradition

Why Don't you make this kind of family tradition

Dream! It is a magical world and a sexy NutCracker of boys and girls is good for everybody

Because this could be nap time

The point is this is now happening:

SO this should be a result

Makin it a blockbuster night, Zen and the art of planned obsolecence and other tales of surving Mercury Retrograde

Another massive corporate disrupt has shuttered down to a footnote in history. The Big yellow and blue box store that offered so many little boxes of happiness, cheaper than the movies and the perfect date to end in your favor. What most strikes me was the marketing, how do you make it a blockbuster night, google it, and have a coke. The relentless significance of your time being defined by corporate America. My weekends have never been warrior so movie night has kinda been my repose from the city stomping I do, but the result is the same (Thank Heavens, it's time to unwind.) Entertainia has evolved though, and I had to disable my netflix account for awhile at least because I just kept marathoning my way through series, and my 2 hour night becomes a couple of weekends where I am completely imersed, and I became worried that my creative output was stuttering from all the options and all the self-inflicted catching up I had to do? Make it a netflix weekend I guess became culturally norm. I started having awful nightmares after I locked in to a junket of 3 seasons of Dexter's murderous rage vigilante. But as this streaming occurs I am reminded how mighty Blockbuster and Tower Records and Sears has been, but our taste changes and like it or not the planned novelty and eventually obsolescence of radios, and television, and taxis, all lead forever onward to more footnotes to history. Whatever I can claim to be a part of by way of entertainment and technology is but a ghost on a sandy beach. Like the Romans to the British, to Americans and back to the Chinese.... Can you take comfort in this wheel of death to anything that has a moment in the sun? I'm trying not freak out even when I lost my job for no real reason on the 1st day of Mercury Retrograde. I calmly skipped into all my social plans and even with no real solution I wobbled my way forward because there is a zen in my bones that has settled from a lifetime of calamity. Also I found the most stupendously well suited companion, in a fervor of bubbles sugar sex and magic that resulted in his rigorously avoiding me. Le Sigh- unfolding that shadow of do we not all want to be happy? Cuddle up on a wintry night to dinner and a movie? The simplified task of making your life beautiful in your work, your relationships, and in your food and your sex? Do we not all need comfort and support? Did I not fit that bill? Communicating gratitude in a sparkling moment flickering away. These are the Hunger Games I guess. Each comfort we take in each other and in our stories is a look away from solving any of the problems we face. One day WalMart will also be a footnote... Required Viewing : I made this for my mobile apps as I am awkwardly straddling the design of less with more for better. I get so sick of stuff though. My love / hate relationship with the everything of creation, the movies, the books, the clothes, the music, the toys, and yet my inner monk sits patiently by the river waiting for me to let go.

This is my new soothing zen force: not surprisingly I want one. Yeash. Trapped like a trap in a trap. On the another note Lily Allen has offered up an extraordinary quandary of making an anthem of a song with the most uninspired video that reinforces the very essence of what she is doggedly trying to expose? (My Kingdom for some authenticity) for your consideration: I myself might have highlighted who really does twerking at zumba class, or the girl working at Starbucks for tips when a stripper comes in and pays for her 5$ coffee in 1s. Or maybe something like this: or this: My life is a blur of parties and beautiful people and ideas and making the best, but I still curl up in my little shoebox and long for the something I can never keep.

Dizzy Monsters : the inevitable evolution

This post has been haunting me. Like a spider in the corner, the tension in the air but I am adrift to harness my fears and instead claim a rational template to focus a forseable future. I pause in cocoon long enough to realize that this steel trap is not my resting post and that it is time to shatter my silence. Thank You to the mysterious Law of time thirteen moon calendar that appeared on my desk, or me finally having a night off. You see I have been cradled by the universe to shift my life into 3 projects -

programming, rehab, jazz. I have been wary of you internet as you are filled with the mind numbing facts that there is no logic in this place, and there has not been for possibly ever, I wonder why I am surprised that I expect a system to function how do I know of such things? I've been lighting candles with great success, for me personally but to what path do we go?

This government shutdown is such a farce a greed pride fueled epidemic of hysteria I am at a loss to the point of surrender and by that I mean to let them hang themselves my self preservation is no longer triggered - I call their bluff. I am at peace knowing that there is no return for them, that there greed will destroy them and many others and that implosion will be the basis for a redesign that will be in the hands of the youth that has seen the damage isolationism causes. It might get worse, oh well. It will get better at some point. Whatevs. Gravity pulls reality hence we will see some very dizzy monsters soon. I was reminded of this torch of sound. haunting and spot on.






The Catholic Church has only taken 2000 years to find a guy that practices what was preached: priests should marry,

atheiests are cool, gays who is he to judge? no designer duds. Holy Crap suddenly Catholicism has a little light and humanity to it. Team Francis!

My hope is that this will take a little venom out of the collective stew, leaving those that are hate filled to be exposed without the shelter of a GOD that judges. So does this mean the advancement of women finding roles that are not strictly saint or sinner? And men that will embrace that? I discovered this and it was a bit of a revelation on how the coming evolution of men are going to no longer look towards weapons, and gold bathtubs for peace of mind. I had a sad conversation with an artistic seemingly intelligent male but alas he seemed to be suffering from the idea that sex gets boring with the same partner, which is why he is a serial cheater and this spills into every other aspect of his life whether or not he admits it. Could it be that we are slaves to entertainment than to pleasure, sex is about pleasure and will never be satisfied or achieved if stopping short on the intellectual whimsy of a caked on cultureprobe steering tween you and your love. Sex is being! I shrugged, secretly relieved that I had dodged that bullet.
 I keep coming back to this idea of a dizzy monster, something terrible and vulnerable, a dangerous percipitation if ever there was one. But that might birth elegance out of nessecatiy, we have passed the edge of reason and are spinning with  arms out all blood and tears and sick the book of gravity looming over the tense spider.
Keep Pushing past the irrational fears, the tumbling worries, the calamaty of comforts.
When nothing seems to help I look at a stonecutter, hammering at his rock maybe a hundred times without even a crack to show, and the 101 will split it in 2, know that it was not the blow that did it but all the work that had gone before. And now for a little real cultural curiosity: The magnimarvelous Leslie Hall:

Vixens, Vamps, Vivas, and Vikings: the alter ego and celestial intervention

What a time of Make Manifest! While sifting through the remains of my slutosphere I have found that my drenched passions have aired and I am resolved to more engaging prospects, my plate for projects and the long view are reflecting in nearly every shiny surface available. This reflection has led to the contemplation in my roles I have played in my relationships and to myself, who I am to me. My evolution from viking (take what you want and burn the rest) to vamp (intentional mischief) to vixen (unapologetic sultry)to viva (zeitgeist extraordinaire)has been a burning rainbow of acceptance for my awkward sharp place in the world. Letting the playful goofball Betty rest in ageless sleep in a tower far from loving eyes. As most women easily navigate the demands of Betty, I relentlessly cultivate my veronica against my squeaky desires to embrace simplicity. I am amazed as I examine the open exchange of Betty's clamoring to be liked and accepted; I cringe as I overhear her batting eyelashes and exposed feelings. And yet I leak with hope that I to will have it all: love, respect, security. The embattled women over the ages as she finds any societal acceptance in her pursuit of happiness has been a footnote to history. This year in post Mayan Apocalypse though the wheels keep turning the direction seems to be changing and women most certainly must find their inner alter ego to offset the carbon footprint of their induced roles as sister, mother, wife, and explore her identity outside of the "relationship" but as an activist, a poet, an inventor, a philosopher, the shackles of the pursuit of beauty as the price of happiness is an illusion. This article sparked my imagination on the power of the term "witch". The tide of women's issues and the glowing possibility of a madam president is inspiring during this time of squeeze, but this pressure is a last ditch effort and will be the motivation for change. I watched the Pussy Riot film at the fundraiser for Titwrench festival Once again it is as masked avengers are we free to speak the truth, I wonder that if it were males would this have been the international scandal.... But it was women and they were exploring using sexuality as empowerment, anger as message, and anonymity as tool. A must see to prepare for what is to come on the ideological battlefield as the old man dies and we burn his throne. (Be nervous future King George the last one was not so popular). So part of the extremes of Vamps and Vixens is their sexual comfort, Mae West was smart, funny, beautiful and was not shy about her taste in men, and lifestyle she wrote and produced and starred and was the top earner in her day and she was relegated to caricature, why? What is the demand for a good girl? What is the makeup of a good girl anyway, by what standards have set or scale to? Is this what feeds rape culture?????? Is it fair that robin thicke and his band of merry married men can write a song about blurred lines that might be playful with his wife but when played at a club has a different context. The male fantasy is well established as healthy and wildly popular from the 100,000,000 views on you tube, but objectifying men is an awkward place where cougars go to fade into cat ladies. Nonetheless for your consideration:

 In other news on the insight and fixing of women's sexuality exhibit b :

 Perhaps it is this celestial fancy occurrence that is kicking up the dust:

for more click here This Is The Big One We've All Been Waiting For : The Grand Sextile Planetary Aspects and Tzolkin Correspondences for the Cosmic Moon 2013 Aloha Planetary Kin: this is your Cosmic skywatcher, Randy Bruner, Blue Cosmic Hand, coming to you from 19.5° on the Big Island of Hawaii. These are epic times in which we are living and this Cosmic Moon is no exception to that. The Maya were avid skywatchers. To them the axiom “As above, so below.” was how they lived their lives. They watched the dynamic of the planets moving across the sky and lived their life accordingly. As I write this we are in the central column of the Tzolkin in the Mirror Wavespell. It is the Summer Solstice day, Yellow Spectral Star, " I dissolve in order to beautify." I'm finding seemingly endless order of correspondences of the planetary aspects and the Tzolkin. I will attempt to condense them for transmission to you. This Cosmic Moon, the last of the 7 Mystic Moons, contains an awesome set of planetary movements and aspects, which correlate very closely to the Dreamspell version of the Tzolkin. The outer planets move very slowly and are already in position as the inner planets move into aspects with them. Just after Galactic Synchronization, on the 4th day of the Magnetic Moon, July 29, 2013, the planets will form an almost exact Grand Sextile. The Grand Sextile also includes two Grand Trines. These are all very positive and harmonious aspects completely surrounding the planet in a Sacred Geometric configuration. This is an awesome alignment of the planets in the solar system emcompassing the Earth in the geometry of a Stargate.

So I guess what I am saying is that the reboot is upon us, and I think it is gonna be amazing if we only show up for it  no (alter ego mask necessary). 

Poetry! Prohibition! and Pleasing (the pulse of July)

Maybe it is the unrelenting heat that makes you relish each tiny pause of shade, each sip of cool, each tease of touch, but I must admit that at a personal level I have found an even Kiel of my deep indulgences in late night shenanigans. I've taken up whiskey again, mixed with pineapple and cider, you have a comet of swoon for all things lovely. So as I embrace a samba of summer a handful of lovely lovers and a hurricane of booze and words, I am reminded of the guiding force of poetry.

Finding the time to dwell on word paintings seems like a luxury that would naturally come from all the automated conveniences of life; after all that was the plan right?  We will all have time to read and write poetry about our deepest passions and pains, if we make washing machines and microwaves and computers to do our mundane drudgery? The 21st century has not been kind to the prospect of poetry, however I guess you could argue that multi media allows for density, but I have been reminded that there is no substitute for quiet ponderings.
The extraordinary occurrence of conversation with a stranger wearing an anatomical heart t shirt dusted the shelves in my brain for abstracts and meanings folded into phrases, A POET! admittedly so and not a teenage boy with Robert Smith hair no less! We flickered over the ages and reasons and I am still riveted by "the way we access art hasn't evolved" we exchanged opportunities to experience the other's work and so this week I cracked into a slender volume of "pohems" Strange Dialect, by Tim Galligan. With in the one stanza of WIT I stopped and exhaled as the entire idea and it's precise incisions released a capsule of tension and I inhaled the rest of his work, evading the sentiment of love but xraying it, noticing each chip in bone. Thanks Tim for giving me a microscope to view the whispers. Perhaps I am glad that there is nothing interesting on TV, save my beloved True Blood, but it has been pulling teeth to find the interest to watch a feature, and for what ever reason I chose Prohibition the Ken Burns doc and reeled with intensity at the empathy I felt towards the prohibition movement which I'm sure you can imagine has always been a foggy foe. I had never taken into account exactly how miserable it must have been to have a drunk husband spend an entire pay check on a Saturday night and have nothing for your children and to be beaten within an inch of your life and have no recourse but the resolve that it might not be a long life or that you might be single in heaven. A dark matter turd

thudded into my chest as I felt the weight of the hopeless stirrings of exhaustive struggle in a lawless senseless land. The realization was that it has always been bullshit, and we have always been 2nd class citizen's governed by fathers and husbands to shut up smile and keep birthin' babies. Women have demanded choice and have been fought with every tooth, nail, and any means necessary to keep their rib broken. But each generation demands more and Texas will go blue over it. We needed prohibition when women couldn't leave, but now we can leave and we can over come and we will and everyone knows it and that's what you have been afraid of all along. The rampant corruption of 2500 years will be reckoned and their might be a hatchet involved.
 While on the subject I would like to be proactive and say that I am in a slut phase, that's right I have started indulging in my desires, it seems that as a single woman in her 30s that got out of an intense 5 years with a man, and then went on to readjust after 2 years in a quiet lonely place I hear and repond to my body again and I make no apologies, for my modified search for some sacred relationship, I am no longer on the mountain top, but a woman with no baggage and no regrets and so before the slut shaming that might come from the outer lands to make me feel small just take a little peak at how silly slut shaming is from the other side. Thanks Jon Hamm for having a nice bulge, it would seem very frustrating that everyone is sexualizing you instead of seeing you for who you are and your talents. On the other side of the coin you have this :


On a lighter note I have been swimming in a recovery vat of pleasure that can only be expressed with this song, I recommend heavy rotation for full effect. Also singin': singin' in the rain in the rain can and will make you a better person , just sayin'.

PS Cultural Crusade: Fine environmental crusading Gasland 2
GASLAND 2 HBO trailer from JFOX on Vimeo.
and the East are both important moments in the tyranny of insanity and the poison of compromising for the profit. And I swear I will get to see How to make money selling Drugs. Also Hooray Oregon! You have joined the higher education of empathy: 

Playing fierce! Some visual deluxe to enjoy for a humpday.

Good Evening well LOVE WINS! At least it is a start, and that Wendy Davis would make a fine Texas Govenor, don't you think? I suppose I could go on about the joy of equality that will be ringing in the states that have equal marriage laws or the amazing Federal approval, but I think that it really just ballons to big to feel the future so bright, lets move on to fixing the voter act, decriminalizing no violent crimes consentual crimes, saying no to Tar Sands and Fracking, shutting down Monsanto, forgiving student debt and reinvesting to education, arts, sciences, and environment, and staying the Fuck out of Syria! So here is a series of lush fantastics to fever your dreams and plump your desires.
Bon Apetit!
curious:
awesome: rally:

Comando and the illusion of Protection

It is a very brief moment for connection, that vital contract of understanding that boasts words and ideas and balloons under the ego of RIGHT. Tonight I have tousled with a soldier regarding beliefs about war and music (it's all crap because of over production, or so I was told) I was given a pass( as I was a useful mind and it needed protection) once again there was presented an "enemy", an evil out to do me wrong (maybe), I argued that I fear not death and I would not be swayed by the desire of safety, by boots or guns or anything that did not involve engaging a stranger in their values. Tonight I recommit to my needs. Finding my voice, though I know that my slender pursuits of drinking and raucous behaviour at clubs and bars and late night trysts with those that do not compel love but mutual affection for simplicity and physical comfort, well I am not ashamed! I am human and though striving for a singular greatness under a stream of evolutionary glamor of art and beauty, even though it is the poison milk of so many before me, my drunken sad clowns tapping the words out, a Morris code for affection. These words are my talent and not my skill but I humbly submit that my eagerness to compress truisms into my chatter in late nights, on bus rides, in the pauses of life is not enough to find peace or reference to my own clarity. I admit that I need you audience, for my clarity is only based on reflections, and I need the night to swim my understanding in. I have a home, a job, a friend with benefits, I am an adult and drink my orange juice form the carton with out regret! This is my solitary chant, but I soften to the chance to awaken a mind to a larger moment in time where meaning is possible, when design is function and you are crafted as whole. Dear reader I am on as quest for skills to reflect my talent and this blunder of jabbering is an offering to the muses that I am not lost to the safe world of speech and affectionate exchanges that I can not trace, but to whimsy of a freedom to express beyond a tailored outcome for individual extraordinary. I offer my bosom to be motor boated by all. I am not these words for you but with you. I am not safe, I am thriving by grace and a desperate melancholy overcome. My people, demand your skill! Demand your relevance! There is no safety in guns, in relationships, in jobs, in dreams, But there is an unfolding illumination to which I will read these words again. Thank You night, Thank you rogue thinkers, thank you orgasms that shattered my identity for that brief glimpse to compassions beyond my obvious. Thank you super moon.

Unfolding DaVinci discovering your Dandylion, It's Champagne Wishes and BusbyBerkley Dreams. A Tribute to Innovation.

In spite of "The America" going crazy, it has been a rich and lush weekend filed with blossoms of beauty and creative spark. Somewhere regaining my vision has opened my field of wonder again as I gear up for a fever of fun.

So DaVinci has been on my radar, when feeling rather slumpy amid the news of a crumbling America and in the middle of a wintery April I found the only thing that held my interest was a new show called DaVinci's Demons. It was steamy and soapy and super entertaining but mostly it brought about the "engineering a dream" question to me. How do you find the diligence and cunning to find the grease, to make the journey, to get to B. Convincing others that your Vision is perfect for the here and now is heavy in my heart, but I type it out and still keep my dedication to work and know that luck will eventually win (luck being the culmination of being where you need to be because you earned it doing what you want to do because you love it.) As my Sunday Funday playdate downtown and I unfolded from brunch to shopping and I was honest and said would you mind if we stopped at ..... well we passed the Da Vinci exhibit which I had bought 2-4-1 tickets to last year and had always wanted to go, it was the final day and the final tour was starting = had to.

 So This is my post from earlier but it was inspiration and it felt sad sitting on the digital shelf, and so I will revisit my fascination with dandelion, the sunny under appreciated in the americas "weed", which is destroyed every year with millions of dollars worth of pesticides; odd considering it was thought to be so precious that it was brought here by the northern Europeons because of all it's prized medicinal value, the bitternessis cleansing of the blood and the kidneys. Anyway the point is that something so determined and resiliant is probally a friend rather than an enemy just like that other weed that has so many uses.

And then there is this magic delight:

Kikki for one (midterms for my Jesus Year. )

Maybe it is a ritual, the river of sadness floods and after another week survived and sometime sparkled, I am awash with dissatisfaction, and nothing will do. My mind shreds each possibility of the nights entertainment, until I am naked weeping and delivering my sufferings to my Universal Benefactor. The story goes something like this; I do not know why I am still here, I do not know how I am to help if this is a place that does not know what to do with me, I can no longer stand the marveling distant "pat on the back"  it is haunting to be more intimate with strangers able to understand their quiet inner prism of desires effortlessly, and only to find comfort in the comfort I bring to others which is only in the deepest throws of random insertions that i can never predict. The mind numbing waiting I have done, and still time keeps on, jailed am I. And  then my heart flutters and I am refreshed, the river has been restored. I wonder, is that is why I have this life? because I am so quick to heal, so quick to forget, forgive or farewell?

I often lose connection to my words, struggle to make the time for my own musings, so well entertained by external impressions and chasing the purpose and the random insertions, but today I am recommitted to the process. I am humbled to be so indulgent in my own inner workings and to expose them here, although one could say it is once again my predilection for intimacy with strangers but this space was created as an expression of my desire to dig deeper into the process of transformation and I find that I am only cured by my own honesty, and I am relieved of the burden of brainswim and clogged intentions.

This year has been a exhibition of failures and pardons, and though I stand recklessly poised to continue in failed attempts at coupling, coding, earning, I will soldier on. Oh yeah that is why I'm here the inevitable rally.

Last month I did the Monsanto protest and it was elating, at some point I chimed in my voice mixing with others as we took to the mall and then up into traffic, fearless and solid in purpose, often met with confusion by the bystanders and occasionally solidarity. There is so much to be done so much to fight for, and I wondered if I am ever allowed to slump from exhaustion as things seem so far from divine meaning.

These broken wheels of government and corporate influence. I have nothing to hide, please listen to the calls from my mother as she worries about my health and we battle over her justifications and my cold assertions and our inevitable laughter over the uselessness of it all.  Please listen to the student loan people once again having lost the paperwork and needing something else from me to prove I am not able to slice off my survival to the bank of no mercy. I wonder why students are treated as criminals and given the least representation yet the criminal corporate culture or just plain criminals are given more financing than a student could ever compare to. Sort through my emails to companies that are looking for someone not quite as dynamic as me.

So what is the point of this postcard from my fortress of solitude? I am bored with my rallying and the carrot, yet there is no relief and I will forget my struggle after the slut high subsides and I am back to the wheel to grind, I am here still here quietly carving into a dream and strangely I know that you are too.

Unlearning the I want what I want and other midnight confessions

A swift kick lunges me out of sleep. The breath narrowly clears and I am with out air as everything bursts electric hot sands tumbling down the dunes of my organs. What have I done? My brain won again today surpassing logic and practice drills and ate what I wanted, drank as I felt soothed my mind and did as I pleased, yet I have no excuse.... I am indulgence incarnate and I want as I want when I want it, which is a very lush way to live (on credit) Why is it not possible that I remember how unhappy food and drink can make me, that my body is sensitive and experiences all of the pains of modern diet trying valiantly to shelter me from the shock, but now is less amused and willing to teach me a lesson. What is it in my mind that allows this unhappiness to boil and fester, to think of comfort foods as deserving, even when it proves to be my misery. Clearly I am not smarter than that women that was ill dressed unable to find a shirt that adequately covered her massive belly, she looked sleepy and confused in line as if she was still in a dream, she ordered so efficiently handed over a twenty dollar bill and checked her phone, her face was rumpled and her blond hair pale and wispy, she got handed her big box and left the scene of her crimes against herself, no one stopped her.


OK I'll say it, I went to Poppeys I got 3 chicken strips, mashed potatoes, a biscuit and a Strawberry soda, and apple pies. I am a fool, and I don't know why I had to have bad food, why I thought it would make me feel better, I lived at the Tree of Life, I worked for Dr. Fung a top notch nutritional and health wellness expert in SF, why do I forget to love my body the way I would love a fragrance, or care for a friend? Today I am still deep in the maze of perception but I confess my crimes of bleary zombie headed ness, I was like that misshapen women, equally willing to endure instead of thrive and I ask myself why am I able to want what I want so well that it does not even serve me? This weekend I took the time to watch this somewhere between Game of Thrones and Glee, and I think it might have had an impact, as I feel even more aware of how often I am leaning into wanting what I want without bothering to ask why and how that really serves me. I realize this is a process to leave loves alone to wander free, but this is an examination if that is possible, this is my own accountability and I need to be able to say honestly this is why I want what I want. The century of self is an in depth BBC special that examines examining and I hope it shakes your dust as much as it did mine. Advertising done well: Dove has consistantly applied messaging to improve women's self image and I applaud them for it, so much so that might just check their label and if it is paraben free, I'll buy it. That's how this game works.