Sunday, July 16, 2017

the art of getting shit done.

I have a lot of shit I need to get done.
I need to do laundry.
I need to clean my room.
I need to wash the dreaded week old tupperwear out of my week old lunch bag.
I need to focus on the future.
I need to stop thinking so far ahead and just be in the moment.
I need to go for a run.
I need to get groceries.
I need to work harder and trust myself more.
I need to stop thinking about unrequited love- but maybe it was only unrequited like and nothing actually matters right now anyway because I'm still so young.. and I need to make decisions based on the now and not the WHAT IF or the future because I'm actually not at an age where future stuff matters or am I? Or does it?

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

okay okay okay

I thought I would be a doctor, a nurse, a lifeguard, an actress or at the very least working in a magazine like Andi Anderson (How to lose a guy in 10 Days). I never thought I would be a writer. I'm not really a writer but part of me says if you write you are a writer and that's just the way it works.
The younger version of me wrote "mystery" novels in my closet. I say mystery loosely because I would write them as scary as I could possible imagine and always end on a joke. It would be a Scooby doo like mystery where a raptor like monster terrorized a group of character's I made up. There would be twists! There would be turns! There would be terror! But always ending on a character loosely mentioned at the beginning of the story revealing him/herself at the end; He or She would apologize profusely and everyone in the story would think it was HILARIOUS.
As a little closet club house girl, mystery novels(with a jokey end) were my jam.  
My mother told me I was going to be a writer; my grandmother told me I was going to be an actress; (based on writing plays and performing plays for hours and hours at her trailer house every summer) My Father is a doctor but writes "like a motherfucker".

But most of the time I'm still writing in my cave closet trying to make my terrifying raptor man funny.

Thursday, January 12, 2017

a list: ways to turn your broken heart into art.

Rearrange your room- make new memories in the new spaces your bed and favorite comfy chair sit.
Create a new way to go home from work.
Try to make drawings with your tears.
Plan a trip.
Go on that trip.
Sing all your favorite songs in a British accent (If you are British try Canadian)
Sleep until you have a creative dream.
wake up.
Write that dream.
Get rich like Stephanie Meyer.
Dedicate a book in honor of whatever broke you.
Go to breakfast at a hotel
get a napkin and write down all the reasons (the person, the event, the thing) broke your heart.
Leave it behind.
Dance to a lot of music.
Cry more & more.
Remind yourself that you are powerful.
and loved.

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Thoughts on Big Magic

I've never considered myself a writer. The title alone seems prestigious and far more eloquent than I will ever be. I get caught up in my words, forget what word I am looking for and I mispronounce words often. (Is it a veggie melody or medley?)

I do consider myself a creative. Creative in multiple ways. Doing improv shivers my timbers and design, content creation and sketch writing get me sweaty and excited. The creative part of me lives in several pools and when just when I thought my interest were pulling me in all kinds of stressful, separate directions I started reading, "Big Magic" by Elizabeth Gilbert.

"Big Magic" inspires you to live creatively even if you are not exactly pursuing a life that is dedicated to art. This book basically says "Hey you want to write, be a stylist, a painter, an actor let me help but also want to learn to knit or build computers for fun, let do that too"

The book explains that creativity is only about making things for the sheer joy of making them. Simple.

From the book: “You can live a long life, making and doing cool things the entire time. You might earn a living with your pursuits or you might not, but you can recognize that this is not really the point. And at the end of your days, you can thank creativity for having blessed you with a charmed, interesting, passionate experience.”

I really loved this book.
Why not create whatever starts a revolution in your heart?

Wednesday, January 4, 2017

a list of: public places to cry (where no one assumes you're sad)

outside in the fridged cold
At the eye doctor
In a hot yoga class
In the fragrance department at Macy's
Near a bunch of children blowing bubbles (soapy eyes)
While petting a strangers dog
Outside of a concert (obviously you are moved by the music)
Anywhere in Target (they get it)
At a restaurant where they cook in front of you (steam in your eye)
Anywhere at the gym
Anywhere at all  (just yell "I've been chopping onions")