Miley and Nietzsche had it right.
It’s all about the climb.
I’ve charted many a mountain.
Hanging only by a thread.
Hope found in a spider’s web.
My limbs have felt like lead.
With bloody knuckles and knees.
Bruises for all to see.
I’ve ran into jagged impermeable stone.
Yet I rose higher and higher.
Fighting against the hourglass.
And dreams lost
I climbed.
Dragging myself toward the light.
Testing my worth.
I reached the summit in time to see
The dawning of the sun.
The breeze reborn, fresh as a new day.
I breathe in the substance of faith.
Exhaling doubt.
He hides his coldness behind a mask of charm.
His true intentions only to disarm.
Lies escape his lips
That never tell.
He plays the game so well.
He is an obsession
A handsome vision
With one glance you’ll be smitten.
He’ll wrap you up tight in his contradictions.
Fanning the flames
Of your incineration.
-Tosha Michelle
This last year was like Gilbert Gottfried’s voice.
Annoying and hard to forget.
Well-meaning, I suppose
And quite a funny darling to some.
This last year was akin to reading Kant
Difficult to understand and once learned
Excessively demanding in its requirements.
No lesson comes without pain.
There’s renewal in regret.
I run away from self-loathing and apathy
into stirring truths and shameless living.
And a new year made up of only sexy, sassy things.
-Tosha Michelle
Random song. This takes me back to London and the O2 The year-2009. There’s a story there. Next time.
My Granny was Southern and Irish (a fierce combination) She was full of wisdom, spunk, and character. Lois Murphy didn’t suffer fools, and she wouldn’t put up with any “backtalk” She was also one of those Grandmothers, who always reminded us grandkids of the hardships she had to endure growing up. You know the type to talk about walking ten miles to school and back in three feet of snow. Although, we lived in the South, and snow was often hard to come by. Still, reflecting back, there were life lessons in all of these talks. It was from my Granny, I learned that pretty is as pretty does, that those chores won’t up and “git” done themselves, and that judging a book by its cover is rarely a good idea. When she spoke of a simpler time, a time without TV, where families conversed, and children entertained themselves by playing in the fields. I recall as a child thinking, how tragic for them. Looking back now as an adult, I think how wonderful. I ponder what I would say to my children if I had a” back in my day” talk. It would probably go something like this.
You know kids, when I was your age, real housewives, were just that real. The situation, was something you did not want to get into, although to be fair, I think that still holds true; in order to even be a quasi-celebrity, one had to have at least a modicum of talent for things like singing, dancing, and acting. It wasn’t enough to just be rich, good looking and have a flare for drama, and sleaze.. In order to achieve hero status, one had to do something heroic and noble Substance, style, and class, meant just that. Social networking involved hanging out on the playground or pajamas parties.
I would tell them of a time before 9-11 and the war on terror. I would mourn with them the loss of innocence, but at the same time, show them that flowers grow through the unforgiving cracks of even the best and worst laid sidewalks.. I would say, children, human beings are remarkably resilient ,and can survive and flourish just like those flowers. I would tell them that as long as there is love in this world, there is hope.. I would then share some timeless truths that a dear lady imparted to me like, pretty is as pretty does, that those chores won’t up and” git “done by themselves and to never judge a book by its cover.
This song goes out to my Grandmother, my angel. I love you. I miss you everyday.
Being sensitive and in tune with the world can be very painful. There’s so much suffering. It’s hard not to drown in sorrow, in both our own and others. However, the only way to be is to feel, to give, to love. The challenge is not in the feeling. No, the test, is learning how to navigate the highs and lows of life’s tide, to understand, not only our frailties, but the frailties of others; to embrace the pain, but never lose sight of hope and the healing powers of love. #balance
Wearing our hearts on our sleeves, is dangerous. We run the risk of having them knocked off and broken, but I’d rather take that chance than keep my heart closed off from the world. I just want to feel, live and BE (and eat chocolate, hang out with Jon Stewart and listen to Justin Bieber tunes while solving math problem) Okay, well, maybe not those last two.
“I can’t help it,
I love the broken ones,
The ones who
Need the most patching up.
The ones who
Never been loved,
Never been loved,
Never been loved enough.
Maybe I see a part of me in them.
The missing piece always trying to fit in.
The shattered heart
Hungry for a home.
No, you’re not alone.
I love the broken ones.”
1. Be comfortable in your skin. Live fearlessly. Know what you want. Embrace your passions
2. Be an original. Remember there is nobody else like you. Never let anyone else define your worth. Define yourself!. Write your script. Make it a masterpiece.
3. Every human life has value. We’re all equal. When the rights of one are violated, so are the rights of all. Be a voice for love and humanity Do more. Expect more. Be more.
4. Worrying and obsessing over a problem is a waste. Use that time to work on fixing the issues and brainstorming solutions. In between, perhaps, eat a scoop of rocky road or have a good workout session with a punching bag .Note, the punching bag should not be someone’s face:)
5. Having hopes and dreams is wonderful. However, making those hopes and dreams a reality through hard work and determination is the stuff of which dreams are made.
6. Be kind.
7. A world without love is like a book without words, a box without chocolate, hope without faith. Empty.
8. “This too shall pass” See. This list is just about over.
9. Perhaps, we shouldn’t be offended by song lyrics, or a piece of art. The world would be a far better place if we were more offended by poverty, war, greed, social injustices.
10. Every day is a new day and a chance to begin again, to love, the ones you adore, to count your blessings,, to dance around the kitchen barefoot with the music blaring, to make up silly songs about your rock star cat, to eat another piece of chocolate, to read an amazing piece of literature, and to realizes life is beautifully complex, but simple too.
Sunshine paints the canvas of my mind.
Blinding me to heartache,
Bleaching away decay,
Shadows fade away.
Grief passes on to where it came.
Vivid shades of orange and blues.
Replace the bleak gray hues.
Basking in the light of love,
Dinning with cheery trees,
I live again.
Stigma has long surrounded mental illness and is rooted in a lack of understanding and ignorance. It’s important that we as a society become informed and educated about what mental illness truly is. Here’s a clue- it’s not called an illness for nothing. It’s an ailment and a disease. Andy Behrman’s Electroboy: A Memoir of Mania is one book that helps shed light on mental illness, specifically bi-polar disorder. Andy’s book reads like a Quentin Tarantino film with a dash of Steve Martin thrown in. I defy you to read this book and not come away reeling.
Fueled by his mania, Andy was on a collision course with disaster including: drugs, illicit sex, prostitution, aimless globetrotting, and art forgery along with a stint in jail. Did I mention illicit sex? I did, well I mean some downright kinky and risky stuff. It’s amazing Andy lived to tell the tale. This, my friends is the reality of bi-polar disorder: self destructive behavior, substance abuse, promiscuity, extreme highs and crushing lows. It’s brutal.
Andy has been battling this debilitating disease for the better part of his life. Misdiagnosed for years, he was prescribed a pharmacy’s worth of prescription drugs meant to stabilize his moods and help him function, but to no avail. As a last resort his doctors had him try electroshock therapy. After many rounds, he’s now stable and thriving. But what a journey to get there. In a head spinning and roller coaster ride of prose, Andy chronicles his bouts of mania and depression. His words mirror the disease itself. You’ll get a taste of the bitter pill that is bi-polar disorder. Andy is shockingly honest and real. He holds nothing back. Electroboy: A Memoir of Mania is disturbing, poignant and eye opening read. Andy doesn’t just explain bi-polar disorder, he makes you feel it.
Everything I Never Told You 