Thursday, April 30, 2009


Apr 30, 2009
Men matters

Word's matter you know? If you've said them, you're responsible for them. In the heat of a controlled and manipulated moment you might say something that can change the course of a life, so you best think carefully about what you say. Of course, if you change a life, it may be a good thing!

Jealousy is perhaps the more dangerous emotion. I've previously said it was fear, but in fact jealousy combines fear and manipulation and that results in a very destructive force. Something that has always long caused this volcanic force amongst women is in fact men. I am puzzled by the rising volume that still comes from women fighting over or stumbling upon the same man.

Perhaps I read Valley of the Horses at too young of an age, but I have always had a relatively open perception about the ways men and women might connect with one-another. This is not to say that I would protect my husband like a lioness protecting her pride, but I would not perhaps threaten to destroy any temporary interloper.

As I return to my investigations into Manthropology, I can not ignore the role we women play when choosing to live and love with these delicious creatures. I hope instead to help illuminate us all as to the effect we have on their characters and how we women affect each other. Not only do we love an adore men, but we must learn to love and adore ourselves and our sisters in order to fully realize the opportunities of passion. 

I recently made choices in my life, which are clearly well documented in this little blog. I am glad for them. Terrified of course, but prepared to commence the next literary chapter of my process. I was a woman with too many ideas and not enough time to process. It's been years since I actually thought.

So thank you dearest readers for letting me muse and letting me wander. I promise this path will become clear to all of us, and you will benefit from the journey. It is an artist's way and I do look forward to further investigating my favorite subject, men matters. 

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Hooray - It's Done

Apr 28, 2009
I did something today that I have been meaning to do for a long time. I stood up for who I am, not who I was sculpted to be. I won't write today in metaphor or ambiguous illusions, instead I'll be straight. I quit my job.
Yes - In this economy and in this world, quitting a source of income is a highly questionable choice indeed. But I realized after nearly 3 years of soul dedication, my process was simply meant to fail. My job you see, for three years, has been to elevate opportunity for others, while taking on extreme risk and responsibility, and pulling across a curtain to protect the wizards behind me. Perhaps I was a docile Dorothy and should have long ago stood up to the curtain, but I didn't. I pretended that we as Wizards of Odds could beat the stats. 

It wasn't until my own personal brand, my own personal equity came into question that I realized this was not the board game for me! Someone suddenly called me young, irresponsible, immature, and "not an expert". In truth, it was actually a few clients, some who directly swore at me as if I was their reluctant mover who deserved no respect. I was held responsible for business missteps I could not solve. I realized that I could not blame those clients, but instead my own playing field which was in fact sub par. My own identity was in fact in question! Of course it took a wicked hyperventilating episode that rendered me immobile (which I have not had since a far more tragic event in my life occurred) for me to realize it's time to tap out of this ring. 

I had my palm read the other day and she said there was a career change ahead and a haunting J in my past. I knew the J but not the career change. Both are now obvious. More importantly, she said that my life would be long and that my health was only hampered by a darkness I needed to dispense of.
So tap tap - onward, upward, opportunityward. Decisions, mistakes, missteps, victories, and errors shall all be embraced in this new adventure!

Thursday, April 23, 2009


Apr 23, 2009
Not simple, not easy. Nothing falls into either of those categories. I am in a relationship that confuses and complicates me. I am accustomed to a simple reflection of self in a passionate exchange yet now I find myself intertwined. My eyes are hazy and my head aches with confusion of how to proceed. The confusion is not the fault of only my marriage, but of something blurring and unexpected. 

Building a life together seems to be the next course of action, but life itself swings in a precarious balance. What kind of life would that be? A pendulum of optimism and inevitable decline? If hope is all I have to go on, then I best find inspiration each step of the way, not punishment of obligation. He should not be punished either by my obligation to survive or to thrive. He deserves a normal picket fence marriage. I can offer a picket fence, but each stake will have it's own character and story. He must be willing to learn a different story and I don't think he can. 

I find myself having to concentrate twice on the spelling of words that once were familiar and my pace has grown too aggressive. But stopping again is not an option because tomorrow it might not be my choice. I might stop suddenly and the weakening strength of my right hand might just disappear. The pain might go from annoying to impairing and I no longer choose, but the choice is left to the fates. 

The clock ticks late and I fight sleep because I know the inevitable and I am not comfortable sleeping through the moments of creativity that thrive. A newfound creativity, a refound passion, and I don't want to let go.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Masta's Beat

Apr 21, 2009
I know I know - It's high time I posted the next installment of Manthropology and I do promise to get to it. It's of course positively no excuse, but a week full of truly painful work and weekend spent baking in the sun whilst seeking some personal clarity distracted me a bit from my analysis.

I do promise to continue my composition, but in the interim, I just need to spill a little about my Friday night. I was at this completely groovin jazz bar in Santa Monica where they play live music. Now this is actually quite a rare thing in Los Angeles because as I've been told by many a bar owner, live music just doesn't pay.

The music was unlike anything I've heard recently. Passionately playful, rhythmically irreverent, and painfully sensual, my mind raced. If you didn't have sex on the brain when you walked in, you did before you sat down. The walls echoed with the fervor created by the musicians and lead singer. Masta - a performer I had never seen before. He spun his voice like a talented dj bringing the crowd to the peak of emotion, pounding of feets, to a screeching halt with unexpected Italian opera.

Like many nights we've all had, there was something in the air. Love, Lust, Energy, something kinetic that connected everyone in that little bar for 3 hours. The two bartenders, both in their late 20s were madly in love. As I sat at the bar watching Masta's reflection in the mirror, I watched their private dance as they moved quickly past each other with subtle touch, serving drinks to their many adoring fans. Like the audience at large, these two young lovers were also spun into a web of passion, fervor, pinnacle, and baited breath by the artful singer, and one could not be surprised that colleagues would fall in love in such a place.

It was a delicious reminder that the circumstance of romance and the circumstance of love play as much a role in its balance as the actual people themselves. Any romance might be ignited, or reignited by the tendrils of a new voice. I looked at Masta's reflection, the young lovers twisting together behind the bar in their artful dance, and the throngs of impassioned masses who were bonded for a moment, an evening, a memory, and I too was grateful to be part of this rhythm.


Thursday, April 16, 2009

Champagne, Flowers and Bubble Baths

Apr 16, 2009
OK - A little off message, but I need to take a moment to ask - If you get amazing flowers at work where everyone can be heartily impressed and then are left home alone on your anniversary night, do you still drink the champagne and take the bubble bath alone? I think you do!!! Because at the end of the day, it is still your day and there is no reason to let a bubbles go flat. Absolutely none at all. Cheers!

8:12 PM

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Paralyzing Self Awareness

Apr 14, 2009
There is something quiet about my thoughts tonight and I don't fully understand it. I did in fact choose to stay at home to read and write searching for another momentary muse. Yet something about my audience now paralyzes me. I do not wish to be known.

The ability to write without recourse, without acknowledgement, turns our to be far more powerful than I thought. The idea that someone might stumble upon my words and find them inspirational is an untouchable fantasy. Yet there in characters and digits are my views.
I will proceed; I will not let this fear of exposure render immobile my opportunities as so many other moments of unprotected vulnerability have left me incomplete.
If I were offering advice to a friend, I would simply say - keep writing, keep creating, don't stop or think about who might care. Just keep your fingers dancing on your keyboard and let the words fly freely. Write about love, write about power, write about hunger and how they all equate desire.

I therefore take my own advice and embark upon my next page.

A little about men

Apr 14, 2009
I have always loved men. The next few pages may not perhaps sounds like they are written by a woman who absolutely adores men so I must preface this with the most important of reiterations. I absolutely love men.

Like an anthropologist studying an ancient culture, I have aggressively pursued my subject of choice, learning their patterns, their processes, their rituals. Understanding their inner most dreams and their outward expressions of manhood.

Through my study, I have often become an object of particular interest to my subjects themselves. I learned time and again how to become the perfect mate for any man, as the calculations are simple. A combination of Mirroring, Reflecting, Protecting, and Empowering with ever varying quantities of each ingredient will do the trick every time.  As one of my dearest friends reminded me, I learned to be the Madonna and the whore, the Veronica and the Betty, the Ginger and the Marianne, and my favorite, a Sex Kitten Pin-Up who can cook.

This is perhaps why I received three very distinct marriage proposals from decidedly distinct men before I finally accepted the fourth.

As a manthrolopogist, (a newly coined phrase invented in Myspace blogland), I categorize men by 5 distinct classifications, each with their own motivations and desires.

As I come to explain each of these archetypes, you will learn that ALL men really do fall into one of these categories. It is therefore not an insult to classify them but a practical way of understanding the man for who he is not who you'd like him to become.

Pretty Boy

My theories of course evolve as I learn more about these amazing lovely creatures. In fact, I recently have established a sixth archetype which was previously missing from my classifications. I tell you it was perhaps one of the most obvious omissions of my research due to the fact that my "creative" business often keeps me separated from this type of man. It is however one of my favorites, because they are the most challenging to understand.


Over the course of the next several weeks, I intend to explain my categories of men and illustrate these archetypes through both my own stories and those of my dear talkative and unknowing friends.

Your comments on my characters, your notes on my stories, and your own additions to this study are greatly encouraged as we together uncover a little about my favorite subject, men!

Digits Rising

Apr 14, 2009

In an unexpected little turn of events, this blog went from having NO views to suddenly showing quite a few page views, which of course leaves me quite curious. Who out there stumbled upon my personal musings and ideas? I have told just one soul about this little adventure and I doubt she has viewed this quite so many times in a day. I've of course sent out a few little viral suggestions to potential interested readers, but that was only on instinct and a whim.
I've chosen this space of expression because writing without an audience seems quite useless. I am a communicator, and like to imagine that my thoughts interest others. Don't we all like to imagine that?

Tonight I am torn between choices of direction and responsibility. Both which will continue to inspire the journey I am on. One feels responsible, one feels indulgent. They are both about the process of work. One is as an artist, one is as a business person, and both are innately valuable. Is feeding your creative soul indulgent, or is that just my puritanical upbringing pounding at my intellectual door. As a child, I could not just write, I had to rise to the level of Editor. I could not just sing, I had to lead the choir. As an adult, I must create, but must I also dictate the process of creation?

I have followed the non-indulgent path for quite some time and that has built many unfulfilled riches. Perhaps I shall continue as an artist for just this brief and fleeting moment in time. I should indulge in creativity because as indulgences go, it is certainly the least dangerous! 

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Finding Comedy

Apr 9, 2009

I met a man the other night who knew in his soul he was a comic, yet he'd never played a club. He knew to the core of his bandana clad being that he had the chops to entertain with the greatest, and so much fear that he did not know where to begin.

Fear of success is a far more dangerous fear than that of failure. It is paralyzing and must be overcome with rehearsal. There is simply no other option. Here is what I told him.

"It's not your fault. You just aren't funny enough yet. Your sense of humor still translates poorly into jokes and lives much better in your clumsy live entertainment show. You ARE a show, and you enjoy being a show. We all love your show but your show is not an act.

If you really want to find your comedy and make a life out of it, you'll simply have to work  for it. You will have to fail at it a thousand times to find one official victory to land one perfectly timed joke. Go play a hundred dark roomed clubs where the sound of the clinking ice in their drinks is louder than their laughter, and then begin to laugh at yourself.

Amusing is not comedy. Clowning is not comedy. Comedy is finding the clearest way to remind someone of the most obvious thing they have ever heard and make it awkward. Comedy is rhythm, Comedy is blues. Go do what you must to find your act and you will never have to simply amuse again."  

to an artist of body and mind

You are a David of Beauty
Your left hand slightly larger
with blue paint covering your cuticles
and I sense you are a ghost.

You, wiry and intangible,
look with mahogany and I peer under your hat brim,
 hoping to find something
 with which I might crash through
your deftly cut marble
and understand the Goliath you face.

Arrested by your surroundings you
watch quietly, avoiding hands that
held tightly to sides wish to again stroke
the rough surface of your face.

You stand there so close yet
protected on a pedestal which begs
do not