Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Naked with Chanel No 5: I can not control all fairy tales.

We are all but players in each other's stories and tonight - more so than ever, of this - I am aware.

There is a villain in my story, a tall and cold selfish villain of a man who stole from me and gave nothing in return who found a vicious witch upon my demise. She took, she crooked, she broke what I crafted and lovingly scripted. She destroyed with one lethal kiss a story I'd spent a decade building and painfully lost. She took from me all grace.

I am the intrepid princess, determined to do right over wrong and give without remorse and create without restraint, I am my own hero. Because in my story - what else might I be?

And yet - in their eyes, I am the villain. The cold, the aggressive, the ungiving. The one who rejected Prince Charming and dismayed his righteous journey. To him, I am flawed, dramatic and unworthy of his triumph. To her - the burden he had to bear on his journey into her arms. He was trapped and she freed him. No matter my story, it is theirs which prevails. I am their villain.

And she, the conniving and ungraceful villain of my story, is simply a princess who after a long journey of lonely pain has finally found the prince charming of her own fairy tale.

So to this I shall resign my own art of words. Two tales of three villains, two princesses, and one prince. It is simply the mirror through which we look to find the story's reflection.

To recognize the characters we play in the story of others is essential, but most importantly to be pleased with the character we play in our own, is the only happily ever after.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Thanksgiving for Friendship

I am grateful for friendship
in all its evolutions,
and believing that tomorrow
might be better than today.

Yet if it is not
and today is all I’ve got
then thank you for the times we have had.

Thank you for the loves I’ve loved
and the life I’ve lived,
the stories I’ve heard,
the adventures you've shared,
and the tales we have told.

I am honored.

Thank you to all
who have laid the cobblestones
upon the road I’ve journeyed,
and mortared the bricks in my creative foundation.

 It is this richness and strength
that you have brought to my wanderings
for which I am most grateful.

Monday, November 21, 2011

I don't know platonic

There are words in my vocabulary, that I've never really understood.

Yesterday, I spent a few minutes, a gas station re-fill in the chilly rain, wrapped up platonically - cold but arms wrapped, held - sweet. Two hearts inches apart, and yes - just friends. Like you imagine.

But let's be honest.

Without connection, there is no reason to spend time in tandem.

With connection, I am simply not platonic
because for a moment, you saw me
and nobody else ever actually does.

And perhaps I am not lucid, or you might think I am a bit batty - and I've never asked

What's your version of this? What do you imagine might not be awkward?

Because I've never asked. What do you expect?

What do we do the next time we cross paths?

And how do you understand this word


Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Naked with Chanel No: 5 - On friendship

You found me inspiring
That's what I saw in you

You found me amazing
I was amazed by you

You seek my friendship
I want more

And simply put
after hours of thought
there's nothing less
that works for me.

Grateful for my caring nature
respectful of my honesty,
at ease,
and trusting.

Those kindnesses don't grow with 
just my friendship.
It is not for all to acquire.
They are not offered in the instance of mere 

They come from more
and I want more
and with less 
we are limited.

To you
I cannot expend
the emotion.

I have been here before.

And for that,
I am
on this occasion
infinitely strong.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Naked with Chanel No 5: There is no Compensation for Inspiration

It's been a while since I shared here.
Anonymity could not sustain itself

Admission of my own composition
and the call from an audience,
over took.

My writing has spread far and wide
and I am once again
naked with my words.

While the compensation
from sharing stories
is mere pennies,

the change affected
when inspiring others
is immeasurable.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

It Could be Anywhere, but it's Italy: A Night at the Opera

In perhaps the most extraordinary vocal duel between two sopranos ever composed, the characters of Aida and Armenis proclaimed their love for the great warrior Radames on a perfect night in the Verona Collesum. An archaic stadium, filled as it was in the days of gladiators. The well coiffed patrons close to the stage and craning masses in the upper galleries all warmed to the poetry of the women's painful aria.

Shouts for 'Cola, Fanta, Vita Vino' echoed from wandering vendors as they traced up and down the stairs at each of the four intermissions.

As if watching two sides of the same woman battle, the princess Armenis demanded that her love prevail, while Aida shrank with resigned haunting pain, merely a slave in the eyes of her nemesis. And neither humility nor bravado would win.

Under the rising midnight stars, in the city of love's greatest legend, thousands applauded for hopeful triumph and certain pain of the romantic soul. Just steps away from Dante's pensive statue, the story of true love's loss is epically carved in the cobblestones of both musical and literary history.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

It Could be Anywhere, but it's Italy: Sitting in an American Bar

Thick is the air in the American Bar
to the east of the Grand Hotel Orologica
that rests unkempt in the Palm Desert
of Albano, Italy.

Rays reach through wet cotton clouds
and she wonders what great celebrations
were toasted in the  aging stucco of the grand
now shuttered palace.

A balcony where once a lover stood
and likely a heart was left to perch.

Just a bit away sits the pensive Calcio Padova
Young, strong, scared, and guided
by a pacing leader who just years ago pounded
foot upon the mound,
and now hopes to raise a ten ranked team to victory
against a number one.

An old man in Padova red bends over to pet a white puppy
led by a boy in Brescia blue, whose mother looks to be an Italian
But then, they all do after all,
and together they cheerily greet a barrel chested patriarch
all tails wagging.

And a writer rolls a large green olive between her teeth.
Careful not to crack her crowns on its solid pit.
While everyone around her chants in Italian
and she listens to the lyrics of an English song
playing on their sound system.

I got you babe.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Back to Naked with Chanel No 5: Day 4 - Looking into Other People's Windows

OK - I'll admit it. I am 100% that person who walks around her neighborhood peering into other people's windows. But it's not a creepy thing. No really, it's not. See I love to see what people hang on their walls.

My own walls are full of memories. In just my living room, I have a Chinese Scroll from a trip to Beijing, the print of "The Butler's in Love - Absinthe" from Bix in San Francisco, given to me by my college boyfriend, a photograph of me wandering through a heavily foliaged arbor taken in Potsdam, Germany in 2000 by a former "Before Sunrise" kind of lover I still know today, and Thai Rubbings collected by my near superhero great aunt who was there the day Pearl Harbor was bombed when she heroically rescued people. The military sent her around the world as a thank you and she collected all sorts of treasures. There's a water color of the ocean painted by the third man who suggested I should marry him, and my favorite painting of my own - a cow we photographed shortly after he asked and I declined just north of San Francisco. And I live in a pretty small pad!

My bedroom, which is obviously anchored by the Warhol of Chanel No 5 above my bed, has pictures of Kennicott, Alaska which were gifts from my brother, the famous Bayoux Waterwheel, a painting of a door in Venice, the Charles Bridge in Prague, and a photo essay of my adventures in Salzburg - Venice-Rome-Florence and perhaps my favorite - Lilies painted by my cousin Lily. I could go on, but I won't. You get the picture.

See what some of us hang on our walls is greatly indicative of who we are in our souls. While some people don't care much about what's on their walls, for those of us who are obsessively visual - what decorates our homes reminds of us adventures and for me at least, reminds that it's imperative we get back out there.

So for the last eight years, I have walked by possibly my favorite painting in the world. It hangs conspicuously right in front of my neighbor's window. It might be Italy, it might be Greece. It's somewhere warm because there is bougainvillea covering the stucco of the tiled roof modest building. My neighbor seems to be just a nice old guy with a nicer and much older dog - you know a black lab with a grey beard. I imagine the two of them sitting together patiently building model ships, like the one that sits in his other window.

One day, I stopped to ask about the painting. He was leaning out his window tending the flower box and I couldn't resist. It's a painting by his sister, of their family land in Croatia. He was reserved and a bit uncomfortable knowing that I adored it, so I moved on quickly and thanked him for answering my question. Yet he cannot be so uncomfortable to share it's beauty because every day it is there, right along my street on the first floor - curtains tied back, window open - beckoning admiration.

And tonight as I tuck in, settling into a new understanding about this particular hiatus, I am glad to be in a community of those who are comforted by the energy of the pieces on our walls. And I'll keep peering in windows for like minded souls as I wander through this world, and each night I'll tuck in safely inspired by the spirits of my own art - Naked with Chanel No 5.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Back to Naked with Chanel No 5: Day 3 - A Day Can Change You

Today was one of those days that may have been three rolled up into one. It seemed to be pretty light and then it became intensely meaningful.

I started with physical therapy and my sweet and iron clawed therapist Kami attempted to relocate my first rib so it would stop it's impingement upon my thoracic nerve. Yep, I made a distinct pouty face as she dug into my chest, and then I went numb. Then I debated whether or not I should go to Southeast Asia or take the time to learn Management Communication in my "hang with the smart kids program". Kami said I should Communicate. I was leaning that way, but her rib prodding confirmed.

I talked to my two school best friends whom I miss terribly during this interminable summer break. One made me laugh as we planned our post grad trip to Cabo (there's a bet as to who is paying - but he totally is). The other asked me if she could tell her story of surviving the 9/11 towers and if I might help her share it with the world. I said yes. And after all that I made it to a spin class, wrote for a few hours, and learned we are being sued (but not really because 1st amendments should likely prevail even in the absence of actual justice).

I had a late lunch with my first boyfriend ever, a man I have always adored but as a couple we were fatally flawed. He's still a Christian virgin and I'm still me. Mismatch much? There was a contemplated ocean swim (the water was a bit too rough) and a conversation with a kid I used to babysit for who is now very much a grown up young man, followed by a long fabulous glass of wine or two and oysters with my would be divorce attorney and his fun wife (had I not chosen to gracefully mediate) and we chatted about all things irrelevant.

and then nothing else mattered.

I heard the most important story anyone has ever told me. Over cheap Chinese and good red wine, my dear friend cried her way through the recounting of the worst day of her life. The sounds, the smells, the electric energy of fear, and the confusion after the calm came. Because survival is not black and white - pain is perpetual, and the obligation of the living is always misunderstood. There is no clarity. The horizon of life is not simple. Instead there is just a story of a very young woman who survived the terrorist attacks of 9/11 thanks to a fateful near car accident with a celebrity that caused her to miss her train to the towers that morning, and her mind is now a cloudy mix of grey memories, pink hope, black loss, white dust, and the need to find light and solace in the sunset of her tale.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Back to Naked with Chanel No 5: Day 1

It's time to restart my man hiatus. Not because I lost my mind again and started making countlesss egregious man decisions based on the crazy cakes of my relationships past, but instead because I dabbled down the road of flirtation - which may have had a shot at being something more like romance. I backed away from a not so productive budding relationship I wasn't all that into and looked starry eyed toward someone I was. Of course instead of treading lightly with this new bloke, your favorite little poet went all sorts of enthusiastic bombshell, got excited, romantic, heart pitter pattery, and well - turned into maybe just actually really liking someone. And then she literally fell down rocks with him, scraped her knee, bruised her elbow and twisted her ankle. (Yes third person is easier with that admission.)

Now here's the deal. It felt precisely awful. Not the pain from the physical stumble exactly, or the weeklong healing of an adolescent scraped knee, but instead the emotion of the metaphor. The moment when I realized I might like a guy, I might want to know him more, I might have to get nervous about whether or not he might like me in return and that I could possibly fall for him was distractingly terrible. Literally unsettling, confusing, nauseating, and fundamentally unacceptable. So clearly I am not ready in any way to be dabbling in flirtation. I just don't have days to lose on whether or not a dude likes me.

I need to grace myself much more gently into this world of mutual courtship. I need to not tumble head first into fantasy of possibility but instead learn to have a first date. I need to find a medium and not just a hot or cold. At some point, I'm going to need to learn to trust without the desire to show and maybe overwhelm with my very full deck of cards on day one.

But now, today, this week, this month - is definitely not the time to try my hand at dating. I am not sure what it even means, and derailing cannot happen ever again. There are bigger mountains to climb right now, things I want to achieve, opportunity here for the grasping that I cannot ignore. I want to someday fall in love again and start anew but I am too afraid and that's not anything I can do safely quite yet. Falling head over barefoot heels for a guy, scraping my knee, and finding myself and likely my heart - black and blue, no matter how awesome he seems on first blush simply will not do.

I'm not yet ready and my alread bruised heart and freshly scraped knee will take a long time to heal.

Just a little poem

Just a little poem
to remind you that today is a day
when you can live,
you can love,
you can share something you have to give.

And even though there is no guarantee of positive return,
It's always better to embrace today with hope
than recall the disdain from the day before.

Because we are simple creatures
in an unecessarily complex web of life.
And needs are basic; kindness, respect
and most of all love.

Give if you can, take if you need.
and know that what did not happen yesterday,
and what may happen tomorrow
simply does not matter today.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Getting back to Naked with Chanel No 5

It's time to take a break again
from the things in life that confuse her most
and spend nights alone with Chanel Number 5.

And once calmed by the ritual
of a peacful scent
and on solid ground she finds her footing,
perhaps in a week, maybe a month
she will harken back to the creativity
that is so oft stolen away by alternative passion.

Because for her there is no medium
only on and off
and escalation of this passion
is found in her work and her play
and she will write for hours
and climb rocks until late in the night,
but rarely can these two forces co-exist for long.

So despite the flings that temporarily empower
igniting a creative and consuming flame
it is her own affection and self reflection
to which she must return
for a truly peaceful rest.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

I am never settling down

So I am definitely not remotely interested in anything that might seem like a relationship and yet somehow I've found myself doing very girlfriend like things with someone that I care about but am definitely not into beyond the friends with benefits kinda status.I've made my thoughts on that habit clear to all - it doesn't work and you end up dating someone you don't like and eventually getting hurt by someone you shouldn't have cared about anyway. Once again my best friend has kinda nailed it - there is no medium for me, only on and off.

And then there is the unexpected railroading kinda guy who blasts in and I'm rendered positively twelve years old again. The ridiculous. The totally wrong in nearly every likely way, run the other direction quickly, and do not think twice kinda distraction that comes in the form of a good thinking, handsome looking, kind caring sorta guy. And so I am magneted but unsure if he is, unwilling to settle into wondering. Either he's all in or I'm al out.

But god knows, we as gals are taught to accept the medium. Taught to accept the simple or the ones who like us back even if only for today, but what guy sits in a bar and says - yeah she's maybe a five or a six but I'd totally date her because my clock is ticking and I'd better settle down? I mean seriously, who the eff says that?

And so maybe, I'm not looking for the five or the six, instead I'm looking for the knock my sox off eleven who doesn't make me wonder, doesn't leave me longing, the one that makes me want to climb cliffs at all hours of the night and for whom I would do almost anything to be the girlfriend type.Yep, woo me. I deserve it. The amount I have to offer, the ways I can give, and the ways I want to share are simply not worth any doubt of ambiguity. Because you wouldn't settle, and neither will I.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Heart on my sleeve

So its just a fact. I wear my heart on my sleeve and it's occasionally a bad thing and mostly a good thing.

Monday, July 25, 2011

Thank God for Cheese, Chocolate, Wine and Neruda

So tonight is one of those nights where I must surround myself with my favorite things to remind me not to be afraid, derailed, or confused by what's ahead. Organic chocolate, organic wine, and an organic version of Humbolt Fog enjoyed after an arugula salad with Goddess dressing and my fabulous echoing amigo Pablo Neruda.

See earlier this afternoon, I spent 90 minutes on the phone with my former husband. Through a clerical error of awesomeness - we are still unfortunately six months away from actually being divorced. I have one of those names that is easily misspelled and sure enough a typo on form one kicked back the whole process and we are again at day zero.

After having witnessed his attendance at a former friend of mine's wedding this past weekend (through the miracle that is facebook) and watching him smile enthusiastically as the couple walked down the same aisle we had done six years ago, I was a bit annoyed. He had no business smiling in our church. He had no business celebrating a marriage when he never intended to make his own work. Compound that now with the issue of being stuck with his last name for another six months and well, so begot a long ass call. Really, we had signed our final divorce papers - damn court. Damn attorney error.

And I know that there are a thousand women and men sitting on their couches right now, flipping through crappy reality tv thinking about their own marriages that didn't work. (And that's just in Los Angeles!) And I know that I am absolutely not alone in being bummed out that the vows I took could have been so disregarded by someone I signed up for forever with. But they were and it sucks. So as much as I thought I was done, finally liberated, ready to sprint, ready to breathe - turns out I have another six months of waiting and that just blows.

Thank god for wine, cheese, chocolate and Neruda.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Mismatched Minutes

For one an hour passes like a day
and to another days seem like minutes.
Three weeks to one is a short afternoon to another,
and there is no correlation to our lapsing of time.

Moments move slower when waiting
and faster when we only wish for the world to stop.
And the metronome of life beats
in cadence with the heart.

And in three minutes you can tell a story
of a lifetime.
And over a lifetime you may never understand
one simple thought,

Because our minutes are mismatched.
Time is relevant only when aligned with emotions,
that feel the spilling of an infinite hourglass
and the turning of wheels inside a watch. 

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

New Rules of an Old Game (a lyrical and temporarily optimistic view)

So I've done some thinking about the rules of the game.
New rules, old rules, it's all the same.
Times may be different than ten years ago
but dating games suck, that's one thing I know.

I see hundreds of guys and gals waiting away,
wondering just if they should call today.
Don't come on too strong! Let them come to you!
But bite your lip anxiously until they do.

And I've certainly charmed more than my share of men
but this time around, I'm not going that route again.
I'm not playing nor coaxing, nor waiting three days.
I'm not letting him lead while hoping in vain.

I'm finding connections and growing my mind.
This endgame is only measured by time.
What matters in this world and what's coming ahead?
What may I take and what should I share instead?

I've been down that road, worn the white puffed up dress
and goodness know that turned out a mess.
So this time around there's no hunting to be done
No scheming no dreaming, no prize to be won.

I'm of simple people - made of water and dust
created to love and be loved, learning what to give
and when to trust.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Let's try this again

So it turns out that a tantrum of written proportions generally precedes a bout of illness - or at least for me. Summer weekend spent with a seriously sweaty awesome bronchial chest punching collar bone bruising cough and no time on the beach is not much fun at all. I'll be ready to try again on some poetry, just as soon as the ethereal hallucinogenic effects of mucinex dissipate.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Mad as mother freaking hell!

Yep, tonight I am just straight up pissed. Somewhere between getting dating advice from a well meaning and dear best friend, which god knows I do not need because I absolutely should not even remotely be dating, and a dumb-ass unneeded update regarding ex-husbandriffic, I want to throw something at the wall.

This is one of those times that a chick who was married/relationshipped for a decade wishes she could just fade into oblivion for six months or so. I spent the day de-fleaing my house because the two felines that  share my humble abode picked up some friends whilst adventuring the hood. (Note - I love the felines and all, but BOTH were gifted from dudes who got all nesty with me at certain points). While bleaching everything in my house,  I also attempted to dye my pristine pink wedding heels a poetic black after five years of closeted awkwardness. I showered twice and checked out my 15 year old tattoo thinking "hmmm what would my mom think of this little piece of defiant art", and then I bought a new vacuum cleaner, (because there is no better time to learn your vacuum is broken than when your house is salted in flea powder). Afterwards I went to the beach.

And here is the freaking deal. I do not want to hang out with my mother on her birthday. She abandoned me on mine. I do not want to be friends with a bully or go on his holiday. He is jerk and I just don't play that way. I am so not interested in dating advice, because I am not remotely ready. My fingers are stained from the RIT dye and the pink shoes will not turn to black, no matter how long they soak. I am mad as hell about the guy who didn't call because I thought - he was maybe even fleetingly not a jerk, (he probably isn't but for the sake of my ego it kinda helps to pretend he is) and honestly to all the guys who gave me felines (and subsequently house fleas) - F U.

But I do have this tattoo and I got it at 18 years old. In college, with a best friend astronaut, we went to some shady (best-of-the-city) locale in Oakland and she got a rocket ship heading to the moon and I got an infinity sign made out of a vine. And back then, I promised myself, as I do today - to be infinitely passionate, to be infinitely alive. I wanted my older brother to someday tell my parents about the mark I got, but at this point - it's mine. All mine.

So yep, positively incensed tonight. Angry about the things that didn't happen and the loves that fell apart. Wanting to throw rocks at the guy who didn't call (or email - frick you interweb), and the ones who gave me cats. But most of all, I am determined that when tomorrow comes, I will wake up and remember that my mantra is infinite vitality - and come what may, in life I play - so let's find some adventure because grumpy, is just no way to stay.

Monday, July 11, 2011


undistracted after a hiatus
focused on the opportunity ahead
not confused by romance lost
but excited by her ideas instead.

and the warmth of summer's waves
the changing of life's tide
a new way of spending days
nurturing this creative side
is all so very good.

and even though it finally feels strong,
lingers a quiet echo of something wrong.
because leaping for heights above
is simply far less intoxicating
than falling in love,

but it will have to do for now.

Summer's Warmth by Joe Mancuso

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

The day is not yet ready

The day is not yet ready
to burst forward with full light.
Instead she turns tentatively
afraid of the sun's inevitable bite.

Wanting to leap forward,
she's made a few passionate steps,
only to realize that the axis of her footing
solidly has not yet been met.

And what of expectations
for all those future dawns and dusks?
The day is not yet ready
to understand nor hungry enough to trust.

And in time the day can learn to flow
with the turning of a lunar tide,
but for now she fears
the scorching sun and a blue moon ride.

So until the day is ready
to embrace the weather patterns ahead
she'll hide inside earth's poetry,
and the safety of her imagination instead. 


Limits, fences, expectations, 
I'm not good at setting them.
It backfires without exception.

For those I've loved, 
its simply been the same
unlimited license to attack,
I learned and taught a dirty game.
I always fought back.

But here's to trusting that 
it's ok not to just let darts fly.
And here's to trying 
not to throw them in reply,

but instead just saying "ouch
please stop." 

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

A swimmers poem

The buoy in the distance
bobs orange and welcoming
Its color is meant to call caution
instead it begs come hither

and strokes matched with fins
out to the buoy I swim
day after day, sunrise and sunset
my wet ritual of salty peace

indifferent to the shadows 
that wander below
from the waves of this ocean
my strength daily grows

and as hand taps orange buoy
and back I then stroke
my mind, nay my sole
is gently afloat.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Dear Big Brother

Dear Brennan,

I miss you. I miss all that a big brother could have been and all that a little sister wanted to be. See, I've found my way back to the person we always talked about and I'm finally doing the things I said I could and would do, but just like when we were kids, that person doesn't get along so well with the parental units. And I wish I could have escaped to Alaska too, but for now Santa Monica is my own Alaska. I'm safe in the ocean and it feels almost as far away. I sleep under the Kennecott Northern Lights every night and wake to the red paint of the mine every day. They are my favorite pictures.

I wore your dream catcher earrings on the first day of graduate school, because I wanted you there with me. I filed my divorce papers on the way to school that day which was strange and then we did this really weird survival study thing about a pilot killed in a plane crash which cut deeper than anything I could imagine. But there is a guy with the last name Brennan in my class, so I think you might be there, or at least you helped me through day one.

And on a night like tonight, when everything is going overwhelmingly right and I am feeling so very inspired, it scares me. I don't know what to do with all the opportunity and responsibility to achieve. And I just wish I had my big brother to remind me that being scared is stupid and there isn't a mountain I can't summit, because sometimes it's hard to convince yourself to just keep climbing.


Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Getting Back to Santa Croce: Tix Confirmed

So yes, it's totally Eat-Pray-Love of me but today, on the day I finalized the end of one very long, very trying, in early times precious and later times heartbreaking era - I bought a plane ticket to Italy. The last time I spent quality adventure time in Europe was in 2000, before so many things happened. How very different the life I have lived these past eleven years was than what I imagined when first moved by the creative vortex of Santa Croce.

In preparation for the upcoming adventure, I wonder what sort of featured blog I should write. It's a perfect series opportunity, I'm just perplexed at what I want to learn about myself these days.

With all my darling readers in tow, I've wandered down the road of Abandoning the Little Girl, ending up right back where we started. Turns out, the little girl inside is just never going to go away and in-fact I quite like her. She's often covered in salty-sandy sunscreen playing in the waves or dirt covered climbing up the nearest mountain. She's sometimes dreaming of being a princess and fairly sure she'd like to rule her kingdom instead of waiting around for prince charming. Yep, I like her quite well.

Then we played with being Naked with Chanel No. 5 for 40 days during my self imposed man hiatus. My Late Lent was actually quite fun. Yet while I was able to halt a terrifying pattern of truly bad man decisions - I'm still pretty much the same passionate, fiery, occasionally confused and eternally loving woman I was before. I now just enjoy the subtle sensuality of Chanel No. 5

So what shall I learn in preparation for Italy? Is it just another opportunity to affirm those basics I know to be true? Maybe I'm meant to spend the summer re-embracing a journey with the same abandon I did at eighteen. Is it time to re-open my scrap book and flip through the pages of aspiration?

Perhaps it's just about getting back to Santa Croce. Armed with nothing but a backpack, a map, and an open ended train ticket. A renewed passport to freedom.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Let Freedom Ring

Ten years boiled down 
to thirty simple minutes with you, 
five signatures
and an affidavit of adieu.

Peace Out - things I could not fix.
Ta'Ta' to all I certainly will not miss.
Ciao for now, giving without return.
I bid farewell to all you did not earn.

Adios uno, tres and dos,
it's time I abandoned this dissatisfying post.

And on my own, I am happy,
free to simply be.
Because for at least a while
It's finally all about me.

Monday, June 27, 2011

A Love Letter to the Ocean

Your sand between my pedicured toes
your salt water fills my sunburned nose.
The sound of seagulls caca-ing in the sky
as pelicans in their skimming patterns fly,

and in these waves I am at ease
moving with whatever rhythm you please.
A cresting tide breaks overhead,
deep I dive to clear my head.

and while your utter power is one I shall never know
a simple comfort from these waters doth ever flow.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Whoever Tells the Best Story Wins - Why Les Mis has played for 25 years

Tonight I watched again, as I had only once before as a girl - wide eyed and heart aching, the telling of one of the most passionate and impactful if not important tales of contemporary literature and musical theater. Les Miserables has enchanted audiences for 25 years as it wanders through the pain of a burgeoning French revolution weaving in its inherent tragedy - a love story, a life story, and a father's tale.

It is a tale that has it all - and in its most recent retelling in Los Angeles' Ahmanson theater, not an eye remained dry on a sunny summer Sunday night. The fathers ached with the sacrifice of parenthood, the lovers held hands as Cosette and Marius professed passion upon first sight, the brothers and soldiers shook with the memory of standing together in fight, and I mouthed every word with Ebonine's On My Own.

I have beside my bed my next reading assignment, a book titled Whoever Tells the Best Story Wins, and I know it certainly is true. A simple beautiful tale of love, family, and the undeniable desire to be free has captured audiences for a quarter of a century. The legacy of story tellers who created and the performers who have since recreated the tale of Les Mis have most certainly won.

Let the shrine of friendship, never say die. 
Let the wine of friendship, never run dry.


For a week we sat only a breath's distance apart, watching people we then hardly knew bare their souls - and a magnetic fire was sparked among us all. The honesty of the room, the fear, the intensity, the pain, the trust and hope all fueled a like minded flame.

And then one night, over a glass of wine, in a crowded penthouse bar it was as if nobody else was there, we talked quietly. I was nearly shy and still thinking of you after you left. It seemed you perhaps were thinking of me in such a way. Other forces had played with our senses that day.

The delicious flavors of an overwhelming week were made more powerful by the sound of your voice behind me, the surprise of across-the-bar eye contact, the thinking and contemplating an emotional deduction. The touch of your hand on my back walking through a door, and a wine influenced dueling flirtation that spun into tangible seduction.

I found myself intoxicated by not just your smile but also your story. And wrapped in your arms not so innocently dancing to the sounds of an old school crooner, I would not resist. I warned that I could fall in love with any him. And then we rested, enchanted by a memory of earth shifting elevators, passionate conversation, the tender ache of touched sunburned skin.

And in the morning when the sun re-claimed the day, it all seemed so very perfectly ridiculous.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Lips Touch

I have always been this way
Passion is my life's breath
 and I will fall again 
and I will fly
and my heart will beat
in rhythm with my lover's
because there is nothing
more powerful 
and nothing more pure
than a kiss

Friday, June 17, 2011

So lets talk about Highs and Lows

Yeah - well we've all had that day. That 24 hours where the roller coaster of emotion shakes you from head to toes and you can't entirely make sense of your highs and lows. Let me tell you about mine.

I had lunch yesterday with my father for the first time since my head got knocked silly while riding in the back seat of a cab and then by a dumb ass drunk driver. He reminded me that in fact it was partly my fault that he and momita didn't show up while I was all wobbly to bring me groceries or frankly even to say yo. See I had told them just a few days prior that I didn't want the bad, the mean, the angry any more. If we couldn't make it good, we best not bother. My fault that my parents couldn't or wouldn't help me....maybe. One thing is for sure, nobody is ever a perfect daughter but I'm not sure you can expect perfection from anyone.

Then I got a call from my soon to be ex husband. Now a big part of the whole finalizing shenanigan has been health insurance. Post head knocking, I wanted to be sure I was covered through my regaining of sensibility. Frankly I credit our mediator for that logic because lord knows I was def lacking during that phase. Turns out Ex Husbandriffic's switching firms and I'm gonna be up shizzit creek come day 30. I suppose it was interacting with Pops that reminded me how to be cold and "constructive" so I maintained my calm when he informed me I best pay for my own self and reminded him he was legally obligated to cover me til next month. For god sakes - cool ol' daddy got him that gig and any subsequent opps are surely derivative.

But somewhere amongst the ickness of yesterday, I got the idea to interview a pretty awesome dude for my other blog. He's a newsmaker despite all odds and I hit him up email style and we had a fantastic convo this AM. That lil chat led to hundreds, and I joke not, hundreds of hits on my newest adventure: I was reminded that I am not so crazy, no so bad, in fact - I actually have a talent or two that people like. Hello High! Nice to see you.

And now, one more low. I've been working my ghetto tail off to make up for a really crappy grade in Stats the first semester of graduate school. I needed at least one A this semester to secure my continued enrollment in the learning to be a business person class of 2012 for 120k at UCLA. It's like attempting to win a marathon against a Kenyan and why the eff a poet is up against financial brainchildren, I'll never know. But some races, I simply can't win. So hey - yay, B+ in Accounting for Managers. $1400 in tutoring, 100 hours of studying, yeah middle of the freaking pack, and still not enough to lock and load. Here's hoping Econ comes through. Couldn't have worked harder.

Long winded, confusing, frustrated. But at the end of the day, people seem to still think my opinion is funny so at least there's that.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Alright Dudes

So here's the scoop, kinda sick of dudes being dudes. Hef, Gene, Wiener, Newt, Uno, Dos, That Guy - (yeah those last three are nicknames). Please dear god of man logic explain to me exactly what makes your average dude able to think that even though he's a bit on the portly side, less than hot, in his late 30s, and ambiguously employed,  be so damn certain he's waiting for freaking V.S. models?!?! I'm not bitter (doth she protest too much) but I am pretty serious on this one. Most guys are just not all that!!!

Hef - You are super duper proud that you could tweet about spending the evening with six women the day after your 24 yo broke off the engagement - dude, you are an old raisin! Aint no viagra making that work. Please stop pretending.

Gene - Don't be an idiot - Shannon rocks and you really really shouldn't be such a dick.

Wiener - Dude, put down the goddamn camera phone.

Newt - Ewwwww

And all the rest of you - Yeah, it's way fun for you (but decidedly confusing for her) for now, and at a certain point, just like our dear friend Gene has learned - being THAT GUY is going to peter out and you will have blown something you wish you didn't and probably lost a friend you wish you hadn't.

And as I tuck in watching Love Bites when I should so totally be finishing HW for my Leadership Case Study, all I can say is - Alright Dudes, waiting for one of you to drop the dude and act like a man.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

I might be in luvst again

Crap - So I totally broke the 40 day hiatus by making out with a dude. That's ok, fasts are meant to be broken, hence the word breakfast, but frankly this kissing issue is the least of my problems!

See the real deal is, despite a 40 day break, I'm perpetually nail biting confused and soul aching lust/love with someone that is sure as shallots not likely to love me back and I've got to figure out what to do about it.

My best friend calls it 'The Condition of Hot Guys" - the super cute ones are always straight up crazy trouble, but rats they are fun. She has thus determined that my alter ego "The Nerd Hunter" is a far safer sexual superhero to embrace. Yet I can't help it. I like the guy who embraces danger, adventure, is sexy AND challenges me intellectually, and at 6' something - makes me feel small. (Why in heck's sake does a woman like me, ever want to feel small?!?!)

Here's the deal - I want to drive down a road of adventure all night long! I want to risk it because yes, I am a decidedly risk prone investor and I'm willing to go for the highest reward. It's not going to happen by choosing anything but fire. I just need to figure out how the hell not to get burned.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Some things are better in the rain

Paris is better in the rain.
The Charles Bridge in Prague 
is better in the rain.
Florence is better in the rain,
Love is better in the rain

I attended a wedding this weekend in the hills of California's central wine region. The bride and I have adventured the world together and grown from hopeful creative artistic little girls to hopeful creative artistic women. As we grew we both tried on more formal hats only to discard them instead for flowers in our hair. There is a soulful poetry in her spirit and as I wound my way up the historic 101 highway past a dark and tumultuous pacific, I realized that there is no bride better suited to a rainy wedding than my friend. 

Captured in a last minute tent on top of a winery's hill, we watched the wind whip gently back and forth across fields of pinot noir and her perfect white taffeta dress stayed pristine as she navigated a muddy landscape towards the aging barn's wooden doors. The rain misted the ceremony tent and as if in a greenhouse, we saw the blooming of a young love, gentle souls agreeing to support and care unconditionally for eternity. 

The dark greys and blues of the sky cleared for a moment to rosé and champagne as the ceremony ended and the couple emerged into the evening's rays. We were all captured by their honest and almost innocent true love.

As we danced the night away in the hearth of a poppy and candle filled barn, we were warmed by the forced closeness due to the wet outside. It was then that the bride and I shared a smile, remembering all of our own travels knowing - some things are just better in the rain.

Friday, June 3, 2011

because I will

i should not write today or tomorrow
because i will be too honest

i best not embrace joy or feel sorrow
because both will only cause us unrest

i cannot come here with you again
because i already imagine us while asleep

and i recognize your fear of much too much
because what I feel is always far too deep.

so instead i bury my head in the sand
salty skin, crisp tan lines yet with no anchoring hand

because if i share what you want - my soul will inevitably pour
and a picture perfect performance will reopen this door,

and all i can hope is that in time I can care less
because i fear you will never care anything more. 

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Melody of Dawn

Now awaken with the sounds of spring.
The up - up - down cooing of a lonesome dove 
and sparkling chirps of the unnamed morning bird.

Sun warms a brisk and dewy California.
The cool air breathes clean,
as the day's tendrils of color highlight 
the bluish gold and pink
of a broad ocean sky.

And morning is the only time of day
we have control.
The rest is positively unknown.

It is the only time of day, when alone with our thoughts
silent with our hopes, 
there is not yet other white noise.

Today rise to the hopeful calls
of the melody of dawn
and embrace the start of something new.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Naked with Chanel No 5: Day 40: The end of a hiatus!

So 40 days ago I realized I was entirely confused by romance, by circumstance, by relationships of no consequence and so I went on hiatus. I tapped out of flirtation and stepped back from dating, mating, relating even interacting with guys. In order to quiet all the noise and influences that didn't serve my own hopeful dreams, I went dark. What a girl can learn from a fast!

First I learned I can and will fall in love with just about anyone because in my opinion people are extraordinary. I love nothing more than digging into someone's soul and understanding what makes them tick. It helps me understand my own mechanisms. I believe I have something to learn from almost every soul I meet and I cannot shut myself down from that sponge like desire. The difference however between letting myself love unrestricted and untethered with the rhythm of life versus aching from hurt caused by the imbalance of my poetic expectations and reality of the people I meet is what I must practice.

Second I've learned that following a divorce, you really really do need to find time to be alone - entirely and completely alone. After the last 40 days, I am most definitely not ready to even consider testing any sort of dating waters. In fact, as I review the final terms of my divorce which will be executed 30 days from now and scroll through the pages of the last forty days, I'm pretty sure that I will have a summer free of anything close to falling again. Its amazing when you realize what you want more than anything is perhaps the very worst thing for you. I know that even the smallest amount of affection will lead to my inevitable collapse into a mismatched relationship, so I best sit in my own corner for a while longer. It's been a very confusing year.
Last, I do believe that now that the noise has quieted and I've considered the gap between my own misplaced romantic fantasies and the reality of the type of guys I've dated - I might now be able to better identify when I am just flirting with the hopeful inevitable romantic poet attaching to anyone or instead actually engaging with someone who might want more than just a fling. I look forward to that day, just not any time soon.

It's been a journey and I've come to learn that there are very few things better than choosing to take off all the armor acquired over the course of relationships staring openly at your own reflection, finding what makes you sexy, compelling, and instead of needing another's reflection to simply understand who you might be, just resting quietly, alone Naked with Chanel No: 5.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Naked with Chanel No 5: Day 36: Pattern Seeking Story Telling Girl

So I've just wrapped up another intense MBA class weekend. Usually by this point I'm so emotionally spent and academically frustrated that I take to my house with my DVR, cats, and a glass (ok let's be honest bottle) of wine. But this week is decidedly different. These past few months as my brain returned to functionality post concussion, it was as if it awoke refreshed and with a bit of a different intellectual scope. Frankly, I'm a little bummed this term is coming to an end.

Now the theme of my Macro Economics class was that we are Pattern-Seeking, Story Telling Animals and there could not perhaps be a better theme for me. I see patterns in my own life and am constantly finding voice to tell stories about them. Understanding the causes of behavior, recognizing the leading indicators of failure or growth opportunities, and most of all correlating experiences to outcomes.

Something that has always plagued me personally and academically is the question

"So what do we do now that we know there's a problem?"

I've been looking for conclusive answers all along, and the truth is - there aren't any. There is no big book of answers on how to fix the economy, change consumption behavior, heal a broken heart, correct the capital account imbalance, or find the perfect partner for happily ever after. The deal is once you've reflected, run the regressions,  made charts of positives and negatives, and come up with your history, you have to take a stab at it. It may not be "right" and it probably won't be "wrong" but with the knowledge you have, take the best shot you can to try to get a different outcome.

So instead of repeating patterns, revisiting old bad behaviors, and trying again what didn't work before - even if it's comfortable - even if it feels natural - even if you are afraid, you have to push yourself just a little further out of your pattern if you ever want to create a new story.

Goodnight all! Save some money tomorrow, believe me - we need to! Naked with Chanel No: 5

Naked with Chanel No 5: Day 35: Caution Curves Ahead!

Alright, I'll admit it. Today I totally failed at my endeavor to not be a flirt. Maybe it was all the hard studying or being cooped up in a classroom and a hotel, but I found myself neck deep in inappropriate text messages during class with a former fling which only fueled the fire of flirty. So when I headed out with classmates after a particularly inspiring lecture from Boeing's CEO, it was all I could do not to flirt with the waiter at the restaurant with a mechanical bull and avoid my progressively inebriated classmates as they began to profess their booze fueled inclinations toward my clearly curvy behind. Thank god I was able to escape, but I can't lie..

I flirted back.

So now, I need to figure out what my next month is going to look like. How do I learn to safely flirt without putting myself and my heart at risk? How do I wait for the hot until I find the happy? How do I learn to flirt without over promising, over exciting, or misdirecting? The last time I walked down this path, I ended up accidentally romantically involved with a dude who was super not available and kinda heart broken because I thought we were just friends.... so how do I learn to interact with guys in a safe, flirtatious, and productive non destructive way?

I am a passionate and fiery kinda woman and that is never going to change. But there must be a middle ground between combustion and hiatus. Somewhere that earth shaking but not heart breaking - instead functional making and body quaking can co-exist.

Fortunately, despite my most carnal instincts I am tucked safely away again and continue on my path to suss out this love labyrinth. Until then.... Naked with Chanel No: 5.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Naked with Chanel No 5: Day 34: So who are you gonna be today?

The other evening over a spicy Malbec and a plate of Humboldt Fog, a sage friend of mine noted "There is nothing more to me than me."

I'm keeping it simple today. You are who you are - not what you've accomplished. You are who you are - how you love, how you feel, how you react, how you give, and what you take from this world. You are not what you do or what you've failed to do.

Whether it's your parents, your bosses or your social circle, there is likely somebody putting pressure on you to achieve more, do more, spend more, be something you aren't sure you want to be. When we meet someone we don't ask what drives them - we ask what it is they do to make their living.  We are forgetting that what truly makes people powerful, impactful, and amazing is not their worldly achievements, but instead those innate characteristics that drive them to do what they do. They are nothing more than simply who they are.

Now I'm not getting all socialist snuggly and saying don't work hard, ever stress and instead just "feel" your way through life. Heck no! Dream big, desire lots, take everything that makes you you and channel it into your championship, hope for all you can possibly imagine, but at the end of the day - if it all doesn't happen - you are still you. You still matter.

There is nothing more to me than me, Naked with Chanel No: 5

ps - Humboldt Fog is a cheese people

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Naked with Chanel No 5: Day 33: Time for a new mix

So today as I climbed and climbed again the old wooden stairs near my house that lead to the overpass that leads to the parking lot that leads to 100 yards of grainy golden sand that leads to a usually turbulent pacific where I finally find a wee bit of zen, I realized I need a new mix. I've done those stairs a thousand times, and my thighs have been in many iterations of lean strength and rolling thunder on that climb. It's hot, it hurts, and I usually see dolphins.

The music mix of my sweat sessions was composed a couple years back - a few new tunes here and there - but while I've updated my iPad, my iPod, and my Android I still have not updated my shuffle. The songs that play on my shuffle were compiled and gifted by someone who took care of me when the one who should have didn't. They reflect more to me than they ever did to him because I fell in a Florence Nightingale kind of way, and he just gave me a flash drive. I think in some unintentional way I was hanging on to the soundtrack of our friendship because it felt like home, but it too has become retro. I don't need those tunes anymore.

It reminded me of my first mixed tape, from the youngest love of my life. A musician ached in his soul but the creative pyre was far too dangerous to sustain. I was inspired and terrified and today I look back and know we would have meant combustion, but Janis Joplin and Bob Marley were never simple. I still have that tape - It's starts with Free Fallin, but I actually have nothing to play it on. A trip down memory lane, I read the insert on the cassette case.

So I ask you all, my friendly friends - what music inspires you? What songs make you run, sweat, spin that extra mile? When you aren't sure you can climb another step, who's voice do you hear? When your heart feels like it's being squeezed dry, like a sponge, who fills it again? Where do you find your inner powerhouse, or better yet - your inner Lala? Send me song tips, hell - send me songs. I want to know what I should be climbing to!

For now, I'll tuck in to the soundtrack of my memories and curl up listening to Free Fallin, Naked with Chanel No: 5.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Naked with Chanel No 5: Day 32: On Humor, Irony & Jackasses

Wow I don't think I could possibly laugh harder than I did last night! I, along with a  reunioned cast and crew of a short film I produced last year, attended a decidedly awkward awards ceremony for a film festival in Los Angeles. The event itself felt was like a disco lit rave/non-denominational wedding for a woman who really liked to give out statues. At a certain point, I wasn't sure we were even in the right banquet room!

The awards show started out nearly an hour later than expected and perhaps we'd all had a bit too much wine... Our wayward cast and crew sat in the back row and hooted and hollered like hooligans as a film about a Wedding Party and some dude named Charles were nominated for everything. My date was one of my very best friends and dearest of confidants who agreed to take our girl's night in - out! Getting the giggles was the least of our concern, uproarious laughter at wholly inappropriate moments was far more likely! We were nonetheless honored to receive awards for our ensemble cast and superior writer/ director. WE WON!

I was intoxicated with the comedy of the evening and charmed by the irony of the generous bonds created through artistic collaboration. Gone were the wounds of bruised egos of all the frustrated producers and exhausted crew members. Years later (because film production literally takes years) we had moved past disagreements and instead laughed together in celebration of success. A team of extraordinarily talented filmmakers, actors, and creators came together like a titanic crashing wave and made some truly funny shit one summer in the heat of Hollywood.

It was a precious reminder that all things in time get easier and nothing worth doing is simple. The blood, sweat, tears, and energy of today will lead to laughter and triumph down the road. Whether it be a battle with a project, test with a lover, terrifying personal goal, or struggle with a friend - all good things take hard work, some don't run perfectly, and in the end - most things turn out as they should. You may even win a little bobble tailed JackAss statue with your name on it when it's all done.

I of course found myself re-bit by the creating bug and spent the night dreaming of another set, another cast, another tale to tell. Chomping at the bit, I cannot wait to produce again, but for now I have a different mountain to climb. For now, I am bound to books and calculators.

But through the gentle process of clearing my head of the man-confusion I have wasted so much time battling, I am finding my way back to my own clarity of purpose. Yep, my heart still ached a little today when I saw someone who I once thought I could fall for, but and after a night like last night, a girl doesn't need much more than to be home Naked with Chanel No: 5.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Naked with Chanel No 5: Day 31: Matisse, Mountains, and Midnights

I'm perhaps so overly excited right now that it has resulted in a bit of writer's block!

Do I want to share with you the story of my Friday post studying glass of wine with a dear friend who has found a new nest tucked away in a tree-house and is ready to take flight on the inevitably terrifying process of starting anew as a divorce begins? I have been in her shoes. Many of us have worn those shoes and we share so much. While stories are different and the pain is so very private, it is not ultimately a unique experience. We are a new generation facing love and loss just as many have before.

Should I tell you about the magical inspiration of a Woody Allen film, Midnight's in Paris? The picture captured perfectly the fantasy of meetings one's muse while walking in Paris in the rain. The gentle comedy of a mismatched couple unraveling and the reminder that there will most certainly be a new stranger to meet on a bridge to somewhere - inspired in tandem. Again the evening was shared with a like minded and similarly strong woman who's independence from marriage years ago came as an equal chilling shock. She survived, thrived and so will I.

Or how about the story of a hike in a new direction. Accustomed to the beaten path my adventurous climbing partner and I turned to another mountain and found ourselves lost in a canyon. Without a certain direction we wandered through a gorgeous green woodland to an open horse field and then along Sunset blvd for miles to get home. Inspired as always by her insightful reflection and similar life's experiences, we came up with a plan for the next phase of Naked with Chanel No: 5 because I am most definitely not ready to dive back into dating in nine days!

I am too jumbled with ideas, and laughter to calm myself into a conscious stream of thought. Instead I will turn to a whiteboard wall of ideas phrases and be grateful that as I sit here in the library at UCLA with two more brilliant classmates I am learning a lot about life, love, and finance and perhaps how to be perfectly satisfied by the inspiration of friendship, the power of a community and not at all afraid to be Naked with Chanel No: 5.

Friday, May 20, 2011

Naked with Chanel No 5: Day 28: What inspires you?

I was grumpily walking to an appointment (physical therapy week 8 is wearing on me), when I heard a little girl singing that perfect smile inducing song. Her voice merrily chirped "Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens..." and I suddenly found a spring in my step.

It got me thinking about lists - favorite things, inspiring things - and just how freeing it can be to remind yourself of all the ways you can tap into this great big world to re-find some fire! Because when the dog bites or the bee stings (which in my case is nearly fatal) - simply remembering those things does actually help!

So here's my list:

1) Sunrise, the sun at noon, the sun as it sets. Anything that has to do with that big revolving globe of warmth totally does it for me.

2) Powerful women. Whether it's my darling burlesque troupe, my classmates, my few best friends, or my co-producers - nothing is more exciting than being surrounded by a passionate and powerful group of women who together are working towards a goal.

3) I get super turned on by artists, creators, inventors! People who wake up still dreaming about what they might create today, and actually try and do it. So I guess this means, I love the artistic do-ers. Bring em on!

4) The unexpected - inspiration when it jumps out and shouts - HEY THERE! Like yesterday, driving along Santa Monica boulevard I nearly rear-ended the car in front of me when I saw the  Warhol posters of Chanel No 5 hanging in a gallery. HEY THERE! The world is listening.

5) There is nothing better than singing at top volume in my car - my own private performance of everything I'm feeling. Whether it's my girl P!nk, Gaga, Adele, K'naan or that one song by Carbon Leaf - Life Less Ordinary... positive pick me ups can make a day.

6) Waves, Seaweed, Pelicans, and Sand between my toes, in my shoes, on my towels, and dirtying the entry of my home. The ocean in all its confusing powerful glory is pretty much the most calming and inspiring presence I can find.

7) Favorite Places: Santa Croce in Florence, the secret vineyard and nearby cemetery in Marmont, beneath the Santa Monica Pier, The middle of the Charles Bridge in Prague - in the rain, the top of Victoria Peak hiking trails in Hong Kong also in the rain, the gardens in Potsdam, the Marina in SF at night, and sixty feet under water diving with sea lions.

So what are your favorite things? What inspires you and why? Make a list. Read it when you are grumpy. Be selfish and don't pretend it's "giving" that works for you. It may, but we all have little moments we remember where we felt at ease. Remind yourself of these moments and maybe even sing a little song!

Oh yeah, and I also definitely love whiskers on kittens!

Have a great weekend kids, Naked with Chanel No: 5

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Naked with Chanel No 5: Day 27: Quick Review on Bad Girl Behavior

A guide to Bad Girl behavior - On a night when you are all heart broken after you've learned that your ex lover has moved onto someone new or ex husband went on a vacation with another chick or the dude you thought you were dating is out an about with someone else.......follow the following:

Step 1) Call another guy, any guy, even if you don't really like him but generally speaking gives you solid attention. Just call him!

Step 2) Figure out if and how you can get him to take you out for drinks because that will feel a hell of a lot better then how it feels right now.

Step 3) Go into your closet and find the hottest dress you have, pair it with boots or stilettos (depending on the dude's particular taste), shower, curl hair, curl eyelashes, gloss lips, and apply creme brule smelling lotion with a dab of perfume.

Step 3) Enjoy his attention, bask in his flirtation, practice your seductive smile, and maybe drink a little too much.

Step 4) Make out with the dude and grow a little closer to falling for him, even though he knows that there is no future, knows he's a rebound, and won't let himself feel anything, but can tell you are looking for something for the night and is happy to play the role.

Step 5) Wake up. Pretend it didn't matter. Act like you can just be friends until you realize that you got closer than you intended, because well girls are girls, and we attach.

Step 6) Attempt to maintain a friendship. Maybe even make out again once or twice, while secretly hoping he'll fall madly in love with you.

Step 7) Get mad, hurt, sad, when he says he won't.

Step 8) Delete him from your phone after reviewing all flirtatious text messages in which he told you you were gorgeous, amazing, hot etc. He clearly liked you enough to want another round, just not so well as to stick around.

Step 9) Find out a few weeks later he's on vacation with another version of you.

Step 10) Wash, Rinse, Repeat

Probably time to stop this crazy cycle!
Thank god for a better choice - Naked with Chanel No: 5