Friday, July 22, 2011

Working Hard (for the money)


Effort transforms labor into product.



fingers crossed, things will go my way.

Eye to eye, hands held, a moment is shared. A moment of understanding. To level the field that is always unbalanced.

And to sit with friendly ghosts in chairs. The perilous past invading the present.

Tempo Auralities


Time baking in the sun. A Dali painting.

Originality is only believed because it came to my mind as a new idea. Recycled from something else. Mashed up, blended mix of pomo ideas. Diet.

The lo-cal post modernist, pastiche lifestyle.

Trying to find my niche.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Good Vibrations

This week has been so rewarding, surprising, and uplifting with sprinkles of hard work and enchantment. Experiences and conversations, opportunities, questions to be answered, facts to become routines.

Good Vibrations.

Radical Positivity.

I taught my first Theatre class at the Women's shelter two blocks from my house. I was nervous. Who wants to do theatre? Who cares about theatre (especially if you are homeless)? The negative naggings kept popping up. I convinced myself otherwise. The brain is a powerful tool of destruction. 2 people showed up. It was close and intimate, revealing and silly. My actors for the day provided me with much inspiration, insight and clarity. They were so bloody brilliant and creative. And they have no freaking clue. They thought they were being silly. They felt challenged. I wanted to put myself in this situation because I am looking to challenge myself. To give back to my community and learn symbiotically. Theatre is about storytelling, masking and unmasking identities....this was the perfect foray into a new creative experience. I will be working with them every Friday evening and I couldn't be more thrilled.

I am always thinking of how I can challenge myself and how can I learn with and through my community: I think I found my answer.

Saturday, July 2, 2011


Home is not a place, or a location but a series of feelings. An intricate binding of thoughts from the present, the past, and the desired future. Home is a place of comfort, of nostalgia, of pain and pleasure permeating the mundane.

Where is my home? Can one feel like they are from somewhere they are not? Home is the placement of memories on the canvas of my body, the conversations that appear in past lives, only to be remembered in subconscious dreams.

Home is not a place, but a desire. A desire to be accepted, to feel wanted, to feel loved. Home is neither here nor there, but everywhere I have laid my head to rest and found joy and love.

Home is a work in progress.

Home alludes the present tense.

My home, my heart, is scattered--from the west, to the east, to the south to the far north. Friendly cities and intellectual continents, fading and surpassing, waxing and waning just like the moon above.

Home is the desire to belong.