So fresh and so clean, clean

Feb 22

Lists are both the easy way out, and the honest way in. So let’s recap the last 12 months, shall we?

  • Celebrated my twins’ 4-year birthday (they’re still alive and thriving in tenacious form)
  • Completed year-1 of Global Marketing Manager domination
  • Traveled around the globe
  • Mourned the loss of a cousin, to suicide
  • And an aunt, to violent homicide
  • Hired people
  • Mentored people
  • Loved people
  • Bent, broke and snapped in all ways possible (but using a metaphor, they do say that when new bones grow, they’re often stronger than the old ones. Verdict is still out)
  • Perfected the gin and tonic
  • Got really uncomfortable with new people by choice, laying foundation for creative magic
  • Practiced the art of delegation (still learning)
  • Earned a majestic rheumatoid diagnosis that is typically reserved for people of turkish or asian decent (breaking molds is basically my craft)
  • Sculpted some crazy abs, while eating tortilla chips and cheese daily (own it)
  • Turned off the little icon on my iPhone email app that shows me how many unread emails I have – life changing, I tell you
  • Moved my home office into the basement, which was the best idea ever once I solved some obsessive lighting issues
  • Got over the idea of perfection, only mildly

It’s uncanny, when you turn the music on after it’s been off for so long. Bombs away.











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Thoughts echo loudly when confined to a skull

Dec 27

The noise is so loud. Everything and nothing is so terribly loud right now. But this sentiment like most others this year, is one giant excuse. No matter which way you cut it – whether embracing the noise, contributing to it or making better silence, change is paramount to progress.

Let’s get real. Let’s get raw. Words have always been my bullets and I’m locked and loaded. Let’s paint. We may never recover from this intoxicating trip, but wouldn’t that be the most beautiful and desirable of all possible outcomes?

The time has come the walrus said, to take some goddamn risk.

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And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.

Dec 02

I want to be the poet that lives inside your pocket, witty and ready to spring into action but in the most natural of ways. The comfort of the next rung on your ladder, which you reach for instinctively and almost blindly – yet with the most natural and instant sense of quiet gratitude once I’ve helped you lift yourself wherever you want to be.

Au natural on a tired Tuesday night.

Au natural on a tired Tuesday night.

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It is both a blessing and a curse.

Nov 19

I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night. And yet I find myself shivering in the bone splintering cold. This is it. This is all we get. For me, life has always been a theatrical event even when I’ve wanted to be, or have been, in the darkest of audience shadows. A play between loving and living, bathed in a non-stop light show fueled by self imposed aspirations for some magical balance. It’s a nonstop light show because the balance doesn’t exist. It never did and it never will – not the way we have crafted it in our pictures and our minds. And all the while, this ridiculously loud light beams down on a 24/7 circus, begging the performance go on…go on.

After so long, and it isn’t very long…the stench of burning plastic and metal starts to permeate the space we’ve chosen to host our amazing spectacle of a show. It starts to stink, the air gets a little hazy, and the crowd stops buying tickets. Sometimes, that crowd which feels so vast is really just an audience of one. It’s an audience of one and the plastic is burning off of your lights. You can’t put makeup or electrical tape on this one.

It’s you. It’s yourself. Playing out these parts as love and living compete for the spotlight while refusing to compromise…refusing to even take intermissions. And everything goes black.

You sit there in a hazy confusion, wondering why or how on earth things seem to have slammed so hard and so fast into the wall. How you let the lights burn through themselves, when it feels like just yesterday you were designing the scaffolding. And for a moment, just after your face hits the rigid brick wall that is IMPERFECTION, you remember just how important it is to bring your own light to the darkness.

This is it. You feel like this is it. But you know the show must go on, and you’ll live to see another day and you’ll do it all over again. “Maybe tomorrow.”

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