Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius, and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring. - Marilyn

Tuesday, March 30, 2021


Them: Don’t burn bridges. 

Me: I’ll blow a muthafuckin bridge up. And the flames will light the way...

I deal with more let downs than I can count on one hundred and fifty hands. Lifetimes of let downs - as a creative, as a dreamer. As person. And yes, I’ve become more and more vocal because of it. And that’s pretty damn vocal considering I was born vocal. But, because I was silenced as a child (told to “shut the fuck up” every time I used my voice to speak my mind) my voice as a woman, is well, really loud. This doesn’t mean I’m screaming at everyone. It just means I’m not afraid to be myself and speak my mind. I’ll say the things most people will only think to themselves and I have no shame. For anyone who thinks I’m inferior to them be it personal or in my career fields (also personal), my torch is lit. I am important. I am inferior to no one. And neither are you. And yes, this spawns from a recent let down. 

Though, the smoke has cleared. 💅🏽

And the funny thing is, it’s been the really famous people, Oscar winners and shit, who have been the most humble and friendly toward me with regard to my work as a writer and just as a human being. 

Not Influencers. Not D listers. Not people who compete with me. 

MEGA SUPER STARS have been the kindest to me and I believe they got to where they are because they’re real. They’re humble. I told Charlize Theron what a phenomenal actor I think she is and she blushed. Little ol’ me made Charlize Theron blush. 

I felt important. I think we should always make people feel important. We all start as nobody’s before we’re somebody’s. But if we can always make people feel like somebody, we’ll never think we’re nobody. 

Keep it real and be your own kind of super star. ⭐️

Saturday, June 22, 2019

my own hero

I just realized I've been away for over a year, and for nearly a year I've been back in Los and working harder than I've ever worked in my wildest days. I wrote a tv show about my life ... and some big things are happening right now. 

I just wanted to share something very personal... about myself. Per usual, but this time I'm taking you and myself back to where it all began - to the day I died so that the hero in me... could be conceived

I went to 17 schools as a kid, and that’s not counting community college. I failed the first grade because I was unable to focus past the gnarly curveballs that life had already started throwing at me. I sat alone at the lunch table in 5th grade every single day while resisting a strong urge to cry just long enough to get home, where I could sob in the privacy of my own bedroom, where I spent most of my time writing to escape the loneliness that was my actual life. In 9th grade, I sat outside with a paraplegic girl named Bianca. She was my only friend at lunch. In my senior year, I either sat with foreign exchange students during lunch, because I thought they were the only interesting people in school, or I sat in my car. Sometimes I just drove off. I was never the popular girl. I was the very unpopular girl who only a few (super rad) people acknowledged, in twelve years. 

I basically had no one because I was so transient. My life was unstable from the day I was born, and in a way, I felt like I was born over and over again because big parts of me were dying - the parts of me that needed validation, approval, attention, recognition... a mother, a father. What I didn’t know then, is that I was actually becoming my own (unsung) hero. I was looking up to... myself. I didn’t even realize it at the time but... I was all I had... and for that, I wouldn’t change a thing. My dream was born because parts of me died. 

I am my own hero. Hopefully you are yours. 💛

Tuesday, June 19, 2018

a wonderful kind of nothing

This is a meme I came across recently, which for a brief moment flung me into a state of total euphoric peace, which feels a lot like... nothing actually, even after being "flung", and I have to be flung into peace. No joke. Could partially be the Gemini in me, but I need more than a gentle push or a light shove, or a mediation video, or a great chill your tits book or a meme. I need fulfillment. Peace is the end goal and as screwy as that might sound (in my own head) it sounds more honest than claiming it to be any other way - to be content, settled. I'm not. I never have been. I wouldn't be an artist if I was. But, I feel like we're taught or we're wired to think we have to be all these things and we have to do it with a sense of urgency and obligation. On the daily too, especially when things get hard. Calm down. Someone says to me. Relax. No. I'd rather write. Or paint... create something, anything. Art needs chaos, not a nap. Not contentment. I wrote my best songs when I was sad. I wrote my best stories when I was broken. Still do...

All my life, all I've ever wanted is success in the utmost extraordinary, creative ways - ways I have yet to fully inhibit or even discover. To be at peace would contradict the process of elimination that I wield daily in this monotonous, yet stimulating evolution I call understanding who and what I am not. It's the only way I'll ever know who and what I am. I'm still learning. I've got a hundred years, if I'm super lucky. What's the rush, right?

Or, maybe there is a rush... something rushing through me. I do know I have nothing to lose and that I must of swallowed my pride in a past life. It has it's pros and cons.

But back to that quote and the "euphoric peace" I was flung into like a maniac. I felt a wonderful kind of nothing... if there is such a thing, which I think there is because nothing is something. And...

"Trust me, I' know what I'm doing" says the one and only universe. Or is it? It's a very powerful and yet very forgettable quote. I tapped that heart. But there's just so many posts and so little time, so maybe that "euphoric peace" I felt was really just me getting it... for once, for twice, for the millionth time. Remembering it. Trusting it. Believing it. Then forgetting it because I logged off Instagram and started worrying about everything. #forgettable Because most things are until you come across that something that isn't. It resonates. It stays with you. It's usually not a meme either. It's not a quote. It's not a video. It's something else... it's someone... like myself.

And it's coincidental.

Then I remember: The universe knows what she's doing. Yes, she's a she because she's brilliant and puzzling and strange and unclear and mysterious and cryptic and vocal and silent. So many things I've asked for, yet so little retort. Unanswered prayers. Unanswered everything. And yet, she know's what she's doing. She has a mind of her own. And I can't read it. I've tried. The wonderful kind of nothing she gives you when you want it is... spell bounding. Breath taking. She makes you work... for your dreams... for your truth... for your purpose... for your freedom... for your sanity until you question it. Totally and completely. She'll make you question everything. Then she'll cleverly guide you to your someone who will question everything with you. And love you...  And that wonderful kind of nothing, becomes... something.

Then everything.

Wednesday, August 30, 2017

Mother Nature

I just realized I've been away for several months. I'm producing a short film here in Denver, so I've been a bit distracted but in the most wonderful way. But, today I felt the urge to hop on here and say something. I vicariously live through a character in a series I'm writing right now. Her name is Jade and she's me. She's who I used to be and who I want to be. The only difference, she's won an Academy Award and I have not. So, you can only imagine how much I admire Jade. ;)

Any who. A lot of thoughts and chatter stir my mental soup these days, especially as a screenwriter. Everything I hear, everything I say... it can all be used differently. I can use it as great dialogue. Fearlessly. The conversations I have with myself and with other people are what inspire me the most and this is the beauty of character writing. It's truly a wonderful exercise for releasing - to vent through someone else, someone you invented, someone you didn't invent rather you just changed their name. My God! What a brilliant concept! Everyone should write at least one screenplay before they die. Seriously. Do it. Its' mega therapy.

But, getting more on topic...What I wanted to discuss is this: A tragic storm by the name of Harvie, also my Beta fish's name, just blew through Houston, which is my hometown. And another colossal storm just blew through India. These places are underwater and people need help, our help, any help. It's heart-rending, it's scary... and it's loud. It's very loud. What does that mean exactly? It's loud? It means I think this planet has spiraled out of control and Mother nature is angry, and God bless those who have fallen victim to her fury. I think we need to take a serious moment to reflect on this and dig deeper int our hearts and minds. There's an undisclosed meaning in the wake of just about everything, if you really think about it. Something always equals something bigger, even if it's tiny. The small things add up and become the big things. Yada yada.

I think what Mother Nature is trying to say is this, and I will do my best to channel what I think would be her voice... if she could speak using the English language:

I'm angry because this world is insane. The Earth is on fire, and though we do need that light and that flame to carry us and show us the way, we're burning everything down to the fucking ground. We're burning each other down (aka) bringing each other down and we're destroying the earth, each other, our animals, our children, our beliefs, our values, our rights and I could go on and on... Ashes to ashes, but ashes can't be used to light the spark that sets our hearts on fire, and we need that fire. It's a paradox, but so is the truth. We need the heat and we need the light in order to tread an honest path, but we can't just burn everything down to the ground. We can't just launch nuclear missiles, ban people who are different, hate people, hurt people, kill people. We've taken our fire and burned all the bridges that connect us to... each other. We do this by judging, blaming, disparaging, loathing, killing... We have angry world leaders and a human species beyond recognition due to an evil force so vile it can hardly be reckoned with. It must stop. -Mother Nature 

The world is quite gross when you think about it. Actually you don't even have to think about. All you've have to do is scroll through Facebook and Instagram feeds. You'll see it even if you didn't want to see it. You'll see some animal being tortured, a starving child, a poacher. You'll see it all and you'll probably cry or cringe, or just feel like shit for twenty minutes because the Earth is burning to the ground and money makes it go around. Insert Jewel song:

People living their lives for you on t.v.
They say they're better than you and you agree
He says "Hold my calls from behind those cold brick walls"
Says "Come here boys, there ain't nothing for free
Another doctor's bill, a lawyer's bill
Another cute cheap thrill 
You know you love him if you put him in your will 
But, who will save you soul... 

It won't be Mother Nature because she's pissed. All the chaos in this world -- the hustlers, the liars, the thieves, the killers. She's lost her mind too, and her roaring weather can't be tamed. But like you and me, she can be happier and we can help make the world a better place. We can serve our Mother Nature rather than infuriate her by lighting our own torch and helping others to find their way. In a universe built upon dirt and ash, we can still light our own match and we can use our own light to guide ourselves back onto a path of love and simple, human decency.

Because Mother Nature has once again poured her ocean of hurt over cities that are now in need of ample love and support. She's a collective force pleading with us. Begging us. Asking us to love each other, especially now. It's as if she's forcing us to. How interesting. I do believe this is God's world, not ours. I am not without a God, thank God. I do believe He is the father who art in Heaven, whatever that is, and she is the Mother who art here on Earth... with us. So, let's stop pissing her off.

Lets make love make the world go round.

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

who you are

Change is real but it doesn't have to mean you change who you are. It means you change.. the way you are. And the way you are is the way you've become. What's the difference?

There's a big difference.

Who you are is who you were born to be. It's your animus - your dispositions and intentions. It's your spirit-self. The one that says: hey, be an artist! Or hey, go save lives in the Middle East! Or hey go do some scary shit that will make your journey so breath taking you won't know where you began. And all that changes with time because change is real and being a glorified soul whether you paint or save lives can be a real struggle, and a lot of people don't survive the fray of being duty bound in constant creation mode. Because to be a prodigy is to be a survivor of your own fear and doubts and those inflicted. Ergo, we adjust our perspectives thus changing our dispositions and intentions - our views. I don't want to save the world, we tell ourselves. My art doesn't matter. Nobody cares. Blah blah blah. Our policies and standards all change, with time. Some for the better, some for the worse. Some for the worse and hardly ever for the better. Cue the alcoholism and/or drugs, or depression, or pure mediocrity and a lack of inspiration. Boredom.

But even that doesn't change who you are because who you are is who you will always be. Minus the booze. Minus a revolving door that closes more often then it opens. Minus our views and standards. Minus the boredom and the mundane. You've got to subtract the shit that makes you who you think you are first. Like your car for instance. Or your bank account. You might think it makes you who you are, but those things do not define you.

The way you are is the way you react to people who cut you off while you drive your nice car, or your old ugly car. It's who you are at events. It's the way you react when faced with circumstances, confrontations, hardships etc.... It's the way you carry yourself and speak to an audience. It's the way you are when relaxed, or when you refuse to relax. It's the way you work or don't work. It's the way you think and over think, and then think some more, and then some more. And all of that... can change. Because it's not who you are.

When I was young, my mother would lecture me in parking lots and on sidewalks. Anne-Marie. Why do you walk with your head down? She would ask me in a tone I didn't prefer. I would stare at the ground when I walked. I had no confidence and well, my mother was.... impetuously brash. Still is. But was it the way I was born? No. It was the way I became. It's the way I started to think.

No child of mine walks with their head down. Lift your head up. Pull your shoulders back. Be confident.  She would say... on every sidewalk. At every dance rehearsal. It wasn't who I was. I wasn't confident. I was broken. Too much divorce and instability will do that to a child. Confident is what I became, but it took time. After another handful of years surviving my mother's life, I started surviving my own and I did it with confidence. But I don't just survive. I enjoy life too. And that's who I am. 

It's not the way I am though. My ways can be quite reckless. But I'm working on changing that to better myself. Because the way I am is OCD as fuck, schedule bound, restless, always in need of creating something, fitness fitness fitness, being something, thinking I'm not anything.... migraines, stressed, happy and excited. Up then down. That's the way I am. It's not who I am.

I am quite grateful for my mother's sidewalk sermons, now relics. Confidence is a keepsake and it's the reason I even bother being an artist, because without faith in one's self, an artist is nothing more than a crazy person. It's harsh but true. Artists are tortured, in a beautiful way. And I'll admit... I have my crazy person days - those days when I can't get my heart out of my head, and those two fight like a couple on the verge of a nasty ass divorce. My heart and my head rarely get along much less work well together. Why? Because the head (aka) the mind is a thought machine and the heart is not a machine at all. Rather, the heart is ethereal - self sacrificing, dream aligned. Not afraid. And that is who we are and nothing can change that unless, well, you think it can. The key to being who you really are and not who you think you are is knowing how to control your mind, because when you don't how to do that, it does in fact get out of control...and waaaaay out of control. And guess what? You turn into a crazy person! And you didn't even need a paint brush to do it either.

You see, the way you are is a perspective. It's all in your mind. It's who you think you are. It's how you think you should respond because it's the way you're hard wired and conditioned. You are the way you are because you learned how to be that way. But who you are isn't learned.

It's understood.

Who you are is who you'll always be and who you've always been. It's who you know you are, it's not who you think you are. It's not what mom told you to be, or what dad told you not to be.

It's freedom... from all of those things. Who you are is... free, and that's sacred. This life is sacred because we have no clue when it ends or why it even began. We didn't ask to be here but we are here, just trying to be who we think we should be.

So, whether you've got confidence or not, remember your freedom. You can be totally, utterly and completely free from who you think you should be and, instead.... just be who you are.

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

monster mind

I called you a monster this morning and I meant it. So go home monster because you're in my head. You're in my words. You're in my prayers. My pillow turns to stone when you don't leave me alone.

Today I felt like something divine joined me in my office as I gave myself some down time to reflect. I was looking at the walls pretending the walls were listening. Maybe they do, listen. If only the walls could talk. The decorative fixtures made my eyes move waywardly. The knick knacks, the green and yellow galore. It makes me smile. Then... a transcendent moment of observing with my eyes closed took presence as though it was standing between me and those decorative walls. It felt like an angel blew her breath across my arms. Goosebumps, but for just a brief moment.

Then my head spins and the spinning is loud like a rusty old marry-go-round on a grassy dune, but the grass needs watering. She spins with the wind, not with a child because she's old and won't be bothered. But she's not old enough. A child's freedom could be a good thing for her nuts and bolts. Make her remember, oh youthful spirit, how to be free the way you are and how to run the way you run. Because a child doesn't run... away. A child runs a different way.

A sudden breeze inside my head and she squeals. I get a migraine. When she stops twisting in circles making me dizzy again, she runs like a rabbit -- hopping but not too high. Only high enough to irrupt like a volcano. Down pours the obsidian -- the hot lava my temper perspires. She's a bunny. She's a volcano. She's whatever I want her to be. My mind is my inception, an opening.

She's my birth. I can react and die a little or I can react and live a little more...

She often recoils inciting a marathon and I have to run for miles and miles. Chasing her for days. For years. That crazy rabbit. She won't stop running away. And by the way... Tricks are for kids! But are they though? I'm tricked more than I ever was as a child, running in a mental and emotional contest. Hopping, jumping. This way that way. Not sure about the future. I get tired. Fortunately her shoes are neon colored, making her easy to catch in the dark. And when I don't catch her I wonder who I am. When my own mind has forsaken me in her neon colored shoes, who do I become?

I become who I really am.

So, then what stands between us? A prayer. A plead. Please Monster... go home! She's a rabbit. She's a volcano. She's a runner in neon shoes. She's a monster.  Without my monster marbles and reasoning - my wits, thoughts and confusion, I'm unfamiliar... and it's really quiet. And it's a beautiful thing. And I didn't even have to pay someone. But, I'm used to her song. I'm a musician. I'm used to the music. But her orchestra is confused. She's dazed but marvelous. Her symphony is perfect for something dramatic. So, please Monster... go dance! Go sing. Go heal.

Because music is not music without the dance.

Just let it go in those neon shoes. Go waltz amongst the ash that your volcanic temper gave life to. You give life to death. Ashes to ashes. Hop away from me now because without you I'm free. Without you I'm still. I'm still waiting for you to return to me. When I send you home I'm peaceful. But I still need you. So please monster. Go home! Come back when you're older. Return to me when I'm younger. Because if we're going to do this thing together... we need to do it better. Forever.

Wednesday, December 28, 2016


If you could go back in time, however long ago - maybe you want to be three again and debt free, mom and dad still together, or maybe you want to be twenty four again so you can dodge that awful romance, the one that stole your faith in love, would you? Would you change everything if you could? Maybe just one thing. Maybe you wished you could go back fifteen years ago just so you could stop yourself from making that decision that flipped your life upside down - turned you inside out with your heart bleeding all over your shirt. Or maybe it was a decision that birthed the boredom that is... your life. Life can be quite boring - adventure less, mundane. And we only have ourselves to blame. That doesn't make you a victim though. It just makes you aware.

Your life is your creation. That doesn't void God. I believe God is extremely real, but you are the reason for your cans and cants, your yes's and no's. God is the outcome. You can react however you chose to the God-outcome, but if resentment, anger, and/or boredom are any of your emotional reflex's, then I can assure you God is not the reason. I've learned to stop blaming God for my downfalls. God doesn't punish. Though contrary to many religious suspicions, he doesn't. God is love, not punishment and surely not hate.

It's our life that teaches us how not to hate and how to love. Like God. So, if you were to wake up twenty years ago what would you change? What would you do differently in order to love yourself differently - to love yourself more. Other then change your mood of course, because I'm sure a slight to severe panic would occur if you were to actually wake up twenty years younger and know it. Wait a hot sec... I'm forty, so why am I twenty??! Sounds like a movie to me.

But, lets just say it happened. We're not watching a movie. You've actually been given a second chance at doing things a little differently, or profoundly differently on that note. Do you go that job you went to twenty years ago, talk to that person you talked to twenty years ago? The one you met in a cooking class or whatever class. Maybe you met in line at a Starbucks. Do you go to that Starbucks, knowing he or she will be there? FYI. This is the person you fell madly in love with, the one you maybe married and divorced in a heart beat. The one that destroyed your assets, your confidence and your family. Maybe you worked with this person at that job you hated. Maybe you're still in love with this person, married happily ever after. I don't know. It's your past.

So, do you get up and go to work or do you sleep in and say fuck it! That job ruined me. It held me back from doing the things I really wanted to do. I met that asshole at that job and that asshole broke my heart, took my kids. Or that asshole wasn't an asshole at all, maybe that asshole is your sweetheart today. Twenty years and counting. Maybe that job that ruined your life because it was so freaking boring only happened so you'd meet the love of your life. Would you still sleep in and say fuck that boring job, if you could go back and do things differently?

Maybe you blow off the job and surprise the love of your life at their favorite bar or at their home instead, because you already know where they like to drink and where they live because you've already lived these years. But how do you explain the unexplainable to the love of your life. Who's to say they're on a blast to the past. This is your sacred experience - your chance at changing everything, not theirs. So, he or she doesn't know you yet.  Trippy right? So, what do you do? How do you explain to your love that you already know what happens? Because it's already happened. The eventual divorce. The kids. The inability to have kids. The pain. Maybe the death. The love.

The life.

So, maybe you do get out of bed and go to that job you hate to meet the one you loved and divorced to have those kids you had, or didn't have - to have that partnership you maybe still have today with your soul mate, your best friend. Maybe you stand in line at that Starbucks knowing you'll meet them there and have your first, unexpected coffee date. You'll laugh together and plan a second date, but to a movie this time and your favorite sushi joint. It's the one date you never forgot about. Maybe you attend that class, the one where you met that person you loved and maybe still love. And maybe, if given the chance to go back in time, you'd do it all over again.... but just the same. Maybe you wouldn't change anything at all. Not even your biggest "mistakes", your deepest heartbreaks.

Because it was perfect the way it was. It made you.... you. And that's the best thing that ever happened.

Sat Nam.