trading with a friend

It was just another slow Sunday today but laced in a cool breeze, giving us a much needed break from the humidity. Thank goodness. I don’t have a lot i want to write about, but i felt like writing a short post about a regular day for me — because i don’t usually do that. So — here’s to trying something new ! Currently i’m doing a knitting trade with a good friend of mine. I’m knitting her a sweater with cotton yarn and in exchange i get one or two of her beautiful scarves. I’ve never done anything like this before so i’m pretty excited about the process. (I also get to write a letter and send it snail mail style — which is something i really love to do) Old style mail is like poetry these days. I don’t often use patterns, if at all. I make it all up as i go and see how it turns out. I never make the same thing twice — even if i’m trying to knit a pair of socks, fucking bastard socks. I get heated just thinking about having to knit two of something it SUCKS.

My day pretty much consisted of your regular dreading of Monday morning, eating bacon, jerky and hyping myself up for a new big challenge. As most of you can probably tell i suffer from a pretty crippling mindset of self hatred and body dysmorphia —  lace all that bullhickey in with deadening depression and you have the wonderfully witty  genius you see before you.  The funniest kid any side of the Mississipi. Artists and comedians suffer greatly for their craft; and fuck i’ve suffered like a son of a bitch. That’s right folks, not even i am at all perfect as social media might portray. I am in fact flawed like an old piss sodden boot with a hole in the toe, and i wouldn’t change much about it. Perfection is terribly over rated.
Anyway, my point is that i’m working on changing my cognitive thinking. Don’t get me wrong, i love a bit of depression here and there because its how i write the way i do.
I can write some beautifully haunting scenarios like no other, terrible stories and cruel characters, that though they may not be entirely good — they’ll be remembered; but its time  for me to change a little too. I’m smart enough to realise that. Because if you’re not working on yourself, where are you going and how can you grow? Also, i can’t expect my characters to change — if i don’t.


I’ve been working out on a consistent basis for over a year now and attempting (and failing), to change my eating habits. DING DING. But thats the next goal. To stop eating what i know fuels my depression like fuel on a fire pit. And its only a habit that needs breaking, because i don’t enjoy when i eat those foods — but i do it out of the comforting habit drowning in sugar like babies suckling tit milk.
Today isn’t really the first day of me working on this, by no means but today is yet another day where i’ll start the intermittent fasting and try a new method of thinking of food by not canceling out everything i love, but changing how much and when i have it. Good luck to me, after all… if you don’t like something change it.

Fear not! My blog is not becoming a fitness blog full of air filled muscles, booty photos and starved selfies. No ma’am. But fitness has become a bigger part of my life this year and i’m loving it because i can physically and mentally feel the changes. If i’m sad about something, i’ll take a run, a walk or get under the weights. Recently i’ve been pretty low because i’ve been homesick after watching particular television shows, another terrible trigger that can send me in to a cave macabre thoughts for weeks. Homesickness is a cruelty i would only wish on about 30 people that i believe deserve to feel something other than falsely placed superiority.


And thats all my Sunday consisted of. Settling things in my mind and figuring out the next step. Here’s to new horizons, opportunities and futures looming. Tell me about your Sunday and something you’d like to change.

Happy Sunday Night and have a grand following week.

Also — if you’re interested in the knitting my friend does here is a link to her facebook page here.

 

born of stones

Born of stones, and by that I mean I’m a tough kid, tougher than most I’ll wager. The days are trailing on and the heart of the west is beating at a pace I can’t catch up with. Like a door that moves further away the harder you try to grasp it. The sweet west where the wind is bitter, the sun is a son of a bitch and every day is a gift. Today is the second of July. My birthday has gone and passed as it does every year and I’m another wrinkle richer; another year bolder. The sun has slept and the moon risen — as they do every day. The eaves weeping. I’m supposed to be working but instead I’m bleeding at my keyboard counting the hours till I can go home. Lately I’ve been entirely engrossed in my writing. When I’m not writing — I’m thinking about writing or dreaming up something macabre from a memory, lacing characters with a realistic mean streak and a fat lip. My mind is so full of ideas and dreams and an honest wonder at how to achieve them all when time runs so damn fast. But its running in the right direction. With me loping behind grabbing whatever the stagecoach of time leaves behind.

So far summer in the granite state has proven fruitful with warm afternoons and lapping lakes, bee’s bugging the shit out of everybody and groundhogs dead as dickens doornails by the side of the road. Instead of blogging and losing hours a day to Instagram – I’ve been meddling in photography, cinema trips and enjoying the last of what the northern states can offer us as we ready ourselves for new adventures and new horizons wherever they may lay. And as I said previously, writing and writing and writing. I’m becoming more aware of how ready I am to let me people read the work that I’ve kept so close to my chest all these long years. My secrets. The dark. And the characters peppered like stars cut out from an old curtain finally seeing the light of day.
And as my darling mother tells me; let them read it.
The day will come, to be sure, that I’ll let you read the chapters I’ve ached and wept over for the past few years, the many characters that came from the cruelty and the broken hearts born from death.
You’ll know them all when the time has come.

Soon there will be some changes to my blog, just like my Instagram of abandon and I can safely say that I appreciate those of you who are still reading and following; even after my constant disappearances and ramblings. But here’s to the future — to you, to me and to us who have struggled.

new horizons

Has it really been five days since i wrote my last post?
Sheesh — well as you might know from my Insta-stories i’ve been really sick, and Jack too. Thankfully we’re almost back to normal and i’ve managed to catch up on my knitting. Finally the first sweater is finished and ready to be posted on etsy once i get some pictures of it. I love making things and being creative but realistically i can’t wear everything i make because that would be insane. I don’t like having a lot of belongings and clothes. I’m always trying to donate what i don’t use or need. Anyway i figured posting some things to sell on Etsy and getting a bit of extra money here and there would be a fun venture. I tried using the platform before, as some of you may recall, and sold a few items but i’ll try my luck again now that i have a bit more of an idea what i’m doing and i have more confidence in what i’m making. I’ll only be making Sweaters, socks + the occasional scarf when i fancy. I think it’ll be interesting to see how it turns out.
Anyway, i just wanted to update you all and let you know i’m still keeping on. I’m planning on making a youtube video pretty soon — not sure if its a vlog or what, but i have it in my brain i just need that last little push. 

Happy Monday !

I just purchased some new tags for my sweaters and i’m in love with the little added detail.
A buffalo pillow i made for our big leather chair.
The first sweater that will be going on my etsy in the next week or two! I’m currently softening it up ready to be worn!
Pimples and sweaters.

a penny for your thoughts #1

We all know how hard it can be in a world where everything seems to be a competition.
Who has the best this, who does that better or who is the funniest.
Allow me to blow your mind here — it doesn’t matter, though i am one of the funniest.
Let’s just have that settled.

Recently i’ve received a lot of messages telling me how brave i was to move, ” i could never do that.” False.
You could, but you probably don’t want to. Thats probably all it is. And thats ok.
It may sound melodramatic, but no place has ever been truly home to me. So i’ve always found it easy to move because i’ve moved to new countries all my life. I spent almost every day of my life wishing i was everywhere but where i was. And that is a huge fault because it means i forget to live in the now. Every one has a different path. Looking back for the last two years its hit me hard how many times i should have been happy with what i had now that i don’t have it anymore. Cliché. No. It’s the honest and harsh reality of living. It’s not an epic adventure filled with childhood dreams and giggles. It’s fucking hard. And devastating. I find myself looking at others and just wishing i could be half as positive — but realistically i know they aren’t necessarily that happy behind the scenes. So let me tell you, and i’m telling myself this too — stop dreaming you were as pretty as her, she ain’t all that. Stop wishing he’d notice you — because if he hasn’t now he obviously doesn’t see the greatness that is YOU.  Just as you are. Stop wishing you were a million miles away because someone else makes a different place looks like a dream. Don’t allow social media to make you think you need to change.
And to myself, most absolutely, stop dreaming that anywhere but here is where living starts.
Sweet girl, it started 26 years ago and it’s about time you figured it out.