For the last two days I have had a handful of gummy bears and coffee for breakfast.  I need to go grocery shopping before this becomes a habit.

I have also decided that watching episodes of Law and Order: SVU is now forbidden.  It triggers too much, but I want to be like the women on that show. Forever alone with a formidable career.

Ke$ha is now my only official family. #yeahthathappened

A letter for you. A letter for you.

Today I wish that I could write a letter to everyone I care deeply about.  Whenever I sit to write a letter I go through an initial uncomfortable phase.  Then I turn some sappy music on, put one ear bud in, and just start typing.  Nothing is in complete sentences.  Most times I don't even record the entire thought, but I go through one emotion at a time.  This is not to say that I am done with that emotion.  I explore it until it is finished then it flows into another emotion, maybe to pop its emotional strength back at a later time in the later.

That is what makes letter writing so raw for me.  It never captures everything and rarely even encompasses all I had to communicate.  Yet, the natural shift through emotions that I feel when I am writing and what comes out in the written product makes the process worthwhile. In the past I have started writing a letter being angry, and by the time I was finished feeling disappointment, or starting off sad and ending up thankful.

Written word forces you to think through and explore yourself. When words are written, I don't want them to be empty, so very few are disposable.

The rule of the week: I am not allowed to listen to anything but Ke$ha. Strictly confined.

Be Bold. Live Bold.

Writing stories into reality.

Making reality the best story that you could ever tell.

The nights you spend standing in the open sunroof of your friend's car. Arms out welcoming any energy floating around in the universe.

Monday through Thursday I spent in Tulsa, OK working on national policy. I trained on the NYTD survey, caught up with old friends, and explored the city in a new way. The trip was a fresh perspective on I place that I thought I knew. A fresh perspective on myself. Fresh, because it was new but revisiting and stood me in front of a mirror that I have never seen.

I've never been so emotionally free or untied to an expectation of connection.

Your Little Red Hammer

If I were to write a letter to you.. this is what I would say:

Dear Little Brother,

Your heroin addiction isn't fair. It took you before I knew you.

I know you are lying, and trying to use my kindness.  After everything, I don't have the energy to fight with you and call you out.  You can think you are fooling me, and that is perfectly okay with me.

I'm angry with you, and disappointed that you let our family's past consume you.  Please stop making excuses.  You can't erase your criminal record now.  You will be in prison for life. Own that. Know you could have made a difference and there were people willing to help, but no one more able than yourself. And honestly, sometimes I wish you died when you ODed, because then I wouldn't have to see you where you are.  Trying to use everyone and everything for your addiction.  It's like my heart breaks over and over and over again, instead of just once.

No one will ever look like me, like you do.  You are my closest blood. A photo on my desk, a memory of red hammers and blond hair. But I don't know you. I love you, but you're empty and your memory is warped.

I love you, but I can't ever forgive you....

Sacramento, my love.

The most redeeming aspect of Sacramento is the sunset.  As the sun goes down the sky starts to burn with color. As I drive home, I look out how the colors line the railroad and the outline of barren trees.  On Tuesdays I usually catch the train passing through.  I know that the colors are a direct result of the level of pollution.  They serve as an indication of the working class city that Sacramento is and has been in the past.

Its like your heart is on fire.

And you can't ignore it.

Cities and geographic locations have captured more heartfelt confessions from me than anything or anyone else.

Thanks Pandora.

Not entirely sure if listening to my Spill Canvas Pandora station is adding to reminisicing over the past. Wow, and then there is that moment when you read over the last sentence you wrote, look at the date, and realize why.

Hoping that I get over this fever and shakes soon so I can go outside and do some great things for my personal wellness. I haven't had a lot of weekends off, so this is one of the first whole weekends I will have to myself for the next couple of months.  In fact, it will be St. Patty's Day.  Finally, I will have a housewarming (or apartment warming) and a joint Irish jig.

Birthdays are special. Here goes another year...

Mind Maps

I haven't written in a long while, so forgive me if this stems from a seemingly endless stream of consciousness. When things happen in rapid secession I tend to think in sentence fragments.  This may be why I found myself driving on the opposite side of the road this morning, or I started to just eat food that was placed in front of me without even bothering to look at what it was. Gluten fail...

People ask about South Africa. I go back to work. Massive projects. Configuring a calendar based off of email. More work. Friends, I miss you. Class. Social Entrepreneurship. Leadership. Date. Bowling. Family. Meetings. Driving on the wrong side of road. Phone calls. Walmart.

I wish that I had a wall that I could draw idea bubbles on, I would love to connect them and on the lines  write sentences or key words about how they are connected.  As a visual person, I like to connect the image concepts with words. Its like a massive web that I am constantly weaving and re-weaving in order for them to work. 

Could I blog with a mind map?  Would that work?