to me

So my first birthday, in this new place I call home, has already come and gone (last weekend.) I really wasn't sure how it was going to present itself, but took it for what it was and made the best of it in my own way.

I did a lot of reflecting, as I've developed a bit of a ritual, where I take myself out to write (or draw) for the sake of the emotional release which it provides. Relying on myself for this sort of enlightenment is rewarding and I highly recommend it to anyone for the sake of catching up with yourself. I can't believe where I am these days.

On the topic of reflection, I got myself a little something on my special day, to celebrate where I am and to add another little personal touch to my place. It seemed rather perfect for my new wall color, which I put up in my hallway recently; where the sunlight beams at its brightest, from my bathroom and studio. It's all coming together, and I am loving every minute.

What a gift to find so much to be happy for.


lol moms

I once wrote a poem, for my mom, which started with the words 'My mom she isn't normal, but she's not a total reject.." It carries on into a ten paragraph sonnet, which my mom has partially memorized. I didn't think it was a big deal but, I'm pretty sure she's going to steal my rhymes and start up a rap band of sorts. That's what moms do.. right?

Of course my mom knows that I love her because she told me I have to but, there are times where I feel she needs to be reminded. I think this is one of those weird mom things where they constantly question if they've done a good job in parenting. I suppose the examples which my sister and I have amounted to are a sure sign that my mom did a terrible job. Way to go Joanne...Sarcasm doesn't really present itself well in writing. This is also my indirect way of saying that she has nothing to worry about. I'm breathing.

One of the greatest lessons my mom taught me, and will always take with me no matter where I am, is that laughter is a far better high than meth. No Mom, I'm not smoking the meth. Anyway, this is getting weird so I'm going to end with some fresh new beats for my mom's poetry collection:

Your face makes me laugh 
in that nostalgic "I remember" you way. 
You'll always be my mom 
... and there go the waterworks

Get that Kleenex. Love you, Mom.