Tag Archives: joy

HNBR: Day 2-3

The start of our journey was optimistic and great vibes. The day was brilliant with sunshine. Pine trees for miles. Excellent journey.
I’m on the left, Suey is beaming in the center, Bebop is in the buffalo plaid, and Madam President Jen is glistening. Met for drinks and dessert with the second batch of my fellow Poll Dancers. Earlier we broke bread with Lynda and spent time shopping for our church meeting.
Just south of Cadillac, MI, Bestie doing her best Vanna White.
The black spot on my teeth is a blueberry from the pancakes my loving dad made for us this morning. The grin we share is because we’re almost to the Mighty Mac.
We are driving on the bridge between the Upper and Lower Peninsula of Michigan. The bridge sings a song of descending tones the slower you go. We should nickname this trip “Left Lane Closed.”
We made it! Woot! Yeehaw! $4 to drive that bridge. It’s a tourist trap. 
This is a pasty. It’s a meat pie with potatoes, rutabaga, carrots, and traditional spices. This was a 7 on my scale. This one was dry even with gravy. Jen was not a fan, so…
She got us matching bracelets! Then we had to find her a place to eat.
A woman recommended this place. Jen ordered a cheeseburger 🍔 and Jalapeño poppers. She rated the burger an 8/10. The meat had a really good good flavor which got overpowered by the condiments. The poppers were large and juicy but overpriced. 8/10. Overall a solid 8 on the scale of Jen.
Note they serve POP here, not coke or soda, just POP.

As we were leaving the drive in we needed to moose 🫎

Me moosing
Jen moosing
Together we amoosed ourselves.

As if that were enough! We also trained ourselves. Engine to caboose:

Long before Jen knew me I once spent a week at a school camp where breaking table rules made you have to kiss the moose. 🫎 I was not puckering up.
Bunny ears on the moose because I’m 12.
The whole train
Petting a weird dog
Weirdly petting a dog

The day was dang near perfect for me. 9/10. Jen had a 7/10 day because we rode in the car, got food, and went swimming. I’m either easily pleased or I need to up my expectations! Jen said she was bored today.

Bob’s backyard

Just after shooting this video, a goldfinch joined the party. A red-bellied woodpecker also came to enjoy the offering of black oil seed.

Bob returned home after 6 months of being gone. He’s in such a good mood I had to scrape him off the ceiling with a spatula. My Beastie and I moved everything out of his apartment and back to his house.

Mocha enjoyed a pup cup today with deep passion.

It was all over her face.

In other news, last year I asked to do an art installation in the local park frequented by people who walk, run, stroll, etc. on the paths. The city said no, they don’t allow any kind of signs along that pathway in the park.

I sent them samples of the signs I wanted to place. Like “If you’re here, you’re awesome!” “You’re amazing!” “Keep going, you’ve got this!” “You are loved.” But they still said no. That irritated me enough that I made and gave out over 300 1” buttons that said, “Be L❤️ve”.

Although that sated my thirst for a bit, I wondered if I was thinking too small. Turns out, I was!

As part of the Stewardship drive at my church, anyone who pledged for the year got:

I didn’t have permission to post this person’s picture so I disguised 🥸 them. But the SIGNS!

I designed them with a bit of editing and encouragement from my Bestie (Jen Stark suggested Live Joy) and input from Lóre Stevens (Create). Now, those signs will be all over my city all because I was told No. HA! Each one a stake of rebellion and I’m bursting with joy!

You can order here

Suicidal Hotdog

We went to The Greens for my dear friend Steven’s birthday party.

The we is my friend/client Bob. He was a bit reluctant to go, but he quickly learned that people he’s known forever were in attendance. He and I had pizza, soda, birthday cake, and quite a few laughs.

Steven was absolutely charming as always. I was so glad I got to spend time with him outside of church. I wore the snazzy jacket he made which made people gush, then gasp in disbelief when I told them who made it. I think both of our egos were well stroked.

The reason I mentioned the suicidal hotdog is because of this:

Who thought it was a good idea to make a hotdog beg for you to eat it? Notice his eyebrows. I know it’s a he and probably designed by a man, because:
The weiner is bigger than the bun! Let’s not even talk about the fashionable socks and shoes, okay?
Bob wore the perfect shirt to make this photo happen by pure kismet. It made me giggle something awful. Note the ejaculating mustard bottle in the hotdog’s other hand.
…which entirely makes THIS picture even funnier. What can I say? I have the humor of a 12 year-old boy.
The front of Bob’s shirt also says “Bite Me” which is from a bait shop he went to years ago.

My people were all there. It was delightful fun. The music was quite a mix from several decades. Trivia was to be played later in the evening but Bob and I went back to his house so he could shower and do his evening routine.

I’ve been staying with him since last Thursday morning when Covid hit where he was staying. This has pros and cons, my being here. I miss my solitude, but I love the adventures we’re having. He’s funny, smart (although he commonly talks badly about himself which irritates me), and, like me, has the humor of a 12-year-old. I’m okay with that.

You are so very loved. I am so very loved. Fuck the world’s bullshit. Love is ALWAYS the answer.

Hands of a Creator

“I don’t have the personality to be God.” I stated to nobody in particular. “I just can’t bring myself to allow others to worship their perception of me.”

I have found myself on the top of a pedestal. I’m not really certain when that happened, but when I’ve heard others talk about me, whether to my face or behind my back, I found myself precariously perched on top.

I consider myself a good human, not a good person. A good person isn’t allowed to make mistakes, trash relationships that no longer work, or draw boundaries around what is good for them. A human, on the other hand, is perfektly within their rights to do any, all, or none of those.

I’m embarrassed when people call me an angel. I know how often I roll my eyes or mutter under my breath while I’m doing something for another human who probably can’t do what I can as well. I feel negativity, but I allow it to pass unless it’s harming me or someone I love. I’m emotionally fly by the seat of my pants. I give because I enjoy the feeling I get when I do. But, in spite of that, it’s harder for me to feel joy when doing something for myself (at this time.)

I can’t tell you the last time I laid one of my beloved paintbrushes to a canvas to create. Yes, I’ve been writing which is cathartic in getting my thoughts out, but painting is coloring in the emotions that are overwhelming. It focuses them in a different way than words can. It allows me to express emotions without self-criticism or judgement which I tend to do in words.

When I write, everything has to be in order. Everything has to make sense to myself and for others. Every idea that pops into my head is best written down so I remember what is important to me, what my goals are, and how I’m going to do what makes me happy.

Art, in any of it’s forms, is a way for me to run around emotionally naked. It encourages me to let go of the control I think I need in the written word. With colors, forms, shapes, patterns, etc., I can bring the darkest, the most joyous, the mundane to a life that is visible. It allows me to fight my demons in public without holding onto them any longer. I miss that.

Yet, here I sit typing away as if this is the only way I can be “seen”, when at the beginning of this writing, I talked about the pedestal I’m perched upon. I want to jump off of that pedestal and spread my emotional wings again. The euphoria I feel when I do that is worth it. I’m making time as we speak to allow space for something so crucial to my well being.

I don’t have the personality to be God, but I have the hands of a creator that are longing to spring anew.

Live out loud

Do not wad your spirit up in a crumpled ball to be tucked away or discarded. Spread out your body to relish the wrinkles of wisdom topped off with your star shine luminosity. Smooth back the night to raise the powerful roots that feed your soul with your destiny.

You weren’t meant to shy away from your glory, you were born to glitter wildly, bubble fruitfully, and bloom in magnificence like those before you. There are no boundaries beneath your feet, only your path.

You were meant to be loud; to take up the space stolen from you by those who fear your wealth of experience and wisdom. They use old, crone, bitch, or other words to describe those who embrace their true nature with delighted abandon. Those are words that mean survivor, wise, and assertive. Those words are meant to keep you small, withered, starving for approval. You own their power.

You do not require permission to explode with color, dance joyfully wherever/whenever you please, or to laugh until your eyes leak. You were born for this. I can’t wait to be a wild human with you!

Hurricane Gale

I honestly feel like I am the eye of the hurricane 🌀.

No matter what happens around me, it’s going to be how it is.

I have control, such as it is, over my reactions even with big emotions.

I feel centered and balanced.

I’m shifting with the currents, adjusting my sails, allowing the journey to reveal itself as it comes.

I am calm.

This is my peace.

Deconstruction

At twenty-one I planned to die,

with a beer in one hand while getting high.

Nobody could see me, I didn’t exist

I screamed myself hoarse

while in their midst

Ironically, I didn’t tell

the secrets I had borne in hell

Imploding shrapnel from darkest places

Repulsed by misleading “loving” embraces

As I grew older, I refused my name

Pushing anger towards familial blame

I gave away my power

before it could be taken

If someone actually saw me,

they’d surely be mistaken

I never did because I knew I never could

It didn’t matter the effort

no matter how good.

I believed pain was love

because that’s what I was shown

Throughout my childhood

into the adult-self grown

I was Destructive in the sense that I had to tear down who I thought I was, who I believed myself to be. I had to dismantle the neglect, anger, bitterness, and apathy that were hidden under the guise of Love. Some of the wounds still ran blood. Some of them still had the knife protruding from my body. I walked around a victim, convinced I would cease to exist one day and that event would go unnoticed, under-appreciated, and quickly forgotten.

I was lied to, given gossip about my unworthiness for breakfast. I was taught values: The value of my vagina, the worthlessness of being barren, that I deserved wrath and disdain because, after all, I was the one insane.

I was force fed my inferiority until i vomited the parrot back to those whom despised the thought of me. The people who used every flicker of my light to read and implement my oppression. I allowed it, encouraged it because they lied love in the guise of vulnerability.

Despite all of that, I’ve broken that cycle. I know I am worthy of love. I know I am loved. I know I am kind, compassionate, loving, giving, helpful, wickedly smart, emotionally intelligent, with the sense of humor of a 12-year old boy who relishes bad jokes, fart jokes, dad jokes, irreverent and dark jokes.

I have accomplished more in the last five years because I believe in myself, my power, my skill, my experience, and my North Star; my loving heart. And best of all, I have a cheerleading band of friends who both keep me grounded and celebrate my successes in flights of fancy.

What a fantastic journey I have forged from the ashes of my youth. Nourishing the needs of my soul/spirit has been the best present I’ve ever given to myself. It leaks into the world like a floodlight of hope. Even better than that? I know it’s rightfully mine.

Just Shy

Not a shrinking violet

Or scared to use her voice

Like a maestro with an instrument

She delivered courageous joy

Dire situations didn’t daunt her

A guidon in a hurricane

although the grim did haunt her

Fear forgot her name

Fishing

I entered the Anderson County Fair this with a wood art piece I call “Fishing”. Today I got news!

Fishing

Last year, I entered this piece made of paper and embellishments:

Durga

My confidence is accepting myself.

An Exception

We are taught all our lives that there are norms.

Ways to behave and how to perform

We’re punished if we color outside of the lines

cinching our spirits to fit the confines

removing authenticity, forcing conformity

but we’ve done a disservice in all its enormity

Take exception from those “laws”

Run around naked with all your flaws

Be who you are without any doubts

Experience the joy! Scream and shout!

You’re validly beautiful when you’re true to yourself

You weren’t made to be perfect, stored on a shelf.

You were meant to experience life at full throttle

To demonstrate to others, to be a role model

Life is too precious to indulge what society thinks

Be the exception to the world, not a lip-sync