We are as one…

For days past I’ve been at war on social media. A keyboard warrior of sorts; I have my own agenda, with my own ideologies, on the back of my own values, in balance with my own stories and opinions. I type in a fervor, without unchecked ego. Each key stroke another blow, as I connect the letters to unite the words, to formulate the sentences, to compose the paragraphs. I have laid down my opponents from their imbecilic wake of arrogance, their illicit provocations, and their disillusions of reality in hopes that it penetrates them to the quick of their psyche. I desire their despair as it ever intensifies with each word they scrutinize.


Yet, it is all for not. As we may see images of one another, an icon on a screen, staring silently, or an image thought to convey our personification, with no semblance of personal perception. We may see snippets of conversations, fractions of ideas, blurbs of opinions, and we know not at all..



I will retract my letters, my words, my sentences and my paragraphs…as I will not waste my desire or despair on anonymity. I will not war with those that are not whole in my mind.



Never Alone

                                   Never Alone

Mask or Face?

IMG_2978        Hello:



Which would you prefer?

I wear a mask daily. I wear my mask as soon as I can, as soon as I step out of my safe place. I wear it in my smile, in my tone, I wear it with my clothing, under my make up…I wear my mask with myself at times. The only time I take this mask off, is when I’m within the confines of my secure space, with my children. My skin is raw and open, needing to feel their soft touch, their warm breath, their lips and cheeks. My pores open, feel as though they are enveloping every bit of essence, that may be lifting off their soft child skin. My eyes twinkle, my smile more predominate, my laughter and voice warmer or harsher depending on the circumstances.  Then I catch myself, I see myself in a mirror,  in the reflection of a tv, or in a glass window. I gawk for a moment, unrecognizable. At times I’ll rub my face, or my arm to make sure it’s me. In that moment, I realize, it’s all just a mask. That what ever mask I need, I put it on for that instance. That the mask may be my authenticity. That no matter how far I strip these masks down…there’s no foundation. No base. Am I just a myriad of outside influences that have permeated layer after layer, that my own inner-construct is that of just others past experiences, or are these histories within us all? A constructed base to build upon?  In order to create our own masks?


I see in the sky a fish…he is swimming freely in such a vastness of cerulean.

I see a big tenebrous fish in the sky…he is gaining on our little friend…

That vastness of the blue has become a whole lot smaller.

Swim little fish…SWIM



Gathering something…is it courage?

Dear little fish in a big pond, there's always a shark luring deep down stream.

Dear little fish in the big pond, there’s always a shark luring down deep.


I’m sitting here writing my first blog post. I’m hoping to find some kind of outlet to engage my creative side, to explore past my boundaries, cast my self into the proverbial fire of endless anons sharing any and all experiences with the pounding of keys and the clicking of buttons. I want to rearrange some output that will allow my sense of longing “in the need of expression” to take precedent. I’m writing because, once there was a time when words flowed through me the way ice is carried on the arctic seas, through turbulent winds, always able to accumulate more mass, and dredge on, creating, thriving, gathering, exploring. I’m somewhere between longing and satisfied. I truly believe that if I press myself in this capacity,  I might actually gather my lost art form and thrive in something I can sustain easily, that is, truly just for me.

I want to feel secure in what I convey as real, it may be through the guises of a blog, anonymous as it is,  but I want to be able to share with anyone whom stumbles along these lines, and sees it for what it is…or is this even what I really want to accomplish? I’m not sure, I know I’ll be twiddling my thumbs before I hit the publish icon, contemplating if this is what I really wish to convey, or should I add a recipe, or a quaint antidote of some such nonsense about motherhood. I’m not really sure where I’ll be going with any of this; I know I have to try something, do something, write something, say something. Not to anyone, not to everyone, just here, where I can stop for a second and be Faux-Real…

Hello world!?!

May we all stop for a moment and be…

Creepy baby


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