Monday, April 25, 2011


This will not be a story about love. When women write stories about coming of age they always include love. From a very young age we are taught that love is the most important facet of life. Finding love and keeping love are all that matter. We have been duped. Men do not spend their time thinking about love. They devote their time to ideas and to dreams.

Most women spend their teen years dreaming of the perfect man, or woman. Then we spend our twenties looking for the perfect man. We spend out thirties planning the prefect wedding and giving birth to our prefect children. We spend out forties getting divorced and healing from the pain. And, we spend the rest of our lives thinking we wasted our youth on men.

I am determined to give every young girl starting out in the world a better sense of what it means to be a woman.

Photo E.J. Bellocq, Storyville Photographs

Walking with the Past

It is early morning; the sun has yet to hang itself in the sky. I am obsessed with this time of day. It is the only time a person can be alone in this overcrowded city. I love being alone, but I also fear it. When one is alone the voices in ones head tend to take over. A lot of the voices in my head are ridden with anxiety. They are constantly trying to remember things that have never been forgotten.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

The city of Sisterly Love

I have become isolated in this uniquely hostile city
And now I must face what I have always feared
I am alone with myself

I love looking into the windows and souls of strangers
They serve as distractions
If I can focus my attention on them
I can continue to hide from me

I am alone in this mural drenched city
What if I do not like the person I meet?
I am alone in this bike ridden city
I cannot abandon this friend
like I have so many before

If I don't like her
the rest of my life will be a bad christian marriage
A life sentence of contempt

If I find her to be rude, untelligent and borish
I will still have to take her to parties in this wild city
and claim her as my own
while others roll their eyes

Why is it so easy to love others
and so hard to love myself?

Voyage of the Damned

When I started this blog I thought I was starting a flower empire. I had big plans. I just did not know what they were. As the months went on it got harder and harder to find something to say about flowers.

Then this week it hit me; I am having a hard time pursuing this bountiful flower empire because while I love flowers, I just don't care that much about them. I love to look at them, I love to smell them, I love to cover my apartment in them, and I especially love to put them in my hair. But, when push comes to shove I just don't give a damn about flowers.

Of course this blog will suffer. But, now I am faced with the challenge of figuring out exactly what it is that I am passionate about. Lately I've heard that this is the challenge of youth. As I walk among the all-knowing adults I am starting to believe that seeking out true passion is a life-long quest. And, for some, a damned voyage. Before I set sail on this journey I'd like to make a champagne toast to hope, to perseverance, and to finding new worlds.

Monday, April 18, 2011


Some people say you are born into the world with a destiny, an unbendable path. Most people believe them if only to survive. To stay alive in the dark, unyielding world that we live in one must find something in which to believe. I believe in nothing. If I was born with purpose, it has yet to show itself to me. I bend with the wind, waiting for my spine to break.