The Grand Adventures of Roxy Anne Girl

LET IT BE...

2010-08-25T13:12:00.000-07:00

I wanted to believe. As a child I believed in magical creatures: beautiful snow white unicorns hidden in lush green forests, fairies that slept in curled up leaves, and wizards that created spells to save the day. My imagination took me to places far away where I could escape and come back from my adventures renewed and cleansed – as if I gave my mind a much needed bath.

Unaware, I realized I have been trying my hand at make believe – yet all grown up. There are no unicorns or fairies in this grown-up game. Castles, Knights, and Dragons… oh my! Someone stop this girl and pull her back from the clouds, so she can learn just why she wears this unattractive frown!

Perhaps the fault is my own. We all have perceptions of how ‘we’ would handle things, what “we” would say, what “we” would do, how “we” would act. When others don’t follow the plot map we unknowingly designed and decorated in our minds who is really at fault? I find there is a very thin line between expectations and my own personal moral code. I’m not talking please and thank you as our parents should have taught us, but rather the act of being consistent instead of a poorly wired light switch that comes on and off. However, what I see could be just an interpretation of another person’s artwork. Isn’t that what we do when our feelings are hurt? We study the words or actions and come to our own opinion of what the artist really feels, says, does and why they do?

Today, I think John Lennon had it right: when in doubt, “Let it Be.” There is so much noise as thoughts fly around and around like a herd of disturbed bees in my befuddled brain. Sometimes the sweetest nectar is sitting back and letting it all… just be.

Hanging by a Moment

2010-06-30T22:48:00.000-07:00

She said there was nothing to say. She sat there staring out at a blank surface but her eyes darted as if she was reliving a tormented scene. She shudders and laughs half smiling to distract us from watching the sadness covering the person we no longer really knew. She had shrunken inside her self and boarded up the doors. There was nothing left for the four of us to do so we sat there in silence. As time inched along, one by one everyone took thier leave. I sat there unmoving and prepared to stay all night in the silence. Quietly as if a twig snapped she began to speak. Incoherant mumblings about choices and roads. She asked if the pain would ever go away,as if I knew, but I said nothing. She began to demand he would come back alive, as if I could make his death dissapear. She looked out at the emptiness around her and said: "there is no magic. There is no perfect ending. Fairytales are fucked. Life is unexpected and often unkind." Pulling out his wallet now without owner she smells it... Searching for a memory. I tell her the only thing my sad mind is capable of offering: "life is about moments. Stolen beautiful moments, first kisses, late nights out with your friends, making love all night, dancing in the rain. Yes, it can be unkind,but the moments that steal your breath are worth the pain. It might not seem like it now, but one morning you will wake up and the moments will comfort instead of torture you. We get moments. We live for moments.

Happy Father-less Day to You!

2010-06-20T01:44:00.000-07:00

Shela is twenty three and she laughs nervously when she talks and uses her hands to emphasize her stories. She says she never met her father or maybe she did (nervous laughter) but anyways if she did she was an infant and doesn't remember. She has another baby on the way and says her new boyfriend the second babies daddy is a great guy. She hopes he might ask her to marry him soon. She looks out the window as a small two year old plays with toy cars at her feet. She rubs her belly and smiles and repeats "yah this baby is going to be different now that we are all a family." Half convincing herself and half sheer hopefulness she laughs and asks "What about you? Did you have a great childhood?" I lean back in the puffy leather chair in the waiting room and glance over at the man bent forward waiting for a cue to say something. He had been sitting forward playing with his keys and hanging on our every word. He coughs and says "nobody has a good childhood." His matter-of-fact statement irritated Shela and she snaps "that's not true lots of people have good relationships with their parents!" Josh introduces himself to me and tells me he has a daughter that he visits when he can because babies mother moved away. He says he misses her and shows me a picture on his cell phone of a beautiful chubby redhead doll. He says Fathers Day "kinda sucks" because he won't see her. He doesn't talk to his own father much because his dad and him don't get eachother. His father always wanted him to be 'perfect' and Josh scratches his scruffy chin and laughs "guess I never measured up". Shela lifts her son onto her lap and says "I won't make my kids feel that way." Josh smiles "yah, me either" Then they both look at me with expressions that only mean one thing: 'your turn'. I shift uncomfortably and glance out the window as a only classic mustang goes driving by. I decide after a moment to offer these two strangers the truth, after all, hadn't they just opened up some honesty of thier own. Shela pressed "so what are you doing for fathers day?" It was such an innocent question as if someone asked "how was your day" but it felt like a doctor just walked in and told me I had a week to live. Josh leaned forward closer almost as if there was some sort of plack written on my face. "Nothing. I do nothing on Fathers day for the past eight or so years." Josh assumes my father has passed and offers his sympathy but I mimick Shela and laugh nervously. I say out loud the truth. Somehow I actually visualize the words coming out of my mouth and I want to pull them back in and shove them away where they can remain dormant and secret. My own little secret sad story just like theirs - only not real because I didn't share it. Too late. The words came out and the simple truth came out an emotionless lie so these strangers didn't feel sorry for me. "I haven't heard mybfathers voice in over five years. He's alive and I hear doing well but we don't talk. He has children and grandchildren that live near him so he's pretty busy which is fine because I'm busy too. I know he loves me though... I think he does... No,no I'm pretty sure he does. Anyways it's not that big a deal. Not really." lies. Lies to a room full of strangers. I didn't realize a tear came out till Shela touched my arm. It's a strange thing when someone you barely know sits quietly with you and allows you to lie. Josh sighs "yah like I said... Fathers Day just sucks!" Three strangers laugh in a stark mismatched lobby. As I get up to leave Shela waves "happy father-less day to you!" I smile and say "and happy fatherless day to you too!"

Memorial for the Father-less

2010-06-19T19:13:00.000-07:00

The empty boxes sit dusty broken down against the wall and the sun streams through the window to show a quiet room filled with dancing particles in the light. Everything stacked untouched in a home where the owner is no longer breathing. Left behind is memories and leaves his hands robbed with nothing human to touch. He stands in a vacant home unable to box belongings cherished by a father who he watched gasp for breath at his bodies last attempts to resist exit in this world. Fathers Day has never become a more painful approaching day. No mother and now no father. An orphan left behind and not quite sure how to fit into this world. He looked like a beaten soilder coming off the battlefeild. His shirt is dirty and worn and his baseball hat he keeps removing and putting back on - an obssesive compulsive movement he can't seem to stop. He is looking for comfort that is lost and no matter how much he puts put his arms he can't quite reach. He stares at family pictures and tries to remember just who the hell he was suppose to be. He says "fuck" over and over into an empty space to keep from crying, screaming, or hitting something. He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to feel. He just wants Fathers Day to go away.

Another View

2010-06-06T14:20:00.000-07:00

His hair was all the way grey and he spent his morning strategically combing over the thinning parts in an effort to make an older body feel like his younger mind. He choose to sit next to her, but only because he didn't like the idea of sitting alone. He wasn't planning on saying a word, but when a large sigh escaped her, he chuckled "My thoughts exacutly Miss" he held out his hand for an introduction. He saw the spiral notebook on her lap and although not quite on purpose, he had read the first few lines. It didn't seem right to him that a girl so young could be writing about sadness when beauty was everywhere. So choosing words carefully he suggested how precious life was. She looked at him and half smiled. Tucking her hair behind her ear and licking her lips she began slowly. "Have you ever been addicted to something, sir?" He tapped his breast pocket "Been smoking for years, so yep!" Then she said something that surprised him. She began to explain intoxication and how wonderful it felt to chase a high... Alcohol or drugs. She used colorful pictures of how it felt to let go and be in that time suspending state where nothing dark penitrates your space and how pain breifly subsides. Thinking obviously she was in serious trouble, he suggested a possible rehabilitation center. She was quiet and then asked: "Sir... Imagine that substance was a person. How do you check into rehab then?" he smiled relieved and couldn't resist bumping her shoulder "Ahh... That I do understand. You scared me there for a moment!" She told him he should be scared because a love drunk heart is absolutly more fearful then any substance you could smoke, snort, inject or drink. She explained her case with detail and honesty. How there are some people in the world who while you are in thier presence you feel drunk alive. You forget the things you know as truth when you are sober without them. She explained that the withdrawal was unbarable when you come down from the high of them. How you always know when they leave your system you will fall harder and faster then the next time and you will be out chasing your next big high. Her eyes scanned the room and then settled back on him "walking away and quiting what isn't good for you is the hardest most painful thing you can ever experiance." He thought for awhile staring at her picking at her chipped nail polish. Her funny little new-age hair cut and dressed up the way younger girls nowadays do. She was a curious thing. A vision of normal sitting in a plastic chair among the crowd. He smiled and reached for his cigerrates handing them to her "Well, shit lil-lady after that what the hell do I need these for?" she giggled a refreshing sound to break the calculated calm surrounding her. He places his hand on her journal and leans forward and says above as whisper: "I think everything walks into our lives on purpose. I think life is a beautiful messy dance and we all screw up the steps sometimes. What really matters is how we teach ourselves everyday to twist and turn lifes events, so we can enjoy the journey." he stood up slowly gathered his hat and his breifcase "It was beyond a pleasure to meet you and I can honeslty say young lady... You have made my day. You are a brilliant voice in this world. Try to look out the window more - it's a view of a bright-sun-shinny-day!"

Priceless Tools

2010-06-03T22:18:00.000-07:00

He spends his free time rifling through his belongings. Those tangiable items that make him feel connected to something grounded and real. It passes the time and his thoughts become mechanical. He removes his baseball hat to scrath his head and clears his throat. One saw, a flat head, drill, sander... Methodically rearranged piles of meaningless meaning to a man who looks more like a little boy sitting on the carpet with wrapping around him Christmas morning. He lifts up his shirt and scrathes his chest trying to ignore the photo album on his roll away red toolbox. Careful not to disturb it's contents. If opened it would reveal a pretty little girl smiling in her best party dress. It would show him a life he choose to walk away from and the painful smile would cross his face and today, like tomorrow, it would be too much for his sleepless eyes to handle. One drill bit, a screwdriver, a grinder, and a box of nails. Left to right and side by side on well thought out stacks in the garage. The door opens and she peeks her head out with a smile. She joins him and sits as he goes through the ritual. Two bodies in a cold messy garage. He tilts his head and gives her his best goofy grin and sticks put his tongue. She laughs and plays with the back of his hair. She reachs out and places her hand gently on the photo album and stands still. "maybe you should go see your daughter today?" She says as the bright blue of his eyes change. She points to his phone on his hip and smiles. Standing next to him as he makes the call that's most days harder then breathing. One screwdriver, one paint roller, one hammer. Side by side and left to right... One man and one silly little girl stand.

The Pretend Life

2010-06-02T19:40:00.000-07:00

She doesn't make all the right choices and the unexpected seems to find her at the weakest moment. She'll tell you she's logical, but the silly girl always follows her heart. Most of the time she's dreaming with her head filled with stories and hope. Her hopefulness and genuine belief of human kindness is her flaw. It's painful how often it leaves her silly little scrunched up face staring off at the sunset alone. The world feels like it's dancing past her, she says. A soft whisper into the cool empty breeze. Those fluttery souls around her warn her of the edge she approaches, but silly little thing keeps walking unaware. Her flip flops are broken, her shirt is wrinkled and her jeans are to faded to enter the ballroom. You will find her palms pressed tightly to the glass watching with a smile and awe-glowing in tear filled eyes. They are all inside the warm cherry blossom room, soft orchestra sounds, clinking glasses, laughing babies, and couples embracing. An orphan to the dance, but she still stands to watch the show. The pretend man comes behind her "I'm sorry you can't go inside" he says sadly. She looks over her shoulder at the darkness. She knows the scent of him like her lungs shudder to exhale. She breathes in the familiar comfort of him in and closes her tired aging eyes. She lies to herself again "it's alright". A couple opens the balcony doorway and she leans forward hopeful and eager to finally gain entrance. His pretend hand intertwined her fingers and pulls her back gently and with regret. He says into her ear close enough it's as if he was emerging from her "No silly girl- you know this dance will never be for you".

The Dance of Summer

2010-05-20T15:45:00.000-07:00

There is a subtle sting in the air and crisp wheat field feel of rushing summer. There is a living painting that exists in a secret quiet place. In the distance an old barn nestled in a fading green field sits a lone with pink spray painted words “Better Days”. A long dirt road stretches out for miles and tumble weeds skip on a stage without audience. Behind a broken fence two horses nestle necks as shinny black manes toss in rhythm with the dancing wheat at their feet. An old blue Chevy truck missing a tire tilts up to sky mimicking the expansive bluish hue of the setting sun. A white meek ranch rambler house proudly sits with two wicker rocking chairs and laundry claims its title like flags flying on the line. The breathless flat dusty silence reminds tired eyes of summers past and “Better Days” yet to come.

Priceless Present Moments

2010-05-18T10:14:00.000-07:00

I stopped writing… perhaps because of the quiet I needed in my soul. Words left me the moment he became a ghost. The written word became frightening truth serum when I so desperately wanted a lie. But as life often does… it throws in a random spin that wasn’t quite expected. The air shifted into folds of velvet and the crisp orchard air clung to us. As I lay in the emerging sunrise with my head on his chest listening to his heart beat and our fingers intertwined I sigh. Contented fear grips me. My head spins me forward to the plans, the logic, the ‘what now’. Shhh… silly girl. Just be. Surrender to the emerging light and float for awhile.

A Birthday Letter

2009-09-23T15:30:00.000-07:00

Every year on my Birthday I write a little letter to myself. These letters are mostly scattered in boxes and boxes of filled journals in my garage. It always gives me a chuckle to think of those I love coming across a treasure chest of my scrabbled thoughts after I am no longer a body on this earth. Perhaps a bit strange , but it is a comfort to know my secret thoughts one day will be aired out between those I knew and cherished. The best way to know ‘me’ is through the words I scribble and the best way for me to find all the answers I seek is to stare at these ink filled creations and find out new things about the puzzle which is "me". Words are my greatest teacher. This year, I decided to do something new. I am publishing my Birthday letter to myself on my blog.

Dear Crazy Girl,

In two days you will be twenty nine years old and I am beaming. I suppose the way a parent must look at their child and sigh with pride. It is strange that this is the kindest letter I have ever written you, but I am so relieved we have finally made it this far.

I want you to really reflect on everything you have accomplished and carry it with you towards our next year. In this past year you have: left behind old ideas of how things “should be” and how people “should be”, quit smoking, exercise every day, eat healthy, you are actively conscious of your thoughts, actions, and reactions, and you are who you promised yourself you would strive to become. I am very proud you kept the promises you made to yourself.

There is always more to reach for and it's excting to see what the future will bring. I would like to see you do the following things this year: complete a novel, submit a novel several times to publishers, spend more time connecting with family, practice helping others more then helping yourself, be genuinely happy for others and all of there successes, make positive choices, and always choose to be less critical and more kind.

I looked at pictures of you as a baby and was amazed at the reactions of those in the photo around you. All these people standing around in those pictures taking an active role in that tiny bodies new moments. These little slivers of souls blended into parts of you and radiate around you. It moves me how children in photographs are always so genuine – they haven’t yet learned to ‘pose’ for a picture. I stared at the picture of this little girl looking up at her father and I saw love of real emotions cascading out of nine-month-old eyes. I saw a photo of a two-year-old girl looking up at her mother’s twinkling eyes with a new profound sense of awe and I saw a beautiful promise of devotion. That is the kind of beauty I want us to continue to connect with every additional year of our life. The other “stuff” in life is just “stuff”– but love in the eyes of a child is a love with out condition or expectations. It just is.

If a fairy god-mother came down and told me I could change anything in our past- I would tell her I would change nothing at all. I am overwhelmingly thankful for everything and everyone that has come across my path. There is nothing I would change - Not even the tiniest of detail. Without all the beautiful blemishes in days past... I would not be me and that would just not do!

Most important thing this year I want to leave you with is: Remember - I am always unconditionally proud of you. Happy 29th Birthday! Do good things this year!

Love,
Marissa

My Reflection

2009-09-10T15:46:00.000-07:00

The state of your life is nothing more than a reflection of your state of mind.~ Dr Wayne Dyer

I woke up this morning with a groan that was cut short. As I stretched looking at the clock I realized that I was going to be very late to work. I slept in. Instead of my usual panic mode when I realize I am running late I just smiled and the oddest thing happened. I laughed. I didn't rush to take a shower or frantically search for clothes to wear. I just calmly went through a very relaxing ritual telling myself "I'll get there when I get there." Normally I'm not this flippant about being late for work, but I knew I was late and there nothing was going to change that. Rather then starting my day off rushing, worrying, and raising my blood pressure I decided to just "let it be." When I stepped outside I realized it felt like the kind of day that blends a mix of laughter, sunscreen, and sunglasses into a sizzling energizing potion. A familiar day - like last day of school before summer vacation. I felt giddy as my windows were rolled down and the music was up a little to high on my way into work. I felt confident as I walked around in my world all day. I smiled at everyone - and kept smiling... even to those who didn't smile back. It felt good. Today feels like freedom. A vacation from old thinking patterns... enjoy the moments. Just being.

A Precious & Rare Ruby

2009-08-31T12:13:00.000-07:00

Most of us have a place we can escape too and for the moment the tilted world seems to have been righted again. Perhaps for you, it’s a home office, an overstuffed chair in a local starbucks, or a peaceful afternoon drive. I have a place where the heavy door creaking open floods me with an overwhelming sense of ‘home’. My secret get away smells like decades of memories with a dash of fresh herbs and spices. Imagine a place where anything can be said, every living thing is respect and cherished, nothing is judged, a live backyard wildlife show, and (as if that’s not priceless enough) you are served lavish food fit for a royal meal. My grandmother’s home looks like just another home on another street, but what you don’t see – is behind that heavy wooden door is a world that is allowed to just ‘be’. This extraordinary woman is one of the greatest teachers in my life. She isn’t being kind to achieve anything nor looking for award, or expecting anything in return. She enjoys every precious living thing; she offers her food and her home to everything from no legs to four legs and everything in-between. It is her home which is my ‘church’ and where I can always find solace and understanding. Sometimes you need to check into reality to see what really is. The truth is: it makes me feel really good about me… that I see how beautiful she is, because perhaps that means one day I can offer that kind of radiance to the world around me.

Flawed Beautifully- just me.

2009-08-28T15:44:00.000-07:00

I danced on the edge of the world. I drank from a peaceful stream. Arms stretched to the sky with a determined smile. The dress I wore was tattered and shabby, but it danced around me in the breeze magnificently. The song sounded like the fall of leaves and the beat was the deafening sound of change. Every torn hem caught the sunlight and flowed with the rhythm of the ocean waves. It was the fabric which made the scene captivating. Each thread misplaced, each tear feathered, and each fray fluttering was surrounded by the glow and green of nature. Alone surrounded by everything alive was like waking into a precious dream. Awakened... owning the key. Flawed beautifully- just me.

No More Butts

2009-08-26T16:18:00.000-07:00

Dirty Laundry very rarely gets aired and if it does it is unlikely it is ones whose laundry it is. However, being the unconventional girl I am, I feel the necessity to admit the truth that I have been keeping hidden in the shadows. Perhaps many of you already knew and decided to stand back and wait for me to come clean. So here it is… My big ugly truth is: I was a smoker and now I’m a happy non smoker! But why did I hide it? I wasn’t proud of my addiction and I didn’t want to smoke anymore, but I had somehow convinced myself that I couldn’t quit. Everything I kept telling myself was committing me to lighting up again and again- Life was too hard, problems to stressful, tobacco addiction are too hard to quit, and my favorite excuse “I will soon”, but soon never came. I consider myself a very intelligent person, yet I knew what I was continuously doing was STUPID STUPID STUPID! I was afraid without the crutch - I couldn’t cope, but the more I smoked the more I worried I would get cancer and die. It was a vicious carnival ride that never stopped, but went around and around making me feeling more ashamed and sick. Surprise, the more embarrassed I felt the more I smoked. I read an amazing book by Allen Carr the Easyway to Quit Smoking. It questions and answers the psychology of smoking. It didn’t come equipped with any miracle drug, no substitutes (nicotine patches or gum), but by time I finished the book I had my very last cigarette that I will ever have! I suppose the simple message in the book wasn’t something I couldn’t figure out on my own, but it made me question and motivated me to take a closer look at what I allow myself to believe. Now, there is no more hiding, no more feeling guilty, and grossed out with my dirty little addiction. Finally, it’s no longer a part of me. Aside from hopefully avoiding many horrible diseases it contributes too - The most important thing about conquering this demon was the realization that I refuse to hand over power to anything in my life I do not want there!!!

Finding a Way Out of the Maze

2009-08-20T15:20:00.000-07:00

As a kid the movie Labyrinth always fascinated me, but I keep playing a certain line in the movie over and over in my head as of late.

“Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child that you have stolen, for my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great — You have no power over me.”

This movie is filled with great messages for kids (and actually some adults I know could also benefit from this cinematic adventure). Some of the messages are: not always believing what you see, about letting ‘helping hands’ assist you when you need it, the necessity of friendships and teamwork, the quote “everything is possible” is thrown out several times in the movie, and the ultimate message that nobody has power over you. Of course, as a kid, I loved the funny goblins and the David Bowie music but subconsciously that line of the movie has always stayed with me and every now and again I remember it.

Recently, a certain someone had me thinking of the movie Labyrinth and everything suddenly became crisp and clear. I saw him today… my shadow friend… and the stabbing pain of hurt is somehow gone. In-fact, as I looked at his face and he looked back at mine I felt a quiet. There is a kind of quiet that tells a once tender heart that the mourning period is over. It leaves composure as if the once treacherous waters have been stilled into a lapping lake. I felt sorry for my shadow friend as he walked away – then stopped turned around and asked if he can see me tonight. My reply was as simple as the turning of a knob that silently shuts the door of a sleeping baby. It was somber to see him standing alone in the shadows of the street while I stood by the car in the sunlight. The impression will etch itself in my memory forever: His tired face, wrinkled shirt that folded slightly up on one sleeve, unshaven chin, titled baseball cap, and the awkward stance of a man damned. “I really do miss you…I want to be in your world” he says. A wave of pity comes over me. “I know” is all I can whisper into the silence as I recite the simple words in my head…“Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to take back what you have stolen, for my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great - You have no power over me!!!

Playing with Puzzle Pieces

2009-08-18T14:55:00.000-07:00

I don’t feel the doom and gloom. I know it’s lurking out there because I have seen it on many faces I pass in the shuffle of my everyday life. It seems many people are cashing-in and checking-out. Life is hard especially with the media reminding us just how unhappy we ‘should’ feel. However, in my little world something is different. I see the bills stacking up on the entryway table in my house, all the while, knowing that my position at work is shaky. I know that I have a lot of goals I have recently set for myself which might possibly be difficult, but some sort of shift took place. It was slight at first. The morning I woke up and didn’t feel like crying was the middle. The beginning was just one good choice I made for 'me' that snowballed into... what one can only define as... happiness? Nowadays, I just smile at the piling stack of bills I need to pay. I intend to pay them and I will, but right now I can’t so … I smile instead. Did I crack? Nope. I just changed. Eating right and working out use to seem like this huge mountain I looked up at but felt to afraid to climb. Now, I enjoy it – I can’t believe I wasted so much time not making it an essential part of my life. Losing weight is good for my health and the 13 pounds I have lost feels great, but there is something even more impressive I discovered. One night while exercising I thought “what other changes can I make?” and it inspired me to change everything else in my life I didn’t like! Like spring cleaning for the soul. If something doesn’t fit into who I want to be – I just throw it out! Gone! Just like that! This might seem like an infomercial on selling "happy" but indulge me a little further. I even changed how I felt about the people in my life who use to make me feel bad about me – FLIP! I smile at them too! Just like that! And what’s really fantastic is the changes I have made make me like this new girl more everyday! Like a puzzle – I am putting me back together – starting from the edges and working my way to the middle. “It starts with ME first!” it’s my new mantra!

My Mirror Friend

2009-08-09T23:30:00.000-07:00

I'm really trying to focus on an important relationship I have neglected. I spent some time with myself today trying to become my friend again. I think somewhere along the way I forgot to be kind, understanding, and tolerant to the girl looking back at me in the mirror. I don't remember the last time I spent a day alone with myself, my thoughts, and calming household tasks. I discovered I actually enjoyed spending time with her. Perhaps the greatest failed relationship is the one we have with ourselves. If we don't take care of this relationship - no other connections can succeed. Sometimes in the simplicity of scrubbing a sink with a sponge in silence a friendship can be strengthened. Today for the first time, I smiled at the girl in the mirror and she smiled back and... she meant it.

Nothing Is Priceless

2009-08-08T21:26:00.000-07:00

"I will not cry - I will stand tall and proud" She says outloud in the vacant space. She wears the clothes of someone defeated. Outside in the dark on a quiet street staring at the rendezvous spot she sat alone. Secret meeting of lovers in the middle of the night. It was the perfect night - the shifting breeze rolled across the shoulders inviting, and the bright Moon cast a glow across the freshly watered lawn. The crisp smell of the air was seductive. Only tonight, she was on the outside... knowing behind the blue door and down that hall inside that little house someone else was with him. With the sadest smile placed across her face she shook her head. She had been a fool. She just needed to know it was true. Like the bright lights of vegas - she saw who he was in one brilliant fragment of time. Images projected before her tired eyelids of laughter, stolen moments, places they had gone, and talks they had shared. A human connection shattered like glass thrown on the pavement. It was done. Choices. She was done.

He knew he was caught. He stared out through the window in the dark room trying to see the figure inside the car. He couldn't see her - he couldnt be sure she was in there- but he knew. He knew the way the nights moon knows how to cast shadows. Frozen, he watched as the car started with a violent hum breaking the silent calm of the slumbering street. She didn't see him standing there. Of that he could be sure. He can almost hear a whisper as if she is there in the room with him "The choices we make... dictate the life we lead." Some moments change everything. This moment would. Doomed - he would lose again. He has lost so much in his wasted life. Choices. He watches the car fade into the night and after a moment he turns - walking back down the hall . Walking through the bedroom door he stares down at the girl waiting for him. She stretchs out her arms to him. Choices. Laying back down he knows he will not sleep again tonight. This night would haunt him. Shadows would shift on the wall before him playing images of all he had lost. His own worst enemy... was his very soul.

The Reason Night & Day is Divided...

2009-08-07T14:41:00.000-07:00

Perhaps someone offered me a pill and I took it and it made me see you in a different light or maybe I am just a silly little girl twirling around thoughts like a ballerina with images of pretty flower petals in my hair and beautiful dancing ponies. But, the how I got here doesn’t really matter. I danced on the wave of you and soaked in the sun until the clouds started rolling in and the rain started to fall. The text book manual of you is filled with descript condemning words like glass shards and tears – where all hopes and dreams go to wither and perish. The unwritten you – the tale you’ve made me see was so bright like a halo around everything so jaded. How similar the two of you are, the Moon and you – illuminating the sky surrounded by a veil of darkness it can not escape. I care so freely and love so deeply, but I prefer it to the silent emptiness of midnight nothingness. I will miss the thrill and the excitement of seeing your smile and the light surrounding you -only I can see. You do not belong to the dark night like the renegade Moon. You belong in a field of yellow flowers for miles, or shape shifted into the cool night breeze caressing the skin as a lover. I have lost nothing because I never really had you – you are preoccupied letting the nights sky own you. A man addicted to the pattern of the Moon-standing still and shinning only from far away. I risked my heart, but can not risk anything else for you. When the veil I wore was lifted and the choice became me or you... this blond girl whispers out loud standing tall in her silent damning victory barefoot on the porch “I choose me.”

Mind-Sick and The Bumps to Prove it!

2009-07-31T13:15:00.000-07:00

I’ve been saying a little phrase – out loud and in my head “I’m allergic to my life!” These are very powerful words… in-fact so powerful that I have hives on my stomach and my arms! I thought I was being so funny and clever with my witty saying… and now it’s manifested its self to be true. The mind is a powerful thing which of course got me thinking… if I can create hives from stress what can I create with peaceful feelings? And isn’t this what the entire guru’s of the world have been saying? Did I really need hives to stop the negativity flowing through me? Perhaps I did! Most importantly, if I can believe everything will work out and I will be just fine… would I? Just a little lesson in perceptions and flip! I go over to the positive side!

New. Change. Fear.

2009-07-29T11:01:00.000-07:00

I’m not sure where I thought I would be. There wasn’t a checklist I made when I turned eighteen on who I was going to be ten years later. Something doesn’t fit with this imaginary plan hovering like a ghost above my head. In the middle of the night its as if I am the only audience to the world. Staring out my bedroom window at four in the morning calmed by the stars who feel like old friends. We have sat in this same bright darkness together in comfortable quiet on many occasions. Tonight I feel change taking place without me… I know its time. My nemesis and my greatest ally. Change will move forward feet planted firmly in the desert sand with its head down carrying its burden on its back towards the new. Do I go quietly or make a scene? If I choose to fight I will be walking with bound hands and tattered clothes staggering behind Change. If I go peacefully I’ll have to let go of the comfort of Fear. Being afraid has been such a comfort -it lets me shake my blond curls as I nod “no” with arms crossed and regress back to five years old again. How did I grow up and still manage to bring Fear this far with me? Letting go of fear and accepting change… the battle is on!

The Paper-bag Princess ... Is Me?!?!

2009-07-22T10:15:00.000-07:00

Writing to calm the squalls of my mind… Like my own little Yantzee party only the dice are my thoughts rolling around in a great vacant space. Time to reason with myself on what is important and what isn’t. Evaluating what can and will take the cut in my life. Unfortunately, the house will be the first to go. I keep reminding myself that a lot of people are downsizing and struggling.

Why do I hold on to an image – or need a pretty picture on the outside? The car, the house… all those things are just “things” – pretty things, but not NEEDED things. This princess-like mentality I find myself battling with is not only annoyingly unattractive but also disappointing. Perhaps the biggest lesson to be learned is to simplify my life… in everyway possible. I have been living outside my means and struggling to hold on to the picture that everything is OKAY.

What I found interesting is that I was holding onto this image for myself. Was I afraid I wouldn’t like me if I didn’t have these things? Was I valuing me on what I HAD? Did I really think - If I can pull into the driveway in my pretty green mustang and walk up to my huge house turning the key and walk inside then I was and will be ‘okay’. The fear of change that I have carried with me since childhood – the need to keep everything in order and the ‘same’ has dragged me into what I can only sum up as - quite a little pickle.

This pretense is only making it worse and I find myself flailing like a drowning man looking for a life preserve. It is time for me to grow up – make the best choice which isn’t always the prettiest and requires owning up and making a change, so I can learn to tread water once again.

Moving on… and moving out…

Vague pages fill the story of my life.

2009-07-07T14:30:00.000-07:00

Nothing is ever what it seems. My life is as cryptic as the words I write. Often people ask me what and who my words are about. I’m haunted by what I can create in my mind – what flows through my tired hands on white new pages. I can create the most beautiful scenes the most amazing stories, but it lives in a tattered worn notebook by the side of my bed. I exist merely in words. There are no happy endings without words – just fluttering moments like butterflies or the shift of the wind. We get moments of what could be and what will always be…Then the very movement of the world creates a shadow of what is. How I wish and long for the super power to freeze time outside of my pages. How I would suspend the moments that made me feel hopeful and alive and wallow in them. I would bask in the sunlight of each sliver of human kindness, of passion, of love, and most of all of feeling. The kind of feeling that does not judge, does not hold back does not challenge. It just is. I would laugh at those who told me this was a lesson – all things I am learning – this too shall pass. I would just freeze time and exist for awhile in my safe place. I would see them all there – those who inspired me and made me feel whole when I was a shell. I would smile but say nothing as I walked past them. I'm walking down a long stream barefoot in a spring meadow filled with yellow flowers for miles. I'm looking for someone in particular - the one I look for most these days. Seeing in the distance a form alone just past the trees I hesitate and soak in the feeling of who I know is waiting there. Slowly... holding my breath I would carefully step closer. I would join and sit with my shadow friend for awhile – just exist with him suspended in a moment and the past would play like a video tape before us – only the good parts – the parts when I felt alive and less tired and worn. The parts when real life and it’s real 'worlds' didn’t collide. Nothing shatters on the river bank near my stream. There is only moss covered trees that sway with an inviting breeze, muttering glittering pools of clear crisp waters rolling over rounded rocks, the smell of new soil and green foliage, and the promise that love can truly conquer all. “I don’t want to go back” I mutter to the shadow friend beside me. “Do we really have to go back?” I ask the silence. I know the answer. I always know the answer. What if this time I can’t dusk off my knees and return for another round. What if I can’t keep moving forward when there feels like there is nothing to move forward too? Cowardly, I hide behind all good things blocking out my reality. My shadow friend shifts. His brilliant face tilts and sad blue glass eyes look back at me. He will return – he won’t stay here with me – time can only freeze so long. He wants to go back – the thing he needs exists in the real world. Let him go… let it all just fade away. Moments. A handful of moments cupped in silly little hands. Vague nothingness of crumbling pages like a forgotten and overlooked torn dress.

The Egg Timer War

2009-05-26T23:28:00.000-07:00

Tick... Tick... Tick... time is restless and fading. I see the mental picture of the egg timer my mother had in her kitchen when I was younger. I was six years old when I realized it was moving and would sometime soon ring. Done. Final.

Rush... Rush... Rush... racing the clock to fit it all in before moments become silence and all that is left is wishes.

Feel... Feel... Feel... trying to soak it all in before love runs out of time. My breath catches - his smile changes my mood. Spinning and running into a breeze so light.. so young.. so free.

Hurry... Hurry... Hurry... things change.. people change.. and he could be gone. Time changes without you. Keep up, dont trip, keep going.

Realize... Realize... Realize... the tiny fragments we have are priceless pearls in my collected box of moments.

Reaching... Reaching... Reaching... for everything out of reach, wishing for stolen kisses under the stars, rushing to feel everything before the eggtimer rings, hoping each corner I turn was the best choice for me.

Sigh... restless.. wanting time to suspend and stop so i can catch my breath...

Einstein My Soulmate...

2009-03-30T15:35:00.000-07:00

"The World As I See It"
An Essay By Einstein (http://www.aip.org/history/einstein/essay.htm)

"How strange is the lot of us mortals! Each of us is here for a brief sojourn; for what purpose he knows not, though he sometimes thinks he senses it. But without deeper reflection one knows from daily life that one exists for other people -- first of all for those upon whose smiles and well-being our own happiness is wholly dependent, and then for the many, unknown to us, to whose destinies we are bound by the ties of sympathy. A hundred times every day I remind myself that my inner and outer life are based on the labors of other men, living and dead, and that I must exert myself in order to give in the same measure as I have received and am still receiving...

"I have never looked upon ease and happiness as ends in themselves -- this critical basis I call the ideal of a pigsty. The ideals that have lighted my way, and time after time have given me new courage to face life cheerfully, have been Kindness, Beauty, and Truth. Without the sense of kinship with men of like mind, without the occupation with the objective world, the eternally unattainable in the field of art and scientific endeavors, life would have seemed empty to me. The trite objects of human efforts -- possessions, outward success, luxury -- have always seemed to me contemptible.

"My passionate sense of social justice and social responsibility has always contrasted oddly with my pronounced lack of need for direct contact with other human beings and human communities. I am truly a 'lone traveler' and have never belonged to my country, my home, my friends, or even my immediate family, with my whole heart; in the face of all these ties, I have never lost a sense of distance and a need for solitude..."

"My political ideal is democracy. Let every man be respected as an individual and no man idolized. It is an irony of fate that I myself have been the recipient of excessive admiration and reverence from my fellow-beings, through no fault, and no merit, of my own. The cause of this may well be the desire, unattainable for many, to understand the few ideas to which I have with my feeble powers attained through ceaseless struggle. I am quite aware that for any organization to reach its goals, one man must do the thinking and directing and generally bear the responsibility. But the led must not be coerced, they must be able to choose their leader. In my opinion, an autocratic system of coercion soon degenerates; force attracts men of low morality... The really valuable thing in the pageant of human life seems to me not the political state, but the creative, sentient individual, the personality; it alone creates the noble and the sublime, while the herd as such remains dull in thought and dull in feeling.
"This topic brings me to that worst outcrop of herd life, the military system, which I abhor... This plague-spot of civilization ought to be abolished with all possible speed. Heroism on command, senseless violence, and all the loathsome nonsense that goes by the name of patriotism -- how passionately I hate them!

"The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed. It was the experience of mystery -- even if mixed with fear -- that engendered religion. A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, our perceptions of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty, which only in their most primitive forms are accessible to our minds: it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute true religiosity. In this sense, and only this sense, I am a deeply religious man... I am satisfied with the mystery of life's eternity and with a knowledge, a sense, of the marvelous structure of existence -- as well as the humble attempt to understand even a tiny portion of the Reason that manifests itself in nature."

The What If Game

2009-03-25T14:50:00.000-07:00

When I was little the game of ‘What if…’ was my favorite – ask my mother she will tell you how exciting it was to play this game with me- day in day out. ‘What if…’ is my own little personality flaw and now as an adult I still play this game frequently. This game is often my greatest nemesis and sometimes my best ally – depending on how I decide what frame of mind is controlling me.

Today, I keep repeating - What if everything works out just fine? What if nothing is really as hard as it seems? What if my life is going exactly as planned and something spectacular is just around the bend? What if I just keep smiling until things stop making me so sad – will I believe it then? What if love sometimes gets hidden in the folds of stress, but it’s really actually there? What if I let myself fall and everything doesn’t shatter? What if for one day – I am not afraid? What if I just feel thankful? What if I stop over analyzing every little thing? What if I walk up to him and say exactly what I feel? What if I just feel content in my own skin? What if I decide to become best friends with myself? What if I am the answer to all the problems?

And this folks is how you play the game… now you know how noisy it is in my mind.

Stars and Dark Cluttered Corners.

2009-03-24T14:06:00.001-07:00

Sometimes in worn shoes I go dancing on the thread of existence. Other times I hide behind a willow tree peeking through long flowing limps until the coast is clear. Today, I am neither of those things...

Right now, I’m dreaming of a blue truck with a white camper driving down my street to knock on my door and invite me to stare up at the stars for awhile. A perfect recipe for an evening is only complete with silly grins, funny pauses, blue jeans, backward baseball cap, intoxicating presence, and the fear and excitement of what it truly means to learn what defines someone.

I think the best part in life is getting to know someone who lets you in – to see all the cracks in the foundations, the mismatched furnishing of their lives, and the dark cluttered corners they hide. Realizing we are all cluttered, worn, shattered, and afraid … sometimes. It’s the broken pieces, the awkward knick-knacks, and the sloping foundation which makes a vintage dwelling truly amazing – because of its personal story. Sometimes the rarity makes it feel like home.

My favorite moment is when I am invited inside- to see the complete person - what nobody else can see from the outside… and then realizing that even after I have been shown around, I still unconditionally want to stay and clear out a dusty worn room.
The best part of my day is when you invite me in to look around your world.

Taking a Ride on My Crazy Train

2009-03-23T14:24:00.000-07:00

Back when I was a kid - I thought nothing would was worse then when I realized there was no Santa Claus. A tiny human realizes the world you knew is shattered and you wonder how much of what you were told was never really true at all – by the people you thought and would always believe would never lie to you. Over time you realize it was a “kind lie” the kind of lie that told across the nation for the fun and spirit of an American Tradition. Ever notice how it’s ok to lie for “Traditions” sake? I always find this kind of collective reasoning amusing.

What is worse then the Santa Claus realization is believing in a cause and a person who you once respected, admired, and thought of as a mentor. When the colors of a person change and the banner you use to wave in there defense seems heavy and humiliating... you are left with a vacant feeling. There is nothing worse then realizing everyone has an agenda and that at twenty-eight years old you just figured out what most figure out at the age of sixteen. When you feel like the last naïve person left and you realize the supporters you thought were behind you, left the show a long time ago.

Lately, I have been feeling like the guy on the side of the road that stands there all day with his cardboard sign with hand written letters that says: “Honk for Peace”. Only this peace loving Average Joe seems excited and eager for his message, and never notices he is standing on this little corner all alone – waving his message with a smile. Granted, for all I know he suffers from a mental illness and has a slew of people with him in his mind, but seeing him always makes me silently sad. Like him and I are both the same – wanting to believe in something extraordinary in a world that might only be capable of ordinary. Perhaps our delusions of unrealistic beliefs in humanity is a mental illness, maybe me and peace loving corner guy are just strange crazy eccentrics in a world full of self indulgent developmentally stilted adults.

If I am mentally challenged in my view of the world, then I guess I rather be hopeful and believe in what I thought I saw in those around me who wore a mask and offered a lie. I choose to take the crazy pill of kindness without agenda and without personal gain. This is my kind of crazy – and I just hope the world doesn’t “get to me” and somehow change my crazy into their idea of normal. I just have to believe – in the hope for extraordinary

Shackled Life

2009-03-20T11:18:00.000-07:00

Overwhelmed with life – I step outside. Then silently I stop, as if walking into a room and interrupting two lovers, I stand looking down the empty street watching the wind shift debris across the ground. As if not to interrupt the leaves, I inch closer quiet and watch the twirling and spinning - A synchronized dance under the brilliant sun. I am hypnotized. If only I could escape in the motion and become part of the performance. Air playful tosses around my hair as an invitation. It’s unbearable to resist joining the chaos of shifting change. Envious of the paper, leaves, and bags suspended in the air as the cell phone in my hand reminds me I am late for work. Remembering the chain on my ankle a mile long with worries, car payment, insurance, rent, bills, work… I limp to the car dragging it with me. Pulling out of the driveway I take one last glance at the dance – I dash away a quick tear and head in the opposite direction reminding myself… I am all grown up.

Got Pee? Serious Need for Urgency!

2009-01-14T11:43:00.001-08:00

You know when you finally find a bathroom when you need to pee... you push everything out of the way, people, shopping carts, small children; you park diagonally and take up three spaces, you run, you come up with plans and ideas all to take you to that one place? And nothing stands in your way? Why can’t people place this same urgency to pee into meeting a deadline?

My positive attitude can take me as far as the recent wall I restlessly keep meeting. The barrier consists of a serious lack for motivations for those around me who once assigned a task are inept at follow through. I understand and advocate for the need to take time to smell the roses. I hop on the rose smelling bus and even have the t-shirt; however “Find tranquility” “Enjoy Life to the Fullest” has its time and place. Save the rose smelling when you haven’t committed to meet a deadline. Deadline – means the line is dead. Please for the love of god … Fear the freaking word – it begs for you to fear it!!

Or at least run around like you need to pee when you are around me or I will knock you the %&@! out of the way!

Silver Paper and a Bow

2008-12-29T19:39:00.000-08:00

Call me 'It's a Wonderful Life' girl - but sometimes the greatest Christmas gifts couldnt be wrapped in silver with a bow. They can't be placed under a tree nor fit in any sized box.

The best gift is when anger melts like the end of snow and the stillness of just letting go is the loudness noise for miles. Left to hold cupped in your tiny hands is hope. A hope for something bigger then you and a silent prayer that somehow someone out there wishes along side you. Smiling to yourself on your own front porch you realize nothing compares to the reality of living and enjoying the ride.

Silver lining and a bow wrapped up in just... being. Being Alive.

Ode to the Bubble Burster

2008-11-12T10:25:00.001-08:00

Everyone has one. I am surrounded by them. You know this person – they are the kind that verbally high fives you then frequently changes there mind. You are an exceptional star and then you are not exceeding your potential. Right now millions of bubbles are being shot down in America. It could be happening to you at your local grocery store, sitting at your desk at work, and sometimes these bursters show up at your door. It’s really an unfortunate phenomenon. But the cure is simple my friends – just keep on creating new ones – one bubble at a time while chanting the word “FUCKER” in your head. I’ve mastered the antidote and now I am passing on the good word.

YES WE CAN

2008-11-05T10:56:00.000-08:00

No matter which party you side with – The United States of America made a historical leap tonight. The election results were a thunderous cry for a country’s change. “Yes We Can” was heard around the world as Obama made his speech, and although the cynic in me knows some behind-the-scenes great political writer was the reason for the eloquent speech, part of me really believed the man who spoke the words. As my emotions soared on the amazing historical moment taking place, I started wondering: What if a politician really meant the words he spoke? But better yet, what if the country believed he did? If we believed in change- could we create it? I have always believed our country needed an inspirational symbol; a leader who would remind us “Yes We Can” when we needed it most. This Individual could perhaps create awareness, a collaboration of hope for our future, and help Americans transform a new part of history. A President, A symbol, and a motivational speaker, reminds us we are the masses, and we can and should stand up and be heard. We are aware our struggle ahead is great and our country is in need of change, but if we become that change and truly listen, involve, and speak up great things can materialize. One thing is clear to both Republicans and Democrats alike - a new icon will reside in the White House. He says “Yes We Can” and cynicism aside my fellow Americans I believe we can.

My Little Pony

2008-09-03T10:37:00.000-07:00

I love my new car! More to come...

Happy Birthday Dad

2008-09-03T10:15:00.000-07:00

My dad's birthday today is on my mind, so I thought if I said something it would get out of my head. So there it is. Happy Birthday Dad.

I love Mondays

2008-08-04T10:21:00.000-07:00

Did she actually say that? Yes. Yes i did!! I absolutely love coming to work and starting off my week. The owner of MDS Architect has moved me to JM2 Investment Properties to help start out this new company that has quite honestly - just taken off. As you know I love Real Estate so this is a wonderful plus for me! Have you seen flip this house on TLC? Thats what I get to do.. including picking out fixtures for the houses we buy!! I love my job!!!! How often can people really say that? I know I am bragging.. but I feel so blessed!

My Apologies

2008-08-03T01:13:00.001-07:00

Like a snail I hide in my shell when the world becomes too much. I have noticed that more often then not, when wounded, in my shell is where you will find me. I hide from those that remind me of what exactly I am avoiding. I then become guilty I am hiding and then beat myself up about it. I’m coming clean from this flaw and going to try to make an effort to release myself from the guilt (spoken like a true psychologist eh?)

What am I hiding from and why? Seeing my brother in pictures with his little girl make me sad because they remind my of my father and I. Seeing how wonderful my uncle is with his two kids hurt me in a way I was unable to recognize or afraid to. Seeing my mother reminds me that my father is missing. It’s ridiculous, but I realized it is what I avoid because some days the pain of what I wont have, don’t have, and will never have is better left unfelt. I apologize to those who I love and distance myself from.

I didn’t realize I was doing it until I saw a picture of my brother holding his daughter on his lap and I remembered a very similar picture of years long ago. For a moment I hated everything that picture captured and then a wave of guilt flooded down my cheeks like a much-needed release. I knew in an instant what I had been doing. I’m not busy (an excuse I often use) I am afraid. Scared of seeing love given freely and unconditionally between father and child … because then this wounded child will see what she is missing.
Coward no more. I am sorry and I love you all!

Photo's in a Box

2008-07-27T22:58:00.000-07:00

I came across a photo of you in a musty box that smelled of memories from a long time ago and it made me smile. It made me wonder what my birth might have cost you and if the life you thought you'd have was changed. A marriage. A home. A love. Gone. A little girl wrapped in a pink blanket changed it all. Its been over a year since I last talked to you and I wonder what you might be doing now. In the photo father and daughter looked so content and now... there is a nothingness only empty shelves can hug. I just had to tell you somehow I missed you because now there is just a silence... a quieter bitterness of hurt. I miss you dad - some days more then others. Today I wonder... will there ever be a tomorrow when I see you again? What if the last time I hugged you 3 years ago leaving Utah was the last time I will ever hug you again or tell you I love you? Will all this silence matter when one of us is gone from this earth? Sometimes I tell myself I should have hugged you longer that day. I should have told you - indifference from you was my greatest fear. It would not have mattered. The mind sometimes has a hard time letting go and walking away.

Losing the Battle with Sense of Urgency

2008-07-14T16:52:00.000-07:00

There is a time and a place for a leisurely walk and I’ll admit I sometimes like to drift down a hiking trial in a somewhat state of a oblivion. However, it seems like I find myself struggling when I go anywhere not to stick my head out the window and scream “Move it Buddy!!” or “TaTaToday Junior” (One of my favorite lines from the movie Billy Madison)

The other day this gentleman was walking in a shopping center parking lot just gliding around in a state of what seemed like a medical induced stupor. If someone gave him a pair of ice skates I swear he could win a gold metal at the Olympics with his unique ability to put on a show. He was completely without any direction and oblivious to the fact that five cars were waiting for him to move out of the middle of the road. This walking coma stunned me when he stopped and took time to just reflect on his life.

Sometimes a little sense of urgency is the decent thing to do. How about glancing around and seeing if you might be in the way and moving? Don’t take the "I have the Right of Way pedestrian" crap so far. Yes, jackass we have to wait for you, but you have the wrong person behind you and the irritation might overwhelm them and the could ever so gently step on the gas...

Of course I wouldn’t do that… but admittedly I thought about it for a split second.

Clarification

2008-07-11T11:36:00.000-07:00

Apparently, some people seem to think this blog is intended to document the day to day life of my dog! This now has me in a fit of giggles! Let’s face it – the day to day on goings of a dog’s life would make a very boring blog: played with squeaky toy, drank water, ate food, slept and repeated. HA! No people! This is not what you will read here, so choke back those yawns right now!

I feel the need to Clarify – This blog is about my life... perhaps tid bits of Roxy because she is a positive beautiful part of my life. I look at Roxy and I see the world differently. No matter how south life is going, or how negative I’m feeling – Roxy is the permanent symbol reminding me with her playful loving nature to not take life quite so seriously. My hope is that this blog has a ‘Roxy spin on life’… even when the ‘Marissa spin’ feels like pulling up the covers and sleeping for a few years. Because, dear readers.. Roxy would never do that… everyday is way to exciting! Jump off the bed, wag your butt, kiss your mommy, and outside to smell the perimeter of the yard and make your mark on the world (or on the roses, fence, or the garden rake).

In a nutshell, my dog inspires me… I can think of worse things then that!

Roxy vs Lawn Mower Man

2008-07-10T10:30:00.000-07:00

We don’t like the gardeners! In fact, we more then dislike them - so much so - that we jump over the baby gates, and run around in circles screaming like a banshee by the front door. Barking to let them know just what we think of them! Yes, every Wednesday this is my life. Little Roxy Anne girl jumps over the baby gate which allows her all of the kitchen, laundry room and the family room. A doggie apartment palace if you ask me, but to her (as she nips and barks as you put the baby gate up) she thinks the baby gate is quite humiliating and reminds me daily just how much. Back to the point... Why is every Wednesday so delightful? Because the gardener Roxy’s nemesis invades her backyard and sometimes... god forbid our front yard. They have been having this one sided duel for quite sometime.

Yesterday (Wednesday) was hot! 111 degrees of sweltering stifling hazy heat. I was grumpy, tired, and as I pulled into my driveway I hear the banshee shrieking. My front door is one of those windows with the glass middle which allows you to be able to see inside. I love these doors they are so beautiful, but for privacy sake not very practical. Practicality aside, being able to see inside my house on this particular day was what prompted me to write this silly little blog.

Looking inside my impractical front door - I see a very disgruntled yorkie bounding downstairs growling and barking in a complete outrageous fit… with a strand of toilette paper wrapped around her tiny head. Her ears were up in a fierce pose and she her stance was ready to attack in case the perpetrators were to enter her domain and the ridiculous toilet paper killed her otherwise ferocious demeanor. Attacking the toilette paper seems to be part of the process to conquring the lawn enemy. Apparently toilette paper is what one uses as... a sword?!? Humm...

When I opened the front door she took one look at her hot grumpy mommy and ran into the room where she was suppose to be and curled into a ball and layed over. She could tell no matter what the lawn mower man did today - in 111 degree heat dont mess with mom!!

My lil toliette paper princess... God I hate Wednesdays!

Who is Roxy?

2008-07-07T10:24:00.000-07:00

What is the 'Grand Adventures of Roxy Anne Girl?!?!?' Let's start by telling you about Roxy and who she is. Roxy is my yorkshire terrier who is more then a 'dog' but rather - my side kick. She inspires me to give unconditional love, to see the simplicity in everyday life, and to make everyday really count. How can a dog do that?! If you have to ask then I suggest you spend sometime with one - not merly in ones presence, but really be with them and watch them. If we watch animals long enough we can learn very valuable life lessons.

The Grand Adventures of Roxy Anne Girl will be a collections of my happenings and my journey and hopefully make others smile, laugh, and cry along with me. To become part of my 'pack' just sit back relax and read our story.