This existence is singular. There are things I will never know in this life.

I will never know what it’s like to have a thin body. I will never know that privilege and the prejudice that comes with it. I will never know what it’s like to naturally fit in allotted seats and not spill over and have to squeeze my knees together to not feel like I’m invading everyone’s personal space. I’ll never know what it’s like to be “classically beautiful”, with a button nose and full lips and thick, full, glorious hair. I won’t look like the people on the TV and I won’t be wearing a bikini on a public beach in this lifetime.

I also will never know what it is like to be mistaken for another gender or to be “read” as a gender that I do not identify as. I won’t know the daily struggle and fear, and know the bravery it takes, to walk out of the house in a dress when you were born a man. The courage it takes to have body altering surgery to have your breasts removed because looking at yourself in a mirror feels wrong. 

I won’t know the assumptions that are placed upon someone because of ethnicity. I’ve been followed around a store, but I won’t know what it’s like to have someone assume I am either stupid, or good at math, or lazy because of the color of my skin. I can know people of every color and gender, and states in between, but I will never intimately experience their struggle except for their accounts of it and my own eye witness. 

I haven’t determined why I wake up with the urge to know all existence that I can. I want to live in all the cities. I want to sky dive. I want to see a country where the native language isn’t English. I want to write the great American novel. 

I will never know what it is like to not be a creative, to not have the impulse and ideas. To accept things at their face value. 

I wonder if I’ll ever know what it’s like to be loved. To honestly be just loved for who I am, not what I represent, not what I could be, not for what I am able to give. I wonder if there is a person out there who can be a matched set with me. I fear that in this lifetime, I am a “one woman show”. I woke up feeling empty in my bed, the other day, and I thought about the hard truth that, for most, from the beginning it is essentially a singular existence. You are born alone, into a world where everything is new and learned for the first time by you. A place where you start out not knowing the language or customs. When you fall asleep, even if there is someone next to you, they won’t actually be with you in your dreams. When you open your eyes, you are back to living in your own skin. When the moment comes to shuffle off this mortal coil, you can have grandchildren holding your hand (if you’re lucky), but that moment you close your eyes for the last time, you are truly on your own. 

I have yet to understand the purpose. I want to impart everything I have learned and learned to love onto the Earth in someway. If I write it or paint it, or teach it to a child. But in the meanwhile, I have a lot of lost time to make up for. 


Today I sat and listened to trills played by a world class violinist for a small group in the theater I work in. I looked up at the trompe l’oeil urns on the wall, higher than 2 men, and the imported cut crystal on the fixtures. I looked at the carved plaster bouquets, and again I found gratitude. I found welling up in me, in time to the melody, gratitude for my life.

I have struggled to find that gratitude. I have been stumbling heart broken. I am empty. I don’t trust anymore. It’s exceedingly hard not to see the tarnished side of the penny. Everything looks ugly and unappealing. 

But this moment, I realized that I get to spend everyday in a theater that inspires awe. People are amazed when I take them where I work. Everything is handcrafted workmanship by artisans. The carpet is a custom design. Sure, I think the fountain mermaids look like they are playing with their nipples and I can tell you the most secluded bathroom to use, but  the Christmas tree they put up every year is 2 stories high. 

And yet I can go from the opulence of the theater I work in everyday to displaying my art in a gallery that is being built from the ground up by the artists themselves. These amazing people have welcomed me heartily, with kind hearts and generosity, even as they struggle to have heat and keep the pipes from freezing in the cold. 

And in between of these worlds, is my existence. I am the cultivation of 34 years on this planet. I have read, watched, and listened. I give until it hurts and everyday I learn to accept what is given. I am rich, not in monetary terms, because despite being surrounded by imported marble, I make a non profit salary have no doubt. I am rich because I am loved by good people.It’s an eye opening moment when you profess to be at your weakest only to be met with an outpouring of support. I have a warm home and 3 cats waiting to see me with big eyes and unconditional hearts. 

I hold out hope. I haven’t given up that when the time is right, I will find someone who deserves everything I have to offer. But I will be more concerned with taking the time to figure out myself. I will fill my life with art, volunteering, and finding goals to conquer. I do not need to subscribe to someone else’s vision. In this new era, I will discover my own.

small poems


The following are entries into my sketchbook:

I Will

Today I will embrace the day.

Today, I will live the day.

Today, I will love the day.

Today? I will best the day.

Today I will work this day.

Today I will own this day.

Today I will DEFEAT This day.

Today, I will claim this day.

Today I will win the day.

This day I will prepare for today.

This day I will champion today.

Today I will face this day.

Today I will accept this day

(written 1/18/13)

The act of creating is as important as what you create. (written 1/19/13)

This existence is my own.

No one can live this life but me.

(written 1/20/13)

I wish I could stitch the pieces of everyone I love together in an amalgamation. A beautiful homunculus. A contradicting Frankenstein monster. (written 1/20/13) 



Just For Me


For Christmas I received a moleskin sketchbook. In the continued spirit of learning to do things for myself, in the sense of my own pleasure or learning, this sketchbook is just me for me. 

In the interest of sharing, here’s what I’ve done so far.



For the inaugural page I decided I wanted to do some etching. I covered the page in layers of oil pastel. Since I did the reds and oranges under the black, it inspired the flames and the rest spiraled off from there.



For my 2nd sketch I wanted to revisit the watercolors over white crayon. It was more successful on paper than it was on the canvas. I wish I had more of planned sketch, this was more of a doodle. But it was more of an experiment.



The 3rd page I wanted to do an actual sketch. I haven’t tried to sketch with any serious intent in a long time. I decided to work from a photograph of my cat.



For the 4th page I revisited the painting over glue. This time I did a rough sketch and used watercolors. Acrylics probably would have been more opaque. I then used oil pastel on the open spaces and etched to create the clouds.



The 5th page I decided to try blocking out spaces with masking tape and painted with watercolors.. I created the diagonal stripes by coloring the page with oil pastels, using more masking tape, and etching the diamonds. I really like this one, actually, it has a post modern feel to it. I thought about doing more work and judiciously decided to edit at this point and leave it be. 

I have more ideas, and I’m looking forward to creating more, even if I don’t know were the experiments are taking me.

Latest Efforts


Some more successful than others…

I did what was essentially a “holiday version” of the Mermaid Nails manicure I blogged about this Summer. I wasn’t going to post it, until my gynie complimented me on them…





It’s Leaf Him at the Altar by OPI with a dollar store multi green glitter and Milani gold glitter on top. 

Then I tried again to do the “ombre” nails. Well, to be fair, I’ve been anxious after my last failed attempt. Initially I was going to use loose eye shadow on top of a coat of white, like I had seen another blogger do, but I couldn’t find the original post. Instead I ended up find a tutorial about doing ombre nails with an eye shadow sponge.

It wasn’t difficult. The sponge works nicely, unlike when I tried to use a make up wedge sponge. I feel like following the tutorial, I didn’t end up with as much color as I would have liked. From a distance, it came off primarily white. 





It’s messy technique. You will require some clean up.







I’m still planning on doing a manicure with eye shadow and further practice with ombre nails in the future.

Right now, my nails are naked. This winter has not been kind. They’ve been peeling like the devil. I bought a bottle of Biotin, because I saw a post on Pinterest. I’ll let you know if it seems to be working…

Love Of A Cat


I started this painting last Spring. I began with by creating a pattern with overlapping circles.



I chose a cool color palette, with yellow for contrast. 



It was a long time between that stage and the next step. I moved across the city. Life kinda got in the way. I wanted to use a stencil, but after some thought, I also wanted to put a quote on it. 

The other day I was thinking about how I have a bunch of masking tape. And I thought that I could use that to create the stencil. I found a quote about a subject near and dear. 



“What better gift than the love of a cat?” — Charles Dickens

I also thought about not wanting to lose the pattern I had created, so I decided to cut around the letters and sponge black.





When I took the rest of the masking tape off, I felt like the quote wasn’t easily readable, so I decided to outline the words with a thin white line.





Because it’s for a friend, and I’m mailing it, I won’t be framing it. I hope she likes it.