Month: January 2017

SOS & A Link-Up

Peekaboo. I see you, world. Do you perhaps see me too?   As always, I’m in a hurry. A mad dash. January has seen very few posts from me, I  know. Few and far between. And whilst the reason for that is a good one, infrequent posting, as we are all fully aware, marks the beginning of a downward spiral for any blog.  Wouldn’t it be wondrous if cloning were an available (and affordable) option?  Imagine the myriad of things we could undertake.  Simultaneously.  And with great efficiency. What’s been transpiring, you ask? Well, I say “good” because I’ve been blessed to have connected with many new partners over the last few weeks, since before Christmas, actually.  Which, in turn, has led to numerous conversations and discussions and planning.  All heavenly, beautiful events that will help me grow as a writer and brand. And all of which have taken my time away from the main reason those partners chose to seek me out in the first instance. IRONIC, YES? How do they do it? Those …

Is It Black, White Or Grey?

A simple question. How do you set your standards?   How do you define your ethics?  Determine whether something is black or white?  And when does grey come into play?  Let me briefly explain. SOMEONE TRIED TO SCREW ME OVER Yeah.  It had to do with that unholy triad. You know, trademark, money, and, well, blatant stupidity. Anyway, that unpleasant incident led to a series of conversations between me, myself and I, as we extensively dissected ways and means in which we would could handle the protagonist whom I shall call PITA (pain in the ass). The following thoughts were raised:- >  PITA started out as a groupie.  A major fan.  So that means she must have a good heart underneath all that, well, nasty back-stabbing bitchiness.  Right? >  Maybe she truly doesn’t know what she’s doing is illegal? >  Yes, PITA acted in very poor taste.  She was unethical, to say the least, but perhaps, just perhaps it was unintentional? >  Or, dare I say, imitation is the most sincere form of flattery? On …

A Week In My Life 3 & A Link-Up

Peekaboo. I see you, world.   So, after a brief hiatus (ish, my last life post was dated 18th November), I’m back again with a wee peak into the happenings going on in my tiny, not so eventful world.  That said, quite a few things have occurred since my update of 6 weeks ago, friend. First of all, remember Elliot?  My massage therapist? Well, he resigned from the practice a few weeks ago.  Apparently, he had been paying off his ex-wife’s IRS debt (I don’t understand it either), and concluded he simply wasn’t earning enough with his current employer to be able to do that as well as afford a new sports car (huh?).  So he decided to leave and find work with The Joint (a chain of “fast food style” chiropractic outlets).  I don’t know about you but this guy has me shaking my head in bewilderment quite a few times. Then on Christmas Eve, we had our traditional family dinner at the nearby McCormick & Schmick’s Seafood and Steaks Restaurant (pictures here).  On …

Self Love Is Effed Up

I’m not joking. It can be seriously effed up.   Here’s a very important note to remember.  Loving yourself doesn’t guarantee that you will be loved right back.  How’s that for a curveball? Indeed.  Self love? IT’S A TRICKY TERRAIN, MY FRIEND We can shout it out from the mountain tops.  I Love my curves!  I Love my crazy!  I Love my attitude!  I love everything unique and different about me that makes me, me!!  All the while, we’re looking out of the corner of our eye to see if everyone else is loving us for our curves, crazy, and attitude. It’s as though if I love me, then maybe YOU will love me too, right? Not necessarily. And why? Because humans are really screwed up when it comes to love.  BEAUTIFULLY, irresistibly, and understandably so utterly messed up about it. You can attempt to love yourself in spite of not being loved the way you want (note use of the word “spite”, not precisely the most empowering, positive phrase, right, and we’re already off …

I Resolve To

Not make resolutions. It’s a recipe for immediate disaster.   I’m fully aware that this is all psychological. And that calling a rose by any other name doesn’t make it any less than what it actually is, a rose.  That said, over countless years of drawing up list upon list of resolutions (and failing dismally to fulfill any), this MO seems to work better for me.  This renaming of resolutions as intentions.  Or desires.  Or to dos.  When I peg them as resolutions, my mind instantly conjures up the first day of a new year.  And that’s precisely how long those resolutions are remembered.  24 hours (if I’m lucky).  It’s as though if they’re called resolutions (or goals), they become more like, well, wishes.  And hopes.  Not focused, determined commitments to achieve or acquire (or rid oneself of) things that are of immense value, tangible as well as non tangible. AM I MAKING ANY SENSE? Is it the very same with you?  Or am I essentially writing a truckload of poppycock? At times, I wonder, …