first time ever


Two girls, autumn day, tea to go.

“So, I got crazy people living in my building and there’s this one woman who’s always throwing me shade. I’ve done nothing to her and yet, she looks like she’s ready to pounce on me.

And I’ve been reading up on the Trump-disaster this week and there’s this one journalist who talks about not getting bullied. Let’s not get bullied America, we will stand against it.

Well, that came into play for me yesterday — I see this woman from my building and for the first time, for the first time ever, I walked up to her and said, “Hello.” She huffed and looked away. And then I stood my ground and faced her, I asked, “Have I done something to you?” The woman looked at me with a kind of indignation and says, “Yeah, you fucked my husband.” I don’t even know who her husband is.

That’s not the point, I know this lady is not fully there, she’s taking some kind of heavy medication. That’s not the point. The point is, I stood my ground! I walked towards discomfort and fear and the Unknown and I faced it. That journalist is right. Trump can’t bully us and we can also see where we’re getting bullied on the everyday level and practice there.

It’s been on my mind a lot.”



the lowest hanging fruit


It’s inevitable.
It happpens ALL THE TIME.
And yet, it’s always news to us. It’s shocking, it’s disconcerting, it’s not what we anticipated.

Well, what did we anticipate? The ever-repeating known?

Change is hard.
It’s the “Don’t touch that piece of cake, you’re on a roll” and the “Stay positive and trust, damn it!”
Change is growth is change is growth is change is growth.

But yet, there’s a kind of preparation to it.
A kind of planning but then not.

It’s not waiting.
It’s not swaying in the wind.
It’s not trying to stomp it out. Well, we can’t.

Continue reading “the lowest hanging fruit”


mac n cheese breadcrumbs

Dear future,

What do you see when you look back at me?
Is it filled with sunsets and roses and overflowing abundance?
Is it complicated like a puzzle but significant when finished?
Do you see primary colors or shades within shades?

Future, I am observing my fear now.
I see how much She steps in and plays fiddle with my decisions.
I now see that dots have been connected and throughlines are emerging:
This and this equals the other this, which is why I do that.

Continue reading “breadcrumbs”

define the nightmare [Pt 2]

What is the absolute worst that could happen if you did what you want to do?

It would be like cutting shapes into the regular routine.
Getting filthy.
Swimming in the sweaty armpits and hands and pounding heart.
Saying NO to the Known Yes.

It’s about picking up the phone and not sending the email or text.
Putting myself on tape and sending it out into the universe —
“Hey Universe, this is me! Hi! I’m alive! I’m here at your service.”
It’s about trusting the GPS inside.

But get this, here’s the scary part.

Continue reading “define the nightmare [Pt 2]”

define the nightmare [Pt 1]

What is your absolute worst nightmare?

Ok, here goes.

I’ve been evicted, I’m now homeless.
I’ve lost my job, the roof over my head, family and friends.
I have nothing and no one.

I’m drifting.
I’m floating through existence, lost all contact with my desires.
I’m meandering through reality trying desperately to plant my feet.
Or maybe, maybe, my feet are cemented to the ground and the idea of flying, or being held up suspended in my creativity, is GONE.

Continue reading “define the nightmare [Pt 1]”

tectonic shifts



“Something’s shifted in me.”

She nods.

“The world is not the same anymore. And so my priorities aren’t either.”

“How will you move forward?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I know art will always be a significant part of my life, but it’s not going to be the same. I mean, I can’t see myself caring for, say, a Honda commercial when our lives are going to change forever. Everything we know as a given is going to be flipped on its head.”

“You make it sound like a tsunami’s going to hit.”

Continue reading “tectonic shifts”

5 things about Liza [Pt 5]


I’ve been in therapy for over 10 years, and with 2 different therapists I can safely say my feet are planted on the ground. Sometimes cemented. Thank God for childlike hearts in my life who keep my wings alive.

No matter how much I try, I can’t remember too much of my childhood. I rely on other people’s stories to remind me where I was, what I did, what I said, what happened.

In Australia, I wanted to be American. In America, I hold tight in keeping the Ozzie in me alive.

I wish I could do it all.

There’s a rumbling inside, I keep carving at the ice anticipating a shape will emerge.


Missed any? Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4?