love, writing

roses are red, take care of your spleen



Buy yourself roses when no one else will. Remind yourself you are beautiful, you are loved. Even if its only by yourself.
home again

Sorry baby, but this feels like a break up.


When you leave, take everything with you. Tie up all the loose ends. Because its going to be a while if you’re ever together again. But Do Not go back just because you get lonely. Only go back if you can’t go forward. But me, I’m going forward. I’m going to try.




I’m not sure he knows I really even broke up with him yet. But I’m sure that he has the idea. He won’t be home for a week and when he returns, his world will be as he left it. Except in tiny ways, ways he might not even notice; I’ll be gone. I really don’t think it matters much to him though either way. And that’s why I had to leave. Because I started not to matter as much to him.



If there is one good think about baddie grannie winkle out there – don’t think you have a wordpress, but holla.- Its that I learned  I am a pink fucking starburst. And I should always be treated like a pink starburst. I’ve been feeling like a yellow one lately. And that’s gotta change. Hell, by the way he’s been looking at me I might as well be an orange starburst. A fucking purple one if they had it.



Actually, I love purple. But anyways that’s not the point.



The point here is that, your standards for who you love should be high. If someone drops the ball – yells at you til 3 am about band practices, ever invalidates your feelings by calling them ‘fucking ridiculous’ or EVER says something like “I used to like you a lot more before you started talking so much.” Girl, YOU LEAVE.


You pack up all your shit while they’re at work. Say goodbye, clean his dishes like he asked you to, take that $40 he offered you for doing them; you fill up your little free weed containers, keep the key to his house in case you need more, and you hightail your pretty little tight ass straight outta there.


Because for as fu$king crazy as men think women’s emotions are – they are just as much real as they might seem ridiculous. When I ask you to just hold my hand more, or like say nice things once in a while. That’s not really hard. I’ve had guys write me poems and love letters and drive through the night to come see me. Maybe I’ve been spoiled? No. I’ve been treated like a golden fucking goddess of love. And I earn it.



There is so much love that I just want to give, but when I don’t get it back it gets tiring.


Don’t wear yourself down for anyone. Not even if they can give you all the free weed you could ever smoke. Nothing is worth settling for less than you deserve.


Ah, but alas. Every relationship still serves a purpose. And I think this purpose might play out a little  bit longer than this blog entry. But no matter what I will not back down. I will stay posted up here on my pretty little pedestal until I’m wooed to come down. Because if you’ve ever been knocked down, torn down, or beat off it – you know how hard the climb back up it can be. And that’s a path I’ve taken just a bit too many times.




Roses are red, money is green
Boy are stupid and girls are mean.








smoke and mirrors
alternative media, writing

women in film

Most particularly I mean women making film.

producing, directing, writing.


and also award seasons. … why?


With a BIG OLE fat stinking CAPS LOCK W. why?

and where?

It has occurred to me, that yesssss the practicalities of this business I’ve embarked myself in provides deep canyons and hurdles along with massive onslaughts of gender stereotypes. And why is that? Well, its just, well you know that, you know, nobody had many women around “back in those days” of traditional indoctrinated values.

But, its not back in those days anymore.

So what’s up?

So what’s up?

I hope to think its really only award seasons. I know there are eons of talented women out there making real good stuff and getting real good stuff from it. That’s what’s important. What’s wild to me is that our mainstreamed media (which is all most of the sorry population ever sees) is shut off to a lot of these avenues of film and prefer to sit cozy in the boys’ club. Ok. That’s fine. Make your money makers. But for Pete’s Sakes, move over sometimes.

for the peoples’ sake I mean.

I’m getting pretty good at HTML so, government come find me! LOL. I will make too many political memes and Biden will call me a terrorist.

Really? swaying peoples’ opinion is now a terror threat?

holy fuck. forget women in film.

forget award seasons.

that’s a real talk to have right there. shit.

ANYWAYS. I’ll conclude with this. On my research to drop some dope knowledge about this subject I google search (god help us) “oscar winners directing” then as I’m typing “Women” FASHION started pouring and pouring into the stream. I couldn’t believe it. But it happened twice.

So ladies, here’s a thought. What do we want? Because if we keep feeding money attention and google searches into what women are wearing instead of what women are saying and making in film. What kind of role does that leave us in the conversation?

And, do we like that role?

Thanks for listening. This was a doozy.

Keep yours eyes on Biden.

Don’t let him touch you.


alternative media, mercury retrograde, relationships, sex and the city, writing

boys with blunts

Hello internet. I’m sorry I’ve been gone.

These past few months of hibernation hiatus have done me well. I’m back and with the realization that if I want to journal and proverbially vom my feelings into the internet – spare any followers and just do that shit at home.

I’m a writer. Like the Ms. BShaw. And holy hell, have I been writing. Scripts, stories, HTML, emails, everything. Every night. I come home and I type a fury like a motherfucker. Because eventually you have to wind up with something good right? Isn’t that was Ginsberg said? To be a good writer, you should just write constantly. You’ll come up with a lot of shitty shit, but every now and then you can hit it just right and make that paper sing. hell, even dance if you get it going a second time.

So I’ve been getting it a little right, a little wrong. But I like to think that’s how I live my life anyways; a little right, a little wrong. And I like it like that.

And hey – any time I get a discouraged about my writing. I just think- well fuck, Drake made it in the rap game. So I just need to sit tight and keep on working for mine.

Mr. Big. … that sonnofagun. Our souls are tied in the strangest way. To be honest. I’ve found it hard to have that kind of penetrating, permeating, crazy psychic kind of obsessed in love with anybody else but him. Is that right? Is that love? Or is that psychosis? Because we don’t speak. So how do I even know that he feels this way about me.

He’s in a whirlwind. He’s an aries, so the only person that he is psychically, cosmically in love with is himself. I’m his Libra side chick for life. Is that an honor? To be a lifey side chick? They still need you in a way, yeah? Don’t know. Can’t understand. Don’t care. Can’t be bothered with it anymore.

Speaking of can’t be bothered with it anymore – how about this Mercury Retrograde. Jesus, Lord, Goddesses of the Mother Earth – please save me. Its just about over now. We’ll feel lingering effects until the second week of March, but Holy Yeezus Lord above. This was a tough one.

I’ve unofficially moved back into my own apartment from the merry prankster man cave. I think that life can work that way. But for some reason I’m just not entirely ready. So I’m livin. I out here.

I found myself doing his dishes more than I even do my own. I have a dirty coffee mug in my sink probably from before I even went to Hawaii. Just kidding, that’s gross. But – really. Maybe a wine glass I don’t know. I’ll probably got ebola from it. oh well.

I was domesticating myself and he wasn’t even asking me to. I thought that’s just what I should do. I thought – well he goes to work and works hard with his body and paints things and moves things and fixes things. So since I’m staying at his house and smoking all his weed – I should cook or clean or fold and put away his laundry.


– _ –

Amy Poehler would be so disappointed in me.  Wow, spellcheck corrected her name for me. You’ve made it Amy. I idolize you also. ok awkward.

So disappointed. Looking back on my madness I’m a little disappointed in myself. Like, who do I really think I am? I can’t be some kind of happy housewife, I’m a motherfucking lunatic!!!! and it drove me mad. it drove me absolutely mad. We almost broke up. I blamed it on the retrograde and his psycho hotmess ex gf (who tried to fight me BTW and got it bad in the face instead. PWND) But really it was all about suppression. I was cooped up in a house that wasn’t even mine! It was the worst feeling. And I can’t pin it on him. He’s great.

I felt like a caged bird, but I put the bars there myself. I would think “well this is what you do for love. you compromise. you sacrifice.” and yes. that’s true. but uhhhhh we’ve known each other only like 3.5 months. I do not need to be fucxking doing your laundry.

SO. to save my sanity and see if we can save this relationship. I’m not doing it anymore. I might not ever want to do it ever. Because why? I’m a lunatic. I don’t need this shit.

I gotta keep it going with the writing. A lot of times when people learn you work from home, they look at you a little different. Its like public school kids who thing that homeschooled kids sit on their ass all day and play video games.

Now if they really doing that, how’d they beat you in the spelling bee?

south park.


social media

what the fuckbook

like, really bitch? really?

that’s to nobody in particular. stop sweating. but really. really. really

is it just me or is social media getting to be  the drunk friend that won’t leave? Really?!

Between crazy exes and long lost loves. I’m just about ready to pull the plug. Not to mention that my used to be best friend works the fuck out of her pages to make her life seem like its just going on perfectly forward without me. Not even like the slightest flinch of a tear. No time wasted. On to the next.

so I’m a little sore. about a lot of bitches doing a lot of stupid shit. I’m one of them. I’ve been missing my best friend and adjusting to a lot of new patterns in my world. I can’t say its been entirely easy.

Social media is honestly becoming almost as strong as television with its brainwashing techniques. But what the trippy thing is WE are brainwashing OURSELVES. We project these perfected and rehearsed words and images to our instashams, our fuckbooks, and we convince others who look at our stuff – that Yes. This is my life, and it does look this perfect.

But its not. Its really, fucking, not. Its selective sharing. Unless you’re a true psychopath- power to you- you’re not going to post about getting too drunk and screaming at your friend who just tried to throw you a fucking birthday party, you’re not going to post about your debit card getting declined, and you’re sure as hell not going to admit, that you have any experiences that aren’t, weird, hip, interesting, and cooler than everybody else.

But you do. We all have buttonholes, and shit does in fact come out. Except for mine, of course.

I shit rainbows.

its on my blog

believe it.



booze news

welp I’m on my second beer at 3:00.
so let’s see how the fuck this goes.


I’ve come up a bit I guess you can say. If you’re into talk of the spiritual kind. I did a. lot. of meditation and healing in Hawaii and I always do work on my spirit when I’m home anyways. Maybe it had nothing to do with the location. Maybe it was just time.

I’ve had some serious epiphanies. And I guess if you’re psycho like me, you have something like one every other day.

one – TCA, needs animation up the ying yang. 21 different sequences to be exact. And that’s flipping fan.tas.tic because that adds WHAT?! about 21. minutes. onto the rn 60min fuxking feature. BOOM.DONE. NEXT ONE?

I’ve been writing again, if you can’t tell.the obnoxiously realized arrogance does it for me. finished on that. thank u.srry.


(I’m never finished. you should know that)


I’m not sorry. In case you can’t disregard words written in parenthesis. SEE?! Even still, now, while trying to be a bad ass- accommodating.

Its a blessing and a curse. A lot of things – I might have, are a blessing and a cursing. But I want to just bend over til I break for the people I like – I don’t even have to love. If I love you I’ll die for you. Just like you? Well. I’ll let you know the bullet is coming – REALLY ENTHUSIASTICALLY. but dodge it.

OK. So here we are, drunk already on a Friday afternoon with a  trailer to work on and some scripts to write up. How much do we let people upset us before we have to draw a line in the sand?

I already know I should have drawn it. But today is not the day to say something. Tomorrow? Hah. maybe. Knowing me I will build fantasies in my head about what I can say and then let it all fall into course. Doing nothing, is an option. That is always an option.

And its really good to know your options.

all of them



mahalo hawai’i

hawai’i was magical. didn’t have a doubt going in about that.

the mystical, mythical land of pele and her sister goddesses healed me and opened up my throat chakra with all their white light magical goodness. and I think I’ve taken a little bit of the aloha spirit with me back to the mainland. more so than what I had of it before anyways. shaka shaka man. can I get another one?!


drummed a djembe with the rainbow people of cinder town. hit up seven different beaches in five days around the big island. picnicked near the most active volcano in the world. and got tuned in to the vibrating, living, growing island life. The Great Island.

also weathered a hurricane camping in an A-frame where we were later evicted by an angry park ranger. did enough yoga to get my full split. (yes!) sat next to a fat fuck on the airplane. met living sisters of the volcano goddess. got a spiritual cleansing from a conch goddess in wood valley. saw a Buddhist temple vibrate without any drugs, just god. rode in the back of a pickup truck with auntie alicia, the granny hitchhiker. and had a gaddamned blast.

If you like acoustic guitar, beatboxing and meaningful lyrics – listen to Dustin Thomas. brought him home from island in the form of his album Mountain High:

you take the earth, it takes you too.
you’re not prepared for what it takes from you.
and if your gardens full of pesticides,
you make a prison out of paradise.


I’m not ashamed of what I am
I cut my ties with the things I dread.




something special & santa fe

hiatus is over.

at least for today.

sitting in the airpot in ABQ. on my way to Hilo International to see a friend living by the lava. There’s a child screaming thirsty for aqua and one of my lifelong best friends is now a married man.

life is good. I am happy. and I just want to write.

There is a lot to write about. A LOT has happened in the stoner girl diaries. A lot of continued growth to look forward to. I met a True 2the core Merry Prankster like me. Its been incredibly revitalizing. I’ve never met a deadhead who made me so alive. There’s a whole new outlook on life when you have love. When you have unquestionable commitment, understanding, and total acceptance. Its really something special and I’m a lucky girl.

I got a little preview of what a love ceremony looks like. and OMG. it was tear jerkingly beautiful. I sat between two of my very close girlfriends, passing a handkerchief and whimpering like love filled babies. It was just such an experience. The temple, the words, the love, the support and the absolute mayhem and debauchery that ensued shortly after. I’ve got to say – Congratulations Bob & Mischa. You guys are both beautiful on your own, and so, so beautiful together. I wish you a life of happiness and love.

And here I am. About to leave New Mexico Land of Enchantment, on my way to another mystically magical part of our world Hawaii. I told myself when I finished this film I was going to take a long vacation and rediscover the spiritual side of myself and try to make it even stronger. I want to take time and rediscover what I want, what it is that drives my life. I’m not convinced you need to travel in order to do any of this – but it sure as hell helps. Its about high time I got away from it all. I’ve never flown, I’ve never traveled alone. Its liberating.

I also want a tan in January. fvck the haters.

I only spent three days in Santa Fe, but I know what they mean when they call it the Land of Enchantment. There’s something about the soul of the city that has been untouched by time. The combination of Native, Spanish, and modern culture is incredible and balanced. I really, really, had a wonderful time. Connecting back with old friends, watching rituals of love and celebration, and seeing the sunset form the cross of the martyrs on our last night. I feel now like I already know what it is that I really need out of life. And I think its just the same as everybody else. I also think that I’m really, really lucky to know that’s all it really is, and that its so easy to find, and that it is infinite. and that its love.

more adventure awaits.

can’t wait to see what I find.