holiday shopping

if you are stuck for a gift idea, commission a portrait or original piece of art by me!

or hop on over to to check out the books i have available.

and don’t forget to check out my “love for sale” page for ready-to-ship original works of art!

i am the walrus

i am not a monster
thought sometimes
i am monstrous
i am a mother
a sister
a friend
a lover
a neighbor
an artist & writer
an original
i am creative
sometimes i am patient
sometimes i am not
sometimes i am calm
sometimes i am a hurricane
i am a warrior
a sacred being
a gardener
a hiker
a yogi
sometimes i am perfect
sometimes i am a work
in progress
sometimes i am broken
but most of the time
i am healing

i was laying on a table getting energy work/chiropractor stuff done when i started asking myself, “who am i?” which of course triggered a flashback to the breakfast club (hence the title.)
nonetheless, i just kind of started listing things.

this is the second in a row lady in a red dress. i never wear red (i do not have the right coloring for it) but red definitely symbolizes something to me.
it’s definitely a look-at-me color…. maybe i am feeling bold despite myself?

(“kryptonite” played on my mix as i posted this…hmmm)

the dance

it’s not
two steps forward & one step
two steps forward
duck & cover
two steps forward
go to my safe place
take a nap
think about it more
always moving forward
in my own way
inching forward
on my one

after posting the “i feel pretty” trilogy, i had to hide away for awhile. i felt terribly exposed & not just a little vulnerable.
exposing myself, like i do here, is not easy for me. it often sends my anxiety into overdrive.
so i take a break… a break from healing? but the break from healing, of course, is part of the healing.

i’m still out of sorts…but tis the season for that, i suppose….

a new moon

from the crescent moon
i learn
to focus
to discern
the fragile light
from the boundless blue
to find an eyelash
of hope
but growing brighter
but growing bolder
with each day
with each
from the crescent moon
i learn to hear
the whisper of magic
in the chaos
of the every

today is the birthday of my brother who was killed by the republican party 14 years ago. i will bake him a cake & drink a beer with him & watch an action flick with my kids who know we spend this day with my dead brother.
it never really gets easier, losing someone, you just have to learn to live life as a person who lost someone. live the best way you can.

over the river & through the woods

to candice, thanksgiving had become a torturous holiday of infighting, smoke filled rooms, droning televisions, & overcast skies inside & out.
food the color of the carpeting in her maternal grandmother’s sad apartment.
uncomfortable silences and meals that sat heavy long after thankfulness was forgotten.
all her boyfriends took it personally that she would not follow them on their annual treks to the houses of relatives who would make jokes at someone else’s expense causing candice to flinch from her invisible corner as some of the barbs (i’m just joking! can’t you take a joke?) hit a little too close to home.
candice dreamed of a day that the third week of november would blend seamlessly into the rest of late fall, no longer poking at the scars of her so-far survival.

so i have some thanksgiving baggage. i stopped going to my family thanksgivings as soon as i was able. i stopped eating turkey. i sought out thanksgivings full of music & non-traditional dishes with people who were also orphans of society.
one year, boycotting my first (& estranged) husband’s beige & dry family thanksgiving, i went out to a bar & asked everyone what they were doing for the holiday until i found a cutie who was going to a get-together of friends (hosted by a local chef.) i tagged in on his thanksgiving. the rest of that thanksgiving is a story for another day….
i like cooking (this year i tried to make potstickers for the first time) and i like drinking and i like hanging out with friends…but i still dread the holiday each year with flashbacks to a colorless palate of foods & people who were only spending time together out of obligation.
one day i hope i have banished all feelings of suffocation this holiday brings to me.

a fairy tale life

i am searching
for a way
to tell a story with my art
as the true story of me
unwinds in my heart
& head
with a new voice
i try to find
the best path

my process for this one (& for “escape”) is to stain a piece of watercolor paper, find an image in the stain, and bring that image/story to life with pencils, oil pastels, ink, & acrylics.
i like what is happening.
& it is kind of a blend of techniques i have used as well as new approaches to art.
maybe i should throw in some collage?
i guess as i figure out who i am…i figure out how to express what i need to express.

9X12 ink, oil pastel, pencil & acrylic on watercolor paper…suggested price of $75

what now?

i was thinking about how i am reluctant
to sketch more ponies
right now
even though i think
i do a good job of it
& it might have more mass appeal…
i think back to that art professor
who was all like
but what do you
want to be doing?


creating stories with my drawings
telling stories
crafting worlds
& characters
merging my art & writings
in the most perfect way

drawing these pictures,
i wondered, who are they?
what do they want?
what would i do if i set them

puzzle box

who i am
how i do my art
how i see myself
it’s like
one of those puzzle boxes
where you move
one piece
all the other pieces
that seem to be
but in reality
are creating
a bigger picture.

something is shifting inside of me. which is awesome, but i have to remind myself that just because i finally start moving, i can still get stuck again…or often, when one problem is fixed, another rears its head.
so now that i am starting to heal the ugly me & let her believe she is pretty, who will show up next?

i feel pretty III

i used to worry
that people
would think that i think
that i am
i think
i will go ahead
& know
that i am
& not give a rat’s ass
whether they agree with me
or not.

i’m not going to go out & join any pageants or put together head shots for modeling…but i am going to stop ducking my head & acting like i’m offending people by showing myself in public.
so far so good

i feel pretty II

if i am ugly
my feeling
like a misfit
i am more
as a pariah
than as a
i created
a monster persona
shave my head
bare my teeth
you best steer clear
of me
(they i can know
why i feel
so alone.)

i keep thinking back to when i started feeling this way. feeling like i didn’t belong & was surely the ugliest thing ever. a lot of it happened in grade school. i was a sensitive child, & i was weird. other kids didn’t really get me. so maybe it was easier for me to tell myself i was ugly?
easier than believing there was something deeper causing my pain?
my parents sabotaged my ego
my peers finished me off
& i stomped on any good parts of me that survived the rest of it….

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