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Things I learned this last year....



Some things I've learned in the last year of being single and living in Chicago.


Art in any form is what sustains my life.
It isn't who you know that makes you who you are.
Getting your heart broken, does not mean you won't survive.
All goals are attainable.
Friends are family you choose.
Never follow your fears, they will lead you astray.
Never follow your love, he will lead you astray.
Erica's Venn Diagram, was on target. You are the center of your world. Never orbit around another.
Being a Mac snob is ok.
Nothing is permanent. 
Permeance is a illusion.
Everyone has their own reality.
People really hate that I hate The Flaming Lips.
What I need, is inside of me. I can't gain that from others.
Life is amazing. It really is.
All we have is what's occurring right now.
Fall in love with yourself.
Never leave your purse on your car seat.
Focus on where you put your keys.
Three Floyd's makes an amazing beer.
I'm pretty f'ing good at research.
The past does not make me who I am right now.
I no longer want to be an architect.
Mice like to eat dog food.





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I got this writing gig for a website that focuses on Chicago events. I seem to be the youngster there, and so I offered to write about the things I love: music, art, fashion, and food. I'm really excited about it. I'm hoping this will add some credibility to my resume/portfolio, since all my writing has been strictly "creative" thus far. It's hard for me not to think in metaphors and try to stick to logic, but all I can think about is rhetoric=blech. I feel like things, like life, are starting to come together and come together nicely. 

I'm also trying to write a poem for a lit publication. This is the easiest form of writing for me. Poetry is nothing but one big metaphor usually, unless your William Carlos Williams, and then you just string beautiful simple words together. 

I've wanted to write about my Grandmother for so long, which I think will be the theme of this poem. She had this vast strawberry patch, which was actually more like a field than a small patch. If I taste, smell or even see a strawberry I think of her. I can't eat them anymore, the mere sight of one brings tears to my eyes. I think this will be interesting because when you think of this berry, the average person thinks of something sensual or sexual, but in my case it reminds me of loss and heartache. A fruit, shaped like a heart, the color of blood, her blood which rests in my blood.... I think I have something. I'll doodle something out tonight.

And... I want love lately. I've gone over a year without it. I'm ready to fall into something again. I even want the heart-break that accompanies it.  I'm ready to feel something again. I'm ready to be vulnerable... I think. I think. I think. Maybe.
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Quantum Waste

Last night my friends and I were hanging out at Bar DeVille, shooting pool, dreaming about opening up a bar across the street called "Lived Devil" and talking usual nonsense. We started taking photos and after reviewing the pics, we noticed tiny little orbs all over. I think Bar DeVille has some ghosts up in there.


These are two separate pics. Focus on the orbs. Stay with me here....




Now, I'm not one to really believe in ghosts, but this was a little creepy. Especially when I asked the aforementioned "ghost" to go in the corner, so I could take a photo of it. What do ya know? Who showed up? A small little orb, hanging out in the corner. Huh.
This also sparked a little conversation between Mori and I; the one thing we actually agree on. There is no such thing as ghosts, just pockets of energy. After some light reading on quantum physics and watching a documentary on a leading scientific parapsychologist, I've come away with the understanding that if an energy is strong enough, it can linger around. I'm not really talking about the energy of dead people and this idea that they can interact with us, more like the energy of memories. If intense enough, those memories sort of linger around, like quantum waste.

Apparently, there is a whole lot of good times and quantum waste that must be lingering around in the pool room.


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Today was one of the most beautiful days, and was topped off by a storm rolling in. I love these kind of days. I'm incredibly anxious for Fall to roll through and get down to business. I want to see some leaves on the ground already. I want to pull out my jacket. I want to bury myself under blankets, struggle to get out of bed in the morning, or drink some apple cider. Awwww, nostalgia.

I found out today that I write better in my car. Who woulda thunk? I pulled over, pulled out my MacBook, put the top down and started writing. I've been trying to write an article for this women's lit website for nearly three months now and have come up with nothing. Actually, I always come up with something but I'm always driving, or showering, or walking my dog... kind of inconvenient places to write. This time, I took advantage of the moment. I knew it would be awhile for those kind of ideas to creep into my brain again.

I came home and reread what I had written. I have decided I will always write in the car, always. Screw the coffee shops, screw my writing room, screw every single place that I have forced myself to write in. The car has won, hands down. Hands. Down.  

Where the hell did I pull this article out of? In a half hour straight of writing, with a little tweaking now, I think I did well. Usually how this all happens. I remember the poems, I won a scholarship for, were written in ten minutes, tops. I look back now remembering that I asked my advisor (after I won and beat out the competition) "are you sure you want to give this to me?". That's self confidence right there.


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I have to have this book.

The mysterious "red book" written by Carl Jung. Awesome.

I love that someone has actually shed light on the idea that some of the greatest minds (artists, writers, scientists, etc.) put themselves into a unconscious state and then something brilliant takes over and they are able to produce ideas that seem to come out of no where. The filter is removed.

This got me thinking about my own writing ability. Some of the best things I have written are when I turn off the filter, when I silence the little voice in my head that chatters away.

I need this book.
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Something about this song, it will become my theme song for this last summer. The lyrics, the sound, it's haunting. 
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New Magazine Idea


I have an addiction to magazines.  Along with my usual girly mags, I was sent a Playboy magazine by accident. I was really excited about it too. I do actually read the articles and enjoy them.  I'll skip the nudey pics of  what's her face from "The Hills", not because I think she's ugly, but because I think she's dumb.

Why are there not more women's magazines geared towards people like me: girls who enjoy reading articles about the so-called coming apocalypse, crude jokes, movie reviews that are not devoted to chick flicks and advice columns that are not completely focused on how to bag a man. 

I want to create this new women's magazine.

Here are some features that I have included in my first issue of this imaginary magazine: 

   Recipe: Jeppson Malort Cocktail- Yes, a shitty schnapps can be made to taste good
   Fashion: Finding Your Own Inner Style and Embracing It
   Home: How to Pimp out Your Apartment on a Budget
   Movie Review: Inglorious Bastards
   Music Review: Insert great indie band here
   Interview: The hot guy from Mashable, Pete Cashmore
   Technology: How the Snow Leopard Upgrade Changed My Life
   Gadgets: To Dual Screen or Not to Dual Screen, I say yes.
   So, This is My Life? (Think "Texts from Last Night")
   Politics: Is Obama the New Anti-Christ? One Crazy Conservative's View.
   Work: How to Do What You Love and Succeed at It, Entrepreneurial Style.

I'd also add in some really great art features and amateur photographers. 

Fashion would be street style only. It's not about keeping up with the Jones's, or Rachel's, or Lindsey's.... 

I will refrain from anything having to do with bagging a dude, because let me tell ya ladies, I've skimmed through a few men's magazines and there isn't a scent of desperation on those pages. There will be an advice column, and this is the only time females are allowed to ask questions regarding their relationships.

Wonder if anyone would buy it?
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Public Road

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      I live in Chicago. I freelance. I like music. I like to write. I love adventures. I love my life.
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