Painful Pause

Therapy looks so much cooler on TV...

...This has been THE hardest week of my life.

This is the story of how tiny little hiccups all came together to bring me down to my knees.

The shortest explanation I can muster: Got a sinus infection. Doctors didn't believe me. Vertigo set in. Trying to fight the infection sans antibiotics led to body breakdown. Was taking meds at the wrong time...that combined with crazy fatigue led to night terrors four days in a row. Don't know if you've ever experienced a night terror, but they are terrifying. I'd wake up multiple times a night screaming for Jersey, convulsing and crying...I spun into deep depression.

I've been so scared and not in my right mind. I have nothing creative in me...I'm a shell of myself trying to heal as best I can. I see the world carrying on and I'm just stuck in my own head...trying to find my way out of the utter fear that's permeating every inch of my body. Trying to get lots of rest...took some time off of work. FINALLY got some antibiotics....

More than anything I'm focusing on the word balance. Our bodies are so delicate...Hiccups. I cried to my doctor scared that this right here is what I can expect for the rest of my life. He seems to think it won't be...I want to believe his words more than anything.

I don't know when the "me" will come back...when words will eagerly spill out of my head and find their way into my quirky little blog. Just gonna rest...and think...and try to be patient...and cherish every damn moment I feel like me. Never take that for granted...

"Perpetuating an Epidemic of Disconnection"


I'm in love with Thandie's thoughts on self and otherness...oneness and connections. This will be one of those videos I have to listen to over and over again until the words start to melt into my skin. I like to feel these kinds of truths as organically as I possibly can.


"The truth will set you free. But first, it will piss you off." ~ Gloria Steinem

So true too...

Currently reading Think by Lisa Bloom.

XX Chromosomes ♀ Finding She

Something lovely has been building lately...

I love being a woman and having strong, dynamic and loving women in my life. I admire our spirits, our gifts and our ability to connect and empathize. I was taught to honor my friendships and honor I do. I can't help but notice that as I grow older that belief in honoring women grows stronger as well.

Without being a total downer, I  can say that while honoring women is necessary, embracing all is not. I've learned the hard way that this is so. That realization has been difficult, but necessary. They say that the universe will provide once you make room. I'm now a believer! I let go and then phenomenal women promptly started popping up in my life...leaving me with precious knowledge.

The first woman is my current work mentor. How often is it that you meet someone who's willing to encourage and assist with your career? Seriously! Sadly, I don't know a lot so I was totally loving up Mentor's lessons. She offers up books to read. She goes over projects I'm working on and helps me look at the bigger picture. She tweaks my work and allows me to pick her brain about life in general. She's one of the big reasons why I actually listen on conference calls now. Talk about an impossible pickle to chomp on...

The second woman I'll call Milly. Milly is actually a friend of Jersey's who took me aside last week. Have you ever met someone who literally lights up a room when she enters? You can actually tangibly feel her good energy radiating its way out of her? Milly is a force of sunshine not to be reckoned with...definitely one of those rare women who actually feels comfortable in her skin and her capabilities. She spoke to me about my writing and what it means to her and others...she pressed me to realize my gifts...said she'd shank me if I didn't realize who I am and what I'm capable of. I mean inspiring, lovely words that pushed their way into my heart so hard the tears came out with heart beats.

It's lovely when people look into you and say, "I see you. I really, truly see you." It was a conversation that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

The third woman, K, sent me an email pertaining to a previous blog post. K is this brilliant brain whose words capture the ears of everyone in her midst. She's smart, funny, personable and genuine. When that kind of woman takes the time out of her busy schedule to play catch up, I smile the good smile--The wise smile that forces me to raise my head up and let the light shine in.

Women are so quick to judge, so quick to sling hurtful words blindly into once full hearts. We have the ability to rip and so many times we do just that...evolving into visceral monsters--perverse replicas of what we should have become...strong.

That's why you should honor those who encourage your ascents. Beautifully simple intentions are the spoons full of sugar necessary to survive in this world.

Flower + Truck

Photo by Jersey

Jersey has always had this unbelievable eye for a good shot so I figured I'd start bragging showing off some of the stuff that makes me swoon...and forget that he is quite insistent that we wash his plastic forks and spoons (I throw them the trash...where they belong...when he's not home)

...Also helps me forget that he listens to really bad booty masogynistic rap crap occasionally...and can't seem to remember to stop a gal from going into the bathroom right after he's given birth to the most fowl stink babies you can imagine on your worst day.

His work helps me forget all that.

...Not so sure that's a good thing, though now that I'm truly processing all of that. They say love is blind, but they never really mentioned butt aroma tolerance, now did they?

Luv and Kiwi,



This past weekend really was pretty dang awesome. Friday, of course, was Dolly and that alone could have kept me nice and happy for the rest of the mini vacay from work, but the Big Guy Upstairs was being generous with the happy happy and just kept dishing out the sweet stuff.

On Saturday morning Jersey and I got up and skipped our way into a Verizon store (kind of like how they skip in the movie The Wiz.) It was there that he bought an iPhone. Doesn't seem like a big deal, right? Well it IS if your boyfriend happens to be the LAST person you know who hasn't switched over to a smart phone! Dude can't let go of his ish now. He used to tease me constantly for loving my Poppins more than him (that's mostly untrue)...We went for brunch after his purchase and he sat there the whole time adding apps and asking me questions about his baby. I had to even explain to the waitress it was his first day in the 21st century. She proudly whipped out her iPhone baby in solidarity. We're a strange mafia...I admit this freely.

We followed that fun with some Sur la Table shopping (BPA free tupperware sale in the hizzouse!!!) and then raced back to the casa de kiwi to prepare for the night. What night you ask? Outdoor Cinema Food Fest that's what! We called upon our homies in crime: E, her boyee and the Loverchinis a couple weeks back and asked if they'd be down for watching Reservoir Dogs. They said yes and we said sweet!

And then we all lived happily ever after that night eating great food truck food, shivering under blankets and laughing our butts off. I had never seen that particular Tarantino flick...It was most excellent. There should have been a Mr. Green, but overall I enjoyed the classic Q.T. shots and story. Now I'm itching for some Kill Bill action.

Sunday we met up Diva Dara and her family at this gorgeous, perfect church we attend sometimes. She's currently shopping places to baptize the little one. I recommend that all new parents bring their babies to churches. I LOVE the sound of a baby's laugh in such a place. Nehe shrieked with joy when the music would start up and then he'd squeal and kick his foot to the beat. (Clear case of the little g feeling the Holy Ghost up in THUR!)  Nothing could ever sound as sweet...

 After we grabbed some burgers at one of our local hangouts and reveled in our lovely weekend. It just couldn't have been more perfect. The weather in Santa Monica has been brisk...perfect for walking hand-in-hand with your fella and talking with the locals...grabbing some of THE most beautiful flowers for 8 dollars and people watching.

Jersey even admitted he loved our hood...and then I exitooted. (That's when you toot out of excitement.)

His name is Jersey, people. THAT right there was a defining moment. That's one step for man...One HUGE GIANT leap over a pond full of poo for mankind.

Luv and kiwi,


[photos by Jersey]

Dolly in the Bowl


Dolly Day was one of my favorite LA days by far. Not only did I get to share it with a kindred soul, but she came sportin' a '67 Mustang convertible so that we could arrive at the Hollywood Bowl in La La Land style.

Her hubby is one of those men who loves to cook...and when I mean he loves to cook, I mean he actually LOOKS happy while he's doing it. The man has passion for the spices...passion for the flame and that romance results in food that makes me wiggle like a worm on a hook.

He packed us two chickens. Diva Dara made this caprese spread, fruit salad...It was pure perfection. As soon as one of my other pals, Maria, showed up it was on and popping. We laughed, cried, sang really loud and looked on in awe. She was some kind of amazing.

She's a phenomenal entertainer; there's no question about that, but she's also this spiritual goddess. I wasn't prepared for that. She was so endearing and wise...

She told us all to stay focused on our dreams, shared the stories of her childhood in the Tennessee Smoky Mountains and even rapped at one point. Crazy ISH!

Perfect Night.


Who would have thought that tiny little jerk-like crystals in my ears could turn my whole frickin' frack world upside down...literally!

I'm experiencing this weird ish called vertigo which basically means the world spins around me as I sit here. You think it sounds groovy, but it's HELL I SAY!!! I can't think. I can't write...and today is the day I get to see Dolly at the Hollywood Bowl so I'm pretty pissed at my body's timing.

So if you don't hear from me for awhile it's simply because I'm bonding with those special little kids that like to put pots on their heads, spin around really fast, and then bump their metal covered noggins against walls. Misery loves crazy, after all.


When I was a little girl I lived in a tiny little trailer with my young, sweet mother. I knew even then we didn't have much money...I'd see the people on TV...notice that everyone else was driving while my mom and I were walking in the one paying us any mind.

I never knew this was a bad thing, though because every night when I went to bed my mom would tuck me in and sing this one song... "Back through the years I go wonderin' once again..." and my excitement would grow. I loved that story...the tale of a little girl who had to wear a coat made of old rags to school and how she was so proud because it was made with love.

I swore up and down that this woman named Dolly wrote this song for me and my mom and I felt so special and loved. You would have never been able to convince me back then that being poor was something to be ashamed of.

Sadly I went to school and became a brat...I let the shame set in and would hang my head (and grow angry with my mom) when the kids at school would tease me for my knock off shoes and my Walmart clothes, but then I'd come home and hear her humming that song and that love and innocence inside would pop back up until one day it came back for good and the shame took a back seat.

And THAT is why I love Dolly Parton so VERY much.

Jersey came home from work yesterday and jokingly told me that one of his friends had found out that I, a black woman, was geeked to see this woman in concert. He he had found that strange and hilarious. "Really?! Tish likes country?...WHY?!"
...And just like that my smile dropped. I, of course, had to explain to Jersey once again why I loved her...just in case he too felt like laughing at the black girl anomaly. Then I told him I wished his ignorant little friend would have laughed in my face. I wish I could have been there to ask what a black woman should be listening to. (You know, since I obviously hadn't received my black woman's handbook!)

I honor my mixed heritage; but most of all, I honor, love and admire the white mother who gave her young daughter the words that helped shape her...the words that gave her bravery and backbone to boot.

Sad that I wanted to shove all that love right up that man's confused and stupid ass. (Pardon the princess talk) Music was never meant for boxes and definitely never meant for only specific ears to hear.

Friday night I will be at the Hollywood Bowl listening to Dolly...that brilliant songwriter and performer with my friends. In case you're there too, I'll be the mixed chick tearing up in the middle section.

I'll be thinking of my mom and a sweeter time...Heart and ears wide open.

A Little Picasso

Last weekend I got to chill with some awesome little runts by the name of Chuck, Brook Brook and Junie.

I've been babysitting since I was a wee lassie so I've pretty much got kid stalking down cold. Chuck's a teen so she just did her own thing, which meant I needed to actively listen to her discuss her just want to know they matter, ya know? Junie is 11 months old so he pretty much watched Despicable Me and laughed into his bottle while Brook Brook, the soon-to-be threebers looked to me with all the sass she could muster and asked what in the heck I was gonna do to entertain her.

Enter stage right THE iPAD! (dramatic trumpets!!!)

I love Stella the iPad, I do, but I'm not really a fan of kids shoving their faces into one to play brainless video games. For me, that meant finding her something that would engage her brilliant little mind.

(Enter Stage Right!) I found art apps and a happy child I most certainly saw. She doodled and edited her work for hours...
I love three-year olds... No one's told them yet that there's a right and wrong way to make art. No one's stomped on their little minds' imaginations. You tell them to go for it and watch as their little eyes light up as their little worlds come to life.

Brain Fart

Sometimes sharing pain is a good thing. Exposing your shortcomings doesn't always harm...sometimes verbalizing the cracks spawns the necessary room for a new bigger and stronger you to grow through and out of...

Need: Use that Four Letter Word Wisely

I have a dear friend whose very breaths can cast spells over the words she speaks. If one were to kiwi-ify that, he or she would say that she pretty much spits sparkles whenever she's gabbing with the Universe at large. She'll mention she needs something...tell a few people of this said need and VOILA! Sparkles start bouncing around all sticky-like and before she can say, "Mary Poppins ain't got ISH on me," someone's asking her out of the blue if she'd like to help with a project that's been irking her...if she'd like to be the CEO of Awesome Inc...if she'd like to accept this totally free whatever that would totally help her with whatever positive endeavor she's currently trying to go after.

I would sit back mesmerized. I asked her how she was doing it and she pulled a muther truckin' Oprah. By this I mean she said she would just sit and wait for the Universe to whisper what she needed to do or say and then she would follow through with what she'd hear. She actively listens. Are you taking notes, because I'm starting to!

I give full credit to my joy to the blue period of my life. When depression hit, I stopped. And I mean I stopped doing everything that lead to connections...whether that be with friends, books, all stopped and when I woke up out of that scary silent place I was left with quiet peace. It was in that peace that I started hearing the whispers that J was hearing. (Some people call this praying...)

J noticed it immediately. She praised me for kicking butt in life. I was rocking on the job, I was cleaning up my life, cleaning out relationships that were no longer supportive, I started working on my book again, planning big trips over the ocean...

I smiled as I read her words...that was me...moving with the Universe instead of fighting against it. It all started with an Oprah episode...a director challenging the public at large to take only what was needed...and to stop living in a state of wanting (living similar to cancer--forever consuming until it kills its host and moves on.) So I stopped being cancerous. I stopped looking for the next possession I just had to have and started focusing on what I already had and could appreciate. That forced me to take a hard look at my life and edit down. I started letting go of things I no longer needed, feeling lighter and lighter as I went.

I listened on the job. Honestly, I literally started listening on conference calls and paying attention as people explained things to me. I started caring and work started to feel less of a chore.

I listened to my body and my friends who were telling me to get help and to keep pushing for peace of mind. I got on some better medication and voila! My energy came back. I began to work out and feel good again. 

J recommended Think and inspiration for my writing came back. That's when a new title for my book came to me...and when I went to write it down more words started flowing and I felt that I needed to pull out my editor's suggestions...and I fixed everything she suggested. I hadn't been able to touch that book since May and even that was a small poke.

Some friends invited Jersey and I to go to Hawaii with them next year...and then Jersey brought up a trip we've casually discussed for a year now (a family reunion to the Philippines) so we started actively planning that trip; setting money aside.

Things just happened once I listened....and I keep getting little signs that I'm on the right path. I read these beautiful song lyrics on Ink + Wit...It's kind of creepy how right on the words are, eh?

“The universe speaks to us always first in whispers….and if you don’t pay attention to the whisper, it gets louder and louder…” ~Oprah

There's no need to plan out where your life is SUPPOSED to go...where you should be. Just stop. Just listen. Just wait for the whispers....

Art by Tish: New iPad App...holla if you want it!

I Need Wrinkles!

Alright y'all...

You know I'm reading this book called Think that has my noggin on overload. I need books! I need new book suggestions like a dimwit needs a clue. Here's the rub, though. I'm looking for clever reads. It doesn't have to be non-fiction (The Red Tent was seriously one of the best historical/biblical books I've ever read...still think about it years later) but I'd like to throw a little in the mix. (Ahem Ellen...)

Currently in my Queue:

Open ~ Andre Aggasi
The Westing Game (a throwback from 7th grade)
Your So-Called Life
The Art of Racing in the Rain (Thanks Susan!)
Mixed: An Anthology of Short Fiction on the Multiracial Experience
Squirrel Seaks Chipmunk: A Modest Bestiary
Randy Lopez Goes Home
Snow Flower and the Secret Fan

Alright to all my bookworms, librarians and smart, educated buddies of the world. A sister needs your help!


Something's up with my dreams lately...

Dream 1: I had a dream I was having an argument with someone I know.

Later: I woke up knowing exactly what I had yelled...and vowed I wouldn't actually do something like that. Later that day I did exactly what was in my dream...provoked to the point where I couldn't hold it in.

Dream 2: I was cleaning up poop in a toilet. (Don't judge me.) I couldn't get the poop to go away. I'd wipe and wipe and more poop would just smear around. lol...I never once questioned why I was cleaning up poop in a toilet.

Later: I woke up the next morning, went into the kitchen and noticed this nasty grease crap had dripped down again onto the stove. I went to wipe it and it just kept getting worse and worse...After three attempts to get out the dark nasty stuff it dawned on me...Dream coming true...AGAIN.

Dream 3: Creepiest dream by far. Months ago I dreamed that this chick I ran Spartan with was a lawyer and lived in this home with this huge wall of books (like in Beauty and the Beast).

Later: Fast forward to yesterday. I was in the gym and noticed the Spartan friend from dream on the bikes. I pranced on up to her and noticed she was reading a history book about people from the 20th century. I joked with her that like my dream she was totally lawyer-like. She looked at me confused and said, "Well I am a lawyer, Tish." I blinked twice and asked if she was serious. She then went into this story about how she had practiced law back East and just wasn't licensed yet in California. I ran to Jersey and asked if she was jerking me around. He confirmed she really was and chills ran down my spine.
What does this all mean? I don't know, but my mom swears that the women in our family were cursed once. Any girls with red hair would be witches....My hair turns red in the summers AND I paid for some super red highlights a while back so I'm going with I'm a bit witchalicious.

If I start a sentence with, "Last night I dreamed..." make sure to pay attention...mmmkay, pumpkins?


I bawled.

The last Harry Potter film was seriously the end of a sweet era. For me, it was like finding out I really wouldn't turn into a mermaid if I ate lettuce and beans and sat in the bathtub for a really long time...or learning leprechauns would never pop out of trees and leave me treasures...the era of magic and imagination faded away as the credits started rolling. And that's why I began to cry at the very beginning of the darn movie.

...and the middle.

...and in all the sad parts, the heroic parts, the sweet parts, the touching parts, the scary get my drift? Heck, I even cried after I was out of the theater. I saw a cute little boy with his parents. He was dressed like Potter; walking into the theater casually--still confident this wouldn't be the last magical thing he'd ever see or believe in.

Some of you may be slowly backing away from your computers right now...wondering if I've seriously fell off my rocker, but I've always loved that part of childhood. The act of believing in adventure, magical stories and plots that twist my heart into knots. Do we have anything like that now? Is there anything left? I don't know...I'm sure we'll have more J.K. Rowlings popping up in the world (I at least believe in that) but that doesn't stop me from whimpering in a corner for the current situation.

I was sucked in completely. I don't remember if I breathed actually...during the whole movie. All I know is the girl beside me was bawling so I felt it was perfectly acceptable to weep out loud too. (sniffles and all)

I called J right after and we hashed over the whole darn movie...She actually read a Harry book to me on the way out to Los Angeles so many years ago so it was really sweet to gab once again...

I swear these movies are gonna be a prerequisite for my kids some day. Did you read Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret? Did you watch/read the Harry Potter books? Sweet! You are now officially my kid.

The aftermath...All that's left  Harry

Monday's Effects

I was really thinking Monday would suck balls because Carmageddon would still be a pain in me arse, but they finished early. I love folks who plan, prepare, and execute work so efficiently.

Gold stars for the crews delt that big ole bertha of a project!

I was really expecting to have this kind of a day...


Sad...I wonder which CNN news story got more hits: Ellen's kitten rescue or Indonesia's decision to pay Saudi Arabia blood money to save a woman from being beheaded?

Notice also the tiny news story about a US drone killing a grip of innocent people in Yemen...hidden, tiny little story.

The big story that was splashed across the top of CNN's home page? Harry Potter movie's ticket sales. (two blinks)

Au coin de ma rue (A Little Undefineable Something)

I've mentioned my appreciation for this blog before. I just love the idea of plucking a random person off the street and searching their persons for their undefinable something. According to the blog's author, "Most people we cross each day are forgotten instantly, but sometimes some individuals have a "little undefinable something" that makes them unforgettable."

It's so true...Megegan's bag of goodies proved to be most interesting...How many women do you know are walking down the street pondering books that ask the question, "what is the definition of a human being?"

An Oyá Soul

According to Junot Díaz, an Oyá soul is someone who's allergic to tranquility.

Did my momma lie to me? Am I secretly Latina? How is it that there's only one description for what I've been trying to verbalize for YEARS and it's in Spanish? Hmmm...people DO assume I'm Puerto Rican.

Any who, back to my allergy! I'm not a fan of silence. I grew up in a family of 5. I lived in dorms for two years, then I lived with two cool chicks who liked to talk and laugh and teach me how to sign sex and gonorrhea in sign language. Even when I lived by myself I always seemed to be throwing a party or studying with folks (Strategic Com peeps in the house!) life was never getting the award for being nice and quiet.

Then I moved out to LA. It was here that my noisy pool of pals dropped dramatically and I LOST.MY.DAMN.MIND.

For many moons I hid the fact that the silence drove me batty, but then a wise soul told me it's totally natural for someone such as myself, who had a family such as mine, would go a little stir crazy in a house of tranquil hell.

Most of the time I only get a couple hours here and there and I can deal with that. I use those moments to write, read...worry about how I'm going to fix that camel toe know, the usual. Then Jersey left for a month and some change and I LOST.MY.DAMN.MIND.AGAIN.

You don't believe me?! I wrote this poem during that blue period:

you know my friend lonely?
do you really know lonely?
not quiet time but lonely?
do you know her friends tick tock and drop?
have you ever waited for the hush to stop?
do your eyes play tricks on you?
seeing flickered lights and human hue...
do you talk to bugs before you smash
and pray small prayers, wish on a lash
for someone to show up at your door
do you yearn to laugh
or do you scrub tables and floor?
do you worry that the smells that rot
are parts of you that have been lost and forgot?
have you filled time up, buckets deep
but find they're cramming space and then you weep
i really know lonely.
she won't leave me be
she teases and taunts, even flips me the b.

Silence does THAT to me...makes me write REALLY sad, bad poetry...It's really a tragic ordeal y'all. Really. And get this...Jersey has left once again. This time he's in Vegas for a Man Retreat Extravaganza with the fellas. I feel a new poem coming on...

Jersey is a clever man...He created these sweet (but seriously scary) bumps to help


When it comes to art, I have to be honest, I'm the last person you'd want to go to for a snazzy interpretation.

The last time I analyzed a poem ("The Reticent Volcano" by Emily Dickinson) the teacher petted me on the head and told me I was special and "colorful"...

The same specialness applies to art. I look at it. I give a little kiwi spun story to enhance the flavor of it and I move on...I won't be waiting by the phone for the Times to call me and offer me the chance to give scathing reviews on the likes of Damien Hirst. What did his dot painting mean to me? Well, it reeks of self-deprecation. He obviously hated trees and mourned for a mother who played Minnie Mouse in her school play. El fin.

That's basically how I've always seen art. It's never been personal to me. It's never resonated or caused me to experience an emotion...that is until *Twinkie and Jboogie came along and made me watch a documentary on Banksy--interesting street artist with a knack for naughty wit.

This dude can make me swoon and say "Ahhhh Shat! He went there!!!" in one gloriously new kind of breath. Thank God for the blokes out there in the world who can push buttons AND capture it simultaneously. If I ever met him I'd give him a can of green spray paint and tell him he's my hero.

My name is Tish and I'm an art groupie.

*Twinks is always hipping me to new movies and ideas. Like Banksy she captures that ish on her blog. If you're ever in need of some fresh jolts, I suggest clicking there and reading as much as you possibly can without getting caught by your boss.

You See What Happens When Worlds Collide!?

Jboogie sent this one to me the other day...

Chick gets me. It's cool.

You've Got it Joben!

I've noticed lately that I've been given more and more responsibility on the job. I'm dealing with directors on a daily basis...I've prided myself on the fact that I could talk to anyone without fear, but lately I've been noticing a change...

I've been trying to sound all big wordy-like...and I'm not good at it because I'll sit there and pull Peter's like it's nobody's business. I say the weirdest ISH to these folks. Sometimes I blank out completely and just say something equally awkward like, "Oh I don't know the word. It's Friday..." or "It's Monday, who needs nouns and sentences," and then I'll make up words like totes magotes and keep on truckin'.

Face to palm.

Latress on the menjay

Vivid Imagination

Every morning I walk out to my car and start dumping bags and such in my backseat. There's always this white truck waiting for me...and this is when snarky thrives in me best...

Actions that usually take seconds become slooooower. I casually walk around the car...check the tires...walk back around. You get my drift... I take my time because why? Because I've created a story for this white truck.

It's 7am in the morning! What is he doing at 7am in the morning? He's never there on the weekends or in the evenings...He can't live near me so he MUST be a man living a double life. He's got a lover that he stops and sees before work...or after his night shift. SHAMEFUL! I despise this white truck. I punish him by taking my time and keeping him that much longer.

Except today I learned he's not some naughty, scandalous man. He's a Ford Truck employee and parks on my street and then walks to work...This would explain the never seeing him on the weekends...Never seeing him in the evening...Always arriving at 7am when I'm leaving. I saw him walking today with his employee shirt on and I swear, my shoulders started to rise as my head started to lower.

Really Tish?! Your imagination is wayyy out in left field because that is some dramatic ish! I swear I need to read Anne Frank's book again...

"Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart."

and stop watching Reality TV!

Jersey Luv

The man I luv doesn't need much to smile. As I've mentioned before, he just needs some good tunes and it's settled. He's scrunching the eyes, he's biting the lip, he's hip hopping his arms (yeah, I just created that verb.) It's's one of his many isms that made me fall in love with him so I try to encourage the behavior as much as possible.

One of his favorite groups happens to be a group I dig as well: A Tribe Called Quest. For me, Tribe equaled luv when Beats Rhymes and Life came out. "Stressed Out" was my jam! (still is...)

For Jersey it was love at first listen. He always loved them...can rap along to all that ish...never breaking a sweat; never skipping a word. The Low End Theory can be found in his stereo at ALL TIMES...all times.

So you can imagine, after reading all of this, how eager I was to say yes when he asked if I'd be his +1 for a special documentary showing of Beats Rhymes and Life. The director, Michael Rapaport, was there to answer questions from the fans. It was so perfect.

Jersey sat there, totally focused, soaking all that Tribe goodness up...and that happy crack mentality lasted hours after the show was said and done with. 

Diva Dara says her wise momma taught her that you should love and expect nothing in return. WELP...I love him like that...and the luv gods smiled down in approval and showered me with a happy, hip hop enthusiast whose gangsta makes me weak in the knees.

That's the scenario Tribe!!!


Hungry Like the Wolf ♪♫

I'm hungry like the woooooooolf!

Last night I cleaned like a banshee beast lady and then sat back and watched Jersey make the most delicious pizza for dinner: wheat crust, spinach, bell peppers, shrooms, turkey pepperoni and goat cheese. Talk about snazzy...but talk about LIGHT. We felt full enough, but then it happened.

I woke up at 12:33am with a case of belly grumble-itis. Terrible affliction I must say! I sat up and bed and noticed Jersey was no where to be found so I walked into the kitchen and caught him throwing back his favorite cereal like he was a tasmanian devil or something. It was hilarious to say the least. He stopped, mid-cereal gorge and I stopped in mid-Filipino roll reach and laughed together.

Note to those foodies that I so admire...I am all for healthy, large dinner recipes and/or suggestions.

WE'VE GOTS TO EAT! (clap, clap, clap CLAP!) SO THAT WE'LL SLEEP! (clap, clap, clap, clap)

Philosophical Question of the Day

"Love is blind, they say; sex is impervious to reason and mocks the power of all philosophers. But, in fact, a man's sexual choice is the result and the sum of his fundamental convictions. Tell me what a man finds sexually attractive and I will tell you his entire philosophy of life. Show me the woman he sleeps with and I will tell you his valuation of himself..."

Do you believe this? I mean maybe a dude only picks sexy-time women because he has a small wee wee and that's his way of compensating, but then maybe there are men who pick phenomenal women for the same reason...that doesn't necessarily mean he's phenomenal too...

How can you define and grade someone's intentions? lying detector test?

Ayn got some 'splaining to do!

Bow chicka wow wowwww


The last time I visited J Boogie at home we did a little book exchange of sorts. I gave her a copy of The Help which is currently my top read of 2011 and she gave me a book called Think: Dumb American Syndrome. I JUST finished a book over the weekend so I picked up her suggestion last night and kiwi luv, am I glad I did!

I've read a couple of pages and I'm liking what I'm reading:

"Twenty-five percent of young American women would rather win America's Next Top Model than the Nobel Peace Prize. Twenty-three percent would rather lose their ability to read than their figures."

I'm down with regrouping...switching up some of my priorities and actually using my noodle for a change. Why not! Less Reality TV, less social networking (to conquer boredom), more reading, more physical activity...MORE THINKING!

Tish Mentality 2011: Focus on the brain wrinkles, less on the face ones!

Word to your mother.

Mysterious Love Bites

Are y'all watching this?! Did anyone else experience the male equivalent of entertainment depravity? ("You know, no football, no basketball, no sports I don't know what to do?! Scratching my balls just will NOT be enough!") I always experience that at the beginning of the summer, but this little verano I had the luxury of finding two new shows that have me loving the boob tube: Love Bites and Sherlock.

Love Bites is juicy because it's an anthology series which focuses on three different stories each episode. There's these two main characters, a dude in Cali and a New York gal (Ugly Betty's Amanda!) and each story somehow relates to either one of them in clever, nifty ways. It's impossible to get bored! It's genius! Even Jersey watches it with me. Trust me, that's HUGE. I DVR it each week and then spend the rest of the week watching bits and pieces...little treats I spread out for delight.

Sherlock is my first smart show. (blink, blink) You read me correctly. I don't usually watch stuff because I feel the need to be intellectually challenged. (Just keepin' it real) Like my books, I'm looking for a nice, light escape. Brigid, my sneaky little friend, hoodwinked into me watching the show a couple weeks ago and I love it so much. It's smart. It's beautifully shot. The characters can act their arses off and it's captivating like a muther trucker! I find myself squeezing my eyes shut during suspenseful parts. My nerves go crazy. It's an intriguing, humorous show and I can't WAIT for season 2. Bring on the dang mystery!


I love for this...

I loathe nothing more than pretentious novel enthusiasts who only read the classics blah blah blah and look at you like your crazy for picking up a copy of Twilight because you needed some good 'ole easy lovey dovey ish .

I personally detested Catcher in the Rye, thank you very much. I'm not much for spoiled little boys like Holden Caulfield. That's just me and how I roll...or read rather. So seeing this list of best books of the 20th century and then seeing Harold and the Purple Crayon- a book that I happen to love greatly (love to give it to people for booky baby showers) made my eyeballs so very happy.

I currently have 20+ books in my "too-read" section and that warms my heart. The site tickles two of my favorite delights: organization and books.

My inner bookworm is inching to the beat...its version of a happy dance.

Apples + Oranges

Jersey and I have many similarities that brought us together, but that doesn't stop us from yin yanging all over the gosh durn place.

Last weekend he asked if I'd help him create a beach playlist and THAT my friends is when I was reminded he's totally an apple and I'm totally a yummy zesty orange. You see, Jersey lives up to his name. He needs beat and bass...something to fist pump to...Something to get him in a Jersey state of mind. He grew up on strictly Rhythm and Blues...What does that mean, you ask?

That means he doesn't know ISH about The Beatles (that one about killed me!), or Pink Floyd, Dolly, Willy, Elvis, the Flaming Lips, GoGo's, Michael name any rockstar or crooner who hasn't partnered up with Jodeci and you'll find my dearest with a blank look on his face. "Is it panty droppin' music? No? Yeah, don't know them then, sorry."

I sat there throwing out names like the Mamas and the Papas and he'd shoot back judgement...Like somehow I'm the weird one. Ha!

You know, at one time, I thought I had to date someone that listened to the same stuff I did. I just assumed that music was the perfect I'm a bit (JUST A BIT NOW!) more mature, though. Blame it on the pher-pher-pher-pha-pheromones or Cupid's invisible arrow but even though he can't relate to my "Coat of Many Colors" emotional connections, we sure can sit and watch a flick like The Wackness and fist pump our similar funny bones in unison.

We totally walked out for a lovely weekend and noticed we were rockin the same ish. SEE!

Mind you this was wayyyy back in the day, but when I was in Chi town for that Nike event I discovered some hotel art that forced me to stop every darn time. I never did catch the artist's name, but boy was this a snazzy piece of art.

Fresh in the Raw

I'm sensitive. I don't mean like the type that enjoys long walks on beaches and cries when puppies's deeper than that. I"m sensitive to people and their intentions. I get upset when I feel ill will, bare witness to negative intentions, etc. Seeing negative ish makes me retreat into dark places where I can't think. I get anxious and I cry...some times a lot.

Since I was a little girl I've recognized I have a knack for empathizing with others. That's no surprise, but what does surprise people is I'm missing the strength that most empathetic folk have that allows them to sit, listen and avoid absorbing that ish. I get lost in others suffering and pain. And it seems the older I get, the more weight I feel and the harder it is shake the bad stuff off.

Yesterday was a weird day. I hadn't slept so well the night before (even on the west side of LA we're feeling the heat waves) so I arrived at work, fresh in my rawness.

I started trying to pinpoint why I was so filled with grief. I had no idea where it was coming from or how to cope with it so I did what every lucky person would do; I wrote my bestie and asked her to help talk me through it all.

She gave me some awesome meditating advice and validated that I'm not indeed crazy. Jersey even chimed in...offered a massage, a new fan for the bedroom and even jabbered with me about an idea I'm circling around. I think I've come to hate facebook and everything that darn site has come to mean. I sent this article to J and Jersey, "Social Networking and Depression" and figured out I'm not so off when it comes to hating that darn thing. The ticker was when J responded back with, "It's pretty fascinating from a sociology standpoint. It used to be that the Joneses were next door. Now they're all over the world 24/7 in your face!

How insightful!!! I wanted to hug her in that moment. While I personally could care less about the whole friend number game, I do find myself getting upset if I see snarky people intentionally writing things to piss others off...posting updates with inuendos with hurtful undertones...shallow replies, etc. I don't like nasty funky attitudes lol...Period. Conclusion, Tishy?: Get the hell off of Facebook! Now some of you who haven't joined the dark side are scratching your heads wondering if maybe, possibly I sucked on lead paint chips as a kiddie. Read that article!!! People put sooo much importance on that dang site! I didn't speak to someone for months and the first time we spoke she wasn't upset that we hadn't chatted in ages; home girl was mad I deleted her from Facebook! It's THAT important to society now.

It's icky. It's tangibly sticky and grotesque. It's virally disgusting. I'm stepping away...and cursing the fella who lured me into that hideous social networking site.

...Whenever I'm on the good path, information starts piling in to reaffirm I'm on to something. This morning J sent me this:

I’ve noticed in the last couple years, with myself (especially) and my clients - a heightened perfectionism due to all the visibility and exposure we have with Facebook and Twitter. We all naturally want to put our best foot forward and present ourselves in the best light. However, by only showing or commenting on our most glowing moments - we play into what my coach, Mona Miller, calls the “High Ego”.

When we live in the “High Ego”, we incessantly compare and contrast ourselves to other people - people we look up to or idealize, people we want to impress from our past (ex-boyfriends/girlfriends) or anyone we measure ourselves against externally and want to feel ‘better than’. This momentarily boosts an inflated version of ourselves…but the High Ego is just the flip side of the “Low Ego” - the place where we are afraid we may not be ‘as good / successful/ happy… as’.

By constantly editing (instant ‘untag’, anyone?) and embellishing, we only permit this idealized version of ourselves to rise to the surface, be seen and accepted. What we actually end up feeding is our fear that we aren’t good enough, exactly as we are (all the good, the bad and the ugly). We deny, minimize and try to gloss over the more wrinkle-y, annoyed, sad, blah, mundane self (a.k.a. The Shadow). ~Ashley Turner

I'm gonna keep it real. No more High Ego!

Day 30: The Gosh Forsaken END!!!

Free at last! Free at last! Thank Gordon Parks Almighty I'm free at last!

This photo challenge has been interesting. I don't know how people do niche anything...projects...ick! ack!
It's hard dang it! I did not enjoy having homework...Even if I could take a dang picture of anything I wanted, I still felt confined, limited and gassy. (I always feel gassy, though.)

I made it though and I'm ending with the best one. It even has a story (a simple picture with a not so simple meaning.) The paper you see happens to be the one and only script I've gotten my paws on this year. The writer/director asked me if I'd like to go out for the lead. At first I said yes, but then I caught the blues and decided I couldn't handle the volunteer journey down torment lane so now I'm shooting for a supporting role that suits me just dandy.

The journal is all about the second dream-my writing. Why I picked two of THE hardest dreams to go after I know not, but boy do they look pretty together. So that's what I'll be focusing on as much as possible...Acting and writing.

The ings...The big mama jamas...The two hot tamales.

Not Everyone is a Frickin Foodie!

I'm walking...I'm grabbing my box. I'm putting the box on the ground. I am standing on the box now. I am ranting to you while standing on my box.

Not everyone is a frickin foodie! Why do I feel the need to pull out the soap box and shout this to the world ten people who actually read this? It's sad actually. All I want to do is plan a nice meal with food that folks will like. Jersey and I had a party at the beach this weekend with some buds. I took it upon myself to find fun foods for the fun day... The search was NOT fun.

I searched for days and I swear to Julia Childs herself, I almost clubbed a baby seal with a frying pan I was so angry with those recipe authors and the bull spit they were trying to feed me. I found one site that said I could make muffuletta sandwiches. Those happen to my favorite sammies in the whole wide world. I get them all the time in New Orleans when I'd visit. Sooo good. I gleefully clicked on the link and then read the following:

Really Food Network?! That's easy?! What in Hades is mortadella?! I am NOT a foodie. I don't want to buy fontina cheese or have garnishes. Does everything delicious have to involve stuck up ingredients? Because that's what they are...They're stuck up, hoity toity, pretentious ingredients. The foodie revolution is bewitching. From now on all parties shall be low maintenance classics. I shall buy peanut butter and jelly...and sticking a pickle on the side as a garnish.

Word to your mother.

Day 29: I Really Don't Know Clouds at All...

But now old friends are acting strange

They shake their heads, they say I've changed

Well something's lost, but something's gained

In living every day

Oh Joni...

How wise you are my dear poet.

Pinkies Up

Have you ever been to a tea party before? Los Angeles is filled with lovely tea houses where you can go and pinkie up (as I like to call it) with your ladies. My dear friend E created this lovely day for her sister *Umpa.

You arrive and your voices start to lower. You feel your posture begin to improve and your tummy starts to grumble for some tea. E chose an enchanting place in Pasadena called the Scarlett Tea Room.

I chose the Mademoiselle Grey (Earl Grey & rose petals) and THE best sangria I've ever had. (Seriously, the wine was sweet, but not too sweet and flavorful to boot.)

We spent that time being anything, but ladylike...laughing and tasting, laughing and sipping. Couldn't think of a better way to spend a weekend morning...

BEAUTIFUL scones that could raise a thousand pinkies

fancy pants ambiance

THE birthday girl of the year

my pal E and her mama mia bud

a picklette

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