One Dollar

The other night I stopped by Target to pick up some odds and ends. While waiting in line I noticed this gangly kid and his mom. Normally I'd glance and then go back to my iPhone game, but something about the kid caught my eye. He had on an old shirt laden with holes; wearing shoes that were obviously too big. More than that he had round large sad eyes that were both searching and hiding from others in line. The mom stood in front of him frantically searching through her purse for coins; trying to find enough money to pay for her kid's dollar poster board.

My heart went out and so I took out a dollar and casually mentioned that it's a pet peeve of mine too, to have to use a debit card when it's just a dollar or so. She smiled at me, but declined the money stating that she was okay. The boy looked to her and said softly, "But what about my lunch tomorrow?"

I pretended like I didn't hear because I could tell the mom was trying to keep it together. She patted her son on the back and said it would be okay. I just wanted to hug her...

I remember when teachers at school would assign projects like it was nothing...I remember the stress that would bubble up inside, wondering if my parents would have the cash for such things. People made it look so easy to go out and shop. Even now with all the fashion and fun blogging out there I still experience that weird disconnect. The Have's vs the Have-Nots and how hard it is for the fortunate to understand the grief that comes with paying for one white poster board.

I'm grateful for a job. I'm grateful for the ten dollars in my wallet, but even more grateful that I'm able to remember my past enough to never take my fortunate moments for granted.

For me a dollar in my wallet will always symbolize peace. I pray that little boy gets the highest grade in his class on that project!

Cloud Atlas (No Spoilers)


First and foremost. I believe in signs. I believe that it was no accident that one day I picked up my iPad, flipped through some articles and landed upon the most visually breathtaking trailer of a movie that wouldn't be released for months. It was no accident that I then stumbled across this footage on facebook...nor was it an accident that one of my best pals, D, asked if I'd go see this film (something I would never in a million think anyone would want to see with me.) But he did...and so did Jersey so last night we hunkered down with caffeine. Well they did. I stuck to herbal tea.

...And then it began.

I have no idea what I just saw. I know Lana Wachowski didn't write this glorious script, but I feel like she still managed to tell her story...and all the stories of those out there like her. Me included. I won't give anything away. I'll only share with you what I read beforehand. Everyone said the script was too complicated. That there would be too many characters. The ideas would beat us over the head simplistically while the script would leave us confused and dazed.

I couldn't agree more. These characters were rich and beyond any dimensional restrictions. I had a come to Jesus moment with this film. I tell you this because I'm about to get a bit heavy on y'all. I feel like this movie...the book...the work itself is a brilliant truth that the world needs to hear, if only one person believes it'll do the job. Falsehood: Our lives amount to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean. Truth: What is an ocean a multitude of drops?

I'm being meta right now. After you see the movie come back to this post and re-read that last sentence. It's my written hug for like-minded souls.

Jersey is infamous for falling asleep in movies. He sat on the edge of his chair the entire time, fixated on the screen. D hung on every word. I cried over some really hard parts and wore my heart on my sleeve proudly. This movie will resonate with the sentimental. You'd be doing yourself a HUGE disservice if you walked into the film with a critic's cap on. Forget dissecting and imperfection. I went in expecting to have my mind blown and that it did. It's the best gift a director (or three) can give in my opinion. A story that shows us we're more alike than we'd like to believe...that we our not our own. "We are bound to others, past and present. And by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future."

I wish I would have had my pen and paper in that theater. There were so many words that I wanted to write down. So many lessons and thoughts that I needed to hear that day, that hour/minute/second. I'll see it again for sure. I haven't been this moved since high school when I saw this out-of-this-world play about a future society void of human interaction. Scary being that I live that world now...The hairs on my arm stood up then much like they stood up last night. I gather David Mitchell's book, Cloud Atlas, isn't such a stretch as the darling critics would like for us all to believe. Like a character from the movie explains, the chasms filled with out differences are simply imaginary. I applaud Tom Hanks, Halle Berry and the others who partook in this film. It says something lovely that no other film has exposed to me before.


"What wouldn't I give now for a never-changing map of the ever-constant ineffable? To possess, as it were, an atlas of clouds."



Something's been stirring the last couple of weeks.

For reasons I haven't quite figured out yet my circle of friends has begun to the point of tears a couple of times and late night pillow talks with the fella wondering what the heck has been going on.

I've always been a friendship champion; coveting my friendships as prized gifts. Not sure if that's why I find myself in this current predicament, but current insights have caused a reawakening.

I give and I give and I give. Jersey says I give too much. I'm offering free this and sharing this...hooking people up with information, job opportunities, I provide beds to crash in, shoulders to cry on, the shirts off my back, I help clean homes, I'm helping HELPING HELPING...BUT the minute I can't because of whatever solid reason the folks just flit away.

By definition that means they're not friends. I get that, but it still sucks. It's growing lonelier and lonelier out there. It's making the wedding guest list a lot easier to figure out, but it sucks for my morale. I have to re-evaluate. I feel used, chewed up and spit out and that, dear readers, is not a warm and fuzzy feeling to have.

Friendship is supposed to be reciprocal. It's supposed to be honest and kind and present, damn it.

I sat in bed late last night asking myself what does all this mean. When the idea of reciprocity came up I had my answer.

I'm moving into some new, wonky chapter of life that is totally foreign to me. Instead of fighting it I'm just gonna keep moving with this new solo flow. It's time to stop with thinking I have all the answers and know the Master Plan.

I may not be trending, but the idea of relinquishing control is.

Today I stick by the gospel known as Oprah.


Scary Arse Weekend

This weekend I give in to Jersey's incessant begging.

This weekend I stare fear in the face (for 1.5 seconds, scream and squeeze my eyes back shut.)

This weekend I will be seeing Paranormal Activity 4 and attending a stinkin' haunted house with the fella, my cousin (who's visiting from out of town) and some friends. 

I have a feeling falling asleep isn't going to be something I enjoy after Saturday night. I don't know how he talks me into seeing this ish with him. I guess I just feel bad because he always watches my flicks (even though I always pick great films!) 

Wish me strength! Wish me luck! Wish me protection from zombies popping out of dark corners!

Got Me All Shook Up


I found the coolest toy store in the Valley. They've got tons of old school toys (no glow worms yet, but I'll keep my eyes open!) I had a moment when I saw the Elvis and Priscilla wedding dolls.

Present day celebrity couples have NOTHING on the past. Does Angelina and Brad have wedding-day Barbies? I think not.

I have to go back soon and wax some serious little kid nostalgic. After all, there's no school like the old school!

A Love Letter to Eva

This is why I love blogs...

The act of writing and publishing said posts into the webs opens lovely doors...helps you find other bloggers and find new, groovy things. Yesterday's post got one lovely comment from a gal named Emily. I popped on over to her blog and found THIS.

There's just something absolutely, positively wonderful about love letters. (There's a reason they had to publish a book of love letters after Sex and the City put that *idear out into the world.) Who doesn't swoon when someone's spouting sweet everythings?

Love, love, love...

I'm not sleeping because wedding stuff has me a bit sad. It crushes you a little, doesn't it? It's not as fun and free as you're made to believe. Nothing's cheap. ESPECIALLY in Los Angeles. So every time I get to remember the love part and forget the pocket pinching I'm better.

Love, love, love...

Wedding 1, Tishy, 1

*idear = Jersey's way of saying idea...tickles me green.

Under Construction


Spring cleaning my brain and 'tude has led me to spring clean the ish out of my blog. It's still a work in progress because a.) I'm not a graphic designer b.) I'm technicalogically inept. c.) I'm having a hard time connecting with the awesome lady who designed this bad boy for me to fix the kinx. 

Bare with a sister. 

Looking at this site in its current state makes my butt twitch, which makes it really hard to write. Cross your fingers and toes that she gets back to me soon and my lovely blog of luv and kiwi is PIMPED OUT! (properly....this was intended to be read with an English accent.)


Bride Babble


"Do you have a theme?!"

"What's your color pallette?"

"Are you inviting cousin Betsy?"

Oh the babble that comes with wedding planning. I swear I'm not normal. You wanna know what I've been babbling to Jersey?

"Can I have poop cupcakes, pleeeeeease?! What if we just order a bunch of pizzas for people!? I swear I will cut you with a shank from a church pew if you make me wear heels down the aisle!"

I'm what some refined bridal experts would call, "A hot mess, nontraditional bride." What's the fun in wedding planning if you can't make it your own? Yes, I realize I'm a tad bit bonkers, but who decided that chicken or fish HAD to be served?! Where in the constitution of bridal etiquette does it say you can't have poop cupcakes as a groom's cake/dessert?

Wedding 1, Tishy 0.

We've booked a venue! 
Now I've been instructed by Mo to chill the heck out for three months. Gladly!

The FBG Retreat

So the FBG Retreat I went to last weekend in Jersey...

It was filled with so many highs and one pesky low. I got to play with Erin's kiddoes, kiss lots of baby heavenly baby cheek, read fun books and I even learned I can do a mean Elmo voice. "Elmo love Avery!"

We wined and dined every night...sat around glasses of truth and shared fun stories.

We walked around a dark park in Brooklyn together in 39 degree weather. 

Wore matching running outfits...

And hooked up with Alexzia "The Awesome" who grabbed grapes like a goddess and chowed down.

I love girl time. I really do. Female bonding is some kind of wonderful. 

Let's Talk Work

Back in the day creative people hung with other creative folk because they actually enjoyed their company. They dug the conversation. They found mental stimulation in the thoughts and words of their colleagues. 

I love this picture of Maya Angelou and Langston Hughes. Langston is one of my late heroes. I love that he would help out any and all writers that showed up on his Harlem step. Love that he edited work in green. Love that his work constantly morphed, grew and rocked because of the thousands of influences he encountered on a daily basis.

When I was a kid I envisioned I'd have my first Oscar by 20. Then I'd make enough money to open up a home for kids who also had creative dreams...I'd let those kids live in the house for free as long as they kept creating. I wanted painters, dancers, actors, origami artists to fill my spaces with their genius and make the world a groovier place. 

Still plan to make that happen...even if it's in my own home with my own kids. Funny how dreams start to focus the older and closer you get. 

via Tumblr


A good friend,  Dave Sambilay, had a photo shoot a while back that he needed models for. I may have insecurities to boot, but they all disappear when someone says, "pose." Every actor worth her smile loves a good photo shoot, after all. 

My favorite part of this shoot was Dave allowing me to wear whatever I so pleased so I chose a dress I purchased from Shareen Vintage and my favorite shoes (chucks.)  Then I got my vogue on. 

It's amazing what a little choice, lighting and makeup will do for a gal.

The Principle of Replacement

Crazy how inspiration, encouragement and teachings always find me right when I need them the most...

My mom sent me an email this morning that came at just the right time...hit just the right nerve.

I flew to Jersey last Thursday to run a race with the Fit Bottomed Girls and had THE suckiest race of my life lol...I'll get more into that lovely ordeal on FBGs site, but let's just say it wasn't my prettiest day or moment. I felt like such a frickin failure at the end of that race...six miles broke me. I ran a marathon and six miles broke me. I just kept thinking, "I'm not good at this athlete issues or not I'm not a good runner."

THEN there's this other underlying issue of friends loving friends for how successful they are. There's this situation I have where a friend was all up my butt when I first moved to LA because I was going after my dream and actually booking work...I looked promising and hopeful. She was so proud and was all up in my ish. Then the auditions started slacking...and my shine wore off and I started noticing how she was focusing on a new prodigy who was doing the damn thing. Moving up through glamorous circles and excelling EVERY.DAMN.DAY at being fabulous. So I see this pride and energy and my insecurities set in. Yeah, I know I shouldn't focus on friends who only dig me if my job is cool, and trust me it's not like I'd suddenly feel fulfilled and happy if I won the Oscar and said friend was up my butt again. When push comes to shove, I just feel bad that my acting career isn't going anywhere. That I'm not shiny and useful...

...Then there's my full time job. Out of a small group of folks, I'm the lowest position...the one who's monitored and so forth. It's a bit embarrassing. I realize this isn't my dream pays the bills and keeps me afloat until the moment the acting thing happens, but I'm still a perfectionist at heart. So my ego just keeps getting pounded from all directions.

Physically and mentally broke; I needed that post from my mom. I'm not your typical every Sunday church chick, but I'm open to any and all spiritual pick-me-ups. I have to replace the bad thoughts with the good:

  • I may not be a fast ass runner, but I finish. I do. 
  • I may not have moved up the ladder of my acting dreams just yet, but I'm out here trying and I know I have the chops to do this damn thing.
  • I have a job that keeps food on my table. 

This week I'm going to focus on the art of replacement and see where it takes me. Tishy needs some peace of heart and I'm pretty sure this will be the key to unlocking that flow! I hope so anyways...because feeling like I've been feeling lately is for the birds!

Off I Go!

I'm heading to NY today for a race I'm doing with the Fit Bottomed Girls and I couldn't be any more geeked!

Weird to think Jersey was originally going to propose this weekend. He planned to surprise me at the finish line. (Can you tell we're fitness nuts?)

Obviously he couldn't wait that long to lock me down but the thought still tickles me green.

We're running a 10k that should be pretty darn fun. Cooler weather, good peeps, cute kiddies... It's adventures like this that make me self-hug and tell the Big Guy Upstairs that I dig the gifts he's given me.

I'm about to board now... Don't know how much Internet I'll be making love to, but check out my Twitter and Instagram for goofy updates... Just in cases.


An Internet Fail


J hardly ever forwards me stuff off the internet (that's my job to internet stalk!) but when she does it's always THE funniest ish I've ever seen. 

Watch this and then watch it again. I guarantee you'll laugh even harder the second time. It's all about the music man...

A Wedding Planner

I'm throwing this out into the universe. I want a wedding planner.

Why you ask?

Because I sit in a weird conundrum of poo. I want the wedding I envision...simple, elegant and whimsical BUT I don't want to plan it on my own and I can't wait for my chill family and friends to do it for me (both my mom and my gal pal have volunteered, but I just feel bad. I don't think they realize just how Kunta I'd turn them.) Jump slave! JUMP!

We have this super duper specific idea...every thing's planned out. I know how it should look. I just don't know when you plan all that ish. I don't know how to get the best price for what I want. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know times infinity.

I'm not looking for a Mindy Weiss production...I just want a cute Mish-like wedding. (For all those who still don't know; Jersey's real name is Mark. Cat is out of the frickin bag.) So this evening I shall meet a planner who my married pal recommended. The planner asked if Jersey and I would like to meet her up at Jinky's...

Y'all if that's not a sign! Pumpkin pancake land?! I think we may be soul mates.

In the Woods

For book club we're reading In The Woods by Tana French and it's a page turner y'all! I love page turners. the only thing is my TV shows are back on so it's really hard to get me to do the right thing. I sit in front of the boob tube and watch stuff like Breaking Bad (we're behind), Once Upon a Time, Oprah's shows on OWN (LOVING Iyanla, Fix My Life), Modern Family and Grimm

I know I have to break free from the boob chains sooner or later, though. My book club would beat me first of all (I didn't finish a book once and I thought they'd burn me alive!) If they didn't get me, the library sure would. 

I answer to great ones. What can I say.

The Definition of Stress

I learned recently that stress is when one refuses to accept reality.

I am in an extreme state of stress and duress apparently because I just can't accept how fugly arse hot it's been in Southern California.

Over the weekend Jersey and I went pumpkin picking and fall house decor shopping in order to get into the spirit, but the heat kept wrecking my flow. We turned off the AC because, gosh darn it all, we were set on ushering fall in. I got out of the shower and started sweating. Have you ever had that happen? You'll try to put on makeup and your upper lip is beading sweat? It's far from so fresh and so clean.

Still I willed...

We decided we'd pumpkin pick on time this year so we set out for this famous Hollywood spot called Mr. Bones Pumpkin Patch (just for shats and giggles) ...The underarm sweat started dripping the minute we got out of our car. Still I ran through that patch like a kid in a candy store and even had a small kid-like pout session when Jersey told me I couldn't have the skinny, tall pumpkin (that was $45.) It was fun...even if global warming told us it was still summer.

Don't kick the pumpkins!

I found a green pumpkin!!! I named  him Slimer.

I found a fall wreath for the door. Always wanted one. Now I have it. Boo ya!

Jersey was serious about the pumpkins, yo!

Totes my goats!!!

I felt sorry for the little ponies. It was hot. They were tied to a contraption that made them walk in a circle while punk-ta-fied crumb snatchers bounced on them. If I were that pony I would have bucked at least one of 'em!

I will have a long skinny pumpkin. Oh yes...I will. You should choose a pumpkin that represents you, don't you think?


Jersey's been away on business this week...

Isn't it funny how one minute you're rolling your eyes because he's forgotten to replace the toilet paper (yet again) while you're sitting on the potty; then they leave for a couple days and you miss every last ounce of 'em...forgetful brain and all.

I've done pretty well at keeping busy, but I'm super duper happy he comes home today. 

Life just don't work right without that man!

I really do feel bad for the cheese, but like toots and other odd things I speak about that I know causes some folks' butts to twitch I just can'

Bring on the Valtrex!

Oh snap!

I went into the dermatologist on Monday to get help with my recently exploding pizza face issues and it just so happened that I had developed what I like to refer to as "leprocy" (aka I got a HUGE cold sore that demolished my lip) so the doctor was all up in my grill about it. (timing is a mother snitch, ain't it?!)

I get those bad boys maybe once a year, but lately it seems like I get 'em every time I travel for a couple of days...stress, diet changes...what can I say; I'm a sensitive gal. So anyways, the doc took one look at my lip and prescribed me Valtrex...You know, the Herpes medicine that you always see on TV.

Yep...I had to go to the pharmacy and sit there as the chick did a double take on what she was handing over...I thought I would die when she started giving me wonky looks. Yes! I have a huge bit of leprocy on my face! It happens! Stop looking! Move on!

That was my one and only time to go out in public. I don't enjoy the stares so I just sit at home nursing my herpe (un sore),  feeling sorry for myself and cursing the acids in my body.


Fat sent me this and now I'm obsessed. The fella's voice doesn't match his look and I love that ish! You get your sexy on homie!

Dream, Believe, Do

"When the student is ready, the master appears."~Buddhist Proverb

I love this post. It's one of those brilliant messages you need to read over and over again...and then come back to a couple months later just to cement the message in.

Michelle Ogundehin you are wise and lovely.

I haven't had much time ever since Jersey popped the question to really dig deep into acting the way I know I need to. That's something I plan to tackle soon. 

...It's pretty common for me to think of my dream and allow the homeless man from the movie Pretty Woman to start streaming into my thoughts...

"This is Hollywood. Everybody has a dream!"

Canada + A Wedding

Oh how I miss Canada...

Vancouver is so beautiful in the fall. We ate well, stayed up entirely too late each night hanging with awesome friends in adjoining hotel rooms, explored and celebrated a wedding. 

(In a nut shell.)

We smelled fresh air and walked for miles and day dreamed about buying a second or third home there one day...It was the perfect mini-trip. 

So perfect I think I may have left my brain back there. Writing and work just aren't coming like they should. I'm going to spend this week trying to get back into my groove. 

I shot my diet to hell while there (late night potato chips, pizza, hot dogs...I'm ashamed) so I'll be rebuilding my stomach and poo routine. Wish me luck! Seriously...

Because Peeing Your Pants is Cool

Dear Monday,

You're really hard on my heart. Therefore I've taken a couple spoons full of sugar to help the craziness go down. Take that funk!

These pranks are right up my alley!

Call me immature, but hearing an anchor person say 'penis' makes my day. News failures.

With Luv and Kiwi,

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