Listen deeply for your truth

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If a tree falls in the forest

I don’t remember a time when I didn’t talk to myself. I still do, and quite often. There are only two things I do more frequently – breathe and blink.

It’s not uncommon for me to shock myself by what flies out of my mouth. Sometimes it’s offensive or completely inappropriate. Sometimes, I walk around my house inventing, reliving, or rewriting entire conversations. Sometimes I say things I would never say in the presence of others – besides my dog.

She’s always lurking nearby. She hears everything. One of my worst nightmares is waking up one day to learn that she understands and speaks perfect English and inked a book deal. Luckily, dogs take everything to the grave better than anyone.

Kids, on the other hand, can become writers.

Two pillars of strength

I was an only child and the first born grandchild on both sides of my family. I realize not everybody is fortunate to have these remarkable figures in their lives. I will always be grateful for they time I had with my grandparents, particularly my grandmothers. Mine are pictured below, above me and my mom.

Grandma Libbey (top left) passed in 2011, on my 37th birthday. Grandma Garrod (top right) passed in April, 2013. They were instrumental in planting the seeds in my head of compassion, understanding, acceptance, humility, and love before experiencing the craziness I would soon encounter.

I was five when my parents divorced. I lived with my dad and he married my step-mother when I was nine. I was 13 when my first half-brother was born.

I was my first best friend

I’m still my mother’s only child. The boy I was outside my house was different than the boy inside, accompanied mainly by his toys and imagination.

It was in first grade when I knew I didn’t feel a way toward girls that was expected. I was different and I knew it. I liked boys. I never felt bad because my feelings were natural and real. That’s when I began keeping secrets.

Early on, I mastered the art of deflection. I learned to adapt to situations, but I’ve never been a convincing liar.

I never wanted to be a convincing liar. I lied enough to others for 20 years about how I felt. However, I cannot and never will lie to myself.

That’s why I say – be your own best friend and listen to what you have to say.

There’s no point in lying to yourself

You’re the only one who knows your truth. One of life’s greatest rewards is having a friend who understands you and isn’t afraid to bring you down a notch or two. You can’t be that friend to anybody else until you’re that friend to yourself.

You learned to write for a reason

Writing your thoughts on paper is one of the most effective ways to have a meaningful conversation between you and yourself – especially if you talk to yourself. If you can read it, you can talk yourself through it. You don’t have to keep it. Burn it when you’re done. The goal is to give yourself the candid advice you’d give anyone else.

Always ask yourself, “Why?”

One of the hardest things to do is change your mind. It can be a process and it can take years. It depends how stubborn you can be and it’s not always easy to question whoever’s responsible for you thinking the way you do.

All I can say to that is listen to your inner voice. You’re doing yourself a disservice if you think a certain way because someone told you how to think. There’s nothing wrong with questioning what you’ve been told to believe.

Just remember

Your life is what you make it. It’s a gift that someone else can easily rip away from you. It’s an opportunity to know your true self. It’s your responsibility to make sure you’re driving. Pick the battles you’re willing to see through a new lens. You might like what you see. You might not. At least you can sleep every night comforted by the fact that you tried.

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‘Bad Blood’ – A Story of Perspective

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We unite with hashtags. We fight with hashtags. We beg for help with hashtags.

It takes a tragedy like Paris for us to see a wave of humanity. Then, we return to divisive behavior preventing us from learning about, or liking, each other.

Technology evolves quicker than our ability to communicate. We read headlines and share them blindly. Online coverage of anything can be spun 50 ways, but our lives shouldn’t be.

This story is an example of how easily we lose perspective. Satire and sarcasm are shared and people believe it’s real. Non-issues become issues overnight. Trolls and stubborn stances ignite vitriol.

We need to treat each other better, and it starts with us.

Pop lore says Bad Blood is Taylor Swift’s betrayal-anthem to Katy Perry. I think a dancer is involved, possibly a boyfriend. However, this isn’t about them.

This is about my (hypothetical) former friendship with the most coveted BFF in the world.

The first time I heard Bad Blood, I knew it was about me. I obviously hurt Taylor and I’m on a mission to apologize. I saw all her popular friends in the video and that hurt real bad. I mean I have tits too, I could have been a bad girl supporting a revenge metaphor!

Here’s the situation.

Taylor won’t answer my calls, and text apologies are lame; I’m laying it out so we can move on. Besides, there’s nothing more sincere than a public apology, especially, when that’s where the fighting takes place.

Bad-Blood-1-Catastrophe
I caused this, not Katy. Bullet holes is a little dramatic, but who am I to argue. She didn’t like what I said.

The title says it all. Bad is bad and seeing blood isn’t good – let that sink in for a second. Now, think about Katy Perry believing that was about her. It’s been a lot for me to carry and my back is starting to curve.

I always intended to apologize but, like Taylor, I’m a giver and I wanted to send the perfect gift with my apology. But, what do you give someone whose other best friend is Hot and Cold who kissed a girl and liked it? I am a boy, after all.

I was watching Dance Moms when the bulb lit. If it were a dancer, it would kicked me in the head.

Create a reality show for Taylor!

I’m waiting for Taylor to name the show since it’s her show, and I don’t need another song written about me.

The show is about a dancer and Paula Abdul is the choreographer. Paula was at the height of her music career in ’89 when the world received Taylor – it’s poetic.

The show is in Vegas – every dancer’s wildest dream!

Taylor is mama bird and she nurtures baby bird – a dancer discovered on Instagram – resulting in baby bird signing a Vegas contract without any drama!

Friends
Can we see this again? Credit: Kevin Mazur/WireImage

My wildest dream is for baby bird to land on Katy’s very own Vegas stage and perform an interpretive dance to Roar.

Imagine Taylor in the front row while she and Katy crinkle their noses and paw at each other all cute like!

This will prove their blood is, in fact, good and she never expected any contract dancer (or boyfriend) to be loyal.

Lofty goals, right? I best get to apologizing.

The reason I didn’t name Taylor’s show (I’m thinking The Bird Nurturer) is because naming things caused our falling out. Taylor names everything. She names her songs. She names her cats. She probably names her fans’ cats. I think there’s a hashtag for that.

CatNose
Kats or Cats? I can’t wait for Taylor to unite Katy’s fans for her!

I even suggested she choose whether Katy’s fans are Kats or Cats. Bring a litter box for that shit storm! Fans of pop stars are a protective bunch, even with infighting.

Even more protective are pop starts, themselves, when it comes to what they call their fans.

Our turmoil began when I told Taylor I thought she should call her fans The Swizzle Sticks with the hashtag #tswizzlesticks to unite their online musings. I told her I thought her name should be Mother Swizzle Sticks because she is like their mother.

Her face went blank space. Never question an accomplished artist’s creativity and definitely lay off their fans. Role models with millions of underage fans won’t refer to them as drink accessories.

She accused me of trying to turn parents against her by encouraging underage drinking. She reminded me she’s a role model. Then, she asked me, persistently, if I knew what she was and wouldn’t relent until I screamed, “Role model!”

She accused me of talking to Katy because pop star espionage is real.

The damage was done. Trust flew out the window like a baby bird.

She told me it was so sad to think about the good times she and I had, but now we got problems.

I asked her, can we solve them? She said she didn’t think we could.

I asked her, do we still have mad love? She said we used to.

That’s a no. I hope we can put this behind us; we were so good together.

In addition to her show (hopefully called The Bird Nurturer), I created a new app because she needs more cash. It’s called Pocket Squad.

LordeNTaylorYour squad walks around your screen while you control everything about them. It’s perfect for members of squads. You can make them get eaten by a shark or pace back and forth all day. You can make birds poop on them or strike them with lightning. They can live on a beach or jungle. It’s your squad!

Basically, it’s what you wish you could do to your real life squad.

Taylor, I’m sorry. Call your fans whatever you want. Come on, old friend – I miss our mad love! #think-about-the-good-times-you-and-i-had!

It shouldn’t take a coordinated attack to remind us the hostility among ourselves is senseless.

I hope we can learn to keep perspective without the harsh reminders.

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