Do you know what happens in 100 days?
Your life happens.
And that is everything.
100 days ago, I believed red sparkly shoes and take me home mantras could send you to Kansas, I’ve always believed that, but there is no language that can vocalize what bubbles have floated down, melted away, and manifested. I am dreaming and everything is real. There is no place like now.
In 100 Days I found my courage, my brain, and my heart. Follow your own road. 🌈
You ARE the Wizard you seek.
What yellow brick roads would you journey on to find everything you loved? If the key to the Emerald City was presented to you to do what you loved, would you do it every day? What if you woke up each morning knowing so strongly of what you loved that every agreement you made from the food and information you consumed, to how you responded when things didn’t go quite right, to how you sleep, to how you move your body, to how you define yourself was all carefully curated that deep galaxy within.
What do you love? Think about it… Your life depends on it. 💯
Every day is the biggest day of your life!
Suddenly that phrase “Keep it 100!” all makes sense!
I am so sure of everything, the road I am traveling on is not made of brick nor is it yellow. My mind is mine. The mistakes I make are mine. The words I write are mine. The time I wake up is mine. Good or bad, big or small, happy or sad, what I put out in the universe comes back and that energy is all mine. It was NOT all mine 100 days ago.
I never gave myself a date or a length of time on how long I would not drink. I just stopped. 100 days ago, I found myself in my bed praying to the all Powerful Great Oz (a.k.a. God), something I hadn’t ever done in my adult life. How do you ask God for something when you don’t know exactly what to ask for? How do you ask God for something when you can’t give anything back? Everything comes with a price.
The incubus, the circles, the toilet, the hole… There are many reasons why I stopped drinking and can be read here and here. I AM NOT AN ALCOHOLIC, but in the bluntest form, I am indeed sober. In plain site, I’ve had bottles of alcohol in my home this entire time and the only thing I am addicted to is muffins from Java Man in Hermosa Beach (my happiest place on earth).
Is it that surprising to just want to better yourself? People change outfits and diets and jobs every day. When I say the words, “I stopped drinking 100 days ago,” new acquaintances almost always think I’m a recovering alcoholic, and that’s sad. I’ve been asked if I attend meetings and if addiction runs in my family. No and no. When explaining to old friends why I stopped drinking, they take it that I’m putting their drinking habits down and try to tell me I don’t have a drinking problem to justify that they don’t have one. The thing is, if you think you have a problem, then YOU DO. Thoughts become things. Drinking became a problem.
I stopped drinking for me and no one else. It took away from EVERYTHING I loved.
I like an occasional cocktail. I’m a certified whisky taster. I miss a lot that comes with drinking like catching up with friends at bar and DATING! I had no idea that not drinking for 100 days would also mean NOT DATING FOR 100 DAYS (unfortunately L.A. men don’t seem to know how to take a gal out somewhere other than a bar or into a dark forest with lions, and tigers, and bears).
Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the things you love. If doing what you love was so easy, then everyone would be doing it, but I hardly know anyone that does and lives and leads with just love…. except Glenda of course.
100 days later I sit here, writing The Last Generation, in a beautiful space with the most extra-un-ordinary energy happening around me. This very moment is no coincidence, but it was one that I easily could have missed. The colors, the true colors of those I couldn’t see clearly are vibrant and the contrast is stark. The angels who have flown down and entered my life are from simply from Oz (God). This time has been an unexpended journey with a ho ho ho and ah ah ahah in a magical land of artists from far away places and it has widened my map and routes to be curious about. Some of those routes go through whispering dark forests and I fear so much, but let the bridges I burn light my way and my screams of terror echo between mountains and SHAKE THE EARTH SHAKE.
I am sexier than ever, my skin is glowing, my mind is expanding, and my heart is power.
100 days from now, I expect nothing but the present.
Never say never. Alcohol is my poison today, but may not be tomorrow. All I know so surely is that I am in love and I will fuck up anything that tries to take that away.
In 100 days, I met the love of my life and that’s myself.
What will you do in the next 100 days? Where is your Emerald City? Remember, the Wizard is you. You are the only one with the answers to your questions.
There is no place like now.
I have every flavor of LaCroix in my refrigerator and I often find myself craving something I can’t quite put my tongue on. I went to a magic pumpkin, rubbed it three times, wished for my own personal flavor of LaCroix and POOF! I turned into a can of my very own flavor.
If you don’t like me, acquire some taste.
Flavor: Supernatural The Last Generation Warrior Water
Requires: A blunt palette
Ingredients: No Fucks. No Rules. Bullshit Free.
Best if Drank By: People born between 1984 and 1989
Intention: You are what you drink.
MORAL OF THE STORY
100 days can be traveled because time is distance.
Thoughts become things. Be careful what you wish for.💫Know your poison. If you know your poison 🤢 and you keep poisoning yourself, then there are unimaginable things, places, and experiences you will lose out on. Get it before it gets you.☠️
A SPECIAL SPOOKY👻THANK YOU TO
Kids, there is this magical patch floating in-between deep space and the Emerald City, a block from my house, with psychedelic pink pumpkins, random bubbles floating up from hay, and if you’re lucky it will rain TEARS OF LACROIX😂! I don’t know how they do it! Thank you so much for allowing me to get down with my dance moves and soul stealing mirrored camera. Flying Monkeys, go get a pumpkin from dis realm and den hit me up, I’ll make you some ancient tree tea!
SOME LONG TIME LOVE ❤️
Lucy and Chris and the entire 631 V. crew. It’s been a long time and thank you for always keeping me in your clock whilst I jump through extended worm hole time warps.
I believe in soulmates. Everyone you meet, you are meant to meet and there are some that can strike you so fast with their magic. To my soulmates at Hermosa Beach Artist Collective, you are part of it, you are IN… My angels from below. 😇 You are my munchkins!
To Nick, Chewy, & Daniel from Java Man☕️, you are the only men who have ever been able to wake me up in the morning.
To my mystery readers, you so creepy and I love it. 🙏🏽
To myself, you are so fucking rad, it blows my mind. 💁🏼🔥
ANOTHER SHORT STORY BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK NOT?
Listen to what the universe is trying to tell you. I have a saga of stories about butchered haircuts. Every time I sit with a ‘stylist,’ I am so specific to how I want my hair cut. I bring in photos and have notes written to make sure the communication is clear. Two years ago, the day before I went to Paris to soul-search, I got my hair cut to have some fresh locks before I hit the streets of Boulevard Raspail and Rue Didot. I got butchered like a crappy part of a ham. When I arrived to Paris, I was so upset that for three days I frantically searched for hair extensions and couldn’t stop complaining about my fucking hair. I was in MY CITY! I was in mother-fucking-Paris, and all I could think about was my hair. I’m ashamed of that time. Since, I’ve chopped it all off and made a promise to myself that I would never let my hair or my looks take another once-in-a-lifetime moment from me. I have NOT lived up to this. I’ve had a few terrible cuts to the point where I feel like a boy, have cried, will wake up with an upset stomach, and will refuse to look in the mirror. This coming week, I have a meeting that means everything to me, literally everything. I’m so grateful and nervous, but I AM SO READY FOR IT. I debated on getting my haircut before it to look my best, but due to past experiences, I felt hesitant about changing something that was already fine the way it was; especially before a big meeting. The ‘fuck it’ instead of ‘fuck that’ girl in me decided to get it cut. I went to my same stylist who had really nailed it down before. We talked about what I wanted, I showed her photos, and I said “just an inch off, but the same exact cut as before”. 1 inch turned into 4 and here I am with a short short bob. For the first time I didn’t cry over a bad hair cut, instead my sweet beautiful soul hair stylist felt so bad that she started to cry and that’s when I decided this superficial shit is not worth a single tear, especially when a kind human cries. Hair grows back. I woke up this morning with knots in my gut and panicked thinking I needed to get hair extensions, but then I forced myself to face the mirror, it was not easy to put my hair down and to look at it. I learned something… The universe keeps giving me bad haircuts because I have not yet let go of what I need to let go of. Like Paris, the I have a once in a life time meeting. I may not get another one. If I think my hair is going to change the synergy of that meeting and define me then I need not go. So stupid. I’m letting it go.
Sip on some LaCroix and get what you fuckin’ want.👊🏾
Notes: I don’t have rights to the Miley Cyrus, Younger Now song. Duh… But it makes me feel like glitter, so whatever, instead of suing me (ain’t got no dough anyways), just hire me to make cool shit for you! Miley, thank you and I so sorry for using yo song. LOVE U!
SUBSCRIBE SO I KNOW WHO IS CREEPIN!👁