Chelsea Talks Smack

Familiar things. Insomnia and....where are all the men in this town?

2012-01-12T09:47:00.000-08:00

“Can we take a nap?”

They were the first words that spilled out of my mouth when we saw each other, in our comfortable familiar place, with familiar sounds, of puppies nails on the kitchen floor scurrying to give me a nuzzle around my ankles. It was a home where I’d spent days and hours working from the study, digging into the homemade granola that tasted different because they kept it in the fridge (and I liked it that way, because it was how they did it) making myself egg sandwiches and sifting through pictures of him as a little boy.

It was a home where I’d fallen in love with his family, where we’d had our first fight, where I napped. Because I felt safe enough there.

The energy I’d exerted, working myself up to be in his presence again without falling to pieces was enough to take me out for a week. With his basement windows, covered, 2pm sunlight aching to break through…. I could’ve hibernated there for the rest of the year. A year that I was so terrified of letting go of, because I knew that what was to come would be new and different and perfect, but every event, every holiday, every weekend and milestone would occur without him in it, or with him but a different "him." Valentines day would come again, as would summer, BBQ’s and St. Patty’s Day… Monday afternoon and Friday morning and all of them, unlike the memories before would be missing something familiar.

“Yes, we can do that….” He said, the outline of his shape so acquainted with the outline of mine and how we fit. I wanted him somewhere familiar. Somewhere that I was used to having him. In bed. Comfortably. Guards down. Equal playing field.

So we napped. We napped, because I wanted to trick myself for an hour, or two, or however long I could stay asleep- into thinking that we were “Us” and that life would SLOW for me. Those two seconds when you open your eyes and forget that the landscape has shifted. I wanted two seconds.

See, I have trouble sleeping a lot of time, he was always sort of my, “Sleep Whisperer” he told me stories, or he talked me out of nightmares- often, ones that I had about him- when I was asleep I was safe. Just the presence of him, the rhythm of his breath and the warmth of his body was enough to lull me….somewhere else. Somewhere cosmic and uninterrupted. It was the time that I trusted him the most, because he wasn’t meddling, or planning, or seeking someone different.

We were Us and we were simple. Sleeping.

Often holding hands, on our backs. Our different languages didn't get in the way and fuss with things, there.

I hadn’t seen him in months and we complicated things by using too many words anyway (something I'm guilty of more often than not), conversation could wait... I just wanted to nap. So we did.

It's odd, actually- It’s been surprisingly easy and uncomplicated- but quite possibly the most profound and complex situation I’ve ever found myself in all at once. It’s like, centuries ago in different lives when we were both kings and queens, paupers and peasants, we fulfilled our promise to one another, to love forever and ever and ever….and this time around, it just wasn’t in the cards. But, our souls still know the difference….

When he’s in trouble, on some Greyhound, on some quest for his Higher Self through alchemy and crystals, meditation circles and smoke signals, in the middle of the desert, running away….I text, “Are you okay?”

When I’m looking at the pack of cigarettes on my kitchen table, a nasty habit we formed together, my phone buzzes and says, “….Don’t smoke cigarettes ☺….”

When my heart is so full, so aching, so overwhelmed- he says, “I’m going to shine 33 seconds of light on you….” and for 33 seconds I feel just a little bit better.

We’re so obviously not meant to be with one another- but we still….just. love. So much.

He knows, he KNOWS how much I want the whole “dream.” I want a partner. I want an equal. I want my prince to look me in the eye and say, “let’s do this THING.”

Enough time has gone by now that I see what it is that I want. The problem is, I can easily find men who fill in categories where he was lacking…. I can find missing “pieces”- but it isn’t “missing pieces” that’s the goal. It’s the whole thing.

He knew…that I was shiny. He saw that I shined. While, now…. I can barely get a boy who I have a crush on to return a text message?

He knew that I existed in both simple and complicated frames of mind at the same time, that I was equal parts ambition and dedicated lover. That I was lay-down-in-the-middle-of-the-mother-fucking-train-tracks for you, loyal, but never. Ever. A doormat.

That I was worth being treated like a fucking goddess, but not to feed ego, or pride or some chicky insecurity, but because I would treat HIM like a my counterpart and that together we were celestial, powerful and treasured, because WE valued each other. We said without saying, “I see you.” Soul understanding, ya see?

He knew that I would be a mother who picked two books every night, acted out ALL THE VOICES…. and always stretched “bedtime” with room for two more…..

He knew that I was “too much…” but he would never want me to operate and FEEL like I was. LIGHT IS NOT MEANT TO BE DIMMED DOWN OR DIMINISHED.

So, while we can nap and love one another, in different times and spaces, presently and nostalgically- he’s still a boy. On a journey, one different than mine. We were a We once, but now we aren’t and the times that I want to say, “I wish you were here…” and he says, “I’m exactly where I need to be.” I know that he’s right.

….and I guess, so am I. Exactly where I need to be.

I just wonder, will anyone else ever see me… through a lens as transparent as his….or, will they even try?

WHAT ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT TODAY.....?

Look around Little Dreamer......

2011-12-26T15:21:00.000-08:00

It's interesting what you see when you decide to view it from another angle.

...Like, right now- I'm sitting on the floor of my childhood bedroom, a floor I've cried on, meditated on, made love on (sorry Mom, Hi Dad, sorry.) On this floor, I'm usually facing one direction- towards where the door is, but tonight- I'm facing another wall.... again, a wall I've stared at a million times- I see different parts of Me from here.

There's a stack of sheet music under my bed, for instance- one book has a 100 songs, the other about fifty plus. I've only sang, mmm, 25? There's a birdhouse, an unpainted one. Some dried up paints.... one of my Great Grandmother's vintage feathered hats....

There are two canvases hanging on the wall, from when I went through the inescapable "painting phase," that us adolescent creative-types experience, despite actual talent for it. On them are pictures of Janis, Jimmy, Mick and lyrics from soul songs.

...To my left, a present from last Christmas that I never took out of the box, it feels like I received it yesterday. Apparently, "I'll do it later..." i.e. take-present-out-of-box, never happened- just like a lot of the things I say I'll "do later..." don't happen, not out of lack of caring, but out lack of attention to what you know matters to you. Painting silly futile bird houses. Singing all 100 of those songs. Caring for your gifts, pun intended and not intended, I suppose.

A guitar case. A portfolio from an old flame. Bunnies. Records. A painting of a little pixie girl blowing kisses to a group of canaries. A Writers Market book. Lanyards. A dreamcatcher. TREASURES AND PROJECTS...always projects, only treasures. Shall we go on a treasure hunt?

A vintage camera. Folders upon folders of poems and scripts, monologues, essays- most of which I've written, or studied and fell in LOVE WITH. Words and stories that nursed me, that I wanted to tell and live through.

An Andy Warhol wig. A bulletin board covered in mini-accomplishments; show fliers, ticket stubs, postcards and a little painting of a field full of poppies given to me from a painter in Florence. A room painted crimson red and beige, with obnoxious red splotches on the ceiling from stubbornly deciding to paint the room myself, damnit. A reminder of determination and brave choices.

See, when you forget who you are....you just have to look around.

I never know how to handle New Year's. It's always a little melancholy to me. I don't want to let go of the things that morphed me through the year, the people and the experiences that GREW ME.

For being a Gypsy you think I'd be better at Goodbyes.

I put an incredible amount of pressure on myself, where I'm going, where I've been...if I'm "on the right track." Peering too far ahead makes me all... disappointed in myself. No matter my accomplishments and that has to stop. This is my dream, why wouldn't the things I dream within it be a reality....if it's all the same thing?

This last year was so full, to the brim and while I've been home all of that unsettled stuff has tapped gently on my shoulder and reminded me that it still has a presence, that it lingers. That sometimes all you need is to see a glimpse of what "was" and all the dots connect again. The familiarity rushes back, the shape and structure of him, of it, of us and me, of hoping. They all... fit, still.

A reminder that the past and the present aren't separate from one another and that what I WENT through is still what I'm going through and most importantly that who I was, is who I AM, even when I am changing.

I'm not one for resolutions, because I like to actively remind myself, daily to find RESOLVE, FORTITUDE AND INTENTION. So, I'll say this much... look around when you feel off track. Look, Chels. Do you see yourself?

Do it often. Be picky about the things and the people that you keep because they will be your reminders. Light and dark exist at once. Bitter and sweet, are sometimes the most delicious combo. That all of it- the dreams, the past, the future are one. thing. Nothing is separate.

Make more time to let things sink in. Demand it. To really chew on something for awhile. To give attention and to make solid. REAL time for shenanigans and trifling.

..For Real Talk with your kaleidoscope mind and your little, little voice inside that big, big soul.

....find resolve in being GENTLE, in being kind. In being patient with your mishaps and your uneasy footing. Change is a graceful and clumsy dance, let it sweep you.

When I think from the beginning to end of where I started last year, when the clock struck midnight to where I'll end up at midnight, this year, I can say this- it's been more and it's been less, it's been unexpected in both good and bad ways, all of that existing within the same perfect whole. I've had dreams all year that I'm going to the moon, must mean that's exactly where I am.

This is your dream. Look around.

Getting to the ROOT of it all....

2011-12-01T10:08:00.000-08:00

There’s this incredible tree, in front of my doorstep, that I marvel at everyday.

I just sort of sit and listen to it.

The way it moves, the way it lets the wind sort of take it and rustle its leaves. I don’t know what kind of tree it is, I don’t know how long it’s been there- but I know that it’s this magnificent organism that’s functioning, breathing, sustaining itself and there’s something about that, that I find incredible solace in.

There’s comfort in knowing that amidst the dis-order, there’s destined order and routine, the kind that doesn’t have any agenda, rather exists to remind you that when anything/everything falls you will still react to the wind, to the demands, to the seasons and you will grow anyway.

The tree lets the weather take hold of it and it still stands there, rooted, and oscillating yet steady.

This is sort of how I feel. About life. Being a part of this living, breathing, operating and cooperating organ, that is still strong and planted.

I have this thing, this thing in me that always tells me, “know more, learn me, BE more….” The other night over roasted Brussel Sprouts and San Bres I mentioned my desire to feel more adequate and equipped to create, share, and take in beautiful things; knowledge, literature, music, everything that I can sink my mind-teeth into and chew on and my dear friend Lisa, who, I’ll probably talk about here often- because she fell back into my life after years effortlessly and has since made me feel like I’ve come home to myself again- said, “You have to start with what you know…” or something along those lines, message being: delve deeper into what it is that already has a HOLD on you. And start from there.

I talk about this a lot, this whole “Bloom where you’re planted,” idea and as a natural gypsy with a suitcase packed by the door and an agenda for “the next thing” on the line at all times, I have to check back in and remind myself of what that actually means. Where are you planted? What are the things that make you bristle up with eagerness to BEGIN them, to be a part of them…. What turns that light, just a notch brighter?

I know myself, I’d like to think incredibly well. But, it’s always easy to forget- and there’s a difference between knowing yourself and BEING yourself.

The things that begin at the ROOT for me are:

Music, but not just any music- the music that wakes up the slumbering soul, the music that suggests you should “go there…” the music that suggests you should stand up, strip down the façade and just. Fuckin. Dance. The music that brushes against nerves and makes the heart pangs flinch into submission, the music that makes your chest cave in and hurt so good. My root is in utmost conviction, loyalty, and unwavering reliability as a friend, as a partner and as a family member. In knowing my damn priorities and not for a minute, second-guessing who and what is important and needs attention or care.

My root tap, tap, taps on my shoulder and says, “you’re going to do that someday….carry on…” my root reminds me that I am capable and intuitive, gifted and prepared.

My root is shamelessly a lover of the vices that make you feel good and in no apologies necessary, My Dear. My root is somewhere amongst the stars and the moon, castles on clouds and neck-bending beanstalks and all the ladders, spaceships, slingshots and time traveling machines that it takes to live in their company. My root whispers; connect, create, CHALLENGE, understand, observe, demand.

My root is in full transparency, no holds-barred, take it or leave it. With a side of, let’s all just get along and be those shiny, happy, people holding hands?

My root is in, “I don’t give a fuck, but please be gentle.” My root is in happy endings, once upon a time, There Once Was A Boy…. And dreams do come true, ya’ll.

My root is somewhere wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt with a change of ridiculousness tucked away, just in case.

My root is somewhere in time wearing Pippi Longstocking braids, sitting around a card table with family playing Apples to Apples, drinking cheap beer and talking about love and babies, or politics, or babies, love and politics.

My root is always saying- be patient, be kind, be authentic, BE OPEN… and don’t forget to fall in love, even just a little, with something or someone everyday.

What does the ROOT of yourself tell you???

On being positively irresponsible and healthily selfish. There's also a Tiger involved.

2011-11-22T09:20:00.000-08:00

I feel different.

It’s funny…. The days you think you’re supposed to feel different aren’t usually the days you do. Your birthday, usually just feels like another day and every year Christmas, Thanksgiving and Halloween inch further and further away from feeling special, especially without serious planning and allotted time for tradition and childlike enthusiasm (all of which seem to need a calendar date, otherwise they won’t happen.)

The days you’re supposed to feel a significant change aren’t real days, because change is subtle.

I was aware of the drastic changes that were happening but I was in emotional denial. Sure, I had played them out- I prepared, I packed, I said goodbye- but I wasn’t mindful of all the shifting beneath the surface. I didn’t foresee the emotional tectonic plates that were turning me into an entirely new continent and how much of me was subtly integrated into all of the details, the details that make up the BIG THINGS and by “how much” I mean…..everything. My entire makeup was defined by this lifestyle I’d created and I had gone so far away from what made me feel…..powerful and alive, for the sake of feeling secure and needed, that I’m now realizing what that means: there’s a lot of extra energy is inside of me.

There isn’t any “We,” there’s just a Me and when it’s just a YOU, you’re also the only one responsible for taking care of how you’re feeling. There isn’t a fallback, a default, an excuse- for lack of a better term, to not be doing everything in your power to FEED your happiness. To not binge on blissing the fuck out.

It’s all up to you sister. All that extra energy wants your attention….so what are you going to do with it?

Well let me tell you, I’m going to embrace it, recognize its force- which to be honest, is a little frightening at times- it’s like raising a house cat, then feeding it some Wheaties and realizing it’s a Tiger. But, despite not knowing what to do with a fucking Tiger, I will feel through every cell of my body what it means to be self sustaining, positively irresponsible, untethered, self- reliant. Selfish. Yeah, go on now Child, be a little selfish- it’s okay. You’re not a bad person.

In fact, I say INDULGE, INDULGE, INDULGE- in staying up too late, in reckless flirtation, in taking your time, in giving mixed signals because you like green and red, in holding cards, in lingering, in calling the shots, in tables set for one, in knowing YOUR decision is the right one and decisiveness can be quite a rush, in Pinot Noir, in Girlfriends Only time, in listening to a new story, in calling when I feel like it, in going for it….all of it.

I will indulge because I’ve just discovered that there’s been this bounty in front of me while I was busy foraging for food, on the wrong property. Thing is, this isn’t specific to LOVE this is specific to Living.

EXPECT MORE FROM PEOPLE and the energy they carry, bring, share- because making excuses for them won’t actually help them find their subtle shifts, the ones they need and you need, to wake up. To step up to version Rad.0 (mhm.) When there’s a million things on your to-do list, manage your extra oomph appropriately- surround it with the vibey responsiveness it deserves and you will sustain it. Notes, to self Chels.

But really, since I do have a thing for the L word….I feel different because I realize this….

….being in LOVE doesn’t have to be exclusive to being with A love, if you recognize that you are love.

Yeah.

Energy channeled.

When was the last time you felt "different...." and why?

Pay attention to your instinct. You've ALWAYS known....alternate title: I cannot be tamed and other wild things.

2011-11-15T09:58:00.000-08:00

“What is not as it appears? What do I know that I wish I did not know? What of me has been killed or lays dying?”

You know those moments when you read something and it sort of makes your heart skip a beat? The ::gasp:: happens. Then, the “Oh fuck” stomach drop hits like a sucker punch? You know the times. The times when you understand why ignorance is bliss and you’re pissed that you can’t just remain fucking blissful? Yeah, well.

When I read that sentence, from Women Who Run with the Wolves- a book that, in my opinion, needs to be on the bookshelf of every woman, (especially the ones seeking to live free, wildly, BRIGHTLY)- I literally set the book down and decided to process, the way you grieve and mourn- visceral and rapidly.

For the most part- this whole breakup, I’ve dealt with gracefully. I’ve been respectful and supportive, put his needs in front of mine…I've been trekking up the HIGH. ROAD. Wearing shiny sunglasses, peering onward and West, sans rearview mirror. I was everything I’ve needed to be for the both of us, to transition into this new period with dignity and acceptance….. so yeah, all of that happened- then somewhere between a bottle of wine and Saturday night mass emails to friends about how/why we’ve broken up, my inner resentment and I had a little TALK. A little come to Jesus, if you will. Spoken through a megaphone entitled, “Pinot Noir and Truffle Fries.”

There were things that were happening between us that I’d let myself say, “this too shall pass…” To say any of the reasons why we split came out of “left field” and sneak attacked me, would be playing the victim card and that’s not my gig. That would be a lie that I told myself to cope and frankly, I don’t have time for nonsense and lying anymore. There were things that I’d convinced myself would be “okay forever, till death do us part,” things that, in hindsight, are so far from okay the Old Me looks like she’s heavy on the crack pipe. Somewhere between acknowledging all of that and opening my inbox on Saturday night, to glass number three of my good friend Pinot- I realized, boo. Devil- I was so. Goddamn. Angry.

I wasn’t angry at him- in fact, I was the exact opposite. I was still proud and loving and maternal as every towards him. Him and I are still healthy and fantastic, no regrets. I still want him to be wildly, happy. I was….. angry at myself.

Angry at myself for getting THAT FAR AWAY FROM MY CENTER.

Angry at myself for not listening to what my intuition had told me all along. Not just one thing that I’d ignored, but a series of things. I was angry that my brain had loved someone so intensely that I was willing to accept something that, even in my happiest moments, I knew would eventually leave me sucked dry that to the point of needing him to continue. I was angry that I’d let myself love someone so hard, that I may not be able to actually care about ANYONE like that, to that capacity, with that optimism and faith….ever again.

The remnants of that betrayal towards myself all sort of…rose to the surface this weekend.

I realized; you know what Chelsea Belle, right now- you're worth letting someone worry about you, take care of you, show adoration and excitement in YOU. Let them open doors, let them chase, let them see that you aren't here to be tamed, but you're willing to let them run alongside you-- if they can keep up.

Forgive yourself for staying longer than you should, for wishing it was going to be something that it wasn't, for seeing ALL THE SIGNS and doing it anyway. For turning a blind eye, for compromising too much, for giving it all away. Ease your instinct back out of it's cave, because you need it.

Listen to yourself. PAY. FUCKING. ATTENTION. Question their motives and as much as you want to give your heart freely, be cautious of who you give it to. Not to say that I have regrets, because I do not- but this next time around, I will be alert. Demanding of honesty. Of utmost respect and transparency.

The core of our spirits have this incredible system that senses red flags, warns you of danger, stops you in your tracks. Don’t be silly with that Center that’s trying to protect you- recklessness is only so much fun, then your heart gets in the way and it’s brutal.

Forgive yourself for knowing, for sensing danger and running head first anyway. Revisit the parts of you that you let DIE and bring them back to life, because you can.

Instinct. Your feminine nature that just knows. EMBRACE THESE THINGS. My wild women. Run with the wolves again.

What part of yourself are you not listening to???

Making Space, Doing Cartwheels, Skipping beats. What a Vague Title.

2011-10-31T21:44:00.000-07:00

Now is the time to make space.

Space- internally, behind the doors, stuffed in the back of the drawers and underneath the layers of camouflaged emotion. Rummage through the spaces you reserved specifically for all the "junk," where you kept it "in case" you needed to use it as ammo in a moment of calamity, knowing it would be there to comfort you like an old friend. That stuff, that has to go now.

There's a curbside waiting for it's arrival and there's other visitors at your door.....ready to come in and start making a home. Infiltrating you with new words and new landscapes, new rhythms and exchanges. New whirling fantasies and pretty charm.

....they'll keep you on your toes, remind you of who you are and hint at who you're becoming.... be mindful to like this person, that they hint at. Warmly embrace them. Welcome the subtle transformations like you do the changing of the leaves or the growth of your hair.

One day it wasn't and the next day is just was. Steady metamorphosis.

Choose these people, these things, these surroundings- gingerly, with curiosity and optimistic hesitation. These are the characters that will hang their hats and kick up their feet, atop all of your treasures, the ones we see and the ones we don't...they'll complicate your plans and make appearances in your day-to-day thought patterns.... they'll consume parts of you, even if you are careful. Let the pieces they consume be some of your favorites, roll with it.

Rearrange some things, tilt your head and furrow your brows- mull it over. Dance about in the emptiness. Do leaps and somersaults and salutations in every direction, to every Moon and Sun and stars.

Let the openness of this new space scare you a bit...because being afraid is exhilarating, sweaty palms and racing hearts, navigating and mastering, speaking up and skipping beats-- it's just your heart reminding you that you are ALIVE. See that? Skip, skip.

I have so much space, cleared out- cleansed, if you will, and out of familiarity a part of me wants to complicate it, fill it up with things, write on the walls and OCCUPY it. DO ALL THE THINGS, BE ALL THE THINGS, KNOW ALL THE PEOPLE, HAVE ALL THE THINGS RIGHT NOW- and I think, the beat I'm following happens to be just the right rhythm. Must just let it be, Chels. Add one new piece at a time, surveying all the parts before they become a permanent fixture.

I like this, even the awkward, sometimes-blue-and-wistful-all-at-the-same-time parts. This space-y, skippy, 'fraidy-cat, cartwheeling me. Just one piece at a time little chick.......

How much SPACE do you have in your heart and your life?

Gypsy Girls. All the Love & My New Gig.... HUZZAH!

2011-10-18T13:25:00.000-07:00

For most people, change usually goes something like this; something major happens and the moments to follow are greeted with a steady routine of processing first, adjusting second, adapting and continuing, third. That's for most people.

For people like me, change is usually followed up with a plane ticket. Most of the time, the plane ticket is one direction only….. A few weeks ago, I packed a carry-on bag, for my one way trip to LA Livin' on a prayer really, hoping that something would "work out." I'd been looking for job opportunities in the city since May and NOTHING. WAS. HAPPENING. I started to think I was being Sixth Sensed. Dead and didn't know it yet. Or something equally fucked up where the world just doesn't respond to your desperate pleas for change.

.....the instant I got to LA, with my seven outfits and my Non-Plan Plan, I realized why nothing had worked beforehand. I hadn't made the statement yet that I was ready for it to.

When I got here, after two weeks of an whiplash inducing, stomach churning, emotional rollercoaster rides, sans cotton candy and over-stuffed prizes--- Saying Goodbye to one life and Hello to a new one, holding onto the ledge still with one hand and reaching for New with the other, I let go. No net.....and like they always say it does, one appeared.

The day before I was about to go back home to get the remainder of my things and come back, (still with no job, a few freelance clients, a mangled soul, dwindling money and nowhere to live) OR stay in my room for the rest of eternity feeling sorry for myself, I got a phone call. About a job. A really. fucking. fantastic. job. After a few back and forth interviews, I was offered a dream position that I didn't think existed. I've taken a position for a small company that (in simple terms) assists high-profile clients, celebrities and their brands across all digital/social platforms. i.e. I get to work with amazing creative, inspiring people strategizing how to translate their awesomeness offline, online. And everyone knows what a Pop Tart I am, so working with some of my favorite celebrities on a daily basis is BASICALLY THE BEST THING EVER.

After the job was a go, the apartment fell into place, the dream neighborhood, the great furniture, the move was.....like butter. Smooth, easy, delicious. Not that I'm calling Butter slutty or anything.

Ironically, I live across the street from this lovely bird, who's an old friend (and fantastic blogger) and a few of my best friends in the entire world live in town, which means a lot of hair braiding and couch cuddling and all the drinking. The support system is incredible. Openly, unabashedly…. just, starry eyed, you-are-totally-fucking-stellar sort of adore these people.

My Ex-Love and I parted maturely, packing up my U-Haul together, moving pieces and making room like Tetris with our lives and our heart. Fitting. I miss him, everyday, I send love and light (I cry a little, or a lot) and then I continue. One foot in front of the other. Embracing all that's in front of me and sending smiles to all that is behind me and living, still, inside of me.

Gypsy Girl is used to describe the general way in which I approach life; freely, with optimism, story worthy characters, a little absinthe and a eagerness for adventure. She's back, my friends.

...sure... maybe she's running away, but she is running towards something. Even if that "something" is just a new perspective, inspired by looking at the same situation from a different angle. I like who I am when I'm moving. When I'm active, when there's demands on me and expectations that that I may not be able to live up to (but I will, boom.) Imposed pressure turns me on. So here we go.

Back to the Gypsy that I was....

Here's to all the uncomfortable, awkward, perfectly ripe and eager NEWNESS that is upon us.

WHAT'S HAPPENING IN YOUR WORLD MY BEAUTIES??

Butterflies. Booze. and HOLY SHIT SO MUCH IS CHANGING.

2011-09-22T17:00:00.000-07:00

On my way to see My Love the other day I noticed a group of girls, about eight or nine years old....skipping alongside a reservoir, picture perfect really--- I loved that they had time to skip, I remembered having that time, what it was like....to be joyful enough to just skip, unprovoked.

….these little ones, skipping, were holding a net. Probably for bugs, or fish....or maybe, for butterflies. I was charmed by that idea.

The idea that when you leave your house, you will encounter a butterfly and that butterfly will willingly, settle into your net, long enough for you to marvel at it.

I loved the optimism of it all...... capturing a butterfly, with no door, no motivation or expectation- no way to cage it in, just for a moment, to marvel and let it go.

Sort of what we do in life right? Look for something delicate and miraculous, something so fancy and unique and utterly beautiful, so we can hold it in our hands, open palms and just hope that it stays.

It’s been interesting. This change.

I heard my inner voice fighting without my rationale, “But I still love him” and gently, like a a schoolteacher placing her hands on top of your tiny ones, fumbling and frustrated trying to your laces, my Other Voice said, “Then, love him.”

Then, love him.

...so that’s what I did. Just, loved him--with no real place of belonging for that love to land. Just, Open heart, flexible mind...sort of love.

I spend so much time PLOTTING life-- writing lists, planning the next step, plotting “the way.” Almost, like I’m trying to find a loophole so that everything can go the way that I planned it, instead of they way fate plans it. Dodging under beams and ladders. Starting with a running leap. Anything to just make sure there’s no mishaps.

...then you realize, life happens to you. it HAPPENS to you, whether you’re plotting, dodging, scheming, or not. It just. happens.

Let it... (Ohhh, HA! so that’s surrender, gotcha Lesson.)

Then, the way the new pieces fit into your life will feel less clunky, less awkward---they’ll settle into their nooks....in due time, of course. You’ll walk around holding all this New in your hands, thinking, “what in the fuck do I do with this? I don’t know where to put this.” Until, eventually...you’ll decide to replace certain pieces and it’ll feel like surgery, it’ll feel like sticky, reluctant excavation...but you’ll do it anyway. To free up your hands.

Life is shifting in the most bittersweet and beautiful way...... and all I can hope, is that I’m here palms up, open, ready for my Butterfly to land. That’s what I wish for you.

ARE YOUR PALMS OPEN OR CLOSED??

The Saddest Goodbye......

2011-09-11T22:00:00.000-07:00

It's amazing....how swiftly dividing up your Life can be, when everything becomes Yours and Mine, and Ours isn't an approved possessive anymore.

In hindsight, we both knew. We just knew how hard it was going to be to finally walk out, the courage hadn't matured strongly enough, yet to fight through it.

It was about 6 weeks.....6 weeks, where I looked at him differently, every time we did anything, trying to etch it into my brain, burn it so deep that it would never leave.....since I knew, eventually it would. Silly things, ya know? The fuzz on his tummy, the shapes of his toes..... the sound he made when he put his nose on top of my head, taking me in. I watched my brain move through memories of his stories and ideas, our dreams together, and I grasped, hand over hand....trying to bottle them up, somewhere safe. Preserved.

This time, it's different. There was a very clear point, when we both new we had to let each other....be. We walked away knowing we'd literally given each other every inch. No regrets.

I watched my cigarette burn down, my eyes full to the brim, flooded with overwhelming ache...... "Can I please stay here tonight?"

We both wanted one more evening, where we could act as if we still belonged to each other. One more night, one more morning with sleepy heads nestled into one another....one more coffee run, one more nightcap before everything changed.

I held him in the dark, heart pulsing, shaking, our bodies fitting perfectly- the way they did....

"I feel so empty, I feel so dead."

In the way he always knew how to calm me, "Chels, you're more alive than ever. You're more ALIVE than ever." The rawness of my pain was so clearly, LIVING, breathing on the surface of me...throbbing, accessible, conscious.

"Everything in my future has you in it.... I don't want us to be done." Time always stopped together....I felt, if I just kept holding on, we'd never be apart. We were planning things, always- we were moving in October, to a new state...we'd met our "Someday" family, in our dreams...we already liked them, welcomed them...their tiny toes and their feistiness. I couldn't let them go.

"THIS IS YOUR DREAM..... YOU HAVE THE WHOLE UNIVERSE INSIDE OF YOU."

He said to me, while I hid myself inside of his arms, the ones I thought were made specifically for me. He was right, this was my Dream...he was my dream, and now....I had to walk away, knowing with my entire heart that we did every. single. thing we could.....some circumstances are just, unchangeable.

I have the whole Universe inside of me.....and one beautiful love story, that has strengthened my heart, opened me to the most vulnerable place- changed me, irreversibly.

We packed up my things, working together-- silently in sync.... detached still from the profound sadness that had now began to augment our lives.

"Promise me, you'll never feel alone.... you'll never look at the phone and think that there's no one on the other end to call."

He was, is, my Person. He said to me once, "Our souls have seen each other" and I know that they have, to the deepest capacity.

When I was sad, he'd say "I see you." When I was defeated, he'd say, "You love yourself....remember?" He'd known me...he knew my layers and how to remind me of them, when I'd forgotten and I knew his.

We sat there, on the bed, our bed---eating pizza, more for the activity than the nourishment....and he lifted his glass, piercing into me with those perfect blue eyes,"Cheers.....to our overwhelming success."

It was what he'd always said to me when we toasted. Finally, it actually made sense.

We, were successful. We love(d) so deep, so selflessly, cosmically.... we tried. We grew. We sacrificed.

As we divided our things into His and Mine....I knew, there was one thing that would never be divided, apparently....souls can't do that.

So.....My Love, as you will always be to me, here's to teaching me how big my heart actually is, to how magnificent it is to feel that love reciprocated and to our journey, together and now apart....

....I will love you. Cheers, to our overwhelming success.

IT'S ALL GOING TO BE OKAY SUGARPLUMS.

2011-09-01T07:18:00.000-07:00

Photo Cred: Le Love

It’s important to sit. To waste time. To give your thoughts breathing room.

To having “wasting time” be a goal.

To feel the weight of it all. To feel sadness and aches, for no reason....when everything is perfect. And then, to be jolted like a slingshot into joy when it flashes across you. Wildly, unexpectedly...the surprise guest, the kind you wear your party dress for...hoping they’ll come again soon.

Bask. Mope. Drag your feet, deliberately.

Nimbly tracing, with the tips of your fingers, all the way to the end of the rope, where the fraying first began- inch, by inch. Don’t skip a moment.

Pace. Play it on repeat. Pay attention to the detours and not just the destination.

Feel sorry for yourself, silently. Ride it out.

Demand tears to come, not “if necessary,” but always necessary. Insist on hammering it out.

Lay on the floor, for an indefinite amount of time. In every room of the house. Sit in the shower....draw smiley faces on door and watch them drip.

Drift off. To sleep. To that room in your brain that you haven’t explored yet. To nostalgia, where you've convinced yourself "things were better."

Watch yourself cry in the mirror. Notice a new way in which your face moves and wonder how many people know that specific way in which it moves and think of it any time they hear your name. Associate yourself with that face....tell yourself a sad story. Imagine conversations, that haven't happened.

Stare into your coffee cup. Let your eyes tell a story, so you don't have to keep repeating it....your brain already does enough of that.

Do less for awhile.

Regret the Tipping Point. You know there would be one....eventually... you just rolled the dice.

There's never enough time, is there?

Drink too much. Have a marathon day. Do less for awhile, so you feel less guilty about DOING IT ALL.

Admit you need tending. Forgive yourself, for knowing all along.

Ignore nothing.

Wake up. Put your hands, over your heart...... and remember, It's all going to be okay. Every single thing.

On not being such a bitch and Embracing Opposition.

2011-08-22T08:56:00.000-07:00

I've always been disciplined with my thoughts......clear, certain and unwavering.

When I was 17 I was a Monster, just laser focus....I wasn't wishy-washy about my future or overly invested in which college I was going to....I didn't attach myself to relationships and circumstances, I had one goal. one idea and absolutely nothing, (love/family included) that would hold me back from that.

I was on a strict diet, the word BREAD didn't even touch my brain-- let alone touch my lips. I would sing in my bathroom until my vocal chords bled, until I could hit a note perfectly....and consistently. I woke up, did my homeschooling, went to the gym, went to dance (or acting, or singing lessons...or all three) then I would curl into my first loves arms around 12am, while cradling an Atkins Bar and a To-Do list. I was fucking serious.

......five years later. I was worn out. I'd flogged myself internally with the belief that "you are not 'good enough,' unless someone else says so...." I wanted my power back.

Then, one day, I decided.....I'm going to try to be KINDER to myself. ::Sometimes cupcakes are "okay":: sort of kind. The sort of kind that didn't wake up in a sheer panic if I slept past 9am on a Sunday morning, because the guilt I'd induced upon myself to be "disciplined" was so demanding. I started becoming the kind of kind that said, "Hey....its okay if you dont feel like hustling today....watch a goddamn movie, eat something fried in butter, stop overanalyzing your future, say fuck it, maybe even stop talking shit about your hair..."

Slowly but surely I started feeling less and less hateful towards myself for not being "perfect."

Note, slowly. but. surely. I was not an eager beaver sprinting in the race towards "Self-Love." I kicked and screamed and clung to the shreds of fear that said "...but, but, if I'm NICE to myself, I'll become lazy?"

I was terrified of accepting the reality that either way---whether you torture yourself or let it be, certain things in life are out of your hands. Gripping onto anything will end up suffocating it.

So...I started being kind, I tried new jobs, I left L.A., I traveled without worrying that I'd "miss a job opportunity," I even started allowing myself to consider the reality that perhaps, I wanted MORE than all of this; I wanted family? A serious relationship? To actually feel.....validated and accepting of myself, MORE than I wanted the approval from anyone else. I wanted A WHOLE life. Not just a couple shiny statement pieces that went back in a drawer at the end of the evening---mama wants the whole damn ball.

Honestly- I'm still struggling with reversing the thoughts that I've weaved into my DNA, about what it means to "want it all.." about what you have to sacrifice for "career," about what "happiness" looks like....My Love said the other day you have to "start where your feet are planted." When the root of your soul from the INSIDE out is taken care of, the outside inevitably changes.

All I can say is this; watch the story you play in your head----does is look like the one you actually WANT? Are you receiving yourself within the way that you'd hope others would on the outside....?

Watch your thoughts. Watch them, Chelsea Belle..... it doesn't matter if you decide to get married tomorrow, or to flee to India---these choices are yours-- no path is permanent, try them all.

Embrace the opposition within yourself and use it as a roadmap. Protect that precious brain and fill it with thoughts that ELEVATE your heart to the highest.

You don't have to explain yourself to anyone.

The only reason we withhold from expressing our AUTHENTIC selves, is because we think, IF we choose to express them, there’s a chance...we won’t be received with a warm heart, open arms and gentle understanding. Whether its from OURSELVES, or the people around us-- If we knew, with unwavering certainty, that people would be KIND, our ability to live in harmony with our all of our choices, would be much more uncomplicated....and fluid. Yes, I'm talking to you.

BE KIND TODAY.

Are your thoughts working WITH YOU or AGAINST YOU??

Then Something Major happened. AKA Winning. Almost.

2011-07-28T07:42:00.000-07:00

Here’s the situation.

...that almost works, just a period, no explanation- just---hey bitch, there’s a situation- that’s it. There is a situation.

The situation is this in a nutshell; I’ve been planning to move to New York City in October with my man candy since June--- mid-Feb of this year, I left my previous job and went back to the world of freelance. For those of you that are all, “Oh freelance! How dreamy! Ponies! Cozy sweatpants and endless creativity all! day! long! SPRITZERS WHILE I’M ON A CLIENT PHONE CALL AND THEY’LL NEVER EVEN KNOWWWWWWWW” yeah, for you guys? Lay off the crack pipe.

It’s more like: What up Morning, what do have for me today ::while you put on your Rocky face and camo gear:: then, feel tempted to do laundry since you’re sitting in your laundry all day, but don’t do the laundry because you have to ACTUALLY WORK, thus you stare at the laundry and start to feel like a hoarder by 2:30, then wonder where the hell your boundless creativity went, the nagging creativity that was begging for you to pay attention to it when you had your last job, where you didn't sit on top of thongs and crunchy sweat pants all day.

So then... you’re all--- FINE. I will lean into the discomfort of my dried up brain and I’ll WORK THROUGH IT. Then you eat some cheese. And watch a YouTube video of Marble Machines, then you cry about Amy Winehouse---but maybe you're not crying about Amy Winehouse, maybe you're crying about yourself? But whatever.

....Meanwhile, you've already applied to 25 jobs, THIS. MORNING. ALONE. Then, you follow up with 10 potential new clients. While also working on your current clients.....interspersed with the other ideas that have yet to make you actual money. Then you write an invoice, then hassle someone who hasn't paid you yet, then you take 4 phone calls that a lot of them, end up wasting your time....

....the whole time you're thinking....this is an investment. This is all worth it.

Then you pitch six thousand ideas and most of the time people are like, “meh?” , then you check Mint.com and you’re like HOLY BALLS!!! How long can I stretch (insert abysmal amount of coin here) and you’re like, "no, look..." (and you start crying inside, then outside when it’s about 5 and there’s been no progress), I need these ideas to work because it turns out that I have a credit card bill and insurance and rent and a phone bill and you know, normal people shit that needs dealing with---and that last client? Yeah, that only lasted so long, it was a contract, that’s over.....then you remember your mom saying, “Patience is your life lesson” so you sit on the porch and meditate for 6 minutes, then go back to MANICALLY PURSUING SHIT.

....Then you remember some thing, some successful person said to you and DING! generate word of mouth, that’s the KEY! So you start by mouthing off to so many people your mouth hurts, so that they’ll mouth off to their people about how awesome your mouthing off is and boom, tipping point, snowballing, “oh man, I’m so booked---hit me back in a year.” BOOM. (This is unicorn shit, people---this happens somewhere in a land with Chupacabras and fuckin’ unicorns. And a couple other bloggers who we all love--you know who you are, and yes, I’m jealous--but that’s another blog and I love you anyway.)

THEN! SOMETHING! ALMOST HITS! Something really major---the kind of something that Cuba Gooding Jr. was all naked and screaming at Tom Cruise about. And you’re like, finally I don’t have to consider becoming an Atheist! And that “Something” is drawn out for about a year---this really big deal, that you’re really stoked on, YOUR CALLING (angels sing, fairies dance, glitter and absinthe abound!) and you think, after the last 10 years of constant rejection, it has to end at some point? There was a reason you didn’t book Lady Gaga, or Rihanna, or Maroon 5, or why Glamour and Marie Claire and Cosmo and Elle and Self and every magazine on the planet never wanted any of your million stories, or why those twelve business ideas you had bombed like Clear Pepsi and why your book ideas suck balls …..it was all for this thing, you mini-celebrate inside and Google, “Yacht.” Wee! Take that The Man!

Then, Something Major doesn’t happen. And you want to die. Which is dramatic, but sort of true. Especially because Something Major has been a whorey little tease knockin’ at your door during dark hours, night after bleak night.

Then, you do your laundry. But only one load, because you want to feel sorry for yourself and drink Gin instead and see how many creative egg and pasta based dinners you can make until your next paycheck comes.

THE SITUATION IS THIS: I don't want to live like this forever. I'm ready and excited to get back to the city and have actually found some opportunities that I would be HAPPY to leave the world of freelancing behind for----excited, even. Free samples at the bakery, kind of excited. I just need to get hired. Or booked. Or....for someone to take a chance on me and the ideas that I know. deeeep, deeeep down are STELLAR.

The Something Major that I wanted so deep in my loins (yeah I said it) hasn't happened yet.....but, Something Major and I will meet eventually. Right?

WHAT'S YOUR "SOMETHING MAJOR???"

The Moment Before the SHOE Drops......

2011-07-17T20:36:00.000-07:00

…...it was mostly about the garden.

The work, the “labor of the day.” Sort of how little kids show off their rainbow colored restaurant menus, as to say “see...I did good right?” It was about approval and proof, that this right here is what I have devoted my body to DOING for the day....with eager approval, a nod, a smile, a “did you see what he did today---gosh it looks amazing.” Followed by a comfortable sigh that you can now relax, your work has been acknowledged, you are valid. The moment before was all about that.

...Actually....the moments before MOST things are all about that. That= the undeniable need to have the people around you smile and say, “you’re doing good Kid.” Permission to breathe. To put down the flogging fists and hug yourself instead. Yes, I said hug yourself, you snarkhole.

….the moment before was when the day was just, “okay.” The moment before things were, “oh....ya know, same ‘ol same ‘ol.” Exasperated. Uninspired. Routine. Arguably, imperfect.

You wish you would’ve cleared out your inbox, or come up with something “more interesting” to make for dinner.....that you would have run an extra twenty minutes, or remembered to call your best friend, that you would have IMPLEMENTED.MORE.EFFECTIVE. TIME. MANAGEMENT. (you failure, you get one pass, but tomorrow-you have to do it BETTER tomorrow, says the Internal Monologue)---it’s the daily, unwinding of that “what could I have done better today.....” that we’re usually caught up in the ‘moment before.’

We’re fixated on the cracks, the pieces that are chipping and we’re scrubbing out the imperfections--- we’re watching with a close eye, we’re planning ahead as a consolation for the “imperfect” today, false hope for a better “tomorrow....”

….then, something happens---the something that forces you, abruptly from the seat of your chair, the fight or flight, the feeling of emotional attack- because you aren’t sure how to react any other way, so you pace back and forth and your body responds by shaking, shaking away the “ouch” that is inevitably about to settle in. The moment before, it was all about the garden, the “meh” day, the “I didn’t do my best....” and now, the moment, says, “HEY. Life. it’s fragile. All that shit? That shit doesn’t matter.....why does it always take ::this:: to remind you?”

A couple weeks ago My Love lost a family member, suddenly, tragically----too soon, you know? The way it happens. Too soon. Unfairly. And the following weeks have been a series of deliberately AWARE, moments. Like unfolding the sheer, gossamery wings of a butterfly, suddenly keenly IN-TUNE with that fact that, THESE. BREAK. That person you love? They break too.

We all do it---it’s our way of “surviving,” most of the time. The sort of, “better, stronger, faster, more....” it’s the engine, that keeps chugging away, driving us into the abyss of the GLOSSY, PERFECT, “FUTURE.” We sleep too little, we worry too much, we over-plan, under-do, OVER-DO, we forget---that we’re breakable. That we have a number, with our name on it and we aren’t standing in a line, but in a big old pool....with no clear indication when it’ll be our time.

….there will always be “the moment before....” but how are you going to BE IN IT?

Will you be, PRESENT-- proud? Kind with yourself for the day that you’ve HAD, even if it wasn’t the day you’d envisioned? It’s the only one you’ve got, kiddo.

Will you finally take that extra step, the leap, the "someday," and the "later?" WILL YOU FINALLY DO THE THINGS YOU SAY SO DESPERATELY YOU WANT TO DO? Or will you sit, whining, at the back of the bus, letting someone else drive it---apathetically, unthankful with the "cards you've been dealt." Cause guess what? You've only got this one deck, so you may as well play it.

Will you be fixated on the extra 10 pounds? The extra hour you need to put in at work? If the “moments before” are a series of guilt-ridden, self-loathing, disappointment, lack-focused, future-focused, unaware, ungrateful---you aren’t just in ‘moments’ you’re in your MOMENT, the one you’ve been waiting for---the moments before a tragedy, a shift, a LOSS, you aren’t aware that these may be YOUR last moments too......

How you gonna live it baby? Moment. to. Moment. Makes the whole picture. With gratitude today my Dreamers.

Self-sabotage, loving yourself and NOT BEING SO DAMN CRAZY.

2011-06-30T14:47:00.000-07:00

I've done this about a hundred times--- I run my hands across the contents of my closet, touching the fabrics, feeling for comfort and weight, then gingerly, like a ballet dancer preparing her pointe shoes- I pick an outfit, the outfit that he will break up with me in.

Something easy-- something, you know, effortlessly wonderful. That skims the curves of my body just enough, in case I have to walk away. Something memorable, but not too over-the-top. Something....that says, in a whisper, "you'll regret this later." Which naturally means, "makes my ass look wonderful and brings out the bronze overtones in my skin."

I drive up to meet him and play through how it has to go; cards tightly held in my sweaty hands... no tears. Definitely no tears. A sort of calm reserve to the "way things will unfold..." a quiet surrender. A chin held high. I play it all out.

....then, he greets me at the door as loving and as ready for me and US as always and I snap back into the reality of the situation, which is; he isn't breaking up with me (you fucking idiot.) He isn't running out. He isn't harboring secrets in places I haven't found yet----those are stories in my HEAD. This unforgiving, overactive MIND that is strangling, slowly, my life force.

I do this, see?

I do this thing where--I always ask you too many questions, fishing for red flags that point to devastation. I'll extract every ounce of inflection, intent, structure of the sentence and I'll chew on it, rolling these helpless words around the sharp incisors of my rabidly hungry mind , until it's this sort of nondescript mush of what was once a simple, likely-forgettable, thought.

I'm teetering between Totally In Control and Out of my Fucking Mind and sometimes, I don't know how to stop it.

I'm realizing---sometimes life doesn't DO what you want it to, but whatever winds of change come crashing through your imaginary rose garden, I MUST refuse to be the catalyst, of annihilating something before it can be 'so good'... I cannot continue to sabotage my own evolution....and in turn, happiness.

When a traffic jam halts the flow of my day, or a check comes a week too late---when "the plan," ends up being an IDEA instead of a reality, which inevitably happens--I refuse to be the reason it all "fell apart," instead, I am a contently peaceful observer in the unexpected advances. ADVANCES= forward motion= growth.

When things are changing in unexpected ways I will think of them as subtle, UPGRADES--better than my original "plan." I refuse to perceive everything as working AGAINST me and rather, as working creatively for me and the betterment of my SOUL.

What is it that that you're hanging on to??? Do you really believe that you aren't wildly, succulently LOVABLE and LOVED---that you aren't EMPLOYABLE, INNOVATIVE, VISIONARY??? That you aren't deserving, ABUNDANT, taken-fucking-care.OF. Why don't you know that are all of those things?? Come on, child.

You ARE all of those things. You. Me. Collectively, us.

So stop that shit. STOP IT. STOP. IT. STOP. IT. You master Saboteur. The title isn't fitting on you.

You can't start trying to change yourself so that you can love yourself, or your life, or your person...you have to love yourself FIRST, in order for the change to happen, perhaps, change isn't the word-TRANSFORMATION......that's better.

You hear that, Chels? Pretty hard to hear when your head is lodged so far up fears stinky little ass, eh?

Do you ever SABOTAGE your "GOOD?" and WHY?

"CELEBRATION" DOESN'T EVEN BEGIN TO COVER IT......

2011-06-09T15:58:00.000-07:00

Last night, my dream mantra was "CELEBRATE."

While, I wasn't sure why I kept seeing the word everywhere, I'm never one to turn down a good party-- and the highest form of gratitude, enthusiasm and EUPHORIA is to say, "hip hip hooray!!!!" regardless of circumstance....because at the very least, I know I live in a place where.....

I've got one ticket, to a roller coaster ride where dips are there to remind me that there's butterflies inside my stomach- to keep me humble and awake- where Diana Ross glam queens belt high Cs and the likes of Babe Paley's and Edie Sedgwick's are bantering in the corner car to keep things interesting- where rolling hills of candy factories serve as a background and every dip is a varying degree of Rainbow.

Where it doesn't matter whether I'm thinking inside the box, or out because wherever I am is draped head-to-toe in swirling compositions, shining prisms and Christmas ornaments, that reflect the light perfectly.

Where shades of gray are left for the soles of my dancing shoes and the clasp on my handbags. Where we have dance parties to glam-rock, while eating blueberries naked, with the windows wide open, while we dig through the dusty boxes in our brain that remembers the Jem theme song and we draw hot pink half moons on our eyes, then tip our hat at Lady Gaga for making adult face painting cool again.

Where we make 6 batches of Lemon Bars because we FUCKING CAN and because whoever gets to touch the fleshy parts will love you anyway and they'll love you even more when they're in a sugar induced euphoria caused by YOU, you're their sugar Queen.

Where every conversation we enter into makes us feel newly polished, satiated and cosmically DIVINE.

Where once and for all seeking approval of others isn't only a distant memory, but it's a sin upon the sacred CELESTIAL spirit that is encased within that transient exterior, that you have so finely perfected for the time and we can say, "AHHHH...." because we FINALLY understand that we are and always were, SUBLIMELY COMPLETE.

Where we buy balloons instead of lilies, or actually, where we buy both- where champagne is meant to be consumed, where the word "CELEBRATE" is instructed, just because.

Where reservations are unnecessary, because no matter where it is, they'll be delighted that you showed up. Where we always have a pen, a piece of paper and stoplight long enough to capture fleeting inspiration, or at the very least a person to say, "that should go in a blog."

Where Earth Angels appear in the form of snow days, life-elevating propositions, unexpected packages with Pixie Sticks on top, wild flowers and Chinese Fire Drills-- last one in the car gets to buy all of us a dozen sprinkled doughnuts.

Where everyone is granted a ridiculous nickname that can never be written, because it can't be pronounced and is said only by the most adoring of admirers. WHERE WE ARE REMINDED on a daily- that we are worthy, worth admiring and we are cherished as someones "absolute favorite creature."

Where I am a Kid and Life is a Candy Store.

Where you "let it go" for the sake of letting it grow, instead--it's okay for the ego to get demoted to the backseat for tonight. Where somewhere, someone is thinking of something even more fantastically mythical than a Unicorn.

Where YOU ROCK THE MOTHERFUCKING PATTON LEATHER PLATFORMS OFF THE CASBAH.

Where Optimism, Random Acts of Kindness and Bravery are not virtues, they are inherent to the law of existing. Where you will strive for nothing else than to find your most AWESOME rendition of Self and you will take that Self salsa dancing, then tuck it in bed after a tipsy night of drunken-self love. Where you will REFUSE to join the Square Bears when you're actually a melange of zoo animals, all shapes and sizes.

Where you will bring SOMETHING to the table-- whatever bizarre obsession, quirk or fascination that may be and you will OFFER IT UP, confidently as you were made to....

...where I give myself authority to expect the splendorous absurdity of asking for such things from myself and from all of you and I bask in it.

IT'S GOING TO BE A STELLAR WEEKEND, DON'T YOU THINK???

WHAT ARE YOU CELEBRATING?

BEING A HARD ASS IN A HAMMOCK JUST DOESN'T ADD UP.

2011-06-02T00:08:00.000-07:00

I am writing this blog from a hammock. Yes. A hammock.

As if there isn't enough of a reason to find writing from a hammock suitable, I will say that, it's also slightly dangerous for both my body and my computer...and I kind of like living on the edge...which brings me to another point entirely;

...while I'm swinging back and forth here, unsteady and a little unsure of what's going to happen next in my "story"- the weather is that perfect kind of balmy that the onset of summer teases us with, there's just enough of a breeze to cue the background orchestra of tall neighborhood trees, doing their thing, rustling in sync. Fresh cut grass, the smell of chives, English lavender and lilacs mingle in the ether and My Love picks bundles of thick purple asparagus and Swiss Chard to cook up, "look baby! We're going to eat this!" The childlike-gleam in his eye that's still amazed we can grow our own food and eat it.

My point is, I see it all. I smell it. I NOTICE. What's happening around me, right at this second that is perfect.

It would be really easy for me to get discouraged right now. To bellyache, to over plan in an attempt to find some comfort in the unseen twists and turns and ya know what? Usually, I am so Goddamn wrapped up in the "next," and the hustle, and the general lack of faith in my future that I've gotten used to surviving in this general state of, "worried."

I spend an unfortunate amount of time being absolutely riddled with this unshakable worry that I. just. won't. figure. it out. and you know what? It's fucking exhausting.

What's happening next? Who do I need to call that I haven't? Who should I be emailing? What best-seller have I yet to write? What way have I not yet considered that is going to be the key to abundant wealth and validation!? What pitch, what idea, what person have I not met, not considered, not CONJURED UP- WHAT AM I MISSING?!?!

Ah, yes- what you're missing? You aren't missing anything, but you're missing everything right now.

When you're busy talking about how "lost," how "uninspired," you aren't listening if guidance were to appear- to seeds of inspiration. When you're looking for the next destination, whether you're Googling it, or frantically scrolling through your iPhone for "Best Margarita spots within five miles" you've driven past three perfectly suitable patios, you've missed approximately 15 minutes of that story he was telling you, you've decided that the majority of your options "aren't good enough," and you've generally lost the point entirely. I know this because, I am this and frankly, sometimes I'm a pretty fucking miserable, asshole. I mean, I can be heinously difficult and discontent and it's not fun to be around for any party involved, myself included.

There's a difference between living on the edge and being the edge, especially if the edges are getting a little too sharp.

Today is about this hammock. And this weather, THE ABILITY TO BE HERE. OUTSIDE. BREATHING, eating a Costco size bag of Craisins, surprise kisses from the man I adore on my forehead in between planting new patches of raspberries, peach trees and potatoes. I see it. I smell. I hear. I'm here. Softening.

The phrases; it's just hard right now, things are difficult, I'm feeling stuck, I'm a little lost- are all banned from my vocabulary- I say them too often, thus I enforce them as fact when they really aren't they're bellyaching, they're discouraged, they're irritating- they're done.

I can be fully present, fully ambitious and fully inspired- I can exercise gratitude for the things that I have and the things I do not have, (thank you for not making me a Pussycat Doll even though this was once an actual, serious, and close goal- hindsight is 20/20.) There's a difference between persevering or being driven and being hard, which is simply, sometimes being, immovable.

I hope whatever you're going through, wherever your brain is today (thinking about tomorrow,) that you can find softness, NOTICE. see.

WHAT ARE YOU MISSING THAT'S RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU????

FRIDAY is FOR: Vegas, Beer, LINKY LOVE and hot dogs. HOT DOG!

2011-05-27T00:10:00.000-07:00

IT'S FRIDAY! And I'm going to do something new and different today........because I believe in evolving, or at least flipping switches, shape shifting, and pattern busting.

Rather, than wrangle you all into my emotional revelations, which is better left for a Monday... we're going to keep it simple, because Friday is for beer and Friday is for letting your hair down and kicking off your heels, for relaxed thinking- for picture books and ordering in.....ya know, easy.

I returned from Bloggers in Sin City on Sunday night and the best way for me to sum up the weekend isn't vagina's, or inflated tits, or hangovers....no, it's actually much more, er, sweet than that..... Nicole, Doniree, Grace , Jenny and Rachael, aren't just my "blogger friends,"....

they're my bridesmaids, my 4am call phone call, my inappropriate text message, they're there whether I'm "On" or "Off," they're the ones who have hopped on planes to be there for me, to kiss my head and eat pizza in bed (sans shame) with me- they're the first ones I know will be there even if they're thousands of miles away. These are friendships that have developed over years, new blog designs, new boyfriends, CHANGE and through all of that- they've become a part of my core. And they all have great tits, there ya go (must. not.leave.Vegas related post without being at least slightly raunchy) Vegas, yee-haw.

The amazing thing about Bloggers in Sin City is that, it wasn't just those girls that made it amazing- it's the fact that I met people who I know will become a part of that bond....and who are building bonds of their own with other bloggers on that same level as well.

From online to offline, we're creating friendships that defy all the distance, the 2D, and the "differences." We're CONNECTING, hilariously, boldly, ::TIPISLY?:: and joyously.

Whenever I'm around a large, fabulous group of bloggers I'm reminded how lucky I am to be a part of this community of people who are putting it all out there; to be seen, to be acknowledged, to be laughed with, to make people smile, to make people say, "oh no she didn't just say that....," to put their BALLS OUT!

I love that, about all of you who were there and all of you who read, who write, who share and who show up bravely to owning all the parts of theirs lives they're proud to be, have and desire-good and bad.

I LOVED MEETING YOU ALL- I LOVED OBSERVING, TAKING IN, MUSING ON ALL THINGS BLOGGERS FOR THREE FULL DAYS. Thank you dolls.

Without FURTHER adieu, Happy Friday- here's some further reading for your weekend. Eat hot dogs and be merry:::

I opened an Etsy Shop- she's called The Sponge and The Storyteller; vintage, customized goodies and all that jazz.

In two weeks, I will be beach side in MIAMI with my family at The Besty Hotel. Any Miami recs, food/drink?

What I Want on my Wedding Day: Happy WEDDING to Habbala, who I was lucky enough to drink margaritas with before the very lucky baby that is now in her belly arrived. You'll be an amazing wife and mother.

An Announcement: Congrats to Grace on her new job at Kapost!

The Hashtag Dance, that I choreographed (after a few margaritas, naturally) should be a blogger flashmob- right? Filmed by the lovely Apocalypstick.

I Hate Thinking That My Boyfriend has had Sex with Anyone but Me: I'm obsessed with

Thought Catalog, after my breakup-reuniting, this one particularly hits home.

Peanut Butter Bacon Cookies- How Sweet It Is is daily inspiration for what I would

cook....if I wasn't too lazy....I am making these this weekend.

I've had an obsession with street art for a longtime, in fact, I used to tag- my name was Siren, TRUE STORY- this blog Street Art Utopia is the greatest.

Life, As of Now- I adore Meg and I hope that when I'm back in the city we can be friends, her posts always hit the nail on the head.

Alexandra Franzen, of Unicorns for Socialism is like a sip of a freshly poured spritzer, sparkling, bold, intoxicating-this post spoke directly to me- Have you ever called yourself the "A" word?

I recently had a "No Strings Attached" viewing party, with my girlfriends- the movie was surprisingly adorable, Can Natalie Portman do anything wrong? and we made Sprinkles cupcakes with their new mix- if you're looking for a good Girls Night In, I suggest this- (also, My Love found the movie pretty charming too, ahem, dudes.)

From Oprah's last episode, I'll leave you with these gems:

"What are the whispers in your life right now? And will you hear it? Your life is speaking to you right now, what is it saying?"

"There's a difference between thinking you deserve to be happy and knowing that you are worthy of being happy. Your being alive makes worthiness your birthright. You alone are enough."

“Everybody has a calling, and your real job in life is to find it.”

"I wait and listen to the guidance that is bigger than my meager mind."

"I would tell you that every single person you will ever meet shares that common desire. They want to know: ‘Do you see me? Do you hear me? Does what I say mean anything to you?’"

WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SHARE THIS WEEKEND?

SET THE WORLD ON FIRE. IT'S A MONDAY, let's shake it up.

2011-05-16T10:51:00.000-07:00

I haven't been sleeping well.....

However, despite all of these very odd dreams that are mostly riddled with fears, I woke up with this scribbled next to my bed:

"THE MOST IMPORTANT THING WE CAN DO IS SET THE WORLD ON FIRE. WHEN YOU SET ONE THING, ONE PERSON ON FIRE....IT SPREADS. EFFORTLESSLY."

Now, I'm not an arsonist, but I wrote this, because I know thats the powerful that we do when we share, when we write, when we are willing to share GROWTH.

This last week, instead of setting my life on fire, I've allowed my fears to suppress the little flame to a perfectly contained furnace....I don't "do" perfectly contained anything.

My Love went on tour again and after betrayal in the past, the ability to bid him farewell with a long kiss on the lips and a cooler full of snacks for the road wasn't my go-to emotion, FUCK THAT, rather, I wanted to curl inside myself so that I would be portable too- pack me?

And while I am incredibly bendy, fragmenting the pieces of me to fit inside him isn't an option. While Fear was enjoying this chewy piece of discomfort, gnawing the shit out of it and licking the bones raw- my higher voice gave me the only TRUE solution; TRUST HIM. Lower self responds: "ew, sticky, ouchy, I don't like it! my insides want to kick someone! I can't, just give me another What If, to swirl into a nice devastation cocktail, I'm thirsty for more masochism." Clinging. Chained inside my own thoughts, my own illusions.

Our relationship is healthier and happier than it ever could have been had we not gone through the difficult period we did- we are communicating TO each other and not AT each other, he's doing everything he can to make me feel safe and loved and wanted, yet- I can't seem to let go of the fear that I'll have to endure a traumatic blow from his recklessness, despite his unfaltering patience, growth, and devotion to me.

Interesting huh? When you can't let something go, it does the opposite of what you actually want. He shows his dedication to the progress of our relationship and carries the weight of all my dreams, fears, wounds without complaining about how heavy a load that truly is. AH, we're actually. GROWING- truly....scooping out the weeds, so there's room for more, for better, for fucking fantastic.

Right before things are about to change, even in the most positive way, there's a natural instinct to cling to very last layer, to savor its presence, even when you want to be rid of it; fears included.

The thing about clinging is that we FORGET that it's in the letting go that actually allows us to break patterns and move beyond our fears. Easier said than done, when you've been clinging with Super Glue, eh?

Whatever emotion is taking away your life force, we have to remember there is ALWAYS an opposite standing beside it.....

When you're feeling powerless, choose to feel empowered- empowered in spite of whatever it is that is seemingly stripping you of your strength. There is no person, no scenario, no dollar amount, or corporation that can take away your power- its in our minds that we allow our innate powerful nature to be silenced.

FEEL FIRE, FREEDOM AND SUNSHINE AND TRUST AND ALL OF THOSE THINGS, WHEN YOU FEEL LIKE THEY'RE IMPOSSIBLE.

Embrace what honors you and say "fuck off" to anything that doesn't (out loud if necessary.)

On my yoga mat the other day, my teacher said, "Now when you're ready (she pauses)....or, let me correct myself, we're always 'ready' we just have to be patient."

I am ready to trust, I just have to patient with my letting go process- I'm ready to find the abundance I'm working so hard for, I just have to be patient- We're always READY, for growth,, for change, for newness, FOR HAPPINESS TO HAPPEN TO US, to go outside our comfort lines....to stop. clinging. we just have to be patient, when we finally acknowledge that, change happens, patience dissolves and action occurs.......

WHAT ARE YOU "READY" FOR THAT YOU CAN'T SEEM TO LET GO OF????

Where I put up an unnecessary "Facelift" picture- because, I couldn't find a good picture for, "What should I do?"

2011-05-02T18:14:00.000-07:00

Oh goodness have I been thinking about LIFE......take a seat.

The other day Chelsea Talks Smack, the entire blog was deleted for approximately, 2 hours.

The entire thing.

Before I delve into how dramatic that ACTUALLY was for me, I should probably mention a couple things; A. I don't back anything up, likely because I run on a combination of faith meets head in the sand and B. I'm entirely inept when it comes to computers. I know, I know, I'm "online," but not in the way that most bloggers i.e. technically savvy people are. I write the blog, I click publish. I meet my muse, we do our dance, we share.

I don't pay attention to things that happen in "tech" (read: I don't particularly care), I don't "update my look at feel," or organize my social outlets- I don't network, I mean I. don't. network. I don't make buttons, or return emails promptly- I generally have a hard time treating my art like my business, because it's like trying keep your eyes open during an orgasm to make sure you don't miss anything- when really all you want to do it have the orgasm, because it's so lovely. The problem is creativity is my life, so my life has to be my business.

While, I've been a basically a fulltime web/blogger/internet chick for the last six years, I'm a little burnt out on the whole thing, EXCEPT for my blog- which really should have been the focus from the beginning; my voice, my brand, my creativity.

Which means, I should stop flipping off the internet with one hand while love petting it with the other.

All that to say; when my blog was suddenly erased entirely from my life, I realized- I better start taking this shit a little bit more seriously. Hey yo.

My blog in the darkest of times, or the most LOST I've been, has been the one. constant. steady. thing. When My Love and I broke up, it was the only reason I didn't retreat into woodsy area twenty miles off a dusty road to be eaten by wildebeests and rabid Praying Manti' (Mantises?) whatever (ooo good one, dramatic Chels, really nice)- my blog has seen me from Los Angeles, to New York City, from the Road to the Roots and everywhere in between, it's like a thumb, neglected, but necessary. As she then thinks of all the things one could do with only four fingers....::walks around, picking things up::

I'm starting to wonder if perhaps there needs to be a rebirth of Chelsea Talks Smack....

....after almost losing her completely, I recognize how important she is to me, but that she needs a fresh coat of paint. The thing about paint is that there's so many different things you can do with it- I want to remain genuine to the VOICE of CTS, but maybe there needs to be some added detailing;

There are days when I consider scraping the whole thing all together, becoming a Hare Krisha or a children's book author and giving up the web entirely..... (until eventually I'd end up writing a blog about giving up blogging) hm.

More love talk, more inspirational juju? Pictures, videos? More grab-life-by-the-balls-and-twist-it? Less of that? These are the questions that I'm throwing around in my head.

I read once that Anna Wintour's greatest quality she said is decisiveness. Looks like if I want to be taken seriously, I need to make some more serious decisions.

WHAT "serious" DECISIONS DO YOU HAVE TO MAKE?

The one where I talk about having a weird sort of affair with "The Divine." OR SOMETHING.

2011-04-27T19:33:00.000-07:00

Telling stories is sacred to me. Completely, utterly, down on my knees at the alter, while incense nestles its way into my nostrils sort of sacred.

With sacred things there's always an amount of fickleness, DETAILS and ceremony involved-it's like each story is spun into something beautiful, but only if each individual thread is woven, perfectly.

My threads are strewn through so many different outlets right now. At the moment I'm writing a TV show, writing a book, starting a new business (MORE ON THAT LATER), booking music shows and writing bits of scenes everyday and then when I come to sit at my blog, I've used up all the threads. I'm delegating where all of my stories belong, "Ah, that story has to go into the book...." then a lightning of inspiration will come up and My Love will say, "Write the down! That has to go in your show," or, "OMG- stop what you're saying, write it down before it gone...." clinging to the words....donnn't gooooo.....

I live for these moments. LIVE. When The Divine opens a door and welcomes itself into your brain without permission. Why hello, yes you may have a seat- you ask if The Divine would like some tea, or a glass of whiskey (depending on how The Divine is feeling, of course) and then you sit, in reverence and awe- give it to me baby, give it to me, I am here and I am basking. Sometimes The Divine stays for whiskey and other times it's all, "Hey can I use your bathroom? Sweet, then I gotta run." And you're left sitting there alone with your whiskey, or your crumpets or whatever else, just a faint outline of this mystical beings apparition is left. Why, that was.....glorious?.....or....what the fuck was THAT?

Well thank you for giving me the most beautiful, sacred, inspiration-fucking and running, ever. Fantastic, I wasn't finished, punk.

That's just how inspiration works. Indulge it when it knocks at your door, but don't spend all day staring at a tray of stale crumpets waiting for it, sometimes it's a house guest that uses your shampoo, eats all of your dried cherries, cleans our your liquor cabinet and then leaves a Thank You note signed, "Until next time...." Other times, it uses your restroom, gives you a swift kiss on the cheek and leaves you hastily. Welcome its visits, but don't welcome them with expectation, or you'll be disappointed.

This has been the LITERAL THEME OF MY LAST WEEK. Notice how I did that, with the caps? Yeah, that's called Anger Typing. See, I'm trying to be all "unattached" to it, but the what happens when you get an inspiration "high" and the high isn't received, you feel a bit like someone spit cotton candy right in your face. Why cotton candy? I don't know, I wouldn't reject cotton candy. Or apples if you prefer a healthier bent on the analogy.

The point is, my projects are all hanging in various parts of the air..... I'm IN FULL FORCE DREAM WARRIOR MODE. Don't risk takers get rewarded? Right now, I'm thinking no? the words, "DON'T FUCK WITH THE SYSTEM" are stewing in my head, knees close to buckling....

Truthfully, I could use a little nudge. Like, even one tiny bone.

BUT HERE'S THE THING- I'm truly not complaining; I'm surrendering, I'm invoking, beseeching (especially beseeching, in an English accent), affirming, worshiping this beautiful, odd bravery that one must have in order to GROW. Reminding myself everyday, in each challenge, I am setting fire to fields infested with burs and that I am blazing a new trail, where only my foot steps can show me the way there and then lead me home again, when I've covered all the land and am ready for a new adventure.

I am gambling with the most TENUOUS emotion; TRUST and I'm forced to believe in myself, again and again and again- instead of timidly believing in myself without ever experiencing the push of opposition.

And then, I'm finding lightness- a little silliness that's squeezed itself under the Heavy, for instance;

I spent 6 hours last night after a long day painting the characters in a carved wall hanging of The Last Supper neon chartreuse- I know how that sounds, ridiculous?

A. because I'm not Catholic, or particularly "religious" or particularly into Jesus-

B. I was painting a wall hanging of The Last Supper chartreuse. For what purpose exactly? That's the thing. There really wasn't one- other than, I'm on a crafting quest to make old things beautiful, make serious thing playful, and turn trash into treasures and because I have this idea that that "supper" was a lot more colorful than we're lead to believe, so, I painted it.

My Love sat across from me painting a vintage chest, transforming it from evergreen to bubblegum pink, with black accents- one of my pickings from an impulse thrifting spree- paint fumes mixed with garlic cous cous and turkey sausage mixed in the air and The Weepies played in the background, "I made due with gray, but I didn't stay. I was made for sunny days, and I was made for you."

....the sound of living happened outside, and I thought to myself, "Ah, this isn't so bad." I'll just make sure to have whiskey next time The Divine comes to my door, maybe it'll stay longer.

HOW DO YOU BRING IN "LIGHTNESS" WHEN YOU'RE IN THE "HEAVY?"

I'm either going to have a Titanic "I'M THE KING OF THE WORLD" moment- Or, I'm going to jump. It's a fine line.

2011-04-13T20:43:00.000-07:00

I generally like to get where I'm going.

....I speed. I walk fast, (even in heels.) If I know that there's an ending point, a destination, I want to bulldoze through roadblocks, because I know on the other side is "my vision," so get. out. of my way. (fucker.) My nickname as a kid was, "The hammer..." because I just. wouldn't. stop hammering away until I'd driven the nail all the way in. I know, it isn't exactly a desirable quality and for those around me, the "journey" can be hellacious if I'm manning the ship- that iceberg? Oh yeah, BRING ITTTTT (as she tribal screams, a low guttural growl and grits her teeth.) I press the gas into overdrive, I operate in the red. On all levels.

Then, I look around and think, "but...what the fuck did I actually get DONE today? What was all this 'efforting' FOR?" Half-finished projects scattered around the room, fingers numb from days worth of super glue coated so thick, I've created a new layer of skin- the ideas are all, "almost there," everything organized in fragmented efforts- hopefulness divided, the perfect cocktail of "going nowhere," half-All-In, Half-well-I-fucking-suck-ass-this-was-a-bad-idea.

The one beacon of light in my day is that- My Love and I have moved back in together- and it's perfect. You can't really go from, "being together for a few years, living together, breaking up, dating indefinitely....?" This isn't our first rodeo, after what we've gone through, it's ALL OR NOTHING. All is better.

The thing is, we're not simply living alongside one another, we are companions in ALL THINGS and as true creatives do, we both have about 6-million-projects in the fire, but nothing has cooked through. So, I keep opening the oven, looking for that golden color that tells me, "its done!" While he's home from the road, in between tours, he's helping me get a lot of MY projects off the ground, or at least coating my psyche with a nice sheen of "you're a bad ass babe, you can do it." I would also be lying if I said I haven't been found curled in a ball crying about my fear that none of those projects, will "work."

Any time you challenge a pattern, you're going to be left feeling a little doubtful- you're jumping the tracks, you little rebel.

I sat on our love seat, the perfect amount of space that forces us to be close when I would prefer to sprawl out on the floor dramatically- here I was sipping Pellegrino on the verge of a breakdown- and something, "clicked." Not in the bright-light bulb kind of way, but it more of a Christopher Columbus realizing the Earth wasn't flat sort of way-this little piece of "knowingness" will change the way you think forever. Curled up against the one I love, in our 1920's abode, above an art gallery, next to record stores, vintage shops, wine bars, music venues and foodie delights, all things I've envisioned having at my doorstep-I looked at the shreds of paper on the floor, my half-crossed off to-do list, the crackling sound of all that is cooking in the oven.... my internal monologue took her little index finger, and flicked me right between the eyes- "PAY ATTENTION Chels....." and she said:

Look baby, I know sometimes, everything feels IMPOSSIBLE. But you are trying....and trying....and trying.

...and it doesn't matter if no one in the entire world can see it, you are showing up, for you, for BIGGER, for GREAT. Your feelings of inadequacy are simply that, feelings....not facts. Don't let them become more than an emotion, that is simply fleeting in its presence.

You aren't comfortable, because you are refusing to settle for mediocrity.

All of those little investments are part of the bigger, more meaningful investment which, if you didn't bite the bullet and swallow the cost, would be at the expense of your happiness.

Don't just have thoughts, have experiences and know that not all of these "experiences" may be grand, or fanciful, fulfilling or "meaningful"- but they are all a part of the bigger whole.

When you want to run away and sulk in your defeat, drag yourself closer; to the fear, the failure, to the person, to the moment....wade through the mud. If you're going to do it "eventually," try doing it now instead. TRY- I don't mean, "succeed right this second," there is no finish line, my friend.

If you're knee-deep in "it," remember what it was like when you could see your feet....then, drop it, so you don't miss that beautiful cloud that was in the sky, shaped just like a castle, or a pie and that MOMENT in the sky is all a little lie, because here on the ground in that mud that rounds your ankles, buried in the beds of your toe nails- that mud, will dry, and will be clay and that "DEEP" that you're in, will make you stronger within.

You don't have to a part of the 'Sons of' Club or the Better Thans, the world doesn't hold you in kid gloves but in their bare calloused hands- these hands, will leave imprints and will repair and are unapologetic for being naked, bare. You are held, tightly.

...And then you'll sit there and you'll say, "Don't worry, it'll all be okay-la, la, la, self medicate with sugary sweet words rather than defeat" and you'll say it again and again and inside your voice says, "well, that's sort of a lie, you Asshole," but what you've said is actually what will be- so live in the "Now" and the present and remember that there's a reason that you said it...and all the cheese aside, there only two choices- always- between the dark and the light...

and right when your optimism is about to get washed away......

...you may hear a little voice say, "Give me a name, define me, maybe even lie to me- I want a container and a box, somewhere to belong....what are you, anyway?" and you'll start feeling like maybe you've forgotten and maybe you ARE really nothing; but there is something there my Dear, there is something underneath that supple, swollen skin and she is begging to be released, to be seen and to win.

Boom.

And when I could have stayed awake, steeping in my restlessness, angry that my mind can't materialize as quickly all that it can visualize- I looked around and the perfectness, of this town, of this man...of my home and my brain- the way that I think..... the journey....the journey......it's just another day. Inch by inch. When you're on the verge of something great, there's always the fear it'll be taken away- so stand on the precipice, at the bow of the ship, on the spot marked with an X for you to take your place in the dark, so that the show can start.

WHAT KEEPS YOUR DISCOURAGEMENT AT BAY???

So, there are some holes in the story: I.E. Dropping a Bomb.

2011-03-28T00:00:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, there are some holes in my stories.

....by sometimes, I mean often-because, as much as I'd like to share every single thing all the time, there's a bit of my life that because of circumstance, respect, other people, I keep private. Woa. I share almost all of my emotions, but I don't always share the pieces that triggered the emotion; the person, the job, the place or opportunity- here's the problem with leaving holes; there's a lot of room for assumption.

After my breakup, the one I so generously offered up every detail of as to aid in my grieving process, I dated a boy, one who I've written about very briefly and due to his online persona, kept the majority of our "relationship," private.

Here's what I didn't say;

I was horribly harsh, inaccessible, capricious, and wildly NOT ready for any of that, or him, because of that....I didn't just date him, but I dated.....a couple other guys too. Hashtag me unfair, but that's the way the story goes. Admittedly, I did a lot wrong during those 7 months. I treated people poorly and with semi-reluctant force, I tried to make it all something it couldn't be.

Here's what I didn't say; I left out the bits about some of those boys making me HAPPY....I was so comfortable sharing sadness and I suppose, protecting my ex in a way....leaving the porch light on, so he would never think I moved on, because truthfully- I hadn't, that I skipped the times there were rainbows peeking through.

When I did share rainbows, I didn't say, only 7% of me was "there," when we strolled down Haight-Ashbury, holding hands and gliding in and out of pastry shops, where he encouraged me to eat one of everything and over encouraging open ears- the few moments, I nestled my head up against someone new showing hardly an ounce of what could be "affection," 8% of me showed up.... that time when he told me the story about his Dad making months worth of stew, "the stew," and stocking the fridge for every. meal. he laughed so hard we nearly spit up our Malbec and extinguished the candles on the table...yeah, that time.... 12% of me showed up..... parts of me were happy, but the other 93% was always with My Love.

Here's what I can't say about my life; there's a few major story lines happening right now that are too major to tell yet- too big, too contingent, too sacred, too kick your face exciting......that only my closest circle gets updates.

Which, truthfully, at times makes it hard for me to SHOW UP here, in full Chelsea Talks Smack regalia all brazen and unnecessary, wearing canary yellow and tangerine at the same time, bearing updates and adventures.

Here's what I didn't say, and the hole in this story is not only big, but with reason was kept mum, longer that I'm comfortable with....Remember my Valentines Day Revolution?? Right, the day when after 7 months of heartache, I pulled it together, bought myself flowers and lingerie, drank champagne, went to dinner and a spa.......

.... well after I did all of that, as I tipped down a street in Denver draped in the moonlight with the intention of heading home to eat chocolates in bed while watching something heinously unromantic, for the sake of my inner rebel....I heard him say my name, "Chels......"

My Love. My Great Love Story. The one who fucking wrecked my heart. (too put it bluntly.) The one who was The One- stood there, wearing a silly sailor hat and a blazer, at that moment, on Valentines Day, on the same corner, in the same place, at the exact same time, all by himself...just like me. It kind of just clicked, the silent inner nod. We linked arms and walked back to his apartment...the last six weeks have been, incredible and incredibly intentional. Turns out Cupid does his job, tricky rascal.

Here's what I didn't say; while our breakup was the most painful thing I've experienced, hurtful, shocking, and deep- I also recognize that it was what needed to happen then. Annoying huh? That old, "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" bit. Listen, we both had our "things," that we needed to figure out. I didn't say that, there were times when we still saw each other, and "saw each other," there were times when I knew he was still in DEEP, DEEP confusion and I knew he still wasn't ready for me, I didn't say those times were punctuated by months without a word from him- I didn't say that I also knew he still loved me, acknowledging that without the outcome I wanted would've been unbearable to carry.

I didn't say that I always knew it would be him. I didn't say that, a week before Valentines Day he called and asked if we could have coffee, but I stubbornly denied. I didn't say that I saw him trying to make it all "right" again- with words and actions to follow. I didn't say that when we're together, our hearts shine a little brighter. I didn't say that it's so much better now than it ever could have been, that I trust him and I trust US. I didn't say that I feel home again, in a healthy, strong way.

I didn't say it, because I've already persecuted him, painted him through my emotions. I told the story of a Jekyll and Hyde- how do you go back and convince the jury that he's no longer a villain? ..or that he's learned the price of his crime....

Here's what I haven't said; I'm happier than I have been in a long, long time- I'm the kind of happy only he can intensify. My Love has light in his eyes again. We're building a monument on sacred burial grounds that we once were, and with every piece we're deliberate about the foundation we're laying. Carefully chosen beams, doorknobs and walkways....there's a depth, a level of understanding and an optimism that is palpable....and really, for now, that's enough evidence for me to present right now. I'm going to bask in this newness, with all the old goodness reminding me that this is exactly the perfect choice.

Which is better to say TOO MUCH, or TOO LITTLE?

THIS IS SHOW TIME: My Manifesto, on NOT being vanilla, on never being the last to leave and knowing when to take center stage.

2011-03-10T07:00:00.000-08:00

There's something that needs to happen right now. I mean, literally right this second.

The other day I was chatting with my friend and I said, "Do you ever feel like you're waiting for your life to START?"

As in; when my life starts I will [fill in the blank], when I finally start [fill in the blank] I'll be better at [fill in the blank], someday I'll [fill in the blank], once [fill in the blank] happens- here's the problem with this sort of thinking- THERE IS NO SOMEDAY, there is no "fill in the blank," there is no "when-this, then-this" scenario.

There isn't a dress rehearsal, a "trial-run," a "30-day test," this is literally all we get- I don't get to re-do my twenties, I don't get to re-do yesterday, I don't get to try that crazy headstand in yoga "someday," I get to fall on my face TODAY. There is no, "I'll tell him later....", there is no, "I'll love her later...when I'm more [fill in the blank]" Love her, today- while you have each other....stop letting imaginary fears suck away your potential for joy; fear will feed off of your insecurities and make a nice cozy, infested home inside of you....imagine what you could fill that space with if you simply renovated?

FILL IN THE BLANK NOW. If it's literally impossible for you to; physically, financially, even emotionally, I get that- those are legitimate reasons; the point is, put into action, removing the things that interfere with your progression- don't accept road blocks as a "way of life", a "way of being," if they're withholding you from your WANTS, from your growth and from you happiness, rent a bulldozer, hire a therapist, yoga your face off until you're that crazy bitch who cries in Child's Pose in the corner. Talk through it, cook through it, work an extra hour, send another resume, ask the question you're afraid of asking, put your balls out there for god sakes.

Admit the truth, challenge your beliefs, challenge their beliefs, ask for MORE, refuse, push back, feel like a fool, do that "thing," start-off on another foot, dust yourself off, question authority, give yourself an inner-monologue.

Follow impulse, MOVE THROUGH DISCOMFORT, look your "right now" directly in the face and welcome it- "right now," may be the courier to your next destination, if you'd simply accept the ticket and take a seat.

I don't get to, "once I'm finally confident enough, I'll......" NO, No, I get to test out "confident enough" TODAY- there is no magical Confidence Fairy that's going to come around and fix all my imperfect bits, personality flaws, jiggly parts, or fill-in awkward silences and whisper in my ear how awesome I am when I start doubting it- she doesn't show up like Glenda in a bubble, with pixie dust and three-wishes, YOU ARE YOUR OWN CONFIDENCE FAIRY, there is no Stage Manager giving you cues and letting you suck at least once so that you can be better "next time," no, no...... THIS is SHOW TIME. Suck less, today.

Sure, I can sit here and say, "Live in the moment," but by saying that it could sound like, "learn how to love your really shitty job that you don't love at all, or wait for Publisher's Clearing House to knock on your door, cringe and yourself in the mirror one more time and just put on a parka, or keep accepting the fact that he's being a douche-hole and voila!" Living in the moment can be misconstrued as laziness, or apathy- if you're truly living in the moment there's action involved. There's active listening, active asking, active acknowledging, active acceptance, active healing and active challenging, mostly of yourself, when a situation or person seems challenging you're smack in the middle of some gooey, delicious, rich growth and ripening. That sentence sounds like the beginning of a food-porn novel, and now I want some bacon dipped in chocolate, but whatever.

THIS IS SHOW TIME.

Today there are challenges, for me, for you....for US, consider these, right now;

set a standard- something you refuse to accept less than. STOP. BEING. DESPERATE- desperate to succeed, desperate to love, desperate to be loved- desperation has the opposite affect, it splinters the intention into a million directions and never gives you the desired outcome. Ask more questions; be curious about someone, your job, the future- find genuine interest in what/who is in front of you- give them/it the stage. Don't be surly, you are not sour milk- rancid shouldn't be associated with anyone as a personality trait.

Wear your odd-shaped, over-sized, bleeding heart on your sleeve- you know why we don't do that? Because we're afraid to. Because we think "reserved" and "controlled" are appealing to the general "palette" you know what else is preferred by the "general palette?" VANILLA. And, we're afraid people will gag on chocolate-covered-Bing-cherries, with a side of cookie dough. Or, that they'll throw it out.

BE SOMEONES PREFERRED FLAVOR. You don't have to be "everyone's" vanilla.

Stop sneering at people; pretty girls, people that are different than you, people that you're jealous of, jealousy is easy to sniff out. Jealousy just makes you look insecure. Honor girl-code; don't make excuses for sleeping with/texting/emailing, and looking with "intent" in the general fucking direction of someone else's man- there's enough to go around, if he were meant to be with YOU, he would be, so have some respect for yourself and set a standard to not be "that girl," it ain't cute. MAN-UP. Accept responsibility and don't let it overwhelm or crush you under the pressure- redefine "pressure." Stay, when you're about to run.

BELIEVE IN SOMETHING. Anything; Buddha, Christ, Monday night football, morning sex, your lucky rabbit foot- I don't care what it is- just stand, somewhere, firmly, rooted and with open arms. Be gracious. Try to be less serious for a minute, laugh at the absurdity of it all. Don't be a pushover, nicey-nice is easily replaceable/forgettable. Know when to leave..... this is a gift; don't be the last to show up and don't be the last to say "ciao"- being able to gauge the the temperature of the room is as close as you can get to being psychic.

Assemble a "tribe," every person in it should have their special skills; the friend who opens your eyes, the one who will say "yes," without asking why, the one who has wit that keeps you on your toes, the one who will nurture, the one who will teach, inspire, or defend- a "tribe" has to be DYNAMIC otherwise you'll never survive a winter, a war, a birth, a restoration, or a victory together. REFUSE TO BE ONE DIMENSIONAL.

Will you take center stage? Cause the spotlight is on you baby....the audience is waiting, TODAY.

What are you waiting for??

Love, promises, rambling; is Chelsea in Love again, WTF? Ambiguity is awesome.

2011-02-28T12:15:00.000-08:00

Hey you, eventually I'll start calling you "Mister," cause that's my way of making you more than a friend and making you a "thing," but for now you're just "you," you're the next one who makes my heart jump into my throat when you say, "My Girl," when telling your friends something about me that makes you light up with pride.

Hey, so I'm going to go into this and do it "right," I'm willing to work through the muck, to open my heart and to be more of a dream, than a nightmare....and when we're in the dark together, let's grab hands and fumble to find a match. Look, I have some "things..." we all do, right? Let's start of with this, this is my foundation of what I want to be to you; I will be the most loyal, the most open-hearted, the most sensual, brave and supportive lady you could ask for... I promise not to stop challenging you, or listening to you....I promise to honor your higher-self and I promise to never stop seeing you, so I have a simple request, can you promise me a couple things too?

Please promise to make me feel safe. Sometimes I'll do things that you won't like, but when you start to question them, if you're wondering, if you need a reminder remember this; I probably didn't mean that mean thing that I said, and I'm sorry. When you're having a hard time apologizing, surprise candy and "grand gestures," like showing up when I'm not expecting you to, always work (blame it on the romantic comedies that taught us that's what he'll do if he really means it, the "trek," the standing in the pouring rain, the throwing rocks at windows, or showing up at that-certain-place-only-he-knows-you-go-to gets us every time.) Be nice to my little sister, be protective of her- dislike her boyfriends before you like them.

If I say, "do you want to go to (insert family function here)...." just say, "yes..." your bond with them, is just as important as your bond with me. Learn my "ticks," the sounds and the motions I make before I'm going to explode, feel my energy. Even though I'm not going anywhere, I kind of like it when you get jealous from time to time.....he was flirting with me, that should bother you, I am that valuable. I want you to flourish, and I want you to want the same for me....when I seem uber-excited about a project, let me ramble- act like you care until you actually do, you caring about my "shine," makes me feel safe to be the brightest Peacock on the block, knowing that you aren't threatened or disconnecting.

If you need space, cool- we just need to have a "disconnect-reconnect" script, this is part of what stabilizes the foundation of trust, knowing that no one is running out. Faithfulness, always. faithfulness. THIS is one of my boundaries...and it will always be, can you respect me enough to honor that?

When I say, "what are you thinking?" I really just want you to tell me something, I want a peek into your private thoughts, the personal ones, even if they don't apply to me at all- I promise not to ask for you to keep that secret door open all the time, but if I knock- please let me in? Its just me... and I come in peace, I won't abuse the All-Access pass. Can we agree on no secrets, no secrets that are about US, that directly affect the evolution and health of our relationship....I promise that I won't keep any from you, so in return, please guard them?

Sometimes I'll need you to tell me, unsolicited how fucking awesome, sexy, desirable and amazing I am- no matter how secure I am- I just need this sometimes, or maybe I don't "need" it, but I like it, so I think I'm allowed to "need" something I like. I'll need you to make me feel like the most important, cherished woman in your life, next to your Mom......I really want you to love your Mom, so do that too, k?

I need you to remind me to eat something before we drink, this is more for your sake than mine, trust. Sometimes ill ask you the same question twenty different ways, probably because you didn't tell me what I wanted to hear; which is usually, "I love you, ill protect you, I'm not going anywhere. You're hotter."

Please be kind.

Am I safe, 100 percent to be me? Like all the bad, shitty parts too? Please don't shut down, even if its not about me, I take it personally, this is a classic characteristic of a neurotic, so, just tell me where you're at so that I can respect your boundaries and process.

If you're wondering if you should call, you probably should.

BE IMPECCABLE WITH YOUR WORD. Words are important to me, and showing that you honor your words, means showing action.

So here's some of my things, the ones that aren't desirable, the ones that are probably exhausting, but I'm aware of them- I KNOW, I need to work through these....can you learn to be okay with that?

I'm terrified of it all being take away from me before I can really enjoy it. Sometimes, I feel like I'm waiting for the shoe to drop. I have a crippling fear of dying before my idea of "my time"- my feelings get hurt, much easier than you'd suspect. Part of how I get people to "like me" is by acting like I don't really care if they do- even after that, I still feel like they don't. I'm afraid that I'm disposable. When he says, "you're the most precious thing in my whole world" I'm afraid that it'll be the last time he says it and it'll be the last day I'm in fact the "most" anything to him, because someone else will be introduced to him and then ill be an afterthought. I know, it seems like "a lot," sometimes it is...I'm working on it.

No matter how good I feel about myself, I fear I may not be pretty enough for everyone else in order for me to accomplish my dreams to the level I imagine. If I think my "best" is good enough, they may not agree. I worry that I'll always be misunderstood. "BORING" attached to me, or anything that I do throws me into a panic. Sometimes I fear you'll change your mind, or forget how much you love me? I'm really trying to stop doing that, can you respect my process?

There's a "dance" in love, one where both have to learn to interpret on anothers steps before we make the next move, but when we're safe- after accidentally stepping on some toes, we learn to fill in the space, trade-off who "leads," surrender to the push and the pull.... and then, sway in the space when we meet, chest to chest- heart to heart, toe to toe and to breathe in the connection. Will you dance with me?

I'm turning my "worrier" into a "Warrior" (thank you KC), I recognize that I have a CHOICE over how I feel; anxious, alone, fearful and while it isn't always easy I'm actively trying to choose the higher emotion, FIGHTING IS GOOD- I need to know that you aren't afraid of explosive emotions, heavy discussions- while I don't want them to be a focal point, or a constant, they will happen- we are two people with two different minds, different expectations....staying instead of running when there's a fight makes us warriors together, instead of apart, which ultimately- MAKES US STRONG. RESILIENT. ROOTED AND ETERNAL, it takes our love from shallow to "forever."

I will do my best not to be defensive, I will not throw your/our past in your face, I will let go of the need to "be right," I will learn to take, "I don't know" as an answer until you DO know.....I will always, always think you're the sexiest- I will remember your Mother's birthday, I will fill in your weak spots and let you fill in mine, I will make you smile and laugh-everyday, I will be your best fan/groupie/cheerleader, I will be "on fire," in my life and I will share it with you and visa versa, I will grow and explore with and without you, knowing at the end of the day, you're my guy and we're in it together. I will accept your eccentricities and and I will admire, respect, adore and melt for you....always.

What are some of your "LOVE" boundaries?

Valentines update: Oh heyyy, happiness? Where ya been?

2011-02-17T00:00:00.000-08:00

OH LAWWWWDDDDD....

You know what happens when you quit your job and you start three new ones, while also settling into your new rhythm and what the fuck to eat for breakfast now that office snacks are gone? What happens is, you have laser beam focus for a solid 72 hours, you put on soap operas for background noise, you power through and then you realize, (three days later) you've neglected incredibly important day-to-days; bathing, reading blogs, writing blogs, uhhh shaving, calling your best friend about "that thing with the condom and oh shit, I have so many things to tell her, I'll call her later after my brain explodes." Amongst other important things that a sane person does.

All that to be said, I'm FINDING MY WAY. I'm not just dancing to a different beat, except for I'm deciding which instruments I really want to use and in what capacity, then learning how to "do the dance," with all my own moves, straight up creation central.

Friday, my last day, when I went to my car after my incredible colleagues wished me well with brews and advice like, "As long as you don't encounter Charlie Sheen in Hollywood, you'll be golden!" I discovered my car was broken into; shattered glass, a missing iPod and a missing makeup bag (right?) I could have cried, or mourned my various palettes of Mac eyeshadow, but instead.....I waved goodbye to my colleagues, drove an hour in the cold, sans window, glass dangerously scattered in pretty pieces all over my seat, I cranked up my stereo, and thought, you said you wanted NEW, well, you're getting new, sister. Something about the absurdity of it all made my smile, a genuine GRATEFUL grin.

...the next day, I took myself out for champagne, Red Velvet Cheesecake, a Burlesque show, a mani/pedi and I enjoyed the extra breeze. On Sunday, when I received a call that my Mac computer wasn't salvageable after water damage and it was, "time to buy a new machine...." I said, "Thank you Sir," and proceeded to make myself an impeccable dinner, while dancing my new dance moves, sans music, the song in my head had a happy enough tune to try out some of that new SPRING in my step; you said you wanted NEW, well, you're getting new, sister.

.....when I caught myself clutching onto my phone waiting for my ex to call on Valentines Day, I caught myself- YOU were all out there doing it, honoring yourselves, smiling inwardly and whistling at the sexy thing in the mirror and I had my hand halfway down a box of Special K, out of milk and watching back episodes of Basketball Wives until 2pm. THEN, I pulled it together....read all of your amazing tweets, posts, encouragement and thought, "Woman up Chelsea, what's the matter with you?!" and BAM, twenty minutes later I was cooing at the entire Nordstrom's staff over my brand new Michael Kors heels and handing out my blog address to my new friends who were also single-shoe-medicating. Look, I'm not even a SHOE GIRL, but these shoes, on this day, for whatever reason had me prancing out of the store with a new swagger. I scored a new vintage dress and tipped into a swanky lounge for a full order of truffle oil Mac & Cheese and dessert and you know what happened? The grip on my phone loosened, I wasn't WAITING for anything, or anyone... because I had arrived. Best Party Ever, table for one, thanks.

While I was in yoga today I thought about the stuff, the things that would usually yank me into dark-twisty-chelsea, the things that needed fixing, schedules that needed cramping and while bending and cracking open my chest cavity, opening my heart, tipping it upside down and toppling over, I felt 100% rooted in love, gratitude and.....woa, shit is that.....happiness? I lifted my heart to the sky, closed my eyes and thought; you wanted NEW, well, you're getting new, sister.

My friends, my family, my skin, the people who shoot up my daily caffeine intake at the Buck, have all noticed the lightness in my spirit, they "hear it in my voice." I can genuinely, with the tenacity of a thousand gem-bellied-trolls hopped up on pure cane sugar, say that I AM HAPPY. HAPPY. I had to type it twice since the word has missed gracing these pages.

And with happiness, comes gratitude- I could say it every single time I write something, but I am grateful for you- for sifting through my gibberish, for connecting, for sharing your stories with me- for revisiting your broken hearts and handing your mended ones in my direction for encouragement. Every email, every comment, tweet, post- I read them all and want to individually grab you all and give you a be SMACK on the cheek, a lip smack of course. Thank you Valentines Warriors who participated, spread the word and treated yourself:

Habbala and all of her friends, Amanda who spent her day on her own Roman Holiday in Italy, Paula who took herself to resort for the weekend, VanCityFemme, Gina Marie Rose, Mama Said No, Amy Joys, Unabashedly Me, Coffee, Calculations and Colombia, Mmbizon, Jen who sent one of the bravest emails I've ever read, Grad Tao, Ronda Uncensored, Nicole's Long Way, Jenerally Speaking, Dare My Truth, Pure Katherine, Pirate Meghan, Twiggles and Sweeney, Asplenia, Ashalah, Lemmonex, The Debt Chronicles, Never Niche, Toy With Me, Erin B. Inspired, Lizziecatkaye, Jennifer Alaine, LivitLuvit, Doniree, Ameena Marie, Alexis Kwerk, Aprilstotle, Sativa Bella, Lola Sangria, Brandy is Magic, A Life in Translation, Hillary with two L's ...if I missed your Valentines post, shoot me a note.

The winner of the giveaway for goes to Twiggles and Sweeney, she'll be receiving cookies from Bitter Baking Company, a t-shirt from Dressing on the Side, goodies from the heart warriors at Pink Kisses, and a basket of stuff from MOI.

BACK TO REGULAR, SIGNIFICANTLY HAPPIER PROGRAMMING SOON......

I love you all. xo.

*Read another one of my guest posts on LOVE, here.

What does "HAPPY" feel like to you?