falling off the wagon

I have a shopping addiction. I admit it. Im addicted to shopping and mostly what I buy is little crap that I don't need. Some stuff that I even wonder why I bought it!
Well I was doing really well. I only shopped a little and with my own money. I was proud of myself. But then my grandpa got sick and we have to take care of him at our  house.
And well,  I fell off the wagon big time! I was buying everything and anything that remotely interested me even if it was only for a moment. and i just needed that moment to buy it, leaving me to wonder why did I buy that?
Anyway it got worse and worse until I ended up cutting my arm with a pin trying to carve the words : bad girl"  It was when I realized I needed help not only with shopping but with my cutting problem.
so I called my therapist and set up an appointment as soon as possible.
We talked and soon got to the root of  my shopping and cutting problem. It was due to my PTSD. and so if anyone is reading this blog and has a shopping problem I just want to say I know how you feel and where you're coming from. dont despair admit you have a problem and talk to a doctor about seeing a professional to help you with your problem!

Sorry I havent been posting lately but Im back! (Again)

There has been a lot of things that have been happening in my life lately. What I really want to talk about is the great guy I met. We met online, and we clicked right away. HE a poet, ME an artist of paints, graphite and graphic design.  He is the sweetest person I ever met. and I have gone on a lot of dates. im not a slut though, my last romance was 4 years ago and it ended badly. Since then I have been afraid of dating. But that all changed when I met this wonderful man. We went on our first date yesterday. We went to a bookstore that had a cafe in it. We talked about art, poetry, being published. YES HE'S A PUBLISHED POET how awesome is that???? we laughed we smiled and the time went by way too quickly. I think I'm falling in love. a real kind of love. not puppy love or school girl love. But please dont panic, I'm taking it slow. I promise. anyway this is just a quick update on whats happening in my life

there it was. on top of the old grand stair case that gave way the the tragedy of time. It was a music box, trimmed with gold and silver round it's outer shell. if one were to look at it, they would think it was some gift left behind after the manor was mysteriously abandoned. but the music box held a sercet, a secret to the reason why the house was abandoned and sold to the hands of time. if one were to open the music box.....oh the tales it told with it's dancing figures in the center of the box twirllin with the haunting medloy that the music box sang softly. The figures would dance and twirl around and around. But the medoly was more than a song of olden times, it was the waltz to where the spirits danced to. spirits entered with graceful movement from the windows, to watlz with the couple dancing in the center of the ballroom. The same couple that was held in the music box. the music box was the only music to be heard with the ghostly ball. beautiful and chilling were the dancing figures with their sweaping ball gowns of the 19th century. They would dance and dance.....until the music box was closed, and as quickly as they came, they vanished, except for the couple that were in the music box, in silence, the couple watzled arcoss the floor of the haunted ballroom, they were lovers at one point till a terrible tragedy crushed the couple. a tragedy of jealously, a tradegy of murder. for there was another man who longed to dance and love the woman who was held in her lover's arms as they danced across the ballroom. An unstable fool was the jealous fool, a duke. he hated the woman's lover. HE should be in her arms like that for he loved her for years. But everytime he tried to win her over, she held on to the arm of her lover. She scorned the fool with the flowers he brought her daily, without fail, she threw the flowers back at him. the poor foul he longed for her. and was determined to have her as his wife. poor fool. for she would not have him. She was already in love, with the simple painter that she always danced with. The figure she held in the music box. The duke, mad with love and hatred, swore he would have her as his wife....even if he had to kill. even if he had to murder the painter, an insult was the painter in the eyes of the maddened duke. why should she love such a poor man, when she could have all the riches she could dream of, when she could marry a duke. No, she loved the simple and poor painter who painted landscapes, and the beauty of the sky. no, this poor painter would not take the duke's maiden away from him. He became insane for the love of the woman, he dreamed of her day and night, he saw her face everywhere in the mirror he looked in to shave his beard, in the carriage that he rode in. in the windows of his palace. he heard her laughter in the wind, in the horses' whine, in the streets, in the rain. He was insane with his frustration and denied love. he no longer cared about anything else. He let his manor go to waste, he spent all of his fortune on his desire with his denied love

THE FAIRIES William Allingham An Irish folklore

I was doing some research on Irish folklore and came upon this charming poem, please enjoy Happy St. Patrick's Day :)

Up the airy mountain,
  Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
  For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
  Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
  And white owl's feather!

Down along the rocky shore
  Some make their home,
They live on crispy pancakes
  Of yellow tide-foam;
Some in the reeds
  Of the black mountain lake,
With frogs for their watch-dogs,
  All night awake.
High on the hill-top
  The old King sits;
He is now so old and grey
  He's nigh lost his wits.
With a bridge of white mist
  Columbkill he crosses,
On his stately journeys
  From Slieveleague to Rosses;
Or going up with music
  On cold starry nights,
To sup with the Queen
  Of the gay Northern Lights.
They stole little Bridget
  For seven years long;
When she came down again
  Her friends were all gone.
They took her lightly back,
  Between the night and morrow,
They thought that she was fast asleep,
  But she was dead with sorrow.
They have kept her ever since
  Deep within the lake,
On a bed of flag-leaves,
  Watching till she wake.
By the craggy hill-side,
  Through the mosses bare,
They have planted thorn-trees
  For pleasure here and there. p. 5
Is any man so daring
  As dig them up in spite,
He shall find their sharpest thorns
  In his bed at night.
Up the airy mountain,
  Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
  For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
  Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
  And white owl's feather!

My dirty little secret

I have a secret. Not a big secret, nothing deep and dark and earthshaking. But a secret none the less. What might it be? Could it be a secret lover? or maybe a juicy murder? of course not! But its a secret that Im not that proud of but shouldnt be embarrassed of this secret either.


I have an addiction. No I'm not a drunk, or smoke weed. I'm not addicted to drugs and snort white crap up my nose. Its a quiet addiction. An addiction that most ppl dont really notice... or know what to look for in this addiction. What might it be?


I admit it. Im addicted to shopping.  It all started when my Grandma died of brain cancer last summer. I was very close to my grandma. She helped raise me along with my mom and grandpa.  We played dolls together. Went to the store together. She went to  Russia with my mom to adopt me. She was one of my best friends.


Soon after her death it started, nothing big, just 5 dollars here, 6 dollars there.  It was a lot of small things, mostly cheap costume jewelry. like a red queen necklace, or a mad hatter ring. Sometimes credits for a game. But it doesnt matter what I bought. it was never enough. It would give me happiness for a day maybe two days then it got old, and forgotten. Then I wanted to buy more... and more... and more....


It got to the point where i maxed out credit cards, got my mom's accounts blocked. But i still found ways to shop. I went to stores and shopped. Often for things I didnt even need or remember why I wanted it in the first place. It didnt matter. I just needed the feel of something new. 


It was easy to shop at stores because my grandfather gives me a generous allowance every week.


I realized that I needed to stop or I would run my family into debt. It was hard to stop shopping. I still have a hard time. I stopped cold turkey. and it was harder than hell. I wanted an excuse to shop for everything and anything. But everyday I fought to curb my shopping everyday. 


I earn my money now. so now Im learning the meaning of a dollar. Because once my money for that week runs out, thats it, I have to earn it by doing chores around the house, it's not just handed to me anymore. Im also not allowed to shop online, or by myself. I only take a certain amount of money with me everytime I go shopping.


so there's my little dirty secret I'm addicted to shopping.

Im BAAAACCKK!

Hey everyone, or anyone, I'm back. It's been years since I last posted, and a lot of shit has been happening since. But I don't really feel like going into all that. Right now I want to talk about how art school is going. I got accepted into CIA.. Cleveland Institute of Art. I'm in my sophomore year, and I'm majoring in Drawing.

Now some people, ok ok, a lot of people ask me : "what kind of job are you going to get with that major?" and similar comments, questions, etc.

This is what I have to say: I'm not looking for a job, I'm building a career. There's a huge difference between the two. A job isn't a career, it's just something you do to pay the bills, order a pizza, etc, a job can become a career if you become passionate about it. A career is something that you love to do, and you grow in many ways, it's a passion, and the money is a bonus. Its not about the money, while a job is about the money.

I really don't care or would be embarrassed if I lived at home for the rest of my life. I want to wake up everyday and get pumped up about the day and what I do. I don't want to hate getting up and dragging myself to my job.

beyond the winter garmentsof these trees' fleshlay spirits of souls forgotten among the newly birthed December snow,and if you care to join me amongst this winter tale, come with anew hearts o'er flowing withchild's laughter of innocent play.

listen, for softly they whisper forgotten winters' lullabies.

amongst this December night's wind,

They have a story to share for those who wish to hear with gentle hearts thy Lord finds pure.

Step ever so gentle, love, least you abandon the meaning of their stay this Winters eve.

as we walk past their weary refuge of trees left in slumber,thy eyes of Winters children past gleam dance within the icicles that make they winter home among branches.

With silence you can hear the children of past

Winters laughter of innocent charm

throughout the wearied land that lay in awaiting slumber
for the day of peace is at hand.
Their winter tale of love breathes
enchantment throughout the land.
Long a go in a time forgotten by modern man,
these children of forgotten winters
played with hearts of peace and love,
they listened to the stories fearies of snowflakes told,
and laughed as the madien of snow that children's hands gave birth to
danced for them with perfect grace
they sat in mediviel castles of white snow;
though they grew old and wearied by the hand of society
their laughter still rings clear
throughout the snow they chastened
and engraved their childish games of winter charm
within each falling snowflake.
Listen dearest heart of hope, listen for they call out
to bless you with Christ's tidings of joy and love divine.
And if the heart of hardened men bare down on you,
walk with me my love through Winters laughter
and forsake the pain of wars brought by cold hearts
of material lust.
The spirits of winters past
touch your shoulder
though you turn to see their face,
they have gone
but with their stay they give their gift of child's love.
Though this last not forever,
the memories and joy they bring last for eternal.
The children's hands wrap around your arms
though their faces are not seen,
the presences that they leave behind,
we hold and cherish for all time.
Long a go
many years before our eyes saw this earth,
These children share they story
on each winter evening
when hearts of love and hearts of joy
walk throughout the lands of whiten blankets cover,
where children of winters past
once shared a childish game of love and joy,
with in their own world of enchantment
and diamond snow,
where faeries dance throughout.
Though we may go our seperate days,
forget not the day the children of winter past shared their
winter tale of hope and love
of faeries and of snow madiens.
of Medivel castles
a meaning of hope rests in the trees we past.
Walking through winter's enchantment
spirits of thy hollow worlds dance within skys of white enchanment