Archive for the ‘life’ Category

fieldnotes on motherhood, vol. 11

April 26, 2018

fieldnotes on motherhood, vol 10.


tunes of 2017

December 31, 2017

okay babies, here it is: my annual playlist for 2017, primed, primped and ready for the play button. each of these ditties certainly helped carry me through this motherfucker of a year. may they also make you want to smile, or breathe, or just keep dancing in spite of it all.



happy 2018, all! let’s own the shit out of the next 365.

the self(ie) love project 2017

August 6, 2017

womanhood. kind eyes. resilience. sass. a heart that feels. pretty skin. good bones. happiness. high vibration. gratitude. my dad’s eyes. just the right amount of crazy. a hard worker. a pretty face. a bitch who knows some shit. my vulnerability. my strength. my essence. my old soul. some swagger. a sense of humor. contentment. myself. a certain elegance. peacefulness. sexiness. a girl trying to get out of her own way. warmth. a woman willing to laugh at herself. a beautiful, intelligent, strong, caring woman of great depth and fierce spirit learning to honor herself and stand in her own truth.

that’s what i see when i look at me.

selfie project 2017

signs for healing, signs of hope: women’s march L.A.

January 22, 2017
































































the falcon: ode to a car lost

December 31, 2016


i wonder
when they took you
if they noticed your smell,
that comforting mix of cool metal, warm leather,
and the more elusive qualities of age.
did they have trouble with the downshift
into first, like i always did,
or note the gentle “put-put” scales
of your acceleration?
could they feel the familiar slump
to your driver’s seat,
the way the back grooved just so,
a perfect echo of another’s body?
was that intimacy enough to make even
their heart blush?

was there more than one of them?
and, if so,
did the second one feel
the satisfying heft of your door clanking shut?
were my toeprints still there,
on the dash, and the windshield,
gauzing their view of the getaway route?
did they attempt to unroll
your fickle passenger side window,
finding, finally, that
jingle-jangle rhythm of release?
did they slide, intuitively, into that place
you always held,
elbow slung out the window,
neck nestled against your seat,
hair tousled (illicitly) by the passing breeze?
and did they smile, in spite of themselves
and the cold sting of their departure?
i wouldn’t blame them.
life always felt better from that spot.

were their silhouettes
the same as ours, framed
by the gentle arc of your rear window,
and the ruby glow of your tail lights?
or did they read,
through the noir haze of late night,
like the fugitives they were?
did they feel the way the world looked at you
with admiration,
how you were a gateway
to so many unplanned conversations,
so many unorchestrated connections?

i wonder
when they looked at you
if they saw only the price tags dangling
from your disembodied parts.
or did they also understand
the shared history they were dismantling,
the planned future they were tearing apart?

did they know
that just two blocks away
slept a man, a woman,
and one little boy,
who would miss you everyday
like a lost piece of their own hearts?

– a.
december 28, 2016


fieldnotes on motherhood, vol. 9

December 13, 2016

like absorbing
a hundred bombs a day —
a thousand —
with the very core
of your being,
into the very synapses
of your soul
but then later,
at bedtime,
the folding up small
into one another
inhabiting the same space
returning to the same
home base.

like sneaking past
the monster’s den
on the tippy toes
of your breath,
waiting for the tremble
in the earth
bracing for the roar
but then after,
the storm past,
light spilling from your smile
from your eyes
melting the memory
of colder hours.

like trying to
tame the lion
and again
knowing that it can’t help the truth
of its own wildness,
that it will bite the hand
that feeds it
but then at night,
your voice in the darkness,
calling out
for solace
for security
for love
calling out for me.

that’s what i’ll tell you
when you ask
what it was like
when you were two.

– a.
december 13, 2016


still hoping after all these fears

November 9, 2016

everybody in this country was feeling some kind of way this morning. winners. losers. hims. hers. dark, light, rich, poor, red, blue, educated or not. we all had a stake in what happened last night, just as we all have a stake in what lies ahead. i’m not afraid to admit i was saddened by last night’s results. not so much because of who won or lost, but because of the principles that appear to be the prevailing voice of this country. what’s done is done, and yes, moving forward means coming to terms with the outcome presented to us. but i refuse to accept that a great America is one built on a foundation of fear, hate, exclusion and aggression. whatever our politics, whatever our individual needs, we cannot hope for betterment as people, and as a nation, if we can’t stay connected to our own shared humanity. so as we look ahead, let us do so with understanding in mind and compassion at heart. let the path forward be a bridge that unites us, not an endless valley filled with resentment, anger, and disappointment. yes, let’s be great, America, but let us also be full of grace. let us find the dignity in respectfulness, and the courage behind love. that’s a future i’m proud to stand behind; that’s a future that gives me hope for my son, for us all.


fieldnotes on motherhood, vol. 8

July 26, 2016


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fieldnotes on motherhood, vol. 7

May 20, 2016


that moment

(as a mother)

when you realize what you have to do


let go of

doesn’t make it

any easier

to watch you grow up.


– a.

may 19, 2016

friday vibes

January 29, 2016