My choices have made no sense. I look back and don’t understand a thing. It all made sense until I graduated high school. I was the perfect little girl. I didn’t question anything. I had no issues with any teachers or any authority figure. Some people around me did have some issues with me. Just my existence seemed to bother them. I had a cousin whose sole purpose was to make my life miserable. There was this other girl Regina, she wanted me to have no friends. So, even without me being aware of it…I was an outcast. It was all subconscious. I was different but nobody informed me. More than that, I was thrown into the most logical, structured, controlled environment you could think of. I was innocent, I was pure. I didn’t know much at the time. I graduated with good grades and then it all began. My subconscious mind started to act out. I got into a very prestigious University, as it was to be expected. I got in, the extended family was happy. Then, everything the professors were saying made no sense. They were telling us how to think. They were telling us nothing mattered more than money. I snapped.

I had always liked music but I had been shy. I didn’t want to be like everybody else. Odd since that had been what I had done for 18 years. How could I know anything else? Maybe it was my mom. My mom was typical but not quite. She also had this spark in her that told her there was more. She saw me before I saw me. She knew I was an artist. I didn’t even know the definition of such person. It’s OK to be odd? How could that be? All that had mattered was doing what I was told.

I said goodbye to the prestigious University that would have gotten me any job I’d like and decided to move to L.A and study music. There was one little problem I did not quite contemplate. I didn’t know how to commit to being a rebel. Yes, it was there…but so was the logical side that I had worked on for so long. I embarked on my journey as an artist and didn’t make it. That’s OK. Everyone needs a happy ending; I’ve learned that they are not what they seem. Life isn’t what it seems. And that’s fine.

So I’m always in between. The only little thing was that I never committed to the logical side or the artistic side. I’m both. I’m always in between. Because of this, I suffer. I don’t feel like I fit in here not there. This all started when I was 19. I realized I was half and half. It has caused much pain but hey…you can’t be something you’re not.

I love prestige and success. I love raw and real. I love being free but I think money is great. I like things to be easy but the struggle also inspires me to write. I have a logical boyfriend and he pushes me more towards the logical side and I think deep down inside I’m more an artist. Why? They’re cooler, they’re rarer. They are admired, they leave a mark.

And so, the last three years and a half was the longest I was able to commit to being outside the system and some sort of artist. I wrote a book, I had gigs around town for a year and I started two blogs. I guess that’s something. And then, suddenly, I ran out of money. It had happened before but and this is a big but; now I’m in love. As most know, love changes everything. Love doesn’t allow you to get away with a lot of crap you can get away with when you’re single. You can eat soup everyday and it doesn’t matter if you’re single. But, as I’ve mentioned before, he’s the logical type and he’s somebody. I don’t know what that means. That’s a lie; I do know what that means but I’m a bit surprised I ended up with someone so different than what I’ve become. I haven’t just ended up with him, I’m madly and deeply in love with him. Who am I then? I’m willing to move to a high paced city and get a more corporate job so that I can “make it”. Am I being a hypocrite or is that who I am? It doesn’t matter. I guess sometimes some things shouldn’t be associated with our identity.

Our plan is to work and save and travel. Yes, that’s right. I said our plan. Never had my plan included someone else and now it does. I’m grateful for this love. I’m simply going through this transition. I feel blindfolded. I feel neutral. I feel this is what has to happen. It has made me cry a couple of times. It has caused pain. But that’s fine. Who would I be without pain? My life never seems to be calm, it never seems to be figured out and I should embrace that. It has been anything but boring.

So yes; this is a bit painful. And you know what? That’s fine. Pain isn’t about avoidance. Pain demands to be felt so there you go pain. I feel you, I embrace you, I don’t resist you. We can be friends and write beautiful things together. You’re here and you are not ignored.

That’s the thing about pain; it demands to be felt. Yes, I feel pain. But I’m smart and pretty and I can keep calm and carry on.


Find Never Land

Time is an illusion and Never Land is a place far away that some people have traveled to and many strive to go to. You would think that it’s packed with people cruising around the illusion and the dream but unfortunately only true purple people get to go. There are no short cuts to get there. It takes time, speaking up when you’re suppose to, not caring about the aliens that try to invade your privacy, etc. You also have to go through a lot of questioning. Questioning what you learn, what they tell you to do and almost everything to become purple. You basically have to realize that everything is upside down.

Another important part to find this place is taking the time to observe people’s true color. It becomes easier with practice and then you find purple people such as yourself that are also looking for this place but then you realize that the fact that you find other purple people makes this place look like Never Land. The reason why it’s called Never Land is because you may never know exactly what it looks like but then you also realize that you never needed to know. Once you make the decision, all the wonder starts and you get to see what heaven on earth looks like. There are many tunnels or instant passageways that take you to Never Land. It is different for every person. Some people are born knowing how to get there and they know what it takes and what they have to sacrifice. They know it’s not an option to give up on the journey since they raised their hand for the assignment. They know that it’s worth it. But then for some of us it takes a bit of time to realize we’re purple. And for many others it may even take a lifetime and even then, it’s not too late.

I’d like to encourage people to become purple or whatever color works for them, so they get to go to this marvelous place. Go through whatever you have to go through, even if it sometimes hurts. Whether it’s being different, experiencing a loss of a sort, dreaming big or being in the wrong song. This is what makes you and the more you make peace with your past, the easier the present moment becomes. And when you start to enjoy the moment, you’re in.

When I found Never Land, or more like created it, I don’t know how I did without it. It’s so peaceful, unique and windy that it makes me never want to leave. It has crystal clear water, I get to choose the weather and music plays without it having to stop. It is very colorful and time doesn’t matter. I get to compose, read, write and fall in love all the time in this wonderful place. Beauty is beyond words and people’s souls shine through like a ray of light. I sing and everyone can listen; I am constantly inspired and full of ideas when I travel to this place. Instead of sand you find gold dust and the sky is enchanted with clouds that have been painted personally for me. The trees grow as fast as sound and you never have to worry about anything ever again. This is how I feel when I go there. And sometimes I get to play with Red and she whispers beautiful stories into my subconscious.

Find your Never Land and you’ll never want to leave. I know I won’t.

Party girls

Party girls don’t get hurt, Sia’s right. Why does the numbness make big girls cry in the darkness then? Where do these suppressed emotions go? Do we bury them deeper or do we become so good at pretending that they actually disappear.


 Party girls drink, this is true. Why do some have it together so easily and these girls don’t? How did we become these party girls? We like the attention, we like the emotions. We’re fabulous and nobody can deny it. Behind the scenes isn’t as glamorous but equally beautiful.


 We just want to fly through the night and have our tears finally dry out. Will they ever disappear? Will age help? I don’t know. Until morning light, we’ll keep the glasses full. Until the moon vanishes, we’ll hold on as tightly as we can. The shame will show up but soon enough, the night will come again.


 Losing count might be the only thing that makes us not lose it completely. Swinging from a chandelier seems perfectly understandable when this living situation makes no sense whatsoever. We don’t know where we are or where we’re suppose to be. It rang true to my heart.


 I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to escape. Have I succeeded? Well, can anyone escape themselves? Until I know, I’ll hold on for dear life.


She was born in December. Her skin was pale as snow and her eyes black as night. The stars pulled her hair and talked to her constantly, especially when it was pitch black dark…they’d whisper lovely secrets into her ears.

Once the day came, she started to see other creatures. Most of them came in pairs. Venus started telling her about love and how she should desire it deeply. She was too young and easily got distracted by pretty things so she forgot to ask the purple goddess exactly why she should desire romance. But she believed her.

During the night she rejoiced in her solitude. During the day she searched for her mate. Everyone seemed to be taken. Some that she liked were wandering souls. They wouldn’t stay. Others were boring because all they did at night was sleep, afraid of the dark, afraid of the unknown.

Venus kept pushing her and as soon as she became old enough, Winter decided to sleep more at night so she’d have more energy during the day to look for that perfect other.

She’d sleep, wake up, search. The stars started to become a distant memory. Her hair wasn’t as messy as when she wandered through the night. She used to float, she used to sing, she was free.

The days became longer, the search harder. She’d meet creatures and they were never quite right. She’d sleep more, hoping maybe the right one would at least show up in her dreams.

It was her 30th birthday and she remained alone. The sadness put her in a comatose state. She was about to give up. And then one night, she had a nightmare. It was full of fearful monsters and settlers. In the dream everyone had somebody but they were utterly miserable. They had all chosen comfort over authenticity.

Winter woke up startled and couldn’t go back to sleep. She stepped outside into the woods and looked up. It all came back. The connection and contrast was too strong to ever fully escape her.

The stars pulled her back in. The darkness of the night hugger her. Winter began to create her very own constellations. The music returned. The trees danced in harmony. She decided to marry the night. It all made sense again.

During the day she’d plan for the night. Some creatures started to pursue Winter but now, she wasn’t willing to give up her nights.

This time, she’d wait for one that wouldn’t just keep her company during the days but also would embrace her endless nights. One who understood her restless heart. One who wasn’t afraid of the dark, one who wouldn’t run away and was clever enough to know that the only way to keep her was to let her go and let her be.

Until then, Winter would create, she would float, she would shine.


She woke up in the woods and couldn’t remember a thing. She vaguely remembered who she was but didn’t remember what she believed in. She woke up to a world where she had made many mistakes, she couldn’t remember but she could feel it. What she didn’t get was how those mistakes were designed for her to understand life a little bit better, in a different way. She had to let go of the concepts ‘the others’ had brainwashed into her mind. She was young but not terribly so. She was strong, but sometimes not strong enough. She knew better but forgot that she did.

After finding her way out of the woods, she was in a place full of people. She was no longer alone but felt terribly lonely. She wanted to float away and be back in the woods where it was only her and nature.

The people around her had lives, full ones it seemed. The people around her knew what they were doing, or so it seemed. Everyone pretended, or so it seemed. But what she didn’t yet know is that the only ones who really have it together are the ones that don’t care if they do or not. They are the ones that knew better than to show off.

She woke up and started to remember. She woke up and knew that not knowing was OK. That her mistakes weren’t life threatening. All she could do was remind herself over and over again what it’s all about. All she could do sometimes was eat the fresh fruit, nourish herself with kind words and walk freely through wherever she seemed to be. Yes, sometimes it was too small but it was also lovely.

Everyday she forgot. Everyday she had to remember. Some days the joy took over and other days the struggle was uphill. Some days she woke up after a nightmare and others after a beautiful dream. Some days it took her minutes to find her way, others almost the entire day. Reading helped, writing saved her. Singing made her float and capturing images opened her eyes.

It’s fine to feel as though it’s too much, so long as you keep going even when you really don’t want to. So long as you don’t give up, that’s fine. Others might not seem to swim against the current as much but that’s not you. You are you and you’re supposed to make the most of it. You’re not suppose to question as much as you do, just enough. You’re supposed to remember because some never even wake up. Some remain, never to be truly seen. Others wake up only to get lost and never be found. Be grateful. Stay strong and know that even when you feel alone, you’re not. There has to be someone else in this very big world that feels the same way. And if you’re lucky, you’ll find those restless souls and keep each other company for a while. Just try to remember, close your eyes and remember.

Hers and mine

This concept came to me whilst I admired a red head’s music. A singer songwriter at heart, I not only listen to her music; I breathe it in, I feel it pass through me. I shiver as the piano makes that very grand sound. She has compared playing the piano to breathing. I can only imagine that it’s because it comes so naturally to her and because without it she simply couldn’t live, it wouldn’t be her. I see her and it’s inexplicable. For the longest time I wanted to be her. How could I not? Her enchanting talent, her message, and her strength were empowering. Especially to a little girl who wasn’t sure who she wanted to be.

But now I want to be me. I want my voice to be heard. Not with desperation, but with a certain calmness that only maturity can bring. I wanted to be anyone but myself and that is the opposite of what my desire should have been. The one true reason I admire the people that I do is because they are unapologetically themselves. Why then would I strive not to do the same?

Most people who know me well enough say that music is the path for my voice to be heard. But I can see several paths. I can see a straight line and a zigzag. I can see the moments when it’s downhill and the uphill cliff. I want to try the fruit from different trees, not just one. I might not be able to try it all, but at least some. I love the music, but I also love the words. I love the images and also the designs. I strive to be myself and every single shade in between.

This time I will do it and I will do it right. I will rid myself of confusion and doubt. I will let go of the fear and finally embrace who I am. So far, it’s been quite liberating. I guess the only obstacle to become me, was me.

Yes, her voice is enchanting and has a very unique message from Peggy. But mine can be just as great. Admiration can blind us into forgetting about ourselves and our expression. It’s no one’s fault. It’s our job to fall in love with this body we’re in. It’s our job to be infatuated with the creature that is us. Because if we aren’t madly in bliss with the experience we’re having, what’s the point of life? It’s incredible how we give our power away when we should protect it.

Her voice inspired me to find my own and for that I am forever grateful. Just never forget, in the midst of the madness, that more than looking up to anybody…you should look up to yourself. Then suddenly, your worries won’t be a burden; they’ll slowly vanish. You’ll breathe easy and know there’s nothing better than being your own.


Today, I sing. Today isn’t perfect but right. Today, I have a voice and won’t be left silent.

Only when you’re left silent and alone do you truly appreciate your voice and honest company. After you’ve felt it, you can’t go back. You cross over to the other side and trust you’ll somehow find your way. It’s sometimes dark and unknown but beautiful in how it blooms.

It makes you tremble, it makes you doubt, even fear. But you should still walk through. I couldn’t do it. I wanted to walk into the other galaxy and shine but wasn’t ready. I’m slowly learning to be kind, to be fine.

Today, I sing. Today, I not only sing but cherish it more than words can say. I had a voice and I lost it. I had a voice and I didn’t believe in it. I had a voice and started to love it. I have a voice and today is the day when I sing again.

How beautiful it is to have a voice; to be heard, to live. Once you get to know who you are you feel like you shine, you must walk through the door and float.

It took me forever to get here but I am here. I’m not her but I get to be me. I’m not perfect but today I get to sing. I’m on my own and finally at peace with what I’ve grown into.

It can get tricky but it is crucial to find your voice. It might be big or tiny but it’s yours and nobody else has the message you have, so fear nothing. It sounds generic at times but it’s true.

Question whatever doesn’t make sense and make up your own rules. You’ll be surprised how it finds a way to word itself out. Voice your thought, voice your message and you might inspire others to venture out and find who they really are.

You might be close or far, far away, that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you get there. Get there even if you must face demons and monsters. Get there and then the piece start to finally fall in the right place. Find your sound and the voices in your head will start making much more sense.


I lost you. He lost me. Not because he didn’t care, or so I like to think. I didn’t lose him because I tried too hard, or so I like to think. I lost the spark that was once on fire. The fire didn’t know how to hide from the wind.

The black dress she swore she would never stop wearing got lost. Where did it go? Nobody knows. He cannot seem to find the tie he left on the bed but was stolen by someone who thought knew better than him.

Why do we lose things? I know it’s not about dwelling on the past but what if it what was found was meant to be? How do you get over something so real? I don’t have the answer for this one.

I cannot get over the talent that I’ve witnessed. How can something marvelous end? She thought that if she kept singing, he’d keep playing the guitar. But the voice has been paused and the guitar is hidden away in a dark closet somewhere. They played games together and created magic one last time before it was all lost; maybe for a while, maybe forever, nobody truly knows.

I lose it, the voice I had. It will find its way back but for now, it’s lost. And I can’t seem to find true love as if it’s hiding from me forever but hopefully just for a while. The loneliness has been found, then lost and terribly fleeting.

But some things are bigger than you and me. Some things are made to change the world and nothing should matter more than that. The message shouldn’t be lost, the purpose. If you’re lucky enough to know why you’re here, don’t lose it. I don’t know why or how we lose but so long as we don’t lose what matters most and find a way to leave this world better than it was before we came, not all is lost.

Magical duo

This is a tribute to him and her. The ones that keep fighting The Civil Wars that seem timeless but sadly will come to an end. They have put a spell on me with their melodic voices. The tension between their souls is almost as palpable as their chemistry. Why do we fight? How can we let go of something magical just because we can’t coexist? Must we let go of the love of our lives just because it’s complicated? I do not know what is happening in between their lives but I am a witness to their bittersweet musical interpretation.

They’re on the tip of my tongue and I feel no one can replace their braided souls. Yes, it makes sense that it would be complex for them to be able to compose such beauty in paper.

They decided to name themselves in honor of the wars we fight constantly. What I didn’t expect was for the war to become bigger than the magic. If I’m ever as lucky as to find that piece of the puzzle, I won’t be able to let go of it; it simply fits too perfectly. The Civil Wars were built on the tension and the passion. They could draw from the source of all the opposites we feel when in love and out of love. Falling for them was as inevitable as a dreamer following a dream. The flowers bloom and so does the girl with the red balloon.

The secret little stories uttered into the wind in the form of notes have had an impact on my life. They might love and hate each other but all I feel for them is admiration and gratitude for the inspiration they have brought out in me. The little black dress and the bow tie complement each other so well that it probably clouded their vision of what mattered most. I do not know them but know of what they have done and that’s enough to crave them long time.

Maybe from where they’re standing there’s only poison and not enough wine. From where they are, they have caught amnesia and have forgotten how much they can’t do without each other. But so long as the magic keeps flowing through, I’ll keep listening and hoping. The volcano has erupted but what has come of it is an endless supply of unforgettable whispers sung deep into my veins.

This is a tribute not just to the artists but also to the source that they were able to so clearly tap. Whatever happens; beauty, chaos and art happened because of something bigger than the people themselves. So long as the instruments of inspiration keep flowing through, this world will make sense; it always will.