Large money, little man

Slamming on his brakes, while raising his arm preparing for a stern backhand, I saw my worst nightmare unfolding in front of me. He stopped himself before inflicting pain across my face, as he violently ripped my belongs from my possession & tossed them on the side of the freeway. He called me a stupid, fucking bitch while physically pushing me out of his $100 thousand dollar sports car. ▪️As we were entering the 8West on Saturday, January 11th, I became a victim of domestic violence.▪️My life quickly changed; I will never be the same woman again.▪️His customized license plates spells out ‘EN2PNER’, when it should read ‘MONSTER’. A so-called ‘man’ who ran away from the family abuse, yet chose to carry & expose the evil trait along with him. A sad, lonely boy who buried his pain in financial success. A selfish, evil coward who uses money as a tool to inflict mental & physical pain on others. A disturbing, lonely human who finds pleasure & regularity in degrading people. An entitled, pathetic soul who finds joy & egotistical power by putting others down. A narcissistic, out of control, monster who took my life into his hands own hands. A cowardly poor excuse for a man with a punctured ego & burnt heart. A perfect example of a broken person with nothing but objects to fill his empty soul.▪️As quickly as my tears came rushing in, a restraining order was put into motion. I’ll never forget the look of two male police officers who cradled me in security & promised to be by my side during this tragic situation. Calling the on-duty California state judge at 11pm to legalize a restraining order, not only filled my heart with pure sadness & indescribable shame, it left me questioning, ‘How did I let this happen to me?’ The feeling of embarrassment, & emptiness surrounds my soul as I struggle to wrap my head around this. Finding acceptance will be the beginning to an end. I have allowed myself to build strength & determination. Promised myself to not let this situation to go unspoken, to be buried nor ignored. Staying silent only gives our offenders the power. To be a survivor of DV, we must be brave, stay strong, & be true to ourselves, my friends x

-E

Good tidings to you, my friends x

When did the holidays become labeled with so much stress?
Why the pushing and shoving during the shopping madness?
Where is the jolly we all sing and cheer for?
How about the absent Christmas lights and missing wreaths on front doors?
Has the purpose of the holidays gone a stray?
Have we forgotten the true reason we celebrate?
It’s not about the food or gifts piled under the Christmas tree,
It’s about spending real quality time with your family.
Tune into your inner child and wear a onesie for a day,
Sing while lighting the menorah or wait up for Santa and his sleigh.
Focus on the joy of traditions; look through a different lens,
May your holidays bring you good tidings and miracles, my friends x

-E

Tomorrow is never promised, my friends x

It’s safe to say I’m struggling, majorly struggling with finding acceptance. It’s almost like I’m living in a haze, slow thinking; if any thinking at all. I’m just going through the daily motions not even truly putting in effort without recognition. My mind’s fighting it’s self to think, if that makes any sense at all.
I often feel trapped indoors, especially when my mind is stuck reverting back to the heart-breaking fact I won’t allow myself to accept into existence.
“He’s gone babe”; the text message that triggered my hazy thinking and internal numbness. I felt my heart shatter into trillions of pieces and crash into the pit of my stomach.
How are YOU gone? It doesn’t feel real.
I need the stillness of a quiet place, Mother Nature and meditation to gain clarity before finding my path to acceptance and gratitude. [*deep breath]
As I publicly soar through this painful journey of losing who was once the love of my life, I ask you to be kind, forgiving, and gentle. To Live with honesty, courage and love for tomorrow is never promised, my friends x

-E

Rest easy, my angels x

Whenever I mention that my best friend died eight years ago, I feel the tone of the room change. I can tell that the person I’m talking with wants to ask questions, but really doesn’t know what to say. First allow me to begin by saying Steve was my angel, my person who saved my soul after losing my best friend, Matt to heroin two years prior.
Steve & I become best friends while working in a gym downtown Chicago. When I moved to San Diego, we stayed in touch almost every day. I loved him, I still do. I thought he’d be here every minute of every day. I was clearly mistaken. July 2010, I found myself bedside next to a frail man dressed in a perfectly ironed white hospital gown. Steve’s eyes filled up with tears as he gestured the nurse to exit the room. She peels off her plastic gloves and body suit, pulls down her face mask and says she’s right outside if we need anything.
I was rather taken back. The nurse was covered head to toe in what looked like upscale garbage bags while perfectly placing everything in hazardous labeled trash cans. As she shut the door behind her, I ask him to look at me. He looked sad & scared to tell me heartbreaking truth that he has been battling the HIV virus for over 10 years. His mind & body are ready to surrender as the AIDS virus is just too powerful. Steve was a middle aged, black, gay man with an incredible soul. He was funny, caring, gorgeous, compassionate, bitchy, honest, meaningful, and filled with so much purpose. I knew he was sick, I didn’t know Steve had AIDS. He was my person, and he was not supposed to leave me already. Before Steve’s soul left his body, he grabbed my hand and thanked me for being his angel, when all along, I TRULY thought he was mine. The universe works in magical ways. Love H A R D & forever, my friends x. Rest easy, my angels x

-E

Pass to the left and sail to the right, my friends x

I remember the first time I saw Snoop Dogg smoking a blunt live on stage at the Roc the Mic concert in 2003. He was puffing, not passing, a fatty-boom-batty with ease because he’s the mother fuckin’ S-N-double-O-P D-O-double-gi-zee, D-O-double-gi-zee, D-O-double-gi-zee! The envy was real, people, for fucking real!
Using a toilet paper roll with a dryer sheet attached to the end or absurd amounts of air freshener hoping to disguise the soothing, flavorful aroma of marijuana fell second on the important list. Getting high was first on the agenda! Stuffing small bags of marijuana in cigarette packs or in our under garments just to get through security took loads of preparation and strategy; yet more than half of every attendee at every show came quite prepared. Marijuana + live music = heaven on earth. I repeat, straight heaven on earth!
I’m not a total stoner, just a lover of the glorious greens. I studied & continue to study it, too. The connection between music and cannabis goes beyond the experience itself. Research shows that cannabis and music possess some of the same therapeutic qualities such as pain relief, reduced anxiety, and a better connection with one’s surroundings. Which makes total sense, I can confidently say, ‘a friend with weed, is a friend indeed’! Cannabis and music are both described to relieve pain, improve community connection, foster intimacy, reduce stress and improve positive communication habits, not to mention the sharing of Spotify playlists!
Cannabis is capable of some amazing things, its ability to improve our musical experiences is only ONE of them. No matter the genre you’re into, chance are, it’ll be a hell of lot cooler with some weeeeeeed, man.
Be high on life, not just the kind buds, and always remember to pass the left and sail to the right, my friends x

-E