uncharted territory.

seems that everything i do these days is brand-new. the old is gone. like a burned down forest that has recovered from another traumatic undoing; new Life makes her home in the ashes.

it’s been too long since i’ve written because i’ve been cheating on the words with the paint. music and color colliding in ways i can’t make the words seem to do. comfort to my artist soul; medicine to my tender heart.

there’s been a physical move into a whole new space. an artist’s loft with a bedroom, bath, and kitchen. a pink velvet couch. windows that let the Light flood in. Dad’s bureau right next to the antique heirloom Princess bed procured by my relentlessly entrepreneurial Grandmother Thrasher, who was killed by a drunk driver before i was born.

we all have stories, y’all.

but oh: the paint. like a longlost Lover that my heart has never gotten over. the paint.

. . .

i celebrated my emancipation from being the Mom of a kid this past weekend. now. i am the Mom of two adults. traded the hard stuff in for the even harder stuff.

c’est la vie.

but those two magnificent humans i used to call bears or beans or any other number of embarrassing coloquialisms— okay, you’re right, i still do— are incredible. flawed. imperfect. brilliant. ever aware of their weaknesses. ever knowing that there is a benevolent Source of Life + rest + abundance when they seek. learning how to seek endlessly. learning how to enjoy themselves as they seek.

. . .

i didn’t follow the rules in raising them, you know. i went rogue as a child— and could never bring myself back into line with the terribly boring predictability of status quo.

like a jar whose lid just never screwed on tight because the grooves were misaligned— just too groovy for my own good.

ha.

autonomy is the goal for raising a strong generation. yet modern society tries to blend everyone into an ambiguous blob of “all in this together.” we’re encouraged to remove that which makes us so uniquely individual to assimilate our lives into pop culture. it is bad to be good. it is popular to be bad. forget your moral compass. here. watch this mind-control propaganda + take your pills.

dammit.

i’ve digressed into an Orwellian alarm system again.

howdy, y’all. (tips pink cowgirl hat; curtsies.)

. . .

i think the curious thing about art and writing and creating “new” content— new paintings, new media— is that it’s simply the reimagining + retelling of the same Message— in different shapes + shades + consonants.

it’s not the art that delivers— but the willful determination of the Artist’s heart to continue to share The Message with her audience.

which be:

> you were Created for Love. now act like it.

existential dread is okay. but c’mon, already. such lack of vitality is sooo not becoming any humanbeing past the age of awareness. not to mention boring af.

effervescence is where it’s at.

“but, but, but. you don’t know how hard my Life has been,” the angst-ridden victim shouts out from the crowd.

me— “well, shitfire, you’re right. i don’t know about your harrowingly wild adventure of a Life. sit for a spell and tell me all about it while i mix up this potion of ’everyone has pain + everyone has pleasure’ for you to drink when you’re feeling all self-centered and unseen.”

public service announcement— if you do not like your Life, change it. no one wants to hear you complain. it’s annoying.

. . .

i’m sorry. i know that stung. but the Truth will set you free.

. . .

“but, but, but. change is scary.”

me— “bullshit. bad excuse. misconduct! I OBJECT!!! you know what’s scary?! staying stuck in a Life you hate, thinking thoughts that make you your own worst enemy, breeding hate + contempt for the world around you + those vile humanbeings you occasionally encounter who actually have the audacity to Live the Life they Love / Love the Life they Live. your excuses smell like bad, dung breath. clean up your mouth, my Friend.”

. . .

be radical. be free. speak boldly. wrap words around your feelings and set them loose on paper. go for a long walk. take a nap. drink a glass of icewater. do your chores. clean up your messes. stop blaming others. become obnoxiously happy. spread sunshine + sparkles everywhere you go. be loyal. be brave. be unforgettable.

and here’s one last little hint—

if your plans aren’t scaring the pants off of you, you’re -yawn- boring.

> try something new.

. . .

as for me?

i’m gonna keep running towards obstacles + tackling challenges head-first + kissing my enemies on their cheeks. (note: i do have enemies. y’all just don’t know i know.) i’m gonna keep reimagining the shapes + shades + consonants… maybe throw in some extra vowels. i’m gonna keep Living Life like i mean it— all while keeping an open shop. like a lamp turned on + casting Light on The Path for others to see— how to transform your hardened heart in ooey gooey Loveflesh; how to reimagine your crappy Life into a world you can’t wait to greet each day.

same annie. same art. same Message. new space.

are you ready yet, sweet Friend?

. . .

Love you. mean it. <3