Morning Meditation


It’s that first sip of coffee in the morning. It’s the lovely loft I live in….it’s nothing fancy but it has a great view, is comfortable, super well lit and like a tree house for me. I am inspired and happy and it is truly home. Even the colors simple as they may be in here give me warmth and inspiration. The storms are amazing when they surround me. It’s a walk hand in hand during sunset on the beach. It’s browsing through antique shops and bookstores on a weekend afternoon. It’s a good meal that I was able to make myself. It’s the simple things. #MorningMeditation #MorningCoffee #inspiration #Simplethings #Life

An oldie hidden in the drafts.

Better Me. Balance in the scales.


#BetterMe As I have said that one should not bury themselves against the negativism of the world, there is also a balance in a person’s life to make. There are people, individuals, who create turmoil to thrive. Those who can “never get it together” no matter how much help in the world they have had. Those who gossip behind your back but are friends and even family to your face. There are those people who leave you feeling purely drained of all energy. All the time. Those who take take take but not give and if they give it comes with strings or mean words or some type of hurt to follow.

In the balance of life there is not burying your head in the sand to what goes on around you. But there is also the other side of the scale, by not welcoming negativity into your door. If you feel totally drained of relationships all the time…move on. Love, friend, or even family relationships. Work relationships. Sometimes you can adjust these with a good honest talk. Or spending less and less time responding. Everytime the conversation veers negative, veer it to the positive.

Now, sometimes a friend is in a bad time of their lives and that can be emotionally draining…don’t cut that off though….be a good friend. Know the difference between negative drains and just bad times that can be draining for a moment. There should always be some positive in any relationship. And some feeding to the soul.

A coffee with a friend should often leave you feeing refreshed rather than emptied of all energy. There are moments for all things but if everytime that coffee leaves you with a bad taste in your mouth or wishing you hadn’t….maybe you should take some time to evaluate that friendship.

Four States and Seven Days.


Peggy J Davenport
I had to run up to the office and came back after having coffee with the lady up there (this is the south, you don’t run in and rush out- you sit and have a chat and a coffee). When I come back he has the bed made (very important to me) my coffee made, the pets cared for and has George hanging outside with him while he is fiddling with the jeep. My heart is warmed.
We are sunburned, tired, have been to every boat dock in four states on the coast just in the last week, six beyond that so far, and more in the coming near future, and often in the bays. We have had long days and walked a million miles under the beating hot southern sun in July. Boat docks, btw, are like walking the damn desert with all their glare from white boats to hot decks both wood and cement and glistening water. The morning may at times begin overcast and cloudy and soft on you but the sun will make up for it with a vengeance when she does decide to wake up. Between walking and standing on hard ground a lot and a lot of driving and a lot of boat time and heat and sun our bones are tired and long days. We feel 80 in our 30-something bodies by the end of the day. But we hold hands and smile and say to each other “I am happy” with a satisfied smile.
I am becoming quite the expert (nowhere near it) on sport fishing boats and yachts and Joe, in the falling into it, in the moment, the people who love to show off their boat and a good sailing time and because…boat people are the most welcoming, is learning sailboats, quite by accident. Though we are in search currently of the sport fishing boat/yacht for live aboard and south islands fun, moving from RV to water, the sailboat is a future project dream of mine and where my expertise lies, so we are both learning quite a bit about the other, we call these his project and my project. I loved the old seaman who whispered to me “once he gets used to understanding sailing he will be much more comfortable with it and fall in love and you will have no problem with him on them” Sailing people get me. Joe worries about me alone…out there, the times that he will be away.
We are looking in the lines of the Hatteras 50 (a yacht would be nice but harder to find especially in price range and a sports fishing is actually live aboard super nice and bigger than our RV now) but open to good and bad, project redo and pretty well done and other boat names depending, but in the idea of. Being so open means more possibilities to look at. This will take us months. I only wish I could combine the interior of the Viking with the exterior of the Hatteras and I think my favorite boat would be born. This is about as far as my knowledge for them goes so far. Though listening to the engine talk…I somewhere in my dreams might be able to draw a very good diagram of them now.
We have had gelato slash book shops open for us on a day it was closed completely for the entire day with a lovely man in long graying dreadlocks and inviting smile waving us in and we realized it was closed and began to walk on. Who gave us samples and then free gelato to go, though we ate it up while conversation began and took awhile before an end. They have the right idea with their Old Fashioned gelato, based off of one of two of my favorite drinks, though I do believe it might be more my winter drink while the Pimm’s Cup is my summer. We found and discovered Indie bookshops slash coffeeshops with grand displays of southern authors (the Mississippi book festival is next month) Pass Christian Books and Cat Island Coffeehouse and and I hear the tongue of many when they say the name of their town like silk falling off a woman’s shoulders. I drink up the accents and speech of some, of many, of all, from the harshest to the most delicate, and tuck it away for my own book writing. I find that that this is a place where Jesmyn Ward and many like her have come to read and been supported and where I am invited to come soon. I buy the last two of her books I have yet to read. (I have so far read and LOVE Sing, Unburied, Sing: A Novel and Where the Line Bleeds: A Novel.
so I picked up, The Fire This Time: A New Generation Speaks about Race and her memoir, Men We Reaped: A Memoir And I still have her other book I will soon get,Salvage the Bones: A Novel. Not only because she is long an author on my list, an amazing author to read, btw, but also because I am in my Deep South Five writing project currently and currently reading books by authors and in the setting of New Orleans and of the deep south, as well as the movies I am currently watching.
I learn that the gelato shop owner is the same as the bookstore/coffeeshop owner and we discuss literary south, authors, readings, book events, and the scene. That they have no shortage of literary events and readings and authors and are half a year booked in advance and busy, they do not give up and lay dormant like one indie bookshops I met did and who had saddened me greatly at their defeat of a literary scene only a few cities and the same state down. Joe has an understanding here that I have listened to talk of boat engines enough to not rush us to an end.
We stumbled into an antique shop in the middle of the beautiful (and one of my newest favorite places) Mobile Alabama. Historic buildings…this one in particular has seen better days. I am more saddened while traveling through New Orleans and Mobile and other like smaller places from Miami/Hollywood Florida to Texas how little Galveston Island actually does put the effort in to preserve what should be even easier. I am more saddened that the Hughes building there is no more. And then here I see so many…so many and never going away and so much harder work put in and so much more they have gone through in hurricane and storm and flood and yet standing so gallantly. And as much as I love the island and thought once they did well I see how little is really there, left, and standing and how flat the peoples efforts really are and yet once had so much more potential but so much of it is already lost…gone. I even see so many other states with so much preservation effort put into the nature side of it and know that there is about one lone woman who works so hard to do all that Galveston offers in that aspect. Without her they don’t care and even with her the city itself is one of her main enemies and with whom she battles against their destruction. I see how other places take care of their tree’s…from San Antonio to Florida and I know another woman who places her work there but when you leave the island you find that you have missed trees, and funny enough, it is so far the least of the boating community for which we both love and felt we were missing. I am not done there with dreams I have built but I am glad I am broadening these horizons. I honestly don’t know if there will be enough left for me when I come back, able to put in myself. For those who put in…keep it up, you are the islands saving grace. For the city, I ask you to visit San Antonio, New Orleans, Mobile, Alabama and Pass Christian, Mississippi, Hollywood, Florida and Miami and a few conservation and state parks along the way and all in between and too many to count for both city/town and nature conservations and economy and …life, for a few suggestions of how to do better. Funny enough for resources you have much more at hand than some of these do.
In Backflash Antique in Mobile Alabama only a short few blocks away from what is now the Malaga Inn that was in the 1940 census the address of my great grandparents and two of their four daughters, one of which was my grandmother, aged 10, I discover the perfect camera bag (thanks to Joe’s good eye) that I have been in search of for months. And I hear the most beautiful name I have ever heard…Charlana, added to a combination with a last of exactly the kind of name amazing people are born with, Charlana Quiovers. And a gentleman there, meek and quiet and a love for antique and history who was amazing at tour guiding us through to exactly what we would like to see. He got us immediately. We aren’t the typical RV’ers. We don’t do it for the BBQing and pools. We do it for the exploring, the history, the learning of the people, the architecture, the discoveries, the antiques and art and literary and music and the food…oh…the food. We exhaust ourselves with the miles we put our feet to in walking all around a town or city, and when in the right place and time, the mountains and hills of the nature a place has to offer, and now even, by boat more often, the swamps with a rest upon our feet but a sharpness for our safety, and our senses. Birds and nature and animals and trees upon the cool waters in the warm air underneath the shade of these grand ancient moss laden trees. But the walking…It is the only way to stop for hours on end in an afternoon and have perfect conversations with perfect strangers. And at times be invited upon a boat for the next several hours and taken out into the open waters, sails unfurled. If you never hear from us again, we likely died happy.
In seven days and four states I haven’t taken one picture. I have simply enjoyed it all. Good thing my storytelling is in words…..more coming on all of that. Within the binds of a book and a story of a character.

The Smooth Stuff.

Trying out this newbie.


Reason: Trying something new and not happy with things I’ve been using.

What I like about it already:
* I can buy it at Target and not do the on-line thing. I am not big on shopping
on-line but also in travel it’s not the most convenient. Target is nation-wide
so pretty accessible.
* I like the recyclable packaging This has been a thing for me more and more,
trying to reduce my waste altogether, or at least use recyclable materials. I
just wish it went a step further but perhaps soon and I will write to them
about it. Any tips of shaving and being friendly to my environment please
feel free to share in the comments. And sorry, I can’t stand being unshaven
so that is not an option. *The pretty colors.

What I already do not like about Harry’s Razor:
* That it is sold and geared toward men without a women’s option or even a women’s sales pitch. At Target it was not in the women’s aisle. Women use mens razors all the time (and visa versa, I have almost always used mens and never satisfied every time I try a women’s 50% less than with any mans razor). Women make up a HUGE portion of sales, with razor sales in Gillette alone making up $14B…think about that. But households with women are also the choices of women who do the majority of the family and house hold shopping. So for many men, they aren’t the ones choosing, even if using. So #1 to boost sales, pitch to both men and women…or take the sex out of the sales pitch altogether is even better. Because there really is nothing stopping a woman from using this razor otherwise. #2. To not lose sales and to ever hope to catch up to Gillette or other companies, take the above advice.

I’ll have more after I open the box and test it out. I am not being paid by either product in this photo, or anyone else….I just like to talk shop. (I am a writer, so therefor I am also never opposed to being paid.) #harrysrazors#Razors #Shaving #Grooming #Products #menandwomen #Gillette#Target #Beauty #Style #Salesandmarketing #Marketing#Recyclablepackaging #Harrys #Writer #WriterforHire

A few #reviews for you. By #men , since this #product is #ForMen ….even though as a #woman I just #bought it for not only myself (and I have more to #shave than a #man , thus creating more #sales ) but I bought one for my #male #partner, too. Making the choice of #purchase in our #household.

Sharpologist Review
While DSC gets their razors from Dorco, Harry’s went a different route and bought a $100 million German razor blade factory called Feintechnik to control the quality of production. And last summer they raised more than $75 million in funding, so it’s easy to say they’re in for the long-haul battle of taking on Gillette’s $7.9 billion in sales. Yep, that’s billions with a “B.”

$14 Billion? The U.S. holds somewhere around 400 million, world population about 7 ad a half billion. And many of those in counties not buying razors at all.

And that doesn’t count the non-Gillette razor count!

The Gadgeteer Review

Observer Review

Morning Meditation


I was doing a piece on color and the brain and thought back to what colors have meant to me in my life journey.

My absolute favorite color has always been green. I loved the color of new life and spring. When the brown and bare woods suddenly flourished and the fields of grass waves from a dull winter brown to a vibrant alive green.

After my divorce I suddenly was attracted and pulled to the color orange so strongly it would take my breath away. I had previously not only wasn’t fond of orange but had even hated the color other than when in a sunset. I began finding my eye seeking the color out however, or coming across it as if by accident. Suddenly it was everywhere and I wanted to be where it was.

The day that I went to see a loft for rent which had an orange front door, however, I chose to look into why a color I had once disliked was now something I couldn’t get enough of. It turns out that the color orange…not green…is the color of new beginnings. A new start, more than green, of new life not that of birth. Fitting.

Ever since then I listen to what color has started pulling me toward it since.

Morning Meditation.


I was talking to my sister yesterday about hair and makeup and how much our faces and styles have changed in our 30+ years, even the texture of our hair. We both enjoyed sharing old photos and comparing and searching for makeup and hair style ideas.

But the thing is…I can’t compare to a model or an actress for what kind of hair style I want and I certainly can’t compare to my younger self. I am not her. And I don’t wish to be. She was a young woman who has walked a pretty fascinating road and never would I take back a single of those steps, but I do believe in forward steps.

My hair may no longer be baby fine or golden but I have earned every gray hair and the darker suits me better….I’ve walked through many shadows since the days of nearly white halo like hair. The fine lines that may appear, the harder shape of my face….the older look is not age so much as world lived wisdom. Experience.
The width of my hips is womanhood that I carry proudly. My feet rarely wear heels because they’ve walked a million miles by now. My hands aren’t as soft because they know good work. My eye’s aren’t as naive because they’ve learned many lessons…the hard way.

The very few stretch marks I have remind me not that I can no longer have a child, nor of my loss, but of my experience at how strong a mothers love comes roaring like a lion in a very instant moment. The circles under my eye’s aren’t to be covered up because they are a sign of my tiredness, my tears and my heartache….but heartbreak is a sign that I have loved. I cherish that.

My nails are kept short because I have spent many days brushing the coats glossy of a horse and today I spend them typing not only stories…but memories and life and future. The callous on my feet are signs of a barefoot life and this is good for I have felt the softest of carpets underneath my feet, the hardness of stones upon mountains, the waters of rivers, the sands of many beaches and of every ocean coast, the tickling grass of summer and a closeness of Mother Earth herself.

My ears ring in constant and I have a loss of hearing in my age but I have listened to many musics of many tongue and creative mind. My eye’s are weak and without my glasses my fingers must creep and see for me but I have rested them upon years of fireworks in the night sky, stars in the blackest of country sky, sunsets from mountain tops and ocean side and have many memory of them in my mind.

I enjoy looking into the face of the young girl I once was, but never do I regret the one that looks back at me from a mirror every day now.

#MorningMeditation #MorningPondering #MorningCoffee #Thoughts #Womanhood #Age #Aging #Woman #IAmWoman

Wake up!


Ok, real adulting question for my friends here; I was once and raised as an early to bed early to rise person. Natural and without an alarm even. The past going on three years I have been very dependent on my alarm, but now working for myself (even with my own strict schedule) I have found it harder to wake early at all. And I am not just a little extra sleeping in. I am taking like a twelve hours sleep. My big problem is that back in the age of my 20’s I could also manage to stay up late and still wake up early…those days…ahhh memories.

Now I find myself wide awake very late but I also don’t feel that I get my best work done then, at all. So I feel it is closer to wasted time (other than the reading that I end up doing.)
I don’t like the feeling of waking up “half way through the day” at all, and set a lot of alarms to have to walk through, but I zombie sleep turning them off and head right back to bed (now that the cold weather is here REALLY doesn’t help staying out of my nice comfy bed.)

Working for myself, I try and shift my days schedule to fit from hour I woke to hour I sleep regardless but again sometimes the productive doens’t happen that way either, and my job needs the creative and the productive. This also began to be a problem before working for myself so it’s not only the work for myself thing I need more sleep but then feel that “too much sleep” feel. I have more and more trouble waking early.

Things I’ve tried:
*Coffee prepared and ready to go.
*No coffee and a lot of water and also juicing. Not being dependent on caffeine.
*Alarms everywhere to walk to and even move stuff around for basically booby trap myself to think in my zombie walk.
*More written plans of action than I can count
*Music of all types.
*Wake at 4, wake at 5, wake at 6, wake right at dawn, wake when the sun is up, sleep with the curtains open to wake with the sun and not in a dark room. No tv, no computer, hours prior to bed. Name it, I’ve done it. Also super healthy and health reasons ruled out.

So to other adulting people; tricks? Tips? Real you could hold a gun to my head and I would still just turn around ad go back to bed moments in your own life?

Wake up! Why don’t you put on a little makeup?!

Sunday Morning Meditation.


My Sundays are a day of rest. Pure and simple. I might go sailing with friends or to a backyard gathering around a fire but regardless I don’t stress. I take it easy and I enjoy. Somewhere in there is usually a nap as well. No matter where I am. On a blanket spread across the grass of a friends backyard (Somehow with a toddler or two around me) or the bow of a sailboat, the waves lapping right at my head, the sway, the warmth of the sun. The poolside with my book in my lap or on the beach with a book tan across my chest and stomach. Everyone needs that day to just stop. Even in entertaining make it easy and relaxing. Fill the cooler, put out a spread that didn’t take hours to cook and prepare but just looks like it did and let conversation happen, sit back with a cool drink in hand, feet bare in the grass. Maybe Sunday is spent with books and tea if raining…some of the best are. Or old movie marathons. Monday comes the next day, the turn of the page, and plenty to do, cross off lists and a lot of busyness we’ve become accustomed to. The week behind me has been filled, with many coffee conversations, many words typed, so much reading and research done my eye’s just might fall out, my brain is frozen. The high heels have been worn and the miles run. Sunday…all of that gets put aside and a deep breath so that I may be ready to say hello to Monday. To do it all again. I love the Do It All Again, it feeds me in it’s own way. But there are meals not to be skipped. #MorningMeditation #MorningPondering #MorningThoughts #morningcoffee #Mondays #Sundays #BeingBusy #RelaxandRead #NourishTheSoul

Morning Meditation


This morning I began with one. One simple thing. After being up late last night working, this morning called not yet for To Do Lists or noise or music. This morning I wake to one focus. One at a time. Soothing ease into the day. I stretched and balanced in yoga. I listened to my breath. I listened to my tea kettle whistle. I took the time to smell the coffee as I poured hot water into my French press. I rinsed my hair in the sink underneath cold cold water but felt that soothing feeling of when I was a child in summer after the pool and my grandmother would lay me on the counter, head to the sink, and wash my ultra white threads of hair of all chlorine, always finishing with that cold cold soothing water. I sipped my first sip of coffee and relished, slowly, the flavors. One step. One at a time. I am not rushing into this day just yet. First, I am one with it. #MorningMeditation #MorningCoffee #OneThought #SlowDown #Life

I have to build a wall so Trump can’t come grab my pussy.


Because we needed this conversation, yes. But kudo’s to to these men, no. You are an idiot. It was “her fault. She didn’t stop it. Where did she draw her boundaries.” This is why girls don’t know how to handle this shit when it does happen. And when we speak too soon we are lying. If we wait it’s about why we waited. Like the women with Cosby…for fucks good lord people…he was America’s FAMILY MAN, it was also the time and day there were zero laws protecting such things. Nobody would believe them. So on and so forth. I guarantee you out of 50 women, someone told someone who told them not to tell anyone. We know we aren’t safe. We know we will be blamed. This is how YOU raise us when you make excuses for this shit. I carry my gun or knife, currently in the wild, not because of the boars and animals which to fear…but because of the men I might come across!

I guess the same can be said for abusive relationships. Those boundaries weren’t drawn!
The same can be said for the four year old molested by her father/brother/uncles. She allowed it to happen!
I guess the same is said for every woman who ever was sexually harassed in a job. It was her fault!
For every woman raped after going to a bar or party. She asked for it!
For every woman period. She shouldn’t have worn that! Been there! Put herself in that situation! Screamed! Did she yell NO ? Enough? Loud enough? Did he hear it? But did he understand it?!

Dealing with sexual harassment as a young woman has been HARD!
I wasn’t raised knowing how to. In fact I was raised that attention from men was what you wanted! Even from men from whom you didn’t want. OMG you’ve no idea!

I was once told to keep my job I’d have to give a blow job. I DID walk out. But I stood there for several minutes thinking “Did I hear that right? And is he going to laugh because this is a joke right?” To which even still…a joke was wrong, and harassment…yet likely had he ‘laughed for the joke’ I might have laughed it off and kept my job…because what else do you do? That is how women are often raised, taught, and expected to handle these things. And on top of it we are told it’s “locker room”, “Guy talk”, “normal and ok and this is how all guys are.” And now even that you would rather elect a President who admits to it! Is on tape of it! In court for CHILD RAPE. Fucking dumb asses. How are women supposed to “stop it” or “Draw boundaries” in that kind of fucked up universe?

The first time I was ever sent a ‘dick pic’ (by email, not cellphone) I laughed it off as “this is what guys do” because I didn’t even know that NO, it wasn’t what guys do! It wasn’t until my 30’s when receiving a dick pic that I even THOUGHT to respond with “Fuck off. Delete my number asshole” and I deleted and blocked them. Even still, I found myself excusing ‘friends’ at times for ‘maybe being drunk.’ Because that is what I am taught to do.

Years ago women might have been slut shamed or even ‘protected’ and told to not sleep around, ‘keep your legs together’, but it hasn’t been until today that women have begun teaching their daughters “kick them in the groin when they grab you, don’t take that shit. You don’t have to sleep with every guy who wants to sleep with you! Don’t take that! Don’t put up with that! Don’t allow that! Not all mens attention is needed, wanted, or should be invited!” Hell, I sure as hell wasn’t taught that!

Women raised in abusive households are more likely to be abused. Boys raised in them more likely to abuse. Much is learned by example. So if we weren’t led by good example (Trump, Trump generation #3 now) we have to figure it out for ourselves. And some people will find that they have morals and don’t beat up their wives or sexually grab pussies when they want! And some women will learn to tell a man to go to hell…but sometimes they won’t until they themselves become a strong and well learned in life woman! It’s best described as a light bulb that goes off one day. Much for me was from surrounding myself over time with strong women and a LOT of reading that woke me up to how I could be, not how I had to be. I really had to find and stumble upon my own examples of strong women. So when I hear someone blaming some young college girl I especially will fuck you up because I remember how young and vulnerable and badly influenced I was then and dear God I am still learning! Apparently so is America!

I remember how easy it was the first time my husband hit me to seriously think “that didn’t just happen” and again and again make excuses, talk it off, blame myself…before ELEVEN months later I finally figured to stand up for myself and draw my boundary. I actually drew one a couple of months prior. Set my fence. Told him NO. Then he crossed it again and so I left then…no more excuses. But I had to spend MONTHS convincing myself to do so. Some of it for me was even having to then admit I’d gotten into such a thing. And I thought from a set example that I “Would never be that woman” because I knew what it was but rather I became very much so because it was what was taught and for many more years than I’d yet had to unteach myself.

I’ve had two bosses tell me I’d have to give sexual acts to keep my job. I’ve been told in the modeling industry that’s the game. I’ve been shown porn on a computer as I walked into a room (with horses) because “Hey aren’t you into horses?” I, BTW, was a virgin then. I was a quiet little mouse of a girl. I weighed 98 fucking pounds. I was new in a city and in a job and to these people. I had no clue how to respond…so I laughed. They laughed. We all laughed. I didn’t yet know what a boundary was! I didn’t know I could voice an opinion! Hell, I’m not even sure I knew what that opinion was. I just know the feeling I walked away with that made me want to take a shower. I didn’t know that was wrong.
I had another boss speak another language talking about sexual acts with me to other men…and then tell me what he was saying wasn’t that at all even though their laughter and gross smiles creeped me out. One man told me what was said. But I needed a job. What was I supposed to do? I had not been taught about jobs and money well at all. I was afraid to let go of what I had.
This does not go into the many approached in bars, on the streets, even chased down a block being yelled after, cars pulled up, creepy landlords who broke into my house, men who physically tried (and did get the knee), texts, phone calls and men jumping out of bushes. The men in bars, buses, work, wherever who ‘accidentally rubbed their groin against my butt.’ The old gay male boss who randomly told me he took his 16 yr old nieces virginity because she ‘asked him to.’ I can’t even tell you all of them.

I’ve said Fuck Off! I was usually then circled by more of their friends in a creepy dark parking lot. I was told by a boss to not be so sensitive when I reported it…finally…after many times. I was told I was lying and that the guy was “their best client.”

My boundary is drawn. It doesn’t have a sign on the fence post that says “Drunk losers come and hit on me, leer at me, and tell me dirty things. “My dating profile never said “Please send me a picture of your little not very entertaining what am I supposed to do with that? dick.”
My ass did not get in your way.
My boobs sure as hell aren’t big enough to get in your way “accidentally.”
My closed bathroom door in a cabin at a party while changing out of my swimsuit did not mean Come On In!
My crotch did not invite your hand to it!

My boundaries are drawn. I did not need a sign around my neck to tell you this.

I can like an orgasm. Read 50 shades of grey. Date. And even flirt without having to tell you not to cross a line. YOU/THEY should control themselves…not that I should be who draws a boundary.

But I guess in your world, it’s not men like Trump who are the problem, but a woman who “asked for it.” When Trump as President comes and “takes your pussy” just remember that YOU ELECTED him knowing that this was his stance ON YOUR PUSSY and therefor you did not DRAW YOUR BOUNDARIES (please hear my sarcasm through these because, I, am not a dumb shit. #StopSexualAssault #StopRape #StopToleratingRape

Guess I will have to take up much more of a shoot now, ask questions later, stance and in court tell the judge to fuck off because I was drawing my goddamned boundaries, saying NO loud enough the fucker UNDERSTOOD. It’s not my fault he didn’t intend rape, or even full on touch me sexual assault…but maybe just the sexual harassment…but how was I supposed to know how far he would push HIS boundary before I set up mine? Is it my fault he didn’t SEE my boundary that said “Don’t be an asshole?” Am I to blame because there isn’t a fence built around me? Maybe I just shouldn’t go n public.

And how can I DARE be appalled at a person like Trump or call myself a Feminist because I went to a Modanna concert?

Teaching consent.

How a man should be.

The Makings Of A Whore.

Stolen Halo.

What I Was Doing When I was Called a Slut.

The people to call me a slut to my face. My mother the 1st time. My boss. My ex-husband. Those are the only time’s I’ve heard this word. Now cunt…heard that a lot more.

How a young girl is approached. What to do?

How do we reply?

When the table turns.

Are young girls supposed to have boundaries with their fathers?

The America of Brock Turner.

It was what she was wearing.

Blaming the Victim. Facts. Rape Culture.

The America of Rape.


The America of Trump Rape Culture.

“Kudos to Donald Trump for raising the conversation. Regardless of the election results this year, he is the reason we are all talking about this.” A quote I read today in regards to Anti-Hillary and pro-Trump and his sexual assault.
So…Kudo’s to Brock Turner for the rape conversation America had this year?