As I'll be heading back to Bermuda in a couple of weeks for about half of the summer I decided to experience a little LA Culture at Fiesta Hermosa. I stumbled on it semi-accidentally because I was in the mood for chicken and waffles and googled somewhere near my place for it. I found Boogaloo's a Cajun/New Orleans style restaurant and hoped they might have similar food. Unbelievably, I managed to find parking right at the entrance to the fiesta and went for a hefty hangover breakkie along with the necessary bloody mary. However, I was a bit disappointed with the food and then even more annoyed as when I walked around Fiesta Hermosa there were loads of more delicious smelling food stands at a fraction of the price.
In the beer garden there was a band playing, but the most entertaining was the older women dancing to the band. I just had to share pictures of them, because their outfits were outrageously hilarious. The one with the pink top was killing me with her early 90s throwback and the hat on the other woman was fantastic. Her dancing partner also knew how to get down.
And as the band playing was a sort of blues/soul/jazz band and today is the birthday of T-Bone Walker (1910) and Gladys Knight (1944) I'll share Walker's 'Street Walking Woman'
It’s 24 days into 2018 and I’m only now sharing my new year’s resolutions. I am, however, giving myself a pass because mine aren’t just for one year, they’re for 26. Since university, I haven’t planned my life more than a few months ahead. I thought I was a free spirit, but I now believe it was indicative of the opposite – one caged by fear. One that’s scared to plan and be disappointed; terrified to make goals, in case I miss the goalposts. The letter A is for... x While I had an incredible past year of achievements, I experienced something akin to daily stress fractures on my brain, which created fissures and cracks in my mind triggering mania and depression in rapid cycles. Now, I have chosen to unlock the cage: I’m committing myself fully to my creative endeavours all while travelling wherever this wild spirit finds itself drawn to, because that spirit was slowly dying. I was not in a good way. Now, here I am with the vastness of life stretched out before me. These e
I have been in hiding. I spent years on this blog revealing my truth, but then I became trapped. I somehow began to believe that I couldn’t share my reality anymore and that belief imprisoned me. It imprisoned me at a time when my mind had become a madman and was living to torture me. Haunted by the continuous splatter of sounds that were crunched, smashed, thrown together and weaved with a poisonous thread; a ricochet of memories, feelings, thoughts and voices. A downright cacophony of crazy. Photo: Nicola Muirhead So, I shared. Six weeks ago, I took to social media and finally expressed how the last 18 months of my life had truly been in a post called “The Street Fight”: “It’s been several months since I’ve posted. In the mental health narrative, we love stories of rebirth, renewal and redemption. We watch the phoenix burn and we are inspired when we see that phoenix rise from the ashes, but we rarely bear witness to what happens in between. Brene Brown calls
'Hidden Damage' Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack, a crack in everything That's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen Kintsugi ("golden joinery" or "golden repair") is the Japanese art form of repairing broken pottery with gold. It treats the breakage and repair of the item as part of its history, its journey, its existence. Rather than hiding the damage, it brightly illuminates the repair, inviting the world to see its improved beauty. Just like pottery, we humans can crack, splinter, break, shatter. These knocks remain part of our being and, whilst a brave face might create a temporary disguise, nobody can hide forever. At least I couldn't. To heal, I found I had to expose. Kintsugi treats the crack as merely an event in the life of the object, not a reason to end it. Kintsugi knows that something is more beautiful for having been broken. As someone who considers them
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