Get Your Sh*t Together

Sheesh! I literally have not blogged here in a long time! I know this blog has helped a lot of people over the years- so its time to fire it up again.

Update on me? Well A LOT has changed since my last post! I decided at the ripe age of 38 to go back to school (for a much-needed career change!), moved to Tampa, Florida…and am once again finding my footing in this crazy thing called life.

Truthfully, 2019 has been nothing but a roller coaster. Emotionally and mentally. It’s definitely been a journey of strength. Making a major life change is really not easy. Especially when you are an adult. You would think I would have my shit together by now—but does anyone really have their shit together?

No one does. Frankly, if someone thinks that they have a “perfect” life– they are lying. It may be great—but no one’s life is really perfect.

Let’s face it, we are humans. We are flawed. It still amazes me that we have existed on this planet as long as we have. So why are so many of us afraid to say that “No. I do not have my shit together.”

I also often wonder what it means to actually have your life together? Is it based on your education? Whether you are married with kids? Own a house? What is the actual definition of getting one’s shit together?

A dear close friend who changed my life back in 2002 passed away this year. One thing he always taught me was that we are all always seeking. In fact, he called some of us his “seekers.”

I don’t care how much money you have. I don’t care if you own a house or live in a cheap apartment just trying to get by…

You will never have your shit together…

We are ALL seekers. We are all seeking something from this world that will, even for just a little while, make us believe that we have our lives together.

I am still a rule-breaker, an outsider, a seeker— a little wiser, a little older– but still trying to get my shit together!

As I am sure you are as well!

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Life. Death. Love.

“Nothing can happen more beautiful than death.” – Walt Whitman

It is always hard for me to wrap my mind around why people are so afraid of getting old and afraid of death. After all, it’s going to happen to all of us. I can appreciate the wanting to live a good long life- free of disease. But why try to slow down the aging processimages? Why not accept the inevitable— and actually use it to create a well-lived life?

We started to die the day we were born.

When people first meet me, their initial thoughts are usually that I am a dark and mysterious girl with a morbid fascination. After all,  I make jewelry with vertebrae (human and animal). I paint animal skulls. I post images of death in all its forms. My home is decorated with all things death-related– skulls, skeletons, bones. My life is dedicated to the dead.

I have been fascinated with death since childhood. Being born on November 1st, it’s hard not to fall in love with images of death! My birthdays were always filled with bits and pieces of Halloween and All Souls Day. My work with dead goes back as far as I can remember-even within the realm of imaginary friends in childhood.

As I grew older, I began to realize that my life was destined to be entwined between the realms of the living and the dead.

Am I obsessed with death? No.

Do I venerate death? Yes.

I have never been afraid of the concept of death. I understand why most people are. It’s frightening to think about the unknown


I find death comforting. We are all going to end up there. Death is also the one thing in life that does not discriminate; Death does not care if you are rich, poor, what race you are, where you are from, who your family is, what religion you practice, who you pray to. Death is a bit of coming home after a long journey. For me, death is like a waiting lover. Open arms and ready to dance. Morbid? Not really.

My relationship with death has made me love life because Death is humbling. 

When I work with bones–I find it an honor. To hold something so sacred that ones supported the weight of a living thing is a blessing. When I work on a piece, whether painting on a skull or entwining vertebrae into jewelry, I think of what animal once owned those bones. What type of energy that animal had. Where it lived, what it did. I reflect on the essence of the being.

When I work on human bones- its an even greater honor. I think of the person, who they may have been, what they may have done. When I hold a human bone in my hand, I think of my ancestors– of all our ancestors– those who have walked this earth thousands of years before now. Its a sacred honor to me to hold those human bones in my hand.

Imagine if someone told you you had three days to live. Would you really live? Would you break the rules? Would you take risks? Would you be a kinder person?

This is why I love death. It made me learn to live my life with no regrets. I always reflect on the choices

I made, chances I took…things I have said– and I regret nothing.  I am getting older, I am learning that time goes by fast. Age is inevitable. But I have every intention of living my life my way.

In honoring and understanding death- I have learned to appreciate life. Death has humbled me beyond words. Working with and having human bones in my life is one of the greatest honors I could ever have. The dead remind me to live. REALLY live.


So yes, maybe in some strange way- I am obsessed with Death. But its an obsession of absolution. I know that someday I will be like those bones….that will be all that is left of me on this earthly realm. I have no fear of that.