Tag Archives: utopia

Hate: The Other 4-Letter Word

I hate that most of my creams explicitly require to be kept in ambient temperature under 25 degrees Celcius. All I have below 25 is my fridge, but I don’t think that’s ambient. Plus I think I’d be grossed out to find some of my “special” needs creams in the fridge.

I hate being imposed upon. I don’t say no very well. People know that and take advantage of it. This is not what I consider a friendly thing to do. I know I should learn to say no.

I hate extreme heats. I just can’t take the heat! I fall apart and become way too sluggish.

I hate my trackpad. It’s slowly becoming a rectangle of uselessness on my computer. Highlighting and clicking now requires 5-7 re-takes.

I hate word capchas. They drive me nuts! And while I’m on the topic of stuff I hate with blogs – black background with white or yellow font. Looks cool and artsy but with my eyes? All I see is black speckles after.

I hate perfection. I can’t stand it when people have to achieve it all the time! Give it up! Even Martha Stewart went to jail with her perfectly matching set of tea cups and towels! Put some stripes with some dots and a brown skirt topped off with socks of miss matching colors! Be bold! Make a statement!

I hate being called disgusting for liking or doing something only later to hear the same person rant and rave about discovering something new and amazing – which was the exact same thing she considered disgusting.

I hate it when people don’t own up to their mistakes “I never did that!” “I never said that!” Own it.

I hate endives. It’s a bitter vegetable that leaves nothing but a horrible taste in my mouth.

I hate it when somebody makes me feel stupid for not knowing something he or she just learned an hour ago. (Doug Stanhope)

I hate it when people steal ideas from others but claim them as their own.

I hate my addiction to the internet.

I hate that I cry easily.

I hate people who “I know” everything. Stop it. It’s not even possible to “I know” everything. And it’s annoying. (And don’t say “I know”)

I hate throwing up.

I hate haters. Stop hating all the time. The world is a beautiful place.

I hate intolerance. Hate’s pretty big for a four letter word. Learn to not only tolerate differences but to appreciate them. You just may fall in love with something weird and exotic!


Bud and Me

Hurricane Bud
Hearing about the oncoming hurricane, we debated over what we should do. Our friends took shelter in a local marina. These are our surfing – paddling – occasional drinking friends from our favored anchorage in Punta de Mita. We figured we’re young’ish, brave’ish, and broke’ish (marina fees = ugh) so we huddled in the bay near the marina, just in case’ish.


I’m scared. I’m trying not to be. But I am. I know the storm shouldn’t hurt us. But still. The waves are rocking the boat making us move. More than I wish. They’re hitting the boat hard enough to sound like an alarming slam.

Heartbeat ≈ 91

The rain stops and starts again. When it stops if feels like everything will be OK. But then the rain starts back up again. And with it comes the wind. The wind is not reassuring to say the least.

Heartbeat ≈ 94

This is my first hurricane. They call it a level 2 or something like that. I guess that makes it a mild one. Mild if you’re on land. In a solid home. Made of brick and mortar. I’m not in such a home. My home has a transmission and it floats.

Heartbeat ≈ 97

We’ve already secured the deck as best as we could. Our boards are safely nestled next to our bed. I get to cuddle with my paddleboard. Our vee birth is filled with cushions, pads, canvases, and seats. Our windows are closed. But some with bad gaskets are leaking and dripping. So am I. It’s hot and humid.

Heartbeat ≈ 105

My at-rest heartbeat is on average in the low 60’s. I’m not really moving, other than my running and clicking fingers on the keyboard. I don’t even need to touch my wrist or my neck. My blood is pulsing so strongly all I need to do is count the beats as they pound away in my chest. I’m shaking. I know it will all be all right because Leo said it would. He promised to take care of me.

Heartbeat ≈ 112 

Make it stop. Please make it stop. Please please oh pretty please let me at least get this post out!

Hurricane Bud hit just South of us. Locals told us this year – there would be no hurricanes. The water is too cold, they said. Any hurricane may form South of here, but will die as they move North, they said.

Bud is the 2nd hurricane to hit East Pacific and we’re only but 10 days into hurricane season. And yes, we’re totally ok. Although I was a bit nervous, this was mainly an almost fictional piece as I tried to best describe an emotion. I will give a piece of candy to the first who can identify the emotion!  ツ

The images of the hurricane are however real and accurate. Freaky hunh?

Meet Me at the River

His hand rested on the back of her head. She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Slowly it went down her hair, petting her. All the way down to her neck. He brought his hand back up and his fingers circled around her hair. He held her.

With screaming eyes he forced her to look at him. His gaze poured buckets of hatred into her. She felt the acrid sour bitterness fill her from within. She tasted the venom on her tongue. She could almost hear an alarming “TICK” when he switched over to this mood. She didn’t know what triggered it. She never knew.

This time it was different. This time she felt oddly calm.

“Well?” She had no clue what he was talking about. “What?” He laughed. Almost as if her answer surprised him and with a choked laughter his spit covered her face. She felt remnants of his breakfast resting on her cheek. She found comfort in the thought even his food sought escape from him.

“Are you going to wipe that off?” This was his specialty. One of his damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don’t question. Even if she had a coin and tossed it, the result would be the same as ever: heads, she would lose and tails she would lose. Again. She didn’t answer, knew better than that and didn’t utter a word. But something was different. On any given day when his rage boiled over she drowned in fear.

Not today. Today she felt bathed in a warm river of peace. She was as calm as a soft summer breeze. And with this feeling she planned. Thoughts of “One day I will…” became “Today I am…”

His screams brought her back to reality. “Do you even hear me?” He shook her head. She could see his muscles flexing. She remembered the day he thrust a pair of scissors in her face. The relief she felt when he told her to cut off his sleeves. That was the day he chose Larry the get-er-done-guy as sole source for fashion inspiration and made her cut off the sleeves from every single shirt hanging in his closet.

With his other hand, he positioned her left nipple between his index and his thumb. She felt as though it was stuck between two small stones. He pinched and held his screaming howling gaze on her face. “Man are you ever fucking stupid!” She kept her mouth shut but her throat betrayed her allowing a small gasp to squeak out. “The day I married you was…” he finished his sentence with a growl.

And just like that it was over. She knew she’d be off the hook for the rest of the day. His waves of hatred took over and left as mysteriously as they came. He assumed his favorite position buried in his Laz-Y-Boy. Quietly she closed the bedroom door and changed. She put on a long summer dress. She walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge, grabbed a beer and popped it open. She placed it on the table next to his exposed arm.

She picked up her fruit basket and walked to the front door. “Where the hell are you going?” She stopped and turned towards him knowing she was finally safe to answer. “Today’s the last day. I want to get berries, they’ll all be spoiled by tomorrow.”

She walked out the door for what she knew would be the last and final time. “Make yourself useful for once and get me a cold one before you leave!” As she was closing the door she took once last look at him “It’s right there next to your elbow.” “It better be cold!” were his last words to her. Uttered behind a closed shaking door.

She paced herself as she made her way towards the field. Never looking back she went to her favorite spot in the shade. On her knees she filled her basket. On her knees she made a promise to herself. On her knees she took refuge in the knowledge it was over. She was a new person. She promised not to chastise herself over why she allowed him to destroy her. She also promised to not let it happen again.

She got up, took one last look towards the house and walked to the river. She ate her berries as she walked. She filled her stomach with juices and sugars. She filled her stomach with fruity happiness. And she smiled. Tears glided down her cheeks. She couldn’t remember this feeling, it had been so long, she couldn’t even name it.

She placed her empty basked between two rocks. Looked up to the sky then looked down to the river. She accepted its invitation and dove in. With every stroke she made her way towards an old familiar person she once loved. Again and again, with every stroke she repeated the words “I’m coming.”

With every stroke she found herself. Finally, she was coming home.

This is a Magpie Tale.

My Tips For Living Off the Grid – A Bill Free Life!

Leo and I on our way South

Most people sit in their cubicle and day dream of a life without bills. A life with as little obligations as possible. Most people dream of a way to simply get up and leave at any given time. Most people dream of the life I am currently living, and to be honest I wish more people could live the way I do.

Why? Because that would make this place we live in a generally happier place. And you know what THAT would mean? No more road rage! Booyah! But seriously, imagine the possibilities…

Continue reading My Tips For Living Off the Grid – A Bill Free Life!