The drive to work made me take the easiest route which goes by the homeless camp. Is that why not many take that road? Fifteen years working in downtown San Diego made me comfortable uncomfortable. Here is a poem I wrote in 2014. Seeing/Not seeing Walking early morning downtown San…

I’m soul I’m not only my appearance In fact that is the least of me A spiritual being Learning my life purpose Your whole opinion of me You make from a fraction I am a lover and a fighter A giver not a taker A writer a dreamer a visionary …

It's April, my nephew celebrates his 25th birthday. I first met him on his six-month birthday, when I returned from Rhodes. I had a jean jacket and the mink coat I inherited from my grandmother, by the way, that is a whole other story. I went to Goodwill in Houston…

The Generation of Inspiration Remembering the day I drove over the bridge to Coronado. Looking for a home that combined my need for like-minded community-focused people, a small-town feel, and close to the sea. It to me really feels like home with the most amazing folks. Living in a building…

Being there is a gift. Being there for those in trouble, in pain, in need. The many times I wished I was there: When my mother broke her ankle. When my father had a stroke. When my father died. For all the family members I lost on the East Coast…

Last night I went to see a movie that was special to me. Puss and Boots was the show it affected me more than I would know. The story itself reminded me of myself: having many lives, many stories, and all the things I tried or hoped to be. A…

Through the looking glass is about a world accessible in a mirror. How glass can transport you to another time and place. Here is my story. Last night a tiny splinter of glass pierced the bottom of my foot. …

In the last two weeks: I had dreams of suicide Three optimist died this week Someone I was casually dating and talked with every day just about for two years brought a date to the events I organized stopped talking to me and friends I used to see every…

Jazz, coffee shops, drawing, singing, and dancing: the stories of my creative life. How tragic love can be. The ending of a marriage in the first case, caused me to give up the color pink, jazz, drawing, and being called Cindy. When I left my home to go to college…