Creative Flow

My rhetorical orgy

The B-Side track of my life

Never be Afraid

… Unless your face to face with a foot-long Cobra swaying psychedelically to what can only be a Door’s track… then YES, take heed and tread lightly, because you will probably await much pain and agony, or death. But it’s in those enthralling, tantalizing, don’t-open-the-cookie-jar… aspects of life, that if taken full-heartedly, and with a hint of naïveté… can have the same serotonine-diving, complete and utter pit-of- despair. I wish we never crossed paths! … kind of effect if bitten.

Chances are choices you take consciously , aware or not , and often times you don’t or you can’t charm every reptile that slithers your way. If the pain of the spell being broken is unbearable, realize you may have just been poisoned. Don’t blame the Cobra, don’t blame yourself. Be aware and present to the moment when you thought you fucked up, and realize you weren’t the first, nor the last to be bitten. Are you catching my drift? Is this analogy resonating? I like snakes more then frogs. I’d rather charm a cobra then kiss a frog…. I live for adventure, spark, danger, new adventures. I'm a true-blue romantic. I’d rather attempt to charm a snake, then grab the lowest hanging fruit and lay a big one on a warty frog. I know a lot of women share my sentiment. 

 Snakes get a bad rep. They are solitary, they are born in packs, relaxed and aggressive if perturbed, sensitive, friendly, dangerous, they hide, they strangulate their victims with a hug, they spit venom, they bite… snakes are complex creatures. They have a lot to teach us. In my opinion, they are the perfect analogies for Mr. Wrong, Mr. Right, or Mr. Right Now. Simply put, if your still dating and don’t have a ring on it, if you took that apple and enjoyed taking a bite while Mr. Snake cheered you on, and then you balmed the snake for your choice in grabbing the apple… And then you somehow found yourself saying flippantly,” that guy was a jerk! I can’t believe I’m here again!” .

I hear you. I shared many conversations over a bottle of wine with my friends of frustration and disappointments about relationships and breakups. You can’t dismiss your feelings, they are there to teach you the ultimate lesson. Your intuition, those tears you cried, the jealousy you felt, the cringe-worthy denile, degradation…brutalizing yourself for past missteps… Grant yourself some respite and grace already! We are all humans. We have the right to make bad choices, to fall for the wrong guy or girl, to slip into a bad situation. To go a little stir crazy sometimes.

So instead of repeating mishap after mishap, heartbreak after heartbreak, drunk text after drunk text… learn from your pain, and enlighten yourself to a less perilous existence; Although, peril can be fun… doom and gloom can be, well, dismal. Life is meant to be joyous, and pain is never a mistake. Pain teaches you how great it feels to be in JOY. Being in LOVE is the ultimate joy, but love starts with loving… YOU! Thank that snake for biting you,  remember how it felt, and move past the snake altogether. 

A lot of people, including myself, have blindly believed in romantic love. That one is not complete without the love and devotion of another. That’s a myth. Much like Snake Charmers, they make people believe they are soothing the beast with their beautiful, hypnotic music. But in actuality, the snake cannot even hear the music.

The power of attraction is a projection of what qualities YOU HAVE deeply embedded within yourself. The love, sexuality, creativity, adventure, passion… all those qualities that you begged God at the foot of your bed every night when you were thirteen, asking whoever you believed to be up there or not, praying for that jock to see you and not tease you, praying for a man that looked like Johnny Depp and stood in the rain outside your door with a boombox raised high above his head blaring “In Your Eyes”, rather then feeling blessed for those same qualities that laid dorment in your soul, for the gift of life— you cursed the skies for drawing in so many horror stories instead of love stories, or no love at all.

It might seem depressing to be alone, or to be tricked by current lovers that break your heart and make you feel hopeless. Always remember that self-love is paramount to ever having any healthy relationship. You can’t change anyone, only your perspective can change.

Women get a bad reputation too for being “crazy”, too talkative, too emotional, too conflicted… some  cliches are true, but I embrace anything I feel, be it from an internal source or an external source. I’m an emotional being trying to bond with others. We have a calling to share our hearts.  Men have labels bestowed on them as well for being detached from their feelings. We all know men feel immense pain too through love lost, breakups, failures, rejection, jealousy, expectations that they have to reach. I wish we could live in a world without  segregation of the sexes being this or not. I’m writing this book completely from my own personal journey with relationships, with help, and my own personal perspective on the matter of what real love feels like. My past relationships weren’t failures, because they taught me to become aware of myself and how I treat others in this world. I value my past and I’m continuously learning to be more conscious of my choices, my responsibility while on this planet, and the on-going effort to be optimistic about my future. The pain of loss has made me more reflective and observant of people I let into my life. Pain is a great teacher. You never forget the pain of a bite. Yet, some throw themselves into the snake pit constantly, and I’m just hear to share my heart and hopefully help those confused and depressed about heartbreak. 

I remember reading a very popular story in all those trash magazines about a girl my age, we both went through struggle of expectations from a loved one, the isolation, the pain of rejection, and feelings of abandonment,  but she commited suicide and I didn’t. I remember reading her story and feeling like I had the same desperate feelings of just wanting to be loved completely by another who just wasn’t right for me. I remember after reading that article, that I would never expect or NEED someone to show me love. That I needed to learn how to love myself first and foremost… no matter what! That I would some way, somehow, help others who felt the same pain and hopefully help them realize they were so much more.  I want to suck that poison out from a snake bite. 

My ending note for now is, for the times a loved one betrayed you or broke your heart… your heart is still beating, faster then ever now. This doesn’t make you weak, it makes you more resilient.

For the times you were swept off your feet, told you were beautiful, and you felt like you both were running through a romantic movie, and then he never called you back… that doesn’t change who you were to him in that moment, you are and were always this burning flame, totally accessible in that moment. Some can’t hold onto that fire.

When you overextended yourself, your kindness, your generosity, your time, and they couldn’t or wouldn’t do the same… I want to remind you that you were doing your best, and you’ll always do your best from now on. 

That pivotal moment when your Dad saw you crying over your first crush or boyfriend that broke your heart, and he reminded you that they weren’t worthy of you, because he’s the only man that saw you as a vibrant babe in diapers, making wishes and blowing on dandelions, and totally and unabashedly unafraid of snakes or running naked in a crowd. He was right when he said Mr. Right will come, you have to kiss a lot of frogs, or dance with snakes. ;) 

Backstory of snake charming:The snake-charmers in India formulated a great plan of action to traversing the pain of a snake bite… instead of fearing  and being paranoid of letting their scaly neighbors run them out of home and country… they decided not to fight, kill, or run… they decided to play music and be one with the Cobra. {Snake Charming is a dying profession. A lot of it is an illusion. Some snake charmers sew the mouths of the snakes shut, or the snakes are too exhausted to fight, also the flute or the “Pungi” is the real enemy to the snake. }

So welcome to my modern Survival Guide of Charming Snakes and Surviving Getting Bitten. Cool. I’m going to elaborate on the subject of taking chances to dance with snakes a little bit further… 



Wave of Change

Okay Universe, I’m being tirelessly optimistic. I want to lay my roots down.  I know this a time of self-discovery and I should just ride the wave of change, but send me some respite. A golden ticket or some instant gratification. Challenges are fun and I’m working hard, but need a place to call my own. The unknown is exciting and I can already feel like I’m in some episode from “The Hills”, minus the Prada and the drama. No, I’m like in some episode of “Girls” with a Larry David narrative. At least there’s some humor. 

Confident Confusion


I’m insecure.

Because the world says I’m strange.


Not to the point where insecurity is my psychological label, prescription, or diagnosis, but I question my sanity on a daily basis. 

I’m crazy…

I don’t like being labeled.

( i don’t even like capitalizing my individual possession of “I”) … Why? We’re basically all the same. Just we have different degrees of intensity; some people are cold, mild, burning hot… unique.

I’m insane because I indulge in the realities of my dreams and nightmares. I believe my subconscious holds more answers then my conscious state. I’m insane because my senses are heightened, and I imagine scenes in multicolor dimensions. 

I don’t abuse drugs. I’m not even a social drinker,  isolated consumer of sugar, booze, tobacco, etc…

I’m comfortable expressing my thoughts, because they’re all I have. They form my reality and they draw the people I know understand to me…

My drug is my mind’s eye. I’ve always gotten high from my own perspectives.

I have a free flow of consciousness. 

I can break thru to the other side.



I’m insane because I still can relate to Radiohead and Bjork. I feel I can speak the language of the depressed, the insane , and the bohemians…


I’m aesthetic, poetic, artistic, and autistic… 


I can speak the truth of our nature. Nothing is planned, scheduled, preordained…

It just is — a marinated mixture of madness and patterns, subtracted and calculated into a diluted canister of truth and randomness.

Life is a search for meaning in a landscape of chaos; beauty,ugliness, and the in-between — the idleness that leaves time to ruminate about meaning.

My life is abstract. My life is confusing. My life is a blessing. And then shit happens…

I’m just another microbial development. 

I see more colors, more dimensions, and hear more sounds.

I perceive.

Can You?


Chelsea


Strange Girl

  imageI haven’t blogged in forever! I had major writer’s block once I became employed. During my dry spell of finding employment, I became willfully anti-social. I never realized my identity is mainly linked to my work ethic, until I had no work. Now that I have an esthetician job, I feel more at home in my skin. 

 Being unemployed, I have gathered, makes me feel more inept at life in general. I mean, no one wants to be unemployed. I just really would rather be at work, then decide what to do on my time off; it’s a teeter totter part of life, to balance work and pleasure. But pleasure for me is building a career, and being on the clock— I’m a strange girl.

When I had my first job, I had to designate at least 2-3 hours before work to insure that I wouldn’t be late. I always came in 15 minutes early. I never volunteered to take breaks. I just wanted to do my best job while on the clock, and then rest when I was off. So being unemployed was like Chinese Water Torture for me. 

I think it’s because I was so lazy as a kid, now I just want to be productive and active in my adult life.



Be Water

Okay, so I’ve been soul searching. I reached the crescendo part in my life—my quarter life crisis— where living in a shanty town in India would be even more rewarding than in an overpriced apartment. I still love the comfort of a nice bed , with family and friends in relatively close proximity, so India might need to be reassessed. 

The word  ”Om” has left my mouth numerous times lately. I’ve been scanning Siddhartha , trying tirelessly to emulate a Buddhist Monk , and being grateful to even a fly for the past couple of months; the operative word here being tried.

I’ve gone thru a real life shift in my perceptions of reality. I’m starting to believe , because these are truths universally easy to grasp and believe. It’s hard to be optimistic when you’ve been raised as an atheist.

We are all connected. 

This introspection and search for spiritual meaning always seems to happen when I’m dead broke or anxious about something (everything). The big impetus to my anxiety was my peripheral debt issue, looming in the wings of my mind.

I felt that this self-conceived, magnified stress, so magnified, that everything slopped on my plate was too hard to consume.  Fortunately,  my stress isn’t unique. I had to stop being the definition of insane; which is repeating the same steps over and over again expecting different results. I decided to read The Secret and the book The Science of Getting Rich. I’m a true blue pessimist. I rarely believe in anything supernatural . I like to believe in facts and science, but even in science, scientists believe in the laws of the Universe . The universe  is expanding.  Our universe is expanding and so are our minds. I do believe in energy and us being synergistic with the universe. Light and sound form matter…so it makes sense that thoughts have a frequency. I just hated how cheesy all the campaigns were for The Secret 

I now know that I need to strive for happiness, unimpeded by self-consciousness. I need to free my mind. I need to have a state of pure flow. I need to be like water; always changing and flowing until it dries up.

Hypothetical Travel writing about the Appalachia

image There is nothing more adventurous then venturing out of the city, grabbing your closest compadres, and heading up to Appalachia— an untouched frontier … or so they thought. It was just the boys, a pack of beer, some bow n’ arrows, and the token fat friend, who was very unlucky indeed. The boys knew he might weigh them down, somehow, but they never could imagine the grotesque ways in which he would stall their trip. Who thought, “hey, lets go to the sticks for some R & R, away from the grind of corporate living!”? — that person was Burt Reynolds. Rapid waters can be exhilarating, sure. But no movie-goer could foresee such a terrible motive for a scene. Shock value has hit an all time low! The 70’s film makers took free reign of exploitation and not censoring their work, which I commend, but did we really need the butter scene in Last Tango in Paris, or the squealing rape of an unfortunate urbanite in Deliverance, just for the sake of art? Probably. I would go balls-out too if I grew up in the midst of the Great Depression, McCarthyism , and the Cold War’s atom bomb hysteria…. I would definitely need to be shocked by something bizarre , and this would require disengagement from “normalcy”. But , no, Deliverance ruined my vision of this vast land, forever… Now, the tourism in the Appalachian mountains has hit the same, sea level abyss. I’m hyperbolizing, of course tourists still find enjoyment in tracking the ruggedness of this wild region. Sure, there are American travelers that pine for fresh mountain air, rocky mountain springs, and some John Denver ditty playing in their head, but do they take into account that they may need protection from not only animals, but also from the local people; this wild environment evokes good ol’ deep, true-blue American nostalgia, but then there’s Deliverance, and it doesn’t matter how many times you view Jeremiah Johnson… after viewing this flick, a Pavlovian response will be ingrained in your psyche, and whenever you hear “the Dueling Banjos” , or happen to see moonshine-toting Appalachian residents down by the river, I’m sure you’ll, or at least I do, will tighten up your rear in fear! I’m not the chosen one to dispel the myth of these wiled inhabitants, I’m satirizing their stereotypes, of course.

I’m pretty disgusted by Honey Boo Boo Child and MTV’s new pilloristic program Buckwild; ( yea, I invented the word pilloristic from pillory …) this program is a Jackass meets Laguna Beach, set in the backwoods of West Virginia , and the title pretty much says it all. These people sure like perpetuating the media’s image of them as a culturally backward region. And Reality TV sure likes exploiting and sensationalizing different parts of our culture… I don’t need to Redneck-onize…I can’t turn the channel without seeing people willfully trash their own culture for “fame”. Can they go back to city life after squealing like a pig for their 15 minutes of fame? I catch glimpses of these nimrods, encouraging youngsters to drink and fight, for no apparent reason, and to take pride in being assholes. They glorify gun-shooting, as they should for that region, by playing “get up and kick ass” country music, and edit it in slow motion….making it seem sexy to shoot guns, and then they blast stupid PSA’s on gun control…? Say what you mean MTV! Such hypocrites.

It’s no wonder why other countries hate us. Just tune into Real Housewives, Mafia Wives, Amish Mafia ( which still confuses me ), and other shows that degrade our once proud image. In 1968 Andy Warhol famously said, “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes.” And every day it seems like he’s a little bit more on target. To be continued… Chelsea

My journal from 2006.To be continued…

In warfare, you need space to align your troops, room to maneuver. The more space you have, the more efficient your strategy can be. I was about to go to battle with my ego. I knew I wasn’t going to be defeated! I didn’t want to be defeated, but the rejection was like having my heart, cut and ripped out of my chest, dangled in front of me, and I was still alive to see the whole pulsating mess. I couldn’t put the moment out of my mind. That exact moment of… this person can’t stand to be around me….and the feeling isn’t reciprocated. I had already been dumped by my boyfriend— why dump the last shred of dignity that I barely even possessed? The drunken emails, pathetic phone calls, and the desperation of it all, those moments didn’t help my campaign at all. I was about to be massacred in my own private warfare against myself. I needed to lift my white flag out of the trenches, and declare surrender on myself. The week of being crippled and sad in bed, with chick flicks stacked on the DVD player, and candy bar wrappers strewn across my floor, had to stop! It was either I rot into my bed, or I plan my next attack. I chose to strategize. I needed space, and lots of it! I decided to get the hell out of California, and do what all young, broke hearted women do… travel Europe. With my finances in order, and a couple of months later, I was in Europe. I had decided to go to Spain to study Spanish. I don’t remember learning much from class, as much as I did outside of the class. I can’t even begin to tell you how amazing Spain was, but the real destination that I wanted to go to, that I’ve always fantasized about, was Santorini, Greece. Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford a last minute trip to Greece. So where could I go that was cheap, and that the rest of my class was going to… Amsterdam. And their reason for traveling to the land of clogs and canals, was because it was April 20th. Yea…420. I had a wild thought, when in Rome, do as the Romans do… Or when in Amsterdam, do as the Dutch doobie. ( if one was under the influence, maybe the pun would be funnier). I figured, my months of stress would be best silenced by inhaling some THC, and just getting high in a city full of pastries and Tulips. And I must say… It did!

Adrenaline junkie on the couch

image My hobby has always been writing: scripts, blogs, journals, comedy, and novellas. I just felt compelled to write a horror movie, my favorite genre to watch, and my very own adrenaline rush. I don’t ride roller coasters or jump out of planes… I scare myself on the couch.

I have such a curious personality. I’m a pacifist; I hope to be wealthy so I can pay back loans to my family, rescue animals, and help those in need. My boyfriend has to console me if I accidentally view those heart-wrenching advertisements on animals and children being brutalized or starving; those big, watery eyes looking in the camera for help— Gaaawd— prevents me from wearing mascara. On the other idle hand, I also have a morbid fascination with the unusual, Horror fiction , and deviance, in a sociological context.

I was a Sociology major in college; the most interesting topics and classes that I took were Social Problems, Crime studies, and Deviance. I think my rubbernecking with the bizarre and dark started when my Grandmother told me I was related to Lizzie Borden. My Grandmother sang the little morbid rhyme:

Lizzie Borden took an axe

And gave her mother forty whacks.

When she saw what she had done

She gave her father forty-one.

I was probably 7 when I first discovered what evil was. When she told me we had an axe murderress that chopped away part of the family tree , I sat there perplexed, who could do such a horrible thing? [ She was determined not guilty, but there are skeptics]

From then on, I was obsessed! I urged my dad to let me watch Misery with him. I didn’t want to listen to fairy tales or lullabies… I wanted my dad to read me anthologies on famous crimes, like Jack the Ripper, Goosebumps, Scary Stories— anything terrifying!

I can recall having a repetitive dream, where I’d be babysat by a couple who had fun,and felt no pain, chopping each other up with a axe; sometimes I’d even wake up and get physically sick from this recurring dream-nightmare. I named my Maine Coon cat Jack-the-Pumpkin-King, and would yell out his name in a melodic resonance, just like the Skeleton King he was named after did in A Nightmare Before Christmas. I had so many nightmares swirling in my head with Chucky, Michel Myers, and Freddy Krueger chasing me. I also felt, what Tim Burton and Edgar Allen Poe must of felt… a childlike glow whenever I spectated the subject matter of death as entertainment ; I’m sure this was the source of much of my neuroses growing up . October is my favorite month , because of all the horror movie marathons. I couldn’t stop being drawn to the dark side. Horror fascinated and horrified me. The subject was such an enigma to me.

I’ve always been interested in observing a reality different from mine. It doesn’t matter how disturbed and upset it makes me— it takes me out of my head.

Horror in fiction and non-fiction, ignites the imagination to ponder things that its possessor has never seen— the existence of which is not ordinary; which is too horrible to imagine. This is probably why this genre breaks the bank at the theater—readers and movie-goers are seduced into that willing suspension of disbelief. Throughout history, all the way to the present, and set in production, humans love to sensationalize death and sex…it just is. Fear sells. What bleeds leads.

We are afraid of the unexpected… we are afraid to live and die.

Horror movies are so entertaining, for me, because if it’s really bad, then it’s hilarious! And if its really good, then it’s groundbreaking. You can’t be middle ground or passé. Blockbusters like to copycat movies about the same old theme, because its proven to get people in the seats. I’m tired of fads. Be original!!! Show us something that we’re not desensitized by.Thrill us!

I’m so irritated by the horror market nowadays. All these flicks about young girls being possessed by the devil, supernatural poltergeists, and zombie apocalyptic fads. Been there, done that, and yes, bought the T-shirt! How many remakes and spin-offs do we need of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, really ? Then it hit me! I got a great idea and told my boyfriend immediately, like I had the best idea in the world! He was polite and listened…paused and said, “uhhh… that’s totally the Terminator”. I don’t know how I missed that one…

I’m Brainstorming.

Horror is a great tool to use in fiction if you want to base it on social commentary for satirical purposes. I’ve been interested in the whole Dystopian society, set in the future, and under some kind of speculative fiction premiss. With all the 2012 Doomsday preppers hoopla… it seems cliché. Hm…. We need more originality! We need another great genre director like, Stanley Kubrick, Ridley Scott, Dario Argento, David Cronenburg, David Lynch, Hitchcock, Eli Roth, Rob Zombie, Toshiharu Ikeda, Lars Von Trier, Wes Craven, and Robert Rodriguez… just to name a few. I’m bored. I’m thinking if no one’s making it your way, then learn how to cook for yourself.

it came out in 1979!

I revere horror, if it provokes illicit feelings that are unknown or repressed.

If done in such a way, the genre can be a great outlet for presenting political issues and satires on society, but in a freakish and demented, allegoric form.

Zombies are great for touching on topics like civil rights, consumerism, decline of progress in technology, apocalyptic anxiety ( y2k ), epidemic and pandemic fears, media control, and outspread populations… the list goes on and on, because humans do the same with each boom and social change.

Vampires, like Bram Stoker’s Dracula, are great allegorical tales about the dangers of female sexuality, and the mysterious Libertines who seduce them. ( There are a lot of different theories on themes in horror)

Werewolves are hyper-sexual and hyper-masculine; maybe a allegory for puberty. There’s always a love interest that tries to subdue their beastly sides.

With the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and the Daigo Fukuryū Maru incident still fresh in the Japanese consciousness, Godzilla was conceived as a monster created by nuclear detonations and a metaphor for nuclear weapons in general. ( Wikipedia )

I love Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein. The novel is an open discussion on “good” and “evil”; An affirmation of Romanticism over Enlightenment ideas; a condemnation of man’s rejection of ‘normal’ (socially sanctioned) sexuality; nuture vs. nature, an exploration of the idea of the noble savage, and an overall theme on Death.

So, this is a brief ( long ) history on why I love Horror. It’s actually really easy to manifest a storyline on the subject. I just want something original. Random Fact: One of the exorcists of the Diocese of Rome says his favorite movie is ‘The Exorcist’ – and that he feels the movie is “substantially exact”. Chelsea

Vicious Cycle

Your hair is dead and doesn’t need washing. (press the title for the link)