Art on The Alley

It finally happened... As many of you know, New Philadelphia Ohio's Art on The Alley vendor event was something I've been looking forward to and preparing for since the beginning of the 2022 New Year.  I participated in early October of 2021 and learned so much from the experience that I was ready for the next: heart blazing, motivation obtained, and inspiration aflame, and have already invested tons of time and money in making sure I have everything I require for May's event: from large items like a tent and gridwall panel towers to smaller items like prints, varied originals, business cards, display cases-- anything I felt would aid in my success.  When the day came, I was more than ready. It happened this past Sunday...  Here's what I have to say about the experience: It was HOT, but there was a huge turnout.  I went early morning to set up my area (a cute little spot in a parking lot beside this cupcake shop) and getting everything together took some time but I had

Finding Acceptance in the Past, Andrea Geones

Finding Acceptance in the Past By Andrea Geones from Words Between Coasts. The past is the past. The past is in the past. Yet, it lingers on, branded into the mind, twine embracing those invisible, intangible things called thoughts, called feelings. The moments of the past, each moment, some a second long, others an eternity, come and go. They live and they die. They die, but their ghosts haunt their unfortunate, or fortunate, victims, molding the lenses through which they see the world. Coloring the shades with their darkness, lightness, richness, paleness. Robbing them of their purity, replacing it with hope, rigidness, fear, love. The cold, ghostly breath of influence that those souls fight with words like, “I am not my past”, and while they are not their past, the twine of the past still embraces them, sometimes hidden, other times squeezing tight. The breath of the past surrounding them with icy shivers and claustrophobic manipulation, whispering a subtly threatening “never let g

Trumps Advisor is a Puppet

I attended a show live once. A Jeff Dunham show with my husband somewhere in Florida, years back-- a gift from my sister-in-law to me some Christmas (an awesome gift at that, I was so genuinely excited because I LOVE Jeff Dunham) and something always stood out to me about his character that day. In the show, he introduced a new puppet named Larry. He was a coffee-strewn, single-inconvenience-away-from-total-meltdown advisor to President Donald Trump.  Here he is: Poor guy looks so stressed out, and I imagine rightfully so (lol).  Remember how I said it was Dunham's first introduction of this character? Pushing back the fact that it was an experience of epic proportions (imagine, being the first to see something of this importance, in person at that), this character showed me how well Dunham could adapt to his audience.  That little grunt thing Larry does... Initially, Dunham overdid the quirk. It was humorous at first, but using it after everything the character said, it grew redun

Bursting Bubbles, Why It's Un-safe in a Relationship To Stay Where You Feel Most Comfortable

I can only think of one word to best describe what I'm talking about: Complacency "[It's] marked by self-satisfaction especially when accompanied by unawareness of actual dangers or deficiencies" It's like a sickness that leaves you with 0 motivation, 0 drive, and 0 accountability. You get too used to something, and you don't see how adversely it affects you and the relationships you hold with others.  I bet you're wondering, rather sarcastically I might add, "so you're saying it's wrong to feel satisfied? Wrong to feel content?" No. What I'm saying is that complacency is NOT OKAY. Here's why: Feeling satisfied or content is different than being complacent , although many tend to think that they go hand-in-hand... ...but in reality, complacency is what happens when that satisfied or content feeling is just expected to stick around without proper work being put into it to keep it that way.  Here's an example: A couple moves

The Clouds Color Themselves Pastel...

Prompt 4 of our Piccadilly "Write the Poem" challenge: Spring At winter's end I find myself anticipating the season of new growth, where flowers bloom, and bees abuzz in the gentle warmth of blessed sunshine: Spring. In the early mornings, where the sun barely stretches above the horizon, and the clouds color themselves pastel, the sound of morning doves can be heard vocalizing their sing-song coos. The sound eases my heart, and instills a sense of peace within me. Day's like those remind me of my childhood. Where I used to live, in the quiet of the suburban; the place where my mother, siblings, and I lived; where my mother's grandfather and grandmother, lived before her. Memories she recalled of her time there, became memories I keep with me, as they tell a bit of the tale that was and is her existence. My mother often brings me clarity in times when I am most confused. My thoughts, like a dead winter, where her words thaw me like Spring. Perhaps that is why I h

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