I wish I could wake up in the morning
To a house that’s prepped and made
No dishes or mess to clean up
The laundry is folded and put away

I wish that I was understood
That my efforts were noticed
And in return the context clues I love to scatter
Get swept up by loved ones
Offering to return the favor

I wish that I could walk the streets late at night
No mace or pepper spray in my line of sight
My keys are meant to unlock my door
Not clenched between my knuckles
Waiting to be bore

I wish that I could shake the hands
Of each passerby I encounter
Grinning widely from cheek to cheek
Exchanging pleasantries and
our hopes for the future
Morals aligning and feeling at ease
Knowing many people feel the same as me

I wish I had one perfect day
To rest and partake in hobbies
No work to stress
Just reading my favorite books in hotel lobbies
I would sing and dance and play in the rain
No anger left, no unresolved pain

Because womanhood is often a burden
That at times feels like a tyrant warden
Patiently waiting until my time is served
And knowing my aptitude is mildly absurd
But I often hope for the little things
Because to me they feel like extraordinary wins
And when this mindless duty is fulfilled
My perfect day will be without guilt

A Perfect Day is accepting there are no perfect days,
While there may be a flaw, a blemish upon the face,
There is the joy of lipstick,
A pop of color giving life to an old soul,
An iridescent smile accepting the stale reheated coffee, of which
Faded red lipstick stains still clutch on to old coffee mugs,
While the bittersweet memories remain intact,
An outlook has changed,
Despite being in bed tossing and turning the night before,
You spend your morning in gratitude,
Until you allow yourself to seize the day and run into life,
Allow yourself to not let your inner melodrama to bring you down,
You inhale the air of life, and exhale the negativity,
A perfect day is not allowing the bad dreams in your body
To dictate your awakened state of reality,
 
I find the best moments in a perfect day to be full of laughter,
Laughter and having a sense of humor helps provide sunlight
To a darkened room, I find that my perfect day is where my sister
And I laugh and giggle like two partners in crime,
My perfect day is filled with moments of calm and piece,
It is not just a perfect day, but a days worth of memories,
That happily sit with me,
I find that there are perfect moments in the utter realms of destruction,
Opportunities to make something broken stir alive again,
 
My perfect day is where I begin with a fresh mindset,
An early morning walk with the dog,
I allow my perfect day to not be a pity party,
But a day of forgiveness and healing,
A perfect day is flooding the darkness with pure light,
And not allowing the burnt stale coffee to foul my mood,
 
For in my perfect day I am freeing myself from what brings me down.

Sunset comes in muted hues

Orange fire and baby blues

Seaside skies, so vast in views

Birds pass lovers, two by twos

The day erased to bygone news

Sunlight fades to starry muse

Gentle flames from bonfires fuse

Bring restful bliss from daytime’s ruse

From sunrise lies to nighttime truths

Our life resets when dawn renews

“Have a great day!” It’s a common wish among friends and well-wishers. We can easily say to someone “I hope that you have a great day today!,” and, unlike other hopes that we might have, is easy and effortless stuff.

At the core, it all depends upon what you make of your day. It has a different meaning for different people. Since we’re here, I’ll give you mine.

Simply put, my definition of “A great day” is easy as pie. A great day means getting up in the morning and being able to know that I have new episodes of podcasts to listen to in my feed.

Every weekday (barring major holidays), I start the day by listening to Nothing Personal with David Samson, a former Survivor castaway and President of the Miami Marlins. He’s smart, fresh, and funny.

A great day means that I can write. Since writing about combat sports is how I make my livelihood, I’ve had so many great days over the last six years.

Perhaps most importantly, a great day is one spent talking to and hanging out with the people most important me. The greatest days happens when my nieces get to spend time with me, their uncle.

Thanks for reading. Make this day a great one.

Don’t Give Up, It’s a Lie
I’ll tell you a story. Four years ago, I sat at the end of my chair at seven at night. I was tired, no exhausted, desperate, fearful, and as hopeless as I have ever felt in this false world, I built around me and played a make-believe character in, and I knew. I don’t know how I hadn’t known before. Maybe I had. Maybe I had always known. But right then I knew for sure.

It was a lie.

It was clearer to me in that moment than it had ever been before. I knew it without a doubt in my mind. I knew it and nothing and no one could ever change my mind.

It was a lie.

I did all the things you should do in that situation. I bent my head and covered my face and prayed. I prayed and I prayed and then I prayed some more. Tears streamed down my face, dripping on my shoes. The harder I prayed the more I knew.

It was a lie.

I had come to this place, this holy sanctuary three years earlier, searching, pleading for healing. I’d spent twenty-seven months on my knees in earnest prayerful repentance. I’d sat in circles surrounded on both sides by sexual addicts, pedophiles, and the sexually broken searching for healing. I’d listened for the voice of God to speak to me and fix my brokenness. To make me whole, make me straight. I’d sung songs, read verses, prayed endless prayers and nothing. But I tell you that night as my tears ran off the sides of my shoes and dripped to the floor, I knew.

It was a lie.

There was no amount of prayer or repentance that could make me straight. There was no sickness to heal in me. There was no sin to forgive. I was a lesbian not a sexual deviant, a lesbian. Everything they were telling me was false.

It was a lie.

Today I know as I did that night that I am whole just as I am. I’m not broken. I’ve heard a great deal about reparative therapy and trust me when I say it doesn’t work. Whatever else you read, whatever else you hear, remember this, it is not true. You cannot fix a homosexual and make them straight.

Don’t Give Up, It’s a Lie!

Perfectly Equal

Once upon a perfect day
All were equal in every way

Not color nor gender
Did prevent the render

Of kindness and care
Bestowed on everyone everywhere

In fact, all differences at hand
We celebrated in fashion most grand

And an impenetrable sphere
Protecting both straight and queer

And those dark skinned and light
Surrounded our earth, preventing a blight

Which threatened evil and strife
Upon this our most perfect life

For hate may have been the prequel
But equal would be the sequel

On this most perfect day
Conjured and imagined my way