I know what you’re thinking; it’s two weeks into the new year, you are way past due on writing about 2014, Rachel. Heck, everyone is just now ceasing from messing up the year when they sign and date things, if that’s not a clear indicator that you’re not on top of your blogging game than nothing is.
Oh, you weren’t thinking that? Well I was.
But alas, I am going to write this anyway. Truth be told, I’ve come to learn that I enjoy writing more than I do blogging- writing makes sense to me, it’s how I process and cope, it isn’t hard- blogging on the other hand forces me to do a lot of internet-y things that usually end in me wanting to throw my computer across the room. Am I old enough to become a Luddite yet? If not, am I important enough to have a HOBTH intern? Let me know if you think either of those questions warrant a ‘yes’ and then let’s talk. Continue reading “Better Late Than Never? A Year in Review: 2k14”
The card was kind of dumb if you ask me; it read: “Name the animal you most identified with before getting help for your problem.”
What are we, 12? I thought, but then again, I’d chosen this exercise for our discussion group, I really had no one to blame but myself.
“Come on Miss Rachel, you have to pick another one, that one doesn’t work for people whose problems are more about their cars breaking down than anything else.”
I wasn’t hurt, I understood where he was coming from, but I also knew he was wrong.
I hesitated. “I umm…well…I have had bigger problems than that.”
“Oh yeah, tell us then; if we have to share, you have to share.”
That’s fair. Continue reading “Me too.”
Alright, alright, alright, enough of you dear folks have written to me asking me my thoughts on Hannah Montana…err Miley Cyrus’ MTV VMA stunt on Sunday that I felt I really ought to address it. Truthfully, I have put it off all day, mainly due to the fact that I am about to defend Hannah…err Miley and that is not something I have ever wanted to do.
Sunday night, for those of you that missed it and/or are too lazy to click on the above link, Miley Cyrus, instead of personally accepting her MTV VMA award for her video Wrecking Ball, sent a 22-year-old (homeless? formerly homeless? this was never made clear) gentleman on stage to accept the award on her behalf and make a speech challenging viewers to join Miley in championing the cause to care for homeless youth in LA. On her Facebook page she encourages folks to donate with the incentive to enter a lottery in which there is a chance to win a trip to Rio with her. Continue reading “Miley Cyrus, an Ice Bucket and a Hipster Walk Into a Bar…”
Okokok, I sorta cheated. I started this project a day early. But before you go thinking it’s because I am just so super generous that I couldn’t help myself, let me be real with you; I DID NOT WANT TO.
It’s pouring BUCKETS here in L.A. right now and as everyone knows, NOBODY in this town is rain-equipped. I mean, you could be Scrooge McDuck, taking dips in your money bin, eating giants feasts every night, living in the lap of luxury, but even with all that money, you know what you’d still be missing? Any sense (or ability to drive) when the cloud start spewing. I truly believe that rain is the great equalizer here in the City of Angels.
Don’t get me wrong, I count myself 100% guilty of the above, but the one thing I do have is rain boots…two pair in fact. WHY? Because I tend think I am Noah and buy clothing in pairs so in the event they go extinct I am prepared.
Continue reading “March Against Excess Day #-1”
This is not a love letter. Well, maybe it is, but not of the romantic variety. This is a letter to Lucy, to Andre, to Darryl and all of the other men and women I have met who have been forced to the margins and shown me that, that is exactly where my God lives.
The Day I Met You
I still hear the voices sometimes
The ones that tell me to quiet down
Sit up straight
And act like a lady
“Ladies are quiet,” they say, “subdued”
The don’t scream at the unjust
They don’t cause a scene
And they sure as hell don’t curse Continue reading “The Day I Met You.”
“I’d be in first grade,” I told my executive director. “Like, say I was born the day I started working on Skid Row, I would have gone through all these big phases; I’d have cut teeth, crawled, walked, said my first words, dressed myself and then gone off to school, carrying a lunch box and learning to play dodgeball all in the time I’ve been here. It kinda feels like I grew up on these streets, with these people.”
“Rachel, you kinda did.”
Continue reading “I Grew Up on Skid Row.”