Thankful For:

  1. My Parents
  2. My Parents’ Parents
  3. My Parents’ Parents’ Parents’
  4. My sister Bella
  5. Not looking like Cinderella
  6. The way you tie your tie
  7. The sparkle in your eye
  8. Kisses
  9. The Missus
  10. Accepting the Passage
  11. Living like a Refined Savage
  12. The Planet
  13. The People, but don’t tell them.
  14. Each Life Challenge
  15. The Pain
  16. The Gain
  17. Most of all, for always being Tall.


Here is a list poem I wrote in honor of all the things I’m grateful for this Holiday season. What are some things on your “I’m Grateful for..” List?


Water Themed Poems!

Out to Eat with Me

Can I please have a glass of wooder?

Water, okay, so what’s your order?

I would like some eggs with a side of scrabble.

Sorry, did you babble?

Think I need a minute, just the wooder.


Wash against the occupants.

Aquarius has no more reigns.

Terra crumples.

Each droplet of smog poisons the blue greenery creation

Rest, Rivers. Please Rest.



I had a poetry reading at my local coffee shop where I got to debut this short little poems. Please enjoy! More to come.

Also, it’s Giving Tuesday! Check out F*ck University’s IndieGoGo Campaign!–2#/


Welcome to Fuck University!

Hello, my loves! I’m working alongside awesome, well-informed, charming creatives, and I wanted to reach out and invite you to check out our their web series, Fuck University! Fuck University is an educational web series going live in early 2020. Feel free to click on the link to their IndieGoGo to learn more, and donate if you want! Our IndieGoGo campaign:
FU_Press Release
I hope you will check us out and support our mission to make sex ed modern, accessible, and fun!
Thank you!

Visual Prompt #2

Recently, I created a very bare skeleton of a character for a new feature. In an effort to flesh out this idea, I collected pictures from the internet for writing prompts. I want to post them to make my writing process transparent. These might be rough, but they are writing exercises. I want to hold less judgment and share more. Please enjoy. DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to these images.


I looked up at those eyes. They know me. How? Whose eyes are in there that I know? Is it mom’s? Suspect they’re hers, since they always look condescending. She never approved of my lifestyle. 

The Speakeasy lets me be my true self. Every night, I strut in wearing an outfit that turns patron’s heads. Regulars critique my outfits. Too bad they are jealous of all my confidence. After my entrance, I sit up at the bar. Let the games really begin. I cannot even greet my bartender without a man sending a drink my way. It is empowering to know all the money I put aside for the bar is really a savings. Wonder what I will need that money for. Anyway, the first man who buys my drink always is a try hard. Some guy who too strong. Definitely need to compensate for something. I accept it. For a few minutes, I chat with the man. My body sends the message of gratitude but disinterest. He always leaves, blaming an early morning of work. Good riddance. Then, a suited gentleman walk in. I never seen him here before. I peacock at the bar, glimpsing over to him. He picks up my invitation to entertain his senses over a few drinks. Out of all the men I have met, this one is different. His suit armors him to take care of a strong woman like myself. He looks like hard work and discipline. Oh, how mother always wanted a man like him for me. I wonder if she got a good look at him on his way inside. 

This man has come from my past. His past mirrors my past, somehow. Although we were on opposite ends of the life spectrum. A man like him looks too good to be from old money. He lacks the arrogance that comes from family greed. He hints that he has moved all over our country. His struggle adds a perspective to life I was never able to have, considering I have always lived in my corner of a metropolis. As the suited gentleman keeps talking, I fall for him. I told myself over and over and over again that I will not fall head first for a man with decency. Mother always warned me about men like him. She thinks I refuse to listen to her, because I doubt her intelligence. That is not true mother. I know there are more men out not like daddy. I attract the type of man that will not treat me for less than my worth. Despite my love at first sight, I control my urge to ask him into my bed. My safe place. I do ask him to walk me to my car. He asks me if I had too much to drink. Of course not. I have a high tolerance. You know you endanger others when you drive drunk. Do you know others endanger me just by existing? Sigh, my man is right. I am in no shape to drive. So, I ask him to wait outside until the fresh air sobers me up. 

Standing outside, her eyes glare down at me. Are they glaring, or is she actually trying to send me a message? She does not look as heated as usual. My calm stomach leads me to believe this is all suppose to happen. Maybe, she’s looking down, asking me to thank her. To thank her for sending me my soulmate. This woman. She always had to do everything for me. She never let me make my own choices. Even in her afterlife, she has to pick a male suitor for me. Fuck. 

Do you think she knows best? 


Mother. I point to the eyes. 

Those eyes are not real. It’s just a neon light fixture. 

It’s like she is telling me something. 

What word is underneath the eyes?


That is her message. Speak easy. 

Oh, how like you. Speak easy. I know what you mean by easy. You always ridiculed me for my love. You cold hearted bitch. You were always jealous that I was more capable of love better than you. I have so much love to share, just like my daddy. But, you hate that. How selfish. What did you ever do to deserve all of the love? NOTHING. You complained, mocked, ridiculed every thing about myself. It is like, she saw parts of herself and him that she felt the need to change. Doesn’t work that way mom.

Visual Prompt #1

Recently, I created a very bare skeleton of a character for a new feature. In an effort to flesh out this idea, I collected pictures from the internet for writing prompts. I want to post them to make my writing process transparent. These might be rough, but they are writing exercises. I want to hold less judgment and share more. Please enjoy. DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to these images.


Goodnight. Close your eyes. Darkness.  I see the squiggles behind the eyes, emulating the light. Stillness. The stomps from your upstairs neighbors break your consideration. You need to be lucid to look for the answers reality has yet to show. Intend for this to happen. It will happen. I ask for a message of protection. You intend to lucid dream, and intend, and intend, and intend. 


You just fell asleep. 

In the dream, the Blessed Mother with a neon blue halo visits. You have no control. For once, losing control feels good. It is truly time to reset. 

The lucid dream is in the living. Sleep to recharge. Wake up in the morning to implement the intended reality. 



Recently, I rediscovered my 55-200mm lens for my camera. I used the lens for most of the pictures from my recent family vacation. Still learning how to manage the focus, but I’m proud of what I took. Let me know which one is your favorite! Some of these pictures are from my iPhone, taken in portrait mode.

Red VS Blue = Yellow

Welcome back! It’s been a long minute since I last posted, but I’m back. The other day, I did a spoken word poetry reading. The moderator assigned us to explore a color. My Libra self couldn’t pick just one color, so here goes my poem. Thank you in advance for reading.


A good ol’ fave

Crimson lips and passion painted fingertips

The color of your cheeks when love touches your lips.




The heat in the kitchen,  It’ll burn if you let it.


Dad asked, “What color do you want your first car to be?”

“Red,” I said.

“Okay, so blue.”


Everyone associates you with the blue.

“It’s in the eyes, Chico.”

Blessed pools from the ocean.




Emotions worn on your sleeve,

that’s how one could describe me.

Please take care, they say.


He called me his Red Devil, but never wanted me as his Blue Angel.

The fire inside sits atop the sea,

burning to a shore

I have yet to explore.

All this Red verses Blue will make you purple.

It is time to mellow.

Consider yourself yellow.

Director’s Statement – The Sirens

When I was a student in film school, my writings always focused around my personal experiences. My professors suggested I get out of my comfort zone. Write something with no creative restrictions. I sucked up all the anxiety, and boom! I created a story of a girl gang of assassins whose job is to kill abusive husbands. From an early age, I always felt interested in girls’ coming of age stories, especially when the girls came from a different background from myself. Growing up in the fifth largest city in the United States with the unique opportunity to attend an all girls high school, my perspective on how women actually interact which is a direct counter from how most forms of media depict female dynamics.  My life has been shaped by the strong women. My short is a thank you to all of them.

The Sirens is a response to the many subliminal messages that women should not stand up to men. My studies in film school focused greatly on this genre of films in college, especially Quentin Tarantino and the rise of comic book films, I found that the women characters lacked depth, lines of dialogue suggesting submissiveness, and messages to women on how they “should” be. Personally, I’m sick of watching these films defining strong female leads. Films like Kill Bill, although it is cinematically beautiful, has tons of subtext surrounding rape and abuse. Harvey Weinsten was the executive producer after all. People love Kill Bill, but why? Why do we as a culture have to love a film that underlines women pitting against each other for the love of a toxic man? I want The Sirens to have a cult following much like Charlie’s Angels or the Powerpuff Girls with the aesthetics of Ghostworld and Death Proof. Much like assassin movies prior, I plan on using wide frames with 50-85mm lens. I would love the color palette to be vivid within dark settings.

As a novice filmmaker, I present these toxic behaviors to engage in a conversation on how as a society can we stop glorifying these traits. This film sheds a light on how this generation of women view domestic violence and abusive behavior in relationships. Tons of films show the depiction of slapping a woman or harming a woman without understand that showing those actions with justification enables the behavior. Creating a film is creating a fantasy. When you look into a filmmaker’s visions of fantasy and see abusive behavior, it sends the message that it is okay to act this way. The Sirens are here to tell everyone it is NOT. It is not okay to be violent towards ANYONE, especially someone who partakes in a romantic relationship with you. The Sirens is a retaliation film against an abusive male gaze. Although there is violence in the film, the girls do not encourage others to be like them. Each one fights an internal battle regarding their relationship with men. It is important that The Sirens show their young female audience what is not okay in a relationship. As a director, I hope that the audience will make an effort after watching the film to bring awareness to helping victims and abusers. Abusers need help, too!

I expects there to be a strong emotional impact from the audience. The girl gang dynamic will make people laugh like they are with their own friends. If people cry, they empathize with the excruciating pain caused by violence. My hopes for the audience’s response is to become aware of how great of an issue domestic violence is and how it effects everyone. This is not just a woman’s issues. The filmmaker encourages the men/boys in the audience to become aware of this toxic behavior and finds way to bring awareness to it from their perspective. As the writer and director, I encourage awareness and forgiveness–to a degree, because situations vary– for abusers. The issue cannot be solved by winded debate but psychological understanding leading to living and depicting healthy relationships. 

Check out the link below to get a better understanding of the image!


A Girl in a Swirl

Once there was a girl, a girl in a swirl, learning to forget her scars.

Her right eye has a little scratch in the deep retina.

It’s from rubbing too rough.

So, she was born into this world with scars. A Good thing this, she is a fighter.

Once there was a girl, a girl in a swirl, learning to forget her scars.

Recess on the playground. Well, the playground was a parking lot. Kids were born to stay in one place playing along with each other. Forming a circle.

The girl peered on desperately dreaming of one day playing along in the circle. Little did she know.

Once there was a girl, a girl in a swirl, learning to forget her scars.

Now the girl enters her teens. She has all the requirements for a blossom. She digs scratches not her skin. Creating scars.

Girl studies the lines imbedded in her palms. Why can she not understand their patters?

The girl stands in the center of the circle. Once children, now teens surround her, dancing in chains. They point their pointers and giggle. The giggles send sinister vibrations into the girl’s scars and lines.

One member of the circle sa-shes in closer, her demons hum “If you fall, I will catch you. No matter what.”

Once there was a girl, a girl in a swirl, learning to forget her scars.

Through the gaga promenade, sun radiates. The gate, where the girl once stood looking into this very spot, collapses.

A voice orates me to get out. Nerves keep the girl still from the call.

Then, she takes a fall.

No one caught her.

Once there was a girl, a girl in a swirl, learning to forget her scars.

Cracks in the ground provide support to the teary teen.

The dancers through rocks and kick her tummy. Scars run deeper into the skin.

Sun sets. Moon shines a motherly light onto her.

All the scars will fade in the light, mother moon promises. It is time to rise with the sin.

While the circle rests, the girl tiptoes passing all the whirlwind.She understands the wheel of fortune and the change.

At the fallen gate, the girl takes a one last look back then runs.

Once there was a girl, a girl in a swirl, who learned to heal her scars. The girl become a divine woman.