Make me your queen.

Forever, you’re my king.

The throttle of my needs,

The pulse of my hunger.

Your sweet scent fills my mind

And I wander. Wander into your fields

To stay.

To stay.

To stay.

Forever you’re my king,

Make me your queen.

It’s never too late for change

Change is something we read about in magazines and ponder often in our alone time. It’s elusive and unpredictable at times, other times it’s completely out of our control because someone else needs to change. Relationships end in a stalemate or evolve because of change (or a lack thereof). Even in nature, change is an obvious necessity. Society has many cliches and phrases to encourage, excuse, pardon, or shame change. One that comes to mind for me today is “it’s never too late to change.”

My mother and I have had a hard few years. We haven’t seen eye to eye on many things in the world and that has caused a fair amount of discord between us. Neither of us want to see things the way we do and see them like that on our own, we want agreement and solidarity in our unique perspectives about the world. But we just couldn’t see it like that together. We had a wall. A wall built out of years of disappointments and misjudgments, bricks made of injustices served too long ago, and resentment cemented the wall strongly into place. Until something changed. I don’t know what exactly, or even when, but slowly and steadily the wall between us began to change. The arguments became less frequent. The impatience with each other changed to intent to understand. The misunderstandings became fewer and farther between. And then Christmas 2014 came. I think our Berlin Wall fell that day. We were no longer a divided force, but united for the first time in my recollection. My mom wanted my son and I to fly home for Christmas. She would pay and it was our gift from her to us. I am 35 years old and have lived out of state my entire adult life. My mother had never paid for me to come home nor tried to help pay for me to come home. It seemed in some ways, that she would rather I didn’t come home and until recently, I was just fine with that. Until the wall fell. It was the solitary most sincere act of generosity I have ever felt from my mother. When we were visiting we spent a lot of time talking. We didn’t do too much of the “doing” but a lot of the “being”. It was a much needed respite from the usual stresses of travel. In my visit home, I played a board game with my mother. From start to finish. We played Scrabble. Can you imagine the flood of emotions I felt when I realized that was the first time I had ever played a game with my mother ever in my entire life?! Ever. First game. Did I mention I am 35 years old? It was evident to me in that moment that the tides of change were certainly upon us.

Our arguments and struggle were not for naught but for the purpose of sorting our differences. Sure, some fights and arguments can bring an end to some relationships and things will cold over for a long time, but ours were for purpose. I look forward to the years we have in our future as mother and daughter. I hope the rubble of our fallen wall is carted away with each new memory. In its place, I pray for an orchard of love and gladness that will nourish our relationships for years to come. I am grateful for the change in our relationship and I am hopeful for our future.

Maybe the cement in that old wall wasn’t so strong after all, or maybe love was stronger.

Forever changed,

The Repressed Peach


I wonder what causes us to think, speak and act from a superficial level in life. I mean, something so ordinary as driving down the street thinking of situations and patterns in my life cause me to move to a different level of consciousness. Do I usually operate from a place of convenience and comfort? Is my brain uninspired by ordinary? Do I lack the intellect to discover curiosity in my daily life? I like to think the answer is that I find inspiration and curiosity while also possessing the intellectual capacity for such, but I can’t be so sure.

My superficial functioning was just catapulted at the wall for a moment as I came to a possible, yet fleeting, realization that I look for hope in the most unusual places. Relationships that can’t be what a relationship really should be; work that is satisfying yet grueling in its own way; dreams and ideals that are limited by various obstacles including my own perceptions. You see? Why do I think like this and operate like I do yet somehow manage to operate on autopilot? It seems counterintuitive.

As I realized that I look for hope in the most hopeless situations I nearly broke down in tears. Why do I do this? What motivates me? Is this a habit I have? Am I limited or liberated? I don’t know the answers to these questions although I have a hint as to two things that may be behind it all: I’m a hopeless (ironic?) romantic and an eternal optimist.

I don’t know what any of this actually means. I don’t know if any of it makes a difference. I don’t know if any of it even matters a lick. I just know that going through my day and not having even a single intellectual, stimulating thought doesn’t seem much like life at all. I want to know stuff, I want to be curious and thoughtful, every day. I want to be alive and well while living an engaging life that’s full of wonder and experience. To me, that’s life. Not living on the surface and being “comfortable” while ignoring all that goes on in and around me. I am frustrated even thinking about such a drab existence!

Superficial functioning will cease. Discovery, wonder, and hope will thrive. I will be alive all the rest of my days. Living, loving, and engaging with all I can while creating hope in the most hopeless places no matter how silly it may be.

Hopefully yours,

The Repressed Peach

Attraction and Success

Attraction is such a complex phenomenon. Different scientific approaches claim everything from natural chemical processes to an innate nature in finding someone who is a good mate for reproductive purposes! Attraction is essentially vital to the existence of mankind. Men and women alike will state their claim about which feature they find most attractive in their intended mate; eyes, lips, chin shape, sultry scents, muscle tone, height, breast size, penis size, intelligence, compassion, sense of humor, laugh… The list goes on.

But what really constitutes attraction? I know arguments can be had for any of the above mentioned features, but does that explain the alleged attraction of a sports fan who swoons over an athlete? For instance, last night the San Antonio Spurs clinched the NBA Finals in a remarkable victory over the Miami Heat. As I read through the numerous Facebook posts and comments in the corresponding threads I noticed one trend: women claiming their stake over any said Spurs basketball player. It was phenomenal! I mean like die-hard female fans of the San Antonio Spurs who were sure they were going to be wed to the champions at any given second! I couldn’t believe it! So, naturally, I had to inquire further. These women couldn’t really be betrothed to a Spurs player, could they? And much to my satisfaction, after an appropriate amount of trolling, I find that not a single lady was in relation with any of the players. So that led me to ask the following question: why do women swoon after successful athletes?

As I thought this thought, it dawned on me in the exact same moment that it is because the athlete is a perceived success!! Ah ha!! I’ve got it by golly! Success is attractive! Isn’t that true? Don’t we seek out successful people and desire to make their acquaintance? I don’t know that it matters what your gender is or your sexual orientation, successful people make us desire something! A whole new set of characteristics are perceived regardless of the person’s appearance, their scent, or any other physical characteristic…a champion of anything is instant heart-pounding, molten desire!

If success weren’t a determining factor, consider this… Surely there are a many number of athletes who are good looking by all physical accounts, yet they aren’t considered successful for a variety of reasons. Surely these good-looking men and women are successful, as they are professional athletes, and they are surely in normal, happy, healthy relationships with their partners (or we will safely assume). So, why don’t women swoon and clamor for their attention too?They aren’t publicly successful and aren’t publicly accessible. So, I maintain that success is the ultra-feature. Success is the one characteristic (which is ultimately made up of many) in a human being that makes us feel all the things we don’t feel when someone is simply attractive to us. Success is the determining factor. Who doesn’t like successful people in their life? Who doesn’t like to be successful themselves? I, personally, prefer success over any other external or internal characteristic. As I tell my students in class, “Be amazing in all that you do; just be amazing!”

Successfully yours,

The Repressed Peach


We are in a culture of citizens who have become increasingly more inclined to create happiness for others. Web pages have been created to honor and inspire generosity and kindness. Starbucks patrons are sure to be the beneficiary of a random act of the car in front of them at the drive thru purchasing their early morning coffee and pastry stop. Organizations are even being formed all in an effort to increase happiness, spread joy, expand communities, and inspire love. The world isn’t all violence, hate, and political persuasion. We actually have hometown heroes all around us who inspire wondrous acts of generosity for no other reason than to be a source of goodness in the world.

I am completely on board with this philosophy. Life is beautiful. All around us we see amazing creations and obstacles overcome by the best of under dogs. I believe in celebrating these triumphs in humanity. I also believe in finding good when sometimes the obvious is so glaringly ugly and foul. So, finding joy and inspiring happiness when it isn’t easily found is what I love to do.

Now here’s the idea. A baby in development, and mere twinkle in my hazel eye and endearing heart: RAK Network. A network of volunteers who have time and are willing to provide needed services and support when it’s least likely and most inconvenient to be found. Random Acts of Kindness Network would be a hotline of sorts where people could call in for others who they see have a need. For instance, I was driving to work one day and noticed a vehicle on the side of the road. This, in itself, is not unusual as we have many abandoned cars on our city roadways, but this time it was different: a young mother and two school uniform clad children stood next to this malfunctioning vehicle waiting to cross a busy highway. It was also well after 8:00 am when most elementary schools have already begun their day therefore making the children late for their school day. This family needed a ride from a friendly person with space for all the children and time to spare to ensure everyone got to where they needed to go. If it hadn’t been so busy on the highway, I would’ve slowed to a stop and offered help, but it would’ve been incredibly dangerous for everyone if I had. Thus, the idea for RAKNet was born. How wonderful would it be to call a hotline and tell the dispatcher what service is needed and where at any given time? Not all needs could be met and not all services would be available all the time but at least there would be more options. And those options would be free. Free to call. Free to receive. Free to inspire and share joy in the face of uncertain and unfortunate times. A time when humanity can step up to the plate and change the life of just one person for just a few moments. I believe with all of my heart that this is a feasible idea. I need resources though; many of them, mostly people though. Volunteers. Artists. Inspired people with a heart for helping for no other reward than being a good person. So RAKNet is my baby and will start slowly in my community. And then after RAKNet San Antonio is up and running full speed then I will expand to other communities.

We all need something to believe in. We need to believe in God or in a god; we need to believe there is good in the world; we need to know we aren’t alone in life; we need to know that even the worst of the worst moments will pass sooner rather than later; and sometimes, all we need to believe is that for just one minute someone somewhere in the world loves us. RAKNet will be the source of those fleeting moments of love and will inspire joy and hope everywhere it goes.

With joy and love,
The Repressed Peach


Failure hasn’t ever been one of those things that I managed well. Sure, I always lost with grace and class, but failure is contrary to my soul. I don’t like it. The taste is bitter. The tears ache as they exit my eyes and singe the tender peach fuzz of my cheeks as they roll so slowly down. Molten lava. I avoid failure as often as absolutely possible. I go to excruciating lengths in order to prevent as many foreseeable failures as possible.

My marriage failed and I lost my family.

I fought hard. I fought harder at keeping my marriage and my family than I have ever fought for anything before. Yet, tonight as I tuck my nine year old son into bed, I cry along side him as he weeps and misses his father with whom he just spent the weekend. He cries for snuggles next to his papa. He longs for our family bed where he slept his entire babyhood cradled between mom and dad. He longs for nights when mom and dad take turns hugging him and tucking him in with his goodnight songs and prayers.

Instead, I wipe away tears and hold the tissue for him as he blows his nose. I hug him close to me as he cries his tender eyes out. His face is red and blotchy. His nose is flared and swollen from crying and breathing so hard. His chin wrinkles and the usual smile lines that surround his youthful cheeks turn upside down into the saddest frown you’ve ever cried for.


This time, I didn’t just fail to keep a family together, I failed to keep my son happy and free from the pain of a broken home. I had my reasons and yes they were, and still are, very valid; it doesn’t seem to change the pain within the heart of a nine year old boy whose father is his idol.

I would suffer a thousand years and longer to prevent this pain from tarnishing my son’s beautiful heart. I would take every tear drop, every sad thought, every lonely moment, every wish left unfulfilled and make them all my own if I knew it would heal his broken heart. Oh the things I would do to save him this heartache.


More painful than ever before…this is definitely not what I planned nor wanted for my son’s life. Not for my own either, I might add, but hell, I’m grown and can take care of my own issues. My son, however, relies on his parents to take care of these things.

Failure will never be acceptable to me. I know I will fail many more times in life. God willing, He will walk beside me and see me through, but I pray and pray diligently, that no other failure will be this hard. I pray that no other failure causes such deep sadness for my boy.

Expressly yours,

The Repressed Peach

The tired mind

I wonder how many people come up with ludicrous thoughts and images after they’ve become overtired. Is it just me who thinks of horror monsters coming alive and sleepwalking through my bedroom or evil masterminds lurking in the shadows of my tiny apartment? I hate watching scary shows or movies anymore because my mind is too tender. I have sleepless nights imagining the demise of innocent people simply because of the edgy graphic images deposited in my brain from a recent episode of some crime show. I am a woman of faith and spirituality, but I find myself plagued with a tumult of images flipping through my mind as a slideshow as soon as I become overtired. Reminiscent of my postpartum days. As a single mom, I have a multitude of reasons to be conscientious of our safety, and thankfully, nothing has happened to us. Nonetheless, I feel myself shrink a bit more every time a vicious scene crawls through my mind as the wee hours tick closer to daylight. I need peace and safety as well as constant surety of those two things.

So here’s to a late night and being overtired. Slideshow will stop. Every unknown sound will fade into the silence and sleep will overcome my body. To sleep. To peace. To good rest.

Good night.

Hopefully yours,
The Repressed Peach