Category Archives: Dreams

Derailed. Six Weeks Later…

It’s been six weeks since my last post. According to my original timeline, I should have completed the project five weeks ago. It was ten weeks ago that I found out about what happened to her. It’s been ten weeks since I learned my daughter had been the victim of a very serious physical assault at the hands of her then boyfriend. It’s been ten weeks since I felt remotely close to being “myself.”

He went to jail. My daughter is safe and recovering from the trauma. I have been through a lot in my life, but nothing as horrifying as what she went through. I wish I could have traded her places and spared her the pain. I have never felt so much rage or sorrow in my life. I have never experienced such deep feelings of utter futility and inadequacy.

On the other hand, I am in awe of Hannah’s resilience and at the way everyone has come forward to voice their support for her. I would like to thank the Salt Lake County D.A.’s office and the fine men and women of the South Jordan police department. This is the first time in my life that everyone has surpassed my expectations and acted on behalf of someone I loved to the best of their abilities.

Hannah and I would not have made it through these last ten weeks without the constant support from my parents, my siblings (especially Nan and Erika), our friends, and most of all, Hannah’s dad, Shaun.

Next week Hannah leaves for the summer away with my family. She’ll be spending time with people who love her and can help her to accomplish some of the goals she’s laid out for herself. I will be resuming my quest to “shuck the superfluous shit.” I will miss her terribly, and it may prove to be too much — who knows, maybe I’ll join her — but for now, I am happy for her. I am so proud of her. She is becoming the woman she was meant to become.

And to Hannah, I love you. Be safe. Be brave. Be joyful. — love, mom.


Filed under Dreams, Moving On

I am going to make a fancy jar… We’ll fill it full of dreams, money and intention

I am going to get a big Mason Jar. Like the ones my mom ket raisins in. They had about a one gallon capacity. I am going to invite Hannah to join me in writing down all our hopes and dreams to put in the jar with any change in our pockets at the end of the day. Sound fun? It does to me.


And one last thing. We CAN’T FORGET to keep on laughing!!

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Filed under Dreams, Moving On, Purging Possessions

The Most Interesting Man I Know (Besides My Dad)

You never know who you might be sitting next to in an English class in High School.

I have a friend who tells stories. That’s not all he does, but his story telling is what has him on my mind this month. As you know, I have been writing and talking a LOT about telling the truth. Not just telling the truth about who left the apartment building door ajar, but telling YOUR truth. Your stories. Your experiences.

Matt Holdaway has always marched to the beat of his own drum. I can still see him loping down the halls of our high school in Rexburg, Idaho, dressed in black. He wore black before black was cool. He was a “New Waver” in a town of cowboys. He was cheerful in a school full of overly serious teens. His easy laugh, which borders on a giggle, was infectious.

Fast forward 20 years and it is Matt Holdaway who makes the greatest effort to keep all us misfit toys from Rexburg together. He flies through Salt Lake on his way to visit his dad and makes sure we all get together. I know he does the same once he reaches that Idaho burg of frozen windswept wasteland.

Matt holds a special place in my teenage heart. He took a picture of me playing the flute in Temple Square, 1990, which, to this day, I believe is the prettiest photo ever taken of me. It captures exactly who I was and how I felt — innocent and sad. He is also one of the few friends I have who ever got to meet my Grandmother Bates. I love her so much, for some reason its comforting he met her.

After high school, most of us misfits from Idaho relocated to the “big city,” AKA, Salt Lake City. Matt started a magazine. It was really more of a booklet of photocopies stapled together. He would print stories, artwork, songs and more that his friends had created. He printed a couple of my songs. The rags were called, “A Multitude of Voices.” As far as I know, he still produces them.

He would also organize huge events he called “A Night of Voices.” The lineup for the evenings would include everything from pantomime to poetry. Looking back, it was a hell of thing to pull off for a kid from Rexburg, newly transplanted in Salt Lake. He was my artistic conscience a lot of the time. I know I was more aware of being truthful in my songwriting when I knew he’d be listening.

Eventually Matt moved to the Bay Area. We haven’t been the kind of friends who check in on each other weekly, monthly or even yearly, but we are true friends. And here is why he is the Most Interesting Man I Know:

  1. Matt tells stories. He doesn’t simply relate an anecdote. He spins a good yarn. When Matt tells a story, everyone within earshot is caught up in it. He is HILARIOUS.
  2. Matt loves people. He loves to find interesting people and introduce them to each other. He has found the ultimate vehicle for this with his weekly radio show, “Radio Voices” which is broadcasted at 104.1 fm on Sundays from 2pm to 4pm in San Francisco, Oakland and Berkeley. You can also tune in via the web.
  3. Matt lives and works in a digital world, but his brain is analog. To that end, his life is indexed and annotated manually. He has the most elaborate, yet simple, method of keeping track of his wild machinations. I fear revealing the specifics of his secret will leave him vulnerable to attack, though, so I will refrain.
  4. Matt is a super hero. (Hence my reticence to divulge his method of organization) He is Storm Shadow of the California Cobras. Watch closely, or you’ll miss him. That’s how ninja-like he is:
  5. Matt does all this AND holds down a real-life, actual, career-type, job-job.
  6. Matt has invented his own genre of music. It’s called “Story Rock.” And it rules. His band is called, Matt Holdaway’s Army. You can download some of his stuff through iTunes. You can find him on Rhapsody. And on ReverbNation. And seriously, how much does Matt kick ass?:

So, yeah, Matt’s pretty f***ing cool. But what do I REALLY love about Matt? What is the thing that makes him the Most Interesting Man I Know? He tells the truth. Always. To everyone. He’s not afraid of what the truth will do to anyone. And he does it with a pure heart. Maybe mischievous. Sometimes salacious. but never malicious.

I have been preoccupied, as of late, with what to do next. This 101 day project is coming to a close, for better or for worse, in just 13 days. (Look for big updates!) With all I’ve been ruminating on truth, excess, healthy habits and letting go, I’ve been at a loss as to which of my interests will bare the closest scrutiny. What “voice” of mine is the loudest?  As of today, I have finally decided.

At the end of this 101 day project I will close this site and leave it as a standalone reminder of a journey I took to remember who I really was. The blog I will begin, on the first day of spring, will be about The Truth. I will tell my truth. I will ask others to tell theirs. I will talk about what “truth” means. I hope to discuss with everyone the truth about control, habits, possessions and love. I hope this can be done largely through stories. I’m going to need help, but I’m excited.

So THANK YOU, Matt Holdaway, for being such a good friend, for always telling the truth and for helping me find the next step on my path. You rule. Gooooooooooooo, Bobcats!

Still want more? Subscribe to Matt’s YouTube Channel.

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Filed under 101 Day Project, Dreams, Moving On

A Poem Written 12 Years Ago Today

March 5, 2000

Barely breathing.
Rude. Loud. voices below– bellowing–

700 times down this trip before–
Different Destination.
Same Damn Thing.
But I’ve changed my name, or my
Or maybe it’s the spilled coffee that did it.
Or maybe I’m the power &
Louder & Closer & Further
From the Depot or the outlet or the end.

700 times down this hill before.
Different form of
Will the spot we end up put us right where we were–
with the nets and the bats and the
or will this road go somewhere
where the orange and the blue and the hues don’t
to brown.

She said that.

Not quite that way, but that’s what she meant and

700 times down this river before. but maybe
oh maybe
I won’t be swallowed up.
Maybe I’ll be followed and hallowed like
or Buddha or…
Maybe there are just too many of us–
fighting & Biting & Groping & Hoping for
or a Chance.

700 times up this WALL before.
but Maybe, just Maybe
this time’s Different from the last
or the first
or the worst
in a group of contestants and I
At least I never meant to– but there I go with the
Banner and the Crown.

Keep it together. Keep It together.

700 times in this boat before–
or was it smaller then, with more
and more tolls and more reasons to stay
Instead I’m battling and paddling as hard as I can…
till the blood

And the moths cover the lights every summer no matter what You do.

700 Miles and 2 left to go. Could be 3, could be more.
When I get there should I
keep. on. driving?
Or do I stop and get out-
stretch my legs and my
Cut your gift or just sit — on the grass. This place.
So familiar, but I always go back. to the moment,
or the house, or to you.

700 times in this spot before… perched precariously on the ledge.
The sign says “no jumping” but look at those
down below.

700 times up this tree before
like a
A Cat whose just waiting to be saved, then scratches and bites at its savior…
It’s like being afraid of the Dentist even though you know it won’t hurt…
or at least it won’t hurt

700 times in this swing before–
going back and forth between lives–
But i start to think I’ve been chained to this swing,
Nailed to its Cross Braces,
Glued to its seat.
Believing when hearing, “You’re much too important to come down off that swing, much too valuable to be walking!” or
running or driving or rising
this ridiculous playground.

700 times on this roof before
shouting Nonsense to those below.
Screaming swear words and trying to Sing… like
but the Holliday’s aren’t here. It’s not time for
breaking out the silver and the

700 times at this fork in the road.
or was it a knife?
Because that’s what it felt like when it happened.
The Pain of Decision or In-Decision.

And still they INSIST on making all that noise outside.

700 times in this skin before–
But it’s tougher and rougher and
than before. Or at least more determined to
Push off these shores and find more.

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Sometimes Tumblr Kids Show Us Cool Stuff


Tumble with me. 🙂

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One Guy, One Bike. Canada to Mexico.

This is an truly inspiring story from Lesley Carter’s Blog. I want to do something this gutsy.

Reaffirming My Faith in Humanity, One Pedal at a Time (Part Two): San Francisco to Mexico.

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What’s your Passion? –from

I love Elana’s post on passion. Here it is. Go here to comment!

What’s your Passion? …

by Elena


What’s your Passion? ….

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