I’ve come to the conclusion—having been in the desert wild for the last 6 months now—that everyone here is running from something. And by “running” I don’t necessarily mean in the literal sense, like “running from the law,” although, and you didn’t hear this from me, but I did happen to hear that apparently there was a love triangle between the present controller of a nearby property, the former controller, and the executive administrative assistant that allegedly resulted in the former controller being found dead by the pool. “Heart attack,” is what the official record says, but I heard—and of course I wasn’t here so I can’t be sure but—rumor has it, the admin assassin, I mean assistant, has a background in plant molecular biology so my mind immediately goes to poison, and that’s what the 411 is saying. AND apparently her 2nd cousin is the coroner. Word around town is she offed the one to be with the other, but the coroner found “no evidence of foul play.” How convenient. Now I ain’t one to gossip. I just mind my own never mind, so you ain’t hear nothing from me but that sound suspicious as all Tom Fuq & Foolery!

As for everyone else round these here parts, well, they’re all running from something. That’s for certain. Or looking for a whole lotta nothin. Me included. Not in a bad way though. But you come to the desert to get away or to run away. For me, maybe it’s a bit of both. I needed a fresh start, a clean slate, a refuge from the people and places that—well, you already know. But here in the desert, everyBuddy’s got a past…

Oh, how beautiful it is to get paid to do what I love for fun! I always have the best adventures and seem to meet the most interesting people. Or could it be that everyone we meet is interesting if only, perhaps, we’d just show a little interest? Idk. That sounds too much like right.

I been seeing some fyne shytes walkin’ around, but the kid can’t holla. You nooooooottttt finna catch me slippin. You’re not coming to my birthday party!

Anyways, a Queen like me, anyBuddy I’m seen with automatically gets a spotlight and suddenly everyone wants to know the tea. Well let me be the first to tell you. It’s always pipin’ hot honey! Ok?! No, but seriously, I get it. It is me. And I love me too. And love does soften you. To yourself and to the world. Not that you walk around all wide open and naive to the ways of the things, but you don’t close yourself off to it. You keep yourself open to the possibilities and you allow grace and space and room for growth. You hold people and yourself to a higher standard, but you accept shortcomings for exactly what they are. And that doesn’t just come from romantic love. This comes through love of Self. Love of the One.

I’ve done a lot of different things in my life. I posted a video the other day talking about my life—an experience—as a server, and while serving and bartending was something I did by night up til and throughout grad school & beyond to make extra & save money, I also worked as a teacher and teaching artist during the day for over a decade. And I was an actor, of course. Shall I make my return to the stage? Is it time, darlings? Spotlight for one!

I liked working with kids. I liked introducing them to and broadening their horizons when it came to the world of theater. You meet a lot of different people that way too. Different families. Different uprbingings. Different walks of life. I’ve walked a mile in many different shoes fr. And I think my own upbringing trained me early on to navigate different types of people and personalities. Like every family, we had our issues, and heaven knows, we were nowhere near perfect, but I look back on that time with fondness for the dedication and commitment to family, even they didn’t know how it was gonna turn out. Somehow, we always ended up having enough. And we always had each other. It wasn’t until I went away to college and got an up close look at my parent’s financials that I was like, “Dang, my parents would be rich of they didn’t have any kids!” Haha. Or maybe they are rich because of it?

I know we love to say—and by “we” I mean me. Kids. Adults. Every person who was ever born!—I didn’t ask to be born! And while that is true, that doesn’t negate the sacrifices that were made to make sure that you were taken care of. And you reach a certain point in life where your path, your choices, are your responsibility. You don’t like something? Change it. You want better? Don’t just do better. Be better.

I had dinner the other night with 6 journalists from all over Europe. Literally. I think they spanned all the main hubs. Anyways, we had a grand old time chatting and carrying on, and, as we were eating, I noticed something unique. They all ate in the same way, holding their fork turned down in their left hand and knife in the right. Proper dining etiquette. Do they teach that in school there? I’m not trying to be funny and hold no judgment. I genuinely thought (and still think) it was the most curious thing. Does everyone know how to do that? How come I’ve never noticed it before? Or maybe I just happened to catch everyone at a synchronous moment. You all know what I’m talking about, right? I know we weren’t taught in school, though I did take a course on it in one of my model training classes. But what can I say? I guess I ain’t pageant material.

It’s funny looking back because even though my parents didn’t let me go on to pursue that path in undergrad, my mom was always adamant I partook in those activities, like she knew the world would always see my beauty first before my brains and judge me for it, both in good & bad ways, so she made sure I had something in my arsenal. Ironically when I went to college and took acting classes anyway (I minored in theatre), my mentor always yelled at me, “DO YOU WANNA BE JUST ANOTHA PRETTY FACE ON THE STAGE?!” A line that will reverberate in my subconscious for all of eternity, but story for another day.

Sophomore year of high school my mom put me in this African dance class taught by someone from Kent State. I forget who it was, but, if you’re reading this… 🤓 I was SO against it! I was like, “Mother, I’m an actor! I’m not a dancer!” Haha. and it ended up being some of the best fun I had all high school. Taught me how to wine me hips! Dip it low & pick it up slow, although the Arab sisters had a hand in that too! Also ironically, I ended up using a few of those moves in a class presentation in that same acting class with aforementioned mentor. All that to say, sometimes it’s the things we don’t wanna do that end up leaving us with some of the best memories. I would show you pictures but…

*The Sun is eclipsed by the Moon. Credit: NASA*

There’s a new TikTok drama I got wrapped up in. Don’t even ask me what it’s about because I don’t know I just know it’s good! Haha and they piss me off so bad because they know exactly what they’re doing with the perfectly timed cliffhangers that keep you scrolling on to the next tokisode. I’m done TikTok! You hear me? Done! You got me once! (Twice) You’re not gonna get me again! (Get me again. 3rd time’s a charm 😉)

And because this wouldn’t be a Woosah without a little Wind Down (I didn’t forget), let’s close our time together with some tranquil aromatherapy to drift us off into our day or night, wherever we may be. Since I love all things smell goods, I wanna take a moment to highlight an incredible artisan whose candle making course I had the pleasure of participating in, Ian Klay from Klays Essential Creations. The class was held in the gorgeous gorgeous Gold Rush Room at the Inn* at Death Valley.

We got to choose our own bases and mixers, flowers, essential oils, and different mica powders for shimmers/colorings.

And then, once you have all your ingredients together, she comes around with hot wax, and, starting with the base & mixer, you stir everything all together in the metal pitcher, and while its still warm, you pour it into your glass mold, adding flowers (if you have that for accoutrements!) throughout or waiting to top em off at the end.

Pics of my final creation aren’t loading for some reason, but it’s probably for the best. My candle was looking real nice wit it. I wouldn’t wanna make any of the other candles jealous, you know? Anyways, shout out Ian for an awesome class and amazing smelling candle! Although, for that, I should be thanking myself for my sensuous custom blend. No you caHn’t have the recipe, but you caHn find Ian’s handcrafted creations at her site linked above, or catch one of her weekly classes at Amangiri* Resort.

*classes limited to guests of the property

Now that I’m filthy stinking rich seemingly overnight, my financial advisor has me in these money & emotions courses. That’s what I call them anyway. I forget the exact name. Anyway, they’re these courses designed to walk you through exactly what it sounds like: your money & your emotions. What I realized during part one—it’s a 5 part harmony. A 5 PART HARMONY!—is that none of this information was new information. I had taken similar courses like that before in my peasant days. And really the only difference now is that I have more money to manage, but the basic principles will always be the same regardless of amount. And that’s when it dawned on me that everything everyone had been saying all along is true: you make the money, the money doesn’t make you. So whatever beliefs, habits, ideas, you had around money prior to wealth will carry over when wealth comes if, along with other areas of your life, you don’t reframe your thinking & upgrade your actions to accommodate. And that’s all I’ma say because, I will gladly take a match my emotions to my wealth management class to manage my wealth properly, and attunely, and won’t complain about it one bit, thank ya Lordt!

Alright My Pretties, and with that I need to go say my p’s and sip my tea. Wherever you are, wherever you may be, you could be anywhere in the world, but here you are with me. And I love that for you. And I love that even more for me. I hope you know how blessed you are this week. And stay that way, will ya? If you so please. I’ll see you soon. God speed!

Love always (& besitos!)

fee fie foe fum

fight for your right