Rosie Glow Wellness

Mind body health for the deeply fabulous


Future People


Found here. If you know the artist, holler at me.

Happy Monday, you beautiful babies. I have, as of yet, no plans for this post — in the seams of my guts and marrow, the chromosomes to make me a lady with intent were stitched in as a merciful afterthought, which makes for an often fun but not always fruitful way to live. So. This should be wild.

Along those wiggly lines, I’m trying to be more specific about my heart’s desires lately. I’ve always vaguely wanted to be somewhat known in the creative circles of my city, but that’s not a destination, it’s just a vanity plate, you know? #cartalk Pointedly, I want to write personal essays and I want to pick the impressive brains of my colleagues and successful acquaintances like an Egyptian plover picks at the rot on a crocodile’s lateral incisors. Look it up, dude. Oh, and I want to weave those wants together and make a happy, thoughtful little life. Now the trick is to somehow make my supposed life’s work a priority, even though my fabulous job-job is demanding and it’s summer and everyone just wants to hang out/make out. Distraction City, U.S.A. But life is rife with beautiful distractions, no?

It’s all part of it. By that I mean, everything we react to shapes us. For some reason, that ambiguous thought always brings me comfort. If I’m hurting or feeling like my scenery isn’t changing quickly enough, I tell myself “it’s all part of it.” And I start to hear a Kelly Clarkson anthem in my inner ear and I remember that every truly tough thing that hasn’t killed me thus far has, indeed, made me stronger.

This weekend, I asked a friend what she was like when she was 23 years old. The impetus for that question was weird and twisty and not meant for the internet, but her answer was “naive,” and then she explained herself and my head exploded. Just think of how much we’ve all grown — and what causes growth. Hurt causes growth, and feeling like your scenery isn’t changing quickly enough. And feeling like you, personally, are not enough… It’s all part of it.

When I stop flapping my arms/jaw for a hot minute and meditate on who I am, I realize that I’m exactly who I wanted to be four or five years ago. I wasn’t mature enough at the time to factor things like money savvy and wanton courage into my visualizations, but I’m making up for that now so future me is more fleshed out than “Works in artistic field. Has freedom to roam and purple hair. Doesn’t play the victim card. Doesn’t have an eating disorder.” And that’s what I suppose planning is good for — fleshing out future you.

Because it’s Monday and feelgood vibes are in order, let’s acknowledge how far we’ve come. Because I’m maybe 50% more of a badass than I was a few short years ago, so my capital growth looks damn promising.



Update, Yo


Summer look by Deladeso.

Oh HI! I know I promised I’d be back here weekly, but I was full of shit. Well-meaning, sparkly shit, but shit nonetheless. A reader of mine had actually agreed to pay me to write down my own thoughts in my own (well-meaning, sparkly) tone, which is undoubtedly the most benevolent proposition I have ever received, barring the time that a man living under the bridge at North and Ashland offered to braid my hair in exchange for… letting him touch my hair. In both instances, something felt off, though. In regards to the latter overture: I am somewhat attached to my hair and its proximity to my head. In regards to the former: this out of date blog is no longer a super accurate representation of who I am as a writer and a human, and the overhaul it deserves will take time I don’t currently have.

So basically, I’m not ready for your generosity, kind reader. But I’m ready for your generosity, Universe. Holla atcha gurl. Here are some life happenings, of late, and my input on them. FREE OF CHARGE.

– It struck me the other day that I haven’t focused on self care in almost a year. Trust me, I’m not suffering. My “office” yesterday was poolside. (And I pulled off my most successful yogic handstand ever. And I got lunch with my mama. And I was elected Education and Outreach Co-Chair of this rad organization. And I had BAND PRACTICE. So like… I’m okay.) But, if you poke around this corner of the internet at all, you’ll realize that my particular brand of self care entails making stuff. Stuff with words. Stuff with my hands. Stuff that is only for me and occasionally the internet at large. So on Sunday, I didn’t check my email at all and I painted my room in my underwear — an illicit shade of teal that breaks my lease agreement but reminds me of the Hell pit apartment I shared with my college best friend on the second floor of a chicken wing palace known as Buff Joe’s. And I was so, so happy… not only to be in possession of a blue bedroom, but to have done something by myself, for myself, that made me feel capable.

– I’m slowly but surely learning to trust myself, which is the secret key to setting boundaries, I think. I trust that if I’m burnt out, it will behoove everyone for me to take a break. I trust that if I’m feeling a feeling, I should try to honor it because it’s rooted in truth. Because I’m a goddamn lady. With an INTUITION. And my 27 years on Earth have afforded me the privilege to be discerning with how I spend my energy.

– On that note, I don’t have to immediately jump on every opportunity that comes hurdling my way; via men under bridges, anonymous blog benefactors, etc. etc. etc. I’m building something — a life, and a nebulous empire (new band name: Nebulous Empire), which takes a while. You know? And said opportunities are never truly lost if we remain open to them.

So. Here I am. Open to opportunity, tryna live my best life, dreaming up next steps but not necessarily taking them right away. Where you at? What are you up to? TELL ME YOUR STORIES I MISS THE HECK OUT OF YOU.