My dearest Pot, I am nothing without you. Please come home. Love, The Black Kettle

These people are responsible for it all. Every moment of happiness, joy, doubt and everything in between. They are my creators. Not only could I not exist on a physical plane without them, they are my supporters and my friends, I could not exist on any plane without them.

My brother, my best friend and inspiration, with the product of the two most amazing people I know.

Hey, remember me? The girl who loves to write? Yeah, neither do I. A fucking distant memory, that girl. The faint memories I have; however, consist of her rambling constantly on a blog with no followers, while at the same time keeping a constant stream of 4-bar rap lyrics on tap. Where the fuck did that bitch go? HAS ANYONE SEEN MALIBU???? I know they have Amber and Silver alerts, but can someone seriously put out a fucking WOODROW BLUE ALERT? How is it possible that verbal and/or literary creativity can elude one so? Well here we are folks, the apocalypse of my verbal mind. So much has transpired in my life since last I publicized it, but so little has made it's way from my (sub)conscious to existence in the form of writing. I have transgressed, regressed and then subsequently progressed. I have experienced times of complacency which lead to times of indecency ultimately leading to a time of contentment. I have undergone loss and experienced the most precious gains. The gains of a life already in existence, the one that is meant to coexist with mine. As well as the gain of a new life. A new, and most incredible gain. A new human with whom I share blood. These times have been tumultuous to say the least. At the end of the day, these times have been the ones that have been the most integral in my life. The times where "the rubber meets the road" and "the tough get going". Well I am tough, fuck rubber, show me the road and I will meet it kindly. These times have been the ones in which I should write. Now I have a deadline. Now I sit here writing a blog. Now can I write something to say on stage that could resonate with y'all? C'mon, Malibu, take that pen and put it on your proverbial road. Get. Fucking. Tough.

Tick tock, bitch.

The beautiful woman who stands by my best friend, my sister, my Belle, with my Baby Belle.

This is my Love. She knows what she does. That sounds bad and possibly sexual, but seriously, she knows what she does.

You are everything I never knew I always wanted. This is who keeps me smiling every second of every day.

This is what perpetuates my writing in the now. I wrote before for my home, my Gun Lake, and my family, I still write for them, but now I have additional inspiration, now I am gaining drive, now I am driven.....by the desire to tell my story myself, and by the desire to facilitate another artists desire to tell their story and to realize their dream. Now I want everyone to desire the dream to hear the story that the music tells, that the artist recites, that hip-hop evokes.  Bob your head, feel the beat, write your own song, let it take you where you are supposed to go.

Cartography, an amateur sport

Haven't done this in a bit. Guess I'll go ahead and switch the style up for a minute......

You take your first breath on the day you were born. That doesn't mean that's when your life begins. That happens when your first breath is taken away. Sometimes going through the motions becomes such a brilliant fallacy that existing complacent becomes the ideal. Likely remaining in this type of situation will allow for a life of mediocrity, pseudo happiness perpetuated by the acceptance given as you've finally conceded to taking the road more traveled. Just because that's the route which supposedly leads you to your destination, doesn't mean that destination is home. I can't tell you how many times I have allowed myself to rely on the Garmin only to drive aimlessly on roads that don't exist because of software updates that never happened. I end up finding my way. Nothing will ever update the software of the life map. Find your own fucking way. How easy it must be to embrace the puppet in you, allowing others to pull the strings. Find. Your own. Fucking way. Maps are fantastic. GPS has saved me more time, miles and gas than I can calculate. I am always lost. Fantastic advances in navigation; however, if your destination wasn't recognized in the GPS or didn't show up on a map, would you just give up and not go there? If your answer is yes, either keep that quiet or please extract yourself from my life ;-) find your own fucking way. There are people and events and experiences that will help facilitate the mapping of your life, but ultimately it's you who has to take the wheel and follow the path laid out for you. Stay on it for a while, because odds are it's what's best initially. And you don't know any better. But eventually, find your own fucking way. I did. I'm grateful for the foundation that was laid for me, because of the momentum, but I'm so happy that I decided to recalculate the route as now it seems my destination is abundantly clear.

College football seems to inspire a stream of conscious, huh? I'll lighten up next time. I'm thinkin' either the upcoming election or the ongoing question of starburst vs. Swedish fish? (don't think I've actually ever heard this, but seriously, which one?).

I spell job, a-m-a-z-i-n-g.......

Now I know I’ve advertised this blog as being a light-hearted day-to-day look at my life. I never promised everything would be humorous. Life isn’t always funny. Life is made up of too much to laugh all the time. Moments, places, feelings, people- these are a fraction, albeit an important one, they are entities that makeup this experience we were afforded called life. You must allow yourself to find appreciation in every one of the colors and brush strokes that create this big picture. Personally, I chose to allow people to be the foundation that makes my experience withstand the storms.

Now I have a career, where the day to day goings on are typically on an entirely different level of funny. I started this job just 9 short months ago completely blind to the impact this time would have on me. I was happy to have been given the opportunity of employment; however, I was in no way thrilled when I found out that due to my fellowship status, schools would be the primary worksite for me. I’ve never been luckier. September of 2011 marked the time when a group keystone people came into my life. I see 160 kids, each of whom inhabit their very own place in my heart. A few stand out more than others, while none are irrelevant. I see some patients at their homes, which the thought of was initially quite intimidating. The first home patient I saw changed my mind and my life forever.

I remember the first time I arrived at the household, not knowing what to expect, but well aware that something was about to happen that I would never forget. The patient was not quick to take a liking to me, but during that first hour session, I was able to read her and knew a short story about a Busch Gardens trip and a bodily function of an elephant may be just the ticket to building the rapport I would need to be an effective therapist and fixture in her life. Nine months later, and she has been an effective therapist and fixture in my life. I am inspired and humbled every minute I am in her presence. I am her speech therapist, but she is the one who has taught me. I've taken her through the steps to maintain focus, verbalize based on her feelings and make steps toward intentional communication. Mind you, she is unable to speak a word, but fully capable off telling you so much. She not only inspires me, but also makes me love what I do more than I ever imagined possible.

I never would have imagined that I could be the catalyst in helping young adults transition through some of the most difficult times of their lives. I never thought, that because of how cruel kids can be, that I would be the only thing they look forward to about coming to school every day. Ultimately I really never would have believed that THEY are the thing that I look forward to about going to work every day.

The positive attitude and tenacity I have seen in so many whom have been dealt some of the most difficult hands I can imagine, is so incredibly humbling and inspiring. There have been infinite amounts of moments this year that have made me laugh, cry, think, upset, anxious and an array of other emotions. 

These moments, which happen during what some may call a job, but I regard a privilege, are what help keep me grounded. Every goal and objective whether on the IEP or in life, that I assist them in reaching, is subsequently an accomplishment in my own life. I will stop at nothing to help these amazing people continue to improve, as they have never stopped in improving me.

Last week one of my students asked a nurse on a field trip learning about blood types: “so what blood type is HIV positive?”. That was funny, right? Ok, then I’m back. 

Cinco de make you thinko

It is a rare and infrequent occasion, "drinking holiday" events coinciding...... Oh wait, Cinco de Mayo and Kentucky Derby? No. Not at all. Saturday. In May. That's it. It's spring and a Saturday. So that means shirts should get prepared to be custom designed. Holy eff. This sounds like just any other night doesn't it? Well it could very well have been, but something was missing. Something was afforded to me last weekend that is quite a rarity. In no way could I ever have the audacity to claim that my day today isn't filthmazing; however, last weekend took the babiar fondant cake. Move on, Megz. It's a day to celebrate your......er......others' Mexican heritage ok fine. I shall rock this sombrero. I will venture out to this block party and ensure the block is indeed hot. The block kept up its end of the deal. It was warm to quite warm. We rocked the coronas AND the finger mustaches. I guess the destination of this story is not the celebrations that occurred, but the lessons that were learned. Optimistically speaking, I hope were. Sometimes no matter where you try to interject yourself, and how persistent you are in your attempts to adjust and recreate your fate, some things are just destined to remain the same. The awe-same. If you were a bettin', man you'd have put all your chips on us ending up at cheap. You fucking win. You fucker. We venture off the beaten path in a feeble attempt to make known our insatiable thirst for change, for something to differentiate us from what you have always known we always had been. Is it even possible? I like to think so..... When I can prove myself wrong, that'll be the time when I can justify being so condescending to the rest of you. I'm afraid of change. Are you? I would have to assume so; however, my assumptions tend to be what get me in trouble. I had a great night. I always do when I am complacent in my situation. In no way is this intended to be negative. Simply insightful. This holiday was just another fantastic display of of my life's twists and turns. And turn right on the on ramp of interstate phenomenal it always has. Nothing is meant to last forever. So before this Eden in which you live, allows someone to take a big old bite of the proverbial apple, alter the ending. Choose your own adventure. Make it the best ending you possibly can. Disney this life isn't, but luckily for me I live within driving distance from that world. Come see me. It'll be great. Mickey is here, but more importantly so are the non-fictional characters whom have oiled the gears to make my world go 'round so efficiently. Thanks, y'all.

And now, in the right corner, weighing in at 1.5 pounds standing 8 inches off the ground.....

He's buckets of fun, just put your balls in his top and out of his mouth they will pop, KEN MR. BUCKET MUUUUUUDIIIIIEEEEE!!!!!!!

Megz mouth, the opening of Tampa Bay.

This past weekend I was graced with the presence of a very good friend of mine, Ryan von Steinen aka the manatee hammer. Him, Megz, and I were all reunited after an awesome, yet short lived Christmas vacation. We pretty much wrecked this place, from Riverview, Apollo beach, Siesta Key, and to filthy seaweed rich comfort of Indian rocks. The experiences of laughter, story telling, filthy pink stink burgers, are far above the unthinkable. I was fortunate enough to be let off the hook by uncle Matt for not mowing the grass, so him, Megz, Ryan and I could enjoy a day together filled with superior fellowship at siesta key. It was amazing, we had piss tubes, air hammers, salt n vinegar chips, and natty light by the dozens. I applaud uncle Matt for being the soft spoken, loud hearted individual that hopefully will adopt me someday. He's really good at volleyball, it's like watching a ballerina dancing on glass. Quite a majestic site. The level of Tom foolery, Bally hoo, and arbitrary filth we share is unprecedented. This past weekend probably could never be matched, at least not in my lifetime. I thank God every day for my friends that I've met and have known through the years of my priceless existence. It's not often I find or meet people on my level, maybe that's why Ryan and I were born less than 24 hours apart and the same hospital, Megz father was my principal, and uncle Matt, well he's just a pure bad ass. Thanks guys for being way more than a friend, y'all are family to this guy. Period. Mr Bucket, outsky


Ok ok, so Ken filtered his as well. Trust me y'all, it's better this way. We look forward to more guest blogs in the future, Mr. Bucket......

Surprises aren't typically my jam....

Call it an issue with lack of control, or perhaps it is a deep seeded fear of my untimely demise due to over-exertion of the heart. Either way, you can imagine my apprehension when one of my most valued associates (someone who exists on the same level of awesome as yours truly), discloses his intentions to venture to the ‘view this past Friday with a surprise in tow. The wheels in my brain (which are closer to the shape of an ellipsis than round, semantics), started turning at mach speed. I immediately called my mother in a panic, “what could it be mom?!?!?” She immediately came up with a likely conjecture, Ken finally had enough of living with Leo and he was delivering him to Hillsborough county under the guise of a fun surprise. This had me worried. Then a light bulb went off, MR. BUCKET! He bought me Mr. Bucket!!!!! Now I’m excited. Well I had days and days to run over these situations in my head before the big unveiling. Finally, Friday rolls around. I wrap up my work day and head to Mellow Mushroom (as Ken determined that a Bells beer was mandatory). I arrive and immediately start venting about my day. 5 minutes into my diatribe, a 3rd person comes and sits at our table, I don’t skip a beat, 2 more minutes of tirade. Wait, I know this person…..not in this context…..RJs, yeah, that’s it, LLT…..Kzoo…..OH FUCK, IT’S RYAN! The point of realization was the exact same point I conceded to a weekend of zero productivity and complete debauchery. Luckily, Ken and Ryan were on the same page, and that page just happened to be page 83 in the McGraw-Hill school dictionary, the page where Awesome is defined (awkward happens to be on that same page, who knew).

Well, since I’ve made the conscious decision to go balls to the wall this weekend, may as well get it started now. Let’s take Ryan everywhere……except South Tampa if at all possible. First stop, Circles for the Tigers game. A nice relaxing dinner on the water inevitably lead to a night cap (x10) at Linksters and an inappropriately late night on the Duv back porch hitting the…….books, yeah, the books. I made sure to stop at Walgreens this evening in order to purchase a souvenir Apollo Beach manatee-shirt for Ryan, obviously. The only thing missing was Molly, but timing wasn’t on our side as she was sailing the 7 seas in search of love. The show must go on. Ryan knows all too well, there are many sea in the fish, Molly should succeed.

Where would we decide to venture on a beautiful, 85 degree Saturday? If you said an underage female sex addict recovery meeting, then you obviously know Ken far too well, but not today folks, not today. Siesta Key, and in no way did it live up to it’s name. Rest was not on the agenda, but beer, food, sun and a “12 inch air hammer was. Siesta led to a stop at Woody’s on the river en route back to Riverview. Ryan and Ken dropped the bomb on me that they were to return to St. Pete that evening, to my horror. Well shit, it’s Saturday, fuck it I’ll go. Now this may not sound like such a risky thing to do, but if you know the three of us, and now we will be left to our own devices without the responsible, watchful eye of uncle Matt over us, this is going straight to shit and Ken is driving the shit bus. I almost for a fraction of a second, regretted my decision when I boarded said shit bus, aka Ken’s BMW which I’m quite sure was the first one…….ever manufactured. No wipers, no radio, no A/C, shall I continue? Don’t be such a little bitch, Meg, it’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey, which would have been far more relevant had we been blasting “Don’t Stop Believing” in the car on the ride…….see earlier description. Quick pep talk, a cig and a rockstar beverage, I’m fresh to death and ready to fuckin roll. It dawns on me, this is my maiden voyage to the Feather Sound crib, and Leo will surely be waiting to greet me with licks on the face following his chugging water from Ken’s toilet. You can’t even imagine the mixed emotions I was feeling. Well, as I may have guessed, it ended up being a Saturday night from outer fucking space. Ryan rocked his Manatee-shirt to MJ/Tobs house and all around DTSP that night, and let me tell you, it was a hit. Ken’s biggest secret was finally discovered, he has many balls, many many balls. It was pretty nonstop, but the three of us decided we needed to cut out early to go hit……the books again. We have all been studying very hard for our living green certification exams, trying to build greenhouses and shit, don’t worry about it. The night didn’t end there, but in the interest of this blog, it did. I’m the “pupet master” of this, so lay off.

Sunday funday? I fucking hate that term, so a new one was coined, not appropriate to repeat, either way, let’s go to the beach. Clam Jam 2012 doesn’t stop just because it’s a day of rest, c’mon now. After another long day at the beach, Ken finally decided it was ok for Ryan to see a little bit of South Tampa, I mean what is a weekend without the obligatory Cheap visit to see D!?!?!?! Ken agreed because D is one of the few people on his level when it comes to Tigers baseball, and she is insanely quick to refill our drinks, and she fucking rules. We hit Macs and Yard for some life-sized Jenga (our roundhouse kicking the life sized Jenga tower in my case)………you know what, I think I just need to stop here. This is definitely one of my weaker entries…….

The weekend was bad ass, I’m not sure how many times I can repeat, my friends are the best, and these two dudes are so far above most when it comes to making me laugh, nonstop, for 4 days straight (luckily I had those Depends Molly and I bought a while back), it’s not even fair to try and put it into words. We did; however, write a song about Ken’s car, so keep your ears peeled for that hot joint. It’s going to be a tough weekend to beat, lucky for me, my forearms are gigantic, so beating things comes easy to me.

In the interest of full disclosure, I assured Ken that I wouldn’t filter this entry, but if I included even a tiny fraction of the banter between Ken, Ryan and I from the weekend, I wouldn’t be typing anymore, because I’d be in a straight jacket…….what can I say, we bring out the filthy in each other, not that it’s hard to do. Since I’m being such a vag and filtering this so heavily, I’ve decided to do something different. I’ve asked for a guest blogger to give a little more explicit look at the goings on…….so please stay tuned for the first outside point of view on the Maliblog…….

My spring is NOT broken......

Every year, come March, I find myself declaring "this is likely my LAST year to have a measurable amount of time off". OK, so it just happens to be in the spring, and I just happen to be afforded the opportunity to spend this time at a condo on the beach, and there just so happen to be stores within walking distance where one may procure airbrush t-shirts.  This isn't spring break.....I'm 28 years old......

Well, as goes for a spring, as well any other functioning part, it deserves to be severed if not flat out broken.  Why hello again, Spring Break.

It's more than likely you are not handed the torch of inappropriateness of a week-long spring break as this Olympian has been, but surely, you have taken full advantage of a day or two during this, the season of new beginnings, to misplace your face and put a stop payment on reality for a bit. If you haven't, well never-fucking-mind, no fucking chance those people would be reading this.

I threw my ball into the final cup in the grand prize game.  Lie down, Bozo, Malibu wins. As a smelly homeless man is given a penny into his cup, I was again, handed a spring break. Luckily, I've had many years experience with this privilege and I will not take it for granted. No, for I, Malibu, will use this week to sleep in until 10am, sit on the beach all day and consume countless plastic cups of beer by night......wait.......this sounds hauntingly similar to the "Spring Break" I spent 10 years ago.  OH YEAH!, shit doesn't change.

I had a fucking blast.  I spent the entire time with my creators. I went to a Tigers game, drank at 10 am, met a fucking Captain Jack Sparrow impersonator, saw sponges on a dock, reunited with old friends, witnessed coeds frolic, paddle board failed, Mr. Bucket, ate amazing food, failed to remember 99% of what awesomeness transpired over the past week....yup, it was that awesome.  My life is hands down fucking 12 inches......yeah, it rules.

This brings me to today, St. Pattys......whatever, I fucking rocked that shit.  Starting the day at the Undertow beach bar, with my best friend Lisa.....via Yoda-esque texts.....watching my love play vball, Green beer at Crabby's, celebrating Joey D's bday with a very special crew, and finally, deciding that I've found my new calling......and it's not what you may think.....I know many of you have been anticipating my career switch to sushi chef and/or stunt pilot......but that's incorrect......I think I'd like to try my hand at something different.....and if you are reading this and/or are genuinely interested, just ask me.......

Spring may have been broken, but it's definitely been repaired and poised to be broken again soon......