. . .

A Re-Issue from The SnapDragon Archives: Originally Posted in March of 2019

. . .

Hello, lovelies.

It’s time to open up your little eyelids.

Take a look around.

Realize that you are a human being; an imperfect creature; a tortoise emerging from the safety of its shell.

It’s okay.

Life goes on.

You are okay.

You are enough.

And I love you.

. . .

SnapDragon is a writer, artist, and easily-sunburned creature.

Follow Snippets of SnapDragon for a few of her favorite things.

. . .

A Re-Issue from The SnapDragon Archives: Originally Posted in February of 2019.

. . .

I’ve wanted a cuckoo clock since I was a small girl.

But it’s one of those things that slipped into the recesses of my mind over the years, kicked to the corner and replaced by a million other hobbies and interests.

Yet whenever I’d see a cuckoo clock–albeit those times were rare–my heart would rejoice at its charm.

I love the old-fashioned, hand-carved artistry. I love the reliable inner workings of its gears, and the sonorous sound as I wind it each morning and night. I love the reminder twice an hour that life is moving on, displayed with a chirp and chime.

The Husband surprised me with the beauty you see above. It hangs in our kitchen by the farmhouse sink. Henry sometimes bats at the chains. I marvel at this classic treasure every single day. It’s ours.

So Dear Reader, find your cuckoo clock. Fill your home with whatever makes you happy. It doesn’t need to match, it doesn’t need to be brand-name. But those little things? The antique mugs and photo frames? They make your nest a haven.

. . .

SnapDragon is a writer, artist, and genuine old soul.

Follow Snippets of SnapDragon for her take on just about everything.

. . .

A Re-Issue from The SnapDragon Archives: Originally Posted in February of 2019.

. . .

Today’s epiphany is a simple one, yet I know its struggle will remain for the rest of my days.

One of my favorite Tori Amos lyrics is I know the truth is in between the first and the fortieth drink. (This relates, I swear.)

Whether that means booze, cold brew, or some nine-dollar magical elixir sold at Whole Foods, I do not know. But I think she may be on to something.

Because there seems to be a sort of Goldilocks Zone of self-realization, when you feel like the rawest, truest version of yourself.

Each day consists of a unique concoction of factors: the weather; the quality of last night’s slumber; my choice of meals, music, and social interaction. Sometimes that concoction is as satisfying as homemade mac n’ cheese, and I just want to write down its recipe in my best cursive hand. And other days? I wonder what the fuck the non-existent gods were thinking.

But when I woke up this morning, I had a Goldilocks Moment.

I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and dressed. Poured myself a glass of orange juice and sipped it slowly at the kitchen table.

Today will be a good day.

Because I realized that while there are many factors of my day-to-day–many of which I have no control over–my worst moments? Yeah. They come out of my own head.

Damn, girl.

For example:

I’m overweight. I’m unemployed. I call myself a writer and have yet to publish a single sentence.

I’m a painter, but balk at the mess of it all so therefore wait another day.

I’m a daughter, and a sister, and I constantly bludgeon myself with hate for not showing my family “the real me”.

But you know what I remembered this morning, in that beautiful moment of clarity?

Not once has anyone criticized me for these things.

Not. one. time.

It’s me. (gasp!)

I constantly live in a state of self-judgment. I really am, as they say, my own worst enemy. Because what kind of prick throws out words of hate at another person? You’re fat! You’re lazy! You’re fake! I would never say that to someone, and would stop being friends with anyone who did. But when it comes to myself? Christ. I’m worse than the meanest mean girl there is.

So let me try this again.

I love my body. I really do. Sure, I could work out a little more. But I also love the way this chocolate glazed donut melts in my mouth. I’m a human being, and I think I’m pretty. Period.

I write and I paint when I feel like it. I have goals for myself, and I know I will accomplish them. But no one is standing in the doorway with a stopwatch, arms crossed and blowing a whistle for me to get moving! Why haven’t you done something yet? 

I’m the only one I have to answer to.

And finally (and probably most importantly) I always try to treat people with respect: my family, my friends, and the strangers of suburbia I will likely never meet again. I need to remember that there are different levels of intimacy to the different relationships in life. It does not mean that I am responsible for making all of the people happy, all of the fucking time.

So, Dear Reader? Love yourself. Give yourself a break. Remember that not even one of us has it all.

But you are you, and I am me, and we’re in this thing together.

And maybe that’s all we need.

. . .

SnapDragon is a writer, artist, and all-around happy camper.

Follow Snippets of SnapDragon for treats, trinkets, and treasures.

. . .

A Re-Issue from The SnapDragon Archives: Originally Posted in February of 2019.

. . .

I’ve been unemployed for a year.

Woah.

I’ve done a lot in that year. The Husband and I traveled abroad to Paris, Madrid, Stockholm, Helsinki, and St. Petersburg. We also visited the Pacific Northwest, Colorado, and Las Vegas. In between those adventures, we took advantage of our tri-state area status and visited off-the-chain breweries in New York and New Jersey, sampling the finest suds in the region.

It’s okay; you can be jealous. I’m still in awe that these incredible, tasty, and memorable moments happen to me, and so very often.

In addition to expanding my travel log, I’m proud to say I made a lot of progress in my journey as an artist this past year, both in writing and in painting. I took classes at my local Art Association. I set up a make-shift studio at home, complete with drop cloths, easels, and an array of deliciously colorful acrylics. Our house displays my work in nearly every room, as odd and imperfect as it may be.

As far as the writing goes, I sat in numerous main-stream coffee shops, typing away like a stereotypical douchebag. (Currently am, in fact!) It is cliche, but solves the problem of both Henry and Raj either sitting directly on top of the keyboard, or being so damn cute that I just can’t help but stop everything and snuggle. (Yes, that happens. It’s as sweet as it sounds.) Anyway, I have a handful of chapters that I’m proud of. They’re still little babies at this point, in need of much development, but like a parent I’m banking on the potential that lay within.

So, I promise I didn’t start this post with the intention of bragging. Instead, I wanted–needed–to reflect on another year gone by. (starts singing: Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred min-utes! How do you measure, measure a year?)

Indeed, we all have ways of measuring our lives. For us academics, the school years make this all too easy. There’s New Year’s Day, of course. Birthdays. Anniversaries.

Take your pick, but Planet Earth keeps spinning (until we fuck it up so much that it inevitably disintegrates) and it’s up to you to make those days count.

So while I’ll continue to celebrate the big things, I want to savor the small as well.

Because perhaps life is also measured by the immeasurable: those tiny, intimate specks of time that go unphotographed, but add up to a lifetime of character.

This iced coffee has never tasted better. I’m wearing my favorite bluebird earrings. I just heard an obscure Queen song being played at Starbucks. The sun is shining.

I have a shelf full of books to read. We’re rewatching Game of Thrones. My heart is still beating for another day.

My grandmother’s ring sparkles on my finger. I feel warm. I’m getting a tad bit hungry and have money in my wallet to meet this basic need.

I have a brain in my head, a skip in my step, and a smile on my face, because I’m alive, goddamit.

Here’s to another 365 slices of life.

. . .

SnapDragon is a writer, artist, and belly-laugher of old sitcoms.

Follow Snippets of SnapDragon for a little bit of everything.

. . .

A Re-Issue from The SnapDragon Archives: Originally Posted in February of 2019.

. . .

When I meet new people it takes about 30 seconds for them to realize:

I. Love. Animals.

Like, a lot.

Yes, I’m a vegetarian. But I promise I’m not crazy. I won’t throw red paint on your new mink coat. I don’t boycott chain restaurants. I’m married to a carnivore, in fact. I’ve happily cooked Thanksgiving turkeys and taco meat. I just won’t eat it.

Also, I can pretty much guarantee that my closet is home to non-vegan shoes and handbags. I’m aware of the contradiction, yes, seeing as I love love love animals. But I have never once proclaimed to be saving the planet by my dietary choices. I just hate the thought of blood or bones in my food. (Don’t you?)

But back to my original point: Animals make me ridiculously happy.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a pet, farm animal, zoo exhibit, or children’s illustration. Seeing the innocent eyes of a creature always makes me smile. I can’t help but coo and wonder aloud if it’s comfortable and happy and enjoying every moment of its animal life.

So it’s probably no surprise that I’m cat-mom to two sweet babies, Henry and Raja.

Henry, 2017. Original Photo by SnapDragon X. All rights reserved.

This is Henry. He was rescued from an alley in Kansas by my Mother-in-Law, and arrived at our door at six-weeks old. He’s a gentle giant. In fact, he has anxiety like me. If he’s not snuggling on my chest, you can find him “chirping” and roaming about the house. He loves to chase and play with our other cat, Raja. He is the light of my life (along with my husband, of course) and I’m pretty much obsessed with ensuring his every comfort and happiness.

Raja, 2017. Original Photo by SnapDragon X. All rights reserved.

This is Raja. As you can see, she’s not like most cats. She’s a sphynx. We adopted her at four-years-old from a friendly couple who could no longer give her the attention she needs. Similar to a dog, she follows us from room to room. She loves to perch on my husband’s shoulder, like a parrot. Just like Henry, she purrs and snuggles on my chest like a rabbit. She is beautiful, and perfect, and I get insanely angry when people say she’s weird or ugly. Fuck you.

And so, I have the joy of taking care of these beauties each day. I delight in seeing them interact, curious about every cog and corner of our home. When I see the gentle nature of their lives, it gives me pause. May we all enjoy the simplicity of each day.

Because truly: Isn’t life about feeling safe, warm, and loved?

So love your pets today, and always. Respect the animals who also call our planet home.

You won’t regret it.

. . .

SnapDragon is a writer, artist, and happy purchaser of overpriced soaps.

Follow Snippets of SnapDragon for her Two-Bit Musings and more.

. . .

A Re-Issue from The SnapDragon Archives: Originally Posted in February of 2019

. . .

Get Up, Girl.

It’s just another (not-so-manic) Monday. I know our society loves to hate Mondays, but I like them. (Yes, I liked them even when I was working.) It’s the start of a new week. Businesses are open, people are scurrying to and fro, and there’s just a general feeling of being a part of a collective consciousness.

If I could delete one day, it would hands-down be Sunday. There’s a lazy, hung-over vibe that spreads an aura of depression over all five feet of me. Although Sunday is technically Day One of a new week (according to our calendars) it feels like a pile of leftover crumbs that I want to sweep up and dump in the garbage can.

Maybe it’s because I’m prone to anxiety and depression. Sigh. I grimace at how often those two words escape my lips or bleed from pen to journal page. But it would be irresponsible of me to ignore this reality. It’s a reality that requires my attention. It’s a reality I won’t let rule my life.

I know as well as you do that everybody goes through shit. Friends betray us, loved ones die, or our bodies don’t work like they’re supposed to. Watch even three minutes of the news and you’ll no doubt want to bury your head in the sheets and wish for a long and dreamless sleep. To put it simply, life fucking sucks sometimes.

I mean, right? Is it just me?

Regardless, we can’t let the shit win.

When I’m out and about I like to glance at passersby. Where are they going? What are they worried about today? Why did they choose to wear that jacket, that flourish of eye makeup, that hipster hat? The only answer I have is that those people chose to show up. They could have stayed home. They could have locked the doors, hid in bed, and refused to participate in the human experience. But here they are: alive, moving, and ready to give it another shot.

And that’s what I tell myself when those Sunday Blues show up (even on a Tuesday). Sure, everybody needs those times of respite–in fact, enjoy them often, I say–but society can’t exist without us. No matter what you offer, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem, you matter.

So let’s make a pact to get out there, especially when it feels impossible. Smile at the postman. Tell your barista you like her hairstyle. Wave in the person on the road who clearly ignored the sixteen signs exclaiming the lane was about to end. Because maybe today’s been rough. Maybe they’re just about making it and can use a bit of grace, even from a stranger.

Thanks for being here.

. . .

SnapDragon is a writer, artist, and weirdo in general.

Follow Snippets of SnapDragon for all kinds of fun.