Pete Wentz and Meagan camper

August 16th, 2011 - Louis and Harry arriving at KEY 100 radio station in Manchester.

August 16th, 2011 - Louis and Harry at Real Radio Manchester.

There’s times where you drink to forget. A drink to remember, to take you back to a blissful time. A moment in you’re life where you never wanted to leave but somehow managed to escape. A time where we once killed ourselves drowning in agony. We look back, we elaborate, we interpret, and most importantly we accept. We realize that this is what happens. Emotions they change, every single day. Some days they drag, every minute of the day seems like an hour in ours. Other days pass us before our eyes and we crave that extra time. But they happen and will only continue to happen. It’s the roots, the content of which our personalities derive from. We can only embrace and bask in the moment. Learn from our failures and put forth the effort to avoid such sorrows. Whatever it may be, feelings they come and go. (Son cosas de la vida. Se entienden, se descutan, y se resuelvan. Y la vida continua. No hay necesidad. No vale la pena. No hay que enojar, solamente hay que amar. Ay que abrir nuestras mentes a cosas que son sujetes de cambio. La vida no es para siempre. Hay que experimentar con todo lo que se encuentre. Cualquier opportunidad para crear una emocion diferente, Dejarlo ir de todo. Viviendo en el pasado nunca dejara que aprecies lo que esta en frente de ti. We love and we assist. Create a better environment for those who need it and embrace it when it’s your turn to receive. The little things that make you smile, the notes that you create that will linger in your mind. 

When I was looking for houses, several years ago, I came across one that was under construction but the construction had completely stopped due to unforeseen financial reasons. However, it was not for sale. It sat for months before construction was picked up again but during the interim, I would sneak over and trespass. It was only a little more than half finished so you had to use your imagination for the most part. I loved the house. When you walked in, beyond the foyer, all you could see was a two story wall of glass that embraced a familyroom. Beyond it, only trees. It was like being outdoors. I would bring that vibe into My Paradise. I think it’s natural, with the events of my childhood, that a home would be a significant part of my creating. Noting, that I love the home I am in now. I’ve nothing but appreciation for the abundance it represents but this is kinda fun so let’s continue. Within the trees is an sanctuary. A sacred place to meditate, write and just hangout with myself under the stars. It seldom gets cold. I’m cold natured. Mosquitoes. What are those? It has a garden because what is Paradise without a garden? On a scale of 1 to 10, my garden is an 11. It is right outside the kitchen which rivals anything in Better Homes and Gardens. OMG, the library. I might have to take a cold shower if I get too deep in describing it. Well, not too cold. The mailbox is at the end of a long drive. I love the walk. On rainy days, I take an umbrella but I don’t use it until I get the mail. The rise of the ozone is intoxicating. The nights are cool enough to light a fire. And there’s a treehouse and in the treehouse…a library. A small one. The roof is solid and keeps the books dry when it rains. You can climb on the roof and look through the waterproof telescope. Also! In My Paradise, my assistant who is psychic (and great at organizing) reads my son’s thoughts. He (my son) has his own space to be completely himself as do all the children but as they move on with their lives when they return to visit (which is typically often) we all just camp out in the treehouse. Suffice it to say, it’s a big tree. The Tree of Acknowledgment. Ha! And no one can ever be cast out of My Paradise because the fruit is so abundant someone needs to eat it. Let’s add a couple of deer to aid in the excess. Birds, of course. Squirrels (well behaved ones). And, of course, colorful insects of all shapes and sizes. I think I’ll throw in a mountain and an ocean…wait. I just remembered something. When I was a young girl, my friend lived in a beautiful part of town. Behind her house was a “forest” and through the trees ran a stream. The green algae that grew on it gave the appearance of a path. I had no idea it was a stream at the time and I ran straight into it. I returned to her home soaked. But I thought it was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. My Paradise has both streams and paths and I know clearly which is which. And all are welcome to walk the paths or flow with the streams or…vica-versa.