Guess who’s back?!

I know it’s been nearly a year since my last post but those days and months have been met with lots of contention because I couldn’t (nor can I yet) figure out what I’d like this blog to become. Is this a place for me to express my opinions on the world as experienced by me? Should it be a forum to discuss and present fashion? Maybe food? Perhaps it should just be a collection of photographs. In my mind, it can and should be anything and everything all at once. Choosing has never been a strength of mine. I guess I’ve always felt choosing was restrictive and limiting. If I were to choose one thing over another, then it can only be that thing. I wonder if people would understand and/or support me if they weren’t able to categorize what it is that I’m doing.

There were many days where I felt like I’d return to posting but then I was wanting to make sure that what I posted set the correct tone for what was to follow. I sat down, and even lied around, thinking about how to begin the dialogue again. I’ve worried about all of these factors that I have no control over, yet they were controlling me. I worry a lot about the image I portray being honest enough. I worry a lot about not painting a picture of perfection because that couldn’t be farther from my actual truth. I also worry a lot about being able to say something that sparks something in the mind, heart, or spirit of the reader so that they have the courage to begin, continue, or begin again.

I still don’t know which form this blog will take, but I will commit to posting new content on a weekly basis to clear my head and allow you to know some of what I think and feel. I can only hope that it helps you, makes you laugh, or just distracts you from the world for a little bit. I appreciate those who are reading this now, and those of you who continued to visit the site for the eleven months that I’ve been inactive. I check my stats weekly and the amount of visitors I’ve received daily without any new content amazes me.  Thank you!




and still…

i cry
rain pours from
my heart
washing away life
vice grip tightens
breath is stolen
faith in love
fade to black

and still…

the LOVE of GOD
is the Love that
wakes me each morning
provides my breath
creator of you and i
protector of my soul
worthy of praise…

and still…

i reap the benefits of stillness
after my mind has questioned
and is lacking in answers
often times tears
spell it out for me
other times
i wait
and wait

and still…

wondering consumes me
life keeps moving
on top of
and thru me
but i see
i think i see
im sure i see
i wanna see
please help me…
this never becomes less
only more or less
mainly yes
im outta breath
so take the only words i have left
remember me…
and still…


No Chinatown, No thank you!

Since you all don’t know me well enough yet I’ll just tell you. I really am a little bit country, a little bit rock and roll. In my mind I’m also a ninja, undercover cop, and I sincerely believe that I could qualify for the Olympics in track & field. So basically I have a healthy dose of confidence. I also love to travel and more than that, I obviously love to move state to state, and city to city on a whim in search of a certain feeling.

In my later teens I felt like I’d always live in California because well I guess I loved it. Not really sure why I felt the way I did about it. This is actually my first time trying to recall what my thought process was or recount why I was so enamored with it. If I had a gun to my head and had to venture a guess I suppose I could say it’s because it was very familiar and I felt that it had everything I could possibly need.

It didn’t take long for me to feel like I had outgrown the place that I was raised because at nearly every turn there was someone who knew me from somewhere or somehow needed me for something. I was also dealing with deciding how to express my sexuality. Back then, I felt that sexuality was something that needed to be expressed outwardly because there was strength and pride in saying it making it known. I was a kid, and obviously didn’t know nearly as much as I thought I did.

However, what I did know was that it was time to move on. I tried New York and loved it but I was indirectly forced out by a horrible relationship that crashed and burned. Next I tried Atlanta because it was the polar opposite of New York and I lasted a few years but it started to bore me. I went back to California and felt at ease again. The feeling was short-lived so I then moved to West Palm Beach, Florida with Lavarro briefly before moving back to Georgia. I hated Georgia even more the second time so we went back to California for a year then we moved to Dallas. After nearly three years in Dallas I began to think about what it was that I was not only wanting from a city, but also what I expected as well.

First of all, I needed there to be an efficient subway and bus system that operates 24-hours. Not that I utilize either of them, I just like to know that they’re there. Well I’d totally use the train if I had to, especially when going downtown because I hate looking for parking or paying $30 to park for four hours. I needed there to be taxis galore, luxury car service, a garment district, cheap (but good) Chinese food, an Hermes, Bloomingdales, an Intermix (for Kotur clutches), Hugo Boss, United Colors of Benetton, a financial district, numbered streets, a Broadway street, a huge designer fashion fabric store, activism and protests, museums for days, outdoor ice skating in the winter, a Trump hotel, a Ritz-Carlton, Four Seasons,or a St. Regis. I need for there to be a Spanish neighborhood, a Jewish neighborhood, a gay part of town, and the most important qualifier for me to consider living in any particular city is the presence of an official Chinatown. Not a part of town that has a few Chinese businesses or where Asian people have frequently been spotted, but a bona fide Chinatown where English isn’t spoken, where I can’t read any of the signs, where people are shopping for the days meat and fresh veggies at 6:00am, where tai chi is going down in the park, where the banks are Chinese, where hole in the wall stores advertise and sell Shiseido skincare and cosmetics, where greasy ducks hang in restaurant windows, a place where you can buy exotic herbs, spices, and remedies. This place has to be littered with jewelry stores selling 18k gold and jade, a community center, and tons of dry cleaners.

Whether you choose to visit Chinatown or not, is totally irrelevant and beside the point…it just needs to be there. For me it’s symbolic of a city that’s progressive, inclusive, and culturally diverse. It provides a very necessary dimension to any city’s downtown atmosphere and I can’t live anywhere that doesn’t contain one of these non-English speaking hotspots. If I were able to deal with the often unidentifiable smells that make me nauseated, I’d consider living in Chinatown. Or maybe I’d just buy an apartment building there to rent out to because I’m sort of turned on by the idea of being the owner of a building that I rent to Asians. Don’t be mad at me, I’m just being honest.

Anyway, you can pretty much be guaranteed that if there is a Chinatown, then there are all (or most) of the other elements I’ve previously mentioned. Ok well I’m done for now because I need to use the restroom and have been holding it for two hours, my face itches because I haven’t shaved this week, and I’m tired of typing because my hands are ice cold.


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Feeling slutty should always be a choice!!!

Recently my husband and I made a quick (yet long) trip to Dallas for a photo shoot as honorees for DFW Style Daily’s best dressed 2013. I call the trip quick because we were only in Dallas for about twenty-six hours but feeling adventurous and curious about this MegaBus we’d been hearing so much about decided to use it as our mode of transport. I guess my Manager/Publicist was feeling extra “down with the people.” Who knows, but it was a very inexpensive option, and even more so if you calculate the cost per hour. I’ve taken more expensive cab rides from Ft. Lauderdale airport to downtown Miami. Wow is all I can say, because it took us about twenty hours to get there and another twenty to get back. Nearly two days’ worth of road travel with the most obnoxious group of strangers ever assembled. I’m talking about over the hill five foot tall muscle heads, older ladies with drawstring ponytails, females with blood red contact lenses, and a host and array of other odd characters. I couldn’t have chosen a more diverse group of individuals if it were my job and had been for the last decade. However, I digress. Finally making it to Dallas after moving from the metroplex two months prior was an interesting feeling. I missed it dearly but couldn’t wait to leave it again and head back to Chicago.

After calling for car service and arriving at our nameless, faceless, soulless hotel, who earned these titles because they charged us an additional fifty dollars for checking in early, although the room was ready and totally empty. Our twenty hour bus ride meant nothing to them. Anyway after getting to our room, my focus was on the plush king-size bed because I desperately needed a nap before we had to head to the Galleria Dallas for 4:00pm. I plop down and immediately fall asleep. Four hours later I wake up and call my mom in California because I knew she’d answer. During this entire time I feel like we had everything we needed for this trip, and maybe a bit more than was necessary.

Our alarm sounds and Lavarro wakes up and he shaves and showers and proceeds to get dressed. After he was done, it was my turn shave and shower, which also went smoothly. In case you’re wondering why he went first when I was already awake, it’s because I take 200 degree showers that make the walls drip sweat and set off smoke detectors. Lavarro only uses cold water and he’d have to wait too long for the heat to dissipate before he could even step foot beyond the doors threshold. Anyway, it was time to get dressed and then it hit me like a ton of bricks! The only underwear that I brought with me was the pair that I was wearing. How in the world did I manage to bring nearly every piece of jewelry from our safe, and like five pairs of jeans and two wool jackets, and my arsenal of Dior skincare and forget something as essential as underwear? If we were at the St. Francis in San Francisco I could have run down to Victoria Secret in the hotel’s lobby and purchased a pair of panties big enough to wear for the day. It wouldn’t have been the first time I was forced to wear women’s panties in a pinch. Perhaps one day I’ll tell you that entire story. Right now it’s between Lavarro, Della, God and I.

So in typical DJ fashion, I ask Lavarro if he’d packed underwear for me, and blamed him for not making sure I had not only an extra pair, but several extra pairs so that I could choose the pair that best fit my mood at the time of getting dressed. I pitch a fit, refuse to get dressed, and then I’m presented with a fresh pair of underwear by my better (more organized) half. You’d think this would have solved my dilemma, but it only presented yet another obstacle. You guys, these underwear were so freaking tiny and slutty that I got upset all over again. Why’d I have to wear the slut undies? Why couldn’t Lavarro trade with me and let me wear the full coverage pair? Seriously guys these things were super-duper slutty. I want to show you a picture but I don’t know if my husband would permit me to. I’ll do my best to describe them. Ok first, they’re powder blue and sheer. They’re super low-rise, and they have a black waist band and also a black band that goes from the front top of the waistband and down around the jewels and cups them and presents them in a way as if to say, “These are for you! Enjoy!” I was soooo humiliated because I was imagining having to get changed in front of strangers and then they’d judge me and think I was some back room, glory hole, freak of the week. This was such a tragedy.

Fortunately, we made it on time to the photo-shoot on time and no one ever knew my dirty little secret. I looked like a gentleman, and the photos perfectly reflected that. Just so you know, after that incident when we got back home, I ordered that underwear in every color for Lavarro and myself. I guess I discovered a side of myself that I thought I’d left in my early twenties. You’re never too old to feel sexy. I simply wanted a choice.
Remember that “Love never fails.”

Until next time…
-DJ Hurley