Money Pit Best scene

If you're having a bad day, watch this and it will cure you! :)

The People of Walmart Video

Mullets, daisy dukes, too sexy, thaaaat thong, if you want my body, pants on the ground! Dude, the people of Walmart put to music! You will laugh cause 'whoop, there it is!' Hahahh.
NOW *CLICK* on the link below and laugh your pants off! =P''
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lfUvcuDKMvM

.::*Soul Blinding Poet*::.

Soul blinding poet, eyes rush like the tide

Blood runs thick, bluest is he.

Bring into focus the disillusionment of his tone.

Through a looking glass is his spectrum of thought,

Hard soaked in bitter bleak atonement.

A heart that only beats in the ink of his pen,

The only warmth to be held lies in the words of his paper.

The pride of his poetry sleeps within the bindings of leather scented walls.

Dust will leave dormant each line until a sleeping beauty rises to kiss every word to life.

Wishes for a white washed mind erases any faith of a dream,

Abandoned love takes flight to meet a defying place of gravity.

Existing in the afterlife of unseen reason,

Escaping the crashing lights, bleeding grace, the untamed grip of passion.

He plunges his face into a watered reflection of paired lungs breathing,

Syphoning a last breath before death steals away his love by suffocation.

Wasted blueprints of a mapped out life,

Landlocked from a water's edge of symphonies drinking dew.

Parched mouth, scorned by blistering & onslaughts of words withheld, blooming flowered folly.

Petals fall in arrangement of the name that made his eyes swell to cry crimson,

Ripped from his fingers, this love had to idle, morose and die.

He cut his heart, shaved his soul, tied them up and sent away his fingerprints.

Feeling nothing now, his feet no longer seek the path to know why, Nor-shall I?

It is together now, to death, bury Love-

Wasted mourner's tears on wings of ghosts.

'To End' the poet writes,

'...this foolish suffering.  But, if to love is to be given the name Fool,let it be of greatest pride to call myself thee.'

~by Keila

Mysterious & HIdden

You are mysterious and hidden

Not allowing even a glimpse of hope or sparkle of redemption shine

Parched upon a distant hill

Removed and safe in your dreams-be still

Secrets sow your weeping shuttering heart to your own safe keeping

Muted, safety's on, vulnerability is a loaded gun

Blank eyes to elude strength but buckling are your knees in the lifeless shifting

You tell yourself you need not no one

'Tis to be a shame to hold an expression of want on your lips

Contours of hard lines to hide your hungering strain for love

Your heart is beating and aching for the keeping

Hallowed holes, digging ditches to bury the truth only your thoughts know

A stranded soul of a mate who will never hold you

For you remain covered, caressing cold company only ravens know

~K

Shakespeare and Vanilla Cream Soda

*Drinking a Vanilla Cream Soda and reading one of my favorite sonnets! :) I do wish I could share my cream soda with you, but tonight, I feel selfish! ;) Heeheeeheeeeee.
SONNET 78


So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse

And found such fair assistance in my verse

As every alien pen hath got my use

And under thee their poesy disperse.

Thine eyes that taught the dumb on high to sing

And heavy ignorance aloft to fly

Have added feathers to the learned's wing

And given grace a double majesty.

Yet be most proud of that which I compile,

Whose influence is thine and born of thee:

In others' works thou dost but mend the style,

And arts with thy sweet graces graced be;

But thou art all my art and dost advance

As high as learning my rude ignorance.

*Goodnight, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite!*

Art=expression-passion-relaxation-living-dreaming-invoking-emotion-painted thoughts::

                                                     Dusk to Dawn by Keila

                                      Painted Poetry by Keila

Tears On Your Fire by Keila

In high school I sketched for fun.  Hadn't picked up a pencil or paint brush for about a decade.  Then, an inward inspiration arose and has embodied a desire to express and alleviate my deepest emotions or thoughts.  As of late I've been experimenting with oils.  I don't know what the heck I'm doing and I should really take an art class...but, where do I fit that in?   I will never claim any of my 'so called' expressions of art are any good but they speak things most may never get.  My soul transpires into painted poetic images. Are words really necessary?  I find in my life, more than ever, I cannot communicate the deepest parts of me in any verbal ratification.  For in this time, I'm constricted to imagery.  I have hope for the day I can freely say....what it all means.... this life of the in between.  When I look back, I can make sense of God's configuring in his makings of ME.

Fall Becker Show In Buffalo, NY

Had a great time in Buffalo, NY at the Fall Becker Hair Show.  My partner, Bea and I had a fantastic time educating eager hairdressers in new cutting and styling techniques.  This is the beginning of my fourth year educating for White Sands Hair Products and while teaching other hairdressers I believe I'm learning even more.  While I was in Buffalo we snuck away to catch a quick breathtaking glimpse of Niagara Falls at night.  I brought my passport in hopes to cross on over to Canada but time did not permit that.  Bea and I also took time to view some lovely art at the Albright Knox Art Gallery on a very quick lunch break.  

I've got another hair show in St. Paul, Minnesota this weekend!  I'm extremely excited to take in fall since we don't get to enjoy that too much here in AZ.  I mean, I've never seen a cactus change into a vibrant orange, have you? Hee heee.  I know we have other pretty trees that do but my last show in MN during the fall was gorgeous.  I took late night walks last October and fell in love with St. Paul.  I admire architecture of age and style.  The churches were wondrous! Anyways, this is a busy time of year for me.  The first weekend of November, Fernando Salas- the founder and creator of white sands is doing a show here in Tucson.  I will be doing the show with him.  I've yet to gather a handful of models and time is ticking away.  Meanwhile, I'm getting my tonsils taken out Oct. 25th.  I don't think I've put enough on the calendar, do you?  Apparently, I like a crazy lifestyle.  I don't know how to sit still very well.  I suppose I will fall face first into the ground soon enough! :)  In the midst of all this chaos I will continue to share happy Halloween festivities with my two little munchkins.  I can't wait to take them to Wilcox to Apple Annie's for our traditional apple and pumpkin picking.  The holidays are among us, folks!  Where did 2010 go? Wow. Life......just breathe! ;P

 Niagara Falls

 Moi

 Hello Canada!

 Music and Literature 1878-Harnett(Albright Knox Art Gallery)

 My model and hair creations for the Becker Runway Show

 

rEdNeCk

You might be a redneck if....----> Click the link! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HM-OySyYaDs


Today I feel like a redneck. My son has taken over the back yard. The lawn has been fashioned in toy ornament style with every spider man known to man, cars in every shape, size and color, and plenty of dinosaurs to make a mini Jurassic Park film. I looked, threw up my hands and went back inside! Out of sight, out of mind! No, not at all...but for a while anyways. Ugh. Gotta keep life light! :P

The Arms Of Time

A distant muse and shackled present time
Dreams that wait unused, riddles confused in rhyme
A heartbeat swift in pattern, a most tender dwelling
Eyes that burn with resistance, tears pull to swelling
Bind heavy rock upon each desire, oppression to suppress the soul
Hopes that love will not gain power, to pull mine own feet and body whole
Hunger pains dig deep for a lovers exchange of words or vows to keep
None are whispered in secret, the waiting heart cries wounded weep
Drunken love persuades provision for glances, eyes entwined
Embraces for vision of swaying, lullaby lulls and deepest kiss of romances
Unrequited love holds each hour, pressed cheek to a ticking clock
The sweetness of this love preserved in the red blood of wine
Aging ever still in the Arms of Time

By: Keila Womack

Taking back the reins of my identity.

 Life has a way of tearing off pieces of our flesh. Tiny clips and hits from the side. When I was a kid I thought it was really fun to ride my bike as free as possible. I would close my eyes and ride without hands UNTIL that one fatal day I clipped the side of a neighbor's car. The side mirror about knocked the wind out of me. I had my head in the clouds even then(haha). Let's just say I was more scraped up than the car was! Ouch. Oh, and my handle bar did put a nice scratch along the side of its red paint job! Oops. I had to ask Jesus to forgive me later because I looked around and acted like nothing happened after I caught my breath! You know you're guilty of the same!! ;) So that's the analogy that comes to mind. Circumstances, death, relationships and financial hardship all leave brutal marks. External hits become internal blows that leave us recked. Often time our way of surviving is to disappear, become numb or just run away. Our presence is in tact but our souls are missing. C'mon, you know what I'm talking about! Like that mirror that knocked the wind out of me, life has the same affect. We become a shell. Our soul puts a picture of itself on the missing section of the milk carton just hoping we'll reclaim it. What's a body without a soul? I see this robotic system of living become normalcy. I am reminded of my own response to a similar blog a friend had written. Best my memory recalls my words were that I'd decided to live my life 'awake' and that I'd rather feel pain in order to capture the beautiful moments in their fullest vibrancy. When we set out on this journey with dulled eye sight we see problems in a delusional perspective and it causes us to see color in black and white. It steals the 'moments' that make life worth living. Isn't it then when you feel most lost that you are gifted God's grace to see. He puts mud on our eyelids and restores our sight. 'I was blind but now I see'.
For me, this restoration came today.  A female client of my mother's has a down syndrome son named Andrew who is close to my age and shares the same birthday.  I've had the privilege of cutting his hair on several occasions. He is so full of life and contains a joy that is contagious!! He is happy for every moment. I'd like to see life through his eyes.  I feel he is a pure reflection of God's loving smile upon us. Andrew and his mother only visit AZ in the winter months but Andrew went out of his way to send me the sweetest card and a book God knows I needed.  As I started to read the introduction I began to cry.
 
Just Enough Light -Stormie Omartian

Sometimes only the step I'm on,
or the very next one ahead,
is all that is illuminated for me.
God gives just the amount of light I need
for the exact moment I need it.
At those times I walk in surrender to faith,
unable to see the future
and not fully comprehending the past.
And because it is God who has given me
what light I have,
I know I must reject the fear and
doubt that threaten to overtake me.
I must determine to be content where
I am, and allow God to get me where I need to go.
I walk forward,
one step at a time,
fully trusting that
the light God sheds is absolutely sufficient.

I am taking back my wandering soul and rediscovering my identity in Christ. He is my creator and reminds me of who I am supposed to be. I am reminded to abide in him.  I want to change someones tainted perspective like Andrew changed mine.  Life truly has hidden beauty that is waiting to be discovered at every waking moment. 
I was going to start reading, The Lovely Bones, but I may be fully devoted to Stormie Omartian's book for the time being.....God knows I need it.

Your Silence.

Why do you have to be so shielded with me

Anchors tied around your heart

The wave pulls you  in, sinking deep into the sea

My eyes strain to reach through thickened fog

As I drift in enriched currents of memories

Blinded pleas ask you to reach out for me

Yet nothing

Your silence locked you in, slave to your reverence

Your secret, if you ever loved me, died in your arms

Alone in a tomb there, instead of warmth with me

(poetic words from the deepest part of me)

'We're Movin'!'

The Hair Artists of Kurt & Quanna will now reside in Great Waves Hair Salon

6542 E. Tanque Verde, Tucson AZ, 85715

(520)327-1757 *same phone number*

Well Folks,  Kurt & Quanna & Company will be moving into Great Waves Hair salon, June 29,2010.  K&Q spent 15years on the great land of Trail Dust Town and their horses are leading them back to their old TANQUE VERDE stomping ground!  Many of you loyal and cherished clients followed us far and wide in the down town area and have let us know you couldn't be more thrilled with our convenient return to the Eastside of Tucson.  We thank you for following us these past 20 years and we're looking forward to a longer lasting Hair Tango with y'all.  Let the dancing continue!!!  We want to continue serving you and your hair! WE LOVE YOU! We couldn't ask for better clients!  We will have the same hours and phone number to accommodate you.  You will still hear the masculine voice of Matt at the other end of the phone line and he will help you with any future hair appointments!

Another great detail you should know:  Kurt & Quanna both worked as hair stylists for Great Waves 25 years ago where love sparks set them on fire!  They will continue their romance and celebrate their longevity by working in the very same salon their love for each other began!  How disgustingly ROMANTIC is that???  Set the night to music...giggles.

Which K&Q staff will join us?  Kurt, Quanna, Keila, Matt, Jess, Jamy, Nadya & Korrin.  See y'all at the new joint! ='D

~K

Midnight Read: My thoughts end in poetry: Indeed. 'A dream within a dream'

A Dream Within A Dream




TAKE this kiss upon the brow!

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow --

You are not wrong, who deem

That my days have been a dream;

Yet if Hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in none,

Is it therefore the less gone?

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.



I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand --

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep -- while I weep!

O God! can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.



Edgar Allan Poe

Quanah Parker: 'Transformed'

The white man goes into his church and talks about Jesus,” Parker once said, “but the Indian goes into his tipi and talks to Jesus.”

Quanah Parker 1906 Age:58

Every day has its story and today's should be shared.  My mom, dad and I were slaving away at work this afternoon when the mail arrived and in the boring pile of bills one stood out from the rest.  Bold words read, 'Attention Quanna'.  The envelope carried a carefully cut out New York Times article titled, Men on Horseback featuring my mother's great grandfather, the last and greatest Comanche Chief, Quanah Parker.

My mom was named after her great Comanche grandfather, Quanah Parker due to her red skin, black hair and deep blue eyes at birth.  However, her hair turned red at age one, then blonde by two years of age.  Most people look at her and only know she is of Native American descent when they see her prominent cheek bones and deep set eyes...her eyes remained a mesmerizing deep blue.  One of the things I love about my mother is that even when she has done 5 hours of yard work she always smells sweet.  Since I was a child I would bundle myself up on her side of the bed just to smell her scent when she was away at work.  In Indian tradition the name process of a child was thought of deeply and sincerely.  Quanah means FRAGRANCE.  I think it's quite symbolic that my mother, no matter what perfume,  has a very distinct scent, it's unlike anything my sense of smell has captured.  My mom has many great qualities and as I've read stories about my second great grandfather, Quanah, I've learned he was a man of passion, spiritualism, zeal, integrity and heart.  He was a leader and led many victories for his Comanche tribe.  My mom is quietly passionate, God loving- fearless leader for wounded people...much like her shadowed name, Quanah.

I will share a few excerpts from the article and leave a link for the full article if you have the time to read!
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/13/books/review/Barcott-t.html?pagewanted=1

Quanah Parker exemplifies the more deserving who get left in the shadows. One hopes a better fate awaits “Empire of the Summer Moon,” S. C. ­Gwynne’s transcendent history of Parker and the Comanche nation he led in the mid- to late 1800s. Born the son of an Indian warrior and his white wife (who had been captured at the age of 9 during a raid on a Texas ranch), Parker grew up to become the last and greatest chief of the Comanche, the tribe that ruled the Great Plains for most of the 19th century. That’s his one-sentence biography. The deeper, richer story that unfolds in “Empire of the Summer Moon” is nothing short of a revelation. Gwynne, a former editor at Time and Texas Monthly, doesn’t merely retell the story of Parker’s life. He pulls his readers through an American frontier roiling with extreme violence, political intrigue, bravery, anguish, corruption, love, knives, rifles and arrows. Lots and lots of arrows. This book will leave dust and blood on your jeans.

The Comanche didn’t raid for sport. They had specific political and economic ends in mind. The political goal was to drive the white settlers (squatters and land thieves, from the tribe’s point of view) out of Comanche territory. To that end, death, terror and torture proved to be effective. By the 1860s the Comanche were actually rolling the frontier backward in Texas. The economics of raiding were equally straightforward. Young Cynthia Ann Parker was captured and not killed partly because the Comanche needed women to keep their buffalo economy humming. The men killed the bison, but the women, Gwynne writes, “did all the value-added work: preparing the hides and decorating the robes.” The more captives and wives — as with Cynthia Parker, the former sometimes became the latter — the more product a man could produce.

Parker had a son named Quanah. Quanah grew up quickly. When he was 12, his father was killed in battle and his mother was captured by white troops. (They saw it as a rescue, but Parker was forever trying to escape back to the Comanche.) A vengeful Quanah began raiding white settlements. He was good at it, too. But skill in battle wasn’t his problem. Timing was. He happened to rise as a leader just as the whites acquired their own transformative technology: the railroad and the repeating firearm. The railroad could cheaply transport valuable buffalo hides to Eastern markets, which made it profitable for men like Buffalo Bill to massacre the great herds. Between 1868 and 1881, 31 million buffalo were slaughtered, destroying the source of Comanche wealth and food. Meanwhile, the nimble Colt revolver and the powerful Sharps .50-caliber rifle countered the Comanche’s once-superior weaponry. The empire crumbled.




Quanah Parker’s second act was, if anything, more remarkable than his first. Resigned to reservation life, he transformed himself from a death-dealing warrior to a prosperous cattleman and a hard-bargaining politician who earned the respect and friendship of Teddy Roosevelt. He played a leading role in establishing the Native American Church and its practice of peyotism, the use of hallucinogenic peyote cactus in religious ritual. “In a 370-page biography, Gwynne devotes but a single paragraph to Parker and peyote. There are simply too many other good stories to tell.

***Can I just say that I read this article and cried.  I'm overwhelmingly proud that this man is my ancestor.  It makes me want to live my life more passionately and purpose filled.  Trust me, I won't be riding horseback and leading raids but maybe in my dreams, I will......haaahaaa...;)

Painting Your Heart.

(painting & poetic thoughts by moi)

Don't believe the lies that come to rob your fragile heart

The voices of the past that build a wall and stab repeated shame

I see wholeness and delight, feathered prints beyond eyes of sight

All those who love you are wrapped up in your existence-your life

You are beauty and you should know

 Your heart is the most remarkable badge you could ever show.

Old Soul?

IF you're an old soul such as myself, we share a dream to drive a 1940 Ford Deluxe Convertible Coupe and seek the beginning of a beautiful friendship in Casablanca! I'm intrigued with the days of old. More than anything I find myself falling back into the most comfortable place in my soul when my ipod shuffle plays a Billie Holiday tune. There's a certain nostalgia that rushes in.  Music, anytime, anyplace can take me by the hand and lead me to a distant memory.  It's just as poignant as a memory jarred by a particular scent or scene.

Just last year I discovered an artist named Madeleine Peyroux.  I absolutely fell head over heels in love with her voice.  Her music stirs up the same emotions I feel when I listen to Billie's soulful voice. There's a longing that is projected in every note these two women sing.  Could they be soul sisters? Decide for yourself.  Tonight I filled the bath, lit a ton of candles and listened to Peyroux's music.  Be good to yourself and do the same.

Take in an ear sample here on youtube. In simple terms: click the purple link! :P

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mJsa-qqF7uY

The eye of GOD.

(picture: The Eye of God.)

I'm always enamored with the vast universe.  I find myself captured and lost in the stars night after night.  If it's been a while since you've looked up and set your gaze upon a starlit night, take some time to fall in love with God's spectacular creation. Speaking of....if you're searching for answers in your life and need the facts to believe that there is a great God above I'm including some fascinating links that correlate the details the bible speaks of with the facts of science. Take a look, I pray you will SEEK and FIND God in the stars tonight. Know that he loves you so. YOU are dear to him.http://www.answersingenesis.org/articles/tba/universe-confirms-biblehttp://www.godandscience.org/love/tourjs.html

Support the people of Nashville.

It's disturbing when a tragedy happens in the great homeland of America and the media barely covers it.

I'm reminded of the scripture reference in 1 Corinthians 12, 'The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts; and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ. 13For we were all baptized by[c] one Spirit into one body—whether Jews or Greeks, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink. 14Now the body is not made up of one part but of many. 15If the foot should say, "Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body," it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. 16And if the ear should say, "Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body," it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. 17If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? 18But in fact God has arranged the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. 19If they were all one part, where would the body be? 20As it is, there are many parts, but one body.' 

This parallels all too clearly for me.  As we are the body of Christ and we need one another to function as a whole, isn't this the same in our country, as human beings?  Just because the flood didn't happen in our back yard doesn't mean it didn't destroy maybe the 'foot' of the being of our body as Americans!  We need to take care of each other.  Haven't we seen our country in enough defeat the past couple of years. If we the people don't serve each other we will dwindle in our selfishness. 

In that being said, for those of you who don't know and you're in my circle of life, let me shed some light on what's happening.  I believe the best way for us to capture the essence of the amount of loss that Nashville is experiencing is to see it ourselves.  Let it sink in.  Put yourselves in their shoes. Don't just feel sorrow for them but take on the burden and make their load a little lighter.  This is a wonderful video a friend of mine put together.  Please view it and make a donation.  Every little thing amounts to a great thing.  You can make a difference.  Nashville's mayor Karl Dean said Wednesday that he expected damage estimates around Nashville to top $1 billion. Let's help put a dent in that 1billion.  If you don't have a heart or compassion for this sort of thing....FIND it...NOW!!!! Click the links below. Thank you!
 
To donate head on over here ---> http://corybasil.bandcamp.com/ 
 
***WATCH The Video:  http://www.vimeo.com/11658009
 

White Sands Hair Product

I've had the honor of working for White Sands Hair Products  http://www.whitesandsproducts.com/ as an educator over the last three years. I've had my share of hair shows and visits around the country. I was also lucky enough to travel to the beautiful Vancouver, Canada in the spring of 2008.  Just recently I was given the opportunity to head up a show of my own here in Arizona  representing the product line.  It was my responsibility to find models, pick out apparel, color cut hair design and create a festivity of new runway looks(credit due to my great friend and co-worker, Kristin Santiago who taught and styled along side of me!) .  If you're a stylist you know that hair shows in general push the limits of our culture and creativity.  They are meant to infuse a new passion for our line of work.  So here's some pictures of the looks I had a blast creating(photo cred: Amy Haskell from Haskellphotography in Tucson AZ).  Enjoy. 

Ever Yours & Ever true.

When will my love be free?
It's always tied up in knots
A fisher's net aloof at sea
Once opened envelopes
Distant letters and lines of poetry
Moments preserved in tears and ink
Stained papered prints cover the moon
The last falling star, the sun's rising tune
Crossed the cursed lovers
A candles bluest flame
The darkest of nights
The deepest onslaught of rain
Pictures perfumed, lips marooned
Heart beats casting shadows
Bouncing in between passionate gloom's
Holly hock of black blossomed beauty
The bosom of a love so true
Don't doubt nor deny this love
Is ever yours and ever true