Unfiltered truths from Adverse Cantos and Sages
Welcome to the Truth Blog, a space where authentic self-expression thrives. Here, I share the messy, funny, reflective, and hopeful truths of a creative life in Florida. Join me as I explore the power of storytelling, offer practical wisdom, and encourage you on your own journey.
Everyday truths from a creative life
On this blog, I delve into the everyday truths of a creatively driven, self-employed life in Florida. This isn't about polished Instagram posts; it's about the honest, unfiltered realness of balancing poetry by dawn, caregiving by day, property management by dusk, and an unwavering belief in the power of storytelling. My passions include exploring the complexities of self-employment, finding joy in frugal living, and the continuous journey of authentic self-expression. Each post aims to share my unique perspective on life's challenges and triumphs.
Feel seen, encouraged, and hopeful
After reading a blog post here, I want you to feel seen, encouraged, and a little more hopeful about your own journeys. I hope you take away practical wisdom, such as tips on tax forms for self-employment or frugal shopping wins. I want to give you permission to be imperfect, showing the messy reality of juggling caregiving, property management, and writing. My goal is to ignite a creative spark within you and offer hope that even when life is a juggle, there is beauty in sky photos, poetry at dawn, and humorous storytelling that keeps us going. Ultimately, I want you to think, "This is me. And maybe I can do this too."
A consistent rhythm of creativity
My Truth Blog will offer a consistent, living space for my daily creative practice. I plan to share new poetry at least two to three times per week and new blog stories one to two times per week. This pace is driven by my daily writing habit and is sustainable alongside my caregiving duties and property management. It allows me to prioritize quality over quantity, ensuring each post feels authentic and polished, not rushed. While preparing for literary contests might lead to more frequent shares, the bottom line is a steady and alive creative space where readers can expect fresh poetry, funny stories, and honest truths about my Florida caregiving, landlord, and writer life, landing three to five new pieces weekly.
Welcome to My Truth Blog: Where the Poetry’s Raw, the Plasma’s Cold, and the Hustle Never Stops (But I Do, Sometimes)
Hey y’all.
So… I’m starting a blog. Because apparently, writing poetry at dawn, caregiving by day, giving plasma twice a week, and living in an RV in Florida isn’t chaotic enough on its own. I also need to document it for the internet.
If you’re here expecting polished Instagram wellness content, “5 Morning Habits of Successful Authors,” or anyone telling you to “just manifest your dream life,” you can leave now. This isn’t that blog.
This is the blog where I tell you the truth.
So What’s This Blog Even About?
Welcome to my Truth Blog — the place where I share:
The everyday truths of being a self-employed caregiver who’s also grinding every single day, giving plasma when the bills hit, and dealing with impossible people who somehow think they’re entitled to your patience
The creative truths of writing poetry every single day while trying to turn it into an actual career (spoiler: it’s not easy, and plasma doesn’t pay like a publishing contract)
The humorous truths of RV living in Florida, where the sky is beautiful, the grind is real, and the AC breaks every other week
The money truths of frugal shopping, secondhand wins, tax forms for self-employment, and figuring out how to sell poetry and sunset photos online without crying (or giving more plasma)
The friendship truths of friends who end up not really being your friends, the heartbreak of realizing people don’t have your back, and learning to protect your energy
The mistake truths of making errors, learning to live with the consequences, and watching how that shift rewires your whole life
The resilience truths of bouncing back from setbacks, laughing through the chaos, and still believing in my writing dream even when it feels impossible
This is my ride-or-die space. The place where I’m not pretending. Where I’m not “curated.” Where I’m just… me. Witty, sarcastic, true, and still showing up.
What Kind of “Truths” Am I Talking About?
Let’s be real: most blogs are either too perfect or too depressing. Mine’s gonna be real.
I’ll be talking about:
Creative writing truths: My daily poetry practice, the rollercoaster of literary contests, what it means to build an author voice from nothing, and the self-publishing grind
Caregiving & Hustle truths: The absurdity of dealing with impossible people, the exhaustion of caregiving, the plasma center visits, and the comedy (and pain) of juggling self-employment while barely sleeping
Friendship truths: The heartbreak of friends who quit on you, the people who said they’d be there but weren’t, and learning to cut out what doesn’t serve you
Mistake & Consequence truths: The mistakes I’ve made, the ones I can’t undo, living with what came after, and how that shift changed me—made me sharper, softer, more careful, more honest
Personal finance truths: Budget-conscious living, tax forms, legal forms, and the art of buying secondhand without losing your soul (or giving away your blood for pennies)
Home & RV living truths: Maintenance disasters, kayaking/fishing adventures with my partner, and the freedom (plus headaches) of RV life
Monetization truths: How I’m selling poetry and sky photos online, building an author portfolio, and trying to turn writing into income without selling out
Resilience truths: Bouncing back, humor as healing, and staying true to my writing dream even when life’s a juggle
Making Mistakes and Learning to Live With the Consequences
This one’s heavy. But it’s real.
I’ve made mistakes. Some small. Some that cost me. Some that cost people I cared about. Some I can’t fix no matter how much I want to.
And the thing nobody tells you? Living with the consequences is the real work.
Not the “I apologized, I’m good now” stuff. Not the “I learned my lesson, moving on” post. The actual living with it. The way it shifts you. The way you wake up different. The way you stop trusting yourself the same. The way you start trusting yourself more because you survived your own mess.
That shift? It’s not pretty. It’s not clean. But it’s real.
Mistakes taught me:
I’m not as invincible as I thought — but I’m also more resilient than I knew
I can’t fix everything — and that’s not failure, it’s just truth
Consequences don’t disappear — but they don’t have to destroy me either
Growth isn’t linear — I’ll circle back to the same lesson, just from a different angle
Self-forgiveness is hard work — but it’s the only work that lets me keep going
This blog’s gonna talk about that. Not in a “here’s my inspirational quote” way. In a “here’s the mess, here’s what it cost, here’s how I’m still here” way.
How Do I Want You to Feel After Reading This?
I want you to feel:
Seen – like “this person’s been there too”
Encouraged – like “maybe I can do this too”
A little hopeful – like “okay, today’s not perfect, but I’m still here”
A little amused – because if I can’t laugh at my AC breaking again, I’ll cry
I want you to walk away with something usable: a tip, a spark, a poem, a laugh, or just the permission to be imperfect.
What Makes This Blog Different?
Because there are so many blogs out there. Why another one?
Here’s why:
Most blogs are either about writing or RV living or caregiving.
Mine’s all of them. Because that’s my actual life.
How Often Will I Post?
I’m not gonna ghost you. Here’s the plan:
Poetry: 2–3 times per week (often from my dawn writing sessions)
Stories: 1–2 times per week (caregiving, plasma center, RV, Florida life, friendship heartbreak, mistake stories)
Flash fiction: Every 1–2 weeks
Photo features: Once a week (usually paired with poetry)
So yeah, 3–5 new posts per week. Steady, not burnout. Consistent, not industrial.
Why “Truth Blog”?
Because I’m done pretending.
I’m done pretending self-employment is easy.
I’m done pretending writing’s a straight path.
I’m done pretending RV life is all freedom and sunsets (spoiler: the AC does break).
I’m done pretending I have it all together.
I’m done pretending friends who left were ever really there.
I’m done pretending giving plasma isn’t part of the grind.
I’m done pretending mistakes don’t happen.
I’m done pretending consequences disappear.
I don’t. And you don’t either.
But we’re still here. Still writing. Still showing up. Still laughing through the chaos. Still learning to live with what we’ve done.
That’s what this blog’s about.
So… What’s Next?
This is post #1. The beginning.
From here, you’ll get:
New poems (raw, real, sometimes funny, sometimes heartbreaking)
Funny stories from caregiving and dealing with impossible people
Plasma center updates (the cold, the wait, the hustle)
RV living updates (the good, the bad, the “why is there water on the floor?”)
Friendship truths (the people who left, the ones who stayed, the ones I cut out)
Mistake stories (the mess, the consequences, the shift, the growth)
Tips on selling poetry, photos, and staying frugal as a creative
My journey through literary contests and the grind of building an author career
Honest truths about resilience, humor, and showing up anyway
Final Thought
If you’re a ride-or-die lifer — the kind who shows up even when it’s hard, who laughs through the chaos, who still believes in their dream even when it feels impossible, who gives plasma when the rent’s late, who cuts out what doesn’t serve you, who made mistakes and is still learning to live with the consequences — you’re home.
This is my truth.
This is my space.
This is my blog.
And I’m glad you’re here.
Now let’s get weird. Let’s get real. Let’s get true.
Welcome to the Truth Blog. 🖋️🌅
P.S. If your AC breaks, your rent’s late, you’re giving plasma twice a week, you’re writing poetry at dawn while caregiving by day, friends who said they’d stick around ended up not being friends, and you’ve made mistakes you can’t undo but you’re still here anyway… yeah. We’re gonna be friends.
We packed grief into a 2016 Traverse
alongside chargers that only worked if you held them just right,
gas station coffee,
and enough road snacks to survive either a road trip
or the collapse of modern civilization.
Just my man and I,
rolling out of Fort McCoy with tired eyes
and hearts heavier than the rear suspension probably preferred.
Northbound.k
Toward Manassas.
Toward a celebs there a specific message or feeling you want visitors to take away after visiting this tribute page?
ration of life
for his best friend,
his mother,
and all the versions of ourselves
we'd quietly buried along the way.
Family gathered,
or at least the people technically assigned the title.
Because sometimes family is a warm kitchen and open arms.
And sometimes family is realizing
DNA is just a group project
where half the members never showed up to do the work.
Still,
we mourned.
We remembered.
We sat in rooms full of stories,
some beautiful,
some painful,
some unfinished.
Then somewhere between tears
and highway miles,
the universe tapped us both on the shoulder and said,
"Hey.
You're still alive."
So we listened.
We traded funeral clothes for laughter.
Shot pool like future professionals
with all the accuracy
of intoxicated pirates during an earthquake.
Ordered wings
with the kind of commitment usually reserved for marriage vows
and tax fraud.
Slept in Washington D.C.
within dreaming distance of the White House,
two gloriously exhausted humans
parked beneath history itself,
while presidents past and present
continued not asking our opinions.
We wandered museums,
staring at proof that humans have always been strange:
Entire exhibits dedicated to rocks,
wars,
dinosaurs,
and paintings that look suspiciously like someone spilled soup
and called it expressionism.
Then came South of the Border—
that magnificent fever dream
that exists somewhere between roadside attraction
and evidence exhibit.
We stopped because of course we did.
Some places aren't destinations.
They're obligations.
Then Buc-ee's appeared on the horizon
like a gas-station Valhalla.
We entered for jerky
and emerged three hours later
with gifts,
snacks,
shirts,
possibly a mortgage,
and a deeper understanding
of what capitalism could become if left unsupervised.
And somewhere in all those miles,
between Virginia and D.C.,
between pool halls and museums,
between sorrow and laughter,
between goodbye and what comes next—
life stopped feeling like something happening to us
and started feeling like something we were finally inside of again.
The road taught us this:
Mourning has its place.
But so does hot sauce on your fingers,
terrible pool shots,
tourist traps,
late-night conversations,
and sleeping beside the person
who makes strange motel rooms
and parking lots
feel enough like home.
The truth is,
we left to attend a celebration of life.
Somewhere along the interstate,
we accidentally started having one ourselves.
And maybe that's the point.
Not waiting for life to become easier.
Not waiting for grief to leave first.
Not waiting for the map to make sense.
Just loving each other loudly
through gas stations,
state lines,
wrong turns,
and all the beautifully ridiculous miles in between.
Two people.
One Traverse.
A thousand memories.
And one quiet understanding:
What a wildly improbable gift it is
to still be here,
windows down,
snacks within reach,
with someone worth sharing the ride with.
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