Times I Actually Fall In Love with Being Alive

Ten of them, Even

Yeah, I’m Fucking kidding, I only finished five



So, science and just plain old experience has proven that happier people generally are people who are more grateful people. And science is smart, people. Seriously though, the saying’s we’ve heard again and again like, “count you’re blessings,” and “be grateful for what you have,” or shit like that isn’t just some hogwash. Yeah… I know, I just fucking said hogwash. But it’s easy to name off the basics, like our families and our homes or our jobs, our health, our fat bank accounts, whatever the fuck makes you feel safe and secure enough to be able enough to fall asleep every night, but do you ever stop and think about what really makes you fall in love with being alive? Because someday you won’t be. Alive, that is. And if you have sometime to think about it before you check out of this world forever, a moment or two to reflect about the time you’ve spent here as a visitor… what made you fall in love with living here? With this experience called life? Because most of it fucking sucks, you don’t have to tell me. I’m so well experienced on how shitty this place is that I’m often distracted with plans on how to check out early. So, I’m writing this blog more for myself more than anyone else… kinda like all my blogs, yeah. I know. Doesn’t matter. I need to cry. Alone, looking at only the face of my computer who will look back and not judge and I will feel no shame.



Surprised-Delight is what I’m calling my first love with life. Even as a child I can remember loving the look on my families faces and the sound of shocked laughter when someone is surprised with some good news, or an unexpected gift or seeing someone all of a sudden that they’ve really missed and hadn’t seen in some time. We all know that reaction. Sometimes it may be even be accompanied by laughter through tears (another one of my favorite emotions) but it’s such a happy and moving moment. And for me, I love seeing someone experiencing it more that I love experiencing it myself. Something beautiful about feeling that amount of joy through another human that has always amazed me, and I suppose it always will…



I’ve come to know an old friend, again. One I’ve never quite liked. Some time ago I happily rid myself of this friend. Pain in the ass, cold as ice, always in the way, destroying my shit, ruining my days… then I moved away from the Northwest into Sunny California and had a very happy 12 years winter free. Goodbye Mr. Frost. So long Father Winter (I made him up just now, btw) nothing but blue skies and sunny days ahead. Well, that’s not completely true, either. We did get rain and some fog sometimes. But never did I ever had to step a foot outside and worry that my pinky toe would face a new day any cooler than possibly the low 50’s. Life’s funny, cause here’s my happy ass up here in God’s Country where they love Trump and their women, but they only fuck their step-sister’s and the sheep. Anyways, that’s not where I was going with this. What I’m trying to say is that I hate the cold weather something fierce. It’s more than uncomfortable. I feel cold like a physical pain. I don’t like this shit. Not one bit. When some asks how cold it is and then someone else answers in the single digits, I have thoughts of suicide running through my head. BUT, despite that being one of my top hated things of this world, there’s one sensation that’s a pretty good apology.


Yup, it’s an actual “thing!”

In the early mornings and the evenings when the air is really cool and the ground is mostly covered in shadows and you find that one spot where that one ray of sunlight is pouring through with all it’s got and you step into the sunlight, feel your clothes, your hair, your skin all start to warm and you stop shivering for a few moments. It smells different, it puts you in a different mood like you can feel yourself being energized by that little ray of light. If it weren’t for the intense and stark contrast of temperature outside of that sun ray, you’d never actually know how wonderful that felt. Apricity. And literally the only thing… ONLY thing that I like about winter.



“Ah-Ha!” Moments. Or, as some refer to as the lightbulb moments. When it just clicks. Ya finally get it! Whatever it is, doesn’t matter. The feeling, the experience, the sensation… “aaaaahhhhh! I seeee waaaaachooo were sayin!”

Word. Yeah ya do! I love it. If it’s a math problem, or how to fucking figuring out finally how to build IKEA furniture, or when someone has been painstakingly trying to explain something to you for an hour and you’re only response is to resemble a guppy and squawk out, “WAT?!” every few seconds…

Than a braingasm!! Everything comes into focus, seems brighter somehow… like wtf, wow dude! Your hair is blown back and you just literally felt your brain grow for sure!! And now that you know what you know, you can never, ever un-know it. To me, it’s amazing. I fucking love it when I brain-cum from my braingasms. I try to brain-cum as much as I possibly can. I guess I’m like a Nerv? A part nerd, part perv? Oh? No, just all nerd then? Gotcha.



Hugs. Like, amirte, guys? Good ones, anyway. None of that noodle arm bullshit, or standing four feet away and tapping my shoulders with your palms cuntery. Fuck that shit-sack. That’s a no-go. I mean the kind of hug that wraps you up into a whole other human and as you exhale you’re melting… and all the days stress and all of your body ached and everything you had on your mind melted off right along with the rest. You’re left in the warmth of another living, loving, sentential-being who experiences things very much the same way you do, only this human is special. It’s one of the very few humans that you find comfort in and draw strength from. Their smell, their mere presence makes you happier. But those hugs… humans like that and hugs like those are what give us hope and the endurance to continue every day. Every. day.




I’m more human than you are.


Dogs. Need I say more?

The most honest, pure, devoted, loyal, unconditional loving people I know are all dogs. Not people at all. I’m certain that without their existence on this planet with us, experiencing life by our our side, ever steady, forever our most truest and devote companion, that I would have found no real innocence in this world. Innocence with the heart of a lion, without a thought of selfishness and a presence of constant, enduring joy. Their joy for life can only be amplified by the opportunity to further serve, love and give without restraint to those whose lives they touch. If people where ever to strive to be better in any and all ways, they need only look to man’s best friend for an example.

Many times, in fact, most times in my life my closet friend and only friend has been a furry, four legged goofball whose tall wagged with happiness and never stopped. I moved a lot as a child and learned early in life how people could be. They don’t like change, they don’t like someone who looks different from them. They don’t like people who don’t understand or agree with their customs. I’m an outsider, a nomad, I have no place I call home unless it’s with my dog. The sopport that a bullied kid needs, the company the elderly crave, they lead the blind, they become officer’s of the law and fight wars along us always putting their lives at risk before the people they are to protect. They do it happily and it brings them joy. In fact, I don’t know much that they don’t do in life with joy. They have the ability to forget and forgive their abusers, and to love with the same might again and again. Not for personal gain, no reward, just the experience of living and loving life. Just to be a live. To be always happy to be alive. It’s amazing and inspiring to me. I’m in awe of our best friend. Many times over I wouldn’t be here writing this blog had I not had a dog friend there for me. What a gracious gift or just the luck of the draw that the world gave us this inspiring best friend.



The potential for humanity in humans…

Favorite’s Playlist on Shuffle, I’m Fessing up to the First Five

…and why. Should be fun. I’m just as bipolar with my taste in music as I am in personality. Let’s do this!



I actually got the idea for this blog off of a blog idea generator on Google. Pretty stupid, but it sounded fun. And by this point we all know how much I love to write about me. I mean, why not? I’m very knowledgeable on the subject. I would even go as far as to say that I’m what I know most about above all else. Y’all are in luck. Reading the words of a true expert of forty plus year’s here. If there’s something you wanna know about Ms. Grey, I fucking know it. I’m your man. Er, woman. Whatever. Shall we begin? And you know what? I’m in a decent mood. I’ll even post the songs at the end of the blog for your listening pleasure, if that would so please you. You’re welcome.



I’m using Spotify, and I have it linked in the footed with a handy dandy widget, so you’re welcome to check out my profile, if you wish and see for yourself that I’m obviously a Gen-X, heavily influenced by the 90’s grunge rock scene and pop culture at the time. Probably what happened to my manners, respect for authority, my ability to give a flying fuck and why I battled addiction on and off for a decade in early adulthood. Not to mention I was a high school drop out and guilty of a teenage pregnancy. Why the fuck I’m talking about that…? I don’t know! Cause it’s my blog and I can. Jesus fucking Christ. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but the point I was trying to make here was the playlist I’m going to out on random right now currently has 162 songs on it, but that number is in constant fluctuation, kinda like my moods, but it does have a reoccurring theme and that theme is most of those songs are from the 90’s and the are rock, rock-alternative, grunge-rock and random rap, hip-hop or club music from the era. Then there’s stuff that my kids liked and I kinda picked it up. What you absolutely will not see is country. We all know that’s not really music. Do not debate me on that. I don’t speak fucktard and I’ll just ignore you.


That’s real history. I fact checked it, yo.

All righty, let’s fucking do this, damnit!



Song number one: Yellow by Coldplay; Okay, this song wasn’t a 90’s song. This album, “Parachutes” was released in 2000, the year that my daughter was born. The lyrics to this song are probably meant to be romantic, I don’t rightly know. But to me they sounded of a dedicated and a type of sacrificial love, like the love a mother would have for her children. There where periods of time when my children were young that we couldn’t be together and I had dedicated this song to them. I don’t know that my sons remember that, oddly enough my daughter does. When she got older, she told me she finally understood why I dedicated that song to them. She’s the best daughter in the world. I don’t even care how awesome you think yours might be, you’re wrong. Sure, I’m sure she’s great, but she aint shit compared to how amazing my daughter is. I am her favorite human in the entire world in and of all time, and she is mine. Top that, fucker.


Test me. I will cut a bitch.

Three songs, maybe four played while I typed that out. So… we shall reshuffle. Yeah? Yeah.



Song number two: Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce; okay, so again, not a 90’s rock song. But I am keeping my bipolar promise to you. Amirite? This song came out five years before I was even born. The story behind loving this song goes a little something like this: I’ve said in earlier blogs that my family was very poor growing up. I wanted my own cassette player for years and years. My oldest sister had one and I remember just worshiping the ground she walked on. She’s fourteen year’s older than I am, from my dad’s first marriage. Beautiful! She loved Supertramp, still does. When I was little she had a record player. But when cassette players came out, man! I super wanted one, and I wanted to be pretty and so cool like my sister. Finally, on my ninth birthday my parents had gotten me a small cassette player. I was fucking insane with excitement!!! Thing is, that’s it. They were tapped out. My sister had long moved out by then and I hadn’t, obviously, bought any cassettes. Like, why would I? So my mom borrowed two cassettes from a friend, or got them at a garage sale or something? I don’t remember. One was Gloria Estefan, I didn’t care much for her. And the other was Jim Croce. Time in a Bottle and Bad, Bad Leroy Brown where my favorite songs until I turned ten and got New Kids on the Block’s first cassette tape. Remember those guys??? Hahahaha! Anyway, I always wanted Time in a Bottle to be my wedding song. Being married twice, you would think I would have had that happened, but it didn’t. Just as well, both marriages ended.


can you have more than two?


And moving right along…



Song number three: Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town by Pear Jam. See?!?!?! Told you! Alt-Rock! 90’s, Boo-Yeah! This not only has one of the longest song titles, like, fucking ever, but it should have been named something like Fade Away or Hearts and Thoughts. But that’s probably why Eddy Vedder is a musical genius who will forever be a legend and I’m reliving my glory days through a blog nobody fucking reads. Amirite? I’m always right. The album is Vs. and was released in 1993. I was 14 years old. This is still one of my most favorite songs of all time. My closest, dearest, life long friend of thirty-four years and I spent summers listening to PJ (Pearl Jam) and loved all their albums. There isn’t a song by them from that decade that doesn’t remind me of being a teenager and of a friend so close that she was more to me than a sister. I say was because a year ago she has decided to end our friendship over a man. It happens, I know. It’s just never happened to us before. Her and I grew up together, helped each other through the hell that was our childhood, our boyfriends, drugs, homelessness, teenage pregnancies, we raised our children together, we were always the maid of honor at one another’s wedding’s. Second to none, she was my human. Because of her existence, the trust and the deep rooted bond that I had with her since I was seven years old, I actually had faith that there were more like her. That I may, someday, be able to have more happy, healthy and trustful relationships. Now, over her man not liking me, and unwanted dog and $4,000, a friendship literally consisting of a lifetime has been completely dissolved. I’ve made many efforts over the last year to resolve things, as her and I always could. It hurts more deeply that I can say. But she’s a ghost to me now but her own choice, I’m still here should she ever need me… for me, all that’s left is Pearl Jam.



“Thanks for the friendship, thank you for every time you made me smile. Thanks for the love you showed me, even though it was only for a little while. It’s true my heart is broken, and yes my eyes did cry. But the pain is almost over, now because I’m learning I have to say goodbye…

Even though we promised we never would unless it really was time. It’s time. Bye, Paula. Love you.




Another Fucking tangent, I know. I’m a middle aged, empty nester, twice divorced woman with mental health issues who suffers from chronic loneliness, severe poverty and has a chihuahua. Overall, I fell I’m handling it pretty well, ok?



Song number four: Wicked Game – Acoustic, Live by Stone Sour, performed in 2005, a remake of Chris Isaak’s original song written in 1989. I loved this song growing up, it breaks my heart and moves my heart at the same time. I remember watching the MTV video and thinking it was so erotic. This beautiful half naked woman, perfect body, just kinda rolling on the beach and lots on sand on her boobs….? Lots of shots of that anyway…. And sometimes (Chris Isaak, I’m assuming?) rolls around with her and makes out with her. Then, at the end of the video he just walks away leaving her laying there… like a boss!! But it’s sad, though. They lyrics are haunting and raw and make me feel like what love makes me feel like. Scared… It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do. I never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you and I never dreamed that I’d lose somebody like you. Fuck that!! No, I don’t wanna fall in love this world is only gonna break your heart. You know what I mean?? Shit’s not worth the risk. I’ve tried it, like a lot of times. Sure, when it’s good, it’s great! But in the end… Nobody loves no one.



Okay, and last, but surely not least…. you excited? I am. let’s get this over with and fuck this blog in the throat! Yeah!



Song number five: Fine Again by Seether. This is on Disclaimer II album released in 2003, but I didn’t really start listening to it until about 2006 after my first divorce. I was 26-27 years old and during that period of my life I was raising three very young children, going to college full time online, had burred my daughter just a few years prior and my home had burned to the ground a year prior. To top it all off I had just started dating a guy that would make the next two years of my life a living hell by beating the life out of me every time he got drunk, which was by the way, every single night. This album got me through so much of every single emotion that all of this brought on, You have no idea.



Yeah, I know, I’ve dropped a lot of way more interesting blog story topics on you than just merely talking about my playlist. Probably why I’m not more popular. Thing is, my life has been interesting and entertaining to those on the outside looking in. For me it has been extremely traumatic. And every time I’m asked what happened in great detail I have to relive the trauma. I’m just now, in mid-life starting to heal from my past as I still face incredible hardship currently. Maybe someday I’ll have a better memoir, a better blog… a better life legacy story to leave behind for my son for his birthday present.



But for today I have for you some of the ways I managed some of the stressful memories that I have of my past that I’m able to share that aren’t so hard. I have my love for 90’s music and pop culture. I have my profanity. I have my ego covered in spikes. Hopefully that’s still somewhat entertaining. If not, next time I’ll ask one of you to go video yourself deep throating a cactus and I’ll share it on here just so you can prove you’re actually more fun to watch deep throating than I am. Yeah? Good deal. Now, go piss off, or get pissed on, whatever suits your fancy.


Always Yours, April Grey

Thankfully there’s always been music

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Hold the Fuck Up!

Aren’t You Dying to Know More About Me and What I Think?

Yeah, I Fucking Thought So.

I don’t know if y’all knew this about me, but I’m an Aries, bitches. Go ahead, y’all can sit your asses back down now. This might be a read. We’re gonna hash this out. What’s your horoscope sign mean? Does it really seem to fit your personality and life events? And how much do you really think is true? And when I say you, I mean me. We’ll be talking about me today, as usual.

See, my experience in the “occult,” I suppose we could call it, might go back a tad further that I let on. Those questions I assaulted you with? Yeah, I already know the answers to. This is no new subject to me. I’m going to answer them about me for you. You’re welcome. My point is to be objective, here. I was raised on this “the stars have the answers and the universe has mapped your destiny and karma has debts you owe,” kinda shit while you were deep throating your very own cocktail of bullshit about a cheating wife who convinced her husband she was still a virgin while pregnant with the son of a deity. Don’t you fucking judge me. You got the Jesus guilt. I worry of no hell when my time here is done. But we are not here to debate religion, morals, whose right or wrong, or if I need Jesus. I don’t, but thank you, anyway. Please don’t fill my in box with bible quotes and prayers, or threats. One I won’t read and the other just isn’t very nice, now is it?



Aries are the superheroes of the zodiac. They are bold, fast and independent, taking problems and head-butting them into the ether. As the first sign of the zodiac, Aries coincides with spring. They are the season of life after death, the loud alarm that wakes you up in the morning, the Technicolor of Oz after black-and-white Kansas. Aries is the life force that says, “Not today, Satan!” and charges into battle. The ego on these rams can be hard to roll with sometimes, but they are as quick to make up as they are to fight. You’ve got to love them! 

Kiki O’Keeffe https://www.purewow.com/wellness/aries-personality


I HEAR THAT PHRASE WAY TOO OFTEN


So, there’s that. Now, I have like about ten blogs up. Maybe five actual blog pages. If you’ve actually read them all (you haven’t) or possibly more that one (it’s a possibility) than that statement about isn’t too far fetched. A lot of people who know me personally would probably agree with Kiki, there.



A quick run down on the stats. Aries are the first sign of the Zodiac. Known as the children of the Zodiac, but also the Pioneers, the Leaders. Our color is red, hence my chosen font color for this page. Aries was the God of War in Greek Mythology, so we get a bad rap for being aggressive and egotistical.


Just because I make it look easy to wear this crown, does not mean it’s not heavy. Do not challenge a weight you cannot bear. ~ Unknown

But due to out child-like nature, we’re actual like soldiers in training. Like sure, we could hurt you, but we don’t really want to and we don’t say mad for long. Often, minutes after getting upset we tend to forgive quickly and quite genuinely forget why the whole shit show stated in the first place. Our ruling planet is Mars, the planet of War, again, but it also rule the head and the ego. We tend to be over-thinkers. Yes, we have egos. Sometimes, misplaced or over-inflated. Again, we’re children, though. Tons of energy, still quiet innocent and naturally we are good at most things we put our minds to. Because we’re aggressive and naïve, we also become very competitive. But we always win, so it really only encourages our bad behavior. Do you see why we come off as crazy? We’re doomed bi-polar from birth. Ya know? Sad, really.

So, is sweet, Ms. Grey, our beloved blogger like this? Does she have these qualities? I mean… she cusses a lot! She does challenge anyone (all the ten people a day who read her shit) on just about anything she writes. That story she wrote to her son was pretty… uh, well, childish. Swear words, honesty, she even made inappropriate jokes. She called his dad a sperm donor. And the one about sex and blow jobs…. oh my. She is so going to hell. Why do we read this shit? She is funny, though. And hot. Like, really fucking hot.


High sex drive, too… did I forget to mention that?

She’s and Aries. There’s nothing not Aries about her. Not since childhood.


To be a Queen and a child…

But wait… didn’t I say something way at the beginning before I started going on and on and on about how awesome I am (and hot) and good at everything, but it’s not my fault if I seem a little crazy for I am but I child, the universe made me this way and I only seem just a tad bi-polar, but bitch, I will fuck you up! I’ll fucking cut a hoe!



I’ve known this shit, people, since I literally was a child! Objectivity, was my point. God! Was no one paying attention? I realize it’s easy to be distracted by my natural stunning beauty, my charm, wit, amazing sense of humor, amazing talents and the ability to captivate an audience, but fuck people!! I’m more than just a pretty face. If you were paying any attention AT ALL, Kiki said it very clearly,.. I’m quick. I’m a thinker.



You were probably raised as a Jesus worshipper, correct? Assuming that your culture is similar to mine. Probably a first world county, English speaking (or it’s one of the languages of your culture at least), have access to the internet and time to waste reading a bullshit blog such as this instead of having to worry about war, sickness, or starvation. So, since you were taught about Christ since you were a child, and your parents and most other authority figures in your childhood told you that you were Christian, you’re a grown, adult Christian. Maybe you’re not Christian, but believe in a deity of another sort that you share a similar belief system with among family, friends, community, ect. The religion, the deity, doesn’t matter to me. That’s not the point, My point is that you were (or most likely could’ve been) brought up in that belief system or influenced by it in some way, and then so identified with it. Well, since I was little, I was told I am an Aries.


No, boy… I tell ya. They do NOT.

I was told what Aries do, how they behave, how they feel, how they react, ect. How am I now, not to assume that I only have these traits because I was taught to? It’s far easier to understand that I learned what Aries do, and so I did and they did (monkey see, monkey do) then it is to understand that the universe and karma and the energy from the alignments of the planets influenced my soul as it traveled through the detentions to this one at the time I was born, and now so I carry these energies along with me as do all other Aries people who where born under the same energies and influences.


IF YOU’RE DUMB ENOUGH TO CHALLENGE ME ON THIS, I ALREADY KNOW MY BALLS ARE BIGGER

And yessssss….. on the odd chances there’s a fellow astrologer out there is some shitty-bitch Karen-like voice all like, “Meh… It’s not so simple, you’re not just your sun sign, you’re influenced by all the planets and the nodes and the aspects and fakken blah and shitten meh, meh… blah fakk…” you know, like in that voice? YES! Karen, I fucking know!! I’ve been doing natal charts by hand, like with books and studying moon cycles and going to the fucking library to look up where fucking Venus was on August 8, 1956 at 8:18 am to get that shit done sine I was twelve, so go deep throat a cactus and don’t write me a cuntie email. You already know I can out-cunt your ass.




So, in conclusion, I just would like to really draw you’re attention to the point that I don’t have any more answers than you do, or the next Karen or Wendy or Jack-Off or Henry. Literally, none of us have a clue what’s going on, I really enjoyed having this opportunity to brag about how fucking insanely amazing I am, and thank you, dear reader, for putting up with me. Well, that is, if you still are.

Just so it’s not a complete waste of your time, (of course it obviously wasn’t. You enjoyed yourself immensely) if you have any questions about your sign or astrology in general, go hit up my contact me page and send it my way. I’ll do my best to sooth your curiosities or calm your confusions should you have any. And if you just don’t give a shit about fuck, well piss off with ya then.


ARIES AS FUCK, APRIL GREY


ARIES ARE THE RAMS…. I MADE THIS LONG AGO ON MY IG. “EVIL LITTLE GOAT” BY PEARL JAM OBVIOUSLY WRITTEN FOR YOURS TRUELY. ENJOY!

My Try at Taking Snaps

Following Father’s Legacy For Fun




RIP Dad 3.11.43-9.27.16

My father was many things. He was a Gunsmith. He was a biker. He was a mountain man. He was a hippie. He was a father. He, for a long while, was a photographer. Somewhere, on a digital file out there his kind grandson, my nephew, uploaded over a thousand of his photos off of black and white film. (Once we locate it, I’ll add some of his work to this blog as well.) Currently, on my phone I have about four thousand photos. In my Google cloud exists about nine thousand. I have a few conveniences that my dad, didn’t obviously, like my phone is also my camera, so it’s always with me. I don’t have to purchase film or have it developed. I don’t need actual storage for my pictures. I can edit them, delete them, retake them, and I have them with me where ever I go. Best of all, I can share them with the world. Wither they care to look at them or not doesn’t really matter. They’re out there, in the digital world, in the data that now is part of an inter-global community for all time and for anyone to see if they so choose.

My father’s photo’s are beautiful. He studied. He bought good camera’s. Learned about angels and contrast and all that fancy jazz. It was a learned skill. I bought a fancy Galaxy Note that buy the touch of a few buttons, and a cropping tool, I get the desired effect. But my dad didn’t know that he did share one thing with me, my siblings and it even passed down to his grandchildren… you have to be able to notice something beautiful or notice when it appears to be beautiful to make a good picture. At least, that’s my opinion. Maybe it’s not always beautiful, but it does have to have some affect on the human emotion. The ability to touch someone in a way. A picture of your children may not be all that interesting to me, as adorable as Annabelle may be, but a picture of my children can bring me to tears at times.

I decided to share this post for two reasons. One, I miss my father. He passed away just over four years ago. And two, he left behind the affect to invoke beauty within me, so I thought to share all these years of stealing seconds of time where I found that beauty, with you, dear reader. If you’re there, or you’re not.

With Love, April Grey

“Grief is the price we pay for love.”

~Queen Elizabeth II

My dad with my oldest sister to the side, taking a “selfie” in a giant mirror in a thrift store in santa cruz, california 1974

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