Worth It.

Can my job just be, “enjoy my life to the fullest” with little bouts of “yes” and “thank you”?

I can’t believe I can do whatever I want.
I am young, I am single, I am at an age where the things I do now are perfectly driven by decision and experience, but I’m just naive enough to thirst for new experiences and revisit my favorites over and over.

Why am I not taking advantage of this right now?

… Maybe that’s what I’ll do after I’m through with my commissions. As a reward. No more slacking. I just like — I get paid so much more for my real work. I don’t know. I definitely underpriced myself recently, but I wanted to go by what the community wanted to contribute. It was an experiment. It went well, but can I survive on that much a month?

I want my own studio. I want to be able to pay to have concrete floors I can fuck up with paint, and open windows to let out the smell of turpentine and fixatives — I want that. I want to be able to afford that on my own. That costs money.

I want to be a professional artist in the sense that I can afford that sort of “career”. I want to spend my time painting in a studio and creating beautiful art.

I’m going to collapse on my bed for a second and just drool thinking about that.


For the love and effort I put into everything I do and want to put into everything I do, the payment does make a huge difference. I just need to think more about myself, and about having this be my life. My business. I could be an artist. I learned that in 2013.

I’m laughing.
In disbelief, mainly.

I’m going to be an artist.


I’m going to be an artist!


The Sherilynn from my childhood is screaming.

Go for your dreams. The only thing that’s stopping you is you, along with the effort you are willing to put into mastering it. Get to work. Stop being lazy.

My consulting really is a side-business. It’s never been my “job” because it’s just not … A job, really. And art has always been something I’ve also enjoyed doing on the side. But with the weight I’ve decided to put into pursuing art this year, it’s like…

Anything is possible.
That’s what I realized.
I could do anything.
I really could.

But y’know, considering how short life is and the millions of things in it that I can do, why would I want to spend my time doing exactly what everyone else has done? Being me, I get a lot of crazy opportunities to do weird things. And I dunno. I usually say no if I don’t find something interesting enough to spend my time on.

There are things I do value — like time with friends, the people I care about, my family — but when it comes to general life living, or anything to do with boys and dating, really, I’m a path-digger. I like to weed through the crap and find those roads that lead to discovery and inspiration. Create something because of it. Because of that journey. Because that’s how I live my life.

Maybe that’s why I sit around in my apartment so much. Because I’m always waiting for someone to offer me to do something.

Forget that.
I need to get out more. Lol.

But y’know. Running again sort of helps with that. I used to write the craziest entries when I was working out — endorphins are like a whole ‘nother world.

My early clients with art — I feel like I’m a stock and they invested in me. And I’m kind of flattered by that. I under evaluated myself. Despite what everyone’s paid for now, my stock is rising. I mean, because that’s what I’m putting my effort into. My personal value. How I feel about myself. And what I’m worth.

Why am I writing right now?
I should be on a run. Lol. Whoops.
This always happens.



PS. I have an art website coming soon. I’m really excited about it, but it’s so on the back burner for both me and my developer, Lol. Sorry. For now, you can see a lot of my stuff on Instagram and Facebook, and I try to keep my Tumblr active.  I also try to end my posts in complete

What My Unedited Manuscript Chapters for NaNoWriMo Sorta Look Like.

Today and for the past week or so that I’ve been out of the city, spending time with family made me realize just how encouraging the people around you are when they love you and truly care about you. I am blessed to have one of the most amazing families on the planet.

I would say … We’re not perfect.
Just like everyone else.
But love is unconditional, y’know?



“Saying it once is fine. But saying it a million times is what you like to call ‘annoying’.”  He pursed his lips, waiting for my reaction.
“… Touche.” Because he was right, of course. [Except "Touche" with one of those apostrophe E things, because I'm not sure how to do that on this keyboard right now.]

Another thing I’ve learned about myself — I’m growing up.

I guess, at this age, it’s not okay to just scream and cry until you get what you want. For one, it’s a waste of energy, and in my experience, crying and whining about stupid first world shit is bullshit. And screw you if you think I curse too much in my writing because I am perfectly delightful to be around in person. And screw — whoa.

Harsh vibe.
My bad.

I can get a little passionate sometimes. Which is something I’m also trying to control. I can get out of hand, and it’s just not a very admirable trait. Sometimes, I just do it because it’s interesting. But I’m so sensitive to emotions, like … The scope of my ridiculous experiences tickle my empathy nipples.

I’m snickering right now.
Because writing is hilarious.

When I was participating in NaNoWriMo, [In Robotic Voice: "THE BEST WRITING EXPERIENCE EVER"], I was writing every single day because it was important for me to make a deadline. But my book was … I look back on that experience and the words I wrote, and I think, “I should have just written down my ideas for the book. I should have written down the bare bones at least. Maybe not things perfectly formed, but at least a seed planted and waiting for me to revisit and grow. But sometimes, I just wrote diary entries. Like, experiences doing NaNoWriMo. Writing down exactly when and why I would fill in these terrible –

Here’s –

I think –



One sec.

[Fetches a glass of water.]

[Well, it's not really a glass -- it's like this Big Red Protein Shake Gulpy Thing.]

[Edit: I should say, I did write down the bare bones of some things, but these were only snippets of the final version for my NaNoWriMo novel. They weren't the whole pie, y'know? Only the basic ingredients. You gotta' cook em up a little. Prepare them the right way. Why am I using so many suggestive food phrases? I just wish I wrote more. I guess I still can. I guess I can do whatever I want. Lol. Sweet.]

Coming back to my laptop, I’m re-reading what I just wrote, sipping on this delicious BRPSGT — NORLY; it’s delicious — thinking, I should re-write that entire thing.

But having done NaNoWriMo, a lot of novel-writing is that first draft. It’s the most interesting part. It’s where the idea starts, but a couple edits later, turns that thing into fucking — there’s a curseword for you – gold. So in your first draft, you get to be you. You get to write down your idea, along with a whole bunch of other ideas that may not be related, but help an editor understand your mind.

So in writing these manuscripts, you need to think about your audience regardless of whether it’s your first draft or not. Your mind must be interesting as well. You, the author, need to have a story to tell.

I’ve written my story way too many fucking times.
Can I just curse?! Stop giving me reasons to be self-conscious, guys. Have you ever heard me curse often and loudly in person? I mean, aside from in drunken and heated debates, since those are the best times to curse, and I stand by my explanation?

Sometimes I like fanmail.
Sometimes, not so much.

I’m kind of … Weirded out by love letters. I get so many. And they just don’t make sense to me. You can’t possibly love me without knowing who I am. You’re only getting this weird Internetty side. And this isn’t me. This is only a piece of my puzzle. And if you judge me by my writing — oh man. Please. Just. Don’t do that to me. It doesn’t make sense. You have to evaluate me as a whole. And if meeting me will help you out, I promise you, I am pretty shitty in person.

Just kidding.
I’m cool.
Too cool.
Sometimes so frighteningly cool it’s unnerving.

Kidding again.
Kind of.

Also, I’ve never been rude to anyone in person unless they’ve deserved it. I’m a nice person, but I have limits just like everyone else. Please. I would appreciate it if you allowed me my space to breathe and enjoy myself. Sometimes, just changing the topic with me is a great way to sweep the bullshit off the table. Sometimes. Unless it’s serious. Then you need a talking to, buddy.

One time, I was rude to someone because he was making one of my friends in high school really uncomfortable. She looked super upset, but she was too nice to stand up for herself. I couldn’t take it. I told him to shut up, and that he was being a “jerk”, and being very disrespectful. He barked at me — something about how I had no ass. And my first thought was, “Do people actually care about that?” I do, but for different reasons. Because I like looking at my butt in the mirror.

Insults don’t make sense to me.
Are you saying I’m supposed to evaluate myself based on your opinion?
As Spock would say, that’s “illogical.”

At this point in my entries, I usually stop and look over my work, trying to see what I should cut out, edit, or chop and turn into other posts about topics I clearly need to expound upon. But NaNoWriMo has sort of undone that first instinct in me. Instead, it’s taught me to spill out creativity raw so I at least have the ingredients for my story on the table. Because, and I forget who said this, “It is easier to edit than it is to write.” Or something like that. So just get it all out on the table.

I dunno.
My writing has changed.

When it comes to my writing, sometimes,I want to write a story. And other times, I just want to see my thoughts on paper.

But lately, when I feel something, I want to draw. Or paint. Or … Y’know. Subtly hide phallic symbols in everything I draw because this vow of chastity is killing me. What am I doing to myself?

I dunno.

Is this my career?

I get so many votes to pursue different things. And I just don’t like that it matters. Metrics are cool, but not when it comes to determining the pathway for of my life. I just kind of want to do what I want to do within the limits of comfortably doing them. And I figure, that’s kind of an okay thing to ask for. In fact, that seems perfectly acceptable to me.

I would like to write.
But since I can’t write a cool column for a magazine or Entertainment site or whatever, I’ll just, y’know, write my “column” here. And I can’t believe how long some of you have been reading me. My mind is blown. Would you follow me if I wrote for a magazine that paid me to enjoy my life and write about what happens to me? Because even I would read that.


You do not want to unleash this tiger.


Thank you for giving the tiniest little shit.

With a pleased grin,
Sherilynn Macale

PS. The original title for this blog post was, “Fuck linking. Seriously. I’m sick of it. Look for it yourself.” I decided against that.

Into 2014.

Screen Shot 2013 12 31 at 1.28.01 PM Into 2014. * heycheri sherilynn macale

This was definitely not my best year. In fact, I think this was my most depressing year yet.

The majority of my 2013 was spent preoccupied over a physically/mentally abusive and psychotic ex boyfriend who was so scared of losing me that he basically locked me up in a cupboard like Harry Potter and prevented me from pursuing anything that made me happy or seeing anyone who might make me smile other than him. By the time he had me completely under his control, I was so fucked up in the head that I had no idea who I was anymore.

But y’know.
I loved him.
It was my first heart-wrenching, insane, passionate, give-up-everything-for-someone kind of love.
Before he went nuts, he was the “best thing to ever happen to me”, and he made me so happy — I can’t even describe the elation I felt when I was with him.

But our happiness was short lived.
And I should’ve walked the moment he bruised me up.
I should’ve walked for so many other reasons too, but …


I’m sort of just sitting here now staring at this post, eyes brimming with tears thinking, “What was I writing this fucking blog entry about again?”

2013 was really fucking painful for me. There were so many days where, honestly, the pain was so bad that I wanted to kill myself. How does that happen? When I look at myself now and I think about how blessed I am, it baffles me. But then I remember the isolation, how he would threaten me if I ever dared to see my friends, post a picture of myself anywhere, go out for a drink, or even write. I remember how he took away everything from me that ever made me happy, so that when I eventually lost him too, I felt like my entire fucking world had ended.


It sickens me to even talk about this.
It’s pride, mostly. Because I can’t believe I was stupid enough to let something like that happen to me.
And as much as I don’t want to admit it, that relationship defined a lot of my 2013.


But in 2013, I also learned a lot about what really matters.

I learned the value of family and good friends. I learned that when I’m alone or sad, I don’t have to be alone, and that amazing people are only a phone call away. I learned that people will aways try to tell me what to do and how to live my life, but that in the end, the only thing that matters is how I feel. I learned that decisions are temporary, and that I have the freedom to change my mind any time I want to, so I shouldn’t stress about pursuing new experiences — especially because I always have the opportunity to try again. I learned to stop overanalyzing my life, and that I don’t need a reason for everything I do.

I learned that I am not perfect, and that I will always make mistakes. I learned that I am a complex human being, and that although I can be a sweet little angel when I want to be, I can also be a naughty little bitch — and that’s okay. I learned that I am clearly a rebounder who dragged the bullshit from my last relationships into my new ones, and that I suffered from bouts of jealousy and co-dependency because of it. And I learned that I should probably be single for at least a year before I decide to date again, because I’ve never been single for that amount of time before, and I deserve a break from dudes.

I learned I really like dogs. I learned that yoga is fucking awesome and being fit is the best thing ever. I learned to enjoy the little things. I learned that makeup is great, but that I love my own skin so much more. And that I love sunny days and laying out in bikinis with friends drinking wine in the park or at the beach. I learned I love pursuing goals and raising money for charities. I learned that it’s okay to totally geek out over something, be a total freak, or act like a fool, because I will never meet the sort of people who I want to meet if I don’t fully lose myself in the things that I love. And I finally understand what my dad meant when he said, “Boys will be boys”. I learned that when I put my mind to it, I can do fucking anything.

I re-learned that I love art. I love art so, so, so fucking much.
I learned that writing a book is a lot harder than it looks.
I learned that modeling is still lot of fun.
I learned that I really love to dance.

I learned to be shameless and fearless, because I am the only person who can be me, so I should be as me as humanly fucking possible.

In 2014, my goals are very simple, and very me.

  1. No more tears. Not over boys, anyway.
  2. Pursue art like my life depends on it.
  3. Keep up my no-dating-for-a-year rule (it ends on September 2, 2014).
  4. Leave my apartment more. Lol.
  5. Just do what I want to do. 2014 is my year to be completely selfish.

I’m so grateful for where I am right now. In the past few months, I’ve learned and rediscovered so much about myself and the world around me — I’m happier than I’ve ever been, and I love my fucking life so much it hurts. In 2014, I plan to completely work on me, and to be as me as I can. Fearlessly and shamelessly.

Into the future, baby.
Let’s do this.

With bright eyes,