Operations Manager and Behavioral Modification Specialist...

When my first son was born, just under 11 years ago, I left my job and decided that I was going to be the very best at-home-mother there ever was. I worked very hard at it. So far, so good, my boys have given me grey hairs and crows feet (maybe that's actually from age), I have turned into a stress-closet-eater (who would have ever thought such a thing existed?). My fuse is shorter, I try not to sweat the small stuff even though some small things drive me to the edge and back.

Every person that I ever told "I'm a stay at home mom." said, "Oh, that's great! I could never! How do you stand it? It'll make all the difference in the world." I believed it. I thought, this is something that will make my kids lives better and give me something to look back on and think "Look at what I accomplished, I gave up all those years to better the lives of these two men." I have continued to believe, this will count for something or to quote the movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind "This means something!". I do believe with all my heart that my boys will be better off for the time I have given them, hopefully they don't remember much of the days when my patience was non-existent and I just couldn't force myself to play a board game or shape play-doh with them...

I am now in the market of looking for employment. It is not easy trying to find a job with a schedule that works around my boys school and The Man's work schedules, but it must be done. it is high time that I contribute to society and leave the comforts of my own home. I would like to say the house is running so smoothly that I am bored and have nothing else to do, this is not the truth. There are always, ALWAYS dishes or laundry that can be done, I just need to get out of this house. It has been a long 11 years. As I begin to fill out applications and attempt to write out a resume I realize something... it looks like I have done nothing. As far as an application or resume are concerned, everything that I have been and have done for most of my adult life is null and void, it doesn't even count. I read somewhere, in my searchings for excellent resume tips, that prospective employers are not interested in employment you may have had 10 to 15 years back...well that kind of leaves me high and dry. I fill out the application and the only recent references I have (of which there is space for 4 to 5) are other mothers. People I talk on the phone to and talk about my day with. Work experience?? Does doing 2 loads of laundry a day and dishes at least once a day count? Where can I write "Sitting down to do homework with the boys for 2 hours after school"? Excellent diaper changer, crisis negotiator, lawyer, judge, police officer, gym teacher, chef, comedian, story teller, emt...the list goes on and on and none of it counts, when asked what I have been doing for the last 11 years all I can say is "being a mom". That doesn't get you far in the work force.

My applications look like something is missing from them and my resume is painfully short, sweet, and lacking. Maybe some future employer will see "being a mom" and they will take it for what it really is, a tough job that requires an amazing work ethic (even when you are at death's door you have to wake up and do the job), great self starting abilities and organizational skills, and a great sense of humor to get you through the day....whistle while you work.

And that...is all I have to say about that.

Gym rats...

I have become one of "those people", one of those people who wear workout attire all around town, one of those people who say "I could probably get together in the afternoon, I go to the gym in the morning." I also like to use the ever-popular gym rat phrase, "I've been working out." as if that is all the explanation anybody could need. You can use "I've been working out." for pretty much anything, "Wow, you're really strong!" "I've been working out." ... "Is it healthy to eat that much pasta in one sitting?" "I've been working out." ... "Why are you so mean?" "I've bee... ok, so maybe there are a few instances where it can't be used but for most questions in life, once you are a gym rat, that particular answer can be used.
I never realized how many interesting characters attend the gym on a regular basis. There is the middle aged latin man who believes that he is Don Juan, he stands around most of the time watching all the ladies walk past in their spandex pants, he does a few reps of bicep curls (I suspect he is trying to impress all the ladies and maybe break a sweat) and then walks to the water fountain slowly while slowly scanning for anything female he may have missed.
There is the very old man who is in strangely good shape, at least his muscles are, his skin is not. His skin hangs on his lean legs and arms (of course he wears shorts and tank tops) he walks in very slow motion, I do believe that he may be a very early model of the terminator underneath that hanging skin.
There is the middle aged man that has recently lost 150 lbs and tells anybody and everybody that will listen, even as they are walking away, how he does it and how great he is.
There is the older divorced woman who is looking for a new start, she like the middle aged men that have recently lost large amounts of weight and are in good shape. She stops to talk to them and ask them questions about how they lost all of their weight and feigns interest in their droning speech about how they could do anything, meanwhile she is eyeing up his newly gained muscles... the list could go on and on.
I wonder what "tag" I fit into? I wonder if anyone notices the soccer mom that wears her workout pants too tight and sweats like a sprinkler watering the lawn in the middle of August, I wonder if they notice me watching them and playing over their stories in my head and imagining their entire life story? I guess that's what you get for being a gym rat. Hopefully one day I will fit into the "Daaaaaang, that girl does not look like she has had kids, I want to look just like that!!" tag, until then I will keep watching all the other creatures in the gym and distract myself so that I can actually stop thinking about my workouts...

Recent covers.

Nook, e-reader covers that were commissioned for Christmas presents. I did a very different style with all of these because they were very personalized.

On growing up...

I have always believed that only grown ups drink real coffee. Coffee from a coffee maker, in your kitchen, that tastes like coffee and not like chocolate and sugar. I never liked that kind of big girl coffee so I never felt like I could be a real adult. The other thing "real" adults do is drink wine, that is something I will never do so I am still safe on the immature status.
This Christmas season I decided that I needed to stop spending $4 a cup on fancy peppermint mocha's, my true loves, and get an actual grown up coffee maker. I did it. I bought some fancy creamers, because I am not tough enough yet to drink black coffee, and I jumped in head first. Not bad, not bad at all.
The amount of energy I have gained is awe inspiring, the coming down is another thing. I can get alot more done during the day...if I want to. I wouldn't want to set everybody's expectations too high so I pace myself.
Now that I am all grown up and behave like an adult another problem presents itself, there are consequences to every action you know, I am getting addicted to my coffee. I can't function without it in the morning and in the evenings I feel as if I am coming down from my caffeine high...something I always wanted to avoid was addiction to anything.
My new best friend Coosi (it's given name is Cuisinart) tells me it's alright to be addicted to coffee. Everyone is doing it, it's normal, it's expected. It's legal. It shouldn't be!! Now that I am invested and my parents gave us some special organic, fair-trade coffee beans for Christmas...I think there is no looking back. I'm going headlong and ignoring the symptoms of my addiction. I am listening to the whisperings of "Coosi" telling me to not pay attention to anything negative, it's all good when I have my coffee.
This growing up thing is not as exciting as I imagined it would be but, I'm trying it on for size. If it's not a good fit I can always back out...right???
-A

Spring!

I have a great love for all the seasons, my favorite is definitely fall but that is not what I am writing about today.

There is something amazing about spring that cannot be denied.

After a long cold winter, just as you begin to consider how long it might take another person to realize you are missing and brave the elements to come and check on you only to find that you have passed on and left your body, pasty from sun deprivation with dark circles underneath your eyes from winter depression clutching a tropical picture, ripped out of a magazine, in your cold lifeless fingers... the first hint of spring peeks it's green head through the snow on the ground and there is hope. A sparkle begins in the corner of your eyes, you start to feel the edges of your mouth turn up at the corners in a smile that cracks the frown that has settled in for the last 3 months or so. Color returns to your cheeks.

I step outside in the morning, early, and breathe in deeply. The air smells green, don't ask me how a color can have a smell but it does. There are very few scents in the world that can compare to dewy green morning. The birds sing loudly and everything is waking up. The grass is wet but in a pleasant way. Walking through it first thing in the morning, you are the very first one to ever step on this fresh dew, makes me feel as though I am a part of something secret and just discovered. As if no other person has ever experience the morning that way, knowing this not to be true but the fresh beginning of every spring day can make you feel that way.

Sitting outside in the afternoon sun underneath a tree and staring up at through it, seeing the sun peeking in between the leaves that are barely rustling and spinning in the warm breeze. Every branch of the tree is bursting with green, like an explosion of budding leaves opening and peeking their fresh little faces out at the sunshine waking them up after a long winter's sleep.

I know there are people out there who use weed killer to get rid of sunflowers in their yards, I know they are weeds and tend to take over your grass if you don't deal with them accordingly. I just can't help myself, I LOVE them!! They are like little spots of sunshine all over the grass, and who hasn't picked one up after they turn into little puffs of white fuzz and blown the seeds, watching them float in all directions...

So get outside, enjoy the spring, feel the sunshine on your face and breathe in every fresh green smell, listen to all the noises of creatures waking from winter...

Finished painting...

The finished painting. The title is "Blue" and it has already been Sold.

I guess that makes me a professional artist??

More Journals...

This journal was made for my brother Zech's birthday present. I had a bit of a tough time figuring out what to do with it. Most of my journals have been more "girlish". He works with metal quite a bit so I decided to go a little more industrial and this is what I came up with...
This robot journal is a pocket size. My brother liked his full-size journal so much that he requested a smaller one. I hope that he decided he needed a smaller one so that he can take it with him everywhere he goes and bring it out for the whole world to see...
I had two "K" journals to make in the same month so I tried to make them as different as possible.

on a side note

I would really like a new name for my blog. I mentioned the name "Sweaty palms" to The Man and he greatly discouraged the idea. I figured it made sense now that I am trying to take pictures of my inspiration written down on my hands...he said that anyone hearing the name would think of something entirely different... I am open to suggestions from all of you clever and wise followers of mine.
Any ideas??

Man speak.

The other day my girlfriend, Rachel, and I were sitting at the coffee shop discussing all of the things that women discuss when there are no men around. I think that men must wonder what kind of strange and glorious secrets we of the fairer sex verbalize when they are not present. Well, I will not give away all of the mystery but I will tell you this, we discuss men. In my experience, when women are together talking, men always come into the conversation in some shape or form.

On this particular day we were tossing around the very curious question, which I am sure has plagued all women through the ages, of what language do men speak? It definitely in no way shape or form, resembles anything that women speak. Women can understand other women with a simple phrase, just a word, or sometimes even just a look. We know exactly what the other is thinking and where they are going with it... men on the other hand, we do not understand you! Oh, and I know that men do not understand women. But, what is it that men speak? We came to the conclusion that there needs to be a label or name for the way that they interract with others...

The conversation went a little bit like this,
Amber "They definitely do not speak the same language as we do."
Rachel "Definitely not, it is something completely different."
Amber "There should be a name for it, some sort of label."
Rachel "Caveman talk."
Amber *laughing*
Rachel "Testosterone"
Amber "Meat!!"
Ok, I do realize that the way I happened onto this word may not make sense to any normal person with a mind that functions outside of the gutter most of the time. Men are equated with eating meat (at least in my mind), men grill the meat, men are sometimes referred to as meat-heads, a man could be thought of as a nice piece of meat...not in my mind of course, and then my mind went downhill from there to darker, lower places where most people do not dwell...
Rachel *laughing heartily*
Amber "Testosterogna! Of course spelled like bologna because of the meat thing."...

And thus, the word was born. Now the complicated thought would be to put a name on the ever so complicated and mysterious language that women all over the world speak.

It would be easier...

Now don't get me wrong, I can voice my opinions as well as the next person... obviously from my angry previous venting.
If you are one of those people who think that I have it all together and that I must be a very confident self assured independent woman (hear me roar!)... then I have played my hand perfectly! That is just what I want you to believe!

The reality is, I am hopelessly flawed and I, more than anyone else, know this to be true. One of the many problems I have with myself is (now don't get on my case about self confidence being a turn on and what makes a woman more attractive, blah blah...everybody says that but who is really that self confident?) I feel a great need to be liked by anyone and everyone that I come into contact with. If a person does not like me... my world is crushed! How can people not like me, I am good enough... I am smart enough... and gosh darnit, well you get the picture.

The Man always tells me that I shouldn't care what people think. He informs me that not everybody is going to like me... it's just people. I don't listen to him, I put my fingers in my ears and close my eyes (otherwise I would read his lips) and sing the "La, la, la...la, la, la... I can't hear youoooo..." song. There must be people out there who are loved by all, and I think I could be one of them! Why not? What's so wrong with wanting people to like you and agree with everything you say? I don't think there is anything wrong with that as long as it is my opinions they are agreeing with...

The Man thinks life would be easier without friends. He says that friends take time and effort and he doesn't have time. He says I shouldn't care what people think of me, he doesn't. He honestly doesn't let peoples opinions of him affect him. I don't know how to do that! I don't want to do that! Just because it's easier doesn't mean it's better! Isn't that part of the fun of life? Falling down along the way and having people there to help you back up. If you didn't have friends who would you laugh until you almost wet yourself with? Calm down, I said "almost". Who would be there to tell you that you are being ridiculous (other than your mother of course) when you get angry about something that someone has done or said?

If you would so choose to post a negative comment about something I write, that is fine, just realize that it will hit me hard, it will make me want to quit writing because I can't imagine that someone doesn't like me! I won't quit, I shall persevere, I'm not going to let it get me down even though I may want to crawl back into bed, under the covers and feel sorry for myself... but then I will eventually pull myself back out and maybe even sing a song like, "Ain't nothing gonna break my stride..." or "We are the champions my friend...". On a side note, how are those for earworms? ;)

Maybe The Man is right (yes, I said it) and it would be easier, maybe it would make for a lot less heartache, tears and worry. Whatever the consequences, I choose not to take that path, I am going to take the hard way and experience it all along the way!

p.s. I am trying something new with the blog, everyday I have ridiculous thoughts pop into my head that I think would be great for a blog idea... suddenly something else pops into my head and out pops the idea, so I am going to write my idea on my hand, or whatever else I have handy and take a picture of it and post it on here so you can see the way my mind processes and gets to certain points. It may not always be pretty but it should be interesting, thanks for reading!
~A

Women of the world...unite!

This thought has been building up for quite some time in the recesses of my mind, nagging a little bit every day but never enough to actually force me to write a message on my thoughts. There have been a few things that have happened recently to aquaintances of mine that make it impossible to ignore. Now it has taken over my entire thought process so that it is on my mind every minute of the day. It is bubbling up and I must write something about it. I may have very few followers of my blog but for anybody interested... WARNING: The post you are about to read comes from a deep seated anger and may have a tendency to rant and ramble.

Who or what in the world ever gave women the idea that we are supposed to surrender our entire identity to a man? Why would you ever give up everything that makes you a person in your own sense and let your significant other define you? Is it something that the religious sect has pounded into the heads of women, "the weaker sex", for so long that they are finally starting to believe it?? I know that the old fashioned lifestyle is to be the woman at home, take care of the children and the house, cook and clean and keep your family happy, healthy and functioning. Now I am not knocking that lifestyle for anyone who chooses it, I live that lifestyle. I am a stay at home mother, I do the laundry, I cook, clean, help with homework, make my husband get to bed when he has been up for 30 hours straight and try to keep the house quiet so he can get his much needed sleep. For the most part, it is very fulfilling for myself, it is the life we chose when we got married and decided we were going to have children that we did not want to put into child care. I am not complaining, I think I do my job reasonably well. I do not bring in a paycheck. I do not have a schedule I have to keep, and yes some days I could take a nap, read a book, or go out to lunch with a girlfriend if that is what I decide to do. But it does in no way make me less of a person than my husband. It does not make me lazy, my job is hard... it is emotionally taxing, I am on the clock at all times. The boys wake up in the night? I am there. The school calls and someone is sick? I am there. My husband comes home sick from work, dinner needs to get done, one of the kids classes needs snacks, the boys need clean pants for the next day, there is math homework and spelling words that need work... I am there. I have gotten off of the subject that I had originally started on, I will go back. Appreciating what at home moms do is a whole other blog in itself...

The reason I was writing this is because so many women have decided that they are lucky to have a man. Lucky to have someone who loves them or at least pretends. Why??? Why are we the lucky ones? Why isn't it men and women both who are the lucky ones to have found someone who loves them just as they are, accepting all our flaws. Men and women both have a whole long list of flaws it is not just one sex. Why don't men say, I appreciate everything you do for me. What has made women decide to give up their independence because that's what they think a man wants. They stay home and don't go anywhere because their man may possibly come home and see them for an hour. They ask permission to go out of the house, or buy something, or do something with their children. They feel guilty when they spend money that should rightfully be half theirs. They keep their hair a certain length or style, they dress a certain way, they keep their house clean because heaven forbid a man would think it wasn't done the right way. They lose themselves. They give up everything and become So-and-so's wife... and that is all they are. And then if their man decides he doesn't like them anymore, they are devastated, they lose all semblance of reality and go out of their way... giving 200% just to keep him happy. "Oh, you want me to drop all my plans because you decided to give me an hour of your time?" of course! Let me shave my legs and put on something pretty so you will actually love me! "You think I have gained weight?" Let me do a juice fast for a couple days so that you will like me again. "Can I go out with my friends shopping for the day?" No... ok well why don't I stay home with you and cook and clean for you, why don't you lay down and take a nap while I do your laundry.... the list goes on and on.
I am not a feminist by nature but I do believe that we women as a gender have given ourselves a bad rap. We are the only ones that allow ourselves to be treated as less than other people. Control over ourselves cannot be taken, we have to give it and that is what so many are doing every day. I am worthwhile. I have my own personality that is not defined in any way by my husband. My sense of humor may not always be appreciated by him or other people but that doesn't mean that I am going to change it just so he likes me and smiles at me. Our differences are what makes us such amazing, mysterious creatures...do not give that up to try to please men! And men, do not think for one minute that a woman is any less amazing and talented than you are. Don't ever put her under your thumb because it makes your life easier... you are taking the essence of the woman and losing the wonder of what we are. Women, take back your lives! Take back yourselves...let your actions define you, not who you are in a man's eyes!!!

Another day..more paniting

It's morning, the boys are off to school, I had my breakfast (I am not a breakfast eater. I never have been, I don't think I ever will be. I know, I know...breakfast is the most important meal of my day and all that... so I am going against my own gut instinct and following a new eating plan where I have to eat breakfast. No options, no excuses, must consume breakfast) and now I am trying to gear myself up and get inspired so that I can take on some more painting. I am doing a little bit every day. I tend to get burned out the way I go all gung-ho about my new hobbies and then I stop altogether and never touch it again... so I am changing my ways and trying to give myself a better chance of sticking to something. Here is the next stage of my current project, stay tuned for more...

Creating

For Christmas I decided that I wanted to take on a new project. A couple of months ago I bought a couple of books on acrylic and figured why not try something different. I have dabbled with painting in the past. I saw some pieces by an amazing watercolor artist and decided that was probably my calling, it was destiny, nevermind the fact that I have no experience or even talent in it. I tried. Everyone was very supportive, they helped me out and got me an easel, paints and brushes. When I decide that I am going to take something on I go all in, feet first I close my eyes and jump all the way in. So I painted and painted, they all turned out terrible, some would tell me how much they loved them and how talented I was... I did not believe them. See, I am very hard on my own work, I have to be! If I did not see all the mistakes and expect better of myself how would I ever grow or get any better? So, after trying and trying to force myself to be the watercolor genius I once believed I was... I have moved on. To be honest, I HATE painting with watercolor, it is too tame. I want to be able to put paint on my hands and fling it at the paper if that is what I am feeling.

I am taking on acrylic, so far I like it a million times more with the one piece I have started than all the other pieces I attempted with watercolor...

Here is the beginning of my new piece-

-you will just have to watch and see how it turns out and what

it may turn into.

In an effort to encourage my creativity I am trying to post my previous works, and as they come along I will post my current projects also.

Here is another journal I have done...

Journals...

The first art journal cover I designed. I designed it for myself with the intention of filling the inside with all my creative thoughts...I found out that I prefer to make the covers and leave the insides for someone else. I have made a few for friends as gifts and other friends and brothers are starting to request them, looks like I will have more to keep me busy. Looking forward to it!

The journal I designed for my brother's girlfriend, Monique.

A passing thought.

Is it possible for another person to know the real you? Now by "real you" I mean, the you that you hide deep inside, the one that has doubts that are never voiced out loud and fears that never see the light of day. I know there are things I keep to myself even with my closest loved ones who already know most of my dark secrets. There are a few thoughts that I cannot put into words, a few fears that I don't think anyone else would ever understand. If you keep those deep fears and doubts to yourself than they can never really exist, can they? They can't be real until they are turned into thought and then made into spoken words, or is that just lying to myself telling me that? If I admitted to myself a little more often that it is OK to fail, it is OK for things to not always go as planned then maybe the perfect world that I build in my head (and real life never measures up to) wouldn't come crashing down around me when I slip and can't hold up one of the walls. What would happen if we actually aired out those things that we hold so close inside locked up in some place nobody else can ever find? Would we be judged and persecuted for thinking such an awful thing? If I were to be completely honest with myself and step out from my denial would I realize that I am not so different from everyone else? Does ever other person have the same thoughts? If you actually believe that someone out there knows everything about you, EVERYTHING, then you are a bigger person than I. I do have my choice few that I can share almost anything with. Almost being the key word. If you are the type that would voice any and every thought and feeling in your head and heart do you think others would be interested or get bored and annoyed by it?

Who done it?

So we had my brother and his family over tonight for tacos and a few exhiliarating games of clue. What a fun evening it was, even though I resisted the temptation of root beer floats. I am stronger than I thought. I know it's impolite to stare but I couldn't help myself, that dark foam calling my name, the rich color at the bottom of the glass just waiting for you to get past the spoonfuls of crystallized ice cream and take a sip... oh, as I was saying, we played a few games of clue. I have not played that game since I was very young. I ended up being the murderer two out of three times. I don't know if that says anything about me, but for what it's worth I used an axe. If you think about the actual game it is very disturbing. These people are at a party and they sneak around starting rumors about random people (wrongfully most of the time) and random grotesque weapons. And what about the murderer?? In the spa, with an axe or a baseball bat?? In the kitchen, with a candlestick?? Who ever came up with that game, and did they end up in prison for actually doing the things that they thought of for a game? What if it was a big cover-up? Oh I have a great idea for a game... yes we will kill people in all sorts of wonderful, uh... I mean terrible ways! It gives me a tickle in my stomach just thinking of the weapons I could use, errr... the fun people would have with their imaginations playing the game, yes that's what I meant. Sick! It was fun even so. I lost. Three games and I didn't win a single one... I hate losing.

Summmmer.

Sitting in the sun, there are clouds in the sky but it is still hot. The sun goes behind a cloud for a few minutes and a little breeze picks up. I raise my face to feel the cool air blow across it. There is the sound of a lawnmower somewhere in the neighborhood and a slight smell of fresh cut grass travels on the wind.
I hear the laughter and squeals of children.
The cloud passes and the sun makes me squint. It's hot again, I can feel it on my skin warm and bright. I gaze out at the field full of corn, the tops sway with the breeze. The neighbors sunflowers are tall and starting to bend, bowing their heads from the weight of the giant yellow flowers the size of a dinner plate.
A dog is barking, I shift and feel my back stick to the chair. There are two butterflies dancing in the air across the yard letting the wind toss them right to left. There are more clouds in the sky now, maybe we will get rain tonight. It's supposed to be even warmer tomorrow...

-Amber

I have a serious love for a good book. Actually it doesn't even have to be "good", just enough to hold my attention until I get interested and want to know how it ends and I am hooked. I disappear into another world. I cannot seem to tear myself away from it. If I am forced to tear myself away (and trust me it happens seeing how the responsibilities of everyday life and taking care of a man and two mini-men doesn't just suspend in time until I am finished) I am a very unpleasant person to be around. All that I can think of is getting back to my book. Back to the story, back to my "friends".
The reason that I am thinking of this now is because I just finished a good book. I had a sort of epiphany I guess, I had never actually been able to put my finger on what happens to me when I finish reading something that I get so engrossed in. I am sad, lonely, restless, and bored. I feel like I lost a hobby or a friend or a part of me. I would love to dive right into another book to fill the gaping hole that not having something to read has left but then my real life suffers. Matt doesn't allow me to start new books very often. I think the only time he doesn't complain is when I haven't read one in a while and he forgets how consumed I get.
So, what do I do now? Do I wander around the house doing silly, meaningless things such as... feeding the family, doing laundry, washing dishes, talking to human beings, making eye contact, showering... or do I start another book? If you ask me what I WANT to do, it would be to curl up someplace where nobody can find me and read a book cover to cover without even looking up from it. I think I should probably stick to what I SHOULD do, instead of doing what my heart desires, and rejoin the land of the living. I will leave the land of words that let you imagine it however your mind sees it, I have to for the sanity of my family, but I will not be able to stay away for long...
-Amber

Melt me!

May I just say that Michael Buble's voice sounds just like smooth butter. His song "Lost" is the one currently playing on my page. It also happens to be my favorite, FAVORITE song. Couldn't you just close your eyes and feel this song all day long, not even listen to it, but feel it, be it, immerse yourself in it? I feel it deep inside, deep down in the core of myself. Does that sound disturbing to some of you? Maybe to all of you.
Matt and I were driving somewhere in the car the other day and I had this song playing off of my ipod, one of the best purchases I have made in a long time is my car attachment so that I can listen to my music in the car when the mood strikes, so I just blurted out, "His voice is just like butter." I didn't think it sounded that strange, it makes complete sense to me. Matt just started laughing, he thinks I'm a freak. :) He loves me but he does not understand me. So I just thought I would put it down in writing so that everyone of my friends can wonder what is wrong with me. If you know exactly what I am saying when I talk like that, good!!!! I am glad you feel music in your soul. That's where it should be felt, not just the surface, just the listening with your ears or liking the words a little. No, deep down, in your stomach, in your blood, makes you want to close your eyes and just be the music. Makes me wish I could sing. I try, but I wish I really could... I wish I had a voice that could make people feel the way that I am trying to explain. I guess that is not my calling, I must have other hidden talents that are yet to be unearthed and discovered, maybe I am an unbelievable gymnast?? I will have to test it out and see.
Hope my thoughts are not too scattered to be understood. ~A