Won't fence me in

I agree

Pride & Joy

Pride & Joy
By: Brandi Carlile


Time of day I can't recall

The kind of thing that takes it's toll

Over years and over time

Over smiles and over wine

All in all it wasn't bad

All in all it wasn't good

But I still care

That's the problem with the days

They're never long enough to say

What it is you never said

All the books you never read

I throw myself into the wind

Hoping somebody will pick me up

And carry me again

Where are you now?

Do you let me down?

Do you make me grieve for you?

Do i make you proud?

Do you get me now?

Am i your pride and joy?

I believe this to be true

Nothing sacred nothing new

No one tells you when its time

There are no warnings only signs

And you know that you're alone

You're not a child anymore

But you're still scared

All your mountains turn to rocks

All your oceans turn to drops

They are nothing like you thought

Can't be something you are not

Life is not a looking glass

Don't get tangled in your past

Like i am learning not to

Where are you now?

Do you let me down?

Do you make me grieve for you?

Do I make you proud?

Do you get me now?

Am I your pride and joy?

This pretty much sums up the life I've been living. A life spent looking through the binoculars of my life. Constantly stuck in the past and feeling like I was never going to be able to live inside MY life again but instead, a life that other people would rather view through the looking glass. A life I would rather view through the looking glass. A life I'm no longer going to be looking at but living. A dangerous process but a healing one at that. It's going to be very difficult for me and very easy all at the same time. It will be a growing process until the day I die and I will live through a lot of hardship because of it, but it's better than the fake, unhappy, facade of a life I choose to show you.

Whats It Feel like, This Love We Speak Of?

I keep waiting for the day it no longer hurts
You'd think four years was enough time
I've done more than cope and adapt
But my scar reopens and spills out
Is this what love feels like?

Seventeen Years of Silence

Sleeping, living, loving, dying
I awake to the mating call of cicadas
A miraculous, odd, and unexpected existence
Humming in the distance
Attacking passerby's with one quick swoosh
An annoyance, pestering us all
But then the rain came and quieted the world
The cicadas died off and tears fell to the ground
A nuisance, now a loss

And the days keep passing by

And I have no evidence to show

But one day you will be mine
And I will be yours
Our love tightly wrapped between our fingers
And swiftly between our breaths
We will be like cicadas; living, loving, and dying
The world will watch as we disappear
Together all at once with no fear

This is a true secret....

And as much as I dislike this postcard, I still say: I am capable of anything. I am capable of this. And so are you. We have no right to judge anyone

My Path

A path once divided in two and one was less traveled by but my paths have diverged into one consistent path that is rocky and bumpy, it has a lot of hills but it leads to the same place.

From the Depths of My Soul I Cry Out

There are times when I see something or someone specific and think of the past. Sitting in Blackbird, a man walked into my peripheral vision and he was pouring cream into his coffee. I first noticed his hands. Rough, old, and tan. My pupils dilated to see the full view of this hard working man, wearing his dark blue pants, and light blue shirt. An auto mechanic's shirt, with the sewn in name tag, black cursive writing, and his name...Doug.  Sunglasses that sat on his blondish-white hair that was almost as long as a mullet but not enough to call it one. I couldn't help but have the feeling that I was so proud of him. That I appreciated him for whatever he has done for the world and will do. A sense that he was special to the world, to me, without having to do a thing. The funny thing is that every man I've ever met with rough, thin, tan skin were men that treated the people in my life with the upmost disrespect. Men I hated the most. I remember all their faces, their names, their violence. I remember the finest details of their physical features; from the acne scars on their face to the calloused hands that rubbed me the wrong way.

It's been over 8 years since I've seen one of those "men." I know that I'm healed because I am able to look at a man that I don't know, with similar features, and be proud of him. A subconscious feeling that I didn't even have to try and create inside me. It almost makes me want to cry.

It reminds me of the story I wrote awhile ago about the little boy that touched my heart. I've been thinking about that moment a lot lately and I've come to realize that I myself was that child. I can look back and remember the times I'd lay my head across the table in class, hoping that someone would notice me. That my hurt was real and that it was worth giving attention to. I was definitely connected to that child and I did want to take him home...but I think he reminded me of the pain I had felt so long ago and had forgotten about. Of course...it all makes sense now. Growing up I was never listened to. I had no voice. As I grew older, I became more popular. Now I have a ton of friends and people who love me and listen to me. Because I went through such pain and misunderstanding, I tend to seek out people that I know are hurting. I reach out to people I know other people won't talk to or give a chance to because I know they are just like me and they have SO much to say but no one will listen. Even mentally ill patients have something to tell us. They have a voice too. This little boy had a voice and he wanted so badly to share it but wasn't listened to enough...so he got quiet. I love that little boy and I pray to God he heals and uses that voice to change the world one day.

Terrible

Some people will NEVER understand.


http://www.advocate.com/News/Daily_News/2011/05/09/Antigay_Uganda_Bill_Nears_Vote/

"Present" (not as in gift, but as in existing/being)

You know, you could possibly understand...if you tried. But you haven't. You haven't even asked. I've spent most of my life trying to be there for other people and listen to what they have to say, because I know that I've been neglected in that area for longer than any adult, adolescent, teen, child, or toddler should. I make excuses for you, over and over again because I like to believe that people should be given chances. I also believe in HOPE, something that lets me down all too often. And so today, I make a change. If you care, then be involved in my life. If you choose not to be involved in my life, then I am thankful for the time we've spent together. I hope that since you're not involved in my life, that you're involved in someone else's.

I LOVE THE LIGHT TOO MUCH TO FEAR THE FLAME

2 newbies....

&

BANG BANG

I need to learn to dance like this. next project since I'll have so much time on my hands!

Hold On

I have to credit Britta for this video because she's posted it on her blog a while ago. I've listened to it a few times in the past couple of days and I've listened to the words over and over again. But today, they hold a different meaning for me and today, they are encouraging me more than ever.

So, I'll hold on because I feel like letting go. (not suicide. A different type of letting go)

WATCH THIS!!!

LISTEN & LOVE & SHARE THEIR MUSIC

DAWN MITSCHELE COVERS PATTY GRIFFIN: BOTH GREAT ARTISTS

THE LUCK MAN

I'm going back to the bank to get some more luck from Mr. Funke. Yeah, that's his name.