They Call Some The Breeze

Well, here I go again.

I wish I was one of those amazingly cheery and humorous bloggers. And, I admit, sometimes I am.

But mostly I post when I feel...Just when I feel. Something.

I wonder why life is a hard thing for some people and a breeze for others. What is it that distinguishes the two?

I so want to be one of those breezers. One of those lucky people who can soar on just the whisper of a wind and rise higher and higher and higher.

Is it something you are genetically gifted with? Or something that you learn? Or something you don't even realize you have?

One thing is for sure. Those who can't catch those breezes wind up, feet firmly on the ground, watching those lucky others circle higher and higher, seeming without a care.

Oh how I wish with all of my body and soul that I could be one of those risk takers, dreamers who believe that their dreams will come true for them, a person that is not so grounded in the quicksand of reality that no matter how far I hold out my arms, I don't have the feathers necessary to take flight.

How blissful that feeling would be.

I can only imagine.

I miss my friend so much.

I miss my friend so much.

I miss my friend so much.

I miss my friend so much.

I miss my friend so much.

I'm so very sad.

He hates me.

Nothing but a friend.

Had a misunderstanding.

Can't straighten it out.

I miss my friend so much.

I miss my friend so much.

Wish I didn't.

Hate him sometimes.

I miss my friend so much.

Trying to hate him more.

I miss my friend so much.

Makes it easier to move on.

I miss my friend so much.

I miss my friend so much.

I miss my friend so much.

I hate myself for doing whatever I did.

I miss my friend so much.

Will just keep crying I guess.

I miss my friend so much.

I miss my friend so much.

I miss my friend so much.

God Given Talent and Unlimited Possibilities

I have a friend. He is one of those people who is charismatic, brilliant, talented, and doesn’t have a clue how blessed he is.

Well maybe a small clue.

He’s finishing up his degree in business and feels a strong obligation and drive to find a “real job” in the “real world”.

I keep telling him that he will hate it. Being cooped up in a small office or worse yet, a tinier cubicle, processing paperwork all day. A job that won’t allow him explore his unlimited potential. A job that will stifle his creativity and free spirit and will probably leave him unfulfilled.

Can’t he see that his possibilities are unlimited? That the world deserves more than another mortgage broker or investment counselor? That he has the ability to make contributions that would enrich our world and more importantly his?

I’ve listened to him brainstorm about business ventures he would like to undertake. Jobs that he would like to have. The money he wants to make. He has high aspirations and is confident enough to make them happen.

None of the ideas I have heard will let him use the unbounded creativity or his charismatic personality. I find that offensive and odious.

My friend has a gift. One that I cannot even imagine possessing. He is talented. But the word talent isn’t big enough to describe what he has.

He is a music man. A songwriter, a singer, a musician, an entertainer with words and a voice that can break your heart or lift your spirits. Oh what is must be like to have those extraordinary gifts.

These are gifts that God gave him.

He didn’t have to take years of lessons or spend hours of tedious practice to be able to do what he does. A God given gift is one that comes naturally and one that you cannot be happy without using.

The following story is more revealing than even he knew. I have never seen him as excited as he was on this particular day.

He has his own recording equipment. A few weeks ago he bought a new piece of equipment to add to his studio. He was practically jumping up and down at the prospect of using it. Rubbing his hands together like he couldn’t wait to use those hands to create more music. And smiling like the sun was shining through him. It made me happy to see him so excited.

So I asked him, “Has anything made you this excited lately? This idea of making music you’ve not been able to make before?” Of all of his lofty business-minded goals, this one piece of $200 equipment made him the most energized I have seen him. Music is his passion. The thing that brings him the most joy.

And I wonder why he cannot see that about himself?

Why can’t he see that when I can see it so clearly it makes my heart ache?

The thing that is most insulting to me is that I would give almost anything to possess that kind of talent and passion.

It makes me wonder how God doles out talent. Why does he bestow that much creativity, and the ability to use it, upon some and none to others? Do those who possess this ability take it for granted? I think almost all of them do. Offensive.

To listen to him expound on the many business ventures he has thought of makes heart sink. I hate him.

I hate him for having these incredible gifts that God so generously granted him. And I hate him for not using them. It’s like throwing this priceless thing back in God’s face or putting it in a drawer.

I love the sound of music being made. It is one of the things that entrances, amazes, and depresses me all at the same time. Nothing makes me happier than to have him sit in my living room, or on the porch, inventing funny songs or leading a sing-along, or hearing him discover particular riffs that I can’t get out of my head.

I know he’s gone through the “gig” thing. But with such unlimited potential and talent and drive, isn’t there some kind of job, some kind of opportunity that would allow him to share his enriching, spirit-lifting, joyful, heart-breaking, special, rare, and enviable gifts with all of us? It’s just plain selfish to keep that to himself.

Just plain selfish.

I love him and hate him at the same time.

Not Too Shabby

I just re-read some of (well, all of) my old posts on Blogger. And I ain't half-bad as a blogger/writer. In fact, I think I do pretty well. I actually impressed myself. *wiggles head prissily*

Maybe I'll get inspired and write more soon. I hope. It was a lot of fun reading them again. Kind of like traveling back in time. What a ride.

Friends Move On

I know that I don't blog here anymore, but I wanted to publish this somewhere. If you happen to read it, leave a comment if you like. I'll try to check back in sometime soon. This is more for me I guess.

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FRIENDS MOVE ON

Wow. I don’t know where to start.

All I know is that I have an empty place inside of me. I can actually feel it physically and it is a sad, sad feeling.

I made a friend, or rather a buddy, a few weeks ago. He was everything I wanted in someone to pal around with.

Funny. We laughed constantly. He is a comedian. Not a pro (yet). But he will be if that is what he wants. He made up comic bits on the fly and I couldn’t quit laughing. Keeping me entertained is no easy thing. But he could make me laugh for days. Literally.

Talented. He plays acoustic guitar, writes his own songs, and sings so well it makes me all googley eyed.. You see, I am enthralled with men with that kind of talent. It is rare to find and it is one of the things that I love to have in my life. I miss hearing him play his clever, sweet and funny songs. I miss hearing him sing. I miss the way he smiles when he is playing and singing something amusing. It is heart-wrenching. There are a lot of musicians out there with a similar talent, but no one who captured my imagination like he did.

Sincere. We talked a lot about ourselves during our short friendship. I learned about his life so far, about what he is looking for in a girlfriend, about his dreams for the future. And I opened up with a few things about myself. And he listened. How rare is that?

Cuddle-able. One of the things I miss most about being separated from my husband is not having someone to lay down and cuddle with. My friend and I never had sex or anything close to it. We would just lay in bed and laugh and spoon each other or I would lay my head on his chest. It was so wonderful and comforting and it felt so good.

I miss him so much it makes me cry. And I have selfishly cried over my loss many times. I know that he never imagined that I would value our friendship so much. And truthfully, until it was gone I didn’t imagine it either. It’s like he crashed into my life, filled it up with himself, and then left it empty when he moved out of my life. He is so charismatic that he probably makes most people feel that way.

He tells me that we will still get together now and then. But he is busy and has moved ahead and I am so happy for him. I truly am.

He landed a great job working nights. At a comedy club no less. That way he can still go to school and get his degree. But it means no more music or tequila on the porch or staying up all night talking and laughing or cuddling.

He found a girlfriend who he is crazy about and makes him happy. He told me that when they are alone, they cook, watch movies, hang out. He sounds so happy to have found her. And I am glad that he did. But it means no more music or tequila on the porch or staying up all night talking and laughing or cuddling.

He asked me once why women hold on for so long. I told him that we were like puppies. If you are nice to us, we will desperately want to follow you home. It’s ironic isn’t it? I just never imagined myself as one of those puppies left on the side of the road crying longingly as I watched him move away.

It is said that people come into your life for a purpose. And there is a reason that they move out of your life.

Whatever the reason, I miss him.

I miss him.

I miss him.

I miss him.

I miss him.
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Good luck, Wes. I wish you only the best. Keep moving forward.
Maybe we’ll have a few shots of tequila sometime. I’ll buy.

No. Really. I AM going to write about...

The mysterious invisible entity in the backyard that enthralls my dog.

Hearing the words, "If you were five years younger..." (Ouch)

Bodywork.

My take on Hip-Hop; political and/or ecological rap/poetry/hip-hop; and on being green.

What are the meteorological chances?

Yes he's cute, young and stupid, but he is also.....

The three faces of Scamper (my dog) and why I cannot take her for a public walk.

uhhh....And some other things too.

Get Ready All Of You Who Read My Lame Ass Blog (i heart trav)

I am going to bear my soul on my blog. And I might be doing it for a while. Feel like I've got some things to say and this is the safest place I can say them. I'm not going to write for sympathy or advice or censure. I am writing so I can put what I want to say out there somewhere in cyberspace so no one (or some one) can hear.



And it's not all bad stuff! I swear!



Feel free to comment, but I can betcha I know what you will say before you even type it! (I'm psychotic---I mean psychic----that way.)

First blog in a series will follow shortly........