"What We Have "Chere" His..."

a constant rate of poor judgement and failure. Albert Einstein once said that insanity is engaging in the same acts repeatedly and expecting a different outcome- by his standard, I am indeed insane. I certainly feel that way. Apparently I have no capacity for making good choices with men- and I'm sadder about that than I am the waste of time.
My father told me this morning that I need to get a life. He said "all you've done is work and go to school. Go get a life, get a social life. Go have some fun. Leave off school for a while." Nothing like having a father's blessing to be a slack ass for a few months, right? In response, I'm going out tonight with a friend that I've been promising time to for a long time now.
Then I come home to relax and pack up my stuff. I'm moving back in with my parents. I'm tired of these personal revolutions. Really, I am. I'm ready for life to quit putting me through the spin cycle. I've decided that, in an effort to derail this vicious spin cycle, I'm going to go monastic- meaning that I'm not going drink, smoke, or have any dealings with mankind. I'm going to try really hard to drop "fuck" from my vocabulary totally and meat as well. In short, I want a clean life with less hassles. I'm going to make an effort to do 10 minutes of meditation every day, because surely to God I can afford to give myself 10 minutes a day. I'm planning and dreaming and scheming...hoping that life will become better soon. Hoping that I'll learn the error of my ways even quicker.

WHORES!

They make my life better. Why and how? Because, despite what my mother always told me, trash will indeed bond with itself and take itself out. Fabulous, really, this trash.
So glad I use high quality bags, or else I may worry that I'd end up with trash on me. But, I do put forth the extra effort. That's what keeps the palace clean, you know- efforts and good bags.

By the way, I'm trash free.

Muskegon, MI

I miss home. I talk about it all the time, honestly. It's a beautiful place, especially where I lived in Michigan. I lived in Muskegon, which is like having box seats at the Super Bowl- you're in exactly the right place to be comfortable, you can see everything, and it's beautiful. I was never more than 5 miles from the nearest beach, and our beaches are amazing. They're so amazing in fact, that they take tons of sand from the west coast of Michigan down to Florida to rebuild everything that the Canadians and retirees fuck up by building their stupid condos and ruining the beaches' natural defense against hurricane erosion. True story. So, next time you're in Florida, really, you're walking on my homeland. :) Also, something really cool about Michigan sand is that it's actually smoothly rounded like river rocks. It is glacier cut, meaning that tons of ice basically ground rock into submission and produced tiny, tiny round grains of sand. That's why it makes a funny "scuff" sound. Another thing: the sand in Michigan (and "Florida") contains magnitite, which is highly conductive- meaning, lightning loves to strike the beaches.
In addition to the beaches of Lake Michigan (where you're NOT a part of a food chain), there's also rivers and smaller lakes that are just gorgeous. Just don't go in the Grand River or White Lake or Ruddiman Creek. Otherwise, you're fine. There's mountains, too, and lots of wildlife.
There's also a million bars and three million bands to see. There's Skelletones, the Blue Note, Pints and Quarts, and the Rosebud (all within 20 minutes of each other), places like Lakeside Emporium (where they still sell penny candy and make their own fudge), homemade ice cream shops, and a million other cool little places.
Also, there's festivals. There's the Muskegon Summer Celebration, which has all kinds of big names (I've seen Stepphenwolf, Boston, B.B. King, Ray Charles, and Earth, Wind, and Fire there, for example- they've got newer acts, too, but I'm never interested in those). There's also the art festival, and my favorite is the Irish Music Festival. There's tons of Irish in Muskegon (so as you can imagine, they love to party), and this is just an excuse to get Irish bands out on a big stage, dance, eat, and drink, and sell Irish linens and wool and such.
Can you see why I miss this place? It's amazing.

How The "Phantom" Kicked My Ass

One of the world's most beloved and longest running plays is "Phantom of the Opera". People who don't even enjoy or know about "theatah" love the music from "Phantom". As for me, the Phantom has long been a part of my life- first in high school choir, when we did "Music of the Night" and the main theme in a concert performance. Then, it followed me to my home, and I had to sing it for a solo performance. Now, as a piano student, I'm now playing "Think of Me".
I have been working for hours on perfecting this piece. I have to play it tomorrow morning at 8 AM. It doesn't sound so hard- until you realize that just me has to play all the parts that you hear in this rendition.





I am the strings, the woodwinds, brass, and vocals- all in 8 fingers, two thumbs, and the right foot. It's now 2 AM, and I've only made it to 3 of the 4 pages of music. I'm tired. But, a good piece is nothing without a good ending- you can start weak and flub in the middle as long as you have a stupendous finish. So....here I go back to the keyboard. Maybe by performance time, it'll sound amazing.

Colors on Trees Remind Me..

I have nothing more to say. It seems that it is in my best interest to start being and remaining silent, for my own self-preservation.
I shall write again when I can.

Dreams

I dream of things, like anyone does. Sometimes, I dream of making breakfast like I used to. I'd have oldies on the radio, dancing, and frying bacon and eggs while from-scratch biscuits baked in the oven. Sometimes I dream of having a family again. I don't really have one anymore. Sometimes I dream of working a day job that I could have the weekends off to watch football with my mom and dad. Always, I dream of peace.
I'll have it someday. Watch. It's closer than I think.

Vestiges of Former Falls

Living in south Alabama, one will quickly learn that there is one-and-a-half seasons here. There's the summer season, which lasts about 10 months of the year, and 2 months of the summer season having an identity crisis. It's disappointing to some degree- I loved having four seasons. Michigan has a real winter, spring thaw, an awesome summer, and a beautiful fall. There were rituals for all of them, but my favorite, by far, was fall. I always knew when fall had officially rsvp'd for the year- I would wake up and just know. I had extra determination and more energy, a greater drive to do things now because there was no waiting until later.
Living at my parents' house, we had a fireplace. I would start collecting kindling in August, about once a week go out and find tiny sticks that had been broken off trees. By September, I would do that every day so that I could guarantee we'd have enough for the winter. (Yes, we knew they make those starter stick things, but why buy what you can get for free?). There would be a huge pile by the time the cold weather actually hit- magically, i always got enough, too. I would clean out all my living spaces and clean them well. I stacked mountains of firewood. Mom and I would start to make hats and food- chili, chicken brunswick, vegetable stew. There was this lovely feeling in the air- electric relief, what some people call the "crisp" of fall. I remember it so well. I miss it greatly.
Here, there is no need to put up food, make hats, or gather firewood, really. It get chilly enough for a hoodie, that's it. It has snowed the past two years- once each identity crisis season- and I'm thankful for it. I think it's the Mother's way of making me feel better. She sure is good at that.