So...I sit here today completely beside myself. I find that humans never cease to amaze me with all our little idiosyncrasies. (I like that word. It's long, hard to spell and hard to say, especially for Sylvester-the-cat types. It means "a peculiarity of temperament; an individualizing characteristic". I just like that the first four letters are the same first four letters in the word IDIOT. ha) We all have our "ticks", our "issues", or "baggage" (though some seem much better at "packing lighter" than the rest of us...they're the ones who manage to get everything into that one "carry-on" bag you're allowed). Some of us have very legitimate "issues" (i.e., the woman who doesn't trust men because her no-account "dad" abused her); but some of us don't. Nosireebob...Some of us just refuse to grow up.

"How dare you be so critical and judgmental?, you say. "You just have no idea what I've been through. Why..I had the worst childhood! My parents didn't understand me. They were so strict, they spanked me too much and they didn't buy me a car like all my friends' parents did. They were just so unfair!" WAH! All I can say is to "suck it up" and stop blaming your folks at this stage in the ballgame. Seriously. I can save you gobs of money. DITCH the therapist...unless you've got real, die-hard, serious "issues" (like a history of abuse in any of it's scariest, most detrimental forms)...and just make up your mind to LET IT GO and get on with the life that is ticking away in front of you.

Y'all...I'm just sayin'...your parents, crappy as they may have been, were just wingin' it the way the rest of us are. The only instruction manual you are given is the one etched into your brain by your parents before you...you are supposed to take that, when you grow up, weed out the crap through you own adult observations ("Wow, no one else's parents encouraged them to hold up convenient stores, so maybe mine might've gotten that one wrong?") and then you live an enlightened version of your childhood self. That's how it works...or how it should work.

**The compassionate side of me (which is also the side of me that sat through Psych, Social Work and Sociology classes, on the edge of my seat with interest, before ditching college) feels it necessary to acknowledge the people with real reasons for therapy...and kudos to the ones who decide to give themselves the ultimate human gift of freedom from their past by facing those diligent and well-equipped demons head on, with big balls, and conquering them. Those people are proof that it CAN be done. I know those people...and I am awed by them.**

Why am I in this mood? You really, truly don't want me to go into it. You don't. And I don't want to because it starts sounding like I'm whining or something. I am just tired of watching adults who really have NO reasons to whine do just that. I am tired of drama. I am tired of tiptoeing around their issues just to "keep peace" when it is only stunting their growth as individuals. I am tired of listening to other adults justify and/or excuse that someone's behavior and then try to take me on a "guilt trip" (a trip they plan to just put me on a plane to alone) because I am not being understanding enough...I'm not being "the bigger person". Apparently, I won't be nominated for the "Peacemaker of the Year" award? The funny thing is that I care more than they'll ever know.

And, y'all, I don't think I am perfect. I know many of my issues...and if I started listing them, we'd be here a while. But one thing I have figured out in my 30mumblemumble years is that this world and its inhabitants owe me nothing. I have figured out that my own life will be a bit easier to live if I just take a chill pill, when necessary...if I will try to look for the positive (because it IS always there)...and if I will "put away childish things". That doesn't mean I have to start dressing like an "old person" (I still proudly wear my Happy Bunny shirt)...or that I have to stop dreaming and wishing on stars...or that I have to quit swinging on swing sets in the park (unless they're for toddlers and I might tip it over! ha). It just means that I look at things through the eyes of experience and some level of wisdom (though my wisdom is still something I can barely fill a shoebox with)...which makes the "town gossip" look like a woman who is very insecure in her own skin and jealous of those around her and not someone "out to get me". It means that I hear things with ears of patience and humor...which makes the grumpy waitress become someone I am determined to make smile (and DID do, btw) and not someone I should treat equally as grumpy. It means that I realize the world doesn't revolve around me...at least not today anyway. ;-) And that I've figured out that the scary monster under my bed is just a bunch of books waiting to be read.

Besides, what good does it do to sit around and literally WASTE the few precious years you've been given by trying to whine your way to happiness (HEY...that sounds like a Kanye West penned "self-help" book...Kayne's I Did it My Way: How to Whine Your Way to Happiness)? Can that even be done? I'm guessing that'd be a NO. No matter how hard you try, how much money you spend or how many people you alienate along the way, you cannot fix the past...and, most assuredly, not by blaming someone else for all of its crap. You can no longer make your parents pay more attention to your 12-year-old self...you can't make your siblings apologize to your 5-year-old self for doing what most ALL siblings do: Be mean...and you can't make the school bully not take your 8-year-old self's lunch money. Yes, maybe you can sit down and have a heart-to-heart in adulthood and get an apology of sorts; but the real work is still UP TO YOU and NO ONE ELSE.

So, ok...I'm through venting. Thank you! ha

If this blog has offended anyone, then you are probably one of the ones who need to put on some big girl panties or big boy boxers, respectively, anyway.

Seriously...I'm just sayin'...

I realize that, aside from my one gracious follower who happens to be my brother, folks reading this don't really know me. You don't know that I'm obnoxiously into the 80s (music, tv, movies...to date, it is my favorite decade-ha). And I love history...love it, love it, love it. I get so engrossed when visiting places like Cades Cove near Gatlinburg that I buy books on it and read them, study them to some extent...almost as if I have some ancestry there that ties me to it, which isn't usually the case. I love to think of what life was like in the 1700s, 1800s, etc. And I really like to remember my own life in the 70s, the 80s, even if it is purely childish in nature at times because, duh, I was a child. These aspects of myself I do try to pass along to my children, who are 13 and almost 10, respectively. They seem interested in most of what I put before them whether it is me telling about "the time I was 10 and..." or explaining how the Civil War started and how much of what they will learn in school is inaccurate. OH...and one more thing you don't know about me is that I am in denial of how old I actually am. I do realize exactly how old my birth certificate says I am, and I know it is true; but I honestly don't feel that old and all my memories, I suhwear just happened last week (and please, folks, you have to read like I write, ok? Keep up...it's the Southern drawl).

Ok...all of that was to set the stage for this morning's brief, but sort of eye-opening, conversation I had with my son, the 9-year-old. We'd just dropped his sister off and, as normal, switched XM off of the Disney Channel (she loves it, he and I don't) to the 80s channel (which I love and they mostly tolerate because occasionally a song they know from Guitar Hero comes on). A song from 1985 came on...no, I can't think of which one right now, but I think it was Genesis. Now mind you, for some reason, I always feel like I have to give them some sort of back story for the song coming on (I bet the kids would wish their mother drove a vehicle that didn't have a computer screen telling the title, artist and year of every song IF they knew such vehicles exist, I don't think they do. And silly kids, they also don't know that their mother, the Musictionary, doesn't NEED XM to tell her!)..."Oh, y'all, the first time I heard Golden Earring's Twilight Zone, I was 12 and, OMG!, we were riding with Uncle Roger to get fitted for his and Dee's wedding...blah, blah,blah". BuhLess their hearts, huh?

Ok...back on track...the song came on, I started singing along, saw the date and said, "Oh, wow! Tony this song came out when we moved to Hendersonville!" to which he replied in a sarcastic sort of way (he is still learning how to use sarcasm effectively...from me, of course), "Ummmm, I didn't move to Hendersonville because I like wasn't even born yet, Mom" Well, duh. I told him that I meant me, my parents and Michelle and Jeremy. He laughed and said, "I know...I was just joking." So I go on..."That was 1985. Wow. 25 years ago, Tony!" And then he said it...the phrase that stuck in my history-loving mind..."Gah, Mom! I wasn't even born in the 1900s!" I know, I know. Not really a big deal sentence. Definitely not an undiscovered-until-that-moment truth. But, wow...for someone who loves to think in terms of centuries beginning and ending, when history was being made, when things were changing, when, well, I wasn't here.

So, yeah. My son and all his classmates will be talking about their parents, and even older siblings, in terms of "life in the 1900s"...like we talk about someone being born in the "1800s", or what life was like in "the 18th century", etc. Like I am always fascinated to look over our family tree, or at pictures, and know that this great-grandparent was born at the "end of the 1800s"...it just seems as though it was like a whole other world or something. Isn't that sort of cool? And freaky too? Or maybe it is just me...that is definitely more likely the case. Anywho! It just hit me weird when he said it, the way he said it, and I just wondered if anyone had actually thought about it.

Ok...done rambling...because I was 'just sayin' anyway. ha

Deep in thought today (well, yesterday, when this was written)...

Not sure if it is due in part to a very gloomy sky overhead; or if it is because I began my day by watching a post-apocalyptic movie called The Road, followed by an intensely in-your-face crime drama, rich in sex, drugs, alcohol and lies, titled The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call-New Orleans (yes, the title is long enough to be a country/western song). Regardless of the whys, I have spent a few random moments, between loads of laundry, quandering the "what ifs" in relation to...THE FUTURE.

THE FUTURE. It is a character all its own with its promises and unpredictability, its hope and cruelty, its humility and haughtiness. It is so far away that we can only dream and pretend and even worry about what it looks like; yet, we came face-to-face with it this morning when tomorrow became today. THE FUTURE is quite elusive.

There are as many theories of what the future for humanity will be like as there are minds who ponder it. There is so much talk of global warming, countries with nukes stockpiled like my son's LEGO collection, a "new world order" and so on and so forth that it is hard to get excited about spending our retirement years traveling the good ol' UsofA buying cheap, chintzy souvenirs for our future grandchildren. There is, it seems, just as much optimism floating around out there that burying one's head in the ground, ostrich-style, looks pretty inviting as well.

There are many fellow citizens who believe that those ten plastic garbage bags of crushed Coke cans (eagerly consumed alongside MSG-laced Cool Ranch Doritos) they toted to a recycle bin at Wally World, in their gas-guzzling, "American made" with outsourced parts and government funding (Ahhh...free enterprise!) SUV, is actually reversing the effects of said global warming. They believe we made one giant leap for mankind by landing a black man in the oval office. They definitely believe the $25 donation they made to Haiti is, once again, showing the world that benevolence and peace is all that the most powerful nation on earth believes is its mission. They also fully believe our government, "for the people, by the people", has its people's best interest at heart. Does that sound cynical? I apologize if it does. Cynicism isn't the attitude I am hoping to convey or suggest. Just pointing out some obstacles, in thought, that we face. Or that I face anyway. (And I haven't even mentioned thoughts over my personal future...what's in store for me, myself and I mentally, physically and emotionally. Geesh!) I have shared all of these thoughts at one time or another when I have tried to decide my daily plan-of-action.

These possibilities are ones my brother and I have discussed. We agree, and disagree, on plenty. He has a very well-thought-out plan that involves things I, myself, can't imagine doing but understand, just the same. To his frustration I'm sure, I really have no plan-of-action for a future under socialism, a winter that lasts for years due to either nuclear warfare or a climate shift (toss-up?) or even "world peace" (spoken in my best Gracie Lou Freebush voice). After watching The Road, I hopped on board the "hold onto your hats, folks, it's going to be a bumpy ride" train of thought. I tried to figure out a reasonable way to ask my husband to dig a tunnel/bunker/fall-out shelter under the house that we can begin filling, floor-to-ceiling, with non-perishables and ammunition. Yep, I played with that idea until reality reminded me, in its smug, pessimistic voice, that we likely couldn't collect enough ammunition to hold off a freakin' army anyway! Duh. I mean...c'mon, Christy.

So...what DID I conclude in all of this doom and gloom thinking? Being a rehabilitated worrier, I know how easy it would be to "fall off the wagon" and spin my wheels in the muck of worry or, at least, "concern". But what I decided, for the time being (mainly because I had other pressing issues to fret over like my computerized, "high efficiency" washer taunting me with its "not draining properly" message), is that I kinda like the mentality I currently have...taking things one day at a time as much as possible. Otherwise, I will get all flustered over what we will do if the government does push out the "little guy" contractor (i.e., my husband), or what I will do if I develop heart disease (the #1 killer among women, the tv says) or how we will handle life if we end up living like folks do in third world countries. I guess a plan-of-action couldn't hurt in those cases. We could figure out a new career...soon. I could quit eating anything they "currently" profess causes heart problems (that changes every decade, ya know?). And we could sell all our possessions, buy an RV and learn to truly rough it. Yeah...or I can do what I do. I live mostly in the now and try to be content. I eat Funyuns and Snickers; but I seldom eat fried foods, have almost completely cut out sodas (yes, it's a process) and am eating more salads and drinking more water (well water, that is). I still keep my pantry stocked with store-bought, canned veggies that don't all say "organic" but have become a fairly decent gardener and am learning better how to "put up" what we grow. I drive a truck that only gets 18 mpg and we do live a good little drive from town; but I am better about PLANNING trips for errands and what-not and use my cruise control as much as possible. I plan to grow old and die in this big ol', in NO way "green", house of ours but am getting better about cutting off "stuff" when not in use and teaching the kids to understand why that's important. I don't believe much of what the government says, and I don't think things are going to get better; but I realize that, honestly, while I can make some differences in the world, some things are just out of my hands and "meant to be". I realize we're all gonna die at some point...so eating a few less burgers isn't going to make me immortal...LOTS of "healthy" people die young while LOTS of chain-smokin', drug-takin', McDonald's-eatin' folks are outliving them.

It may sound like I'm just too pessimistic, pampered or simply going where the wind takes me, but I don't see it that way at all. I make changes and grow as I see and feel the need. I am trying to raise kids who are considerate and passionate and respectful and bright and positive and funny...knowing they will definitely be a bright light for someone needing it in their life, someday. I do my part...I try to be a good friend...I try to help others when I see a way to do so...and I pray. And, no, I'm still not doing nearly enough.

The only future I feel completely capable of truly preparing for is a life after all of this...and that is because there's a guide Book that, for me and my family, is Truth and knowledge. It's the ONLY thing I feel sure of in regards to THE FUTURE. I am not totally who I need to be all the time, but I do at least know who that is. There are no books for how to live life in the United States of China (I mean, America) in 30 years...no "how tos"...no Dummies Guide to Surviving Socialism with a Smile or Dummies Guide to Making the Most of Your Shanty Space, etc. There is no way to know so there's only so much true preparing you can do. No...I am just living what's right smack dab in front of me. The life I can see, smell, touch and taste...and just soaking in as much knowledge and observation and optimism and courage and freakin' happiness that I can while I can. "Why?", you ask.

...Because THAT is what I hope will sustain me no matter what THE FUTURE actually holds.

Sorry this was so lengthy. I know, on here, they suggest that you keep your blogs short and to the point to keep interest...BUT it's my blog universe; and in it, I get to talk A LOT...I'm just sayin'! ha

All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.
-- Havelock Ellis


I have heard people say "out with the old, in with the new" all of my life though I do not know where that statement originated...Obviously from someone who had mastered the art this Ellis person talks about above. I am quite sure I've never said it, thought it or dreamed about it. It goes against my nature, you see?

I have been called, many times, a pack rat. I don't know if there is such a thing and am surprised I haven't googled it yet. All I can gather from the name is that it is something (someone) of the rodent nature that collects and gathers and stores...think Templeton in Charlotte's Web...he was one of my favorite characters, by the way. The nickname seems to be said in a not-so-loving way with a bit of a smirk. Don't believe me? Then you've obviously not been privy to the numerous times we've built homes and moved....toting from one attic to another the boxes stuffed with my treasures. It doesn't phase me...the chiding...I just laugh and tell them where to shove the box...in the attic, silly!

Now, mind you, I am not one of THOSE you see on tv or whatever who have constructed pathways through their home to enter and exit each room. You know, piles and piles of boxes that look more like an adult-sized to scale model of downtown NYC? Heaven forbid! NO! So...please erase that vision from your precious little mind. I like a nice, clean house...box-free!

My treasures? Let's see...if the filing cabinets in my memory banks are up-to-date and organized (this is questionable because the employees up there sometimes take an unexcused leave-of-absence and don't call in), there are boxes or tubs that contain items like an empty Barq's rootbeer can that Anthony bought out of a machine for me at Chickasaw Park in the early days of dating, enough penpal letters from high school to reach to the moon and back (some of those guys I'd met over the summers wrote some cool letters! Geesh! AND I still keep in touch with a couple or so), the outfits the kids wore home from the hospital, Halloween costumes that are too small for all of us, letters and mementos from Grandmother, concert and movie tickets, greeting cards from, YES, everyone who has ever sent us one (ok...if I don't know the folks and it was very impersonal, I chunked it), deflated balloons my folks sent to me at high school on my 16th birthday, art and schoolwork both of the kids have done over the years and the very first rose I ever received from a guy (bless his heart...not at ALL my type, but he sent it with a note asking me out on a date, which I declined....What? Sue me! I was a young teen and he wasn't who I was pining for at the time. Gee...wonder what he's up to? He graduated with honors, top of our class....)....Ok....back on track. You see where I'm going with this? And I do actually own a couple or so junk drawers. They are more of a gathering place akin to a holding stall. I put potential keepsakes or "important" items in there and then occasionally go sort through and make the decision of what goes and what stays. Does it look bad that I leave the things that I might hold really dear in a drawer or box in the attic, unseen, and not put them on display downstairs? Hhhhmmm?

Why do I do that, you ask? I have NO idea. I really don't. My mother is pretty sentimental...she is the reason I have tubs of stuff that date back further than me being the one in charge of keeping my stuff. My grandparents are very sentimental. Grandmama sends greeting cards for every occasion, and oftentimes, those cards are enclosed with surprise pictures of when we were young that we've never seen or handkerchiefs our great-aunt carried or comic strips she clips that remind her of us. You think it might be genetic? Like we're missing an X chromosome or something?

But, just a few moments ago, I figured out that my inability to "let go" of things that have some sort of meaning to me, something that ties me to a past memory, carries over into other arenas. Anthony shakes his head when he walks into the bedroom and sees me deeply involved in yet another viewing of Jaws or 'Burbs or Space Cowboys or Poltergeist or, most definitely, Wizard of Oz and Grease...and there are MANY others. He, of course, refuses to watch any of those AGAIN because, well duh, they're old news...we know the ending...they're still just as cheesy maybe. But it really doesn't matter to me. I sit there engrossed JUST like I do when I wander through one of my boxes in the attic. I get totally lost there. Completely. I'm good if everyone would just leave me be at that moment. Join if you like, but DO NOT start nagging or talking over my thoughts and the characters' voices. hehe Is this a bad thing? Does this make me a loser? Does it look bad that I can't seem to let go of the past? Does it even matter? ha

Yet one more thing I know to be true about myself and this aspect of me...I hang onto people with just as tight a grip. They couldn't break away if they tried. I have never thrown anyone out with the trash. I have never walked away and left that box behind. Ever. Granted, some folks aren't brought "downstairs" and put on display in any manner like people who are in my daily life in whatever respect; but they ARE there. They never left. I bet there are several (no, I know there are because I've caught up with a few after years to find them shocked that I remembered so much about them and the time they were in my life) who do not even know they're "kept". I would hope this is an endearing quality to folks. Maybe this would make them smile at my packratedness (I coined a word!) instead of smirk because they understand the ramifications of how that filters down to their WORTH to me.

Know that YOU, once cherished, have not and never will be thrown out with the old.....

(Another one out of my Myspace archives)

I think I want to move to Never Neverland. No...not freak-boy Michael Jackson's llama-infested ranch. I mean, the place you can only get to flying through the clouds powered by Pixie dust and a child-like imagination...a place where you never grow up.

I watched Hook this morning. I've seen it a dozen times. It is corny, but I'm a big fan of Robin Williams. It hit me just right today. Made me wish I could go back several years and do it all over again..and continue to keep doing it over and over. Maybe it was because I have a house full of snowed-in guests...one, of which, is my baby brother. Being around the adult version of him always jerks me back into the reality of how quickly time has flown...he was seven years old when I packed my bags and trekked off to college. And wasn't that yesterday? Or maybe it is because I really do get overwhelmed sometimes by my responsibilities. But who doesn't, right, especially given the state of our world today? Or maybe it's because in just three short weeks, I will be another year closer to 40. FORTY! I realize it is just a number and it is "better than the alternative", as they say; but it blows my mind to realize I am there...a place that, at one time, seemed a light year away.

Whatever the reason...I want to go back to a time when my biggest responsibility was doing my homework and eating all my veggies...to a time when it was pretty cool to find a quarter and two pennies in the couch which was just enough money to buy a small cherry ICEE at the little gas station a block from our house...to a time when Saturdays meant getting up early with my younger sister, eating a pop-tart (to hold us until Mom got up) in front of the boob tube while getting lost in the swamp with Shaggy and Scooby, hollering "Captain Caaavvemmannn!" 'til we got fussed at for being too loud, riding along with Speed Buggy and imagining what it would be like to end up living with dinosaurs like the kids on "Land of the Lost". I want to go back to a place that allowed me to safely ride my bike for miles, all day long, with the kids in my neighborhood while Mom and Dad weren't even home...to a place where my best friend Beth and I waded in the cool water in the creek behind her house on a hot, summer day (even though were weren't supposed to because of snakes) wondering if we followed it far enough would we make it to the Cumberland River in Nashville and then to the Atlantic somehow...and to a place where the swing set at school enabled you to fly, the monkey bars made you feel like you could climb a skyscraper and the hills in our area turned you into a seasoned mountain climber. I want to go back to a time when I felt like I would live forever...like I did when I knew I would become a princess because I grew up and married Prince Charming...and like I did when I had my whole life ahead of me, when all of my experiences were new and exciting and scary.

Of course, I know it isn't realistically possible. Time travel, to my knowledge, is still non-existent. And I know that I would be in the same shoes as Robin's character once he embraced his alter ego, Peter Pan, and had to make a tough decision...to become an immortal child in a fairytale land or go home, grow up and enjoy the blessings of family and friends and life experiences only gained through marking days off a calendar. I would have to give up countless blessings. Not sure it would be worth that. The thought, however, still amuses my restlessness sometimes. I enjoy remembering, if nothing else. It makes me smile! I guess growing up is a choice, a mindset, anyway...and, I am very good at stomping my prissy little foot, willfully protesting the notion of doing anything I really don't want to. And, hey, maybe Heaven will be like that for me...reliving those childhood moments forevah! Who knows?!

"Things never turn out exactly the way you planned. I know they didn't with me. Still, like my father used to say, 'Traffic's traffic, you go where life takes you' and growing up happens in a heartbeat. One day you're in diapers, the next you're gone, but the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul. I remember a time a place, a particular fourth of July, the things that happened in that decade of war and change. I remember a house like a lot of houses, a yard like a lot of yards, on a street like a lot of other streets. I remember how hard it was growing up among people and places I loved. Most of all, I remember how hard it was to leave. And the thing is, after all these years I still look back in wonder.
~The Wonder Years

(written originally on 3/1/09)

I am a contradiction in terms. hehe No, really, I believe I am.
Here's what I know about myself....

I want to be noticed; but I don't want the world's eyes on me.

I want to be heard; but, when asked, I won't read aloud the poetry I write.

I want to "call it like it is", be open, cut through the bull; but I don't want the truth to hurt anyone or make anyone mad.

I want to make the most of my time; but I seem content to just sit around and waste time on the computer.

I "desperately" want to be tone, get fit; but I do NOT want any part of working out.

I'm sociable; but I don't do much socially.

I want to just be myself, be natural; but I seldom, if ever, leave my home without wearing make-up and decent clothes (no ballcap and jogging pants for me!).

I vote; but I strongly believe it really doesn't make one iota of difference.

I truly want to listen to everyone; but I can't shut up long enough to do so.

I don't care what others think of me; but I worry that I'm a disappointment to a lot of people.

I love to write things that I believe others will enjoy; but I don't let them read it.

I am an expert at procrastination; but I usually plan events months in advance, make list after list, adhere to them and breathe at a normal pace until it is over.

I'm optimistic; but I worry "what if" too much.

I believe everyone has an appointed date of death, "when it's your time to go, it's your time to go"; but I don't believe God's going to pick your lazy, desperate butt up off a railroad track in the nick of time JUST because your appointment date isn't for another 30 years.

I want to 'personally' improve others' lives; but I don't want them to ever know I did.

I believe I'm a good friend to have; but I wonder sometimes why any of my friends stick around.

I don't much care for Elvis Presley's music; but I love his movies (which are all musicals).

I love winter; but I don't like being cold.

I love to laugh and giggle a LOT; but I can cry over nothing and anything.

I play with fire; but I'm afraid to actually light a real match.

I love the beach; but the sand drives me nuts.

I find myself sometimes buying the crap the government feeds us; but I totally think there is something completely legitimate in conspiracy theories.

I wish for peace in the world; but I succumb to the belief that will never happen because it isn't supposed to.

I believe the Bible has all the answers; but I don't read it as often as I have unanswered questions.

I don't believe in the Boogeyman; but I am afraid to let my hand or leg hang off the bed at night.

My closest friends are girls (and I LOVE them); but I get along better with guys.

I don't really think I can sing; but I sing really loudly anyway and call it "harmonizing".

I love our neighbors; but I wish we were still the only house in our subdivision...............

See? What did I tell you? A complete contradiction...and this is only a partial list. I baffle myself...so I can only imagine what those around me must be thinking most of the time. LOL

**Ok...to at least get a few blogs going here for my adoring fans (I think there is, like, ONE and he's kinfolk, so...), I am going to start off just dusting off a few blogs I wrote a year or so ago, while part of MySpazz (aka Myspace). **

Here is my disclaimer...

There's more to me than meets the eye. So, look closely but take off your rose-tinted glasses first.

I'm not for the faint-of-heart, but for those with a heart of compassion and acceptance.

Accept me not just for who I am or who I was but also for who I want to be when it is all said and done...

Though my thoughts are often scattered, they come together, lock into place and form my essence...at that moment, anyway.

I get confused and lose my way at times, but I always find my way, for there is a guide...I just have to remember to ask for directions.

I do NOT want to be humored...You're either interested in what I have to say or what I'm about, or you're not...don't waste our time. And know that I am interested or I wouldn't be around.

Feel free to give your opinions...I'll listen, I'll reflect on them and I'll even be glad you felt the need to give them (if your heart was in the right place); but that DOES NOT mean I'll "take it and run with it".

I want to be a friend to anyone willing to be one, but I won't be someone I am not to feed that friendship.

If you cannot accept others in their flawed nature, realizing that you yourself are also flawed, I have a low tolerance level for you...but I love you anyway because I realize that THAT is one of YOUR flaws. ;-)

And know that if we become friends, I will bring it all to the table, hoping for the same in return; and then I'm your friend for life, often unable to let go of a friendship even if you walk away and leave me holding the bag.

So, there ya go.....I REALLY am just sayin'.