I wish I could write a blog about food, or take really cool pictures and show people the world through my eyes. I am no painter or artist, although I will give myself props for having a way with words and I can actually sing my butt off. I don’t do it enough, but when I do it completely consumes me. I love to perform, hence writing a personal journal in a public forum, not that this is true performance. I karaoke with a vengeance, and sing on demand for my family because they like it. When my husband can’t sleep and is restless I sing until he dozes off, and sometimes for a while afterwards because I find it soothing too. I know when I am really happy or lost in thought because I will start singing without realizing I am doing it. I wish I knew how to post a recording to my blog so you could judge for yourself, but I am sure my Mom will comment and back me up. Not sure where this is going, other than I am surrounded by people of various talents, some crafty, some technically talented, others founts of useless but entertaining knowledge. My cup is never full enough of these varied levels of wonderfully handy, crafty, artsy people. I find my mind racing to quickly lately to sink into my couch and do a craft or have the energy to drag my butt off of that couch and go to a bar and sing a few songs on the karaoke machine. We’ve had no parties lately that would have given me my outlet either. I think what I am trying to say is the emotional deeply rooted need I have right now is for peace, so my mind can rest and I can do something’s that I enjoy instead of running myself ragged doing god only knows what. I mean to look at my calendar right now you would choke because there is not one day without some appointment, requirement of my time or deadline I am facing. Most of this is by choice but whatever I am allowed to bitch about my crazy life here, it’s my blog and I do what I want. See, I am taking control, of my little corner of the blogosphere.
Sorry, I got so intense for a second. Where was I? Oh yeah, I want to get back to what I enjoy and I know I have said it before but what lies ahead is rough choices and disappointment. The way I see it is I will delay making the choice until I have no other option but to quit something that I love for something else I love. Sometimes I liked it more when I was in the deep dark depression, no one expected to see me, so while the isolation sucked and wasn’t peaceful really it was still alone time, down town, whatever. That’s the only thing I miss about being unwell, is the ability to crawl into bed at 6pm and not be judged for it. Well, I was judged but nobody did it to my face, just behind my back.
I think the song in my soul today is slow and sad, Nina Simone or Billy Holiday. Maybe something more mainstream like Nat King Cole or Frank Sinatra, but it’s definitely a slow sad tune, meant to remind people of love who were lost, or love that lasts forever and ever. Maybe I will go home and crank up the Adele and sing at the top of my lungs, but first I will see if my dogs will sit and stay and be my audience. Gotta fulfill that inner need, anyway that I can until the tough choices need to be made.