Storm green

You know that crisp clean green the foliage gets just before a storm. The vibrance of the sun as it is being chased by the clouds. That has to be one of my favorite colors in life. Storm green. The last few moments of sunlight fade and there in lies the rain. My life seems like a lovely shade of storm green lately. It's almost as if I can feel a storm building just around the corner. Maybe thats just a bit of the dramatics kicking up in me, but I feel like I need a good storm in my life every once in a while to make me appreciate all the sunny days that get laid at my feet. Alot of people have told me I always have my head in the clouds, and to them I say kiss my ass, I 'll see a good storm coming way the hell before they will, and when you see it coming it always softens the blow. Stormy weather, adjectives, greens and greys, write it on paper, wad it up, in the end it['s all just trash anyways...

You Are The Hanging Man

You represent the seeking of enlightenment and spiritual clarity. You tend to confuse others, but your oddities seem deeply satisfying. Self sacrifice is easy for you, especially if it makes you a better person in the end. You are the type of person who is very in touch with your soul and inner spirit. Your fortune: Right now is a good time for reflection and meditation. You should stop resisting the problems in your life, and let yourself be vulnerable to them. You may need to sacrifice something important to you to move ahead in your life. Accept your destiny with courage, and learn to let go of what you think you need.

What Tarot Card Are You?

You Are Running on 84% Adrenaline

Your Adrenaline Level: Very Dangerous Life is passing you by so quickly, you hardly can notice what's going on. You definitely need to slow down before you crash hard!

Are You Running on Adrenaline?

Sheep in wool clothing

I was walking through the local wal-mart, minding my own, when I hear out of nowhere someone shout my name. Now I am not a social butterfly, I do not seek companions, those of you reading this are probably shaking your head and chuckling a little, I digress. It was more than a little strange, because I have lived here going on three years now, and to my knowledge have yet to make any real friends, or acquaintances for that matter. It was almost like my bubble had been burst. My little shell had been cracked. My invisibility cloak had fallen off. I didn't like it. It turned out to be a plant junkie that recognized me from work and wanted to ask me about this bug and that flower, yada yada, but the heart of the matter is just how much I like this new life where I don't run into "old high school pals", or pregnant cousins, or ex's or past teachers or lovers or preachers or anybody. I have really done it. So tomorrow, when I go to this or that random convenient store for gum or soda, or whatever it is I need, I will smile, and know that I am a recreated me, in old me clothing. Kinda like a sheep wearing wool, still me, just me on my own terms. Weird these thoughts that come and go.

Some sweet morning

"Run!" I could feel the hair standing up on my neck as I scrambled over the fence. The bib of my cut-off overalls flapping against me with every step. The three of us had beaten every bloom on my grandmothers snowball bush silly, and danced in the April sun as the petals fell on our heads. My two brothers were older and could run faster, and further, and me being the youngest and the only girl, I was bound to the property with an invisible band that even I knew better than to break. I would get my butt busted and be back in the house playing paper dolls by the time the boys came home to face the full festered wrath of a woman suffering the loss of a prized garden pet. I miss those days. I use to lay in the back yard under the oaks and tie clover flowers together all day making chains. I would drape them from this tree to that junk car, tie them on the old stray dogs collar. These are the places I hide now in my heart. These are the things you can only have once. I long for those sweet spring mornings when we would wake up to the sound of the old steam train making the rounds with tourist "visiting the countryside". I use to run to the track and wave at the people and think to myself how lucky they were to see the world, even if it was just a small stretch from Tennessee to Kentucky. I'm realitivly young to have experienced a childhood like I did. I remember getting indoor plumbing. It was pretty darn cool the first time hot water came out of the wall and not off of the stove. The heat came from the fireplace, the AC came from opening the windows, and the education started as soon as you woke up. I think I could snap beans before I could talk, I rode on a tractor before I rode a bike, and I would have rather been feeding dirt to the cows than dressing up for sunday school anyday. I spent my summers barefoot and stringy haired making mud pies in the garden. I spent my winters dreaming of summers. I loved sleeping there in the one room with my family. The boys in one bed, me and my mom in the other. By todays standards we were dirt poor, but I thought I had everything as long as I could stare out that open window at night, away from street lights, no cars going by, lightining bugs flashing in a jar on the window seal, dozing off to sleep dreaming of the smell of the next sweet morning...

I stared down a gator...

I stared down a gator in the Louisiana glades, and I winked and I waved and I waded away...
I have volumes more to say about my little trip, but right now its marinating, right now it's still just mine...