Sunday school is a long time ago, but some things stick with you. Music especially welds itself into my brain, never to be released. This was a good thing when I was performing in various choirs, but annoying when I make myself porridge and the Quaker Oats “we’re going to make a hot cereal lover out of you” ditty starts playing in my brain. Music … Continue reading I’ve got that joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart.
I like to dance. I’ve had little in the way of training – I took a belly course once, and I studied gymnastics for a few years which is somewhat related. I’ve learned that training doesn’t matter, especially if you’re not onstage making it a career. Dancing is from the heart. And the hips. Don’t forget the hips. And lift those feet. Of course, finding … Continue reading Saturdays are for dancing.
I’ve always had music. I’ve played piano since I was five, and I picked up a few more instruments along the way. I sing. I listen. I dance. I’m not sure how people don’t have music. I’m not sure how people don’t move to the music. I went to a show put on by The Chicks a few years back. The security guard in our … Continue reading I like to move it.
Would you like to know my definition of bitch? Beauty In Total Control, Honey. [i] My brain is calmer today and I haven’t even picked up the meds my psychiatrist added to my regimen to make it shut up. I need to reset to a state where I can manage my dysfunction. The drug’s called loxapine, and the reviews on effectiveness by people who’re struggling … Continue reading You say “bitch” like it’s a bad thing.
From Famine to Feast. 