The other day one of my fellow #Duransistas (GeorgieDavis1) made mention of hearing the song "The Reflex" in concert on the upcoming Duran Duran tour. The thought of singing the opening of that song - that iconic 80's anthem, with 1000's of other people who are there in that moment, for the same reason I am, is significant and likely to be very emotional.
The Reflex is not my favourite Duran Duran song by any stretch. But those few notes...that one, non-verbal line, is a significant reminder of when things were fun as a teenager. Before life was saddled with adult responsibilities.
I laugh when I watch all these youtube videos, that people have posted of their concerts that they have been to. To put it bluntly, we are Simon's minions. He has us so well trained we know when to respond, what to respond, and how to respond. And we do it all. Gladly. Right from the opening of "The Reflex" (Da nanana) to the hand motions to "Bat your lashes, let it shine" (If you just did the hand motions...it's okay - you're among friends, no judgements here). Then of course there's the response to "On bass guitar....John Taylor!!!!" Yep...THAT'S the response! Oh and God forbid we forget the response to "Say my name...." How could we EVER forget?? He has us well trained.
I can't even really think about the upcoming tour that much as I get to excited. It's going to be bad enough when we DO find out the show is going on sale. I will be needing to be pulled off the ceiling. I can't even think about that right now. I get so excited and they haven't even announced our date yet, OR a venue!!!
I've never experienced this euphoric feeling before. I mean yes, I've felt euphoric about music before....But no other band/group/singer has ever made me excited like this. Their music, simply put....turns me on. Not in a sexual sense, although in some instances, it could (and has).
I know the day of the concert, my dear friends and likely the days leading up to, I am going to become exceedingly hyper. For that...I apologize well in advance. Rachel, I will most definitely shed tears, sequel like a teenager, grab your arm and possibly your hand at the show. For that too...I apologize now. But I can think of no other person more fitting to share that specific experience with.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
Thursday, 30 June 2011
I gotta pee!!
I just recently told this story to my sister in law Mary (although to be honest, I thought I told her YEARS ago. She insists I didn't.) ANYWAY....
In February of 1991, my Mom lived in Anaheim California. My husband and I were posted to a very remote portion of British Columbia Canada, and as such the Canadian Forces gave each member (and their family) money towards an "Off Island" trip per year.
For our son's first birthday we decided to go to LA to see my Mom. I was about 5 months pregnant; with our daughter; and I REALLY had to pee when we arrived. (If you have never been pregnant before -- there is NOTHING even remotely like having to pee when you're pregnant -- when you have to go...YOU HAVE TO GO THEN. PERIOD) My Mom and hubby went to grab the bags while I hauled ass to the bathroom.
I was trucking my ass through the airport, head down, when I rounded the corner I LITERALLY walked into this guy and this HUGE black gentleman. I remember I said excuse me, and I think I muttered something of an apology as well. I looked up at the guy quickly who grinned at me and asked if I was okay. I said yes and kept walking.
Fast forward about 3 minutes later. I'm alone in the women's washroom, when all of a sudden it strikes me who I had walked into. My eyes widen, I remember I did something vaguely resembling a wipe, flush and wash of my hands (in record time I'm sure) as I scrambled out of the bathroom to see if I could find him again. But he was long gone.
After, when I didn't see him, I had a momentary doubt run through my head that I wasn't even sure it was him.
This WAS LA after all, and I thought maybe I was just looking TOO hard and thought EVERYONE was a celebrity. The next night watching Arsenio Hall I got my answer. The person I had walked into mentioned that he had flown into LA the night before. I about shit my pants.
I LITERALLY walked into Donnie Wahlberg, and then kept walking...all because I had to pee.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
In February of 1991, my Mom lived in Anaheim California. My husband and I were posted to a very remote portion of British Columbia Canada, and as such the Canadian Forces gave each member (and their family) money towards an "Off Island" trip per year.
For our son's first birthday we decided to go to LA to see my Mom. I was about 5 months pregnant; with our daughter; and I REALLY had to pee when we arrived. (If you have never been pregnant before -- there is NOTHING even remotely like having to pee when you're pregnant -- when you have to go...YOU HAVE TO GO THEN. PERIOD) My Mom and hubby went to grab the bags while I hauled ass to the bathroom.
I was trucking my ass through the airport, head down, when I rounded the corner I LITERALLY walked into this guy and this HUGE black gentleman. I remember I said excuse me, and I think I muttered something of an apology as well. I looked up at the guy quickly who grinned at me and asked if I was okay. I said yes and kept walking.
Fast forward about 3 minutes later. I'm alone in the women's washroom, when all of a sudden it strikes me who I had walked into. My eyes widen, I remember I did something vaguely resembling a wipe, flush and wash of my hands (in record time I'm sure) as I scrambled out of the bathroom to see if I could find him again. But he was long gone.
After, when I didn't see him, I had a momentary doubt run through my head that I wasn't even sure it was him.
This WAS LA after all, and I thought maybe I was just looking TOO hard and thought EVERYONE was a celebrity. The next night watching Arsenio Hall I got my answer. The person I had walked into mentioned that he had flown into LA the night before. I about shit my pants.
I LITERALLY walked into Donnie Wahlberg, and then kept walking...all because I had to pee.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
Monday, 27 June 2011
Things about me
This is my blog about things either people can learn about me, from me, or just get a laugh reading. Or all of the above. Lets see what I can tell you about myself...
Did you learn anything??
One Last Glimpse,
~K
- I'm the youngest of two girls
- Wooden ventriloquist dummies and clown dolls terrify me, and china dolls freak me out.
- Every guy that I liked/had a crush on in high school (with the exception of my husband) ALL had VERY dark or dark brown hair and eyes. (Movie stars and musicians included with the LONE exception of SLB)
- The first crush I had in high school (named Nick Teevan) resembled John Taylor but it wasn't until recently that I saw it. And it was actually a NON Duranie friend that pointed it out to me. She stated "I assumed that's why you liked him". Apparently not since I didn't even realize it! Woops!
- I always wanted to be a hairdresser for as long as I can remember.
- My hair has been almost every "natural" colour there is, and a couple that aren't.
- I lost my virginity to my husband at age 16.
- My Uncle Jim once commented that he could see me with 5 children.
- My first concert ever was Animotion opening for Platinum Blonde.
- I've met Elvis Stojko a few times (world champion figure skater). My Aunt Bev used to rent a basement apartment from The Stojko's when he was quite young (8 or so).
- My middle name (Maureen) is after Maureen O'Hara
- I've loved Duran for almost 30 years and in all that time I've never seen them live. I've been close...sort of.
- I LITERALLY walked into someone famous at LAX (Los Angeles International Airport), but didn't realize who it was until after the fact (I REALLY had to pee). By then he was gone.
- I'm useless at all science except Biology
- I'm even worse at Math
- English, Music, and History were my favorite subjects in high school
- My first boyfriend in public school was a kid named Tommy Moore.
- My first boyfriend in high school was a kid named Sean Crowe.
- My first kiss was a kid named Rick Cole (I was about 7 or 8 I think???)
- The worst movie I ever saw was a movie called "Weekend Pass", and for some reason we sat through the whole thing instead of getting up and leaving.
- I've always wanted a VW Bug (Rag Top preferred of course!)
- The night I lost my virginity was the same night George Michael's "Father Figure" video made it's world premiere. My husband had left the television on in the other room, and I went out to watch it when it came on. Alan INSISTS to this day that I shoved him off mid-coitus to go watch it, but that's absolutely not true....I don't think.
- My 3 favorite movies of all time are "West Side Story", "Somewhere in Time" and "Labyrinth"
- Two of those movies ALWAYS make me cry.
- On my wedding day my Father hugged Alan and said to him with a laugh and a smile "She's your problem now!" Alan LOVED that saying so much he would repeat it. My father has NO recollection of this event taking place at ALL. True story!
- I love my car, but I like that Alan's is a standard.
- I have a fixation with 'steampunk'
- Gay Marriage should be legal no matter where you are.
- Warren Cuccurullo gets on my nerves. (Don't worry if you don't know who he is..he's not worth your time).
- This current shift that I am working feels like I've been here for days.
- My friends are very dear to me.
- I have a slight girl crush on the chick who plays Callie from Grey's Anatomy.
- I enjoy musicals.
- I'm a "Glee"k and proud of it.
- I'm a "Duranie" and proud of it. (duh!)
- I enjoy Karaoke - and ALWAYS sing at least one Duran song (usually Rio)
- I've never been arrested.
- I have no tattoos currently BUT I have 2 that I want to get.
- I tend to speed. (Woopsies!) But I have never been caught.
- I don't always brush my teeth before bed.
- My favorite Duran song of all time is The Chauffeur. Followed by Drive By, and Girls on Film.
- One of my favorite songs EVER is "America" by Neil Diamond
- My mother FORBID me from EVER watching The Jefferson's again after I uttered the "N" word in our car with My Mom, sister, a friend of my Mom's and I when I was about 8.
- I have only ever contemplated suicide once - it was short lived.
- My favorite meal is rack of lamb.
- I LOVE sushi, which is funny because I didn't want to try it. BUT I don't do wasabi.
- When we would play house as a kid I would always be named "Heather"...I have no idea why I'd choose that name, none of my kids are named "Heather". lol
- My favorite colour is teal.
- My heritage is Scottish/English/Irish. It is rumored that one of my relatives was a guard at Buckingham palace -- my understanding is you have to be related to the royal family in some fashion to become a guard. You may refer to me as Her Royal Heigness from now on, thank you.
- The only other band that I could listen to forever and not get tired of them (BESIDES Duran/Arcadia) is Savage Garden/Darren Hayes. (Who I had the PLEASURE of seeing in concert when Savage Garden was still together on the Superstars and Cannonballs tour in 2000 I believe?)
Did you learn anything??
One Last Glimpse,
~K
Sunday, 26 June 2011
Welcome to Fantasy Island.....or not.
Allow me to tell you my fair readers about one of the most terrifying, traumatizing, and in retrospect HILARIOUS moments of my childhood.
My sister Kristen and I were out visiting my Dad for the weekend, we had friends visiting however Lynn and Jim (the Mom and Dad), Rick and Bruce (their sons) all slept in their camper in the drive way when they would come to visit, just so no one would be put out of their beds. Unless it was winter, and then all bets were off.
Kristen and I had asked our Dad (as part of our usual Saturday evening ritual) if we could watch Love Boat and then Fantasy Island which followed afterward. My Dad agreed, but the boys declined to watch and they went out to the camper. We watched Love Boat and then started to watch Fantasy Island when our Dad informed us that he, Lynn, and Jim were going for a walk to the beach.
Now...let me paint a scene for you. My Dad's house is beach front property in Southwestern Ontario Canada, with a lovely view of Lake Huron. It's relatively secluded in a small cottage community, surrounded by farm land. It's basically the kind of community where an 80's horror flick could have EASILY been filmed. It's awesome. So much so in fact, later on I used to tease a friend of mine when he was stoned about how much my Dad's house looked structurally like the Amityville Horror house and he'd freak. It was awesome. TEE HEE!
Anyway, back to my original ramblings. Don't you hate it when things go off topic? I mean they just talk, talk, talk and then when they TRY to get back on subject they get lost. Where was I? KIDDING!
So, where my Dad's television was in the house was on the lakeside, in a screened in, windows on 3 of the 4 sides porch. It was very windy that night, and I think it may have been late summer, possibly early fall.
Boys out in their camper, Dad, Lynn and Jim off for a walk, Kristen and I watched Love Boat and stared on Fantasy Island. Now, if you'll recall (or if you don't) there was the odd occasion where Fantasy Island could be a little scary. Well that night it had something to do with a demonically possessed ventriloquist dummy. Far fetched? Of course! Terrifying?? YOU BETCHA!!! I don't like those old fashioned wooden dummies to begin with - You'd have NEVER caught me watching Howdy Doodie...screw that crap. Not a chance. I don't mind Muppets, or Jeff Dunham, or even Chuck and Bob from Soap. But get Waylan and Madam the fuck away from me thanks. It just freaks me the hell out. Likely because of what I'm about to tell you, but just in general, they scare me. No. REALLY. SERIOUSLY. That scene in Poltergeist...you know the one with the ventriloquist clown thing? OMFG dude, seriously. No. Just. No.
So I'm about 8 or 9 I think and I'm watching this. At the absolute climax of terror in the episode we hear this scratching. Now keep in mind it's windy, and outside the porch there are these large bushes with branches on them. Kristen says it's the branches in the wind on the glass, we go back to watching. Until suddenly the scratching starts again, both Kristen and I look in the direction of where it's coming from and see this hand clawing down the screen. That's it.....just a hand. And we scream. And I mean full on put Jamie Lee Curtis to shame, full on scream. And we run into the living room (together) where the phone is, heading to call 911, screaming all the way, thinking poor Rick and Bruce have been done in by some homicidal maniac disembodied hand. Kristen runs for the phone and there's this banging on the front door, we scream again and I grab a cast iron fireplace poker and batter up like Babe fuckin Ruth.
At THIS point my Dad starts SCREAMING at the door while he's banging on it, that it's him and to stop screaming, and for the love of GOD DON'T call 911. We open the door, and go from screaming to sobbing wildly. We walk back out to the porch while he reassures us that there is no mass murderer coming to kill us and drag our bleeding bodies to the cornfield up the road.
JUST as he's got us relatively calmed down, Jim comes along and does the EXACT same thing my Dad had just done on the window, sending my sister and I over the edge once more. Dad reassures us that it's JUST Jim and Lynn and to calm down. I don't know if my Dad EVER let us watch Fantasy Island alone ever again.
About 25 years later in a restaurant in western Canada over breakfast that night was brought up with my Dad. He remarked that He, Lynn and Jim had just finished smoking a joint or two on their walk and his plan was to come into the house, lock it up and go drift off into a mellow state of sleep. When we began screaming like lunatics he lost his high pretty quickly apparently. Serves ya right! Dumbass!
One Last Glimpse,
~K
My sister Kristen and I were out visiting my Dad for the weekend, we had friends visiting however Lynn and Jim (the Mom and Dad), Rick and Bruce (their sons) all slept in their camper in the drive way when they would come to visit, just so no one would be put out of their beds. Unless it was winter, and then all bets were off.
Kristen and I had asked our Dad (as part of our usual Saturday evening ritual) if we could watch Love Boat and then Fantasy Island which followed afterward. My Dad agreed, but the boys declined to watch and they went out to the camper. We watched Love Boat and then started to watch Fantasy Island when our Dad informed us that he, Lynn, and Jim were going for a walk to the beach.
Now...let me paint a scene for you. My Dad's house is beach front property in Southwestern Ontario Canada, with a lovely view of Lake Huron. It's relatively secluded in a small cottage community, surrounded by farm land. It's basically the kind of community where an 80's horror flick could have EASILY been filmed. It's awesome. So much so in fact, later on I used to tease a friend of mine when he was stoned about how much my Dad's house looked structurally like the Amityville Horror house and he'd freak. It was awesome. TEE HEE!
Anyway, back to my original ramblings. Don't you hate it when things go off topic? I mean they just talk, talk, talk and then when they TRY to get back on subject they get lost. Where was I? KIDDING!
So, where my Dad's television was in the house was on the lakeside, in a screened in, windows on 3 of the 4 sides porch. It was very windy that night, and I think it may have been late summer, possibly early fall.
Boys out in their camper, Dad, Lynn and Jim off for a walk, Kristen and I watched Love Boat and stared on Fantasy Island. Now, if you'll recall (or if you don't) there was the odd occasion where Fantasy Island could be a little scary. Well that night it had something to do with a demonically possessed ventriloquist dummy. Far fetched? Of course! Terrifying?? YOU BETCHA!!! I don't like those old fashioned wooden dummies to begin with - You'd have NEVER caught me watching Howdy Doodie...screw that crap. Not a chance. I don't mind Muppets, or Jeff Dunham, or even Chuck and Bob from Soap. But get Waylan and Madam the fuck away from me thanks. It just freaks me the hell out. Likely because of what I'm about to tell you, but just in general, they scare me. No. REALLY. SERIOUSLY. That scene in Poltergeist...you know the one with the ventriloquist clown thing? OMFG dude, seriously. No. Just. No.
So I'm about 8 or 9 I think and I'm watching this. At the absolute climax of terror in the episode we hear this scratching. Now keep in mind it's windy, and outside the porch there are these large bushes with branches on them. Kristen says it's the branches in the wind on the glass, we go back to watching. Until suddenly the scratching starts again, both Kristen and I look in the direction of where it's coming from and see this hand clawing down the screen. That's it.....just a hand. And we scream. And I mean full on put Jamie Lee Curtis to shame, full on scream. And we run into the living room (together) where the phone is, heading to call 911, screaming all the way, thinking poor Rick and Bruce have been done in by some homicidal maniac disembodied hand. Kristen runs for the phone and there's this banging on the front door, we scream again and I grab a cast iron fireplace poker and batter up like Babe fuckin Ruth.
At THIS point my Dad starts SCREAMING at the door while he's banging on it, that it's him and to stop screaming, and for the love of GOD DON'T call 911. We open the door, and go from screaming to sobbing wildly. We walk back out to the porch while he reassures us that there is no mass murderer coming to kill us and drag our bleeding bodies to the cornfield up the road.
JUST as he's got us relatively calmed down, Jim comes along and does the EXACT same thing my Dad had just done on the window, sending my sister and I over the edge once more. Dad reassures us that it's JUST Jim and Lynn and to calm down. I don't know if my Dad EVER let us watch Fantasy Island alone ever again.
About 25 years later in a restaurant in western Canada over breakfast that night was brought up with my Dad. He remarked that He, Lynn and Jim had just finished smoking a joint or two on their walk and his plan was to come into the house, lock it up and go drift off into a mellow state of sleep. When we began screaming like lunatics he lost his high pretty quickly apparently. Serves ya right! Dumbass!
One Last Glimpse,
~K
Saturday, 25 June 2011
The first time...ever I saw your face
I'm sure you're wondering how I met my husband, the love of my life. Well it's actually quite funny. We met many times prior to our final actual "meeting" unbeknownst to either of us.
Once Upon a Time....
When I was going into grade 8, we moved and I switched schools. Half way through that same year we moved again and I switched BACK to the school I had left at the end of grade 7. (It was all a matter of the fact that we had left the district and I wasn't allowed to go to that school - but when we went to move again in the middle of grade 8 I informed my Mom I didn't want to go to ANOTHER new school and graduate with total strangers. I either wanted to go BACK to my old school or stay put. My friend Natalie's Mom and My Mom hatched a plan that I ended up back at my old school. As far as the board of Education was concerned I lived at 205 Mc Master Court, WELL within the district - at one Nat's house. Only the principal knew I actually lived clear across the city and took a city bus every day to school. He told my Mother as long as I promised to keep my attendance up and not miss TOO much school would he be able keep his mouth shut.
Behind the townhouse that we moved to in the later half of grade 8 (1985), was a large soccer field, beyond that was a variety store that my mother would frequently send me over for milk and what not. I remember I'd walk over, through the field, and in the spring/summer there would be a group of boys playing soccer. I remember a few times returning a runaway ball to this blonde boy...really cute too.
Fast forward a year. I'm in grade 9 in high school. We have this band that came in to perform during the day for the school and then that evening. They said that if any students wanted to volunteer that evening to help load up the equipment at the end of the show to stay and sign up. So I did. My friend Mia was going nuts over one of them, I don't remember which...it wasn't like it was Duran Duran so I didn't care. I was told later that the geeks of the sound and light crew were calling us "groupies" and making fun. THEY made fun of US??? Fuck that shit! I was a roadie dammit! I don't know what the other girls were...but I was a ROADIE!!!!
Anyway, during one number the singer was making his way through the audience making all the young girls swoon, and he starts running towards the stage. He miscalculated the jump up, bashes his knee into the edge of the stage (4 years later you could still see the dent he'd made in the wood and the little bit of blood), ripped the knee of his jeans and cut his knee WIDE open. I mean, it was bad. He manages to finish the song, and hobbles off stage. I left the auditorium, to find him sitting outside in a chair being tended to (you guessed it) this blonde boy (I'd love to say we recognized each other -- but we didn't). I offered to help, but he says he's in the military reserve as a medic (which you can begin at 16 here in Canada) and thanks but no thanks (politely). Fair enough.
Fast forward 2 more years. Grade 11 drama class. I remember we were all standing in a circle and had to rhyme off everyone's name prior to us. I saw this guy (and to be honest it wasn't until later it was the same guy). Blonde, short Billy Idol spiked hair, faded jeans, and a t-shirt. YUM! I paused on him and pretended I couldn't remember his name so that he'd have to "creatively" introduce himself to me. (I don't even know if he knows that HAHAHA! What a vixen I am!!) But I have to say, in my dastardly plan of getting to meet this guy I wasn't prepared for what he did. He literally leaped from his point to DIRECTLY in front of me in one bound, from a stand still position. And we're talking about 5 1/2 feet away from me. Announced with a huge grin, and loud voice said "HI! I'M ALAN!!!" And gave me a MASSIVE hug.
About 2 weeks later we were dating and I was in love. Big time. We had loads in common, so much so we even have the SAME birthday although he's 2 years older than I. It hasn't always been easy, in fact there have been times where it's down right sucked....for both of us. But he's my other half, the yin to my yang...or yang to my yin? And I wouldn't trade him for the world.
And they lived happily ever after.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
Once Upon a Time....
When I was going into grade 8, we moved and I switched schools. Half way through that same year we moved again and I switched BACK to the school I had left at the end of grade 7. (It was all a matter of the fact that we had left the district and I wasn't allowed to go to that school - but when we went to move again in the middle of grade 8 I informed my Mom I didn't want to go to ANOTHER new school and graduate with total strangers. I either wanted to go BACK to my old school or stay put. My friend Natalie's Mom and My Mom hatched a plan that I ended up back at my old school. As far as the board of Education was concerned I lived at 205 Mc Master Court, WELL within the district - at one Nat's house. Only the principal knew I actually lived clear across the city and took a city bus every day to school. He told my Mother as long as I promised to keep my attendance up and not miss TOO much school would he be able keep his mouth shut.
Behind the townhouse that we moved to in the later half of grade 8 (1985), was a large soccer field, beyond that was a variety store that my mother would frequently send me over for milk and what not. I remember I'd walk over, through the field, and in the spring/summer there would be a group of boys playing soccer. I remember a few times returning a runaway ball to this blonde boy...really cute too.
Fast forward a year. I'm in grade 9 in high school. We have this band that came in to perform during the day for the school and then that evening. They said that if any students wanted to volunteer that evening to help load up the equipment at the end of the show to stay and sign up. So I did. My friend Mia was going nuts over one of them, I don't remember which...it wasn't like it was Duran Duran so I didn't care. I was told later that the geeks of the sound and light crew were calling us "groupies" and making fun. THEY made fun of US??? Fuck that shit! I was a roadie dammit! I don't know what the other girls were...but I was a ROADIE!!!!
Anyway, during one number the singer was making his way through the audience making all the young girls swoon, and he starts running towards the stage. He miscalculated the jump up, bashes his knee into the edge of the stage (4 years later you could still see the dent he'd made in the wood and the little bit of blood), ripped the knee of his jeans and cut his knee WIDE open. I mean, it was bad. He manages to finish the song, and hobbles off stage. I left the auditorium, to find him sitting outside in a chair being tended to (you guessed it) this blonde boy (I'd love to say we recognized each other -- but we didn't). I offered to help, but he says he's in the military reserve as a medic (which you can begin at 16 here in Canada) and thanks but no thanks (politely). Fair enough.
Fast forward 2 more years. Grade 11 drama class. I remember we were all standing in a circle and had to rhyme off everyone's name prior to us. I saw this guy (and to be honest it wasn't until later it was the same guy). Blonde, short Billy Idol spiked hair, faded jeans, and a t-shirt. YUM! I paused on him and pretended I couldn't remember his name so that he'd have to "creatively" introduce himself to me. (I don't even know if he knows that HAHAHA! What a vixen I am!!) But I have to say, in my dastardly plan of getting to meet this guy I wasn't prepared for what he did. He literally leaped from his point to DIRECTLY in front of me in one bound, from a stand still position. And we're talking about 5 1/2 feet away from me. Announced with a huge grin, and loud voice said "HI! I'M ALAN!!!" And gave me a MASSIVE hug.
About 2 weeks later we were dating and I was in love. Big time. We had loads in common, so much so we even have the SAME birthday although he's 2 years older than I. It hasn't always been easy, in fact there have been times where it's down right sucked....for both of us. But he's my other half, the yin to my yang...or yang to my yin? And I wouldn't trade him for the world.
And they lived happily ever after.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
I believe I can fly...Ok...not really.
I believe in past lives, I believe in reincarnation, I read tarot cards, I believe in the healing power of crystals. I believe in witches, warlocks and things that go bump in the night. I believe in ghosts, spirits, out of body experiences, ESP, and poltergeists. I believe in aliens, and life on other planets..although I don't know that I believe in abduction although I suppose anything is possible. And I also believe in Atlantis. Have I left anything out????
I USED to have faith in a God of sorts, and I suppose even call myself a Christian. But I don't know. It's a selfish reason I suppose as to why I have turned away from Christianity. But that's the way it goes I guess. If I come back next life as a bug then I guess I was wrong. Whoops! My bad! And so it goes....
I bet you're wondering dear reader why I don't consider myself a Christian. Like I said it's a selfish reason but also simple. God didn't answer my prayers and save my Mom. He easily could have saved her...but didn't. And I can assure you...I've learned NOTHING from the loss of my mother. Aside from the fact that it hurt, and it was painful and I miss her daily. But I can tell you, I could have JUST as easily learned that in other ways that didn't involve her passing. People like Charlie Manson are still alive but my Mom had to go? That is fair and just HOW exactly??? My Mother in Law died of a massive heart attack 6 months prior to My Mom's passing, and yet people like Paul Bernardo are still alive. REALLY??? And THAT is fair how??? I could go on and on but to be honest it just pisses me off. Like I said, it's stupid and it's selfish but when I needed God the most...He did NOTHING to help. So, I'm done. Again if I come back as a bug in the next life...whoops my bad.
As for as much as I'm a non believer (and I don't know if I'd call myself that or not -- I'm sure there is a higher power but I'm just not speaking to Him/Her/It at the moment), these people who find Jesus, God or whomever on their death bed crack me up. Oh NOW you want to make sure you don't burn in the feiry depths. Are you KIDDING me? REALLY??? The born again mass murderers and pedos crack me up the most I think. Not a fucking chance. There's a special part of Hell just for you buddy. Period. End of. Fuck off. NEXT!!!
One Last Glimpse,
~K
I USED to have faith in a God of sorts, and I suppose even call myself a Christian. But I don't know. It's a selfish reason I suppose as to why I have turned away from Christianity. But that's the way it goes I guess. If I come back next life as a bug then I guess I was wrong. Whoops! My bad! And so it goes....
I bet you're wondering dear reader why I don't consider myself a Christian. Like I said it's a selfish reason but also simple. God didn't answer my prayers and save my Mom. He easily could have saved her...but didn't. And I can assure you...I've learned NOTHING from the loss of my mother. Aside from the fact that it hurt, and it was painful and I miss her daily. But I can tell you, I could have JUST as easily learned that in other ways that didn't involve her passing. People like Charlie Manson are still alive but my Mom had to go? That is fair and just HOW exactly??? My Mother in Law died of a massive heart attack 6 months prior to My Mom's passing, and yet people like Paul Bernardo are still alive. REALLY??? And THAT is fair how??? I could go on and on but to be honest it just pisses me off. Like I said, it's stupid and it's selfish but when I needed God the most...He did NOTHING to help. So, I'm done. Again if I come back as a bug in the next life...whoops my bad.
As for as much as I'm a non believer (and I don't know if I'd call myself that or not -- I'm sure there is a higher power but I'm just not speaking to Him/Her/It at the moment), these people who find Jesus, God or whomever on their death bed crack me up. Oh NOW you want to make sure you don't burn in the feiry depths. Are you KIDDING me? REALLY??? The born again mass murderers and pedos crack me up the most I think. Not a fucking chance. There's a special part of Hell just for you buddy. Period. End of. Fuck off. NEXT!!!
One Last Glimpse,
~K
And now for something completely different
I write poetry. Rather abstract, and even on one occasion it was described as "graphic" poetry. It comes in fits and starts. I've gone huge long periods where I've written nothing and then, out of nowhere it comes. I've RARELY (read: almost never) shared any of my poems. They're my own. They're private. They're mine. Only a handful have been read ever, and aside from doing one for English class in High school or something I've kept it that way. But that was for marks, so personally I really don't count that. I don't even know if my husband has ever read my stuff, although I can't fathom that he hasn't. I know he would but I don't know if he ever has. He has written me some lovely poems, but I don't know that I've ever written him any (that I have given to him). Interesting....
So now that I have let you into that part of my world a little and told you a secret. I will take it that one step farther and actually share a couple poems with you. I wrote these within the last 6 months or so. Posting these here dear reader I can tell you is about to send my anxiety off the charts. I'm not a person who is anxiety ridden, or prone to panic attacks and yet this has me a little on edge. But I'm trying to grow here as a person dammit...right??? Okay then! On we go!!!
Are you ready to see what I want to show you,
Twisted visions of distant night skies,
Vivid inspirations twist like smoke and vanish,
See them before they dissappear,
Catch the void before you fall,
Down below the world,
Inspirations of a dark cruel world,
Left vacant at your feet.
Lightening flashes in the night skies,
Forcing back your gaze.
Hollow voices heard in my brain,
Travel far upon the wind.
Echoed voyages from times gone by
Innocence lost, not won or gained.
Drifting idly by on a vanishing sunset
Beneath a deep skied haze.
Fields of flowers of love of pride
Seen in your beauty and soul
Void not won or music silenced
Forever wild and ranged
Angled deviants hang forever
Noises rattle past the street
Comulating in words not spoken
Violence must now retreat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Raise the world
My mind has done
The vapid vacant stare
World's come and gone
Swallowed up whole
Be gone vile and desolate dreams
Forced out by pristine decay.
Moans of hope, wails of truth
Float through heavy skies
Stars of past long burnt out wishes
Still shine in the night skies
Vibrant textures swirl past those eyes
Ones that have yet to know the truth
Rise up and fear no one
On the morrow and veinful day
Ask the past about tomorrow
Kiss the fleeting sun
Virtue begone betwixt and tethered
Aching to be shown the way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Don't ask me what either of these mean...I haven't the foggiest. Like I said they just come to me.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
So now that I have let you into that part of my world a little and told you a secret. I will take it that one step farther and actually share a couple poems with you. I wrote these within the last 6 months or so. Posting these here dear reader I can tell you is about to send my anxiety off the charts. I'm not a person who is anxiety ridden, or prone to panic attacks and yet this has me a little on edge. But I'm trying to grow here as a person dammit...right??? Okay then! On we go!!!
Are you ready to see what I want to show you,
Twisted visions of distant night skies,
Vivid inspirations twist like smoke and vanish,
See them before they dissappear,
Catch the void before you fall,
Down below the world,
Inspirations of a dark cruel world,
Left vacant at your feet.
Lightening flashes in the night skies,
Forcing back your gaze.
Hollow voices heard in my brain,
Travel far upon the wind.
Echoed voyages from times gone by
Innocence lost, not won or gained.
Drifting idly by on a vanishing sunset
Beneath a deep skied haze.
Fields of flowers of love of pride
Seen in your beauty and soul
Void not won or music silenced
Forever wild and ranged
Angled deviants hang forever
Noises rattle past the street
Comulating in words not spoken
Violence must now retreat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Raise the world
My mind has done
The vapid vacant stare
World's come and gone
Swallowed up whole
Be gone vile and desolate dreams
Forced out by pristine decay.
Moans of hope, wails of truth
Float through heavy skies
Stars of past long burnt out wishes
Still shine in the night skies
Vibrant textures swirl past those eyes
Ones that have yet to know the truth
Rise up and fear no one
On the morrow and veinful day
Ask the past about tomorrow
Kiss the fleeting sun
Virtue begone betwixt and tethered
Aching to be shown the way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Don't ask me what either of these mean...I haven't the foggiest. Like I said they just come to me.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
Friday, 24 June 2011
I want to change some things about myself...
I have something I need to confess to you dear reader. I'm not perfect, I have a few physical flaws. There. I've said it. Do you still love me? Good. Me too. There ARE a few things (physically) I can admit that I DO actually like about myself. It's few and far between mind you, but hey...at least I'm not saying I TOTALLY think I'm disgusting. I do have my attributes.
My eyes are stunning, they're gorgeous. I've been complimented so many times on them by friends, family and strangers...I've always loved my eye colour. I thought it was pretty. I know it may sound arrogant but...they're very striking. They're very pale and blue. I'm TOLD my Great Grandfather Aaron had the same colour eyes. I unfortunately don't know that for a fact as he had already passed by the time I came into the picture. In any event I love them...moving on.
My hair, it's frickin pretty cool too. Maybe not always the colour, or style...but I like the texture, the length, the fact that it's nice and thick with a little bit of a curl to it. In any event, as lame as that sounds...I love it.
My face isn't completely repulsive, I'm cute enough I suppose. Not STUNNING (although my loving husband would argue) but cute. I guess. Hey, bare with me...I'm TRYING here.
Then of course...there are the boobs. The boob fairy liked me so much she visited me twice...or three times. My boobs are legend....wait for it.....ary. Or epic boobage is epic as my hubby would say. They're nice, I'll admit it. And all natural. They've helped on a few occasions too. My good girls.
The last of things (physically) I'd like to change about myself are all realistic goals. I don't want a face lift, or a nose job or anything like that. I need to loose weight...a LOT of it. Probably I'd say about half of what I currently weight would likely be my "optimum weight" health wise. Why don't I just do it? Why don't I get off my ass, and do it? I've often asked myself this question. And I don't have an answer for it, other than I'm lazy I guess. I mean I don't LIKE looking like I do, and yet I'm not inclined to do anything about it. What kind of mental deficiency is that?
I'd love to have the bod of one of my closest friends. Bikini worthy. She's gorgeous to boot, so that of course doesn't help. But I've NEVER been there. Ever. I don't think I ever WILL be either, but you never know. I really need to get my ass up and get moving. One of my worst thoughts that I occasionally have when I catch a less than flattering glimpse at myself in the mirror when I've just stepped out of the shower is: what if my husband comes to me one day and says: 'I'm sorry you repulse me, I'm leaving'. Reality check time: Not going to happen, and I know that deep down but sometimes the thought scares the shit out of me. I have those moments you know? I'm at a point now where I think I'm ready, but the thought of failure scares me. Maybe that's what's holding me back. The thought of trying to do this and not succeeding, and disappointing people who are rooting for me, maybe that's what it is? I don't know. But I need to do something.
I can only think of two other things that bother me or that I dislike. One is that I wear glasses. I'm blind without them (not legally but it sure feels that way). I would like to get contacts at some point, however I don't want coloured contacts. I don't want to change my eye colour...in any way.
The second is my teeth. They suck. When I was a kid I had a big toothy grin. When I went to get braces around 12 or so they had to pull a few teeth. One was the last of my baby teeth that didn't have an adult tooth to replace it. Lovely genetics being all that they are, I took after my Mom's Mother. Lovely. Thanks for that. So once the braces were gone, right up front I had a lovely gap where a tooth should have been. They put in a fake tooth, perma-cemented to two other teeth and life was grand.
Until one day boys and girls I went to bite into an apple (yes, that's right an apple. How ironic that in fairy tales bad things ALWAYS come from apples...this story is no different). My tooth just snapped right out. Our kids at that point were very young, money was super tight and a trip to the dentist to have it cemented back in just wasn't in the financial cards. BUT, if I put it in and left it..it would sit there properly and I could carry on as if I was normal. Awesome right??? WRONG!
It was great until one day (I still don't know how) I managed to lose my tooth in the front yard. I gotta love Alan and give credit where credit is most certainly due. He spent HOURS on his hands and knees looking for it. He even went out and got a metal detector to look for it to no avail. It was gone. I still many years later haven't had it replaced. Another thing on my list to do. And I will. I just don't smile with my teeth anymore. At least not for now.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
My eyes are stunning, they're gorgeous. I've been complimented so many times on them by friends, family and strangers...I've always loved my eye colour. I thought it was pretty. I know it may sound arrogant but...they're very striking. They're very pale and blue. I'm TOLD my Great Grandfather Aaron had the same colour eyes. I unfortunately don't know that for a fact as he had already passed by the time I came into the picture. In any event I love them...moving on.
My hair, it's frickin pretty cool too. Maybe not always the colour, or style...but I like the texture, the length, the fact that it's nice and thick with a little bit of a curl to it. In any event, as lame as that sounds...I love it.
My face isn't completely repulsive, I'm cute enough I suppose. Not STUNNING (although my loving husband would argue) but cute. I guess. Hey, bare with me...I'm TRYING here.
Then of course...there are the boobs. The boob fairy liked me so much she visited me twice...or three times. My boobs are legend....wait for it.....ary. Or epic boobage is epic as my hubby would say. They're nice, I'll admit it. And all natural. They've helped on a few occasions too. My good girls.
The last of things (physically) I'd like to change about myself are all realistic goals. I don't want a face lift, or a nose job or anything like that. I need to loose weight...a LOT of it. Probably I'd say about half of what I currently weight would likely be my "optimum weight" health wise. Why don't I just do it? Why don't I get off my ass, and do it? I've often asked myself this question. And I don't have an answer for it, other than I'm lazy I guess. I mean I don't LIKE looking like I do, and yet I'm not inclined to do anything about it. What kind of mental deficiency is that?
I'd love to have the bod of one of my closest friends. Bikini worthy. She's gorgeous to boot, so that of course doesn't help. But I've NEVER been there. Ever. I don't think I ever WILL be either, but you never know. I really need to get my ass up and get moving. One of my worst thoughts that I occasionally have when I catch a less than flattering glimpse at myself in the mirror when I've just stepped out of the shower is: what if my husband comes to me one day and says: 'I'm sorry you repulse me, I'm leaving'. Reality check time: Not going to happen, and I know that deep down but sometimes the thought scares the shit out of me. I have those moments you know? I'm at a point now where I think I'm ready, but the thought of failure scares me. Maybe that's what's holding me back. The thought of trying to do this and not succeeding, and disappointing people who are rooting for me, maybe that's what it is? I don't know. But I need to do something.
I can only think of two other things that bother me or that I dislike. One is that I wear glasses. I'm blind without them (not legally but it sure feels that way). I would like to get contacts at some point, however I don't want coloured contacts. I don't want to change my eye colour...in any way.
The second is my teeth. They suck. When I was a kid I had a big toothy grin. When I went to get braces around 12 or so they had to pull a few teeth. One was the last of my baby teeth that didn't have an adult tooth to replace it. Lovely genetics being all that they are, I took after my Mom's Mother. Lovely. Thanks for that. So once the braces were gone, right up front I had a lovely gap where a tooth should have been. They put in a fake tooth, perma-cemented to two other teeth and life was grand.
Until one day boys and girls I went to bite into an apple (yes, that's right an apple. How ironic that in fairy tales bad things ALWAYS come from apples...this story is no different). My tooth just snapped right out. Our kids at that point were very young, money was super tight and a trip to the dentist to have it cemented back in just wasn't in the financial cards. BUT, if I put it in and left it..it would sit there properly and I could carry on as if I was normal. Awesome right??? WRONG!
It was great until one day (I still don't know how) I managed to lose my tooth in the front yard. I gotta love Alan and give credit where credit is most certainly due. He spent HOURS on his hands and knees looking for it. He even went out and got a metal detector to look for it to no avail. It was gone. I still many years later haven't had it replaced. Another thing on my list to do. And I will. I just don't smile with my teeth anymore. At least not for now.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
N.K.O.T.B.S.B.....baby
In about 1989 or so a new "boy band" appeared on the music scene. New Kids on The Block were "5 bad brothers from the Beantown land". They were young, squeaky clean and the young girls LOVED them. Who wouldn't? I liked them too, I'm not ashamed to admit. They were CERTAINLY no Duran, but they were enjoyable. My favorite was Jon (what IS it with me and guys named John???!!) who ironically; turns out; is gay (and so it goes...). Millions of girls willing to give it up for this guy and all he wants is the dick, go fig. Not the first time I had a crush on a gay guy, probably wasn't my last either.
My youngest sister in law and I have always had an amazing friendship and bond. We've always gotten on well, I think in part because from the get go when we first met (she was 5 and I was 17) I never once treated her like she was a kid or someone I was "saddled" with "having" to be nice to. Mar and I just "clicked" from the get go. Despite the age difference, we've always been very close. I'm very proud of her and love her very much.
2 years ago NKOTB reunited, one of our things in common that we shared (admittedly while she knows WHO Duran Duran are, and possibly a couple of their songs....she's too young to have been caught up in them), and on their reunion tour they decided to come here to my hometown. Mary phoned me up asking me if I wanted to go see them with her. I said yes, and we went. The concert was a blast. To experience that together was awesome, I had a great time. We also had one of her older sisters with us as well who had a great time too.
Then again, just recently the same sister in laws, 2 years later (plus one who couldn't come last time we went to the other concert). Only this time it was in Toronto and with the Backstreet Boys. We had a great bonding trip I think. The concert was fun, and was kind of exciting as the one sister who hadn't attended with us had never been to a concert ever. They really put on a great show and busted their asses to make sure everyone else enjoyed themselves as much as they did. I wasn't as psyched for this show as I had been for the first one, but glad I went none the less.
A friend of mine commented that I was anticipating ANOTHER concert that I'm hoping to attend later this year with her and said "Well I know what concert you're REALLY going to be excited for...just wait.". And she's right, I can't even THINK about that experience yet. I've waited almost 30 years for that moment, and I am anxiously anticipating it. I've tried to imagine how I'll react and behave when I finally see "them" but I don't know for sure that I can truly fathom that. Only a guess.
I loved experiencing NKOTBSB (baby) with my sisters. It was awesome. They're coming here in August to complete their tour (we somehow managed to score the LAST stop on the tour, not sure how my city managed THAT one). Would I go again? Maybe. I don't know...I think if I DID go though I would want to go just Mary and I. We'll see.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
My youngest sister in law and I have always had an amazing friendship and bond. We've always gotten on well, I think in part because from the get go when we first met (she was 5 and I was 17) I never once treated her like she was a kid or someone I was "saddled" with "having" to be nice to. Mar and I just "clicked" from the get go. Despite the age difference, we've always been very close. I'm very proud of her and love her very much.
2 years ago NKOTB reunited, one of our things in common that we shared (admittedly while she knows WHO Duran Duran are, and possibly a couple of their songs....she's too young to have been caught up in them), and on their reunion tour they decided to come here to my hometown. Mary phoned me up asking me if I wanted to go see them with her. I said yes, and we went. The concert was a blast. To experience that together was awesome, I had a great time. We also had one of her older sisters with us as well who had a great time too.
Then again, just recently the same sister in laws, 2 years later (plus one who couldn't come last time we went to the other concert). Only this time it was in Toronto and with the Backstreet Boys. We had a great bonding trip I think. The concert was fun, and was kind of exciting as the one sister who hadn't attended with us had never been to a concert ever. They really put on a great show and busted their asses to make sure everyone else enjoyed themselves as much as they did. I wasn't as psyched for this show as I had been for the first one, but glad I went none the less.
A friend of mine commented that I was anticipating ANOTHER concert that I'm hoping to attend later this year with her and said "Well I know what concert you're REALLY going to be excited for...just wait.". And she's right, I can't even THINK about that experience yet. I've waited almost 30 years for that moment, and I am anxiously anticipating it. I've tried to imagine how I'll react and behave when I finally see "them" but I don't know for sure that I can truly fathom that. Only a guess.
I loved experiencing NKOTBSB (baby) with my sisters. It was awesome. They're coming here in August to complete their tour (we somehow managed to score the LAST stop on the tour, not sure how my city managed THAT one). Would I go again? Maybe. I don't know...I think if I DID go though I would want to go just Mary and I. We'll see.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
Thursday, 23 June 2011
Play the fuckin bass K
When I was about 5, I started taking piano lessons. My sister already was, so honestly I figured it was just a matter of time before I started as well. But according to the story my Mom used to tell that wasn't the case. She insisted that the reason she put me in piano was because of the song "Could it be Magic" by Barry Manilow. According to her, one day I sat at the piano and began by ear to figure out the starting of that song. Which is actually Chopin's Prelude in C Minor. The song is built around that, it's a gorgeous piece (Could it be Magic) and it's still one of my favorites. She said that I showed promise and interest, and if I hadn't...she wouldn't have wasted the cash on putting me into lessons.
From the time I was 5, until about 15 or 16 I took piano every Friday night. Originally we started taking lessons from a guy in Sarnia, who's name escapes me at the moment. It ended up that he was American (if memory serves) and was deported for some reason but I don't recall why. Something to do with his work visa I think? I wish I could say it was something scandalous and shameful but alas I don't think it was. My Mom at that point had a friend who's father taught piano in the states but from Sarnia it was only another 15 minutes added onto the trip so we started taking piano lessons there. Professor Romeo Fracalanza and his wife Josephine. I LOVED the Fracalanza's. LOVED them. They were like another set of grandparents to us. While my sister was in having her lesson I would sit with my Mom and watch tv, or play games, or even learn Italian. It was awesome.She didn't do that for ANYONE else but us. Because my Mom was friends with their son, we were invited into their homes and lives and made to feel like a part of the family.
I wasn't the best student. I didn't like to practice, I just wanted to play. I wanted to learn more contemporary music but that's just not what Professor Fracalanza taught, he taught classical. Had I perhaps been more disciplined I would have sucked it up, been a better student and explored my kind of music on my own. But unfortunately I wasn't. I can still play, and have a piano in my home, the very same one we had in my Mother's home when I was a kid. But it just sits here, and sadly collects dust. I'll have it tuned and play eventually, but for now it's just a reminder of my past. A great one, some wonderful memories, but a reminder none the less.
In our elementary school you either went to a band school, or an orchestra school. I went to an orchestra school. My school taught strings, and from the get go I wanted to learn cello. Which surprised my Mother since I guess when I was 3 I told her I wanted to play the violin. (REALLY??? I don't care for the violin, I find it can be so screechy). In any event, our teacher: Mrs. Strachan had everyone say what instrument they wanted to play. Of course half the class wanted to play cello. So she showed people how to pick it up and hold it and sit with it. She tested everyone on the instrument and made her cello selections from there. MAYBE it was because she didn't like me, MAYBE it was because of my mutant little baby hands that I have I don't know. But I DIDN'T get selected to play cello, which kinda pissed me off. I ended up learning viola. Which was FAR better than violin as it was lower in it's tone, and had the same strings as bass. In the long run I much preferred playing viola so a good match was made there for sure. In grade 8 I switched public schools and found my class had NO (upright) bass players in it, but about 9 or 10 viola players. I approached my new teacher and offered to teach myself bass so that the class would have a bass player. Originally I was going to play bass in class, and perform viola with the orchestra when we would put on concerts. For whatever reason she decided that me playing bass was fine. Which of course tickled ME just fine. It was something I taught myself, and I was good at it. ASIDE from the fact that the neck on an upright bass is feckin HUGE and my fingers are, as previously stated, not. It was a challenge to be sure, but one I was willing to handle. Half way through grade 8 I switched back to my previous school and back to Mrs. Strachan. She was FURIOUS I had switched to bass, and while she said she would give me an "opportunity to show myself" in the end she really didn't, and she switched me back to viola.
Public school and high school also offered choral (choir) as an extra-curricular activity which I did readily and then in high school took vocal as one of my electives. I love to sing. I think (at times) I'm pretty okay at it, then there are others where I just completely tank. I guess that's pretty typical though.
In high school I would have loved to have played the bass, electric of course. I was completely la-luna over "you know who" at that point and wanted to be just like him. But of course they didn't offer it, so I settled for guitar. Rick Piche my guitar teacher, awesome teacher, great guy, unfortunately he was saddled with my friend Amber and I for students. I have never laughed so much in a class and gotten away with so much shit in my life. I'm surprised he didn't have a nervous break down by the end of that year. There were many days where he would just shake his head at the two of us from the front of the class. I think he gave up on both of us, and while we both passed the class, I'll never know how. So I can now play the guitar, and I have two beautiful classical guitars that my loving husband has bought for me. But again...not what I wanted.
I now finally, at the age of 40, thanks to my honey, (as I have previously mentioned) I have a GORGEOUS 4 string Peavey Cirrus BXP electric bass guitar. I LOVE it. But it wasn't until about 6 months ago that I FINALLY said the words out loud "I have always wanted to play bass guitar like John Taylor". I guess maybe I was ashamed some how? Ashamed I think that I was afraid that people would say "Oh you just want to play it because John does and you Looooove him." Well yes...that's true. But not. I mean yes, I...enjoy all that John's visual encompasses. He's a gorgeous man, stunning in point of fact. But the music, and the sound that he produces is what sets hair on end. Even now as I'm writing this I can hear Girls on Film in my head, and that bass line, that damnable bass line gets me EVERY. TIME. It's what got me hooked on this road to begin with. I am LOVING playing my bass. I have 3 songs (all Duran of course) that I can play, and will take lessons, and practice. But the fact that I have taken the step forward, and closer to my life long goal is substantial to me. I thank my husband for not laughing at me when I said I wanted to play. I should have known he never would have mocked me, but there's that nagging voice in the back of your head that always goes off ya know? No matter who it is. I love you.
I really should sign this off I suppose so perhaps I can "Play the fuckin bass K" before I go to work. #PTFBK!
One Last Glimpse,
~K
From the time I was 5, until about 15 or 16 I took piano every Friday night. Originally we started taking lessons from a guy in Sarnia, who's name escapes me at the moment. It ended up that he was American (if memory serves) and was deported for some reason but I don't recall why. Something to do with his work visa I think? I wish I could say it was something scandalous and shameful but alas I don't think it was. My Mom at that point had a friend who's father taught piano in the states but from Sarnia it was only another 15 minutes added onto the trip so we started taking piano lessons there. Professor Romeo Fracalanza and his wife Josephine. I LOVED the Fracalanza's. LOVED them. They were like another set of grandparents to us. While my sister was in having her lesson I would sit with my Mom and watch tv, or play games, or even learn Italian. It was awesome.She didn't do that for ANYONE else but us. Because my Mom was friends with their son, we were invited into their homes and lives and made to feel like a part of the family.
I wasn't the best student. I didn't like to practice, I just wanted to play. I wanted to learn more contemporary music but that's just not what Professor Fracalanza taught, he taught classical. Had I perhaps been more disciplined I would have sucked it up, been a better student and explored my kind of music on my own. But unfortunately I wasn't. I can still play, and have a piano in my home, the very same one we had in my Mother's home when I was a kid. But it just sits here, and sadly collects dust. I'll have it tuned and play eventually, but for now it's just a reminder of my past. A great one, some wonderful memories, but a reminder none the less.
In our elementary school you either went to a band school, or an orchestra school. I went to an orchestra school. My school taught strings, and from the get go I wanted to learn cello. Which surprised my Mother since I guess when I was 3 I told her I wanted to play the violin. (REALLY??? I don't care for the violin, I find it can be so screechy). In any event, our teacher: Mrs. Strachan had everyone say what instrument they wanted to play. Of course half the class wanted to play cello. So she showed people how to pick it up and hold it and sit with it. She tested everyone on the instrument and made her cello selections from there. MAYBE it was because she didn't like me, MAYBE it was because of my mutant little baby hands that I have I don't know. But I DIDN'T get selected to play cello, which kinda pissed me off. I ended up learning viola. Which was FAR better than violin as it was lower in it's tone, and had the same strings as bass. In the long run I much preferred playing viola so a good match was made there for sure. In grade 8 I switched public schools and found my class had NO (upright) bass players in it, but about 9 or 10 viola players. I approached my new teacher and offered to teach myself bass so that the class would have a bass player. Originally I was going to play bass in class, and perform viola with the orchestra when we would put on concerts. For whatever reason she decided that me playing bass was fine. Which of course tickled ME just fine. It was something I taught myself, and I was good at it. ASIDE from the fact that the neck on an upright bass is feckin HUGE and my fingers are, as previously stated, not. It was a challenge to be sure, but one I was willing to handle. Half way through grade 8 I switched back to my previous school and back to Mrs. Strachan. She was FURIOUS I had switched to bass, and while she said she would give me an "opportunity to show myself" in the end she really didn't, and she switched me back to viola.
Public school and high school also offered choral (choir) as an extra-curricular activity which I did readily and then in high school took vocal as one of my electives. I love to sing. I think (at times) I'm pretty okay at it, then there are others where I just completely tank. I guess that's pretty typical though.
In high school I would have loved to have played the bass, electric of course. I was completely la-luna over "you know who" at that point and wanted to be just like him. But of course they didn't offer it, so I settled for guitar. Rick Piche my guitar teacher, awesome teacher, great guy, unfortunately he was saddled with my friend Amber and I for students. I have never laughed so much in a class and gotten away with so much shit in my life. I'm surprised he didn't have a nervous break down by the end of that year. There were many days where he would just shake his head at the two of us from the front of the class. I think he gave up on both of us, and while we both passed the class, I'll never know how. So I can now play the guitar, and I have two beautiful classical guitars that my loving husband has bought for me. But again...not what I wanted.
I now finally, at the age of 40, thanks to my honey, (as I have previously mentioned) I have a GORGEOUS 4 string Peavey Cirrus BXP electric bass guitar. I LOVE it. But it wasn't until about 6 months ago that I FINALLY said the words out loud "I have always wanted to play bass guitar like John Taylor". I guess maybe I was ashamed some how? Ashamed I think that I was afraid that people would say "Oh you just want to play it because John does and you Looooove him." Well yes...that's true. But not. I mean yes, I...enjoy all that John's visual encompasses. He's a gorgeous man, stunning in point of fact. But the music, and the sound that he produces is what sets hair on end. Even now as I'm writing this I can hear Girls on Film in my head, and that bass line, that damnable bass line gets me EVERY. TIME. It's what got me hooked on this road to begin with. I am LOVING playing my bass. I have 3 songs (all Duran of course) that I can play, and will take lessons, and practice. But the fact that I have taken the step forward, and closer to my life long goal is substantial to me. I thank my husband for not laughing at me when I said I wanted to play. I should have known he never would have mocked me, but there's that nagging voice in the back of your head that always goes off ya know? No matter who it is. I love you.
I really should sign this off I suppose so perhaps I can "Play the fuckin bass K" before I go to work. #PTFBK!
One Last Glimpse,
~K
Mom, my anger issues and me
What would a blog be without one of those emotional posts that I really had to reach into myself to write. I think that's the point of this for me anyway. I want to express myself and see just how far I can push myself. Maybe while you're learning something new about me, I'm learning something new about me too. Creativity is a hell of a thing no? This is going to be one of those posts fair reader. I'm going to push myself here, it will be funny yes of course, but also an emotional post. An emotional post for you to read, and certainly one for me to write. Everyone got a kleenex or hanky handy? Good, then here we go.
The first memory I have of my mother I think I was probably about 2 or so. They're all jumbled together so I'm really not sure which came first. I remember my sister and I looking out at the dining table and it having lots of gifts for us from Puerto Rico where my parents had gone for holiday. I remember there being a little paper mache frog for each of us, and I know there was other stuff as well but that's the one thing I remember clearly. Don't ask me why I don't know. Mine was navy body with green spots and my sisters was yellow body with orange spots. I remember her telling us that we had to wait for our Dad to get up so that we could look at all of our gifts that they had brought us but we could have these little frogs. I also remember going to Toronto (Although I think I was little bit older, and someone forgot their room key. I was told to slip through our room (our door had the 'rape chain' on) and then go into the adjoining room (my grandparents room) and unlock the door. I did it, I don't remember how old I was, I just remember my Mom being very pleased with me for doing exactly as I was told and not getting distracted along the way. (ME??? NOooo!)
When I was about 5 my parents separated and divorced. For 2 summers (which also blend together) my sister and I were sent off to Toronto to stay with my cousin, Aunt (Mom's sister) and the Man she was married to at the time (While I called him "Uncle" at the time it's something I refuse to do now). I flat out hated it there. Every morning we were sent outside into the backyard, and we were not allowed back inside until evening. If and ONLY if we had to go to the bathroom were we allowed back inside and then ushered back out to the backyard where we had a card table, 2 chairs and an above ground pool. That's it. Sometimes paper and crayons...but that's about it. My Aunt would bring us our lunch out to us at the card table. I prayed for rainy days. Rainy days meant we could stay inside. I missed my Mom. I was very young, very confused, and VERY VERY unhappy. My cousin (older than we) was allowed to go out, and play with his friends. But because we were young, and we were in Toronto, my Aunt (supposedly) feared it unsafe for us. We did the touristy thing on occasion. CN Tower, Casa Loma, etc, but it seemed few and far between. It's funny in every picture though, and every slide I've ever seen of those two trips both my sister and I have smiles on our faces. I guess it was one of those Pavlovian responses. Camera comes out, you smile. I hated it. And by the end of the two summers, I began to hate my Mother for sending us away.
I grew up angry I think although I hid it VERY well. The first time I ever remember completely losing my shit was when I was about 13. I had loaned a tape to my sister. One side had Wham! - Make it Big on it, the other side I had recorded Duran Duran's first album (if memory serves - I know it was Duran I just don't recall which one). At that point it was the only copy of either that I had. My Mom worked a lot of 3-11 or 11pm-7am shifts and this was one of those nights. My Mom was at work, I had asked my sister for my tape back and she dragged her heels. I asked her for it back again, and she stomped into her room grabbed the tape, came out and started pulling reams of this tape out of the casing. I went completely mental. Full on frothing at the mouth mental. The events that happened next are not something I'm proud of but to be honest should have been a tell tale sign for my Mom to put me in some serious therapy. I remember I grabbed the tape out of my sisters hand, threw it on the floor, shoved her up against the wall with my left hand (I'm right handed) and LIFTED her off the floor by her throat about 5 or 6 inches and held her there. I remember she choked and her fingers came out and she tried to scratch and claw at my face. I remember screaming at her "ARE YOU GOING TO DO THAT AGAIN?" while her arms flailed wildly at me. I remember shoving her out the door and slamming the door in her face. That wouldn't be the last time I did something like that to my sister, and again it's not something I'm proud of. A learning experience to be sure in retrospect, but definitely not one of my finer moments.
The next time I went off on my sister I was about 15. I had been at my friends house, I had stuff in the washer that I needed to dry. So I came home for about a half hour to dry some clothes and to hang out. Our Mom was in hospital (part of her downward spiral in her health) in a completely different city, and I was staying at various friends houses while she was gone. I came home for only a half hour, but I am ashamed to say it was not a peaceful reunion between my sister and myself. I came in with two of my friends, put my clothes in the dryer, and stepped out on the balcony for a cigarette. My sister had a friend over for dinner and movie watching, and to honest we had NO interest in interfering however my sister felt that just by being there, even for a half our we were doing just that. I think I came back in from the balcony to check on my clothes when my sister asked me to have a 'chat' with her in the bathroom. I remember walking into the bathroom with her and for whatever reason it got ugly. Fast. The door was closed and the finger got pointed in my face. I don't remember exactly what was said between us, I just remember the out come. I went from 0 to about eleventy in .0005 seconds. The end result being me beating the hell out of my sister (again). Only this time I grabbed her by her hair (right at the front) and was slamming the back of her head against the CEMENT (we lived in a highrise) bathroom wall. I don't recall what I said as I was doing it. I just remember being VERY angry, and her CERTAINLY NOT deserving what I was dishing out. I don't remember how the rest of that played out, however I DO know she spoke to my mother and I was informed that if I EVER, EVER touched my sister again I would be charged with assault. I was an angry baby.
I don't remember how or why or what made me change. Maybe it was just something that came with age, maybe it was meeting the love of my life and the man I eventually married. I don't know. I can tell you I have never touched my sister again. I have had a couple issues since then, but not in many MANY years. It was like a light switch just turned off and I just stopped. Maybe it was because I had kids, I don't know. I'm just glad it's over with. I still have a temper LMAO that's not gone, I just don't want to fly into a rage anymore.
When my kids were very young (2 and about 6 months) I remember my Mom phoned me up one night just for her weekly chat. She had been to the doctor's that day for her yearly physical, he had told her that he was sending her for a mammogram has she had never had one before. I don't know how, or why but I remember I knew that they were going to find something. I remember I dropped the phone on the floor, and I refused to pick it back up. My husband picked the phone up and quizzically asked my Mom what was going on. She had no clue what the problem was as I didn't tell her. And to be 100% honest it wasn't until almost at the end of the road that I finally told her. It was like a wave washed over me and I without a doubt knew that not only were they going to find something, it wasn't going to end favorably. Sometimes I hate it when I'm right.
Fast forward about 4 years later. My Mother is now struggling with bowel cancer that stemmed from the breast cancer that they had found 4 years prior. The cells had broken away and traveled to her bowel and she was struggling to survive. I remember about 2 weeks before she passed was our son's 5th birthday. He wanted to see his Nana for his birthday and I called to tell her that we would be coming down and we would be bringing the kids up to see her. I remember her saying she didn't think that that was a great idea as unlike the chemo treatments before when her hair hadn't done much except become baby fine and curly, she warned that her hair had thinned considerably and she didn't think she could handle it if the kids were to freak out over her change in appearance. I managed to reassure her that that would not happen (although I honestly now can say I wasn't so sure at the time), and miraculously it didn't. The kids saw their Nana, not the fact that Nana was sick, she was just their Nana. That I think was the last time she coherently saw them before she passed away 2 weeks later.
I remember I didn't cry when she passed away. I don't think I even cried at the funeral. There were only two times I remember crying and I wouldn't even say I cried the first time. My friend and her husband had driven to Sarnia for the visitation, and I walked up to the casket (which was closed) with her. She became overwhelmed and began to sob. I felt badly for her, she'd known my Mom since I was about 9 or so and I remember my eyes brimmed...but nothing came out. I felt a little cold and callous because I didn't cry, but I remember my sister being so overwhelmed (and My Dad actually as well, which was odd since my parents divorced when I was 5) that I felt I had to keep it together I guess.
The first time I remember actually CRYING was because of a dream I had about a month after the funeral. I had this dream or portion of a dream that was perpetually every night on repeat. I remember getting ready to go to bed and I would pray to the Gods that I wouldn't have that dream. And every night I would wake up with a start silently sobbing my eyes out. I didn't want to wake anyone, including my husband, because I didn't know how to handle what I was feeling every time I woke up. It was beyond any sadness that I had ever felt up until that point. It was impossible to describe. I almost felt like I had been abandoned. I was angry. I was angry at my Mom for dying, I was angry at God for not saving her. And to be honest...he and I haven't spoken since. I just refuse to take his calls, even if he does call collect. (Dead Poets Society reference, if you haven't seen the movie...you're missing out). I still miss my Mom every day. I know she's proud of me though. I know she's proud of my kids. I know she's proud of my husband. And I know she's proud of Us as a family. And I am too.
On this coming Saturday I go for my first mammogram. I'm not filled with dread as I thought I would be. I'm anxious because I don't like pain...well not BAD pain. KIDDING. I just want to get it done and over with. The ONLY thing that sucks is I FINALLY manage to get a Saturday off where there's really nothing going on after my mammogram...and my husband works. Bollocks.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
The first memory I have of my mother I think I was probably about 2 or so. They're all jumbled together so I'm really not sure which came first. I remember my sister and I looking out at the dining table and it having lots of gifts for us from Puerto Rico where my parents had gone for holiday. I remember there being a little paper mache frog for each of us, and I know there was other stuff as well but that's the one thing I remember clearly. Don't ask me why I don't know. Mine was navy body with green spots and my sisters was yellow body with orange spots. I remember her telling us that we had to wait for our Dad to get up so that we could look at all of our gifts that they had brought us but we could have these little frogs. I also remember going to Toronto (Although I think I was little bit older, and someone forgot their room key. I was told to slip through our room (our door had the 'rape chain' on) and then go into the adjoining room (my grandparents room) and unlock the door. I did it, I don't remember how old I was, I just remember my Mom being very pleased with me for doing exactly as I was told and not getting distracted along the way. (ME??? NOooo!)
When I was about 5 my parents separated and divorced. For 2 summers (which also blend together) my sister and I were sent off to Toronto to stay with my cousin, Aunt (Mom's sister) and the Man she was married to at the time (While I called him "Uncle" at the time it's something I refuse to do now). I flat out hated it there. Every morning we were sent outside into the backyard, and we were not allowed back inside until evening. If and ONLY if we had to go to the bathroom were we allowed back inside and then ushered back out to the backyard where we had a card table, 2 chairs and an above ground pool. That's it. Sometimes paper and crayons...but that's about it. My Aunt would bring us our lunch out to us at the card table. I prayed for rainy days. Rainy days meant we could stay inside. I missed my Mom. I was very young, very confused, and VERY VERY unhappy. My cousin (older than we) was allowed to go out, and play with his friends. But because we were young, and we were in Toronto, my Aunt (supposedly) feared it unsafe for us. We did the touristy thing on occasion. CN Tower, Casa Loma, etc, but it seemed few and far between. It's funny in every picture though, and every slide I've ever seen of those two trips both my sister and I have smiles on our faces. I guess it was one of those Pavlovian responses. Camera comes out, you smile. I hated it. And by the end of the two summers, I began to hate my Mother for sending us away.
I grew up angry I think although I hid it VERY well. The first time I ever remember completely losing my shit was when I was about 13. I had loaned a tape to my sister. One side had Wham! - Make it Big on it, the other side I had recorded Duran Duran's first album (if memory serves - I know it was Duran I just don't recall which one). At that point it was the only copy of either that I had. My Mom worked a lot of 3-11 or 11pm-7am shifts and this was one of those nights. My Mom was at work, I had asked my sister for my tape back and she dragged her heels. I asked her for it back again, and she stomped into her room grabbed the tape, came out and started pulling reams of this tape out of the casing. I went completely mental. Full on frothing at the mouth mental. The events that happened next are not something I'm proud of but to be honest should have been a tell tale sign for my Mom to put me in some serious therapy. I remember I grabbed the tape out of my sisters hand, threw it on the floor, shoved her up against the wall with my left hand (I'm right handed) and LIFTED her off the floor by her throat about 5 or 6 inches and held her there. I remember she choked and her fingers came out and she tried to scratch and claw at my face. I remember screaming at her "ARE YOU GOING TO DO THAT AGAIN?" while her arms flailed wildly at me. I remember shoving her out the door and slamming the door in her face. That wouldn't be the last time I did something like that to my sister, and again it's not something I'm proud of. A learning experience to be sure in retrospect, but definitely not one of my finer moments.
The next time I went off on my sister I was about 15. I had been at my friends house, I had stuff in the washer that I needed to dry. So I came home for about a half hour to dry some clothes and to hang out. Our Mom was in hospital (part of her downward spiral in her health) in a completely different city, and I was staying at various friends houses while she was gone. I came home for only a half hour, but I am ashamed to say it was not a peaceful reunion between my sister and myself. I came in with two of my friends, put my clothes in the dryer, and stepped out on the balcony for a cigarette. My sister had a friend over for dinner and movie watching, and to honest we had NO interest in interfering however my sister felt that just by being there, even for a half our we were doing just that. I think I came back in from the balcony to check on my clothes when my sister asked me to have a 'chat' with her in the bathroom. I remember walking into the bathroom with her and for whatever reason it got ugly. Fast. The door was closed and the finger got pointed in my face. I don't remember exactly what was said between us, I just remember the out come. I went from 0 to about eleventy in .0005 seconds. The end result being me beating the hell out of my sister (again). Only this time I grabbed her by her hair (right at the front) and was slamming the back of her head against the CEMENT (we lived in a highrise) bathroom wall. I don't recall what I said as I was doing it. I just remember being VERY angry, and her CERTAINLY NOT deserving what I was dishing out. I don't remember how the rest of that played out, however I DO know she spoke to my mother and I was informed that if I EVER, EVER touched my sister again I would be charged with assault. I was an angry baby.
I don't remember how or why or what made me change. Maybe it was just something that came with age, maybe it was meeting the love of my life and the man I eventually married. I don't know. I can tell you I have never touched my sister again. I have had a couple issues since then, but not in many MANY years. It was like a light switch just turned off and I just stopped. Maybe it was because I had kids, I don't know. I'm just glad it's over with. I still have a temper LMAO that's not gone, I just don't want to fly into a rage anymore.
When my kids were very young (2 and about 6 months) I remember my Mom phoned me up one night just for her weekly chat. She had been to the doctor's that day for her yearly physical, he had told her that he was sending her for a mammogram has she had never had one before. I don't know how, or why but I remember I knew that they were going to find something. I remember I dropped the phone on the floor, and I refused to pick it back up. My husband picked the phone up and quizzically asked my Mom what was going on. She had no clue what the problem was as I didn't tell her. And to be 100% honest it wasn't until almost at the end of the road that I finally told her. It was like a wave washed over me and I without a doubt knew that not only were they going to find something, it wasn't going to end favorably. Sometimes I hate it when I'm right.
Fast forward about 4 years later. My Mother is now struggling with bowel cancer that stemmed from the breast cancer that they had found 4 years prior. The cells had broken away and traveled to her bowel and she was struggling to survive. I remember about 2 weeks before she passed was our son's 5th birthday. He wanted to see his Nana for his birthday and I called to tell her that we would be coming down and we would be bringing the kids up to see her. I remember her saying she didn't think that that was a great idea as unlike the chemo treatments before when her hair hadn't done much except become baby fine and curly, she warned that her hair had thinned considerably and she didn't think she could handle it if the kids were to freak out over her change in appearance. I managed to reassure her that that would not happen (although I honestly now can say I wasn't so sure at the time), and miraculously it didn't. The kids saw their Nana, not the fact that Nana was sick, she was just their Nana. That I think was the last time she coherently saw them before she passed away 2 weeks later.
I remember I didn't cry when she passed away. I don't think I even cried at the funeral. There were only two times I remember crying and I wouldn't even say I cried the first time. My friend and her husband had driven to Sarnia for the visitation, and I walked up to the casket (which was closed) with her. She became overwhelmed and began to sob. I felt badly for her, she'd known my Mom since I was about 9 or so and I remember my eyes brimmed...but nothing came out. I felt a little cold and callous because I didn't cry, but I remember my sister being so overwhelmed (and My Dad actually as well, which was odd since my parents divorced when I was 5) that I felt I had to keep it together I guess.
The first time I remember actually CRYING was because of a dream I had about a month after the funeral. I had this dream or portion of a dream that was perpetually every night on repeat. I remember getting ready to go to bed and I would pray to the Gods that I wouldn't have that dream. And every night I would wake up with a start silently sobbing my eyes out. I didn't want to wake anyone, including my husband, because I didn't know how to handle what I was feeling every time I woke up. It was beyond any sadness that I had ever felt up until that point. It was impossible to describe. I almost felt like I had been abandoned. I was angry. I was angry at my Mom for dying, I was angry at God for not saving her. And to be honest...he and I haven't spoken since. I just refuse to take his calls, even if he does call collect. (Dead Poets Society reference, if you haven't seen the movie...you're missing out). I still miss my Mom every day. I know she's proud of me though. I know she's proud of my kids. I know she's proud of my husband. And I know she's proud of Us as a family. And I am too.
On this coming Saturday I go for my first mammogram. I'm not filled with dread as I thought I would be. I'm anxious because I don't like pain...well not BAD pain. KIDDING. I just want to get it done and over with. The ONLY thing that sucks is I FINALLY manage to get a Saturday off where there's really nothing going on after my mammogram...and my husband works. Bollocks.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
Stupid people are stoopid mmm'kay???
I find the more I work in customer service the more often I find or am exposed to stupid people. And when I say stupid people, I mean those people who are so daft that they are truly "STOOPID". As in, please do the world a favor and never EVER breed. The sheer thought that some of these people could possibly breed is what keeps me awake at night or wakes me from a deep sleep screaming. Oh no wait, me waking up screaming is the thought of Andy Taylor ever coming back to Duran...sorry! (Oh come ON... you KNEW I had to mention them at SOME point!)
I had someone into work this evening who stood at the gas pump she was at with the nozzle in her car, with the grade chosen for a good 15 minutes before she squeezed the trigger to start the gas. Meanwhile here she is, flailing her arms, giving me dirty looks, wondering WHY the gas isn't filling her car and the numbers aren't climbing. THREE TIMES I went onto the PA system we have and told her she needed to squeeze the trigger and start pumping the gas. She. Just. Stood. There. And these people are driving cars, and breeding. REALLY?? I weep for the future.
As I said in my prior post, I've played online games. Exposure to stupid people there?? Surely not THERE! (that's dripping with sarcasm folks, just an FYI) Oh yes.. I'm sorry to say...even nestled in the blissful world of Azeroth or Norrath lie stupid people. They're cleverly disguised as a cute little gnome, or a night elf but oh yes...stoopid people are stoopid. I have had the misfortune of being guilded with a few as well. You know those people who just make your head shake. Allow me to tell you a little story. Alan and I a few years ago played a game called Everquest 2. We had a guild that was progressing not too badly, there were a few people within the guild who decided they could do better and decided to move on. Great, fine, dandy. Off with yourselves, don't let the guild hall door hit you on your pointy ears on the way out. There was one guy, who was not the sharpest tack in the box, not the tallest hobbit in the shire as it were who one night on the voice chat uttered this word that sent me into a fit of hysterical laughter with another friend of mine. That word that I use to this day was "Tremensly". He said it in the voice chat, and IMMEDIATELY my fingers flew on the keys to my friend Ryan and said "Cheriqui tells Drazick: 'Did he just say "tremensly" LMFAO!!!!!!111one' To which Ryan replied: "Drazick tells Cheriqui: 'I was just about to ask you the same thing! I can't believe he actually thought it was a word!!!!'. I weep for the future. These people are BREEDING. They live among us, they may look like us, but they're weakening our gene pool. I weep for the future.
I wish I could say I had a brilliant plan as to how to weed them out, but I don't. I just hope that the genetics doesn't go backwards and everyone becomes a drooling, blithering idiot.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
I had someone into work this evening who stood at the gas pump she was at with the nozzle in her car, with the grade chosen for a good 15 minutes before she squeezed the trigger to start the gas. Meanwhile here she is, flailing her arms, giving me dirty looks, wondering WHY the gas isn't filling her car and the numbers aren't climbing. THREE TIMES I went onto the PA system we have and told her she needed to squeeze the trigger and start pumping the gas. She. Just. Stood. There. And these people are driving cars, and breeding. REALLY?? I weep for the future.
As I said in my prior post, I've played online games. Exposure to stupid people there?? Surely not THERE! (that's dripping with sarcasm folks, just an FYI) Oh yes.. I'm sorry to say...even nestled in the blissful world of Azeroth or Norrath lie stupid people. They're cleverly disguised as a cute little gnome, or a night elf but oh yes...stoopid people are stoopid. I have had the misfortune of being guilded with a few as well. You know those people who just make your head shake. Allow me to tell you a little story. Alan and I a few years ago played a game called Everquest 2. We had a guild that was progressing not too badly, there were a few people within the guild who decided they could do better and decided to move on. Great, fine, dandy. Off with yourselves, don't let the guild hall door hit you on your pointy ears on the way out. There was one guy, who was not the sharpest tack in the box, not the tallest hobbit in the shire as it were who one night on the voice chat uttered this word that sent me into a fit of hysterical laughter with another friend of mine. That word that I use to this day was "Tremensly". He said it in the voice chat, and IMMEDIATELY my fingers flew on the keys to my friend Ryan and said "Cheriqui tells Drazick: 'Did he just say "tremensly" LMFAO!!!!!!111one' To which Ryan replied: "Drazick tells Cheriqui: 'I was just about to ask you the same thing! I can't believe he actually thought it was a word!!!!'. I weep for the future. These people are BREEDING. They live among us, they may look like us, but they're weakening our gene pool. I weep for the future.
I wish I could say I had a brilliant plan as to how to weed them out, but I don't. I just hope that the genetics doesn't go backwards and everyone becomes a drooling, blithering idiot.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
Capes and Horns
When I was a kid, one of my Mom's best friends lived in a small city called Orangeville not too far from Toronto. We would drive up there at least once a year to visit with my "Aunt" Pat and "Uncle" Wayne. (Ironically my inlaws names MANY years later, but I digress). I LOVED going up to my Aunt Pat and Uncle Wayne's house. They had 2 daughters, both younger than my sister and I, who we thought of as our own sisters. Or at least I know I did.
I remember when I was about 12 or so being told about the young french couple who lived across the street had their children brutally murdered by a boy who was not much older than I. He had been hired to babysit the children, took them to the park at the school. Somehow the ended up IN the school (I don't remember how exactly) and they were playing hide and go seek, he killed both children and then when it all went to court blamed the fact that it had been a quest he was on and that was the end game goal. (It had something to do with Pen and Paper Dungeons and Dragons). It was right around that time that it started to get a bad wrap. I had never played it of course, but I remember my Mom saying that I wasn't ever allowed to. Of COURSE the MOMENT she said that...I HAD to find out what the fuss was about. And thus my trip down the "Cape and Horns" (as my friends put it) road began.
I have played pen and paper Dungeons and Dragons. And while it's enjoyable, I much prefer playing a game on my computer. I have played an MMORPG (Massive Mutliplayer Online Role Playing Game) since 2001. I have played numerous of them. Yes, I'm one of those people who pretend online that they're an Elf, or a hobbit, or a troll, I slay dragons and orcs for treasure. I. am. a. geek. And quite proud of it. I'm not really playing one currently on a regular basis. I'm finding it hard between work, tweeting and surfing for pictures of Duran Duran to play anything. Not to mention the fact that I just have been not interested.
I have met some GREAT people via these games. And no not all of them are troglodytes who live in their mother's basements and eat paste. I'm sure there are some, and I've had the misfortune of 'meeting' a few of them over the last 10 years but they seem few and far between to be honest. Most of the people I have met have been great people. Some of which I have grown very attached to, some I have met in "real life", others I would love to and someday will but as of this point I have not.
I get teased for playing these games by some of my closest girlfriends, all in good fun of course. And of course I love them for it. I think it's one of those things you're either into...or your not. There's really no in between. It's something I enjoy doing to spend time with my husband. And likely will continue to do so until we decide we're not going to play any games anymore.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
I remember when I was about 12 or so being told about the young french couple who lived across the street had their children brutally murdered by a boy who was not much older than I. He had been hired to babysit the children, took them to the park at the school. Somehow the ended up IN the school (I don't remember how exactly) and they were playing hide and go seek, he killed both children and then when it all went to court blamed the fact that it had been a quest he was on and that was the end game goal. (It had something to do with Pen and Paper Dungeons and Dragons). It was right around that time that it started to get a bad wrap. I had never played it of course, but I remember my Mom saying that I wasn't ever allowed to. Of COURSE the MOMENT she said that...I HAD to find out what the fuss was about. And thus my trip down the "Cape and Horns" (as my friends put it) road began.
I have played pen and paper Dungeons and Dragons. And while it's enjoyable, I much prefer playing a game on my computer. I have played an MMORPG (Massive Mutliplayer Online Role Playing Game) since 2001. I have played numerous of them. Yes, I'm one of those people who pretend online that they're an Elf, or a hobbit, or a troll, I slay dragons and orcs for treasure. I. am. a. geek. And quite proud of it. I'm not really playing one currently on a regular basis. I'm finding it hard between work, tweeting and surfing for pictures of Duran Duran to play anything. Not to mention the fact that I just have been not interested.
I have met some GREAT people via these games. And no not all of them are troglodytes who live in their mother's basements and eat paste. I'm sure there are some, and I've had the misfortune of 'meeting' a few of them over the last 10 years but they seem few and far between to be honest. Most of the people I have met have been great people. Some of which I have grown very attached to, some I have met in "real life", others I would love to and someday will but as of this point I have not.
I get teased for playing these games by some of my closest girlfriends, all in good fun of course. And of course I love them for it. I think it's one of those things you're either into...or your not. There's really no in between. It's something I enjoy doing to spend time with my husband. And likely will continue to do so until we decide we're not going to play any games anymore.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
Wednesday, 22 June 2011
Random Duran ramblings..
I've talked a bit about my...affection for Duran Duran. Yes okay I currently have 2 full albums up on facebook of various pictures, and more than I'm collecting to put up and share. BUT I'm not obsessed, Okay I am, BUT I have not lost sight of reality. I KNOW the chances of me meeting them are quite slim, and the whole sex thing...NEVER going to happen. I'm happily married, and it's taken us a while to get to where we are. I'm not about to jeopardize it over....wait...I get one of those "lists" right??? I kid, I kid...mostly....I love you honey!!
ANYWAY my point is this...it's come to my attention reading some tweets and the walls on facebook (mostly Duran Duran's wall, as well as Roger Taylor's) that some of these people actually think, not only do they have a shot with a hook up or relationship with the guys, but I think some actually think that they already HAVE a relationship with the guys. And I don't mean fan/musician relationship, I'm talking full on, four alarm, morning suits and wedding gowns relationship. And that scares the SHIT out of me. I understand the whole fact that the guys get the juices flowing. Believe me, I get that. But to delude yourself into HONESTLY thinking you have some sort of...relationship with them outside of ya know...we're the fans...they're the musicians that we idolize? WOW. Goodbye Fanville, Hello Stalkertown! That's not to say that some of the fans haven't struck up friendships with the guys. I'm SURE there are some who have, to some degree or another.
I often wonder if John or Simon have had to block anyone yet on Twitter. The tweets that they must get are huge numbers I'm sure. But some of the things that I'VE read that has been tweeted to them, or about them...is kinda...well...disturbing. I know that a lot of celebrities have this in their lives, I know that. I guess I never really paid attention about it until now. I mean geez if this is the way it is now, when the guys are in their 50's...I don't even think I can or would WANT to fathom what it was like in their 20's. Sheer pandemonium. The whole thought of it makes me laugh actually. I'm SURE at times it was no laughing matter. I'm SURE that there were more than a few times that their lives could very well have been at risk. And I'm sure they've said "oh we're used to it". Really?? Is that something you should HAVE to get "used to"???
I also wonder if they've ever been sitting in SUV traveling along, reading their tweets and shared them with each other. I have to admit, it's exciting to get a response back from one of your idols. I've had a few, and each time I get a euphoric high. ALTHOUGH Yes...I WILL admit I went a LITTLE mental the first time it ever happened. (Quiet Patty...no comments from the peanut gallery). I was at work and I about lost my fuckin shit. Simon was tweeting away sitting in Houston airport, he tweeted something I didn't understand...so I RANDOMLY made a comment asking what the hell (whatever) he had said meant. And he replied. To me. I'm tellin ya, I about shit my pants right there at work. Yes...I Tweet at work. Don't judge me! LOL
My loving husband (THANKFULLY a Duranie, although not to the same degree as I -- I'd be concerned if he were), recently bought me an electric bass for my birthday. It's a LOVELY 4string Peavey Cirrus BXP bass, dark wood. Almost EXACTLY like one of the ones John Taylor currently plays (although his is lighter than mine). I LOVE it. I could sit for hours and play that thing. I love the sound it makes, I love the feel of it under my fingers, shit I even love the smell of the case. It's kind of got that "new case smell" to it. It's exciting. It's something I've wanted to do for...well almost 30 years. And now, thanks to the love of my life, it's a reality. I don't ever anticipate playing for anyone BUT myself, family or friends -- but it's nice to be able to FINALLY do that and express myself the way I have wanted to for 30 years.
OH and jumping back to the whole Twitter thing...What the hell is up with Cecil_LeBon?? Anyone? For a while I thought it was Simon, having a little bit of a laugh. Then I thought perhaps it was John or maybe even Nick, but now I'm starting to wonder. When I FIRST heard about him it was actually from a tweet that I saw from Simon to his daughter Amber. I honestly thought Cecil was his father, but as I understand it Mr. LeBon has been deceased for a few years now, so that made no sense. THEN when I clicked the link I realized that it was Cecil_LeBon....Simon's Boston terrier. That's one damn talented dog! So okay, I've run the gamut thinking it's a fan run thing, but there have been some statements...that have been a little....they've had TOO much knowledge of the goings on from the inside. I tend to think, or tend to WANT to think it's Simon just being Simon. But I guess we'll never know unless he flat out either confirms or denies it.
I guess I probably should get ready to go to work, I'm supposed to be there in about an hour and I'm still sitting here in my pajamas. Hardly something I could wear to work.
I realize that the long and the short of it is...for as long as there are musicians/actors/celebs in general there are going to be those fans who go completely coo coo for coco puffs for them. But do they have to be so completely messed up? It's kind of embarrassing to be completely honest. I mean really, they make us generally, relatively speaking 'normal' fans look bad.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
ANYWAY my point is this...it's come to my attention reading some tweets and the walls on facebook (mostly Duran Duran's wall, as well as Roger Taylor's) that some of these people actually think, not only do they have a shot with a hook up or relationship with the guys, but I think some actually think that they already HAVE a relationship with the guys. And I don't mean fan/musician relationship, I'm talking full on, four alarm, morning suits and wedding gowns relationship. And that scares the SHIT out of me. I understand the whole fact that the guys get the juices flowing. Believe me, I get that. But to delude yourself into HONESTLY thinking you have some sort of...relationship with them outside of ya know...we're the fans...they're the musicians that we idolize? WOW. Goodbye Fanville, Hello Stalkertown! That's not to say that some of the fans haven't struck up friendships with the guys. I'm SURE there are some who have, to some degree or another.
I often wonder if John or Simon have had to block anyone yet on Twitter. The tweets that they must get are huge numbers I'm sure. But some of the things that I'VE read that has been tweeted to them, or about them...is kinda...well...disturbing. I know that a lot of celebrities have this in their lives, I know that. I guess I never really paid attention about it until now. I mean geez if this is the way it is now, when the guys are in their 50's...I don't even think I can or would WANT to fathom what it was like in their 20's. Sheer pandemonium. The whole thought of it makes me laugh actually. I'm SURE at times it was no laughing matter. I'm SURE that there were more than a few times that their lives could very well have been at risk. And I'm sure they've said "oh we're used to it". Really?? Is that something you should HAVE to get "used to"???
I also wonder if they've ever been sitting in SUV traveling along, reading their tweets and shared them with each other. I have to admit, it's exciting to get a response back from one of your idols. I've had a few, and each time I get a euphoric high. ALTHOUGH Yes...I WILL admit I went a LITTLE mental the first time it ever happened. (Quiet Patty...no comments from the peanut gallery). I was at work and I about lost my fuckin shit. Simon was tweeting away sitting in Houston airport, he tweeted something I didn't understand...so I RANDOMLY made a comment asking what the hell (whatever) he had said meant. And he replied. To me. I'm tellin ya, I about shit my pants right there at work. Yes...I Tweet at work. Don't judge me! LOL
My loving husband (THANKFULLY a Duranie, although not to the same degree as I -- I'd be concerned if he were), recently bought me an electric bass for my birthday. It's a LOVELY 4string Peavey Cirrus BXP bass, dark wood. Almost EXACTLY like one of the ones John Taylor currently plays (although his is lighter than mine). I LOVE it. I could sit for hours and play that thing. I love the sound it makes, I love the feel of it under my fingers, shit I even love the smell of the case. It's kind of got that "new case smell" to it. It's exciting. It's something I've wanted to do for...well almost 30 years. And now, thanks to the love of my life, it's a reality. I don't ever anticipate playing for anyone BUT myself, family or friends -- but it's nice to be able to FINALLY do that and express myself the way I have wanted to for 30 years.
OH and jumping back to the whole Twitter thing...What the hell is up with Cecil_LeBon?? Anyone? For a while I thought it was Simon, having a little bit of a laugh. Then I thought perhaps it was John or maybe even Nick, but now I'm starting to wonder. When I FIRST heard about him it was actually from a tweet that I saw from Simon to his daughter Amber. I honestly thought Cecil was his father, but as I understand it Mr. LeBon has been deceased for a few years now, so that made no sense. THEN when I clicked the link I realized that it was Cecil_LeBon....Simon's Boston terrier. That's one damn talented dog! So okay, I've run the gamut thinking it's a fan run thing, but there have been some statements...that have been a little....they've had TOO much knowledge of the goings on from the inside. I tend to think, or tend to WANT to think it's Simon just being Simon. But I guess we'll never know unless he flat out either confirms or denies it.
I guess I probably should get ready to go to work, I'm supposed to be there in about an hour and I'm still sitting here in my pajamas. Hardly something I could wear to work.
I realize that the long and the short of it is...for as long as there are musicians/actors/celebs in general there are going to be those fans who go completely coo coo for coco puffs for them. But do they have to be so completely messed up? It's kind of embarrassing to be completely honest. I mean really, they make us generally, relatively speaking 'normal' fans look bad.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
Tuesday, 21 June 2011
I TOLD you I was a newbie!
I realized after I was reading what I had written that I never actually wrote about ME. I mean yes, okay I did...my family IS an extension of ME, it's part of who *I* am but not about ME. (NARCISSIST ALERT!)
I'm the youngest of 2 girls, my parents divorced by the time I was 5. My sister was one of my best friends growing up (and still is). ALTHOUGH at times we wanted to (and did) damn near kill each other, we're much closer now than we have ever were. I love her dearly, and wish that I saw her more than I do. It's pretty lame actually we only live about 45 minutes apart and yet months will go past before I see my sister. It's the same with my Dad though -- and pretty much the same exact distance as well. I'm not as close emotionally to my Father as I would have liked to have been or would like to be. Often there are times where I feel I cannot talk to him as I would like to. There have been issues or conversations that I have wanted to have with my father over the years that have not, and likely will never occur. This makes me sad of course, but over the years I have had to realize and come to accept it as part of the way things are and the dynamic of that relationship.
Sadly 15 years ago my Mother died of breast cancer. It is something that has plagued and feared me for the last 15 years of my life. I know I can't run from it, it's one of those things that either I'm going to get, or I'm not. I go for my first mammogram on this coming Saturday, and to be honest....I'm nervous but I'm not petrified like I thought I would be. The thing that REALLY has me concerned is the pain. LOL That's it. Not the fear that they're going to find something *cue ominous music here* because I KNOW they're not. Don't ask me HOW I know, I just...do. It's something that HAS to be done, and I'm willing to do it. Well not MYSELF, but I'm willing to HAVE it done.
I love music. All types. (Don't you HATE that answer? It's SO generic). I definitely have my favorite types of music. Pop...80's pop mostly. Ok...Duran Duran. *INSERT FANGIRL SQUEE HERE*. Yes, Duran Duran is my favorite band of all times. Ever. Period. Hands down. I DO have other favorites, but none can compare or surpass my boys. I don't have an answer as to WHY. They just have that...thing. Yes okay, they were (are) very....VERY...pretty. *drools a little* (mind your step, sorry bout that...that'll happen a lot when they're brought up...sorry...floatation devices are on the walls help yourself). I like OTHER music other than Duran, although my husband, and probably my kids would INSIST different. Hey...my car, my music. Deal.
But I do like other music. No, seriously! I was raised on the "Holy Jewish Trinity" (Manilow, Diamond, and Streisand), started piano lessons when I was 5, viola when I was in 7th grade which I took through high school, choir (from about grade 6 straight through), took guitar in 11th and 12th grade, and sometime during 8th grade taught myself upright bass. Which ties back into Duran Duran... when I first heard Duran Duran I think I decided at that moment, more than ANYTHING else...I HAD to learn how to play bass. Since electric bass wasn't taught at school (only upright) that was my only option. I tried to squelch the desire later by learning guitar, but to be honest...it didn't work. It was always there. It wasn't until I finally admitted to my husband (quite recently) that I had always wanted to play bass, that I actually got my musical heart's desire.
I am now, the VERY proud owner of an electric bass. "Rio" as she has been called is a lovely 4 string, Peavey Cirrus BXP bass. It is almost IDENTICAL to the one that John Taylor (my idol and of COURSE teen crush) plays currently, or one of the ones he plays currently.
I'm going to wrap this up quickly and come back to it later as I have tempted fate twice now (the power keeps going off). And I want to get this posted before it goes out a THIRD time and I quite possibly lose this entire thing. SO, there you have it. One MORE glimpse into that which is I, your humble host.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
I'm the youngest of 2 girls, my parents divorced by the time I was 5. My sister was one of my best friends growing up (and still is). ALTHOUGH at times we wanted to (and did) damn near kill each other, we're much closer now than we have ever were. I love her dearly, and wish that I saw her more than I do. It's pretty lame actually we only live about 45 minutes apart and yet months will go past before I see my sister. It's the same with my Dad though -- and pretty much the same exact distance as well. I'm not as close emotionally to my Father as I would have liked to have been or would like to be. Often there are times where I feel I cannot talk to him as I would like to. There have been issues or conversations that I have wanted to have with my father over the years that have not, and likely will never occur. This makes me sad of course, but over the years I have had to realize and come to accept it as part of the way things are and the dynamic of that relationship.
Sadly 15 years ago my Mother died of breast cancer. It is something that has plagued and feared me for the last 15 years of my life. I know I can't run from it, it's one of those things that either I'm going to get, or I'm not. I go for my first mammogram on this coming Saturday, and to be honest....I'm nervous but I'm not petrified like I thought I would be. The thing that REALLY has me concerned is the pain. LOL That's it. Not the fear that they're going to find something *cue ominous music here* because I KNOW they're not. Don't ask me HOW I know, I just...do. It's something that HAS to be done, and I'm willing to do it. Well not MYSELF, but I'm willing to HAVE it done.
I love music. All types. (Don't you HATE that answer? It's SO generic). I definitely have my favorite types of music. Pop...80's pop mostly. Ok...Duran Duran. *INSERT FANGIRL SQUEE HERE*. Yes, Duran Duran is my favorite band of all times. Ever. Period. Hands down. I DO have other favorites, but none can compare or surpass my boys. I don't have an answer as to WHY. They just have that...thing. Yes okay, they were (are) very....VERY...pretty. *drools a little* (mind your step, sorry bout that...that'll happen a lot when they're brought up...sorry...floatation devices are on the walls help yourself). I like OTHER music other than Duran, although my husband, and probably my kids would INSIST different. Hey...my car, my music. Deal.
But I do like other music. No, seriously! I was raised on the "Holy Jewish Trinity" (Manilow, Diamond, and Streisand), started piano lessons when I was 5, viola when I was in 7th grade which I took through high school, choir (from about grade 6 straight through), took guitar in 11th and 12th grade, and sometime during 8th grade taught myself upright bass. Which ties back into Duran Duran... when I first heard Duran Duran I think I decided at that moment, more than ANYTHING else...I HAD to learn how to play bass. Since electric bass wasn't taught at school (only upright) that was my only option. I tried to squelch the desire later by learning guitar, but to be honest...it didn't work. It was always there. It wasn't until I finally admitted to my husband (quite recently) that I had always wanted to play bass, that I actually got my musical heart's desire.
I am now, the VERY proud owner of an electric bass. "Rio" as she has been called is a lovely 4 string, Peavey Cirrus BXP bass. It is almost IDENTICAL to the one that John Taylor (my idol and of COURSE teen crush) plays currently, or one of the ones he plays currently.
I'm going to wrap this up quickly and come back to it later as I have tempted fate twice now (the power keeps going off). And I want to get this posted before it goes out a THIRD time and I quite possibly lose this entire thing. SO, there you have it. One MORE glimpse into that which is I, your humble host.
One Last Glimpse,
~K
Newbie Blogger Alert!
Hello lovelies!
I have debated blogging for a while. Of course I have the ever famous questions that run rampant in my head. What would I say? Would people even give a shit about what I write? Who would read it? The answer I guess really is -- it doesn't matter (to all 3 questions). LIKELY if you're here...you give a shit. Period. Doesn't matter really what I write or say, but the fact that you've taken interest in reading what I've written (which fair warning could may very well be complete drivel sometimes -- you have been duly warned) is good enough for me.
I probably should write a bit about me. Well, I'm married to my best friend and have been since 1989. We were high school sweethearts who married out of high school (awww!) and have 3 children. My hubby was in the military for 22 years (straight out of high school) and retired almost 2 years ago due to an injury he sustained while "in theatre". (Military jargin for 'on tour' -- and no 'on tour' doesn't mean like Duran Duran will be coming to an arena/theatre/stadium near you promoting their new album "All you need is now" insert shameless fan plug here! "on tour" or "in theatre" in the military means seeing combat...ie. Iraq, Afghanistan, etc). Now we are back in our home city, which I am loving. My best girl friends (whom I've also had since elementary/secondary school) still are here, and I am LOVING getting to hang out with them and be with their families that they have. It's a wonderful thing.
Our children:
Our eldest (22) our son, graduated with HONOURS from secondary school a few years ago. I am extremely proud of him. You see, our son he has Asperger's Syndrome. Asperger's is in the autism spectrum and while he is what they refer to as "high functioning" at times it has been extremely difficult. When he was 4 I remember sitting in a doctor's office (we had taken him for testing as he wasn't really speaking at the age of 4. Odd words here and there -- but not really sentences like he 'should' have been. I remember the "Doctor" (and I use that term loosely came into the office and promptly told me that my son was (in her words) "A retard". I promptly told HER that it would be best if she left the office before I stuffed her "PHD" up her ass. It's not always been an easy road with my son, but he's brilliant, talented, funny and I love him more than he will ever know.
Our eldest daughter (20) is a carbon cut out of her Father. And I mean that in the most sincere, honest and nicest way. She knows it. She looks like me, but personality wise...she is her father through and through. She is INSANELY talented in the arts. She's got a BEAUTIFUL singing voice, can play the violin (although she needs to practice), and can draw RINGS around many people. She's a talented "little shit" whom although I worried about her for a while (high school wise). I think she'll be okay. She's looking to go to school to become a chef in the fall. While my ass certainly doesn't need anymore food I'd love to taste test some of her future creations! I think she will be brilliant! Look out Jamie Oliver and Gordon Ramsay, someday you may be asking my daughter for tips!
Our youngest daughter (19) is unique. In actuality, and in all honesty she's not my daughter. Although I treat her as such, love her as such, unfortunately she is not mine, nor my husband's biologically. Up until almost 3 years ago I didn't know this girl at all. She was a friend of my eldest daughter at school who on fluke of random happenstance came home one day, due to issues in her own home, and has never left. And I am so very glad she didn't. We love her dearly, just as much as if we had hatched her in the cabbage patch ourselves. She is a brilliantly talented young woman who - if she so desired to be so, could be LITERALLY ANYTHING she wanted to be. She's struggled most of her life with various things, but I'm hoping someday soon the butterfly will emerge. It's coming - and her Father and I will be VERY proud of her the day that it finally does.
As for me? Well, if you're here...likely you already know me. Or THINK you know me. You may learn something, you may not. Who knows. I can't say how often I'll blog, or how often I won't. I guess you'll just have to stick around and find out.
One Last Glimpse,
~K xx
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