The profound and completely pointless.

I absolutely love it when a story demands to be written. There is something cathartic about characters who push themselves into your day to day activities and cease to be silent until to commit to telling their tale. They become family members so to speak. They invade your home, your mind, your every move. Bitches better learn how to do some dishes. For real!


They can be like ghosts, characters that live in your psyche. Oh, speaking of psyche, has everyone recovered from Random Scandal Wednesday? You think that was jarring, wait til next Wednesday.


Have I mentioned that my two favorite activities are Digression and Procrastination?


So this morning, as I was working on a story that I started a long time ago, another one pushed it's way to the forefront and I had to sit down and write it. I am really excited about this one, and I hope, should it see publication, that you will be as well. It's a little, how should I put it, different. But then again, you shouldn't expect anything less than the completely odd from me. That's just how I roll.


I also roll extremely random. Take for example the randomness of my disdain for the fact the my neighbor runs his lawn mower and plays loud music long into the night, even though he is nearly deaf and has yet to take the lawnmower out of the garage. Even now, it is pouring rain (yay!) and I can hear the motor whirring. Aside from the constant John Deere symphony, I love my street. My family is the youngest. Every house is inhabited by retirees. It makes for quiet evenings...most of the time. I like to sit outside sometimes, and think about all of the life that has taken place here, all of the history.


Normally, at this time of year, I tend to look forward to the individual holidays. I adore Halloween and Thanksgiving is my time to shine. Not only do I roast a mean turkey, but given the chance, I could eat the whole thing by myself! And Christmas? OMG! Love it! This year, however, I find myself wanting a straight shot to December. <3 Wonder why?


So back to writing. Before I go, I would like to entreat upon you poor souls a little info about moi. I find that the best way to really get into a writers work is to know things about them. It makes the story feel more personal to me. Weird, I know, but that's what you signed on for when you clicked the content agreement.


Factoid: I love Opera. I know it's cliche, but I do. Operas are like romance novels, only in musical form. They have so much life and passion. I love the classics. Carmen, La Traviata, La Boheme. My favorite piece from ANY Opera, however, is O Mio Babbino Caro, from Gianni Schicchi by Puccini. Its a simple song about a girl who wants to get her beloved father a ring, but it sounds so much more profound, so dismal and deep. And though there are many sopranos that do exquisite justice to the aria, none can move the soul like Maris Callas. This is my favorite clip of her performing because she was extremely ill during this performance. She died shortly afterwards. It kind of lends a bit more meaning to it.


So I shall leave you with 2 minutes of bliss and my love and admiration for you and your love and support.


MUAH!