These egg shakers at Musician’s Friends look so fun and will help with some added percussion to any type of music. It has always amazed me watching classic musicians playing, like Fleetwood Mac and seeing shakers or a tambourine and thinking “that can’t possibly do anything” and yet, when you listen to the beat and the hum of the music you can feel these small instruments and you know the music just wouldn’t be the same without them! I have enjoyed many videos of people starting music online using shakers because it fills in some noise without stealing from their voices or the acoustics of their guitars. Definitely a fun gift for your favorite musician!!
So excited to announce that guitar center atlanta is a new location is Alpharetta, Ga which is an awesome looking location with classes offered and all sorts of instruments and gear available! Opened seven days a week and offering lessons of different types each weekday is such great! With Christmas quickly approaching (EEK!) giving the gift of an instrument and/or lessons to an aspiring musician would make an amazing present!!
I never knew that I could or would learn to be ashamed of my nakedness again, looking at my body and feeling like it should be hidden under layers of shapeless clothes, covering the saggy-breasts and stretch marks caused by having babies, the extra weight and even cellulite on my bum and hips becoming something that make me hate the mirror all while I am supposed to sit there and look into that same piece of glass and tell myself I am beautiful and loved, when a month ago I felt beautiful, I felt loved, and now I can barely look myself in the eyes without seeing the ugliness that everyone else must see when they look at me.
I wash my face and brush my teeth and when I lock eyes with my own tears well up and trickle down my cheeks, leaving a salted surface that feels like it’s eating away the very flesh that no one should be seeing anyway.
I am ugly.
I’ve never thought those three words before. I have thought I am fat. I need to lose weight. I have health issues. I have stretch marks or what I once called lines of love since they were formed while I was growing a child inside of me with months of bed rest keeping my weight out of control.
Yet today, and right now, I want to cover the mirrors in a shroud of black. I don’t want to see my reflection, or to be seen by anyone at all. I want to tape over my webcam just in case it accidentally gets turned on so that no one can be disgusted by the “what” that I have become. I toss on clothes despite being uncomfortably hot while covered in layers of thick blankets that already hide my body, just so I don’t have to see myself.
Like my ugliness is so appalling I shouldn’t even glance with my own eyes.
A month ago I was supposed to go in and get my annual check up and asked the nurse if my doctor could do it because he knows my scars and wounds and I don’t want anyone else to see them, now I won’t be making the appointment at all because I don’t want to disgust him with my nakedness, having to touch me through latex-free gloves and swab samples from the parts that are hidden away that most definitely shouldn’t be seen.
Last night I wore a long shapeless tunic with sleeves that met my hands and a skirt that met my ankles and I felt disgusting and exposed because I was wearing flip flops instead of something that would have covered me completely, like a pair of boots.
And yet, I am supposed to believe I am beautiful and all I want to do is hide.
Words cut deeper than any razor, knife or scalpel ever could. My confidence went from healthy to non-existent but it’s not anyone’s fault but my own because I am emotional and twist the words so they hurt instead of taking them to mean whatever they are “supposed” to.
I actually thought today that I should put on some makeup, not to feel pretty or playful, but to hide the disgusting skin I am in. Instead I stayed in bed all day because no one would want to see me anyway.
Because, I am ugly.
Dust in the Snow –October 11 006 –Marisa Slusarcyk
Overthinking all that should be forgot
Took my blood without a second thought
You lied, I cried
Only wish one had died
The pain inside is obvious to see
Branded into her blood ridden lines of three
Push through the window braking hard to stop
I see you, I feel you
And as I come to a slow
Like dust in the snow
Forever it feels you’ll bounce in my head
Get out of me, get out now
You’ve played enough games
Please take your final bow
My heart is broken
But for you it does not mourn
The scars on the outside match those on thee in
The life I have led
Because of you
Is buried in sin
One day you will pay as I do now
God is the forgiving type
But for you I don’t see how
In hell you will burn to ashes each day
Like dust in the snow
Shattered and shaking I couldn’t get the figurative yet really real feel of the steal out of my hands enough, with broken hearts and eyes that couldn’t barricade the tears I tossed them back to their owners knowing it wasn’t who I was to control a lock, to control anything at all.
The uneasy fear of being responsible quickly replaced by the instant regrets screaming inside my head “what have you done?” while simultaneously being happy to be free from the responsibility of it all. My heart crying tears from failing and my soul locking itself away behind imaginary bars that keep me contained and locked away from everything that hurts…
Unfortunately, the pain still slithers on through the bars though, it reaches in and spills my guts out of my abdomen and then forces me to clean up the bloody mess I am making as I struggle with my insides on the outside, killing me.
I realize that maybe I am not ready for any of this, any rules, guidance, and most importantly love.
I push love away like I would toss a hot potato or scream against the heat of a brand before it ever touched my flesh. Love hurts, there are like 20 billion songs written all about heart ache, heart break and trying to pick up the pieces of the aftermath, so I push it away because it can consume me whole.
10 years now since my baby died while fluttering inside of my undeserving womb. My only memory is a dot with a flashing light on the ultrasound screen. A dot with a heart that would know only love as she was born into the hands of God…
Leaving me to ache and suffer and cry and beg to die and wait for a release that I doubt will ever come. Locking myself away and refusing to feel because feeling leads to pain and from pain I no longer know how to heal… and I don’t believe I deserve to even if I did.
No, I deserved the whips and the chains and the muffled cries. The degradation that hurt me beyond any words could say. I deserve the triggers and the nightmares and the physical pain.
Love, joy, happiness, all things I can witness but never fully experience, because God created me to suffer, knowing full well that I would be passed to Satans hands just like the ones tested in the bible were.
My life doesn’t get a place in a book that will be forever remembered, or remembered at all, and I am okay with that…
I just need to stop fucking up my own life long enough to barely impact others.
We’re the nobodies
Wanna be somebodies
We know just who we are