Mar 242016

Musicians friend has the aubert violin bridge available which is absolutely beautiful! Musicians friend describes this as “Made in France. The Aubert Adjustable Violin Bridge features moveable feet which conform automatically to changes in the top curvature, achieving a precise fit without carving the feet.”

I think if you have someone who plays the violin that this would be an extra special and very thoughtful gift! Defnitely check out Musicians Friend and ALL of their violin’s and accessories!!


 Posted by at 8:39 PM
Dec 162015

Why doesn’t anyone reach out to me and tell me how it is? Why do I have a permanent residence in the back ground of humanity with no one looking on, checking in, asking how I feel?

To them I am dead already, and a huge part of me –the part that used to need the slice of the blade to feel alive, knows I am already gone and the blade no longer cries out to me because even the droplets of crimson are no longer felt.

I quit cutting because Jon told me to. Demanded I do –or else.

Now, I tell myself that’s why I don’t cut, but the truth that I hold so deep is that I am scared of not feeling. That no blood will be there to fall. That I am already gone and don’t feel because that’s something the dead don’t do. And if I make it hurt, if I start again, what if I am alive and I can’t stop? What if I can’t go back?

Perhaps I am simply an addict in recovery –not that that is any simpler, but it makes more sense than being kidnapped by Jesus, dominated by man and abused by the lowliest kind.

This is not here. I am not sure where here is or how I will know if my hands have bones or if the shackles I can’t see are what paralyzes me into place.

I am sobbing and I am sorry.

It’s been just over 9 years since I signed that paper and let killers taker her life. 9 Years since I pulled the trigger and the unborn, my unborn died.

One thing I know about me is that I have no clue who I am or what I want.

I am an enigma wrapped in an illusion and I am trapped in this realm, in love with my own delusion.

A place where I am far from safe.
That lacks an escape.
Where nothing else matters because life is ours and it can’t hurt any worse.

Dec 072015

download (2)My brother plays guitar, I have a guitar and so do both of my children. One thing that always comes in handy is new strings. Lets face it, they break, they can stretch out and they simply need replaced once in awhile. So since my brother was very young we have always put new strings in his stocking for Christmas, knowing he would use them. Morrell Music has a great selection of strings over on Musicians Friend. If someone you know plays any instrument that requires strings then I strongly suggest getting them for the stocking!! Nothing better than getting something you will use as a gift!!

 Posted by at 3:25 PM
Sep 272015

Maybe I never knew who you were, the depths of your soul like you did mine. I bet you could run your finger over any part of my body and know it intimately without even taking a look. You could press my buttons and make me pant with desire and beg in frustration all at once. Yet my hands fumble down you, touching your face moving slowly down your neck and chest, caressing you as I explore, taking you all in, hesitating before grasping you –waiting for permission to hold you, take you in. My thoughts on pleasing you and wondering if I am gripping you tight enough. If the moans that escape your lips are frustration or pleasure. Who are you? What is your carnal being? Hands in my hair, attached, unable to escape, not that I want to, yet I pull to test the limits, I pull to see how strong you are and I know you won’t let go. I want to know you. The way you know me. Some say love shouldn’t be this hard. Loving you is easy. Being let in is where I stumble and fall.

 Posted by at 12:28 AM
Sep 262015

I put my hair in a french braid this morning, it’s grown to the small of my back. You wanted to grow it as long as possible. You liked the natural color because coloring it damages it. As I braided for what seemed like forever I wondered to myself if I would cut my hair now or continue to grow it. I feel so completely yours, and yet deep down I know I am not. How do you move from TPE to doing it on your own? You decided everything from bedtime to wake up time, and even naps, whether i took Tylenol or Advil for a headache and so much more… It feels like you died. Though you still said good morning to me, after I said it to you, maybe because of habit, maybe because I am doing what I have been trained to do. Maybe because I have hope. Hope for what? I don’t know. You apologized to me, for breaking me, stating it was not your intention. I know it wasn’t, but that doesn’t pick up the jagged chard’s that I have become. I also know I brought this upon myself, which hurts even more. I said I can’t keep waiting for you to be ready. I can’t keep putting life off for a one day maybe. Yet now, it seems empty to even live. I don’t know if those are words I would take back. I don’t think I regret them. I do regret feeling free though. Reminds me of Aladdin when the Genie is finally freed and the cuffs magically fall to the floor. Only, instead of feeling exuberant I want to bend down and grasp them, place them back on, lay at your feet and refuse to let go.
I need to crawl into your bed and kiss you from head to toe. I need you to ravish me, and make me yours. Yet the dreams are just that, dreams, and the reality is that this is simply another death to mourn, another loss to grieve. A whiteout that I can’t see through.
I knew long distance never works. I walked into this knowing the pain that would come at the end. What I didn’t know was that I would lay down my life for someone so far away. That I could so easily give my life to you and know that it was okay.
I played piano late into the night. Tears streaming down my face. Notes fumbled and completely missed. Moonlight Sonata no longer flowing from me the way it did years ago.
I wish I could hate you. But somehow, I love you more…

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