I want to be left alone, to my thoughts, to my melancholy and to my finding out what the hell I am doing. That doesn’t mean social interaction, but to my judges. Trying to go out day to day, and having to answer questions on why I’m not as talkative. Or why I just want to sit alone on coffee breaks, flowers surrounding me, quiet and beautiful. My work once said that I may be taking too much time off, but when I’m there, feeling this way, I get stares. There is a mold you have to fit to do my job, and when your not feeling the “bubbly” vibe, people notice.

I’m getting tired of the rollercoaster. The constant analyzing of my life. Worse part is, I did it to myself. Perhaps it would be easier to go back, make my amends and end this blog. End Kate as we see her on these pages. I haven’t eaten properly in three months, the same goes for sleep. I have found out some things about myself that I thought were forgotten, hidden away. I really like who I am becoming, and enjoy dusting off the parts that have been struggling to be free. But it’s hurting too many people. My friends look at me differently, wanting to know where I am headed. How can I tell them, when I’m not sure myself.

Six months ago I was quite an angry person, hurt by the slightest thing (a habit I’m still trying to break) and defensive…always. I had some people in my life going through some rough spots and I was proud to be there for them. My home, their home, my time was theirs. That gave me a distraction, for the time being. Now I am left to fend off…myself. Knowing I can’t go back, it would kill me. But is it selfish? Am I willing to lose all I have worked on, all that I thought I wanted. My biggest worry in this world is that the answer is yes, and always has been yes.

How can I say to my family, “Just let me go, let me find what I need to find”.

Well the last blog had a bit of a insane rambling mood to it. I had a choice of taking it down, unsure of how I felt letting sit there…an afternoon of inspiration gone array? But then again, sensor the blog and you end up losing the point of it.

I had the girls together today. A day of being totally lackadaisical. A good day. Sitting on the bed, stretched out on the African red blanket, the four of us mulling over the meaning of life and which one of us is the most argumentative.

We have all heard each other’s stories before, but yet we listen each time like it’s our first. Laughing and recalling it as if it was your own memory. My soul mate made a comment today, that my studio floor inspired her the day before. As she lay there, writing sweet nothings to her twin. Bean asked my soul mate if she could see auras? Does she have a sixth sense? My soul mate replied, “No I just like lying on the floor, stoned”. She had spent the day writing such beautiful things picked out of nowhere, talks of pirate ships and feeling like a towel under apple pie….. I think it was hearing this that inspired me to write in a more…artsy description. I laugh when I read it, not sure if its my style. But you have to try it all.

A beautiful end to the day, the sun setting as we are sitting around the secret secret spot.

There is quite a steep little hill to walk down to get to the waterfall. It's filled with fallen rock and very loose gravel. As Bean and I were taking our time, finding stationary rocks to help us, we heard, "You just have to know where to put your feet!". This was spoken by my heterosexual life partner, giving us her wisdom with a bit of sass.

All I see next is her running down the hill. I'm thinking to myself, "how impressive". But the bottom came, she did not stop. Then the trees came, still not stopping. Then the hill leading towards sharp rocks and water, she finally did stop, almost in the water and on her ass. I don't think I have laughed (after she gave us the thumbs up) so hard in quite a while.

I feel lucky to have friends that you can share a day like this with. Doing nothing but wanting to be nowhere else in this world but with them.

Sitting with my soul mate, enjoying our calm we seemed to have created today. No outside forces necessary, but also won’t be refused. Talking of twins and trees with interwoven branches leading up the bare flesh. And of the prairies and the storm that’s rolling in, making one nervous and one, most comfortable. Embracing our child-like minds and trying to figure out why we enjoy horrible things in this world. Maybe that’s the whole point of being child-like, the innocence of the mind, absorbing all, evil and “shiny”.

A weight on my shoulders though, not so relaxed anymore.

“I’ve often thought that it’s the basic anonymity of the net that allows us to be so frank and open without risking ourselves. The test often comes when we throw off the cloak of anonymity and start interacting in a more traditional sense. Can we maintain the same level of intimacy, dare we reveal as much now we can look into the eyes of the other person and read the approval or rejection that’s written.”

“Editing is not a luxury afforded to those who meet face to face.”

-smartass brit

These words speak the rawest of truth, when dealing with the internet. We forget that in the cold hard light of day, your words become second. I had forgotten that. I have been reminded.

It is easy to lose oneself to this world, soaking in attention, trying to not make it the focus. The high of it all, a dangerous thing to play with. So you make it more, a search for a few beautiful souls to learn from, whatever they may teach you. The attention whore has left the building. Waiting for the battleing of wits, a challenge or two from those up to it. An attempt to bring the tangible into your waking sleep. Few have accomplished this, and only one has seen the real “Kate”.

He knew my weakness, this man, intelligence and a beautiful soul. A friendship from the start, a neurotic playing field where anything goes. A room, dark with only a faint bluish light coming from the table. Two naked children sitting around it in uncomfortable wooden chairs, but calmly looking at one another, not able to see each other. The only connection is words, innocent…not thinking of the consequences letting another know the barest of your being.

Although it feels good to not hide the “worst” of your neurotic personality, it makes you wonder how you get yourself to feel “safe’ again. The friendship grew, quite quickly, a trip planned, never any expectations. A high level of comfort from him, a smile to my face on those rough days, so many laughs and a feeling of becoming important in his life. Never any more, never any less.

As with most opposite sex relationships, and due to not actually knowing the person, flirting was present. A kind, make you feel good about yourself, flirt. My type was and is not the usual for him; I never expected it to be. This was not built on that expectation.

But words are dangerous things. And they became more charged and intimate. An intimacy I was comfortable to share with this dear friend. I suspected that he was familiar and good at making women feel special, so I tried not to take things seriously. Laughing and smiling and saying “you charmer”. But the idea was planted, harmless words that made you wonder if something had changed. A game beginning that was fun but you could feel the prickles on the back of the neck…a warning. Too many sweet nothings and too much time spent between lying in bed and when sleep overpowers your senses. I admit, I got caught up. Wondering, just wondering. But then the “average” guy appeared and took back all the beautiful things…leaving you with your eyebrows furrowed and a “but….” , on your lips.

I am a chameleon; I can change myself at a moments notice. When you’re under threat of feeling stupid for your thoughts, you change… BAM. Protect yourself at any cost. I found this hard with my dear friend. Respect, no games, ever. I asked him to explain, to tell me if I’m seeing what he is saying incorrectly. Something I tend to do. Back and forth we went, me asking, him dodging. What is that supposed to be? The children at the table grabbing blankets, covering themselves, one shamed the other….?

I got the hint, who was I kidding! Really, the whole thing way too dramatic, and for what? I changed back, feeling silly for entertaining thoughts, feeling bad because I was always aware of the present situation. But wait, I never started this. I was always the confidant, never asking for more or hoping for it. I may have had my own thoughts or feelings but would never expose them. And left it up to…I don’t know, just left it.

Today a good conversation getting back to our roots. A calm settling in, my dear friend back. The flirting left to a “fate” outcome for him, for me I know. “In the end it’s all nice”. One only has to know the context of that statement to realize that it isn’t a Disney ending.

The children started to share once again, comfortable in their wooden chairs the blankets falling around their shoulders…seeing one another, at last. A soul mate protecting me sneaks in to whisper to the little boy, I can’t make out what they are saying. I decide I don’t need to know, I let my blanket fall farther. Him and I alike in many different ways, feeling like I can’t hide nor do I want to. Feeling good. Still have some wonder but completely satisfied.

The next thing I knew, my soul mate whispered in my ear and looked towards the boy. The little girl grabbed her blanket and ran from the room. The only thing she knew how to do. The sun calling her outside, clear her mind, get away. The embarrassment settling in.

“What do I expect, my dear friend?” Not to have you treat me this way. I don’t play games and I take your lead. My blanket is up, only my eyes showing, wondering how in hell I gave you that impression in a 10 min conversation about a kiss. One that involved “she and he”, not “you and I”. You talk about confusion? Seriously?

I may have played around with ideas, but never have I put them out there…in the open. But yet I feel he was able to grab them and twist them away not giving me the choice of hiding them. Too exposed and with someone not being too careful. This is not what I want to learn from my dear friend.

Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
I Hurt myself again today
And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Ouch I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,
Yeah I think that I might break
Lost myself again and I feel unsafe

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Sia

I reside in the bible belt of BC. Now don’t jump to conclusions….I’m as evil as they come, evil with a “shiny” halo.
I’m not a regular “chick”, I don’t run to Sandra Bullock movies, I don’t believe in changing a man for the “better”, I dislike chick flicks (for the most part) and I believe in ripping Cosmo to shreds and using it for toilet paper.
I do tear up at some movies or music….if I feel passionate about it…it’s waterworks time.
I wear my heart on my sleeve unless I feel threatened, then I close up.
I long to have someone understand, and I long to laugh.
I want to spend my life learning….everything.
I have road issues and a trucker’s mouth.
I do fall into the trap of being too dramatic sometimes…and secretly enjoy it.
I get turned on driving fast to James Bond music.
Ditto on watching a storm rolling in…the times I miss the prairies.
I live in my imagination, a good and bad thing.
I neither want nor need another person to take care of me.
I get hurt easily, but would rather stick toothpicks under my nails then let others know.
Pride and Prejudice, that’s my girly movie.
I cry when I’m frustrated but laugh when I’m in pain.
I’m always thinking, can’t seem to turn it off.
My friends are my family and I would do anything for them.
When I think I can’t keep going….I get strength that surprises even me.
My dirty little secret? I enjoy people breaking into a lip-synch to music in movies…it’s what I do at home.
I’ve read the great Charles Dickens and I find him a bore.
I secretly love romance but still want to be one of the guys.
I car dance. That's right car.
I look for beautiful souls in life.
Photography scares me, am I good enough?
I know the meaning of quidditch.
“I’d rather die for love, then die for the want of it” Sam Roberts
I wear my past as a badge, of what I have accomplished.
I want to be thrown against a wall and taken with passion.
I was arrested once.
Intolerance of any kind would drive me to violence.
Mental illness fascinates me, but is one of my greatest fears.
Sex is not love nor is love sex.
I fear clowns…hate the bastards. Can’t sleep clowns will eat me.
My meaning of life? Go on an adventure!

Fantasies are amazing things. They can lead you around the world or help you experience things you only wish of. I’ve been surrounded by fantasies for as long as I can remember. Now of course some might say a fantasy world is not healthy. I say living without letting your mind wander and create is not healthy. Where would your dreams come from, what would you strive for? There is a line you should never cross though; your fantasy world should never replace the day-to-day hustle and bustle. Never let opportunities pass, or stop getting to know the people around you for the sake of your “world”. The moment before sleep takes over is the perfect time to let your imagination soar.

Depending on the detail of the fantasy you can have whole relationships with people. I’ve had many of them, and it truly feels like you know them on a personal level. Of course it’s what you make their personality out to be. That can be dangerous; I’ve had fantasies backfire on me. I’ve had a great relationship with someone and you find out in “real” life that they are nothing like what you created them to be. And let’s be honest, most fantasies are involving people of a “famous nature”. Of course it could also so be those old lover’s you’d like to get that second chance with or someone that did you wrong. Or just that co-worker you’d like to sneak off into the backroom closet with. And always the aspiring dreams or “what if’s”. My “relationship” fantasies don’t often involve a sexual encounter, it seems my mind wants the deeper closeness of the person, not just their reproductive organs!

Maybe I’m alone in these thoughts, but I have a feeling that some others must have a similar playground. Where would the big dreamers, the inspired of this world get it? Our books and films, grand ideas and secret wishes. Ok, not everybody gets to realize their fantasies, but it is fun to play around with them. Don’t ever let time take the boy out of the man, or for that matter the child out of the woman. I never want to “grow up”. It’s a boring world of responsibility and duties. And in this world you need every chance you can get to explore, even if it’s your own creation.

I thought of putting some of my creations down on paper, but I’m not sure if that would taint them. It’s like dreams; they make sense in your head when you’re having them. But when you try to record them the next morning, the don’t seem to make sense. Or heaven forbid they sound ridiculous. I guess part of me is frightened to have them read, and have them tainted by others ridicule. My “worlds” are where I am never judged, to bring them to life means to allow them and me to be open to judgment. These are my secret desires, if I had a story to tell in a proper medium, I wouldn’t be afraid of the consequences. I tried out the first two paragraphs of this journal on a couple of close friends. One laughed and the other ignored it all together. “You thought you’d found a friend, to take you out of this place. Someone you could lend a hand, in return for grace”. I’m not looking to validate my feelings by others approval, but it would be nice to find that person that isn’t afraid.

I’m a dreamer, a wonderer, an explorer and wisher. When it’s something I feel passionate about, I go all out. When something interests me, I will obsess till I know everything I can about it. I live in present day and enjoy all those around me. My vivid imagination allows me to create and have a say in how my life turns out. I am me because of my experiences and my dreams together.

I received an email a week ago, last Wednesday, from a man I barely talked with. What I do recall is that he was married, older and lied in a most friendly manner, about seeing Requiem for a Dream (which is why I let the first conversation fall away the first time). He had read my blog, and wrote a large email about it. Saying such beautiful things about my writing and about how he saw the events from my words. He ended up getting it right. It floored me, I'm a sucker for such talk, let alone about ideas or thoughts. I emailed back, he responded. I sent another one, he responded. All on the Thursday. Friday morning I met up with him on msn. Had fun chatting, found out he was from England (me and my UK obsession) My next question was "do you have an accent?". He does. Oh no! I asked if he wanted to meet up. We arranged a meeting later in the day. I sat at Riverview for awhile, thinking, writing, enjoying such a beautiful spot. I headed to Starbucks to meet the "smartass brit" at 630pm. He walked in, handsome, he looked like a laid back kind of guy.

He sat, he talked, with his accent. We had a good conversation, he was sarcastic, charming and funny. I was comfortable but yet still couldn't get my words out right, fumbling a bit, hoping he didn't notice. Was very interested in hearing about his "situation" with his wife. He felt safe, he was married, some of the "worries" meeting a man was lifted. About 2 hours later he said he had to go and walk his dogs...hmmm... but we had set up a "code"” for not being interested. He would say he had to go and wash his hair. He took my hands in his and told me that he didn't have to go wash his hair and laughed. But he did need to walk his dogs. So he walked me out to the car, I was feeling anxious, still new to this whole thing, wondering if perhaps I have it wrong, that first meetings are not supposed have hot, sweaty, sex yet. Or I don't hold the same taboo's about sex as society, and I don't have a problem expressing it. He turned me around, grabbed my face and kissed me. Ummm, biting my bottom lip, hard. My knees felt weak, and I wrapped my hands around his neck, massaging it. He said he was worried he would have ended up with 2 black eyes, I smiled dropped my bag and kissed him again. His hands were resting against the sides of my breasts, lightly stroking. My hand found his chest and played a bit, perhaps I shouldn't have done that. I remember making a comment on how long it would take to walk his dogs, he smiled. But we still broke apart and went our seperate ways. He had asked in the coffee shop if I wanted to do something this weekend. I assumed since it was Friday he meant either sat or sun. I emailed him Sat morning asking if he still wanted to do something. His reply was "of course he would, and would like to see other ways he can make me blush"”. That was the last I have heard from him.

So my mind plays tricks on me, I keep thinking, maybe he meant this upcoming weekend. But I don'’t think so. And I saw he posted a blog on Sunday, which means he was on the computer and may have seen my emails. Not one back though. This is one guy I was interested in chatting with, finding out more about an "“open"” relationship. Maybe I was too green for it? Maybe he doesn't want to start with a newbie, or maybe there is a set of rules for married people I'm not quite sure of yet. I ended with an email saying thank you for the wonderful things he wrote to me and that I did find him quite attractive. And just left it at that. Would love to see him again, he made me laugh, and really I have no reason to be left with any question. I'm just too anxious to discover new things...little patience...should work on that.

I once had a relationship with an older man when I was 19, he was 32. At that age, I was silly and thought the world revolved around "20 somethings". I nicknamed him "older than god". Not very flattering to outsiders, but to those who knew him and I, knew he looked like Ted Nealy from Jesus Christ Superstar (the most religious thing my parents ever forced on us). Problem was Ted Nealy was Jesus....I think that was my first step in signing my warrant to hell! So the "older than god" was not meant to be offensive, just clever and a bit sacrilegious.

He taught me things in and out of the bedroom that have stayed with me. I found him distinguished and liked the feeling of being a bit naive and letting him guide me. I have always found older men more attractive, hopefully the same bullshit younger men suffer from has been replaced with intelligence and passions discovered through life. I remember lying with him, laughing and talking, enjoying the time but never taking it to be more than what it was. We didn't have a future together, it was about learning from each other, exploring and just creating a great friendship...with a bit of a bonus.
We eventually moved on...I grew older...he went on to a different stage in life, he wanted children, even with a friend, but we differed on our thoughts on children in this world. It was an experience that still leaves a smile on my face, one of those people you will never forget and have no regrets about it.

Funny thing is...I'm fast approaching the "older than god" age...... It makes me laugh to think what I thought old was.

I think I found my most perfect “sitting” spot. A beautiful setting, trees that are over a hundred years old, providing you with an umbrella of shade. The backdrop? An old 1912 building, with perhaps a bit of a sinister history, which brings out the uniqueness of the area. There are some locals you need to avoid, but you end up feeling so relaxed and comfortable.





Inspiration flows there, the history of the place helps induce mindful thoughts. For those who know where I’m talking about, just may be laughing their asses off at that comment.

Sitting there, letting my mind wander, I thought back to when I was younger. The way I had looked at the world, how I saw intimacy or sex, how I interacted with people and how I thought of myself. Growing up, you put those ideas away, think it’s a learning curve and battle society with how they say you should think of the world as an adult.

I fought it most of the way, experiencing things for myself, always being a bit “unique”. But unfortunately I folded when it came to some situations felt that I was in the wrong and should fit nicely into an acceptable mold. Tried that mold and have discovered, it’s just not me.

How I viewed certain things, are coming back into my conscience now. Felt guilty for it and tried to squash it, but I keep coming back to the realization that some things don’t change, and maybe they shouldn’t. You can’t feel guilty for feeling that way, just reevaluate it for this stage in life, and carry on. If there is one in this life you have to be true to, it’s yourself.


If I leave here tomorrow
Would you still remember me?
For I must be travelling on, now,
'Cause there's too many places I've got to see.
But, if I stayed here with you, girl,
Things just couldn't be the same.
'Cause I'm as free as a bird now,
And this bird you can not change.
Lord knows, I can't change.

Bye, bye, its been a sweet love.
Though this feeling I can't change.
But please don't take it badly,
'Cause Lord knows I'm to blame.
But, if I stayed here with you girl,
Things just couldn't be the same.
Cause I'm as free as a bird now,
And this bird you'll never change.
And this bird you can not change.
Lord knows, I can't change.
Lord help me, I can't change.

Freebird – Lynyrd Skynyrd

One of the most enjoyable things in this world? Driving along the sea to sky past Whistler, windows rolled down, the mountains stretched out in front of you and freebird playing on the car speakers. It doesn’t get much better on a day like that. Unless it’s the drive back from an amazing weekend camping.

Went up to Birkenhead this Canada Day long weekend. It was a scary 17k ride up a hellish dirt road. But was well worth it. I’m not one that enjoys “provincial” parks but this one was unlike any I had seen. The forest was so thick you couldn’t tell who your neighbors were. The snow littered mountains within reach, teasing you on such a hot weekend.

A good group of people came, most new to me. A bit too much alcohol celebrating Canada Day! But I had to show up the male who said woman can’t drink Tequila. Three shots to his one…hmm…pansy. But I paid for it the next morning. I’m not a big drinker, but I can hold my own.

On the last morning, the four in my tent awoke to hearing scraping sounds by the picnic table. Steph and I were already awake and were debating what the sound was. She called out, not believing what I thought it was…translation? “It’s a bear Steph!”. I think the funniest thing on this trip was her sticking her head out the tent and then stumbling backwards back inside, her breath gone and shouting “crap, it’s a bear”. That’s when we had to pull out Sarah “the bear wrangler”. Who chased him away the many times he made an appearance that morning.

It was a weekend filled with laughing, so much laughing. We had bad jokes flowing, good company, a little molestation that was not unwelcome, and sista’s! A perfect weekend with great friends, old and new. Can’t wait for August!

The pretty boy, that was my first impression of him. The man after my brooding writer disappeared from my life. Only a few will go down as interesting enough to remember, and he is one of them.

The pictures he showed were never enough to get a good look at him, just beautiful features and haunting eyes. It was those eyes that kept me talking; they had a mischievous look to them.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and our first conversation lasted 5 hours. I still think it’s crazy that people will tell so much of themselves in such a short time. As for the pretty boy, he fast became known as Saint Switch. Such a high level of intelligence and imagination and a twisted dark side that had me intrigued. It was natural to continue this tease with emails. And so the ritual of the “morning email” began. A rush was felt every time you would see his name in the inbox, wondering what smutty things he came up with now. It soon began to include the more G rated material, a joint effort in trying to learn as much as we could about each other.

Then came the phone calls, which were a little stressed. But we kept going, learning more and more. This worried me; I had not been completely honest with him about something quite important. I knew I had to come clean, not for my benefit, but so he wasn’t getting screwed around, especially by me since I had started to become fond of him.

I knew what was at stake telling him, but it’s just not my style to deceive. I wrote one of the hardest emails, exposing myself completely, leaving nothing left but a naked shell asking for understanding. But fully realizing that I was wrong to expect that, and releasing him from any obligation to me. I sent it to him late in the evening, not expecting much of a response at all, but anticipating having to answer some difficult questions.

Saint Switch emailed me back at the crack of dawn. He was disappointed by my deceit; hurt that someone he was getting to know hid such things. But the part of his email that will stay with me forever was “I’m not going anywhere”. There was a mixture of surprise and happiness. I knew I had a lot to answer for, but his response I was not prepared for.

We talked about it, ran the subject into the ground and came out as we had been before the confession. Nothing much had changed, and I had a higher level of respect for him. I didn’t have a way to express how much it meant to have someone accept all that I am, and all that I had been through.

But not everything remained the same…

The calls became less, as did the emails. People’s lives can get crazy busy, and driven individuals lose themselves in it. Too much time passed and I became jaded towards the situation. I felt guilty for putting on him my own rules of how this thing should go. I think he felt that and pulled away even more. I lost myself in someone that I had no real knowledge of, wanting the attention and getting frustrated when it wasn’t delivered. It started “hot and heavy” and was now petering to a friendship, if that. I saw all this and quickly put a stop to it. Feeling silly that I would get carried away over the thought of this stranger, one I wasn’t even sure about. So I dusted myself off, made my apologies and carried on. Thinking all was over with Saint Switch, he called, and wrote an email or two, pulling me back in. But this time my head was clear and I did not take the whole thing too seriously.

A wise man once told me, “welcome to the internet!”. I think I got carried away with the thought of my words being in “someone’s head”. But I also think I was being played with, a charmer of the first degree. I’m not naïve and can read situations quite clearly. This wasn’t going anywhere.

But my curiosity was getting better of me. How could it not be, after talking with him for two months? And perhaps he would make an amazing friend? So I extended an invite for adventure. A Sunday afternoon of laughing and travel, doing what we had in common, photography. I wasn’t expecting an answer, let alone a “sounds like a great idea”.

It was a fun time, meeting him. My curiosity fulfilled, not sure if he was everything I had made him out to be. But the man in front of me was kind, fun and perhaps showed more of his personality in a few moments then the whole two months. Then he showed a high level of trust, he posed for me, letting a “stranger” take control of his image. I could never betray that trust, so how I thought of the situation changed. If I was going to use him as a model I couldn’t have any game-playing going on.

I asked him later how he had felt, and his response was similar to how I saw it. On my end, photographing him is an intimate experience for me, through all of it. And I need him to be comfortable to allow that kind of intimacy; if he holds back then it is useless. I found him more attractive now then I did then, but I look at him differently, not sexually for me, but sexually for art.

I felt a bit sad that it was ending, the fantasy. He doesn’t see the same Kate as on that Sunday two months ago, and I can’t “see” him the same on this Sunday. We both offered friendship to each other. And only time will tell. I do wish for a confidant, that man you can call on, for a ear and a good laugh. And I feel close to Saint Switch, but then again I’m coming from a place where I allowed him to become more than a stranger. I can’t guess how he thinks, nor do I want to. This whole experience was new to me, and I made my mistakes. Now I’m comfortable and have to see if the both of us have things to learn from each other. And if not, I am proud of myself for doing it, the whole thing, ending with some brilliant pictures that I can look back on and smile, wondering where life took that fantastic man?

I learned that this journey is not much of one if you can’t be everything you are. And for that I thank my pretty boy.

For those in need
For those who speed
For those who try to slow their minds with weed
Sunday

For those with guilt
For those who wilt
Under pressure
No tears over spilt milk
Sunday

Yeah, it will be ok
Do nothing today
Give yourself a break
Let your imagination runaway

Sunday - Sia