misuse of the word "ironic"? I don't think so!

Just after I made this post here is what comes up.

Oh Google, you are GOOD. Maybe TOO good.




And if you have a word that really is better than ironic to describe this, do share! ;)

haha I'm BACK!

I'm back. I haven't really been anywhere that interesting (maybe fun and very addicting though. . . ). I just took a left turn at FarmVille and got lost in CityVille . . . and well, I realized when I hit the level cap in CityVille within a few weeks of it's release (with the help of some GREAT new friends in Facebook, btw!:)) that I had a problem. Yeah, I'm going to admit it here, I love jumping out of reality and getting lost in a virtual world - especially when it is "FREE".

You know what's great about having limited funds? It saves people like me from wonderful, wonderful places like Azeroth, people like myself that *just*can't*stop* . . . /sigh

So here I am, deciding to try to get back out that melodramatic, fabulous, pessimistic (ok maybe not the pessimistic) self that used to attempt to write and occasionally sketch designs. I am letting go of my awesome city at the current level cap of 60, and promising myself that *it*will*be**OKAY** to let go of my farm just six teeny-tiny levels shy of 100. Yeah, I'm bragging. Yeah, I'm having trouble letting go.

I imagine this sounds a bit silly. And just as a disclaimer - I'm not dissing all those fantastic people that play those games on Facebook . . . I'm just over using ellipsis again and really enjoying it!

HELLO WORLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DESILOU FREEBUSH IS BACK OUT ENJOYING THE SUNSHINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

insert witty title here

Every once in a while I find myself in a slippery conversation and realize I'm not really getting my point across but can't help but to continue. Continue to what end... not sure. It's like having a Foot-in-Mouth Day. One of the days when you know you should attempt to say as little as at all possible for as much of the day as possible. Today was one of those days, and I had one of those conversations. Contemplating later all the other things I could have said, I realized that talking to some people is like looking through a glass, thinking it is a window and then realizing that it is really a two way mirror. Exactly like that.

never never land?

I've climbed to the top of these stairs before. They are the same stairs, turning, cold stone stairs climbing a tower, ever climbing, clockwise, clockwise, upward, upward. Never reaching the top of the tower, the final step brings me to the top of a straight, regular staircase, alone, and a dark fogginess covering anything but the stairs ... I've seen this before, the same never getting anywhere feeling. Just when the hard part is done, it turns out that was the easy part. Finally, I know what I'm talking about - wait no, I know I don't. Read back to the childish journal entries of the past, five, ten, fifteen years... wait, it's the same voice, the same soul, the same newness and naivety. Am I trapped in an emotional never never land?

musing

thought
       throwing rocks at roses

persuasion
       pearls before swine

completion
       crowns before a throne

infinity
       in a place beyond time

disclaimer: this was writen while listening to Damien Rice's "The Blower's Daugher"

I'm having a day that feels like everything is picking up on my mood and perpetuating it. I am reletively sure we create our own reality and I am doing it myself... yes, Data is seeing threes everywhere and reality suddenly makes sense.
Last night I dreamed an odd dream (what's new there?) but  through out the dream I was looking for something to drink. I was going through cupboards looking for coffee. I drank cranberry juice, went to the fridge to get some orange pineapple juice, was handed a glass of water, and saw someone making a pitcher (yes, plastic pitcher) of dark coffee with a layer of creamer on top. When it was poured, it gave up just the right amount of coffee and creamer and combined itself. Somewhere in there I realized that choosing to never drink anything would be a slow, painful way to die. I woke up.
My son got out of his pj's this morning. They were a sleeper that I had removed the feet from and cut a little v in the back of the collar so I could put them on him backwards - he'd still be comfy but wouldn't be able to take them off. Ha. Ha. Turns out the little v in the collar was just enough room for him to Houdini out of them and well... we've seen this mess before.
After he had a bath and was settled in the high chair with his breakfast, my (WONDERFUL) hubby cleaned up the crib while I took a shower. Somehow it wasn't as refreshing as I thought it would be, my coffee wasn't as good as I'd been craving in my dream, and my daughter was a grouch when I came back out. Never mind that, I should be in a good mood, or at least not a total grouch, so I got the kids settled, tidied up a bit and then started catching stuff up on the computer.
I'm a product of my noisy, technologically advanced society. I can hardly stand quiet. I love music. I had to have some tunes even if my kiddos were ensuring the house would in no uncertain terms be too quiet. Pandora Internet Radio? Me love it long time. I tuned in and it read my mind. I know that that's not one of the Pandora's creators claims. Yet somehow it read my mind, my mood, and started playing Damien Rice's The Blower's Daughter.... then David Grey, Other Side... then Coldplay, Fix You....
While I'm writing my mind is wandering back to things I usually avoid meditating on. My current thought is that one can learn from the past, mistakes or otherwise, chalk it all up to "experience" and do the best you can from there. What is the point in contemplating the what-ifs if it's beyond your power to actually change what happened? I've heard of people going back and changing a tiny detail of a memory to something better every time they think of it until one day, the memory is golden and comforting and happy and nothing near what really happened. Does this ease the soul? It must, if it's needed. Is there a time when this would be called for? Yes. Do I have anything that calls for that? No, unless I've already suppressed it, and have no idea. What if one needs a firm grip on reality one day in the future but lost it in all th flips and switches and imaginings of the past?

Reposted: snowy imaginings

think i'm hallucinating

seeing things that are not there

light shining through the window

shining on your hair

i stood bare foot in the dark

i couldn't light a match

light was glaring off the ice

the wind hasn't started blowing yet

you thought i was your angel

i thought we'd fly away

its over but not gone

its over and gone now

imagine we'd find something else to say

there's nothing left to say