particular

i'm not feeling particularly blog-gy right now, but i am feeling pretty sick of waiting. waiting for my life to change. i am not a wait-er. comprende? i am a do-er. typically there aren't many things i feel i actually am waiting on, because whatever happens i am not expecting, of if i am interested in making something happen i get the idea and then promptly DO it, you know? except this one thing. AGH! thus, my frustration lies in the pause button i feel someone has sat on and cannot hear me screaming at them to get OFF! seriously. i want to be more patient, god. i do.

make me, can you do that? no? damn. oh, that IS something i can do, eh? wait. got it. ok, well i guess i'll get on that then. thanks.

this reminds me of a funny situation in my youth (my closely removed youth, about 6 years ago). i had just gotten my first car, a stellar '88 toyota corolla that cost me $500 and i was sure was the best thing that could happen right then, especially considering it was a manual transmission. my dream come true! so what if it was maroon? i had wheels, man! anyway, one day the bottom seam on the passengers side headrest came free and i wanted it to be fixed. however, my favorite mode of correction was, at the time, my father's staple gun. it wasn't huge or anything fancy, but it seemd pretty durable and a quick solution to something that likely wouldn't ever be seen, and appealed to me the most. i like triggers and buttons, so sue me. i wanted to be a cashier for many years simply because of this reason. years. anyway, back on the trail here. so i walk inside and ask dad where his staple gun is. he asks why (which i hadn't prepared for, i forget he's brilliant and knows me well). i explain in my typical rushed way when i don't want him to try and think of a better, more comprehensive solution and just let me do what i want to do. he insists i show him before he'll let me use it. of course, he removes the headrest from the posts (oh, it comes off?) and takes it into the garage, simply shoves the seams back into the slot they fell out of and re-installs it in my car. *SIGH* it is at this point my mom and younger sister realize what has gone on and start to join in the amusment my father is gaining for the moment. oh, classic melissa! for several years after this, whenever i am about to do something impulsive and impatient, "staple the headrest!" is exclaimed and i rethink, amidst laughter and grins to appease my slight humiliation.

this story could have been shorter. but i was apparently really patient about typing it out for you to gain a deeper knowledge of me, my history and my present. what i am about, what i struggle with and what i love. or, maybe i just like typing on my keyboard. oh, buttons. *sigh* i will be patient if it kills me. i will. and i'll learn to love it, to listen to every little thing along the way.

trill and plink

oh the music. it makes me come alive to new

heights
shivers
joy
ows
freedom
thinking a thought i never knew
love at the sound
of
my
voice
with passion.


this beat. this creation inspires me to try my hand at meeting a new friend, opening a door for a stranger, wish i could play something. even if it is just my hands on the coffee table with the dog staring at my newfound talent. it makes me believe in myself. believe in enjoying life. believe it is not all pain and hardships. that it is beauty at its humanly possible best. the closest i can get to feeling the sound of god. the hand on my back, the chin on my head, the rest in my heart. rest. explode! dream again! live a day you want, a day to give and love and give and love. live this music. dance in your seat at the coffee shop with your headphones on. i only live once here and i want it to be my best, my fullest. as hard and as beautiful as it all is. and i know but a piece. the trill and plink of the keys on my heart.