Heart's Crescendo

Talk about a long-butt absence.

Since last writing I have been through a numbing break-up, switched majors, and transferred from shoes to electronics. My life remains great and, as long as I avoid inspirational music, fairly uncomplicated.

I have one best friend, Joel, and a handful of good friends and acquaintances. I rarely go out with friends but spend considerable amounts of time out by myself or with my parents/grandparents. My friends are not really in the same boat as me at all anymore, so it would make it difficult to go out often. They do not buy things when they  go to the mall and do not appreciate any of the same things I do. They also only go out on Saturdays, when I am most usually working.

Since I broke up with Brandon in early September I have not so much as thought about liking anyone. Things are rather raw and ugly with my ex now, which is bizarre since neither of us spoke for two months afterward and are now trading barbed insults at a rate rarely seen by the average person. It is about a hundred times more painful now than it ever was then, and continues to be a briar in the garden of my life.

As long as I make sure not to let the music take me, I do pretty well. As soon as I decide to take a listen to anything deeper than High School Musical 3 fare, I get mysef into a mess of trouble. I start thinking about love lost and what it means to be me. Very sticky stuff.

Well, later on.

I think I'm in love with Rod Stewart's immense hotness.

That's all.

I'm basically going to move over to Red vs Blue for a while.

=)

I am actually going to watch High School Musical 2. (*gasp*)

Anyway, I'm a bit tired.

I learned how to play some RvB music last night, which was barrels of monkey fun. It's unbelievably easy.

Oh, and I thought I was being tough because my fingers are so callused I can't feel the tips when I type (my fingers are all shiny with callused skin), but I started chords finally last night and my hands are aching. It's a totally different grip than with plucking and it hurts bad. LOL. 

OK well this is mainly to talk about my dreams last night, which were extremely odd:

First, I was trying out for show choir (Lord only knows why) and for some odd reason, it was the middle of fall - homecoming, football, soccer, voting and all the fun stuff that comes with them - and it had become much harder to get in. It was choreography try-outs. They handed me a "kit" they said I would need and sent me to the basement (yes all of a sudden the school had a readily available basement) to change. It was dark down there and I was all alone. I couldn't find a good concealed place to change and finally drew back into a little room to change. I opened up the "kit" and found about four different sprays - hair spray, glitter spray, sticky spray to keep your bra in place and stickier spray to keep your underwear in place. Underneath all that was the outfit we were supposed to try out in - a shiny orange and black bikini top and a shiny orange and black bikini bottom with silver fringe. Outraged I went back upstairs and demanded a new outfit; a parent shoved a bag my way and I went back down. The bag was filled with Spandex bermuda-length shorts and a Spandex tank top. Mortified, I had the spandex pants on when I began to hear the school band. I kept thinking, WTF, I'm in a basement, how can I hear the band? And then all of a sudden a door on ground level bursts open and in comes the whole band and I'm standing there half-dressed. I ripped the tank top on and emerged from my room. "What the heck are you doing here?" (I kept wondering how they had gotten into a basement level room from outside, but I was so deeply asleep I couldn't make myself change it.) They said there had been an emergency and they needed to get somebody to the hospital wing. (Yes, we now all of a sudden had a hospital wing, too.) I was like, "who is it?" And they brought Josh, limp and lifeless, bleeding from his side, up to the front. I started screaming at them to hurry and get him up to the hospital wing, but no one seemed keen to do so. "We just want somewhere peaceful for him to die," one of them said. I just stared at them, then hiked all six feet, four inches and two-hundred and twenty pounds of him up on my back and started trying to carry him upstairs. When I finally got to the top, Mrs. Smith screamed at me to go back down and stretch to dance. I told her I had to take him to the hospital wing, and she said, "You have to make a decision! His life or show choir!" And I shoved past her and she was screaming for them to restrain me.... then the dream changed....

Nan, Papaw, and I were driving endlessly in the mountains. I was feeling sick because the mountains make me feel that way, and it was getting miserable. Suddenly we came out in a clearing - beautiful emerald green meadow, a little stone bridge with a clear stream running beneath it. I started hollering because there was a gorgeous, pure white unicorn standing in the clearing, iridescent tail and mane with a glittering white horn. I kept telling Nan to look at it but she couldn't see it and neither could Papaw. There was an old, decrepit, shaggy, dirty pony in the corner they saw, but they couldn't see the unicorn on the other side of the meadow. We kept driving and as we drove I saw more of them, wandering along the road, one dark blue with a black horn, another fire-red with orange mane and tail and a black horn, more and more of them. Suddenly we were back in civilization and Papaw announced that we had reached....


I'll finish later because I don't feel so good.

~*

Shock, awe, and amazement.

((I'm still alive.))

I've decided to try and not care about what everyone else thinks of me because that particular little hang-up is what got me into this mess in the first place.

Yeah... that's about it, LOL.
Kittens need catching and music needs playing so I'll write later.

I'm so tired.

Well, I got my permit today. Finally. Twenty years later... *sigh*. But, it's not such a horrible photo, considering, and aside from my signature looking like a four year old's, I'm happy with it. I might go drive around in the field at random in a little while.

Well, since I last posted I got on the Points system. I don't actually know how much weight I've lost (our scale's batteries are dead) but I have lost some... you can see it through the face. I've also tanned a lot, considering. I got a new bathing suit, which I adore - it's brown with turquoise, fuschia, and gilt tropical floral patterns. There's ruching on the stomach, a short swimskirt, and a halter neck, in addition to good chest support... LOL. It's cute. I've wanted it for a long time, but by the time it had gone on sale they no longer has my size. So it's two sizes bigger than my normal, but that's OK - my grandma fixed it. 

I got a bunch of new clothes, actually - two peasant-material tank tops in red, black, and white; a sleeveless red and white polka dot number; a red faux-t-shirt-hoodie with butterflies on it; and a black and white striped halter top. Oh, and a new pair of shorts, which were badly needed. But... yeah.

I marked Bob off my list of potential targets along with Josh. Adios fellas. I forgot how much of an arse Bob is. I knew how much of an arse Josh was but chose to ignore it and, now free of his company, am doing much better... LOL.

I refuse to give up on some people.

I finished Twilight Princess, and I swear a part of me died. It was so depressing. Midna turned out not only to be *spoiler alert* the sarcastic, demanding, witty Twilight Princess, but also drop-dead gorgeous in that anime sort of way. (She was like seven or eight feet tall,  with green-blue skin and red gold hair and eyes... pretty, well anyway...) Link was beasty. Shad, Shad was the geeky dude, and he was just downright sexy for an animated character... LOL.

To ease the pain, I picked up guitar. I can pluck out Gerudo Interlude, Zelda's Lullaby, Serenade of Water, Hoist the Colours, the intro of "Last Child", and a few other things... but my best is Song of Storms... I played around with my own melody this morning... I really like guitar. For all I've idolized it and those who can play it for so long, it's just as comfortable in my own hands. Yesterday Alex let me play his gorgeous marblized pearlized green electric with the marblized pearlized white pick guard.... O.M.G. Love at first pluck. He plugged it into an amp and put distortion on while I picked out Song of Storms and Gerudo Interlude. Gorgeous. I think, in that moment, I fell in love. 

If I keep up playing, my parents said I might get a new guitar for Christmas. The one I have now is a 35+ year old acoustic steel string with a nick in the fretboard and some paint missing in places. The pick guard is nicked a few places... It's a nice guitar, but old... I have trouble getting it to stay in tune. Plus I don't have any of that fancy, shmancy tuning equipment and am relegated to using a keyboard (that's also horribly out of tune) and my ears to tune. And the steel strings are getting a little old.... pain, much??

That one Alex let me try yesterday was WONDERFUL. It fit right to my hand and had gorgeous quality. He doesn't even play it; he by and large prefers his boring, black Kramer (which DOES have a very nice sound to it, I must say). He also recently came into possession of a GORGEOUS cobalt four-string bass <3 by way of pawn shop. It's wonderful.

I think the one he let me play was a Gibson... I hitherto didn't care for Gibson, but I might change my mind. I like the look of Epiphones, and they're cheap, but...

Ah, learn to strum a little more on the one I have first, I suppose.

I've got to wrap Caiti & Amanda's stuff. I got them both earrings and keychains - I think they're pretty, LOL. And I have to get Vivian's gift to her... AND I have to take the polish off my nails and repaint them. They look horrible. Besides, I might like having manicured red-orange talons sliding up and down the frets of my g-tar. At any rate they need done before the party.

I leave for Ireland Monday... that hasn't really sunk in just yet. Not at all. I'm too busy thinking about working outside and random parties and playing guitar and my KITTENS <33333.

Ah yes, let's talk about my little balls of fluff.

First there's Carson, who I talk about first because he's the least interesting. Carson is very fat and likes to eat. And eat. And then come over a minute to see you before retiring. Not the most sociable kitty ever. He's still sweet though.

Second, Sid Vicious, who's my baby. I yanked him out from beneath the trailer, I bore his scratches, I coaxed the little thing out into the open, I grabbed him up to pet him daily, and I worked at it. He loves me. He'll crawl over to me and lay down by my leg. If I pick him up and set him on my lap, he'll lay down there and go to sleep. I just love him. He has the softest fur of all time, and the prettiest face. He does not look like any of his siblings. His eyes are huge and blue-green-amber, and he has funny looking ears and huge paws. I adore Sid.

Third, Mr. Tyler, who I also adore. Mr. Tyler is cute, cute, CUTE, and friendly like Ren, but much more scared. He likes my singing the best (and none of our animals has EVER been able to STAND my singing before now) and will go right to sleep with a little "Vincent." He's charming. I just love him!

Fourth is Ren... LOL. We all love Ren, and Ren loves all of us. Ren is fiery, friendly, outgoing, loves people, a climber, and brave. He's tiny compared to the rest and rather ugly. Well... not to us. To us he's the cutest thing in the world. He, like his brothers, has HUGE blue eyes. He often walks sideways, like a crab, and stumbles about. He will fight anything, never gives up, and will climb up on and lay on whoever is handy. He can get a little territorial, too - when he climbs up on your lap, he gets mad if one of the other kittens does the same. LOL.

But Ireland...

I can't imagine it.

I best go.

~*

I want to travel.

Ireland beckons, but I mean - I want to travel a lot. All the time. Across the country and across the world. I love exotic locales. Part of me wants to get to an age where I'm living alone so I can head off someplace and run by my own rules. I love going with my parents. We run around together and have a general good time. But they also dictate what I get to do. Don't get me wrong - I'm never denied anything. They're more than likely to give in to whims whilst we are vacationing. My mother ENCOURAGED me to lie down in the grass when I expressed a desire to do so in lovely Ireland. 

But my 'rents - they're the early to bed, early to rise type. Unfailingly. And they worry about me if I drift off into silence. When I'm really quiet, it usually means that I'm extremely content and thinking. So everyone worried about me as I pondered while we walked the river walk. I was in fact soaking everything up so I could write about it later - but try explaining that to them.

I want to see every side of the places I go. Not just the early evening, day, and early morning. Show me the night life. Show me everything you have to offer. When I'm older, that will be a possibility, I should think. Although it may be dangerous, of course - in which case I must have a manly protector.

Yes, I rather think that my idea of a good first romantic getaway would be the beach. Virginia Beach. Walking on its moonlit shores is so undeniably romantic that even if you previously has a violent aversion to the person you stroll it with, you'll be in love. Imagine what it would do for a pair of lovers. For a second one, maybe, New York. See a Broadway show or two. Stroll the streets. A short trip, of course. For a third, San Antonio. Dinner on the River Walk, shopping, museum visits. General strolling. For your fourth, Disney World, just as a matter of fun and games. And for your fifth, the Lake Hotel on the lakes of Killarney in Ireland. Picnics, hiking, shopping, swimming, and finding lots of nooks in the endless parks. The fifth would truly be PERFECT, just the picture of what you would expect of a romantic getaway, really just...unbelievable. I hope that's how my honeymoon reads out. 

If I fell really just madly in love shortly into my college education and wanted to move in with said lover, I'd just go ahead and get married. I mean, obviously, I don't approve of living together before marriage. So we marry, and have a lot easier time of it that way while I fight my way through law school or getting my doctorate in genetics. And when I'm raking in the bucks, we have a "second wedding' - like the one I want - and our first actual honeymoon, as penned above, just flight after flight across the miles.

I want to get married in Ireland, anyway. Or in a really pretty, cathedral style church, with white and red roses, just mile upon endless mile of them, and a beautiful white dress with red accents and my hair all curling down my back... It's something faintly reminiscent of what every little girl is supposed to dream of and let go of as she becomes older and more independent and different. I've never wanted to be a princess so I could be surrounded with lace and fluff. It's always been the heroine that catches my eyes. It's from that my independent streak originates - it's just another part of me that I know exists but everyone else never sees, and even if they did see it, it'd be a "bad thing". But in my mind I AM a heroine, leastways cut out to be one, brilliant red hair like the heroines of old, strong eyes, strong and tall. I should never have been born so tall - it's dangerous, to give me that illusion that I'm just slightly superior, because of my height, that I should lead. (They've proven that extra height gives people the impression that they're cut out to lead. Certainly has me.)

Oh my goodness, this is long and progressively more off task.

How great novels are born. :D

Love everyone!
~*Riley

Ach.

Note to self: wisdom teeth removal surgery is most unpleasant.

I have zip feeling in my lower lip. It feels like a rather large slug that an idiot taped to my face while I was under. Heavy - but dry. Really dry. And detached. I'm still numb from my lip, to my chin, up my jaw bones to my ears. Not fun. Every so often the taste of the medicated gauze gets to me, filling my mouth like the scent of bad Christmas candy that a kindly old auntie gives to you with good intentions but full knowledge that likely as not it's about three years old - and that the only time people ever gagged it down when it WASN'T expired was as a remedy during a terrible disease in the 1920's. I'll admit, it tastes much better than blood. Blood is terribly unpleasant. It doesn't mix well with banana pudding, Keep that in mind, OK? Blood + bananas = yick.

The stitches are a little much. Sure they dissolve. But they are also THERE for now, so I can feel them. And they're really, really gross.

I am so tired. At the office, they literally put my IV in my elbow and I heard them say "let's give her 3". And then I was gone. Leaden limbs immediately, and then a total blackness. It was rather nice. They could have kept me under, lol.

Now I've leaden lids. And quite the numbness going on. A little pain, yes - I took some BIG TIME drugs, though, I mean, MAJOR things. So... I'm OK I guess.

I've been watching Red vs Blue, 1 & 4, and now Aquamarine. (Yes, Aquamarine, it was one of the only things on, you know,) It's typical Disney sap-fest, but I like that sorta thing - some days. Like Firehouse Dog yesterday -  lame movie, but well, I made it through it just fine, probably greatly aided and abetted by the warm strength of the man by my side. He - just makes everything so nice. Including that he's built like a -

OK, sorry. The squeamish should now cover their ears. OK, eyes.

This tapered little waist to him - not little, I guess, but narrow - then very lightly muscled, thin abs - and sturdy, nice ribs - into these solid, broad, substantial, thick, awesome awesome awesome shoulders. Lord. They're so nice. I go crazy for them. And the arms - gosh. Thin enough I guess, but with these nice sharp bicep muscles... wow.

END DISTURBING.

I'm kind of drifting. 

Much love everyone.

~*Riley