grumpy grey

 

seattle says...

 

At night I sat on the roof and shot my photos of the twinkling lights and lit storefronts.  I was mesmerized from the minute the airplane began descent...sunshine and mountain profiles greeted my midwestern mentality.  

I shall return to you again Seattle, 

to your diverse population walking the sidewalk hills, 

to the great service and friendly strangers,  

your music and meals and home brews,

to the culture in the park and the creativity at the market, 

 to the shipping lanes and flower potted piers, 

 to the tolerant lifestyles of your neighborhoods, 

to creative opportunity and self preservation, 

to your forested foothills and falling water

 

to your naturally beautiful highway drives

  to continue my journey, renew relationships

live now...in God's country.

how things are

Blessed by the bloggers who invaded my soul.

Blessed and encouraged and reminded that I'm whole.

Gratitude

for allowing me room

to create and attempt

the inevitable fear and

the impossible dreams,

the uncouth,

unrehearsed,

unrequited,

creation of my ego.

I listen to each suggestion and remember each supposition.

Comments linger long enough to impress.

generous persuasion pushes.

compassionate patience calms.

familiar touch lifts the curtain covering my heart.

sweet smell compels me to create.

I am in line with cyberspace and time.

I am in awe of the impact my fingertips cajole.

I reel in my line and bait again for fresh catch.

I'm hooked.

I'm hoodwinked.

I am caught up

swept away with whispers of change

aboard the train to nowhere in particular.

My senses alive and doubtful again,

fear rising forefront and freshening my drink.

Gulping breaths above water,

in between the cycling waves

washing over my complacency,

cleansing my confidence

and drowning my id.

Baptized in the name of survival and sustenance.

Look forward or lose line of sight.

Something's missing in the crowd,

someone's lost their parental hand,

lost footing

under the riptide waves and swirling sand;

life is floating by you,

ignoring the pretty colors

of the  rainbow above.

Will you always catch my fallen star?

Will you forever be my reflection?

When will I say goodbye to you?

When will you dismiss me?

Where is this wave driving me?

Lucky in love with how things are.

Blessed to know that change is gonna' come.

celebrate

my month.  my birth.  my anniversary of blogging.  so many events, so little time.  

last year I remember being very very pissed off about not getting my birthday off from work.  I vented on facebook and my friends rallied to my immature rant.  My junior high friends met as we had planned and sang to a piece of cake with my candle sticking out of it.  the picture is my memory of number 43.  number 44 will be different, will set a precedent, will foreshadow future.  

happy birthday to my blog.  been blogging since october 2009.  sounds like a restaurant slogan.  millions of words typed, thousands of readers, hours of hoping.  actually, happy anniversary to jb, my french class friend who convinced this lost soul to give it a go.  jb, you rock!  and you roll too.  bothering him today with voicemails about U2 songs as I drive to work, I thank God for open minded friends like this one.  Someone who barely knows me realizes my soul needs sensible suggestion, and those who've grown in the same garden continue to question my motives.  

When does Lorraine feel sound?  what mountain has to erupt for Lorraine to mean more than a pile of potential?  when does my rainbow wrap around their golden pot of expectations?  never.  nada.  not gonna happen.  I am  not giving into conformity.  I'm staying true to myself.  I'm ready and willing to accept my consequences...like I teach my children, like I reteach myself.  Reading, writing, realizing.  Seeing, feeling, capturing the clouds on my way to work and the stars above the corn fields.  Listening to John Mellencamp sing about mortality and promises broken.  Meeting old friends dressed in new cloaks.  Speaking up to myself and listening to every word.  Showing true colors and allowing muddling.  Collecting coins for my fountain.  Ringing my bells, louder than ever.  Loud enough for all of the extensions of myself to hear, from sea to shining sea, from earth into heaven, from the Little Prince's planet to the big man's bedside.

Bear down and grin and bear it.  Sunday night football makes all things right.  night night!

peace,

~L