Sunday, August 23, 2015

In The End, Freedom

"This song is over...
I sing my heart to the wide open spaces
I sing my song to the breeze,"

Just three lines from the Who song, The Song is Over.

With certain endings there is a rush of intoxicating freedom, and then the gifts start pouring in like cool, clean air through a long-unopened window.

Holy mama, I like music again!  I mean, to listen to and sing along with.  I'm listening to things I like without a mind to how I must process it.  I like what I like and the rest can fuck off.

Speaking of which, my singing voice wants to come back.  I can't stop myself from wanting to sing now.  I'm not saving myself for anything anymore.  My voice wants to soar out of a speaking contralto-maybe just to sing in the same contralto, but it's for me.  Fuck show biz.  What do I want to sing?

My mind is free!  This I'm still getting my head around *rim shot*.

Robbie Knight was SO CLAUSTROPHOBIC.  I can BE the cool chick on the bar stool, but I am NOT a chick who is on bar stools; I played her.  I was raised in New England; I got the essence of a liberal education, or the sensibility of one, just by osmosis.  I love Shakespeare, I love opera, I read literature.  I use vocabulary that is way beyond 6th grade and I'm tired of dumbing down everything I say for the mic.  I don't have to anymore.

I'm off the rails of the career track.  I work to work, to make money.  I write to create.  I don't need my entire purpose to come from career. 

My mind is free to be mine!  I love science and music.  I love to grow and make food.  I love to tell stories...maybe.

We'll see what happens from here.  For the moment, I'm just breathing deep from a wide, blue, sparkling sky...

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