Pretty In Pink... Perfect In Paisley!

** Let's see where they are at... and what is going through their minds.** (From My Book... "When He Had Her") So it had seemed they had been here before. He laid in bed still sleeping while she sipped her coffee. The night before was easy it was like trying on that glove one more time. Nothing fit so good. His hands knew exactly where to go on her slim curves and her legs knew exactly how to fold around him . It was not rocket science... Like numerous times before, hitting the road and expanding outside their territory was what they did best. She had him all to herself. There were no distractions from his derelict friends and no interruptions from pets, kids and or anyone else that demanded his attention. It was why she loved these little jaunts. She had him to herself... all she ever wanted. His attention... Gazing out the patio door staring at the lake, the early morning steam lifted off the cool waters. Tablerock was a beautiful place. It was their place...

The gift of being eccentric comes with a lonesome cost it often stands out in an arena by itself. I find myself pivoting among people who don't get it. I can't explain the damage... For a matter of my whole life, I have tried to fit in where I do not belong and I have gone against my grain to be a part of something where I feel I do not have a place. I wonder when I really became the loner? Was it after mom died? A little girl saddened with grief where I just withdrew...or has been since my last relationship where there has been apprehensible, irreversible heartache and abuse. I have gone deep into a place where I have formed this sense of make believe creating and teaching myself to observe instead of participating. Lonely is the child that has been orphaned and lonely is the adult that has no sense of belonging. It is excruciatingly difficult to be forced to fit in... I have delved into my story lines where I have found it is easy to write scenarios where there is vera...

Randomly as I sit here each and every Sunday morning (which I am trying to be consistent) contemplating what I will write about. I persistently hone in to keep up with my writing skills so that they stay in tune with everyday occurances and to help clear these messy mindful cobwebs of mine. All the while hoping to entertain my audience (Ha!) for a wider broader appeal. The life of a writer... an artist... an entertainer, you memorize everything that happens to you. You replay and go over every bit of dialogue that you have had with whomever. Not wanting to divulge too much personal information but yet offering a little insight (reader interest) to make them think... I methodically rethink, if  it floats forefront in my mind, questioning and blatantly roaring, I want to ask, Who in the f..k are you to judge? I want to blurt with no intended niceties, "have you looked in the mirror?" We each have a story and we each act the way we do because of it. Instead of people askin...