When I cross people on the street, sit next to them on the bus – my mind wanders into little stories about how they got there and where they are going. Some people don’t let you imagine. Some people smell like 76 open bottles of beer on the wall and slur up to you telling you a nice little spanish girl shouldn’t be hanging out with a white girl. I’m so thankful that only happened once. So a few people win the lottery, others learn to love, little boys get puppies for Christmas. (Most of my stories are *really* sugar coated!)

*blech* I’m not wasting my time on filth and anger…

Little stories, poetic lyrics, love triangles (though I don’t like to be *in* them,) haunted houses and full lives – I love ‘em. Confidence, don’t mistake that one for ego. Appetizers, intelligent conversation, and my newest penchant strawberry wine! It’s not babble… my mind just likes to wander. And all I wanted to say was maybe I like lyrics because I like those poetic stories – brevity set to music. Something I can’t do, and I don’t want to.