The Need For An Outlet

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I've always been a writer (sometimes fingerpainting is writing). I've always needed some form of expression, and because I can't draw or paint (other than the fingerpainting, of course, and let's face it, there is only room for a limited amount of handprint turkeys on the refrigerator) and my musical talent is suspect, I've been left to the written (typed) word. And really, my life is chock full of ridiculous - I work with brides, I've been randomly in and out of college for six years, stuff just kind of happens to me, and let's not get into the family and friends. At least not yet. Point is, I have kind of a lot going on, and lately I haven't wanted to do much about it. I feel like at the very least I should attempt to be more than just a passenger on this little speck of rock hurdling through space (TM Brock). And even if I can't be more than a passenger, maybe I can at least, like, pay more attention. Enter, the blog.

Inspiration comes in funny places. I don't remember the last time I felt compelled to chronicle anything, and I've had a big couple of years. Suddenly, awesomely, two weeks ago in a movie theater it found me. Movie night, nothing too exciting playing, Dale and I wander in to 10000 BC at the Alamo. The Circle of Awesome (TM...Shytles? Or TWoP? Not sure there.) was complete. Somehow, this film about...mammoths? And a sabertooth tiger the size of a VW bus and some giant birds, and I think there was a love story? Anyway, it sparked something. It reminded me how very very very much I adore the ridiculous. Which is beautiful because a lot of the time, that's all I have to hang on to. I have no idea if I'll ever care enough to keep up with it, or if anyone else will ever find these things remotely as amusing as I do. But there you have it- blog. Enjoy it or leave.

Kisses.

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