The screen door slams…
Mary's dress sways…

Like a vision she dances across the porch as the radio plays
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely
Hey, that's me – and I want you only
Don't turn me home again –
I just can't face myself alone again…
Don't run back inside, darlin',
You know just what I'm here for
So you're scared
And you're that maybe we ain't that young – anymore
Show a little faith! – there's magic in the night…
You ain't a beauty, but, hey, you're alright
Oh, and that's alright with me…

You can hide 'neath your covers and study your pain
Make crosses from your lovers, throw roses in the rain
Waist your summer prayin' in vain
For a savior to rise from these streets
Well, now, I'm no hero – that's understood
All the redemption I can offer, girl, is beneath this dirty hood
With a chance to make it good, somehow
Hey – what else – can we – do now?
Except – roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair…
Well, the night's bustin' open
These two lanes will take us aaa-nnnny-where
We got one last chance to make it real
To trade in these wings-on-some-wheels
Climb in back
Heaven's waiting down on the track…

Oh, oh, come take my hand
We're riding out tonight – to case the Promised Land
Oh oh, oh
Oh, Thunder Road!
Oh, Thunder Road!
Oh, Thunder Road!
Lying out there, like a killer in the sun!
Hell, I know it's late – we can make it if we run!
Ooh…
Oh oh, oh, oh Thunder Road
Hang tight! Take hold!
Thunder Road!

Well, I got this guitar and I learned how to make it talk…
Yeah, my car is out back, if you're ready to take
That lo-ooo-ong walk
From your front porch to my front seat
The door's open – but the ride, it ain't free
Now, I know you're lonely for words that I ain't spoken
But tonight, we'll be free – all the promises will be broken
There were ghosts in the eyes of all the boys you sent away
They hunt this dusty beach road in the skeleton frames
Of burnt out Chevrolets
They scream your name at night in the street
Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet
And in the lonely cool before dawn –
You hear their engines roaring on
But when you get to the porch, they're gone on the wind…
So, Mary, climb in:

It's a town full of losers
We're pulling out of here to wiiiiiin

I think I most definitely will need to do a Born to Run album review soon.

I find it interesting these days when I talk to others about relationships and what they hope for in love. This is largely because how I understand the concept has very radically changed from simply half a year or a year ago.

It’s interesting to see, almost, the way that these concepts of a relationship are continually painted as being very easy, natural, and almost as if expected.

“You can all fall in love; it just is a matter of time.”

Or my favorite is the one where the two walk past each other and just happen to be struck by this realization. It’s nice, and it’s sweet, it really is (my voice is actually not supposed to be heavily sarcastic right now like it usually tends to be).

But you go through enough relationships and you realize it really isn’t like that. Actually, they’re just at the surface and there’s a depth more to look through.

Hmm, how can I properly get these thoughts across? I suppose it’s the difference from entering a relationship thinking of an end and then entering a relationship knowing it probably won’t work out. Heh, it sounds somewhat downing yet that’s the fact of the matter. The point of dating is for enjoying the moments that happen. As I’ve said previously, my past exes do share an importance and a lot of that does lie it the memories they’ve given me and the lessons they’ve taught me. There are people I adore because of what I’ve learned about them during that time of higher intimacy.

But it probably won’t last. Usually won’t. And you’ve got to understand that. In all brutal honesty, I expect that I won’t end up with anyone in the end. And I’m alright with that. Not everything ideal in life works out. As soon as I get capable of supporting myself and others firmly with no fear of otherwise, if not involved with anyone else, I’m going to adopt. I’m not going to slow my life around this.

Now, of course, this is a worst case scenario. To what degree things lean in that direction regardless, it’s the point you realize that the past moments and connections were very much worth it and understanding that clinging and expecting all payout from the Goal and final ending is unrealistic.

The other aspect is knowing what to expect in a relationship and from the person. When we’re young, we have basic expectations. Generally, they’re very, very minimal. As things go on, they may get slightly more specific. They need to be gentle, caring, smart, etc. etc.

But we don’t think about the little things in the relationship.
     Are things awkward when you’re with zir (gender-neutral pronoun; think “him or her”) or do they flow in a way that’s satisfying for both people?
     Do the cons outweigh or are totally not bothering to us or do the pros outweigh (we’re so used to thinking ze’ll be so perfect there will be nothing which you dislike. Hehe…think again)?
     Can ze support you? Meaning, is ze enough to keep you sustained or are you left wanting more, feeling like something’s missing?
     Better yet, can you recognize when it’s that you’re missing something and when it’s simply that you’re being naïve or expecting more than ze can give you or than you ought to expect realistically?

The common theme between all of the above? They’re gray areas. And they’ve all been even simplified here. They’re far more complex, individual, and dependent on specific situations that I cannot begin to even think of them all. Further, I’ve only listed 5, which is a far lower amount of those gray areas than there are.

A relationship – while I largely do still believe, and will continue to argue, that a relationship is very much flowers and compliments and cute gifts – is the nitty gritty. It’s “Does this bother you?” It’s making sure you’re able to properly articulate what bothers you to the other person (which is a lot harder than you’d think) and both of you being able to handle it. It’s making sure you’re open to each other and making sure you both work to making the relationship work. It’s the boring little details that are more than just gazing at each other lovingly or teasing and laughing with each other.

Again, I stress, those things are not unimportant – rather, they’re as important as the other stuff I’ve added. But you must have both in must, must deal with both, when dealing with a relationship.

And when you’ve realized this – well, I find that this difficult, irritating, tiresome and energy draining, time consuming, complex ordeal is all the more astounding. It’s all the more worthwhile. Hats off to those who manage to make it work, because it’s quite a daunting task which I’m not even sure I’ll ever accomplish.

Suddenly that person is all the more dynamic. Suddenly that the two of you work is more puzzling, more thankful and enjoyable. Alright, I think that’s enough of abstracts that are failing to get across what I’m trying to say anyway (hence why the list of them). I can’t really get at what it’s like.

But it’s that weird moment when you aren’t actually bothered by the difficulty or that the odds are stacked against you. I don’t look at relationship with this expectation to “succeed” anymore – I just want a glimpse of the person I’m involved with (and, hopefully, to have that develop even further and further into a solid friendship) and to have no regrets come that crash. If things are gonna burn out in flames, I want those flames to be so fierce and bright that those at a distance are taken in awe. Let me get wasted out and remind me that I’m alive, that I feel – that it all actually meant something, that’s why it hurts so damn bad.

Now, obviously, that’s not the ideal ending. Ideally, if things do end, they should end on a peaceful note. But don’t just waste it. Don’t mourne because it ended, or maybe unhappy because it wasn’t more, that it didn’t end up being love but just maybe two weeks – appreciate that nonetheless. It meant something, does mean something.

A friend asked me what I wanted in a companion. I responded:

And, in light of this, I understand that, really, so simplistic of wanting for a relationship and in a person is difficult to acheive. But that’s what makes it so damn amazing. That really doesn't explain it. But I'm starting to think that in order to understand, you've just got to witness it yourself.

A related video. If only all pop stuff this complex and non-simplistic (or formulaic) – basically, intelligent – and I might not actually hate the stuff so much then.

And, because who doesn't need a bit of Scrubs all the time?

Me in a nutshell
---
There was one time I was talking with my mother and she was listing off which girls of certain races (in some instances, religions) she would love if I went out with (because this is the type of stuff she does). Either myself or my brother asked about if I went out with Muslim girl. My mother's response was, "No, never. Those people are crazy."

My brother and I are confused.

Actually, to this day, I'm still confused. Now, I know my mother is racist. On multiple accounts, actually. However, while she will wax eloquently often enough on certain fortunate enough souls, usually follows of Islam (or, in her vast understanding, the entirety of the Middle East) are not targets.

Also, I know my mother is capable of decent rational thought. She can exercise that, I swear. Which is why my brain is literally unable to compute this situation. I mean - it just does not logically make sense. As a rational and thinking animal...how do you possibly come up with this? Surely you can't possibly think that a few extremists constitutes a full people, right?? And, further, if I were dating a Muslim, they'd probably be raised in America, right (if you can't get over the concept of the entire Middle East does not equal people of insanity)??

And, yes, I understand that some people don't actually constantly apply reason and logic to their daily actions and thinking and their actions cannot be expected to make sense - but, but - I do. And I cannot understand how you can honestly believe that they're "crazy" without your brain imploding. Yes, illogical thought does that!
---
     "You stopped me because you were so empty, like a cavern impeding in upon itself, and you were so stark a testament of the depth that life was willing to go."
     She looked up at me, then quickly back at her right hand, using the left to push her glasses back up her nose.
     "But shouldn't I be happy?"
     I laughed. "Yes. The greatest part is healing. I just want to be there, though - from the beginning. I want to see you at your most breathtaking and awing."
---
We, as a society, attach such significance to doing what's right and being an upstanding person. Which, to an extent, I find kinda funny. Because we only do it because so many people just never bother.

Despite all the temptation, humans remain flexible and completely controllable creatures. The most fascinating thing about being human is that once you gain awareness of yourself, you can do just about anything with yourself.

Doing what's right doesn't take much. It might take practice (many years of perfecting), but doing the right thing just once takes no effort but deciding to do it.

The change starts with you, and only you can do it.
---
Got back from the Translating Identities Conference 2 days ago, a conference specifically for Trans issues. It was rather amazing, though I'm drained.

And, in a bit of a related fashion, a girl in a formal suit is to die for.
---
The crazed pacing
With the racing placement
Of a pulsing amazement
That this time may hold attainment
Is a rare occasion
When you've forsaken placin'
Yourself in the line of venture
Yet the stubs are entered
You deftly laugh despite the uncertain pressure
Yet know indefinitely that any quip she mentions
Will attain such frank attention
Your wish for a current pension
Is suspended - ended?
Well, at least for this present session
Pretention suspended
Too nervous anyway for the mask to question
Every aspect of this willed convention
Still concerned that initial intentions
Will change in less time than the last impression
The seats filled empty 'cept the last couple to enter
Your eyes are forward, but your mind is centered
The entire flick upon whether
You should take her hand or wait your measure
You leave the way you entered
Hold the door for her, yet in the car still feel the stressors
Now your hands are shaking
Your mind is racing
To say some bit of conversation
Now her house you're facing
Walk the walkway, bracing
In the end - you're wondering what's been through her mind already

I thought I understood rhyme; Rakim laughs at me.
---
I can understand if you dislike school, but if you're still asking what's the point by around my age, I'm going to start worrying about you (in a non-loving manner). I can understand if you might question people's assumptions on its necessity for you to do well in life, I can understand if you question how they teach it or the system or what they focus too much on and not enough on, etc. but if you honestly don't think there isn't a merit to much of what they teach you...? History is important - if I need to invoke the cliché old saying or have to actually explain why this is so to you, I've lost all respect for you (it's harsh and I'm almost always never firm one way or the other - that should tell you something).
---
I think that wanting - no, needing - to create art and being unable to do so in at least an adequate fashion is more cruel a suffering than 19 (going on 20) years of depression.
---
     Jonathan looked out the window of the moving bus, avoiding focusing on the kids in his background. He'd let Kaz handle that.
     It seemed that's what Kaz had always been better that. Not that he'd stoop to their level, consider himself an equal amongst those dwarf demons. Jonathan wouldn't have been able to tolerate him otherwise. Rather, Kaz knew how to deal with it all, the crushing weight of the raining children this world seemed intent on pouring out. He might be a fan of contraception just for this reason, but his liberal ideals kept him from supporting this possible cure.
     No matter what, Jonathan would probably always respect Kaz for that.
     He watched the local elementary school rise over the hill they were driving up. Jonathan stumbled (while standing in place), completely shocked.
     "Kaz! What are you doing?" he shouted, turning towards his partner. "We stole this bus from that school! We're gonna get caught!"
     Kaz didn't look in his direction for a moment, his eyes intently upon the road. "Relax," he told Jonathan, his voice fixed and transposed.
     Despite this, Jonathan looked like he was about to tear out his hair (his lifelong commitment to growing his beard, however, may have caused him to only rip the hair from the scalp).
     His eyes still fixed on the road, Kaz sighed at his partner's rigid frame. "I checked Mapquest before I stole this. We ought to go back this way to get there. We'll be fine. We're in a bus. No one can stop us now."
     Jonathan's arms slumped. He went to the front seat that didn't have a cretin sitting in it and leaned his head against the window. Someone had stuck their gum into a wedge in the window, another had drawn with a permanent marker on the metal below the window frame. Jonathan shook his head, bitter at the waste of opportunity they were given.
     He breathed heavily, fogging up the window. Kaz was right (as he always was). He took comfort in the murky white he had made the window, a heterogenous mix.

     The precise cleanliness of it was what made it off putting. They said it was so that you wouldn't get sick. The instruments. They'd clean the instruments. Syringes, the trays. He wouldn't be surprised to learn they wiped the pills clean with a cloth, each one individually.
     It's irritating. Dear God - it...is...irritating. That damn squeaking. He'd ask them to stop and they just keep doing it. Oh, it's not that bad - like Hell if you know if it's that bad! It's 'cause they polish those damn floors all the time, always mopping, always waxing. The drone of monotonous squeaking, all day - by the nurses and the doctors. And, if you spend enough time in the place, they convince the patients they should wear their damn rubber shoes as well; and then they squeak.
     The glass was shiny, consistently clear and without smudge. They held that needle over him just to make him squirm, he was sure. "It's for your health." Yeah right.
     He'd sit there at night, unceasingly searching the ceiling for dirt, a cobweb maybe - anything. He had found some, once. In a corner, somewhere.
     It was supposed to kill germs. It was mandatory. "I don't want it!" They tied him down. There wasn't going to be a choice.
     Ohh, God, did it feel so good. He had rubbed it all over him. In a corner, tucked away. Jimmy had asked what he had, had asked, had asked. Full moon, he remembered. Shining so bright. By the pale moonlight he took it out from under the pillow where had hidden it. So refreshing, so nice. Mold, beautiful mold, all over.
     The door had busted open so loud. But he didn't notice. No, not until they grabbed him, forced him down. He tried to eat it, embody it. He'd be different than all of them; he'd have mold in his belly.
     He winced as the needle broke the skin. Bye-bye germs.

One soft infested summer, me and Terry became friends
Trying in vain to breathe the fire we was born in
Catchin' rides to the outskirts, tying faith between our teeth
Sleeping in that old abandoned beach house, getting wasted in the heat...

And hiding on the backstreets
Hiding on the backstreets
With a love so hard and filled with defeat
Running for our lives at night on them backstreets

Slow dancing in the dark on the beach at Stockton's Wing
Where desperate lovers park, we sat with the last of the Duke Street Kings
Huddled in our cars, waiting for the bells that ring
In the deep heart of the night, they set us loose of everything

To go running on the backstreets
Running on the backstreets
Terry, you swore we'd live forever
Taking it on them backstreets together

Endless juke joints and Valentino drag
Where famous dancers scraped the tears up off the street, dressed down in rags
Running into the darkness, some hurt bad, some really dying
At night sometimes it seemed you could hear the whole damn city crying...
Blame it on the lies that killed us - blame it on the truth that ran us down
You can blame it all on me, Terry, it don't matter to me now
When the breakdown hit at midnight, there was nothing to say:
But I hated him - ...and I hated you when you went away...

Laying here in the dark, you're like an angel on my chest...
Just another tramp of hearts crying tears of faithlessness...
Remember all the movies, Terry, we'd go see?
Trying to learn to walk like the heroes - we thought we had to be!
And after all this time, we find we're just like all the rest -
Stranded in the park - and forced - to - confess - to!

Hiding on the backstreets...
Hiding on the backstreets...
Where we swore forever friends
On the backstreets until the end...

Hiding on the backstreets...
Hiding on the backstreets...
Hiding on the backstreets...
Hiding on the backstreets...

XXX

I really want to do a post of just a long, long list of Bruce lyrics...I probably will at some point, if I know me...

If you want a rather precise and exact reason why I hate pop music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M11SvDtPBhA.

Also...this is why I love my friends:

Kristina has added this Bumper Sticker!

Yesterday at 6:08pm via Bumper Sticker

Breann Lee Enno likes this.

 

View all 4 comments

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

WHAT IS THIS ABOMINATION?!?!?!?!?
about an hour ago

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

This means *war* MS. KITTELSON!

about an hour ago

Kristina Rae Kittelson

Oh, Schmelly.
Bring. It. On. :]

about an hour ago

 

 

 

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling: A flute player and a fiddle player were standing on a sinking ship. "Help!" cried the fiddle player, "I can't swim!"//"Don't worry," said the flute player, "just fake it."

55 minutes ago · Comment · Like / Unlike

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

What does a clarinet and a lawsuit have in common?
Everyone is relieved when the case is closed. :]

52 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

What's the definition of a minor second?

Two floutists playing in unison.

49 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

How do you know when a clarinet player is at your house?
They don't know where to enter or what key to use.

47 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

How many floutists does it take to change a lightbulb?

Six -- One to get the chair to stand on, one to stand on the chair and actually screw it in, one to pull the chair out from under her, and three more to complain about how much better they could have done it.

46 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

ACTUALLY, it only takes one flute player to screw in a lightbulb.
She sits on her throne and the world rotates around her. ;]

What is the difference between a clarinet and an onion?
Nobody cries when you chop a clarinet into pieces.

[WE ARE NOT SERIOUSLY SPENDING OUR TUESDAY AFTERNOON DOING THIS. xDD]

44 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jackie Norwell

i don't get it...

43 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

[I haven't spent any day for the past year doing something this worthwhile]

What is perfect pitch on a flute?

When it misses the rim of the toilet as you throw it in.

43 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

[...And this is worthwhile. xD You're fighting a losing battle, Schmelly. ;D]

How do you stop a flute from being stolen?
You put it in a clarinet case.

41 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

[psh...nonsense; we know the superior instrument here]

What's do you call a Flute at attention?

Gay. God knows, it certainly isn't *straight*.

39 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

[OOH NO YOU DIDN'T. D<]

How do you know a clarinetist is playing loud?
You can ALMOST hear them.

37 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

[You can hear us just fine!]

Where do flutists do all their practicing?

When the director works with the trumpets (not that they don't spend 90 percent of that time talking).

33 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

[Yeah, with a microphone and hearing aides. Sometimes.]

Is there any difference between the sound of a clarinet and the cat in heat?
Yes, if the cat's in good health.

30 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

Did you hear about the flautist who was so out of tune her section noticed?

Me either.

28 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

What do you need when the clarinetists are up to their necks in concrete?
More concrete.

26 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

How many flute players does it take to change a light bulb?

Just one, but she'll have to twist it back and forth for an hour to make sure she gets it just right.

24 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

How many clarinetists does it take to change a lightbulb?

One, but he'll spend an hour looking through the box for JUST the right lightbulb.

22 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Michael Connors

Because I'm impartial, but can't stay out of a band debate:

 

How do you know when a clarinetist has died?

The conductor moves them back a chair...

 

What do you call a good flute section?

Impossible

19 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

[touché]

Why don't most wind symphony pieces have tempo changes in them?

There are already plenty of ritard.s in the flutes.

18 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

Mike, we're closer kin than you are to the Flutes; keep that in your conscience.

16 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

What is a gentleman?
Someone who knows how to play the clarinet, but doesn't.

Now... I'd love to keep doing this, but I have to do my homework and eat dinner... before stadium rehearsal tonight. DDDx
Schmelly, why are we such band geeks?

15 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Michael Connors

yeah, I'm not really impartial...so

What's the difference between a flutist and a seamstress?

A seamstress tucks the frills.
(switch the "t" and "f" if you don't get it...)

15 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

Because we're the definition of amazing and Band culture is total win?

Honestly, there is no family quite like a band is.

13 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Kristina Rae Kittelson

xDD You are quite right, Schmelly.

Waitwait. One more.

If lost in the woods, who do you ask for directions, an in-tune sax player, an out-of-tune sax player, or Santa Claus?
The out-of-tune sax player. The other two indicate that you're hallucinating.

OKAY. OFF TO DO MY HOMEWORK NOWWW. <333

12 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Michael Connors

Replace sax with flutes for the truth...
and what other family could be as ... "special" as a band family?

But I wouldn't trade it for anything!

11 minutes ago · Delete

 

 

Jonathan Robert Schmeling

absolutely. It never ends to amuse me that despite our little in-family bickering, it's only because we're the three prominant leaders of the Woodwind faction - and we always know we'll stick together when it comes to the Brass.

8 minutes ago · Delete

Damned Hell, I had wanted to find sheet music for For You during the summer, not far after it had finished. Of course, this reminder led me to listening to some tracks and...geez, you forget how unnerving he can be. If you like raw rock, this is just downright gorgeous.

Beneath...the city...
     two hearts beat
Soul engines running through a night so tender...
In a bedroom, locked
In whispers of soft
     confusion...and then
     ...surrender
In the tunnels uptown...the Rat's own dream guns him down
Shots echo down them hallways in the night...
No one watches as an ambulance pulls away

Or as the girl shuts out the bedroom light...

Outside, the streets are on fire -
     in a real death-waltz -
Between what's flesh and what's fantasy
And the poets down here don't write nothing at all -
     they just stand back and let it all be

And in the quick of a knife - they reach for their moment
     and try to take an honest stand
But they wind up wounded...not even dead...

Tonight...
     in...
          Jun-
               gle
                    Land!

Well, there's a dark cloud rising from the desert storm
I've packed my bags and I'm heading straight into the storm
Gonna be a twister to blow everything down
And I ain't got - the faith - to stand it's ground

Blow away!
     the dreams that tear you apart
Blow away!
     the dreams that break your heart
Blow away!
     the lies that leave you nothing but lost and broken-hearted...

So, oh, ohh - come take my hand
We're riding out tonight to case the Promise Land
Oh, oh - ohh, Thunder Road
     oh, Thunder Road, Thunder Road...
Lying out there, like a killer in the sun!
Baby, I know it's late - but we can make it, if we run
Oh, oh, oh - oh, Thunder Road
     Sit tight - take hold!
Thunder Road!

Well now, some folks are born into a good life
And other folks get it anyway, anyhow
Well now, I lost my money and I lost my wife
But them things don't seem to matter much to me now

Tonight I'll be on that hill!
     'cause I can't stop...
I'll be on that hill
     with everything that I've got
Lives on the line!
     Where dreams are found and lost!
I'll be there on time!
     And I'll pay the cost
For wanting things - that can - on-ly - be - found...

In the Darkness on the edge of town

Outside, inside - wherever you may be: Rosie! Come out tonight!

http://houston.culturemap.com/newsdetail/08-01-10-is-there-a-haunting-suicide-in-bruce-springsteen-past-songs-20-11/
http://houston.culturemap.com/newsdetail/08-08-10-the-top-best-bruce-springsteen-songs-of-all-time-and-a-beckoning-HBO-Boss-documentary/
(all 200 hundred of the songs have the author criticize the bad and bring up the good, so I gave you the page for where the last 20 greats by him starts; it's not a long read (and I kinda freaked a little when he gave Wild Billy's Circus Story a low rating), but totally worth it)

I'm a Good Ol' Yankee
Oh, I'm a good ol' Yankee; now that's just what I am
And for the irons of slav'ry, I do not care to stand
Threat against pride and living* has soaked our land in blood
But hear that sor'id bondage? I regret not what I done...

I loves this 'Mer'can nation, land of the free and brave
I loves this Yankee nation, though it may bring my grave
I loves the glor'ous Union, pray never may it part
And, yes, I love ol' Dixie, so I swear upon my heart...

I cried from news of Lincoln and cursed the traiter Booth
I fought Bullrun with fervor as ardor passed with youth
Can't regrow limbs from Gettys, though some be sure's yearning
And I recall the rebel cries as Atlanta was set to burning

Men sewed their clothes with cotton; 'tis dripping with slave blood
For cents men crafted mountains, deep ridges in their "mud"
And then men sat there wond'ring they chased the specter gourd
Said too dumb to weild a gun - until we won the war

I fought for the ol' Union, all 38 good states
Now should I find her broken, I pray my soul too break
United, not divided, I hope forever more
And for this great Republic, I'll gladly see God's door

Oh, I'm a good ol' Yankee; now that's just what I am
And for the irons of slav'ry, I do not care to stand
Threat against pride and living has soaked our land in blood
But hear that sor'id bondage? I regret not what I done...

*occupation

8-29-2010 to 8-30-2010 7:54 P. M.

If I were to be gone, just gone, the next morning - what would you say of me? What would be the lasting image I gave you as a person? Would it be possitive? Might it be negative? Would it be someone who mostly was nice but had a few annoying, rude habits about them? I try to avoid that; I swear I do.

I've had the oddest craving for "Roxanne" by The Police the past couple of days. I remember when I first ever heard the song, I couldn't understand why anyone would listen to it.

Well, I futzed a little bit around with the layout, as you might be able to tell (I admit, while the Subscriptions tab in the home page simplifies things greatly and makes it easier to check up on everything in one place, it leaves the whole point of a layout and design really pointless, because people barely see it, other than those few seconds to comment a post).

To remove the issue of the difficulty to read the posts, I moved the picture to the right side. Also, I was kinda irritated by the fact that you could only hear the music on one page. I know some people complain about music just starting up when you reach a page, but - seriously? One, that's just an aspect of the site. It's as important as the text colors and visuals you find on the page to articulating the mood, message, whatever of the layout. Plus what would you expect when going to a site of a peer-to-peer website? Also, computers were made with volume buttons for a reason. But anyway.

As far as the whole content of the layout, and what I had wanted to communicate with it, the song was important. "Can I Live" is a very poetic and reflective review of life and it fits beautifully with the layout.

However, in my attempt to get a playlist of songs (some of which, admittingly, don't entirely fit the message of the layout), I had to transfer the custom module to the Main Content area. Well, despite what the theme page says, I found after saving the changes with the player in the footer section that it still works. So, you can still pause the player (if it so bothers you, though you have to be on the main page) and it still plays on every page. The players, unfortunately, covers the picture if you scroll to the way bottom (despite my attempts at messing around with the code to get it in the center), but it's a short price to pay.

My only real worry is the picture. I'm curious what you guys think - visually, does it work? Regardless of what works best for being able to read the page, etc., does it visually look okay all the way on the right, there? All things considered. Thanks.