The Life and Times of a Part Time Dreamer....

... Her bare feet softly pressed into the sun warmed soil as she once again made the journey through the many fragrances and blooms of her cherished garden. The Lilly's, the sun flowers, huge lilacs, and wild flowers that grew freely where ever space would allow. The breeze gently blew her white sun dress around her legs and her wide brimmed sun hat drooped to hide her face. She had been here among her flowers all day but she wished to visit her roses one last time. It was nearly sun down and the evening had just begun to cool from the summers heat. At last she reached the roses. Large velvety splashes of color colored every bush. She couldn't resist burying her nose in one of the rich beautiful blossoms and inhaling the glorious sent. she gently stroked her cheek against it's satin petals, cradling the blossom in both of her fair hands. She replaced the rose and reached for another higher up. The bushes towered higher than she was tall and covered every wall of the garden....

The sun. How many beautiful things are only here on earth because of the sun? It greets us at first light and shines all day, it warms our toes and breaths life into everything around us. The plants, the animals, even the people feel the difference when the sun is out. I love to stand bare foot in the sun warmed earth and let it shine on my face. It wakes me up and makes me grateful for the beauty of the world I live in. I belong here. Here among the warm breeze and smell of pine. Here where the world can't touch me, where only the sun the earth and the trees exist and live together in perfect balance. The world does it's best to control everything, the way we dress, the way we talk, what our job is, who we're supposed to be, the climate, what we read, what we watch, even how we think about things and other people. Man is desperate to gain control of everything, even other men. People complain about the weather, the weeds, the wild life. It's too uncivilized, too dirty,...

And so we continue on our insane exploration of what exactly happened on Choir tour. who's driving this nut bus anyway?! Lets recap, After whale watching ( the invisible whales and several visible dolphins) and getting as sandy ad possible we piled back on our big red bus and headed back to the hotel. We primped and beautified getting as much sea water smell off as possible so we could continue our day with an attendance of a dinner show. we attended a performance of Eva by Andrew Lloyd Webber. we were served an excellent dinner before the show and more soda then we could ever drink. (Every one at my table had to get up to pee sometime during the performance). It was well done, I think, I'm not an expert, but the voices were good and the play was entertaining though a bit dark for my taste it has by no means a happy ending. afterwords all 39 of us girls invaded a grocery store. We couldn't go anywhere without making an entrence. So as half of us sleepily wandered the isles...

" There is no half singing in the shower, you're either a Rock star or an Opera diva."~ Josh Groban Whether it's Rubbery Ducky or Carmen, whether you can hit the high notes or can't carry a tune in a bucket, everybody sings in the shower! What is it that makes the shower the best place to sing? is it the sound of our voices vibrating off the walls of our tiled stage? perhaps it's the fantasy that when the shower door closes nobody can hear you. regardless of the reason we as humans can never resists the temptation to belt it when behind the shower curtains. sometimes when stretching to reach those high notes or trying my best to grind out those low notes I stop and wonder if those real rock stars and opera divas sing in the shower. And if they do, do they sing as they would on stage, or do they sing like those weirdos out there (including myself) and try all kinds of funny voices? I for one feel that if your just humming to your self or mumbling a l...

So I fully intend to put up the rest of tour here very soon. But sadly the end of the school year rush has begun and I'm finding it very hard to get motivated. people are graduating and teachers are cramming and to be honest I kind of want to tie some balloons to my house and escape. Imagine all the helium! I'd be a super soprano for a month! :) any way just thought I'd give you a heads up and make every one feel a little happier because who wouldn't want a cloud of balloons tied to their house. if every one brings a balloon we might just be able to escape! peace out everyone !!

39 nine teen girls, 16 hours, and a very uncomfortable bus = complete and total chaos!!!!! I have officially returned from tour ( I actually came back on Tuesday but I I needed some turn around time before I was willing to admit that I am really all here) My beautiful and angelic choir known as the Belcantos took a four day trip down to LA to participate in the festival of gold ( an invitation only choir competition) and to get to share the beautiful music we had been perfecting all year with new people. So at the decidedly late hour of 10pm Thursday night all 46 of us ( chaperone's, director, and pianist included) we piled on a large red bus and began a very memorable trip. Now the first thing we need to realize is that sleep is impossible when you are surrounded by friends in the first place, but when the Director stands and tells us all that ,it's lights out or he'll put our lights out, most of us tend to obey. Now I pride myself in being able to sleep better in a movi...

This is a piece of writing I turned into our school literature book. It's a memoir of my experiences at the real Lake View Park. The setting of the rainy day isn't real but it gave the piece the feel I wanted. Enjoy. The rain tickles through the leaves of the tree tapping my umbrella with unsure fingers. My rain coat squeaks as I move. The smell of the wet leaves and dirt bring back so many memories of playing in puddles and running in the mud. The vacant playset sways in the breeze. The paint chipped merry go round and swings beckon to be played on. The ducks playing in the canal just over the small hill, can be heard splashing and swimming in the spring shower. I am alone, my blue Grand-am the only car in the lot. I run my hand over the wet bark of the huge birch I stand under. Even now I still can’t put my arms all the way around its’ large trunk. “It’s been too long.” I murmur to myself as I trace the rough patterns of the bark. I watch the water pool on the leaf strewn asp...