Housekeeping

I was just wandering around here this evening, and I can tell you that this place needs a swift stiff broom and some fresh air.

Unfortunately all I have right now is a nice stiff martini and a lot of hot air.

But after reading this and that spanning almost three years, I realize that's exactly what I like about my writing. Yeah, I said that. "I like my writing." I also like my singing voice, and I like pictures of myself that don't make me look old or fat. Thank God for photoshop on the last one.

I'm going to write for awhile again, and for the time being, I'm disabling comments. I'll put an e-mail address at the end if you really want to bitch at me, but I can't come back here and do what I do if I'm waiting to see what you'll say about it.

But I'm going to start writing again because my life is a freaking whirlwind. I'm only remotely surprised when my husband says, "yes, please take off work and drive across the country with that British guy".

And you know you want to hear about that, right?

Yeah? Bugger off then... I sure as hell want to write about it... plus I want to pick up more British insults like twat and fecker.

This is Funky, and that is all.


Okay... so I can't remember my Haloscan password. But I'm NOT reading comments. Okay, I'll read them, maybe... but I'm NOT going to acknowledge that I read them. Nope. Not gonna read 'em.

Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner

Last night I was minding my own business, goofing off in flickr, when suddenly the url to this blog shows up in a group chat I'm dancing around in.

Just the url

And yeah, my heart stopped for a brief second. And I can't really say why. I think it's because while I can't bring myself to delete this space or the words of the last few years, I'm not really sure I want to claim ownership of them either.

In the year or so (more like two) since I stopped being little miss semi-pro blogger, I've become another person altogether.

Not sure I like her though... but I digress.

I explained in that little chat that I never blog anymore... that I stopped because I ran out of things to say. To which at least one person mocked me.

That's true though. The fire died, and took all my words to the grave.

I thought about coming in here tonight and quickly removing the evidence of who I was before I was found... but I can't do it. Nobody has the right to make me go into hiding. Nobody has the power to put baby in a corner unless she lets them.

And I'm tired of letting them.
Tired of letting him.

Once upon a time I let 30+ years of my life be ripped from me... and I let someone fill all the spaces and holes that were left in me. And now I'm so dependent on being whole because of that person, that I don't know how to be whole without him.

If a funky bug ever had any wisdom to begin with, she would have recognized that.

As it stands, she's trying to come to terms with it now.
That's a start, yes?

This is Funky, and that is all.