Between Deadlines

WNL-XIII: "I am torn in the middle of a world that won't let loose"

2008-05-08T05:39:36Z

This song is the 31st most played among my 2,443 songs on iTunes. That should tell you something about the song. It's about 32 minutes late for Wednesday night, at least here in the central time zone. That should tell you something about how busy my life has been lately.

I don't think you know how much time I spend
As I wait on my own contemplating ends
I am torn in the middle of a world that won't let loose
I hang here before you, though invisible the noose
I love you if you drink; I love you if you smoke
I love you for the words you stuck inside my throat
I love you for the sin; and the way you turned away
And I'll heal you in the darkness; and I'll hold you to the day
All you are now is only just a dream
Can you fall down in following me?
All you are now is only just a dream
Can you fall down in following me?
And I walk up those steps where we used to go at night
And my fingers trace the stairwell and I am back in time
I just need your warmth to lay with me and find
All you are now is only just a dream
Can you fall down in following me?
All you are now is only just a dream
Can you fall down in following me?
There are days that I go driving, when the memory gets too strong
So I can go on living to the beauty of our song
I fall in to your rhythm, your beauty I do fly
I rush into your melody, I linger till I die
All you are now is only just a dream
Can you fall down in following me?
All you are now is only just a dream
Can you fall down in following me?
And I've been here with the pain since the very first day
I've been swearing in my rage "Oh Holy Day!"
I sit around, your salvation waits
I'm just getting nervous, babe, as I anticipate
All you are now is only just a dream
Can you fall down in following me?
All you are now is only just a dream
Can you fall down in following me?
Just A Dream
Griffin House

(Here's the link to the song if the embeded player doesn't load.)

WNL-XII

2008-05-01T00:03:28Z

I know the name of this project is Wednesday Night Lyrics. However, there are some songs out there where words would only serve as a distraction. The melody, the tempo and the instrumentation join to tell the story instead. I think tonight's song fits perfectly into that category, so please forgive me as I deviate from normal programming just a bit.

This week's song is Lane's Theme by Bill Conti from the movie "8 Seconds." The movie came out in 1994, which was one of the big years in my life. I lost two grandparents that year. I got my first truck. I took my first big trip alone -- to Space Academy. I took Megan Adams to see 8 Seconds. I wrecked my first truck. So often, life seems to be on cruise control and it's hard to tell if the world is moving or not. But then, a period of time comes along where you experience so much change that you practically see it as it happens. 1994 was one of those years for me. I came out of it much different than I went in.

(Here's the link to the song if the embeded player doesn't load.)

A mommy with the body of a stripper!

2008-03-14T23:55:41Z

In case you missed it, here is Cowboy Mouth on Regis & Kelly.

This performance might not win you over -- it's on TV and I think they're a little out of their element... but this band still needs to be on your "acts to see live" list. Everything about this band rocks when they're live and in person. I'm already planning to see two shows this summer.

Deadline Pressure Updated!

2007-12-04T10:51:20Z

Deadline Pressure updated!
"These are the hands that rubbed Megan Adams' knee while parked in my truck after my first real date. Strangely enough, they were under the direction of the same brain that was too chicken to tell my lips to kiss her."

Entry: [ 04 December 2007 ]

Public Post

2007-07-29T04:16:42Z

I walked down to the park last night
Warm breeze stirring up a soft moonlight
And my mind started drifting to way back when
Yes I do think about you every now and then
The other day I saw a car like you used to drive
I got a funny feeling down deep inside
And for the briefest moment I felt a smile begin
Yes I do think about you every now and then
I love my life and I'd never trade
Between what you and me had and the life I've made
She's here and she's real, but you were too
And every once in a while I think about you
I heard a song on the radio just yesterday
The same one you always asked me to play
And when the song was over
I wished they'd played it again
Yes I do think about you every now and then
I love my life and I'd never trade
Between what you and me had and the life I've made
She's here and she's real, but you were too
And every once in a while I think about you
I've been layin' here all night listenin' to the rain
Talkin' to my heart and tryin' to explain
Why sometimes I catch myself
Wondering what might have been
Yes I do think about you every now and then

Every Now And Then
Buddy Mundlock / Garth Brooks

I disappeared from your life for your own good. To be in your life without committing to it was selfish for me and, most of all, unfair to you. I miss you often. There's not a week that goes by that I don't think about you. Almost as often, I think of a reunion. I wonder if it would be happy or sad or angry -- hoping for anything but angry. Months have passed. I know you have moved on. To drop in and say hello now might be out of place. But I do miss you. I miss your smile. I miss your personality. I miss your friendship. Sure, I'm happy now. I have no room to complain. I have a wife and a cat and a house and a job and purpose. But rarely does happiness come without holes. Your being gone is a hole. I can not fill it with anything I have here. I left to protect you. I stay gone to protect us both. Carrying out the latter is proving much harder than the former.

Now, we're really married.

2006-12-31T07:25:44Z

I really wanted to write some long, drawn-out, Diarist Award-winning entry about yesterday and what it means to my future and the future of my marriage... But as you can tell by viewing my archives, I'm just don't have many those left in me.

Yesterday's big event? A month and a half after getting married, Jessie finally moved in for good. After making two 180-mile round trips in as many days, we packed up the last of her stuff, turned in her keys and made the trip home.

She'd lived in her old apartment more than six years -- almost as long as I've been writing online. It's been her base of operations and my place of refuge through a lot of eras in our lives individually and collectively. I have a feeling that this is where this whole marriage thing will get interesting.

It's official...

2006-12-26T01:01:59Z

Christmas is over. Twenty-four hours of "A Christmas Story" on TBS has ended.

Two Days, Two Entries

2006-12-22T05:56:50Z

I have no idea what the phrase "sick as a dog" means because, well, I've never really seen a dog that was all that sick. However, if there's a pooch out there with sinus pain, nasal congestion and runny nose, watery eyes, itchy ears and a generally cranky temperament... Then I am officially sick as a dog.

You've heard me lament about getting married during the holidays. CRAZY idea, I tell you. Sure, no one can believe that it's already the 21st of December, but it's especially hard for me. Last time I came up for air, it was the middle of November and I had a wedding bearing down on me. Now, I'm trying to come up for air and I can't breathe through my friggin' nose.

It feels like now that the holiday is here and I can attempt to enjoy it, I can't because I'm dying.

How can you have a nose that's runny and stopped up at the same time? That should be impossible somehow, shouldn't it? And, really, I think I could work past the abundance of useless snot and the lack of meaningful snot and the sensation that a snufalufagus was sitting on my forehead... What I can't work past is big damn tease my right nostril has turned into. Every five minutes, its starts to itch from top to bottom -- a prelude to a sneeze. Except, guess what? No friggin sneeze. Zilch. Nada. Nothing but disappointment and watery eyes. If I had any mascara, I'd be running laps around Tammy Faye.

In other news (only slightly), I'm dragging my sick ass to work tomorrow. I'm not one to avoid work for minor illness. After all, we have beds there. It's nothing to crash between runs and recuperate while on the clock. But this is now an intermediate illness and I really want to call in. However, the captain is out of state and I'm acting as officer and me calling in sick would force another captain or engineer to work extra during the holidays. I'm not out to give anyone the shaft at, this, the season of giving.

So, I endure. And I take these little orange pills. And I drink my 100% worth of Vitamin C in my glass of Tang. And I pray that some kid can do without his two front teeth for Christmas and I, instead, will get two working nostrils.

A post just to say that I've posted in December

2006-12-21T00:10:15Z

So, it dawned on me that I haven't made a public post -- or even a friends-only one for that matter -- since November 28th. Don't I suck?

Seriously, people... This isn't because I don't like you or because I don't want to tell you my secrets. Trust me, I do. But I've spent 93.4% of my time either at work or in The Land With No Internet. That puts a major cramp on any LJ updating desires. Sure, there is the voice post option, which I really should utilize more often... But I really like to plop my ass in front of an old-fashioned monitor in peace & quiet or country music -- whichever fits the mood -- and do my thing keyboard style.

Between the holidays and trying to get Jessie packed up to ditch her ghetto apartment before the end of the month, I've spent waaaay more post-wedding hours here in The Hometown than I have at my real home in Franklin. And, as you've heard me lament several times before, Internet just isn't a standard feature in The Hometown. My mom doesn't have it unless my brother is home with his laptop so we can steal wireless access from the neighbors. Jessie, who teaches computer information systems, doesn't work at her apartment and does not have access. Jessie's parents have dial-up that I refuse to attempt to use. So, I'm left here... With all of these thoughts and no LJ to spread them out with.

Let's all join in with a collective "Aarrrrgggghhhh!"

Thank you. I feel better. Don't you?

Checking In

2006-11-28T20:10:47Z

Nine days, twenty-one hours, ten minutes and a handful of seconds.
Well, I've got Brittany Spears & Jason Allen Alexander beat.

The honeymoon is wrapped up. Thanksgiving is over. But I still have not returned to reality. I'm crashing at Jessie's apartment in our hometown until I drive home and go back to work Friday morning. The upside of that is that I get to do a whole lot of nothing and spend time with my wife. The downside is that we're in the Internet dark ages here. Neither Jessie or my mom has online access at home... So my only option is to show up at Jessie's office and hijack her computer when she's in class (which I'm doing now).

There are stories to tell... Photos to share... And I promise that they are all coming as soon as I return to a place where household Internet is a common luxury. After that, I'll reply to comments and I might even start reading my friends page again. (If anything has happened in the last two weeks worth reading, please let me know so I can catch up.)

Public Post

2006-11-22T23:36:32Z

This is a public post to confirm what I had already announced in my friends-only voice post... As of Saturday evening, I am a married man. Everything went off without major incident and the shackle of oppression has been place on my left ring finger. Heh.

We've been home from the honeymoon for a couple of hours now. Of course, you can't consider the Thanksgiving holidays a return to normalcy... but it will be fun to do the holidays as married folk. I have several memory cards full of pics that I'll share soon enough.

Happy Turkey Day. I hope you have something to be thankful for. I know I do.

Preacher: Lost & Found

2006-11-17T17:17:41Z

The older I get, the harder it is to define my particular brand of religion. However, when in need of a label, I consider myself Presbyterian because that's where I've spent most of my formative years... But my roots are a bit more diverse.

Growing up, we did the Presbyterian thing to follow my mom's family. Her dad had been raised Lutheran, but found there to be a shortage of churches in our part of the world and figured being a Presbyterian would be almost as good. On the other side, my dad's mom actually preached back in the day in a small country church and my dad's brother grew up to be a big shot in the Church of God. So, I guess it's no wonder that I'm a Presbyterian marrying a Baptist at her church in a service led by a Methodist minister.

The minister was my choice. Jessie got to pick her church as the venue, so I got dibs on choosing our preacher man. I went back in the time machine to do so.

In the early 1990s, I was spending most of my weekends at my mom's mother's house in a very small Delta town. Did I mention that it was very small? Our weekly attendance at the Presbyterian Church usually hovered around 10. I'm guessing that to an outsider, ours looked very much like a lost cause... But, to this day, I thikn there is something to be said for worshiping in small numbers.

It came to pass in those days that we found ourselves without a regular minister. And, fortunatley for us, there happened to be an unemployed Methodist minister in the next town over. After coming to the conclusion that the Methodists' God and the Presbyterians' God were the same one, we offered him a job. To this day, his sermons are the best I've ever heard.

From the pulpit, he was never bossy or preachy. His messages were always conversational. If you weren't careful, you'd listen to him long enough and start to think he was talking directly to you. Almost every sermon began with a joke. The joke led him into a story that he would take apart, explain what each part did and what it meant before putting it all back together again in the end for you to understand.

When it came time to get a wedding minister, I knew he was our guy.

Even though it had been more than a decade since I'd last seen him preach a sermon, we tracked him down shortly after Jessie & I were engaged. After catching up with him and explaining the Cliff's Notes version of the Fletch/Jessie saga of more than 11 years, he said that he didn't need to counsel us. If after such a long friendship, the two of us wanted to be married, he'd be happy to do the service. He marked November 18 on his calendar. We wrote him down on ours.

Fast forward to June, when many Methodist ministers do a shuffle or sorts and get moved from one church to another. You guessed it -- our guy was relocated to a different church. What complicated matters was that many of the church staff left when he did. So, when we called to firm up details later in the year, not only was our guy not preaching at this church anymore, no one knew where he'd gone. None of the phone number we had for him worked. We had lost our preacher.

As it turns out, he wasn't lost for long -- only a few days. Of course, a few days without a preacher is enough to hiccup wedding prep just slightly. For the record, I was never worried... But I enjoyed telling people that we had lost our preacher. It adds color to the engagement story.

Sunday, Jessie and I drove an hour and a half to the small-town church where now preaches. The sermon was exactly as I remembered from many years prior... The conversation format... The simple explanation of a complex message. After one service, Jessie agreed with me that his was the benchmark by which most ministers should be measured.

We spent Sunday afternoon hashing out the details of the ceremony. To be honest, I didn't realize exactly how much was involved from the preacher's standpoint. I thought he'd show up, ask if we would, listen to us tell him that we do and move on. However, there are prayers and blessings and a script, of sorts, even. Although it's obvious that with every passing day, the wedding has seemed more real to me... Hearing the preacher read the vows we'd take -- using Fletch and Jessie with those words -- made it very real... Goosebumps reals.

Ainkshus

2006-11-16T07:01:07Z

About a week or so ago, I woke up in my bunk at work with a very anxious feeling. In my deep sleep only moments before, I'd been having thoughts of my wedding. It wasn't a dream with a full storyline, but instead quick flashes of images of me at the alter.

There was no haze or gap between asleep and awake. In the time it takes to snap your fingers, I was very awake and very scared. There was a heavy weight on my chest and a shaky feeling throughout my whole body. For a brief moment, I was convinced that the world might just end if I went through with the wedding.

Yeah, I know. You'll never hear the kids telling that tale on "A Wedding Story."

The good news is that I hadn't felt that way before that morning and I haven't felt that way since, either. I'm not really sure what brought on those feelings in my sub-conscience, but if I had to put money on it, I'd bet on Alex.

As you know, we haven't spoken since December of last year. As you also know, she is one of probably only two women that I have ever really loved. Not talking to her this year has been the absolute best thing for me... It's also been the absolute worst.

For several weeks last month, every day brought a debate to my head whether or not to call Alex. A huge chunk of me knew that the silence hadn't betrayed me so far, so why chance things? The other part of me knew that this was a person of immense importance to me... and that I was leaving her out of one of my biggest days. I swayed back and forth between sides so much that it literally made me sick.

I passed within a few hundred yards of her house on my way to south Louisiana last weekend. I thought about taking that exit off the Interstate. I thought about what I might say to her. I wondered how I would explain the last 11 months. I went so far as to compose a text message to her.

Alex had been the one that put the idea of not drinking Cokes into my head. I thought it only appropriate to let her know that I'd made it a full year without one. I typed out the message. I pulled up her number from my contacts. I clicked on "save draft."

For as much as it hurt me inside to want to talk to her, I had no idea how the conversation might go... And I was too chicken to find out. I could see her upset with the silence -- hurt that we'd come together so passionately last year to split into completely opposite directions. I could see where she'd be pissed that things developed with Jessie so quickly after they had ended with her. I could see her pissed that Jessie is "getting her shot" and I denied Alex hers.

Of course, I won't lie. I was also afraid that she wouldn't care. Maybe 11 months without Fletch was enough to prove that she didn't need me in her life -- in any form -- any longer. Maybe I'd find out that she didn't miss me the way I've been missing her. I remember a time in college when her heart wanted to be with me and her mind refused it the chance... She tried so hard -- and unsuccessfully -- to dismiss me. I could hear that tone in her voice come back from the dead to tell me once and for all that she didn't need me.

I know I've thought about this way too much. I know that I just should have called her up long ago and let us make peace. I'm not sure it will ever get easier to do. The longer I wait only adds time between us. And if I think it's hard to explain being engaged to a former lover, it's probably harder to explain being married.

The bottom line is that I wish she were in that church on Saturday... No, not as my bride, but as my friend. For as more time passes without us talking, I think it will be her friendship that I will miss more than any romantic moment.

Countdown

2006-11-14T05:47:16Z

My wedding countdown clock now shows less than five days until I'm no longer a free man. In fact, it's ticking down somewhere in the neighborhood of four days and 17 hours. The closer it gets, the less my reaction changes -- "Wow."

This weekend, I took my last bachelor's road trip. In the span of five days, I racked up some 1,300 miles on my truck -- and on my ass. The trip took me to southeast Louisiana where I visited some friends and watched a college buddy of mine make his final walk as a single man. As far as long-ass road trips go, this one yielded no great stories to tell. No major epiphanies were to be had. But it served it's purpose by letting my clear my head before the big week.

Not that I wasn't ready before... But I'm definately ready now. Less than five days to go. Let's go.

Dead Ends

2006-11-11T07:20:18Z

For some reason, I've found myself in somewhat of a writing hole lately. I start writing something but I never finish it. Tonight, I was sitting at the counter at the Waffle House in Boutte, LA. I started writing. I had a story idea and a plan to tell the story. I managed a couple of good paragraphs and a couple more mediocre ones before I quit. I lost my motivation. I lost interest in my own story. For as excited as I was to start the story, I lost every bit of it before I could remotely finish it. What gives?

Once home from the Waffle House, I gave writing an LJ entry another shot. (Actually, I'm nearly 500 miles from home at some friends' house on their computer, but you get the point.) Once again, I had a bit of vision... I started strong... And two or three paragaphs in, I was struggling. By the fourth, I'd lost interest and I never finished the fifth. What am I missing? What's the ingredient lacking that causes a derailment in my writing process?

I have no idea. And the crazy thing is... It's happening again. Here I am... Third paragraph... Ready to hit the cancel button and move on. Well, I'm giving up, but I think I'll hit the "Update Journal" button instead. G'Night.

Tippy Toes

2006-10-25T07:38:12Z

I tended to walk on my toes late at night in my second-floor apartment so that I didn't disturb my neighbors below. Now that I have a house, I tend to walk on my toes late at night so the creaking hardwoods don't disturb me. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

On an unrelated note, we're now T minus less than four weeks until nuptials. Wow.

A mari usque ad mare (Edited)

2006-09-28T20:13:17Z

Okay, so I figured that would get your attention.

I know that I have at least one Canadian on my flist and a few more with ties to that big country to the north. So, I'm needing advice and suggestions for a potential Canadian honeymoon.

As you know, the fiancee and I bought a house. This means that we don't have any big bags of money lying around -- all that's left are the small ones. In addition to the lack of money, I've put the honeymoon plans on the back burner because there really isn't any one place that we must absolutely visit. Of course, we do want to go somewhere we've never been before... And as much as we shouldn't waste money on intercontinental airfare, we would really like to leave the country for a spell. So, you can see how Canada -- as a nation -- might fit the bill.

As casey98 was happy to point out, "Canada is a huge country." So, I'll probably need to narrow the search down to specific cities. I've heard things about Toronto, Montreal and Vancouver... But mostly only because they have/had professional sports teams. Shame on me. I should really know more about my neighbors.

Just as there isn't one city that we must see, there are no real activities that we must do. We're basic folks -- a bit of shopping, a tourist trap or two and a bed that isn't crawling with bugs usually makes us happy. We just want to do those things in new -- and slightly foreign -- environs.

So, what say you? I'm taking any and all recomendations.

From a hypoglaucemic mind

2006-09-28T02:44:21Z

Ask me how my shift at the AA went today.

Well, thanks for asking.

My entire food intake today consisted of three packages of peanut butter crackers and two oatmeal cream pies. Oh, and three Sprite Zeroes.

And the best moment was when the demented, one-legged patient mumbled to me, "I'm going to kick your mother-fucking ass." Hopefully, he would have only tried it while sitting down.

Actually, today wasn't bad. It was pretty good. I was on a transport unit that doesn't run emergencies -- just non-emergency transfers to or from the hospital. The perk of this is that the shift is either eight runs or ten hours -- whichever comes first. Today, it was the eight runs. Of course, an early day never comes without a price.

Remind me to tell you...

2006-09-26T04:29:02Z

A week or so ago, we lost our minister.

No, he didn't die. We lost him.

A few days later, we found him again.

If I don't write and tell this short story in a few days, please e-mail me over and over until I do. I don't want these wedding-prep stories to slip through the cracks that have become my journal. Also, remind me that I need a wedding icon.

Voice Post

2006-09-23T02:08:59Z

I used to write a journal.

2006-09-22T05:45:07Z

I want to write like I once did.

I want to sit down here and let everything flow out.

I'm heavy with ideas that I must purge.

The thoughts are all there.

The emotions are all there.

The writing... Well, the writing isn't.

911, What is your emergency? Umm...

2006-09-14T02:25:21Z

I worked a 12-hour shift at the AA yesterday. Although things have been busy most every day I work there, the schedule was fat and we had more than enough ambulances online. So, things were fairly quiet. We only did five runs -- including a two-hour round-trip transfer between hospitals -- and got the chance to take a bit of a nap in the afternoon.

Of course, the last call of the day was the award-winner. We ran to one of the senior citizen high-rise housing projects for a 70-something year-old woman having problems urinating. Did it hurt or burn when she peed? Nope. Had it been days since she'd last emptied her bladder? Nope.

So what was the emergency? She'd peed two hours ago and hadn't been able to go since.

Ambulance. Taxi. Daycare. Whatever you call it, EMS is here for you.

Expensive Meals

2006-09-11T19:11:01Z

I'm at the firehouse today. It's the first time since my rookie year here ('02) that I've worked September 11th. There are two tables worth of food downstairs that folks in the community have brought by. We've been fed breakfast and lunch. A group is supposed to drop by in a few hours with dinner, too. One lady and her children brought by a pan of cinnamon rolls so fresh from the oven that they were still warm. In the note she attached to the pan, she called us God's angels. Wow.

Of the 16 career guys in my department, I think I'm one of only five that were firefighters before September 11, 2001. That puts me in a unique position... Or, at the least, it provides a unique perspective. I joined the fire service when we were just guys on big, red trucks. We were the ones that led the local parade. No one hosted parades for us. We were only heroes when one of us died -- and when we died, we only did so one or two at a time. Fires killed us... Heart attacks, too... But never terrorists. Some of us felt unappreciated, but we did the work anyway... Not because we wanted to "protect the homeland," but because we liked helping our neighbors. Oh, how so much has changed.

I made the comment to the guys that I wish people would bring food on August 11 or October 11. I hate that we -- just your average, small-town firemen -- get free food because of the very real sacrifices made by our brothers more than 1,000 miles away from here. We appreciate the recognition, but wish it didn't come on this day and that it didn't come with the price it did. Of course, there is a flip side to the coin. What will it feel like when folks stop recognizing this day? What will it feel like when people start to forget? And it will happen. Just think... What did you do that was special last December 7? Like I said... People will forget. Let's just hope that it's not any time soon.

Then

2006-09-11T07:18:19Z

Originally written 11 September 2001:

I woke up suddenly and with some worry... I had the feeling that I'd overslept and missed class. I threw the warm covers off, climbed out of bed, squinted my eyes and walked toward the clock until I could make out the digital reading. Whew. 8:43 a.m. I had another hour or so to sleep. I crawled back into bed and found the warm spot in the middle of the mattress. I laid on my left side and then rolled onto my right. Sunlight from the blinds hit me in the face. I pulled the comforter up to block the rays. In seconds, I was asleep.

Ring. Ring.

I climbed from my bed again and was a little miffed that someone had ruined my bonus hour of sleep. It was Jessie. She apologized for waking me before saying, "but Washington is being attacked." In a single moment, I went from nearly asleep to fully awake. She chimed in again, "and they've bombed the World Trade Center."

I looked at the clock. It was a few minutes before 9 o'clock. I hadn't been asleep long. I fumbled with the buttons of the television and searched for a channel with coverage. I found Headline News, thanked Jessie and hung up the phone to watch. In less than 10 minutes, I was calling her back.

"Oh, dear God, Jess. One of the towers has collapsed."

And so it was that one of the nation's darkest days was upon us.

Following the herd

2006-09-09T00:29:44Z

As scene in sarcasticah, djm1975, apers, et. al.

I'm curious about the image for my interest, "Uh-Oh." I listed it because it's the name of Cowboy Mouth's album before last. It appears to be represented in the collage by a picture of light bondage. Also, I'm a little disturbed by a half-naked picture of Eddie Cibrian being used to represent "Third Watch." Sure, I could have changed it... But I didn't want to alter the integrity of the meme. Heh.

Create your own! Originally Written By ga_woo, Hosted and ReWritten by darkman424

Between Deadlines

WNL-XIII: "I am torn in the middle of a world that won't let loose"

WNL-XII

A mommy with the body of a stripper!

Deadline Pressure Updated!

Public Post

Now, we're *really* married.

It's official...

Two Days, Two Entries

A post just to say that I've posted in December

Checking In

Public Post

Preacher: Lost & Found

Ainkshus

Countdown

Dead Ends

Tippy Toes

A mari usque ad mare (Edited)

From a hypoglaucemic mind

Remind me to tell you...

Voice Post

I used to write a journal.

911, What is your emergency? Umm...

Expensive Meals

Then

Following the herd

Now, we're really married.