Music, I guess?

"Oooh baby I love your waaay, everyday." Lovely song. Lovely, lovely, looooohoooovely. Reminds me of childhood, when it was all rosie colored and less complicated than this adult life, I wished so badly to come quickly. I longed for it so badly. And now I have remind myself to be careful for what I wish for. Not that I want to be dead or anything of the sorts, I'm just sayin it kind of sucks sometimes.

So I'm 10, on my bike singing Frampton. The breeze from the speed of riding on my bike. Long black hair, black hair all the way down my back to my ass. As a matter o' fact it flew, literally flew in the wind. The tennis ball in my spokes made no sense and I couldn't sense of how or why it was there. All it did was make my bike ride kind of wonky. Really? A tennis ball? Hmmm. I kept on riding. God knows I AM the epitomy of 10years old. I was striving for Tomboyism, but not allowed as I was the "doll" of the family. You know, the first daughter, therefore, the dressied up daughter. Honestly, just like a doll. Perfect hair, and on and on....kind of sounds like an obsession I have currently shed myself of.

The sense of freedom from riding a bike, rollerskating, running and being a kid. Sweet and simple. I'd listen to my fold and play record/am radio some friends gave me for a holiday or something. I was 10 and I was a bad ass. Triumph, Sonny & Cher, The Beach Boys 45s were handed down to me from a cousin whom I ended up dispising for the rest of my life. I mean really, what would you do if your 15 yr old cousin calls you a little bitch? You'd wanna bite her for sure. Literally BITE her. I was a biter back then. Heheheh

So many songs that bring back so many good times and memories of really awesome experiences in my life. The first time I went to a bbq over my Dad's vato friend's house. "Lowrider, get a little lower nah." Good God, the rock n' roll my brother would play. All because of this, music has brought me in and out of "stuff" we'll say. Oh yeah, my father was a hoodlum. A pachuco, hung out with the homies. Wore a chain from his pocket in a giant loop. Dippity do in the hair. VATO with a wanna be tattoo.

There's this one song I cannot get through and it makes me quiver/shutter with utter disgust and the sensation of vomitting. 50 Ways To Leave Your Lover. Now that one kills me with those memories. All part of life non-theless. "Now slip out the back Jack". UGH! It makes me feel ill to write those words. I hear it and think of a horrible person I once knew. EW

Love's Babysoft perfume. sniifffff. aaaaah.

Elton John seems to be one of my favs amongst the other favs, lol. Reminds me of just being so care free, no bills, cars, husbands, children, stress, ugly people and things that just get to me like nothing else.

I never realized what a combination of music I enjoyed. They were healing and damaging at the same time. Joyful with colors and then slam into a brick wall. Currently, that is. In one of those flashback things. But its ok. Its mighty fine. It reminds me of my mortality. How old I really am. OH BILLY JOEL!! Love him. Mad passion.

43? Really? Who's 43? Certainly not me. I do not have any recollection of being anything older than 10. Who and what are you talking about? "I love you just the way you arrrrre." Oh sweet Billy Joel. SO would that make me what they call dissociative disorder? Haha! Another tag ay?

I turned 43, in case I didn't drop a bomb of a hint. Lol. I can't say that I feel 43 or that I can even own up to being 43. Odd stuff. This aging business is so difficult to process without the muddy puddles of memories. Its on the tip of your tongue. You can smell and taste a moment of your life. Or in this case, hear and see. And whats up with putting a number on how many years I've been here.

I descended upon the masses with bad humor, too much compassion, pain, and humility. I have no idea why or how I am here or still here at that. See, life has handed out some seriously shitty hand. I have never won poker nor will I and thats ok too. I just figure its material for a bad comdienne, such as myself. Aspiring to be one, at least one thing I desired as a child. Goodness, I wanted to be anything creative and had an expression from my mind and whatever else flies around my head Writing blogs was certainly the farthest from my mind. But I really enjoy it. I can say words that make no sense or belong together. I can SPEW the rot from my brain.

Its amazing what rot and moss is in here. And thats ok too. I'm so not complaining, I think I am sharing how complacent I have become. So not good for my soul. Sometimes its really comfy though. Depressed? Sleep in, why the hell not?! Mania for shopping? Woot! I love shopping. But in the end, it IS all ok. I just wonder what kind of impact I've made on anyone or anything. I hate the thought of being a time vampire and abusing my privilege of life.

Which brings me to the fact that I got my whopping settlement from the vampires that work for the state disability and thr minions. Yeah. LOADS. Just enough to let me buy a few luxury items, take a vacay and help Momma out cause of an awful financial situation. They really did me a favor. SUper favor. "Hey Tammy Osuna-Burton! We've put a price on what you're hard work totalled up to be. Aaaaand its half of your annual salary. Here honey, go shopping."

Those big spender and employers of all things negative. There is some residual pain. A little bitterness in that they "decided" that I didn't have a problem at the workplace due to an ass I worked with. But it happened to be due to a past life experience. Boy am I going to haunt them. Really scare the crap outta them. OK ENOUGH. I just get a little sad and upset once in a while. Oh the meloncholy. I liked my job. I really liked everyone I worked with. I had what I needed, made what I needed and it was good. I shopped for random stuff and mostly for others. Had really nice clothes and bought jewelry I loved. Having grown up a little poor girl, this was super important. I bought diamonds, precious stones, great shoes, gifts and gifts and regret not having donated more. But you see, we end up caught up in that and become the boss I know as evil and evilette. And again, thats ok. I'm in a better place?

SO my point has probably become a big ball of confusion and I've gone of the beaten path again. Oh I love to blog. No grammatical corrections, criticism is only for the misspelled and however ignorant I may seem. It all really doesnt matter anyway. Its just words. words, words, wooords. Such a great place to divulge random shit.

Ok back to it. What I am trying to confirm is that I really don't like this adult business. It's wonderful cause I can come and go as I please and say what I choose to say. Pick my own politics. Stand on a soap box and preach my opinion, back it up with a coke and smile...lol. And that I love Peter Frampton and thank him for just one part in his song. "Oh baby I love your way. Everyday. Wanna be with you night and day..." Something I would dream of as a child. I would hear it in my head and hope someone would sing it to me. Love me that much. And he does, I think. Its hard to tell sometimes. SomeONE who would walk over to me and hold my cheek and kiss my lips ever so softly as if a whisper. Hmmm. I loved being 10.