tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69647630116467305722024-03-05T02:25:35.788-08:00Songs I've HeardMusic is my obsession. It influences my thoughts, my emotions, and my work. It stirs my soul and is an essential ingredient to my existence. Please join in and share your thoughts as well in the comment boxes on each piece. The beauty of song is that there is something out there for each and every one of us.Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-53745328997319196522017-10-27T00:23:00.000-07:002017-10-27T00:23:57.993-07:00The Ventura HighwayApparently there is no "Ventura Highway," but it's said that CA-101 is it. I'd have thought it was Route 126 as that's what took us through the town this evening. <br />
<br />
It was the end of a long, dusty drive from the San Francisco Bay Area in a blazing autumn sun. Seeing our state song by song on Day 1 of this two week road trip is a dream to me. Starting out from the infamous city of free love and birthplace of incredible musical history, we then cruised through a Merle Haggard song by passing through Kern County. Descending over The Grapevine, the lights of Los Angeles glimmered in the distance as The Doors lulled us into a tale about an LA Woman. <br />
<br />
We stopped for a bite to fill our weary bellies at an old school Arby's, standing proud with their tall 10-gallon neon hat boasting about their beef. I asked an employee when that location originated and he replied "40 years ago." The quaint guitar sounded in my head as I imagined how many travelers had passed through and who they might have been. How many kids had been enchanted by that old hat? Lonely truckers, families, girlfriends and boyfriends. <br />
<br />
There were no alligator lizards in the air for us as the sun was long set, but there was a muggy evening smell to the night. Then it was back on the road and headed up the 101 to a Santa Barbara suburb to take care of some business. <br />
<br />
A bit of musical trivia I learned tonight; America sang of the purple rain long before Prince rocked it out.<br />
<br />
It's been a day, so I bid you goodnight.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/cQCjHC0m54E/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cQCjHC0m54E?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-40699413439162134152013-09-13T17:34:00.001-07:002014-06-18T01:13:21.217-07:00Hysterical Blindness<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">There are none so
blind as those who do not see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I walk into brick walls often, many admonish me to
look where I'm going.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Blindness isn't
always in the eyes of the beholder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sometimes it's the darkness of a mind, the beating of a black
heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even the blind can see.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We see through the scent of a cloud whispering from a far
away sky, through the touch of a breeze that's traveled around the world to
greet us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We see through the sounds of a
lonely piano where great passions are spilled forth to dance as a fire licks
the night air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mine is a hysterical blindness in that it keeps me from
seeing the moments mercifully buried, but I live in fear of what could possibly
be blacker than the horrors remaining unseen in my memory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Happiness is fleeting; I find myself living those moments as often as possible, while I scribble in the moon's light trying to recover what's been lost. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Long have been the nights that I've slashed my veins to
write in bloody ink, chasing my demons into the midnight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or... am I the one pursued?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is in those hours that I look for
something tangible, anything to bind me to a world of realism, and not the
twisted turns of my mystical whirlstorms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When the ivory sings to me, its voice comes from the soul of another,
and as I strive to be heard, I am calmed by common expressions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The soothing touch of a human hand allows me
to toss my words about without fear of falling alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/641xeu4Xo60?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-87334182453499107062013-02-26T18:40:00.000-08:002013-02-26T18:40:56.305-08:00Come Down In Time<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">In the quiet silent seconds... I came
down to meet you in the half light the moon left...<o:p></o:p></i><br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
I am a moon girl. <br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
Always have been for as far back as my memory can reach. I'm not sure if
it's because I feel a safety in the grays that glimmer in the shadows, or if
I'm trying to harness the beauty of its solemn solitude. <br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
I've never been a woman to draw the looks of men. They don't approach me
upon sight. It seems its my words that draw them in, whether intentional or
conversational. It's a power that I'm not always comfortable with, because it
can lead to a cracked heart - mine more often than theirs, for guilt is a heavy
hammer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
Often I question why it is these friends fall for me over time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The replies have varied from "you're so
much fun to talk with!" to "you're amazing, like an onion, one just
has to keep peeling the layers to get to your center."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last
night, a very quiet man said to me "You have lots of stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I like the way you tell your
stories."<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
I think it's the safety in that I can't be had, mingling with the hope that
I can be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is it me giving off that mixed
vibe?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
Is it me whom they see in their looking glass?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The magic stops there, leaving only me on the
other side, mired in clay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
There is a small seed deep inside of my soul that wants to be wanted, but when
it is tended to and the roots take hold, it becomes frightening because all I
can think is... <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what have I done?</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It feels as though I'm drifting through time,
that I am nothing more than a transition, a transparency.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am wanted for my parts, but rarely ever for
my all.<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
It is when I lay my weary self down at the end of each night, and feel the
warmth next to me that I know I am wanted, always.<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">There are women, and some will hold
you tight while others will leave you counting stars in the night...</i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/plFusfEgXXA?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></i><br />
(c) Kymberlie Ingalls, February 26th, 2011<br />
Lyrics:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Come Down In Time<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>/<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>Elton John<br />
Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-22020423768038654492013-02-20T01:41:00.000-08:002013-02-20T01:41:11.385-08:00Brass In Pocket<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><style><font color="#eeeeee" face="Verdana, sans-serif">.AOLWebSuite .AOLPicturesFullSizeLink { height: 1px; width: 1px; overflow: hidden; } .AOLWebSuite a {color:blue; text-decoration: underline; cursor: pointer} .AOLWebSuite a.hsSig {cursor: default} .AOLWebSuiteM1 {margin: 10px 20px;} .AOLWebSuiteM2 {margin: 5px;} .AOLWebSuiteM3 {margin: 10px;} .dmItemSelected {padding: 2px !important;text-decoration: none !important;color:#fff !important;background-color: #656565 !important;border-radius: 2px;}</font></style><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div id="AOLMsgPart_1_3a4705e7-f0f2-4d5b-b073-a5b20608a196">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Soutane;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Today I don’t feel so special.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>Ah, but you are! </i>come the reassurances, but are they sincere?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How does one know?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do <i>I </i>know?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s the expression… “if ya ain’t lyin’, you’re dyin’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Soutane;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Soutane;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In other words, people are too fucking polite.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Soutane;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Soutane;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">I spend a lot of my time wondering whether I’m worthy of anyone else’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too much of my time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I need to be doing is taking a better look at whether <i>they</i> are worth mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Soutane;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Soutane;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Way back in the day, my mom used to be big into the CB radio scene.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like me, she was very social by nature, and she loved to talk a good game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her call name was Pocket Mouse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I was a kid, I thought it was kinda cute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t until recently when I was describing Mom’s perverse humor that it hit me just what it meant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember the old line, “Is that a mouse in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Soutane;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span style="font-family: Soutane;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She was special.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had a way of relating to people that made them feel at home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A woman of steel with a heart of gold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of my life I’ve wished to be her, flaws and all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m just a tough nut to crack with barely any heart left at all.</span></span><span style="font-family: Soutane;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Soutane;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Soutane;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">What <i>is</i> left of it, however, is worthy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Soutane;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Soutane;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">So, were I to pick up a CB right now and introduce myself, I think it would be Pocket Brass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because I need to remember that my heart has endured a lot, and still beats steadily even when it wants to stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not quite as pretty as gold, and has dulled over time, but it’s strong and worth having in your pocket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Soutane;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Soutane;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/GLQRZgfASyc?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: Soutane;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></span></i></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"> <!-- end of AOLMsgPart_1_3a4705e7-f0f2-4d5b-b073-a5b20608a196 --></span></span>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-33872477031299217742012-10-22T03:26:00.000-07:002012-10-22T03:28:46.701-07:00Water And BridgesMy bridge is falling, so much water rushing past has pulled it down in jagged wooden pieces. Life is a never ending river current; I wonder when mine will turn to dust and leave me longing for relief. <br />
<br />
I'm not sure which is the stronger pain. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/5TU22lH9om4?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-45431880042413073362012-06-02T05:02:00.000-07:002012-06-02T05:12:02.545-07:00Carefree Highway<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">“Her name was Anne.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’ll be damned if I recall her face.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The grizzled features that stared back at Ray from behind the bar couldn’t possibly be his – the shaggy gray beard with fading streaks of color, the lines that ran deep in the sun-colored skin, eyes that had seen the world and all of its evils.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wasn’t that old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His gaze went right through the bartender as he continued to take in his reflection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“She left me not knowing what to do.” he drank from the cool beer in front of him. “And that I’ve never forgotten.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Why was he telling this guy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Until a week ago, he hadn’t thought of her in over three decades.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>Keep lyin’ to yourself, buddy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tell the old man another lie too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>Ray swiveled his head like an owl to see if he was still the only one in the joint.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yep, just him and the barkeep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>That’s why you’re telling this guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s nobody else to overhear your pathetic tale of wanderlust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And?” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He reached back in his memory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I gave my little girl a porcelain doll once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pretty little thing, it was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soft when you touched her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dark hair, with green eyes and a smile that was painted on, but like there was a secret inside that couldn’t be seen unless you broke her open.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His daughter had adored that doll.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ray hadn’t wanted to admit to himself why it called to him from the store’s window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It fed his dreams whenever he saw it on her white storybook shelf, propped against the well-read books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The bartender dipped a used glass into a small sink full of soapy water and wiped it dry before placing it among the others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’d heard this story before, Ray was sure of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His, or a thousand others just like it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The light peeked in through the dirty windows, casting shadows behind the bottles that glinted beneath the mirror.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All lined up, begging for stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each shot that was poured was a tale waiting to be told.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ray pulled out his tarnished watch and sprung it open.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><time hour="15" minute="0"><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Three o’clock</span></time><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He should be on the road right now, logging miles in the rig to get to his next load, but when he’d seen the sign for </span><place><placename><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Apache</span></placename><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"> </span><placetype><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Falls</span></placetype></place><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"> as he rolled through the </span><place><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Midwest</span></place><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">, it lured him from his route.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He shoved the watch, a gift from his old man back when he finished school, back into his jeans pocket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He’d seen the sign on many of his trips across the country, and tried like hell to outrun it as he pushed on the gas just a little harder than usual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The memory of one night had haunted him for a lifetime.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“A dark, green-eyed beauty ain’t nothin’ to forget.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bartender mused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The name above the door as Ray had wandered in read “Joe’s Place.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He figured it was Joe standing there – had to be a one-horse bar in a two-horse town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Where ya headed?” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“</span><state><place><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Tennessee</span></place></state><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">, this trip.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Always wanted to visit the old South.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Take the wife to that there ol’ Opry, see some of the greats.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As if on cue, Merle Haggard came alive on the jukebox that sat in the corner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The volume was low, to match the empty bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’ve been there and back a hundred times or more.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ray said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Where ya comin’ from?” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“</span><state><place><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Oregon</span></place></state><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s where my family is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wife and my little girl, Sarah.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He closed his eyes for just a moment as he pondered what he’d done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sarah had driven with her girlfriend off to college the week before he’d left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hell, she isn’t so little anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All grown up now.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Got a few of those myself.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Joe chuckled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“She’s the only one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A surprise when she came along, but I wouldn’t have changed it for anything.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ray told the old man how nineteen-year-old Ellie had tearfully given him the news.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stared in horror at the blue-eyed blonde-haired girl before him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The girl next door, literally; they’d grown up together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’d messed up, and now she was pregnant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were small-town kids, he only a year older at twenty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Back then a man did one of two things – stepped up or fled the coop, and he wasn’t a runner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Until now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They weren’t in love, but they liked each other enough to get hitched for the sake of the baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ray and Ellie grew into each other, and Sarah bonded them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Ray had a secret.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Just as they’d begun seeing each other the year before, he’d put a down payment from money he’d saved working at the local service station on a used long-hauler.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He hadn’t been on too many gigs when he rolled through </span><place><placename><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Apache</span></placename><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"> </span><placetype><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Falls</span></placetype></place><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"> one afternoon as the sun was setting over the prairie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He remembered it like it was still painted fresh in his mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reds and oranges and pinks streaked the sky as the blazing yellow sun settled into the distant hills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">As he pulled in to stay for the night, there was a roadhouse with an open door where a young crowd stumbled in and out, smoke trailing behind them that clouded around the neon beer lights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Figuring he could use a drink to wind down, Ray parked his truck in the vast field behind the shack alongside two others. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">It was three Budweisers after he figured out this was a guy who didn’t ask for proof of age when he ordered a shot of Jack with the next round.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While he waited on the drinks, a girl about his age slid onto the stool next to him, rubbing shoulders as she leaned with laughter at whatever her girlfriend had said behind her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">“Oops!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sorry!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She straightened herself on the chair and giggled at the bartender when he came back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“A champagne cocktail for her,” she nodded to her friend, “and…“ glancing at Ray, “I’ll have what he’s having!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her green eyes rested on his for a millisecond, but it was enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Admiring the way her chestnut hair fell in waves just past her shoulders, brushing against the western-styled plaid shirt tied at her waist above the faded jeans covering the longest legs he’d ever seen, Ray forced himself not to stare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">“Uh,” he stammered, “It’s on me, whatever she’s having.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He tugged at some wrinkled bills from his pocket, tossing them on the bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly there was no crowd, no Journey playing in the background.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was only this creature smiling at him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">“Thank you!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess that warrants a name then, doesn’t it?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She offered him her hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Anne.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he didn’t answer, she laughed again, softly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">your </i>name, stranger?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Coming back to his senses, he shouted his name above the din while her friend snatched her pink cocktail and danced her way back to a group of friends.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">And there they sat until the bar closed down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They walked outside and around to the back field, neither ready to say goodbye just yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He learned that she was a rancher’s daughter, some days content with that but there was an artist in her longing to be freed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">“It’s nothing more than a silly old dream.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Ray couldn’t stop himself from reaching into the starry night and caressing her cheek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“There’s nothing silly about that.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then they kissed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed to last for hours, and he knew he wanted it to last a lifetime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">The more they shared, the further in love they fell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the sun began its ascent, Ray and Anne couldn’t pull themselves apart without a sadness overtaking them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he had a job to do.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">“It’ll only take me two days to reach the west coast, and another two to get back after a quick stop at home.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ray held her chin up high so he could hold her gaze steady with his.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But I’m coming back for you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you’ll have me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a promise he wanted to carve in stone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">“I think I want that… very much…” she raised her lips to his again as they curved into a smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And they parted.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Two days later, his promise was lost in that prairie when Ellie shattered his world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How the hell…?</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’d only been together three times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell, they’d only been dating for just a few months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">The mornin’ after blues from my head down to my shoes… </span></i><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">words echoing through him like a witch’s chant.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Ray never could bring himself to go back to that little town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely she was better off thinking it was a magical night that never really happened, rather than being with a man who ran off and left a baby behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a secret he harbored from Ellie for the last eighteen years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’d settled into a life that was content, she went to work running the office of a local attorney, and the road trips gave him the quiet he needed; but Ray knew his heart wasn’t in the marriage and knew that hers wasn’t either.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">One day they’d gone to a museum in nearby </span><city><place><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Ashland</span></place></city><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">, a last family outing before the summer ended and Sarah was off to school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a collection premiering of Midwestern artists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His heart nearly seized when his eyes fell on a canvas featuring an old ramshackle roadhouse, dimly lit on a starry night, with two lone figures beneath the moon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The placquard next to the art read Anne Turner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">It was then that he made up his mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His little girl was going to be on her own now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was time, and Ellie deserved better than what she had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’d made a good life for their daughter, but it was time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After dinner that night, Ray sat his wife down on the front porch swing, and they talked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were good enough friends that the tears were brief, but this wasn’t an unexpected twist for either of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">But now what the hell do I do?</span></i><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quietly that weekend he stuffed his clothes into oversized duffle bags.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">“Don’t worry.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ellie watched him with a forlorn, faraway expression, a prideful grace keeping her still. “Your stuff’s not going anywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can come get it when you figure things out.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He loved her then, more than he ever had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Guess it must be wanderlust or tryin’ to get free from the good old faithful feeling we once knew…</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">And now here he was in </span><place><placename><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Apache</span></placename><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"> </span><placetype><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Falls</span></placetype></place><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">, telling his story to a stranger while he nursed the broken heart he didn’t deserve to have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The thing that I called living was just being satisfied, knowing I had no one left to blame.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The two men were silent for a moment.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Joe reached beneath the payphone that hung on the wall like a lonely reminder of simpler times and grabbed at the thin phonebook, tossing it on the bar in front of Ray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">“I could keep pouring what-ifs into that glass, or you could take your chances, if you’ve got a nerve to.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Ray stared heavily at the mirror again, still trying to recognize the man he saw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slowly he opened the dusty book, turning the thin pages until his finger rested on her name.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">“She’s still here.”<br /><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yeah, took over her daddy’s place there when he died, she’d been without a Mama since she’s just a girl.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ray looked at him with a question in his tired eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“And no, she never did marry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lived with a feller for a long time, but the story went that she just wouldn’t make it official, so he left town a few years back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s made a name for herself around these parts with those paintings of hers, but she stays pretty quiet out on the ranch.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Reaching for his cell phone, Ray realized he’d left it in the cabin of the truck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Joe bounced a couple of quarters at him, and as if in a trance he watched them roll to a stop and fall down on the bar top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">“This one’s on me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bartender smiled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Don’t you think it’s about time?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Ray pushed himself to his feet, still unsure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could walk out of here right now, and nobody else would ever know he’d been here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Indecision hung in the air, shadowed with fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally he moved toward the phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Joe walked off to the other end of the room, pretending to dust off the pool cues in their rack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Searching through the fragments of my dream-shattered sleep, I wonder if the years have closed her mind?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dropping the coins in the slot and lifting the receiver that smelled of many drunken pleadings for forgiveness, Ray pushed the buttons with trembling fingers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Her name was Anne, and I’ll be damned but I still recall her face...</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/uM-5NvdMdCY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">© Kymberlie Ingalls, </span><date day="2" month="6" year="2012"><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">June 2, 2012</span></date><span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; line-height: 150%;">Inspired by the song <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Carefree Highway, </i>written by Gordon Lightfoot</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-17356829874135436552012-05-21T01:39:00.002-07:002012-05-21T02:13:04.102-07:00A Heavenly Fever<div style="text-align: left;">
Well, this has been a shit week. My youth is being obliterated right and left! Such legends are leaving us.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiECFaImKEZNRFmDWdkwzrOh46p_3tYe4o8qs-7fTLwPFQL4kdpeRnKqx3j3-8jI6P-YA43jZk1nFIalVb-pLMtpih-RgqqvIsFYtZV7MzQbWAs786EumahjWz1ATkj6ow_zR6KWqniUHjw/s1600/soundtrack-saturday-night-fever.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" qba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiECFaImKEZNRFmDWdkwzrOh46p_3tYe4o8qs-7fTLwPFQL4kdpeRnKqx3j3-8jI6P-YA43jZk1nFIalVb-pLMtpih-RgqqvIsFYtZV7MzQbWAs786EumahjWz1ATkj6ow_zR6KWqniUHjw/s200/soundtrack-saturday-night-fever.jpg" width="200" /></a>The <a href="http://news.yahoo.com/robin-gibb-bee-gees-dies-62-232633288.html" target="_blank">Brothers Gibb</a> are a part of some of the most joyous moments that I can remember. That's saying a lot, if you know anything at all about my not so joyous life. It wasn't until I met my husband, who is ten years older than myself at fifty, who educated me on the stellar songwriting talents of the younger, purer Bee Gees. I'd known of Barry's collaborative effort with Kenny Rogers in the 80s on one of my favorite albums, but knew absolutely zero about their acclaim two decades earlier. </div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;">
So far as I ever knew, they were the kings of dance. They were the beat behind The Strut. When I held that double album with the shiny black cover and sexy young Travolta on the flashing rainbow of a dance floor in my hands, I couldn't wait to get it on my little suitcase turntable and secretly shake my little six year old body around my bedroom. It was grown-up music! And I loved it. </div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://1.gvt0.com/vi/V1e5h9YSe_k/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/V1e5h9YSe_k&fs=1&source=uds" />
<param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" />
<embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/V1e5h9YSe_k&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;">
Later, as a teen, it was the glue that bonded my friendship with the first real <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ufYYOXiEtxM" target="_blank">Valley Girl</a> I ever knew. She'd just moved up here to the Bay Area, and beneath the modern rock attitude as though she'd just walked in from a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sv1I4q6lOpo" target="_blank">John Hughes movie set</a> lay a girl who had the <em>Night Fever. </em>At first I wasn't sure about Jackie, we couldn't be more different. I was a girl dressed in pastels and sent out into the world, forbidden to take part in most trends of the day. Once we discovered our love for all things disco, something took hold and it's been our only common musical love ever since. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
At my wedding, I threw a curve at Jackie, my maid of honor, and had the DJ play her favorite song from the album, <em>You Should Be Dancing.</em> The poor woman was embarrassed as hell when I shoved her out on the floor to show off her moves, because we had a pretty tame crowd and nobody else would join in. Our friend Bill gallantly stepped out to join her and despite their twenty five year age difference, they were a perfect match.</div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/mPt7ncZw3cQ?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In my twenties, I grew into my inner party girl, and like <a href="http://www.songsiveheard.com/2012/05/last-dance-of-summer.html" target="_blank">Donna Summer</a>, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Faf1ch7Q9XE" target="_blank">Gloria Gaynor</a>, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ChPRxbR12c" target="_blank">Shaun Cassidy</a> and a slew of others, The Bee Gees, including brother <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-xfFqWaK1s" target="_blank">Andy,</a> taught me how to let loose and live like there wasn't a tomorrow, even if only for a night. When the 70s came back around in style, I gave in to temptation and bought a pair of platform heels, five inches high. Then another, and one more to boot - black satin, with an open heel that was tall and thick, criss crossed over my red-painted toes. At long last, I had my <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=edffynKrkaE" target="_blank">Bad Sandy</a> moment!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I never really was a girly girl. When I reflect and search for those brief times throughout my history, they are set to this soundtrack, to these anthems. There is something about disco that brings a girl out of her shell. I am fortunate to have actually been alive when this revolution lived, to see the blossoming of a nation of women who felt free to dance, no partner needed. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Rest in peace, Robin, Maurice and Andy. Somewhere, if there is an "up above," I suspect there's a fever of a whole new kind spreading itself amongst the clouds.</div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://3.gvt0.com/vi/-m9ZP_tTtLc/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-m9ZP_tTtLc&fs=1&source=uds" />
<param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" />
<embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-m9ZP_tTtLc&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-38295149046868019212012-05-20T06:55:00.000-07:002012-05-20T06:55:30.421-07:00The Last Dance Of Summer<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Maybe it’s having turned 40 that put a curse upon the world, but it seems this year that I find myself bidding a sad farewell to pop culture legends that have me longing for a yesterday when they, and I, were invincible.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Well, they.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Many eons ago, I interviewed someone, back when I was exploring my roots as a writer and thinking I was going to take the celebrity world by storm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This comedian gave me my first break, after which I promptly realized I sucked and had better find another use of my skills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Larry said something that I never forgot; “When I was in the third grade, I’d see the other kids playing on the monkey bars and I’d watch them having fun but all I could think was, ‘what’s the point, we’re all going to die anyway.’”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a key joke to his dark, brooding comic act, but not far from reality. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Larry, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bC-NnYzURj4" target="_blank">aptly nicknamed “Bubbles”</a> for his far-from-optimist personality, resonated with me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I’ve always felt <a href="http://www.writerofthestorm.com/2011/10/kites.html" target="_blank">vincible</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Before there was the ‘reality’ fame of today, we had real celebrities who touched our world with a talent, a shine to them that captivated some part of an American dream we wanted to touch, and live, even if vicariously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2mdARQGYZ2jrHIrBeXL6_FUn7yavNqBJWy-m0kVFDn2JzOpUvQod_jqnVft1jZmBr3N_Qy2utnMpU2u-LiiB9pi8A6wgXBOEZieJweSBQw8O59oDDEfWSY3TXE5bb2E-mHJ3qZ1HuMu53/s1600/donna+summer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2mdARQGYZ2jrHIrBeXL6_FUn7yavNqBJWy-m0kVFDn2JzOpUvQod_jqnVft1jZmBr3N_Qy2utnMpU2u-LiiB9pi8A6wgXBOEZieJweSBQw8O59oDDEfWSY3TXE5bb2E-mHJ3qZ1HuMu53/s200/donna+summer.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Before I got this old and began to act sensible in a quiet, consistent way, there were those moments when a song could come on that made me want to drop everything, and dance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Songs that brightened a day, or jazzed up a night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I hear those melodies and memories come like a waterfall, raining down like a crystal shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Often those songs begin with a disco beat, and are sung with the joyful, soulful voice of the era’s greatest talent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We lost that talent yesterday, and while Donna Summer hadn’t had a hit in nearly three decades, the loss was still great. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Being one of the most successful artists of a time that is often looked down upon for its superficiality and encouragement of mindless excess, my iPod would not be complete without the Summer anthology in heavy rotation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I worked for awhile at a <a href="http://kvhs.com/" target="_blank">radio station</a> whose format was metal/goth/grunge, and never was there a more devoted listener base, but one April Fool’s Day I brought in my old vinyls and had a field day with a ‘sudden format change.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The phone lines flooded with these metalheads calling in and requesting <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more </i>Donna.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">When strutting our <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1IdEhvuNxV8" target="_blank">Hot Stuff</a> </i>hadn’t paid off, being a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZ_KbwEVBjU" target="_blank">Bad Girl</a> </i>just wasn’t working out, and the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qht0rCEs-dM" target="_blank">magic that could have been</a> just walked out the door without you on his arm - whenever “Oooooh ohhhhh….” floated through the air, suddenly what might have been a heartbreaking, ugly night became a worthwhile memory because it was the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Last Dance, </i>and there was still a chance at romance because Donna said so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There wasn’t a roof she couldn’t raise.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/vIhnMas6hoo?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">A memory is a priceless thing, and that’s what music is for me – beyond value.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the recent <a href="http://www.songsiveheard.com/2012/04/hey-its-mr-dick-clark.html" target="_blank">loss of Dick Clark</a>, who was responsible for introducing us to a plethora of songs to make us want to laugh, cry, and sing out loud with, this is another blow to my younger days, and there will only be more to follow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I look at music differently now, knowing there will never be the same waterfall feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are no songs I’m going to have a 40 year love affair with, no new artists that will make me feel young again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">It just doesn’t hit home until I’ve lost one of my childhood friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">© Kymberlie Ingalls, </span><date day="20" month="5" year="2012"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">May 20, 2012</span></date><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"></span></div>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-37285471331016574122012-04-19T02:39:00.001-07:002012-04-19T02:48:50.389-07:00Hey, It's Mr. Dick Clark!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/W0pJb68JbE4?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">One man dies, but it is the death of a generation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s a pretty hefty <a href="http://dickclark.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">legacy</span></a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">It’s funny, the twisty turns that affect us in the middle of a day, isn’t it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been staring at my computer screen for two weeks, waiting for the next brilliant words to tumble from my brain to the keyboard, but a circuit broke down somewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Half-thoughts, half-truths, half-assed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then along comes a headline that knocks us back a little.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJOpafPOrFRBTivi_rSyXBKhnzhIz9xUsTsBaS3cxyc1EAhMARvw57zYQ8tkuzSUYWxMvG8kgd7vcTZ2-MP50rMlNxhXfCuaiSFoFozNqndLGv35YqTLkrskPnJis_nEK_H5LfCaffgGo3/s1600/Mom,+Sonny+Me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" qda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJOpafPOrFRBTivi_rSyXBKhnzhIz9xUsTsBaS3cxyc1EAhMARvw57zYQ8tkuzSUYWxMvG8kgd7vcTZ2-MP50rMlNxhXfCuaiSFoFozNqndLGv35YqTLkrskPnJis_nEK_H5LfCaffgGo3/s200/Mom,+Sonny+Me.jpg" width="137" /></a><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">When I was a kid, and fortunate enough to have a rare weekend at my mom’s house, she made sure that time with my older brother and I was well spent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shopping, dinner with the grandparents, Sunday morning omelettes that my stepdad stuffed seriously fat with anything we wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Saturday mornings were hers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;"><br />
After losing the battle to watch the Smurfs to my brother, I’d crawl, defeated, into bed and lay against Mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’d wrap her arms around me, excited as the horns started, Dick Clark smiling in the little set top box on top of the dresser.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The volume went up, and there went any shot at breakfast for the next two hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The woman loved her music.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">My brother would eventually get bored with his superheroes and make his way into the bed too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom would talk about these bands with weird names like The Chordettes, The Coasters, The Marvellettes – and we made fun of them, but then there were songs we knew and liked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">American Bandstand </i>came to a close, it was then time to get on board the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vP5gu9omAYU&feature=results_video&playnext=1&list=PLC4A820A36A56670Bhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vP5gu9omAYU&feature=results_video&playnext=1&list=PLC4A820A36A56670B" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Soul Train</span></a>.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then the three of us would scurry to the kitchen to scramble for a bowl of Cheerios, with extra sugar dumped in ours when Mom turned her back on us, and we’d rush back to the bed for a half hour of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Scooby Doo </i>before the real start to the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/pe96JObaA80?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">Bandstand </span></i><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">kept current with music, but sometimes a hot new act was one Mom knew about long before I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I come from the generation that learned <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Twist & Shout </i>from <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CCyFTK2DnmI" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Ferris Bueller</span></a>, not four mop-topped Brit boys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_JoZS6LgqYI" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">The Bee Gees</span></a> were the hottest disco band that, who knew? were around singing before I was thought of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When this exotic lady with long legs and hair sprouting wildly came to the stage asking <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1124703453"><span style="color: red;">What’s Love Got To Do With It?</span></a></i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGpFcHTxjZs" target="_blank"> </a> </span>in 1984,<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>I was taken with her sexy moves and sultry voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next thing you know, Mom’s playing Ike & Tina on the turntable and dancing like a runaway train.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">The thing with my mom was that she never took on that “old” mentality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All music was great, not just “back then.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was an infectious enthusiasm that she instilled in me in our short years together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Much of my core values were little gifts she gave in between the birthdays, Easter baskets and Christmas stockings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">With a bright laugh, she pulled out <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wd715E0H4Z8" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Paul & Paula</span></a> and sang along, telling me stories of boyfriends and square dances.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe because our time together was so rare, I actually listened without rolling my eyes or looking for the nearest getaway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother was fun, without trying to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow she managed to find the magic line of knowing when to be our friend, and when to take a door off its hinges because I slammed it in her face one time too many.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">The day <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y9FSMSU9mRQ" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Marvin Gaye</span></a> was shot, my mother cried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was of the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zU4i5gyFK1s" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Elvis</span></a> era when girls did that sort of thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I imagine she’d have mourned the loss of Don Cornelius some months back, and I think today would have devastated her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">It seems my generation of 40somethings is the last to feel the loss of Dick Clark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I told my 33 year old friend Josh in passing of the news, it was a faint blip on his radar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Understandably so, </span><place><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">Clark</span></place><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;"> was just the guy on the New Years Eve show that talked funny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But even through the stroke, Dick showed up every year, his eager, tanned face smiling as young as it did more than fifty years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/xH7WpcAZ2yw?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">And that was his talent, his sheer excitement at bringing music to </span><country-region><place><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">America</span></place></country-region><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Vicariously through Dick Clark, we all caught glimpses of a time when falling in love wasn’t something to be afraid of, people weren’t shot just for walking down the street, and we helped one another rather than tuned each other out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe that’s an idealistic view of an endless summer, but that was the beach party Clark invited us to each week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">I fear that with the loss of this cultural icon, the rapid free fall that our nation has seen will win.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">I want this moment to remember Mr. Clark, and thank him for the time spent with Mom, my brother and me, even in the hospital rooms when she shooed the nurses away so she could be lost in two hours of a rare bliss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Saturday mornings were never the same after we lost her..<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suspect the world going forward from today won’t be either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">To everything there is a season; a time to be born, a time to die, a time to dance, a time to mourn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together…</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/iUT4QpHcWGI?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">© Kymberlie Ingalls, </span><date day="18" month="4" year="2012"><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">April 18, 2012</span></date><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;">Lyrics: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Turn, Turn Turn (To Everything There Is A Season) / </i>Pete Seeger</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Souvenir Lt BT"; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>(adapted from The Holy Bible / Book Of Ecclesiastes</span></div>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-53927881145875591122012-02-12T01:51:00.000-08:002012-02-18T14:04:43.906-08:00The Withering Of Whitney<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/KX9b-2k4E1E?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><em><span style="color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Step by step, heart to heart, one by one they all fall down... like toy soldiers."</span></em><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/REf_usjVY_Y/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/REf_usjVY_Y?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/REf_usjVY_Y?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div><br />
<span style="color: white;"> </span><span style="color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Another one down. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEiy_o1OVivE7jaN1UIKJHC25y34uu3qkrAL4_G4wgVCbYWvyXk8sCyyBUiLukGjRfw4TmSaCCjwVzgoot-nZ2RQdIFnkOEsvmP1e2aagEMYMTXtpO7zNwLZdxKmjaybbxVRWaIbctFwcE/s1600/Whitney+Houston.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: white;"><img border="0" height="200" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEiy_o1OVivE7jaN1UIKJHC25y34uu3qkrAL4_G4wgVCbYWvyXk8sCyyBUiLukGjRfw4TmSaCCjwVzgoot-nZ2RQdIFnkOEsvmP1e2aagEMYMTXtpO7zNwLZdxKmjaybbxVRWaIbctFwcE/s200/Whitney+Houston.jpg" width="198" /></span></a></div><span style="color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In 1985, I was fourteen years old, and had my first affair with a married man. In the rare moments alone at home, music would fill the room around me and I'd stare at the exotic looking young woman who laid her soul all over my turntable. I wanted to be Whitney, saving my love for one who secretly longed to be with me. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In the following years, I came to relate to Whitney Houston as a friend, a mentor of men. A sharer of wisdom that echoed my own romantic discoveries. First there were songs of love, then came the dancing that lured girls like myself out of a shy awkwardness and made us believe we could be the star of any ballroom. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: white;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/eH3giaIzONA?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;">I Wanna Dance With Somebody</span></em></div><span style="color: white;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But while Whitney was looking out for her young followers, who was looking out for her? Who was watching as she sunk beneath the glitter and the glory into a dank pit of desperation? The first hint was her all-too-real performance in 1992's <em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Bodyguard" target="_blank"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">The Bodyguard</span></a>, </em>in which she played a musical diva with a drug problem, and what happens when we lose touch with the harsh reality that surrounds us. It was a grittier side of Houston that we hadn't seen until then. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">I didn't want to like <em>The Bodyguard,</em> because as I'd grown with Whitney, I'd also grown with another homespun gospel of wisdom - Dolly Parton. And Dolly had always loved</span><span style="color: #d5a6bd;"> </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gS-F4rfU4ns" target="_blank"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Porter</span></a><span style="color: white;">, and </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_utP1mGoutQ" target="_blank"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Burt</span></a><span style="color: white;">, long before Whitney ever loved Kevin. There was some interview that has stayed with me like a scar where Whitney said the song <em>I Will Always Love You </em>was nothing until she took hold of it. </span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Nothing - a foretelling.</span></div><span style="color: white;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: white;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Qd6VQpe6e5I?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;">I Will Always Love You</span></em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But alas, like the rest of America, I not only fell for the movie and the savage love story of Rachel Marron and Frank Farmer, I fell for the music that surrounded their story too. It was a surging flame of a dying fire, we just didn't see it starting to dim. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;"><em>Waiting To Exhale </em>was, for me, the last ember. What I felt was a brilliant ensemble that showed us more of the real Whitney Houston, it eclipsed the insanity of her offscreen life. Her marriage to Bobby Brown and the subsequent violence, substance abuse and power-tripping antics made her fodder for the entertainment industry and her pop culture status slid further down the backside of the Hollywood hills, where many stars had fallen before her. </span></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: white;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/wrTuV4Szxzo?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;">Waiting To Exhale</span></em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It was on 1995's <em>Exhale </em>soundtrack that I feel, in looking back, that this superstar had taken her last breath. It's rare that I let an artist's personal life influence the effect of their work and my attachment to it, but in Whitney's case, that's exactly what happened. Like Michael Jackson, like the tragic truncated talent of Lindsay Lohan, and like the joke that was once known as Judy Garland, my respect for their contributions and talents waned in what felt like the loss of friends I'd held dear. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Whitney never did climb out of her volcanic self-destruction. I think Oprah said it best for each of us in her landmark 2009 interview, heralding Houston's "comeback" that never happened, in stating that fans were angry with the singer for wasting away her voice, likening her talent to a "national treasure." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: white;">Without a doubt, Houston's voice is one of the greatest of the 20th century. It is my personal opinion that she possessed one of the greatest voices of all time, and I place her above Streisand, Celine, and Liza. It was the spirit of that longing young woman wanting nothing more than to be loved that captured me, and that's who I'll choose to remember this evening, as I listen once again to the album that introduced us to Whitney.<br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: white;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/ewxmv2tyeRs?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"><em>Saving All My Love For You</em></span></div><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: white;">Superstars are only human. Actors, writers, singers and songwriters - we want to place them on pedestals, if only to watch them fall. As artists, we crave the attention. We want to make others feel what we often can't because we've numbed ourselves as a way of protection against the very things that inspire us. Some of us are lucky and can still outrun our demons without the aid of substances but others simply aren't strong enough. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I don't think Whitney ever wanted to be the angel that others expected her to be, I think she just wanted to be. </span></span><span style="color: white;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://2.gvt0.com/vi/QN_8TRawEZY/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QN_8TRawEZY&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QN_8TRawEZY&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Why Does It Hurt So Bad?</span></em><br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><em><span style="color: white; font-family: Times; font-size: large;">(<span style="color: #cc0000;">c) Kymberlie Ingalls</span></span></em></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-86963321268168835862011-10-06T01:48:00.000-07:002011-10-07T00:13:11.728-07:00I Heart My iPod<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/7dAVk-Fhcj4?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">When the first generation of iPod came out, I thought - eh. Ho-hum. This coming from a music fanatic who has spent decades of hours creating mix tapes and burning mix CDs. I felt I was in control of my playlist, it was 90 minutes of my inner DJ coming out to shine. The iPod was a foreign creature to me that wanted to steal my DJ spotlight. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It wasn't until the 3rd generation that it truly became a mainstream must-have. That was when my husband waited impatiently one time too many - we were late for an event because I was waiting for my cd to burn that would accompany us on our drive. That Christmas, Santa left a brand new toy beneath my tree. It was small, white, fit in the palm of my hand - and held one <em>thousand </em>songs all at once! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Then came the tricky part - how to play it in the cars. The hookup wasn't easy, I didn't have a cassette deck so that adapter wouldn't work. Over the years we tried FM transmitters, which weren't too bad - the staticky sound coming through reminded me of the days when FM radio was a new but timid trend. But, that got old after several road trips where it simply wasn't audible enough. Soon it felt like having a Slinky and no stairs. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Another issue came in the form of my growing digital music collection. I spent two years ripping my thousands of songs (only a fraction of them would fit - how the heck do I choose?!) into a hard drive, and transferring them to my iTunes. It was quite a chore; I meticulously filled in all of the information about each song, including the year of its release and the original album artwork - not the 'Greatest Hits' that iTunes so lazily downloaded. So many hours scouring the net for those images. Anal retentive, perhaps, but when it was done I had the biggest, baddest iTunes in the history of Apple. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I was hooked, and have been with every generation since. There was the iPod Photo - oooooh, a color screen! In came the Nano - so tiny, and then came the rainbow of colors! Then there was the Video iPod - I was enamored and promptly set about converting my own DVDs to transfer to my little black gem (oooooh! Black! So glamorous!). The 80 gigabyte hard drive was more to my liking, but still not big enough. It was the iPod Classic that I settled into nicely with the 160 gigabytes that, at last, could handle my media collection (<em>ten </em>thousand songs!).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I decorated my iPods with colorful decals, each one unique. I tend to bond with my electronics, and Apple ranks as one of my greatest love affairs. I didn't use Mac computers, I didn't drop tons of money on Apple-brand accessories like the die-hards did, but my iPods and I were like blood-brothers. Bonded at the fingertips. With the iPod Touch, a skin graft couldn't have brought us closer.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Like with all relationships, the sizzle eventually becomes a simmer, as has been the case with me for the last few years. The iPad garnered much anticipation, but it was simply a larger version of the iPod, and frankly very clunky in appearance compared to the sleek candy-coated look of its smaller counterparts. But, now we're back down to a wimpy sized drive, and Apple's snit with Adobe rendered their lack of compatibility with Flash video very inconvenient for me. The iPad didn't have the convenience of slipping into my pocket or purse. My netbook worked quite nicely for any task the iPad boasted. I've also not invested in an iPhone because the cell companies want to be greedy and clean my bank account with their data charges. <br />
<br />
Now that times are tighter and purchases require more thought, I look to the future that will include an iPhone and an iPad, but my standards are higher. But.. we'll get there eventually.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">My iPod Touch remains the crown jewel of my collection of various sized players. Some I keep in a drawer for nostalgic moments. Some I've managed to part with but never to sell - they were gifted to those in need of such a miracle. I have devoted an entire Nano to just my holiday collection; a pretty purple one that reminds me of blue Christmases. I nickname each of them. My seductive red Nano - The Little Sleep Machine. There's Blackie, Whitey, The Big Kahuna. Each holds a special place in my heart because of the gift they've given me; a song for every possible moment.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">This gift came from a man who was as unassuming as he was innovative. A man who saw the digital future and gave the jaded internet a new life. Music for me, and millions of others, became exciting again - not an easy task but made to seem effortless.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Rest in peace, Steve. Your legacy is the map of a generation, and the bond that brought generations together.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/UF8uR6Z6KLc?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div></div>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-6412283980141225492011-08-10T01:12:00.000-07:002011-08-10T01:32:42.183-07:00Here's To Good Friends...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy0ebh5xhDNV6SogPmdG8Rv70aF0fJUhKYFGlGsT7pVHffAZRNvsUDuNIc1D-CXBqNdqI_jeq2CwR67fyc9Cw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em>Tom Petty - Circus (Walls)</em></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I consider myself blessed to have some of the most amazing friends. Each one is a stone in the path of my life, as I journey my way toward whatever my end may be. Some come and go, some stay awhile, and then there are those who walk beside me for the duration. Whether near or far, virtual or flesh and bone, you are appreciated.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyLR92ap0rLR1XNF9EsZQ44yfctl2LugBGlV-_vXesJy-kGs5KGyoESPR85xq-LEDYiMANi8VI_pE-dOo5DYQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em>Here's To Good Friends!</em></span></div>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-26597514360888703242011-07-23T15:48:00.000-07:002011-07-23T15:48:15.595-07:00Amy's Choice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/IlRF43-xaYc?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
It is rare that I can't appreciate an artist's work because it's been eclipsed so monumentally by their antics, but Amy Winehouse is an exception to that rule. When she first came on the mainstream radar for me, I was too busy to pay much attention. By the time I ever first heard a song by her, her troubles had all been splashed across tabloid after tabloid, with video evidence to back up most of the claims.<br />
<br />
Tragically, Amy had 'short shelf life' tattooed all across her. We can hope the best for these train-wreck celebrities, and some sail through to old age and are the better artist for it. Amy Winehouse wasn't destined to be one. She was someone who took <em>"Live hard and die young" </em>to heart. Her refusal to change was apparent in the song <em>Rehab. </em>While a groovy number with great jams and catchy rhythms, it was a defiant rebel yell to the concerns for her state of mind.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/oGNYmoKsfMI?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
<br />
This isn't going to be a sudden idolization of Amy from the ashes of her tragic end, nor am I looking to make a pariah of her legacy. I'm listening to songs right now, <em>Back To Black, You Know I'm No Good, Stronger Than Me, </em>and I'm hearing what she's telling me. She made her choices, and created a lifestyle, and it eventually claimed her.<br />
<br />
Legacy? I wonder. IHow sad to be leave a legacy of being a tabloid queen, a troubled performer, and someone who couldn't care enough to see the ride through, just another unfinished story that will simply become a <em>True Hollywood Story</em> in a sea of many. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/H4Q79VVw3sw?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-13221490518563339992011-07-13T02:18:00.001-07:002011-07-13T02:20:13.490-07:00Baby, Be Mine<div style="text-align: justify;">Driving down a California highway on a breezy day is the best way to rediscover your pop bliss. I have experienced moments with Shaun Cassidy the likes of which I've never found with any man in the flesh. It's that tingle I get when I hear the opening beats and the tambourine, then the guitar comes in, and soon I am "<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KmrcJe9qD6k&playnext=1&list=PL718EC6A506C24503">Da Doo Ron Ron</a></em></span>"ing all over the place. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Long ago, in a faraway time, I was a little girl with Michael Jackson stickers plastered all over my Trapper Keeper that I carried to classes in junior high, and I was in love with a boy who argued with Paul over who was the better lover, and danced his way into my life with his slick, groovy sounds. Nobody did 'tenderooni' like MJ.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">But then I grew up, and as I did, so did Michael. He morphed into this unrecognizable person that I never quite understood, and I'm not going to sit here and profess to know whether the accusations against him were true or false, but the truth is I have had a very hard time listening to songs that should have been innocent fun - <em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_-3JYuv9w4U">P Y T (Pretty Young Thing)</a></span> - </em>without hearing in a whole new light. And his songs grew more extreme, but for whatever reason I just wasn't getting the message. One could say we just drifted apart.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Today, as the wind tossed my hair around and I thumped on the steering wheel in time with the songs on my party mix playlist, I didn't skip ahead as I've done for so long when I heard the familiar opening notes of this song, <em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Baby Be Mine</span>.</em> It was a brief moment of remembering a moment that I shared with a young man finding his way as I began to do the same. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, for that few minutes, I let myself be young, and I let Michael be young too. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Tw0Y2cdF0T0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
</div>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-4419246197721640912011-07-02T01:54:00.000-07:002014-03-20T17:12:32.729-07:00The Piano Men<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"></span></u></b><br /></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"></span></u></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It should have been a spectacular way to spend our sixth anniversary last November.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rarely enjoy going to big concerts, so large you end up watching the entire performance on a video screen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pointless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Save a hundred dollars and wait for the DVD.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I prefer small venues like the open air Mountain Winery in Saratoga on a gorgeous starry evening where I’ve seen the likes of The Beach Boys, Olivia Newton-John, Kenny Rogers – all idols of mine, and of course the greatest songwriter of the twentieth century, Willie Nelson.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But, this would be an exception.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was two legends on the same stage, side by side, face to face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Alas, thanks to the “pig plague,” as my husband Roger calls it, having struck one of the singers, the concert was to be postponed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not usually one to anticipate things of a good nature, I tend to dwell instead on the worst - but I’d been so looking forward to this evening, and to have it cancelled the day before was such a letdown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, our anniversary concert was now to be our Valentine’s concert, rescheduled in February.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We headed out to the San Jose Shark Tank, also known as the HP Pavilion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fighting traffic all the way, the evening didn’t start well and wasn’t improving with the bland Japanese dinner at a local café.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shelling out twenty dollars for parking was just the icing on the cake!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Making our way through the crowd, Roger and I found our seats in the second to the highest row in the enclosed arena.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The stage looked pretty tiny from where we were in the middle of a long row, and our crowd seemed like they wouldn’t be too out of control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon enough, however, a young couple came to plop in the vacant chairs beside us, bouncing around and giggling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Realizing they were in the wrong seats, they climbed to the row behind us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little did I know how unfortunate that would be!</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Eventually the lights dimmed, and dual spotlights crossed each other as two grand pianos rose up from beneath the stage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, slowly, they entered from either side, walking with the gait of two aged men who’d walked a million miles of stage between them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They met in the middle with waves to the cheers that surrounded them.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There stood Elton John and Billy Joel, two men who had written and sung epic soundtracks that have encompassed much of my lifetime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My eyes stung slightly at knowing I was in the presence of greatness, sure as an artist stands before a painting by Picasso and is transfixed by its agelessness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As they sat at their pianos facing each other, I could hear the beginning of one of my favorite romantic songs tinkling out through the audience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://2.gvt0.com/vi/nQs_7GBHhUY/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nQs_7GBHhUY&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nQs_7GBHhUY&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">“So excuse me for forgetting but these things I do – you see, I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue – anyway, the thing is, what I really mean is yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i><span style="line-height: 150%;">Simple in its words, with the earnest of an everyday love, their voices blended, going on to duet each other’s hit songs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Eventually, Elton took the stage alone, and gave a fantasmic performance with graphics from his colorful albums floating in a sea of lights behind the band.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thing to deter Roger and I from becoming completely lost in the sweeping melodies was the over-excitement of the high-pitched screaming from the row behind us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The young girl’s animated voice pierced our ears over the amazingly loud concert, and as Tone Deaf Minnie Mouse sang and yelled, her inebriated companion shouted “It’s a party!” to which I promptly turned around and “politely” replied “No, it’s a hundred dollar-a-ticket concert that I did not invite you to ruin.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This seemed to quiet them down for a few minutes, but not nearly long enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">The summery ballad <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tiny Dancer</i> that always takes me back to a rare, happy memory of my youth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mysteriously dark <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Madman Across The Water</i>, and the forever rebellious <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Goodbye Yellow Brick Road</i> that evokes a time of survival as I came of age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/zPlqGBOVYP0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; line-height: 150%;">Elton’s gnarled fingers still had a touch of grace as they danced across the ivory and black keys, his voice as powerful as ever as he told tales of wisdom and introspect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This has always been what’s drawn me to his songs – the inner soulful search and an angst that I would come to understand too well as the decades passed me by all too quickly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; line-height: 150%;">“He was born a pauper to a pawn on a Christmas day, when the New York Times said God is dead…”</span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/54CK8p-pDAU?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">After Elton’s commanding set, Billy took his place on the stage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He began with a joke at his own aged expense before he began to pound the keys in front of him in a rollicking frenzy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hi, Billy Joel couldn’t make it tonight, I’m his dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it’s okay, I know all his stuff!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; line-height: 150%;">The songs that followed transcended the memories of my teen years, flowing into adulthood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like Billy, I have grown from an angry young person to someone who has tempered themselves with the time and tide of a long-lived life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ironically, when I hear these songs, the first association I have is my stepmother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This music told a crazy tale of a turbulent time, these heated songs were played over and over to showcase her dislike of life, and of my brother and me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet, over the years, I’ve found my own echo in the words.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; line-height: 150%;">He sang to the appreciative crowd with his early rebel songs such as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Movin’ Out</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My Life</i>, songs about taking a stab at independence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The industrious tribute to the blue collar worker <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Allentown</i> still rings true today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Billy even rocked out with his guitar while “having a senior moment” in trying to remember the tongue-twisting lyrics to his middle-aged revolution <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">We Didn’t Start The Fire.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not bad for sixty plus years of rough living.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/NJBoHa3GArA?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">A church-like atmosphere overtook the stadium with the jaunty rag <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Only The Good Die Young</i>, leaving every woman in the hall wishing that she could be the innocent Virginia he was trying to lead astray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">”They say there’s a heaven for those who will wait, some say it’s better but I say it ain’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints – the sinners are much more fun ‘cause only the good die young..!”</i></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tribal sounds of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The River Of Dreams</i> jubilantly played, from his last original album of music, aptly titled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Famous Last Words</i>, released in 1993.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Few know that Billy did release one more album after, a classical composition that fulfilled a long-awaited dream of his.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; line-height: 150%;">But nothing stilled me such as hearing my own personal theme song, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Always A Woman</i>, played out before the hushed crowd.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of my life I have felt nobody could write a more appropriate song to describe my longings, my quirks, my reasons and rhyme.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a moment of pure shivering magic that I hadn’t felt since seeing Liza Minnelli belting out <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">New York, New York</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember that night vividly, as I’d waited for so long to see such a moment, only for it to be more bittersweet as the strain was apparent in her once magnificent voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still, magic is magic.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/JneUuAN1tTY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; line-height: 150%;">The two icons then joined together once again to lead the crowd in a sing-a-long of such classics as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bennie And The Jets</i>, a song that brought back memories of singing quietly to a sweet little namesake kitten as I nursed her to health.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The golden <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Candle In The Wind</i> with the ghost of Marilyn Monroe vividly reflecting off of the stage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were all carried away to our younger days as they pounded furiously on the ivories with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You May Be Right (I May Be Crazy)</i>, the proclamation of a half-crazed generation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; line-height: 150%;">It was beautifully appropriate when the harmonica sweetly played over the melancholy piano notes as they serenaded us and each other with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Piano Man</i>, the song that introduced the world to a young songwriter named Bill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A song that still encourages us to look around at the people who are stones in a path to where we want to be.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">The three hours these men shared with us are likely to be one of the sweetest memories I will cherish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I listened to each bit of their lives, I reflected on my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It saddens me to watch my idols grow older, but comforts me to know that what they’ve gifted us with are songs in the key of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; line-height: 150%;">”Son, can you play me a memory, I’m not really sure how it goes, but it’s sad and it’s sweet and I knew it complete when I wore a younger man’s clothes…”</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/phVfGKUtkB4?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div>
Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-86993721994795919252011-06-28T11:56:00.000-07:002011-06-28T12:00:01.087-07:00It's All Wrong, But It's All Right<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/znrBGVOcjjE?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;">Song: It's All Wrong, But It's All Right - sung by Michael Johns</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;">Narrated by Kymberlie Ingalls</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Who are we to proclaim what is wrong, and what is right for anyone but ourselves? What decides your moral compass? What guides you? </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Is yours a world of blacks and whites, or are there glorious shades of life that blur the consequences set by others? <br />
<br />
Temptation is a powerful weapon used by some to tease another's mind, and is an aphrodisiac to a mind weary of their mundane lives. <br />
<br />
We all need flights of fancy. Where does your mind wander when called out to play...? What dark sin do you wonder about? <br />
<br />
What is your wrong that feels so... right..?</span></div>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-68836979138145498352011-06-25T11:43:00.000-07:002011-06-25T11:52:57.390-07:00Love Song<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/jJeW8xK4gjM?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">There once was a time when love meant something. Does such a time still exist, in this modern world of isolation and warfare? Is love still something to live and die for? Can we look through the rubble and the dust to see it, were it right in front of us? What is the love that you see? Tell us about it... Tell us your story.</span>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-11101063923399168062011-05-10T23:29:00.000-07:002014-10-06T02:22:15.031-07:00Mean<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyMLNwciBM3Cf9noBoJdiIiXSjHfnku9p0xZS-Llt6sbro3_k6GtSl8tOqyxdj_Osux96Gtes9a1lDabTgCTA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">Taylor Swift - Mean</span> </span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IjmKy64dwts">(mobile users, click here)</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've played this song about five times in the past three hours. My husband asked me "Why do you like this song so much, anyway?" </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: red;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Because it's catchy, kinda funny, and very relevant. I can't help but be taken back to a time when I was just a kid, and thinking just this in my head as the blows came down upon my scrawny little body. "Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me." </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: red;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The thought still crosses my mind today. Karma is a very curious beast. She's usually on your side when you need to be, and we need to hope we're not on the receiving end of her justice. It's quite inevitable - I've had my share doled out to me. I take my lumps, try to learn from them.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: red;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What I don't want is for someboy to think of me as a bully, looking up at me with fear and spite in their eyes, whispering "All you're ever gonna be is mean...."</span></div>
Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-50766488257965674242011-04-13T04:34:00.000-07:002011-04-13T04:37:48.680-07:00Changed For The Better<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/AL5OuzTIgLU?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wicked - Kristin Chenowith and Idina Menzel - For Good</span></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My friends have been on my mind a lot lately. I sense change is on the horizon - losses of many kinds. The thing about friends is that each one is a wave in our ocean, coming and going with the tide. Some are steady and strong, some wash away leaving debris in their wake. Some crash and are gone. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Being an island really isn't the answer to avoiding hurt. Like with anything, joy and sadness are the yin and yang of any relationship. Right now it's difficult to find the joys, but sooner or later my yellow brick road will lead me there.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em>"And now whatever way our stories end, I know you have rewritten mine by being my friend. Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes the sun; like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood. Who can say if I've been changed for the better? I do believe I have been changed for the better... because I knew you, I have been changed for good..."</em></span></div>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-73351611021765931152011-04-08T22:53:00.000-07:002011-04-08T22:53:53.854-07:00Almost Hear You Sigh<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/R5BtUe3LybA?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This song, with it's blend of classical guitar touched with a drop of contemporary to give it a modern feel, takes me back all these years later to a dusty, smoky room with faded wood lining the walls, a dimly lit bar with sad men lined around it, perched on their stools and begging for mercy from their half-empty glasses. There was always one, Ed, who sunk his quarters in night after night, playing this melodic Stones tune, singing out loud to a heartbreak that you'd swear was on the chair next to him, with the way he stared vacantly at it. I don't think she was ever too far away, certainly not far enough away to ease his haunting. </span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ed and I had a bit of a kinship for a bit. Two lonely souls who leaned on each other from time to time. Next time you have another shot of been-done-wrong, think of old Ed and raise a glass to all of those who've come down the line on that same train.</span></div>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-83098477630305859692011-04-03T02:53:00.000-07:002011-04-03T02:56:02.654-07:00Empowerment<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am not a morning person by any means, but on a rare occasion as I'm struggling to wake, I get a song lodged in my head that starts with a slow beat and builds throughout the day until I feel the blast that pushes me into the stratosphere of energy that gives me the boost I need to make it through. </span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><span style="color: #cccccc;"></span></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What is <em>your</em> empowerment song?</span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxqSC5aDWDB68qo89bXS8n6roA0nwFn9K9kyYfv7n5qewX8IXX1CI_pzH9crs-Ps4AR9Z1cj-rZyXTk3OR8cA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uSC6RWB-pAk"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Christina Aguilera - Fighter (mobile users, click here)</span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">________________________________________________</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dziVoxs_EIKEy5KQ6tmFkG7HsPZ3_VLhj4fChaj9fG6UcGn5euxG5_tCo-NDuz9z7hMvWJLX07a4P2nxw5KvQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q_3dNPdwngk"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Reba McEntire - Turn On The Radio (mobile users, click here)</span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">_______________________________________________________</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwNRBPR3FYCUKgeK_gqYqRdhDdpZhaWQ0pBIGbgNP93zgU_cI3O4rkLJyN30zR1ihZlC9DbxOevO809xQuOAQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wHTQNq4UIZo"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Survivor - Eye Of The Tiger (mobile users, click here)</span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">_________________________________________________</span></div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwv3rTvhl-vPJviY2YlCHyIOyfmAxlGHN_Gcc-0MIyWeCnTllsMMMPJwvufw2c1ugEkjkQVZavzydLzTNbNrA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ESQpTZyG0c0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Janet Jackson - This Time (mobile users, click here)</span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">______________________________________________</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy52mUQgHiBJdvwOt0xJNLLXF21RHvH6Df4sODUbEP4_soifRBPYeRi5uKhrhsmoWrvcU2uKiOSGnTPsI0CDg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c3yOtVb2CUE"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Nikka Costa - Everybody Got Their Something (mobile users, click here)</span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">______________________________________________________________</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzfT60aDyhhnIGA6X7DLMGXI7YLXVv-gCcrwLPFjEIosFgPcbdrWCsoTYymsANTXi44u6M3F5XPq54xKSkGUQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFTO3G-LV90"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Gloria Gaynor - I Will Survive (mobile users, click here)</span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">_________________________________________________</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxYt9lRsP-McaromW--hMo7lsYHbz6vO5dCa3ir6tpxM96m4XPagKy14ABHsfUwzM2OUN8Eqvfz8fFJwt4v3Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MLiIgwzmeqo"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Just A Touch Of Love (mobile users, click here)</span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-40998534228814286402011-04-02T01:20:00.000-07:002011-04-02T03:08:44.905-07:00A Bluegrass State Of Mind<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyZyh2sjSmCqz5m8L9SZ5kt0_PH98fBjGJWxTqQ6aNwSYV2p_7BfC1t76dsVOZO6oR2f8NJKedzl6nepKWZXA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qSiiD8eLDwE"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Bela Fleck - The Ballad Of Jed Clampett (mobile users - click here)</span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dya4WQXDrhPrYn_DCFEo-IXIhRDO_smKcZQ9fkuZX8-6fIlzNZnx1CT8AoVBVGI0tZ6wdn1W5XrHJg1qKadmA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_QWj0I7pRHc"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow (mobile users, click here)</span></a></div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwR0VfBIJlRKc8Lu_izueWuGqBtc9QaDkWIthfsnzjdrN22tTqLbEbyUC_RdnY2kdIuHj6G3CN7dwE2P5kNrw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcXzTW7zEm0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Steve Martin feat. Bela Fleck - The Crow (mobile users, click here)</span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwXJe1a5cP2YNAwk5kODTx_InWjozXnT8gO6R2GWvKpQhhhX2tSNj1bgA6rdD4uHrAoO827xvqQJ3IC_1QTzQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nuw5Op7l0Y8"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Cotton-Eyed Joe (mobile users, click here)</span></a></div>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-23657593592825355972011-03-31T02:48:00.000-07:002011-03-31T02:48:57.677-07:00It's Not Easy Bein' Green<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwKyS-a4nsA0Xcq6WeQ3GJF02l24XkcnPaqgTqcitMr-0SyPznzBtOvAvF3cHeVjJ61dTuLrcXt6gkEBLIStA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.writerofthestorm.com/2011/03/deer-female-deer.html"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Writer Of The Storm</span></a></div><div align="center"></div>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-62367502348711191302011-02-14T02:09:00.000-08:002011-02-26T17:08:56.494-08:0030 Day Song Challenge - Day 16<span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Day 16 - A song you used to love and now hate.</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy6SNnmtc55o_bjfGVyO81Y3ovTK8XRc75XFtfG273N8dC6-Mpo_GTdDUMfgnGpN4X2oski8W5-eyRgvgkTWw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Bobby McFerrin - Don't Worry, Be Happy</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-EUdP2fpUU">Mobile users, click here</a></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What is there to say that we don't all know? When it came out, it was catchy, groovy, and oh so wildly popular. I should know - my first job as a telemarketer, and nine out of ten answering machines had this song on it! Ay yi yi. I will say this though - as tired as the song is, watching the video is still worth hearing it one more time..!</span></div>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6964763011646730572.post-5101575500438791002011-02-13T00:06:00.000-08:002011-02-26T17:08:56.496-08:0030 Day Song Challenge - Day 15<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Day 15 - A song that describes you.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dysl75MptMDkKOghLpNYTbioeK_Qurcs9Nsvvjjd8YV-AWa3E6WnYGV3UU55UWsjfr5j_hDZUoXGfiJFfwGSQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Billy Joel - Always A Woman</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iyNXS9_MF1g">Mobile users, click here</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></div><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;">“I am a wise young woman who likes to laugh…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was fifteen at the time of writing that line in a writing exercise in sophomore English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The classic “I am” poem – fill in the blanks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My teacher said that it was brilliant, a fine example of irony.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know about that, but it’s stuck with me all these years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Today, I’d like to introduce you to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In writing about my views, my perceptions, my opinions, and the events in my life, it’s time now to present a more dimensional picture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Often perceived in a certain way, few ever look to see the whole package, and really there is so much more to this book than it’s rigid binding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Never judge a book by its cover.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So it is said, but the fact is that we do judge on the spot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are no saints among us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tell me you’ve never done it, and I’ll spit in your eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, I’m guilty of the deed as well, though when the opportunity was taken to dig, it was well worth the effort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; vertical-align: top;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Someone posed a question to me recently: “Do you believe yourself to be extraordinary, or are you ordinary?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thinking about it, the only answer that came was.. “I am alternative.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Posing the question to others, some of the responses were quite interesting, and at the end of this reading, I invite you to ask yourself the same.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But, back to me, it is what we were discussing, no?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps it’s being another year older than I was yesterday, though I could swear it’s been ten since last August.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a lover, a fighter, and a friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having loved some of the most amazing people, I’ve come through some hard battles to wear my scars proudly – not all metaphorical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Look around me to see friendships that can tell a thousand stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The family photos that you see are much deeper than the glossy, shallow smiles.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Interesting facts about myself: shockingly, I’m not nearly as witty, charming and stunningly beautiful as I appear on paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s out of the closet that I am a “Fanilow” (oh, the longing to be Lola at Barry Manilow’s Copacabana, with yellow feathers in my hair!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have broken my little toes four times on each foot, the most recent being just three weeks ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ouch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Classical music and good conversation turn me on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My online social life is legendary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A collector of things, a hoarder of memories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A pop culture junky, a former disc jockey and current videographer, and an artist.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’ve been writing stories since the age of seven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three years ago an unfortunate incident with an ATV left me wondering about ever walking normally again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My movie heroes are Norman Bates, Jaws, Lorelei Lee and King Kong – ask me why sometime. Annoying my kitties is a favorite pastime, because watching them spin in circles chasing a string tied to their tail makes me laugh hysterically.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’m funny, believe it or not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is inherited from my mother – she was a champion prankster, and “Mischievous” was her middle name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To know me in most situations is not to see my humor, but yes, I can be funnier than a squirrel that’s taken one too many nuts to the head.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Working for a comedy club brought me into marketing and promotions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a knack for that, even thought about trying the stage myself - knowing I can write a good joke because one of the comedians stole a few and performed them without permission, but they got laughs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I even went so far as to look into it again a few years ago, but there’s just one tiny problem that prevents me: stage fright.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ah, what could have been.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My love affair with music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been a groupie of disc jockeys as long as I can remember, and have met some great ones, including the Wolfman himself. Now that was a day to remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Music drew me into this world as I grew older, and off to school I went.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ran our little student station for three years, and had a rather popular on-air show as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For a non-profit station, we had higher ratings in our genre than most Bay Area commercial stations – I spoke to half a million people from that microphone on any given day, and I miss that connection still.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There have been a lot of jobs, having worn the hats of several industries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Retail, restaurants, a nanny (kids were great, the parents not so much), in marketing, in broadcasting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trained to run a bar – but was too young upon graduation, therefore no job for me. I’m going to own a bar someday, though, a quiet little neighborhood pub. I now do video work for the local racetrack as a side gig.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My husband and I own an industrial business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Never lasting very long at any one job, often working two to three at a time, I’ve always soared at the jobs that are not paid for – perhaps knowing I won’t be fired is what frees me.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’m a Leo, and every bit of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stubborn, controlling, argumentative, and opinionated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Complex, moody, frustrating, loyal and fierce.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Forgiving when I want to be, and known to carry a grudge for longer than I can remember why.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Temperamental, but I know the value of an apology.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rushing headlong into life is my way, though have learned to take the lessons that can be to my advantage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a fool – one that’s lost her way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Haunted, wickedly so; this is what brings me just short of being pretty on the inside.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u></u></i></b></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am a redhead, and it happened like this:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Born a blonde - my eighteenth summer was spent working with a guy that had the rudest attitude you ever did see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, we fought so bad, we were fired by the owner’s daughter of this little restaurant every day that we worked together, and yet we just kept showing back up, scheduled or not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day we were going at it and he shouted at me “you know, you really oughta color that hair of yours red so that people will know what a flaming bitch you are as soon as you walk in the door!” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The very next day… and ever since… true story, I swear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that story’s gotten me many a free drink at the dive where I learned to shoot pool and perfect my flirting skills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As you can see, there’s a bit of a storyteller in this old girl.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I am a singer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Literally tone-deaf – but in the car I will sing like I am Janis Joplin on her last performance while the iPod blares in the background.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Balls to the wall and full of soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, no Idol dreams for me.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Then came the party girl – I’d tell you those stories, if I could remember them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A good chunk of my twenties disappeared into those deep bottles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m pretty sure I had a great time doing so, either that or managed to block out some necessary evil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the one where I was caught.. well, that’s a story best kept to myself for now.</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I am spoiled by my husband, and am loved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the tradition of my grandfather, he is one of the greatest men to walk this earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, he has faults, but his greatest gift is </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;">that he puts up with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With all of my quirks, my bumps and lumps and issues, of which there are more than a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">TV Guide</i> subscription.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Above all of this, I am a writer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you for taking this time to get to know me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do hope we’ll chat again soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll be leaving some new words at your doorstep shortly. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #cfe2f3;"></span></div>Kymberlie ~ WriterOfTheStorm.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14331379225481378114noreply@blogger.com0