"Anything less than mad, passionate, extraordinary love is a waste of time. Too many things are mediocre in life, and love should not be one of them." *** "Without you, todays emotions would be the scurf of yesterdays" *** ... Now and then I leapt to heaven on another's stroke or kiss, lent to me to keep me going in this sure direction. Afterward the same affection that I saved, assigned to you only grew. I always knew that you would find me and so I did not bother scrawling each and every new address on cloud or curb stone. Why? I was waiting, you knew the rest... *** I am not fit for consumption en masse. I am an acquired taste, like dark chocolate, or a French wine that smells like cat piss and tastes like heaven. I'm a 26 year old college student in Shippensburg, Pa. I've lived all over the country. I'm an English major with a minor in Music. I play several instruments including flute, piccolo, oboe, tenor sax, and I've been studying violin for the past four years. I also give private lessons on flute, piccolo, and violin to beginning students. I won't be bound up by a few pretty words, not by myself nor by others. Not that I have a problem being bound, if the conditions are just right. I tend to write a lot, but I suppose that goes along with being an English major. Sometimes I write something that almost sounds intelligent, and sometimes I write crap. I'm always on the look out for a muse or two or twelve. I love the sea, the beach, warm weather, chocolate from Europe, and red wine. I chain-smoke and I drink a lot of coffee. My hands shake all the time, particularly when I'm nervous or in front of people. I paint my toenails on rainy days, or when I know I'm going to wear flip flops. People ask me, "Why?" a lot of times--not always because of my toe nails mind you, just in general. Most of the time I appear pretty normal, and I'm never quite comfortable with that. From a distance, I'm likeable, even loveable; Up close I'm real mess. I pity those close to me sometimes, and cherish those that stick by me anyways and always have a warm chest for me to lie my head upon when its grown weary. I'm child like most days, and real monster when I'm stressed out. Sometimes I break down and have a good cry simply because I need to. I read into things very carefully, much to the dismay of others, at times. I love looking at peoples hands and watching them move.I also love: The way a warm cup of coffee feels against my cheek Being home, and warm, and nude, all day long. The way sand on the beach feels between my toes. Sad songs that transcend mere the superficiality of despair. Hugs from behind, with hands round my chest. Orchestral music from Disney cartoons. The way peoples faces light up when they see something they really like in restaurants, especially the faces of foreigners when theyve found something in America that they only thought they could find at home. Large fireplaces, tall windows, sheer draperies, on dark stormy nights. I just want to be truly seen, and understood at least to some extent. I'm done, for now. Livejournal And Myspace MySpace