Can't hold us
It always takes me a minute for my brain to kick into writing mode. I sit with my fingers poised over the keyboard, ready for the words to spill from my thoughts to my fingertips. Today is of those days where I know that I want to share my musings with you, but not entirely sure where I'm going with it. Like that annoying friend that phones up just to say 'hi' and then rambles on about nothing in particular for a while. Though to be honest not many people use the old telephone any more so it would be more likely to be the text equivalent.
"Hey"
"Hi, what's up?"
"Nothing much"
Titillating stuff.
*******
And now I start all over again. It's a few hours later, and I've done the school pickups, the pippins drop off, the library run, the family dinner, clean up and now my brain is fried. This should be fun. My writing is always a bit cray cray when I'm tired. (yeah. That's right. I said it. Cray Cray. 'Cos shortening a word and then repeating it so it has the same amount of syllables as the original word makes total sense...)
I just mentally cracked my fingers for the storm of writing that is about to be unleashed. Oh it shall be unleashed. Oh yes.
Yeah, I've got nothing.
I had it. Then it was gone. Poof. I do that all of the time. I'd blame it on baby brain but I'm not with child so that would be a farce. Some would call it an elderly moment, but I'm still hanging on to the last days of my 28th year so it's not that. I'm just forgetful. But I'm awesome. No tall poppy syndrome here. Okay, maybe I'm not totally awesome. Sometimes I snore. And I can't sing to save myself. Everyone at the bar Phoenix on Saturday could tell you that. Someone gave me a microphone. Aretha Franklin was sung. And many many other songs throughout the night, although I didn't force the other patrons to listen to them all via the mike. You're welcome. My voice is still hoarse.
I don't appear to be bouncing back as quick as I used to. I did a pump class last Thursday and I'm still hurting. Did I mention that my instructor is pregnant and was using heavier weights than I was? Even my elbows hurt. Jeesh.
Circling back to Saturday though, I was in Christchurch for work and decided to make the most of it and did a Ron Burgandy call "LADIES, ASSEMBLE" *Fading Echo*
And some of my gals from across the land joined forces to create a long overdue night of awesomeness.
This is a rather uncomfortable 'before' photo. There was no after photo taken but if there was it would have involved messy afro hair (due to the head banging) torn pantyhose (due to walking home barefoot) and a sort of hungry raccoon type look on my face. (Smeared eye makeup and there were no servos open, so I could not attain the pie I so desperately wanted)
I like dancing. And I like watching people dance. You can see their personality shine through their movements. I don't believe in that rubbish about judging people on the shoes they wear and how they take care of them. I believe in judging people in the way that they dance. Just kidding. But it is fun to watch. I'm sure I look incredibly un-co when I cut up some shapes, perhaps even a little like a monkey, all arms and jumping but man do I enjoy it. At least when there are good songs playing. Man in the mirror has not place in a pub. Do you hear me? NO PLACE! I like MJ but I want to dance to something that makes me jump up from my seat. Shame on you DJ at the RAT. Yeah, he's not reading this.
This one was my favourite. I was singing it all morning. In my head. Because my voice hurt and I don't know any words but the chorus.
And, I'll leave it at that for now. I need to go make some banana loaf.
"Hey"
"Hi, what's up?"
"Nothing much"
Titillating stuff.
*******
And now I start all over again. It's a few hours later, and I've done the school pickups, the pippins drop off, the library run, the family dinner, clean up and now my brain is fried. This should be fun. My writing is always a bit cray cray when I'm tired. (yeah. That's right. I said it. Cray Cray. 'Cos shortening a word and then repeating it so it has the same amount of syllables as the original word makes total sense...)
I just mentally cracked my fingers for the storm of writing that is about to be unleashed. Oh it shall be unleashed. Oh yes.
Yeah, I've got nothing.
I had it. Then it was gone. Poof. I do that all of the time. I'd blame it on baby brain but I'm not with child so that would be a farce. Some would call it an elderly moment, but I'm still hanging on to the last days of my 28th year so it's not that. I'm just forgetful. But I'm awesome. No tall poppy syndrome here. Okay, maybe I'm not totally awesome. Sometimes I snore. And I can't sing to save myself. Everyone at the bar Phoenix on Saturday could tell you that. Someone gave me a microphone. Aretha Franklin was sung. And many many other songs throughout the night, although I didn't force the other patrons to listen to them all via the mike. You're welcome. My voice is still hoarse.
I don't appear to be bouncing back as quick as I used to. I did a pump class last Thursday and I'm still hurting. Did I mention that my instructor is pregnant and was using heavier weights than I was? Even my elbows hurt. Jeesh.
Circling back to Saturday though, I was in Christchurch for work and decided to make the most of it and did a Ron Burgandy call "LADIES, ASSEMBLE" *Fading Echo*
And some of my gals from across the land joined forces to create a long overdue night of awesomeness.
This is a rather uncomfortable 'before' photo. There was no after photo taken but if there was it would have involved messy afro hair (due to the head banging) torn pantyhose (due to walking home barefoot) and a sort of hungry raccoon type look on my face. (Smeared eye makeup and there were no servos open, so I could not attain the pie I so desperately wanted)
I like dancing. And I like watching people dance. You can see their personality shine through their movements. I don't believe in that rubbish about judging people on the shoes they wear and how they take care of them. I believe in judging people in the way that they dance. Just kidding. But it is fun to watch. I'm sure I look incredibly un-co when I cut up some shapes, perhaps even a little like a monkey, all arms and jumping but man do I enjoy it. At least when there are good songs playing. Man in the mirror has not place in a pub. Do you hear me? NO PLACE! I like MJ but I want to dance to something that makes me jump up from my seat. Shame on you DJ at the RAT. Yeah, he's not reading this.
This one was my favourite. I was singing it all morning. In my head. Because my voice hurt and I don't know any words but the chorus.
And, I'll leave it at that for now. I need to go make some banana loaf.
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