Smile! Smile! Smile! Part 1

I've been missing in action from a lot of things lately. Splitting up with someone you planned on spending your life with and starting over from scratch sucks toad on it's own, but throw some poor choices and muck luck in the mix and, well, it can get pretty comfortable under a rock. There comes a point though when you remember that there are things that make you happy and life goes on, so you crawl out, dust off, and go get yours.

I've really been into music and art lately. My knowledge is topical at best so I'll spare myself the embarrassment of shooting my mouth off about things I don't have solid grasp on. I just know I likes what I likes. I've never been into chicks with pianos, but lately Tori Amos and Regina Spektor have been making it onto rotation. I pepper in some guilty pleasures from my teen years (real keep it in the closet stuff) and some undeniably good fer ya grumblings (The Clash to Otis Reading), plop on the headphones and get into some work. And art, well, that's pretty broad but that's the way I meant it. From hand thrown pottery to macro lens photography and everything in between. I've even made up my mind to break out the sketch pad and charcoal pencils (sketchy sketcher, but it tempers the fires). The web is ca-razy dope when it comes to educating oneself on anything and everything. If I'd known 15 years ago that I wasn't such an odd ball weirdo geekasaurus, that there are people out there who dig the same junk I do, I could have avoided several bad haircuts and years in an antidepressant haze. Character building I suppose.

I've been reading the butt out of some books too. Even broadened my genres of preference. I mean, I'll always love me some 18th and 19th century British and Russian literature, but I'm giving 20th century writers the ol' college try. This dude I know has pretty salty taste in books and I've cracked a few open with toe curling delight. Emma Woodhouse would be struck down by an aneurysm if she spent 5 minutes with Kevin Sampson, and that ain't a joke. I'm by no means a prude and I've done a lot of living in my 33 rotations around the sun, but the saying is true, especially if you read, that you learn something new every day. I think it's time for me to visit my storage unit though and dig out some of my old favorites. I need a couple chapters on proper English society to absolve my mind of it's recent walk through Brixton with its crack addicted squirrels. But I'll be back. Every good Catholic needs some sin in their life. What would priests do between 3 and 4 on Saturdays otherwise?!

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