Skin Tension

passion |ˈpa sh ən| noun: strong amorous feeling or desire; love; ardor.

Whatever happened to passion? The strong yearn to spew your emotions on the dance floor that we call love. The so-called passion that we intertwine with love. Heat. Power. Desire. Lust.

I often find myself wondering what happened to the flame in love. Outside thoughts cause us to think it's something we can buy or have temporarily. You want that flame to burst and stand behind your soulless windows. When you look into your lover's eyes and say "I love you.", your words are supported by the passion that dances behind your eyes.

Passion moves us to extreme emotions that rarely is possible to feel. It creates a spark in your mind that tells you to act on love and feel the rest of the way. We become animals, raw with emotion and a hunger that lingers for eternity.

A Rugby Kind of Guy

Recently my friends and I were discussing what type of man we'd like to marry. We all have different types, but at the end of the day we agree on common things. One of my friends admires the "hipster that went to prep school" type of man, whereas I'm the "James Dean clone with the mysterious gaze" type.

We started to talk about what type of amazingness our future mates must have and I instantly thought about a rugby player. Yes, rugby... Have you seen these men? They're strong, robust and don't care about getting roughed up. I think every girl wants to feel protected.

As little girls we're taught to wait for our Prince Charming's, but after a while I get tired of waiting. I want a confident man to step up and declare his feelings. No relying on a friend or modern technology!

I have to catch myself sometimes when I say that I want a boy. Sorry self, but what I really want is a man. None of this frilly stuff. Mom's of the world, what happened here? Your son's have really declined over the decades...

Hopefully my knight in shining pomade comes along.

Everything is Everything

Lately, I've been having this craving for buying music. I've already spent $50 at the music store on CD's. I can't help it! It's almost as bad as my shoe habit... almost.

I was able to get Jerry Lee Lewis, Fats Domino, Jonny Lang, and Solomon Burke CD's for a really good price at the store. I walked in to buy one book and came out with 4 CD's. Such a shame!

Music has always been that scapegoat for me, though. When I'm upset and get sick of my occasionally robotic life, I just pop in a mellow CD (usually Django Reinhardt), make myself a cup of tea, and slip on my comfiest pajamas. If I'm lucky, there will be a bright moon. I daydream that I live in a meticulously decorated apartment in Paris. I have a handsome man who can serenade me with classic love songs, wear the scruff 'n horn rimmed glasses look, and shares my love for the night. We both look out at the Parisian night sky and immerse ourselves in the atmosphere while I willingly munch on a delicious flaky croissant. I close my eyes and think about my life. I then open them to find myself in my real room. The hawaiian candle casts a rich amber light in my room and the smell of mango, coconut, and pineapple fills my small space. I hear the gypsy jazz from my headphones and realize I'm back to reality. Instead of hot french men, Paris, and croissants I have James Dean on cable, a picture of Paris in my room, and a stale donought I bought a couple of days ago.

So my life isn't exactly movie worthy, but I am glad to have it.