Reminder: I hope that everyone reading this submits a video or picture for what I’m officially calling The 2010 Feel Good Project.

Hey, it’s my blog, I’ll post about what I want to post about. :-p And right now, I can’t HANDLE the Grammys.

I love turning on the red carpet pre-show to see what everyone’s wearing. It’s like, my dream to someday walk the red carpet. Not that I really want to be famous, but the dresses. God damn.  The best, though? Ok, admittedly, I’ve been a Fergie hater in the past. No more. Ryan Seacrest mentioned that the Black Eyed Peas seem to have been touring forever. She grabs the mic and sings “IT’S THE NEVER-ENDING TOOOOOOOOOOOOUR-Y.”

If you don’t think that’s hilarious, then we’re not friends. Just sayin’. Fergie = my new hero.

I was on the fence about whether or not to watch the actual show. I usually just tun in to see the dresses and then read the highlights the next day. Buuuuuut…opening act was Gaga, and how could I miss that?

Oh.

My.

God.

Seriously? Did ya’ll see it? It was one of the most elaborate, amazing Grammy performances I’ve ever seen.

The entire set was steam-punk themed (omg, how can you not love that?), and she did a little montage of songs, as is to be expected. Then, they THREW HER INTO A FIRE and when she came out, she was half-burned and playing the piano…WITH ELTON JOHN. Are you kidding me? It was mother fucking Elton John, and they cut together Gaga’s Speechless (my new favorite song by her) and his Your Song, which is one of my favorite songs of all time. And he sings, “…how wonderful life is with Gaga in the world.” Cue crowd going WILD.

I like, almost cried. How lame-o is that? Seriously, it was beautiful.

I’m sure this show is going to have a lot of other great moments too, so I’ll keep watching and perhaps update some more. If you didn’t see Lady Gaga perform, do yourself a favor and find it on YouTube in a few hours or tomorrow. It left me breathless. UPDATE: I found and embeddable version:

Reminder: I hope that everyone reading this submits a video or picture for what I’m officially calling The 2010 Feel Good Project.

Yesterday, I posted a bit about dreams. Today, I wanted to talk about another intangible that’s really important to me – inspiration.

I’m a writer, but more than that – I am a creator. Writing is my heart and soul, but I’m a painter, and I’m a pianist, and I’m a sculptor, and I’m a seamstress, and I’m a cook. And maybe more than that, things I’m forgetting. But the point is that I have this burning need from deep within me to create. I need to feel the sparks coming from my fingers as I put something into existence that wasn’t in this world before, good or bad.

It’s an aphrodisiac. It’s erotic. I understand the girls who swoon over musicians and the artists who roll around passionately with one another in paint. It’s life. It’s drama. It’s this burning in your soul that just makes you feel amazing, especially when you’re sharing it with someone else.

I think sex can be an art, too. The stripes of red his hands make across my ass. The sound of my gasps and his groans in a symphony. The delicious taste of his kisses and sweat and cum. It’s beautiful. Sex like that rises above, onto this other level that I think is nearly impossible to achieve. I’ve certainly had glimpses of it, but rarely the full package. Maybe never. And I’ve had really great sex in my life. I just crave more. I know there is something more out there, somewhere.

Yesterday, a friend said to me that I’m probably the most passionate person anyone could ever meet. That’s both a good and bad thing, because my passion overflows and overwhelms people, but when it is reigned in…I think it could be beautiful. I think I have this deep potential to be such a beautiful person, if only someone would take a moment to see it in me and bring it out, unafraid of what they’ll find buried in my soul. There’s a lot of darkness there, too, and it needs to spill out on the canvas so the light will shine through again.

My world is inspiration. Recently, I’ve sat back down to play, which is always really moving to me. I’m not even that great of a pianist, and I don’t even have a piano like I did growing up – just a keyboard (it isn’t the same, for those of you who’ve never played). In my heart, though, I feel the music, just like I hear the words when I’m writing something. It comes from a place somewhere deeper, and I’m inspired by the most insignificant things. I get mad at myself when I’m consumed with depression, because I don’t see the world.

And without seeing the world, really seeing it, my stories are just words, my music is just a series of notes, and my sex is just motion. I don’t want to just have sex anymore. I want to fuck. I want to make love. And I want both at the same time. I want a guy to hug me tight and slap my face and take what he wants and growl in my ear that he loves me and that I’m his. I want that cliche feeling that we’re one person. I want our souls and hearts to dance, and I don’t want to be afraid that it will end.

To me, that’s the opposite of inspiration – fear. Fear has for too long ruled me, cradled me. It’s a safe place, actually. When you’re afraid, you don’t have to be open. You can’t get hurt, or if you do, at least you can say that you knew it would happen.

It has nothing to do with trust. You can trust someone with all your heart and still be afraid that they’ll hurt you. It’s a bad place to be, and starting today, I don’t want to let fear be my master any longer. I want to be who I am, and not apologize for it or be afraid that people will leave my life or try to destroy me. I want to stop being so afraid of the very people who mean the most to me in life.

Today, I choose inspiration. Hold my hand and choose it with me.

Reminder: I hope that everyone reading this submits a video or picture for what I’m officially calling The 2010 Feel Good Project.

I’m a big believer that dreams are reflections of things in our lives, and for me, they’re commonly a manifestation that inner voice, telling me that I need to do something, like apologize to a friend or stand up for myself. Sometimes, my dreams don’t necessarily “mean” something, but are instead a reflection of something or someone that’s been on my mind. Sometimes, I have horrible nightmares about spiders or bugs crawling on me, usually if I saw a spider in my home that day or someone was talking about spiders. Rarely, though, do I have one of those totally random dreams that doesn’t make any sense at all.

Occasionally…maybe once every year or two, if I’m lucky…my dreams are about him.

Who is he? I don’t know. I can never remember his face. I know that he’s taller than me because I have to lean up to kiss him, and I know he has long hair because I can remember running my fingers through it. Maybe it’s because I’m most attracted to tall guys with long hair. Or maybe that’s part of the reason why I’m attracted to tall guys with long hair. I don’t know. Other than that, I can’t tell you anything about him. I know that he talks to me in my dreams, but I can’t remember his voice, and I know that I kiss him, but I can’t remember anything about his face.

The kisses though…*happy sigh.* I might be one of the few people who can say this, but I don’t have dirty dreams. VERY rarely, I remember having sex in a dream, but it’s always very abstract, and I don’t wake up orgasming or anything like that.

But I have woken up crying from happiness. How lame is that? Whenever I have a dream with him in it, I wake up overwhelmingly happy, like the type of heart-bursting happy that I think is rare to feel in real life.

I first remember having a dream about him when I was maybe 12 or 13. I vividly remember how I felt in that dream, and it’s the strongest memory I have of this man. I can’t tell you the “plot” of the dream, but what I can tell you is that him and I lived in the woods together in a house built around a tree, like the one in the Swiss Family Robinson movie. We lived among fairies, and danced in fields of flowers together in the moonlight. And the kiss…the kiss was perfect.

Another time I remember him in my dreams, we were laughing about something and sitting on a couch. Some of my friends were there, like it was a party or something, but I was all cuddled up on his lap. I remember it just feeling so very safe. Yet another time, I remember laying in bed with him, his arms wrapped around me tightly and him kissing my neck and singing in my ear, singing me to sleep. Just melting into his chest and being his, that’s what I remember.

I had a dream about him not too long ago. We were getting married, and I don’t really remember where, but it was very green and just the two of us and a priest. I was wearing flowers in my hair, and holding his hands, and my dress was flowing in the wind. And he kissed me, and I knew it was him.

He’s the one I long to see every night when I fall asleep; he’s the one who makes me stomach somersault and the one who stirs up such a strong emotion in me that I have a real-life physical response even though it’s just a dream. I don’t always wake up crying, but I did that night, and I have often when he was involved.

Sometimes, I wonder…is this someone I really will meet someday? I don’t really know that I believe dreams tell the future. Maybe. But what I do know is that I’ve never experienced a perfect kiss like that in real life, and I’ve kissed a lot of men. Some of those kisses were actually quite good, too. But no one kisses like he does, this man in my dreams, so I have to wonder – if I was never kissed like that, how do I know how it feels? How can I imagine it and remember it in a dream if it never happened?

It’s always bittersweet when I wake up from a dream that he’s in, because I know I might not see him again for a long time. I try to force myself to fall asleep and fall back into the dream so I can have a few more moments with him, but that rarely works. It’s funny; I never remember anything involving domination, like spanking or anything, but I always have this strong sense that I belong to him.

Maybe I do. Maybe he’s really out there, and maybe someday I’ll kiss someone and just know that I’m meant to be his. That’s what I hope, every time I kiss someone new, and if it ever happens, I will do everything in my power to be with that person forever.

After all, I always think how wonderful it is to fall asleep and meet him in my dreams, but you know what would be even better? Waking up with him beside me every single day.

Reminder: I hope that everyone reading this submits a video or picture for what I’m officially calling The 2010 Feel Good Project. I’ve gotten some emails asking question, but no submissions just yet. I hope that my email is filled to the brim with people celebrating life over the next few weeks. Remember, you don’t have to show your face if you aren’t comfortable, and I’m not looking for nekkidness.

So I met this guy online. Very nice. Emailed back and forth a few times, and I finally gave him my AIM name to chat with me. I mean, he’s very nice.  He’s probably a great catch.

But I just don’t feel anything. I’m numb, trying to have a conversation.

He says “u” instead of “you.”

And he likes spending time in Atlanta.

And his favorite movie is Garden State.

Seriously, how can I date someone who likes that movie?

I want to run away.  I want to run away. I want to run away. I want to run away. I want to run away. I want to run away. I want to run away. I want to run away. I want to run away. I want to run away.

The little things all add up to make my throat close and my nerves twitch.

And yes, I can tell this without an hour of talking to him. To be honest, I knew without a few minutes. He’s not “the one.” I don’t even believe in the one, but if I did, he wouldn’t be it. I crave life shining from my eyes. I need someone who makes me feel alive.

First, I hope that everyone reading this submits a video or picture for what I’m officially calling The 2010 Feel Good Project. I’ve gotten some emails asking question, but no submissions just yet. I hope that my email is filled to the brim with people celebrating life over the next few weeks. Remember, you don’t have to show your face if you aren’t comfortable, and I’m not looking for nekkidness.

Ok, so the title of this post doesn’t like. I’m a needy person. A really, really obsessively crazy needy person. Not financially. I don’t need material things. It’s about time. And love. I tell people this, and they don’t believe me. It’s not even just a relationship thing, even with my friends…I get upset when people don’t have time for me.

Today, despite my good mood and positive outlook on things, something bad did happen, and I ended up having to call the police. It involved this really creepy guy that I went out with a few times last spring. I was kinda upset about the whole thing, and I called a few of my friends just to ask them to be around their phones in case he came to my house or something. I mean, of course, I’ll call the police if he shows up, but…I don’t know, I just wanted to know that I had someone I could call.

And I do. I left messages for three of my friends about what happened, and just asked if they could hang out with their phones tonight, just in case. One called me right back and gave me like, over-the-phone hugs. One jumped online and convinced me to call the police back and get them to call him with a cease communications order. One promised to be by his phone and just let me talk to him for awhile to calm down.

I think, the problem with me is that I look for this kind of relationship ALL the time. I don’t want bad things to happen in my life to feel loved. In general, I think the people in my life know this about me…and are trying. I’m demanding and needy and not always the best friend.

But you know, I’m working on that. I know that I can’t be the most important thing in the lives of my friends 24/7. Someday, I hope to find that person where we can share that…but I know it can’t be that way with everyone in my life. I’m trying really hard to be a better friend and less selfish with everyone in my life.