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So it begins...
So here I go again, trying to meet someone online. I've done this before, not on this site, and find that it required a thicker skin than I have. The 98% rejection rate is a bit disheartening.
Why are all the really attractive ones “waaaaaay o
Have you ever noticed that most, if not all of the people you see on this website who are, at least to you, the most attractive and desirable ones, always seem to live “waaaaaay over there“. What I mean by “waaaaaay over there”, is that they live about a million miles away...actually it’s probably more like thousands, or many hundreds of miles away, but it might as well be a million miles away.
Some of us have jobs that may pay most of our bills and even allow us some leisure time, but it probably doesn’t pay enough to include regular weekend getaways from here (Kingston) to there (California, BC, Eastern Europe, Asia etc.) to visit someone you or I met or saw online.
For instance, I just ran a fairly picky search but didn’t specify distance. And there you have it, gorgeous woman after gorgeous woman. At least gorgeous women to my eye and mind. You see, like most of you, I actually do read care about what people have to say in their profiles. Compatibility and commonalities are as important as appearance.
Anyway, getting back to the superficial - namely gorgeous women “waaaaaay over there“. The list is like this, based on my own personal, subjective criteria. I see a dazzling blonde from the UK, a stunning red head from Germany, a real beauty from California, another stunning blonde from Arizona, a total knock-out brunette from where else? BC. Then there is the “like oh my gawd” exquisite blonde from Bulgaria. Yeah, there are a few hundred more from all over the planet, but I think you get my drift.
And before anyone jumps all over me complaining that I’m just not paying enough attention to the lovely ladies from my own area let me set that record straight. We all know about “chemistry” even if some of us failed it in high school. There are biased reasons we pick the ones we pick and we have no control over that. It’s not a slight to anyone in particular, local or other wise, its just the way we’re wired.
Having said all of that, we (mostly me) have some really superficial reasons we select one human over another. One of the mixtures of selective groupings for me is - Blonde (see paragraph 4), west coast Canada (style), tall (as opposed to short), thin(ish) but not skinny, a little make-up but not too much (I like to actually see who I’m with), smart and creative without being arrogant about it, non-religious and preferably petless (yeah, I’ve made my choice - godless and dogless), and finally, and most importantly - a willingness to talk to me.
All the other stuff like personality convergences and conflicts, strengths and weaknesses, s*xual preferences and freedoms, and so on, are discovered when two people spend enough time together to learn about each other. That’s the problem with most the attractive ones being “waaaaaay over there“, we never have the time to really get to know each other.
Some of us have jobs that may pay most of our bills and even allow us some leisure time, but it probably doesn’t pay enough to include regular weekend getaways from here (Kingston) to there (California, BC, Eastern Europe, Asia etc.) to visit someone you or I met or saw online.
For instance, I just ran a fairly picky search but didn’t specify distance. And there you have it, gorgeous woman after gorgeous woman. At least gorgeous women to my eye and mind. You see, like most of you, I actually do read care about what people have to say in their profiles. Compatibility and commonalities are as important as appearance.
Anyway, getting back to the superficial - namely gorgeous women “waaaaaay over there“. The list is like this, based on my own personal, subjective criteria. I see a dazzling blonde from the UK, a stunning red head from Germany, a real beauty from California, another stunning blonde from Arizona, a total knock-out brunette from where else? BC. Then there is the “like oh my gawd” exquisite blonde from Bulgaria. Yeah, there are a few hundred more from all over the planet, but I think you get my drift.
And before anyone jumps all over me complaining that I’m just not paying enough attention to the lovely ladies from my own area let me set that record straight. We all know about “chemistry” even if some of us failed it in high school. There are biased reasons we pick the ones we pick and we have no control over that. It’s not a slight to anyone in particular, local or other wise, its just the way we’re wired.
Having said all of that, we (mostly me) have some really superficial reasons we select one human over another. One of the mixtures of selective groupings for me is - Blonde (see paragraph 4), west coast Canada (style), tall (as opposed to short), thin(ish) but not skinny, a little make-up but not too much (I like to actually see who I’m with), smart and creative without being arrogant about it, non-religious and preferably petless (yeah, I’ve made my choice - godless and dogless), and finally, and most importantly - a willingness to talk to me.
All the other stuff like personality convergences and conflicts, strengths and weaknesses, s*xual preferences and freedoms, and so on, are discovered when two people spend enough time together to learn about each other. That’s the problem with most the attractive ones being “waaaaaay over there“, we never have the time to really get to know each other.
Migraine - part 2
At the time of my last migraine incidence, about a year and a half ago, I visited my doctor who had given me a prescription for a drug that is used to relieve migraine headache. It does not prevent or reduce the number of attacks, but will reduce the effects of one in progress.
I hurried to my local drug store, prescription in hand, and asked, which is my habit, how much this drug will cost. The prescription was written for twenty doses. The total cost - $338.00. Or $16.30 for each tiny little tablet.
At that time I was stumbling through, shall we say, a financially embarrassing period. Paying $338.00 for one prescription was simply not a possibility for me so I declined the migraine medication. Disappointedly, I left the drug store empty-handed and could only hope I would not have another attack before I could afford to purchase the much desired drug.
Nearly a year past by and I had not had a new migraine experience so the urgency to fill my migraine prescription slowly fell into the back of my mind. But that oversight was soon to be resurrected.
A few months ago I found myself in the same drug store filling a prescription for an unrelated condition. As I stood near the druggist’s counter waiting for my prescription to be filled and while I aimlessly thumbed through the various pamphlets there I overheard the words, “Good thing I have a drug plan or I wouldn’t even bother.”
I looked to my right to see who had spoken those words and recognized the speaker as Peter Milliken. I have the greatest respect for Mr. Milliken and his accomplishments, but then, remembering turning down a needed medication the year before, I flared with anger at the carelessness of those words.
Clearly my indignation was rooted in the fact that Mr. Milliken is a high ranking member of the ruling federal party and that my tax dollars are paying for his drug plan. A plan that is not available to me and others like me.
Of course Mr. Milliken had no knowledge of my predicament from the previous year so I bit my tongue and said nothing. The fact that I have no medical plan that covers drugs or dental procedures is not his fault. Its simply an abysmal shortcoming in universal medical coverage.
This short story is just a personal example of how a multi-tiered medical system operates, a system that has in fact existed for many years when prescribed drugs for serious conditions are considered.
The health decisions I and many others need to make on a daily basis do not exist for those who are in a position to pay for additional coverage or for those who have employers, public or private, who have arranged group coverage.
And, as we head inexorably toward an even wider ranging multi-tiered system these critical health decisions will be made more commonly by the average Canadian.
For those of us who do not have a medical plan now, and who will most certainly not be able to afford the additional “free market” medical coverage the future indeed looks bleak.
This time around, and since my financial situation has improved somewhat, I asked the pharmacist to give me, at least, the minimum quantity of the prescribed cerebral vasoconstrictor that he could. It cost me $109.89 for six pills to allay the fears I harbour about future migraine attacks and the loss I feel when suffering one of those onslaughts.
Members of parliament are covered for these sorts of events, I am not. Well, nobody ever said life was fair.
I hurried to my local drug store, prescription in hand, and asked, which is my habit, how much this drug will cost. The prescription was written for twenty doses. The total cost - $338.00. Or $16.30 for each tiny little tablet.
At that time I was stumbling through, shall we say, a financially embarrassing period. Paying $338.00 for one prescription was simply not a possibility for me so I declined the migraine medication. Disappointedly, I left the drug store empty-handed and could only hope I would not have another attack before I could afford to purchase the much desired drug.
Nearly a year past by and I had not had a new migraine experience so the urgency to fill my migraine prescription slowly fell into the back of my mind. But that oversight was soon to be resurrected.
A few months ago I found myself in the same drug store filling a prescription for an unrelated condition. As I stood near the druggist’s counter waiting for my prescription to be filled and while I aimlessly thumbed through the various pamphlets there I overheard the words, “Good thing I have a drug plan or I wouldn’t even bother.”
I looked to my right to see who had spoken those words and recognized the speaker as Peter Milliken. I have the greatest respect for Mr. Milliken and his accomplishments, but then, remembering turning down a needed medication the year before, I flared with anger at the carelessness of those words.
Clearly my indignation was rooted in the fact that Mr. Milliken is a high ranking member of the ruling federal party and that my tax dollars are paying for his drug plan. A plan that is not available to me and others like me.
Of course Mr. Milliken had no knowledge of my predicament from the previous year so I bit my tongue and said nothing. The fact that I have no medical plan that covers drugs or dental procedures is not his fault. Its simply an abysmal shortcoming in universal medical coverage.
This short story is just a personal example of how a multi-tiered medical system operates, a system that has in fact existed for many years when prescribed drugs for serious conditions are considered.
The health decisions I and many others need to make on a daily basis do not exist for those who are in a position to pay for additional coverage or for those who have employers, public or private, who have arranged group coverage.
And, as we head inexorably toward an even wider ranging multi-tiered system these critical health decisions will be made more commonly by the average Canadian.
For those of us who do not have a medical plan now, and who will most certainly not be able to afford the additional “free market” medical coverage the future indeed looks bleak.
This time around, and since my financial situation has improved somewhat, I asked the pharmacist to give me, at least, the minimum quantity of the prescribed cerebral vasoconstrictor that he could. It cost me $109.89 for six pills to allay the fears I harbour about future migraine attacks and the loss I feel when suffering one of those onslaughts.
Members of parliament are covered for these sorts of events, I am not. Well, nobody ever said life was fair.
Migraine - part 1
Anyone who has ever suffered from migraine episodes will be fully aware of the effects this condition has on daily life. In my case an entire migraine incident, from start to finish, takes about two days, including recovery time. Luckily I only experience migraines about once a year or so, annoyingly though, in my case, is that they usually come in clusters.
During this past week I had an all time low of two in a row, on succeeding days. This translates to four days of pain, bewilderment and anger.
During one of these events the anger I feel comes from the sense that time has been arbitrarily stolen from my life since I cannot function in any useful way. The bewilderment comes from the attack itself which robs me of clarity of thought. The anger also comes from a lack of knowledge as to why it occurred, and what triggered a particular incident of migraine.
There are many slightly differing definitions of migraine, but the most concise I’ve found is:
“Migraine is a type of recurring headache that involves blood vessels, nerves, and brain chemicals. Sensations such as visual changes, called auras, may precede a migraine. A migraine occurring with an aura is called classic and without aura is called common. Patients may experience a migraine several times a week or once every couple of years. Migraines may be so severe that they interfere with a patient's ability to work and carry on normal activities. “
In my case I have a cruel forewarning that a migraine is on the way by means of distorted vision or as mentioned in the preceding paragraph, an aura. The reason I use the words “cruel forewarning ” is because included with the highly recognizable growing symptoms that foretell an oncoming migraine is the knowledge that I will soon experience significant pain.
This is how a migraine works in my world: It begins with a slight greyish speckling in my field of vision. Normally its located slightly down and to the left but grows toward the centre and causes a nearly uncontrollable blinking response. This speckling effect gradually becomes intense enough to create a sense of double vision.
Its much harder to decide on the location of this doubled vision than the speckling effect though and seems, after a few more minutes have passed, to cover my entire range of vision. The true “aura” then starts its slow growth across my eyes.
It begins as a slight flashing of colour far down and to the left in the peripheral field of vision, which is a quite typical location for most who suffer migraines. The aura takes on the shape of a pulsating wriggling snake which flickers and sparkles with colours similar to a churning kaleidoscope.
It moves as sidewinder snake would move up and to the right, toward the centre of the field of vision. This colourful flashing snake does not so much repeat itself in simple succession, as if it had a beginning and an end. It is simply there and actively moving about.
The snake gradually grows in width and frequency after a few minutes have past until my vision is so distorted that recognizing distinct shapes becomes nearly impossible. At its worst the distortion alters my entire range of vision. My full scale of colour perception changes into colours previously and normally unseen. In some cases most common colours are replaced with lighter or darker shades of their true selves, as is the contrast between them. During severe attacks, colours seem to shift toward the negative as seen in photographic film.
This is also about the time that my mind begins an inevitable shift into an altered sense of perception. Sounds, tastes, and smells become different. Simple analysis of common events and sights become alien and harder to grasp. Some people experience speech difficulties and other unsettling physical discomforts.
During this past week I had an all time low of two in a row, on succeeding days. This translates to four days of pain, bewilderment and anger.
During one of these events the anger I feel comes from the sense that time has been arbitrarily stolen from my life since I cannot function in any useful way. The bewilderment comes from the attack itself which robs me of clarity of thought. The anger also comes from a lack of knowledge as to why it occurred, and what triggered a particular incident of migraine.
There are many slightly differing definitions of migraine, but the most concise I’ve found is:
“Migraine is a type of recurring headache that involves blood vessels, nerves, and brain chemicals. Sensations such as visual changes, called auras, may precede a migraine. A migraine occurring with an aura is called classic and without aura is called common. Patients may experience a migraine several times a week or once every couple of years. Migraines may be so severe that they interfere with a patient's ability to work and carry on normal activities. “
In my case I have a cruel forewarning that a migraine is on the way by means of distorted vision or as mentioned in the preceding paragraph, an aura. The reason I use the words “cruel forewarning ” is because included with the highly recognizable growing symptoms that foretell an oncoming migraine is the knowledge that I will soon experience significant pain.
This is how a migraine works in my world: It begins with a slight greyish speckling in my field of vision. Normally its located slightly down and to the left but grows toward the centre and causes a nearly uncontrollable blinking response. This speckling effect gradually becomes intense enough to create a sense of double vision.
Its much harder to decide on the location of this doubled vision than the speckling effect though and seems, after a few more minutes have passed, to cover my entire range of vision. The true “aura” then starts its slow growth across my eyes.
It begins as a slight flashing of colour far down and to the left in the peripheral field of vision, which is a quite typical location for most who suffer migraines. The aura takes on the shape of a pulsating wriggling snake which flickers and sparkles with colours similar to a churning kaleidoscope.
It moves as sidewinder snake would move up and to the right, toward the centre of the field of vision. This colourful flashing snake does not so much repeat itself in simple succession, as if it had a beginning and an end. It is simply there and actively moving about.
The snake gradually grows in width and frequency after a few minutes have past until my vision is so distorted that recognizing distinct shapes becomes nearly impossible. At its worst the distortion alters my entire range of vision. My full scale of colour perception changes into colours previously and normally unseen. In some cases most common colours are replaced with lighter or darker shades of their true selves, as is the contrast between them. During severe attacks, colours seem to shift toward the negative as seen in photographic film.
This is also about the time that my mind begins an inevitable shift into an altered sense of perception. Sounds, tastes, and smells become different. Simple analysis of common events and sights become alien and harder to grasp. Some people experience speech difficulties and other unsettling physical discomforts.
Thoughts on how to get Grandmas' phone number.
Ahh, the cool sense of irresponsibility. There’s nothing better in the world than working for yourself, as long as it pays some of that actual cash now and then. Even though I do have a night job that pays a mere pittance I’m going to take the time to write some entertaining blogs once in a while.
That’s clearly a benefit for you gentle readers, but I gain something from it as well. It means, mostly, that I get to be that aforementioned irresponsible. Also, I get to sit here at my keyboard, ignoring the cable bill and the one from the hydro company too. All the while peeking out of the corner of my eye through the living room window just in case that extremely attractive grandma I’ve seen a couple of times walks by the house with her grandkids.
My cover story would be the following, if she happens by again that is. I’d run outside and begin sorting through the recycling bin or something. Then with a deft wave and a wink to one of her grandkids I’d say something like, “Hi there little fellow/girl (what ever the case may be.) That would be quickly followed by, in a fairly high and desperately cute tone, “Do you recycle stuff too?” Clearly hoping to open a conversation with the little tyke.
It really wouldn’t matter one way or the other if the cute little youngster responds or not because I have other plans afoot. At some predetermined moment I’d look up at grandma and say, “She/he looks just like one of my grandkids. Aren’t they just so darned cute. Especially when they have to go home. Ha, ha, ha”
Well okay. You see were I’m going on this so I’ll cut to the chase. Her response might be something like, “Hey good lookin’” Well maybe not that. I haven’t been good lookin’ since August of 69. But a guy can dream can’t he?
Anyway,I figure she’d either stop and talk awhile or call for the cops. Either way a conversation would be opened. One would involve a jail cell while the other would more likely involve dinner and a movie. Hey wait a minute. Jail would probably involve dinner and a movie too, but let's not go there...shudder.
Feeling generally like I can’t lose on this one I’d push the conversation forward to what I do in my life. I’d tell her that I was working on a new column (I freelance write for the local rag now and then) or a new stained glass panel today. I’d tell that my primary purpose in life is to make other people feel better about their lot in life and a lot of other junk like that.
Before she has a chance to start thinking that “here’s another one of those over-the-hill artist wannabes” I’d switch the conversation back to little Bobby or Susie (whatever the case may be.) And then just as quickly shift to her and what she does/doesn’t do.
Once we’re talking about her, and if I don’t feel the least bit drowsy by her response, then I’d add some general small talk. You know, things like. “Come around here often?” or “Is your husband still alive?” Just clearing the air and making sure the runway is clear, if you get my drift.
Trust me. It won’t take long before I’d have a phone number in hand and a...hmm, let’s see, oh yeah a spring in my step. After we wave goodbye and I watch her walk down the street for awhile I’d go back into the house.
Once back at my desk I’d grab the phone and dial the number she just gave me and hope like hell that I don’t hear somebody answer by saying, “Good afternoon. AIDS hot line.” or something to that effect. If I just hear a nice hello or get an answering machine I’d make like one of those annoying little people trying to sell a cemetery plot in some godforsaken outback, then hang up.
Just think about this. Gorgeous grandma and I might make a good couple one day. And, as I sit here day-after-day writing blog-after-blog for your enjoyment, I can keep an eye out for other stray grandmas while I completely ignore paying my bills. So, as you can see, being irresponsible can be a way of life for some of us.
That’s clearly a benefit for you gentle readers, but I gain something from it as well. It means, mostly, that I get to be that aforementioned irresponsible. Also, I get to sit here at my keyboard, ignoring the cable bill and the one from the hydro company too. All the while peeking out of the corner of my eye through the living room window just in case that extremely attractive grandma I’ve seen a couple of times walks by the house with her grandkids.
My cover story would be the following, if she happens by again that is. I’d run outside and begin sorting through the recycling bin or something. Then with a deft wave and a wink to one of her grandkids I’d say something like, “Hi there little fellow/girl (what ever the case may be.) That would be quickly followed by, in a fairly high and desperately cute tone, “Do you recycle stuff too?” Clearly hoping to open a conversation with the little tyke.
It really wouldn’t matter one way or the other if the cute little youngster responds or not because I have other plans afoot. At some predetermined moment I’d look up at grandma and say, “She/he looks just like one of my grandkids. Aren’t they just so darned cute. Especially when they have to go home. Ha, ha, ha”
Well okay. You see were I’m going on this so I’ll cut to the chase. Her response might be something like, “Hey good lookin’” Well maybe not that. I haven’t been good lookin’ since August of 69. But a guy can dream can’t he?
Anyway,I figure she’d either stop and talk awhile or call for the cops. Either way a conversation would be opened. One would involve a jail cell while the other would more likely involve dinner and a movie. Hey wait a minute. Jail would probably involve dinner and a movie too, but let's not go there...shudder.
Feeling generally like I can’t lose on this one I’d push the conversation forward to what I do in my life. I’d tell her that I was working on a new column (I freelance write for the local rag now and then) or a new stained glass panel today. I’d tell that my primary purpose in life is to make other people feel better about their lot in life and a lot of other junk like that.
Before she has a chance to start thinking that “here’s another one of those over-the-hill artist wannabes” I’d switch the conversation back to little Bobby or Susie (whatever the case may be.) And then just as quickly shift to her and what she does/doesn’t do.
Once we’re talking about her, and if I don’t feel the least bit drowsy by her response, then I’d add some general small talk. You know, things like. “Come around here often?” or “Is your husband still alive?” Just clearing the air and making sure the runway is clear, if you get my drift.
Trust me. It won’t take long before I’d have a phone number in hand and a...hmm, let’s see, oh yeah a spring in my step. After we wave goodbye and I watch her walk down the street for awhile I’d go back into the house.
Once back at my desk I’d grab the phone and dial the number she just gave me and hope like hell that I don’t hear somebody answer by saying, “Good afternoon. AIDS hot line.” or something to that effect. If I just hear a nice hello or get an answering machine I’d make like one of those annoying little people trying to sell a cemetery plot in some godforsaken outback, then hang up.
Just think about this. Gorgeous grandma and I might make a good couple one day. And, as I sit here day-after-day writing blog-after-blog for your enjoyment, I can keep an eye out for other stray grandmas while I completely ignore paying my bills. So, as you can see, being irresponsible can be a way of life for some of us.
Sunday has been no day of rest...
I washed the car, dismantled and repaired the seat belt on the driver's side - there's this weird little spinning top kind of thing in there which drives the ratchets that can make it freeze up, very cool- I actually have no idea what I did that fixed it, I took it apart a few times and kept doing it until it ran free again; did two loads of laundry; went to the supermarket and did my week's marketing (yeah, that will last till Tuesday when I'll decide I just have to have____ and it won't have been on today's list);watched two DVD's and wrote the reviews;tidied my closet (aaargh);cut my hair; cleaned the kitchen; messed it up again cooking; cleaned it again;came here read my email and responded and now I am putting the day in order in my mind.
Lot of cool poetry springing up around me which is nice because I have been thinking about putting my 9/11 stuff here. It is time to let it breathe and let it all go.I think. Maybe. Maybe not.I'll think about it.
On my way to the supermarket I took my favorite road fron highway 1 up to highway 2 passing the Sandy Lane Country Club. It is all beautifully manicured grass contrasting with an abundance of bougainvillias in myriad colours tumbling down the smooth green slopes. The sky was blue and cloudless and the sun splashed vivid light every where and there were long moments when I was the only one on the road with the flowers and the sun and the gleam of the sea off the edge of the land.
It's after 11:00 now so I'm for bed and my book. Perhaps some tea and cake first or there is always chocolate...
Lot of cool poetry springing up around me which is nice because I have been thinking about putting my 9/11 stuff here. It is time to let it breathe and let it all go.I think. Maybe. Maybe not.I'll think about it.
On my way to the supermarket I took my favorite road fron highway 1 up to highway 2 passing the Sandy Lane Country Club. It is all beautifully manicured grass contrasting with an abundance of bougainvillias in myriad colours tumbling down the smooth green slopes. The sky was blue and cloudless and the sun splashed vivid light every where and there were long moments when I was the only one on the road with the flowers and the sun and the gleam of the sea off the edge of the land.
It's after 11:00 now so I'm for bed and my book. Perhaps some tea and cake first or there is always chocolate...
Tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow
"Tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out! Out! brief candle
Life's but a walking shadow
A poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And is heard from no more
It is a tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing"---William Shakespeares "Macbeth"
This is undoubtedly the most famous soliloquy in modern written literature. It comes from the play titled Macbeth. This is the tale about greed, misery, death and ultimate sorrow. Macbeth portrays his suffering after loosing his wife and realizing the pain that he has caused to those around him so eloquently and beautifully. Historians and literature critics alike dispute the interpretation of this soliloquy but it is clear that as Shakespeare completley mastered the art of written work he would only want us to continue to speculate about its true meaning. That is the utter beauty about Shakespeare to me, ambiguity and debate is heard and felt all through his writings. My interpretation of this passage is quite simply, tomorrow never comes. It is a figment of our imagination, a hopeless illusion that never ever seems to appear.
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out! Out! brief candle
Life's but a walking shadow
A poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And is heard from no more
It is a tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing"---William Shakespeares "Macbeth"
This is undoubtedly the most famous soliloquy in modern written literature. It comes from the play titled Macbeth. This is the tale about greed, misery, death and ultimate sorrow. Macbeth portrays his suffering after loosing his wife and realizing the pain that he has caused to those around him so eloquently and beautifully. Historians and literature critics alike dispute the interpretation of this soliloquy but it is clear that as Shakespeare completley mastered the art of written work he would only want us to continue to speculate about its true meaning. That is the utter beauty about Shakespeare to me, ambiguity and debate is heard and felt all through his writings. My interpretation of this passage is quite simply, tomorrow never comes. It is a figment of our imagination, a hopeless illusion that never ever seems to appear.
Thoughts of me
Thoughts of Me
Thoughts of me,
Like the maple leafs on a tree
Thoughts of me make feelings warm
Like a buttery cob of corn
Thoughts of me seem so far
Unlike a kid with a candy bar
Under a watchful eye
Never to far
Thoughts of me
May make you cry
And if it does
I wonder why
Thoughts of me
Will never die
Just like a monarch butterfly
Or the clouds in the sky
Thoughts of me
May come and go
Like a kid with a yoyo
Always ready to go
If thoughts of me
Bring tears to you
It’s because the thought
Must have got caught
Thoughts of me
Began to fade
Like bugs scattering from a can of raid
But remember this
They are all thoughts of me
Thoughts of me,
Like the maple leafs on a tree
Thoughts of me make feelings warm
Like a buttery cob of corn
Thoughts of me seem so far
Unlike a kid with a candy bar
Under a watchful eye
Never to far
Thoughts of me
May make you cry
And if it does
I wonder why
Thoughts of me
Will never die
Just like a monarch butterfly
Or the clouds in the sky
Thoughts of me
May come and go
Like a kid with a yoyo
Always ready to go
If thoughts of me
Bring tears to you
It’s because the thought
Must have got caught
Thoughts of me
Began to fade
Like bugs scattering from a can of raid
But remember this
They are all thoughts of me
Some friends
Some Friends will
Some friends will come and go
But a true friend will take it slow
And by doing this, it will show
Some friends will.
Some friends will lend you a hand
Others are musicians and play in a band
Some are so real unto you
Other would steal, unlike you.
Some friends will only call on the phone
Others will only want your ringtones
But the best ones will stick by you
Like a open bottle of glue.
Some friends make me laugh
Some make me cry
Other I seem to look at
Shake my head and wonder why.
Some friends will only want
Some will only give
But a good mixture
Make it easier to live.
Some friends will come and go
But a true friend will take it slow
And by doing this, it will show
Some friends will.
Some friends will lend you a hand
Others are musicians and play in a band
Some are so real unto you
Other would steal, unlike you.
Some friends will only call on the phone
Others will only want your ringtones
But the best ones will stick by you
Like a open bottle of glue.
Some friends make me laugh
Some make me cry
Other I seem to look at
Shake my head and wonder why.
Some friends will only want
Some will only give
But a good mixture
Make it easier to live.
A guy like me
A guy like me.
A guy like me so far away
And yet close enough
To be hurt once again
A guy like me is awesome
In many ways
A super dad of 2
A big fan of Winnie Pooh
A guy like me will make you cry
You just don’t seem to understand
SO why even try
A guy like me, wears a heart of gold
Not in chest but on sleeve
For all to see
And some to enjoy
But remember I am a man
And not your toy.
A guy like me so far away
And yet close enough
To be hurt once again
A guy like me is awesome
In many ways
A super dad of 2
A big fan of Winnie Pooh
A guy like me will make you cry
You just don’t seem to understand
SO why even try
A guy like me, wears a heart of gold
Not in chest but on sleeve
For all to see
And some to enjoy
But remember I am a man
And not your toy.
A Blog is a journal you may enter about your life, your thoughts, interesting experiences, or lessons you have learned. It's your own page on Connecting Singles that you can update on a regular basis, or just whenever you have something to say. You can write about an opinion, impart words of wisdom, or talk about something interesting in your day. Creating a blog is a good way to share something of yourself with Connecting Singles members. Reading blogs is a good way to learn more about members you have met here. Please be sure to read the blog rules before posting.
Would YOU like to post a blog on Connecting Singles? Have you written blogs that you'd like to share with other members? Posting your blogs shows your skill and creativity and helps members get to know you better. Your blog will appear on the Connecting Singles Blogs page and also in a link on your profile page. Click here to post a blog »