Enchanted Celtic Music | 432 Hz Nature Music | Magical Forest Sounds

 You know...sitting here browsing on my computer, watching things..some of this, some of that,  you tube, blogs, pinterest, etc. I realize, some of the art I'm seeing  (usually touted as 'new ideas') I've done before..years ago when it wasn't of interest to anyone. 

Only me. 

People thought I was crazy, people poo pooed it..art was only on a canvas hung on a wall. 

I've done them and gave them up and moved on to what was acceptable. 

After negative reactions to my 'art' (not because it was bad,..but because it wasn't worthy to be called 'work' AKA....the x)
I finally just moved on and didn't do art anymore. It wasn't looked at as a viable way of life, a decent living or even sometimes a moral one. 

I gave up so much of me because I followed what everyone else said was 'just and right'...Everyone else. (X)
Pay attention to that phrase..""Everyone else. Here's the rub." Everyone else" is gone. And now, it's only me.

Only me.

And the creative, wild and sassy artist I once was has been dead and buried for a long long time. Just like the musician I once was. Squished down so hard, scorned and looked at like *I* wasn't viable. *I* wasn't doing 'anything with my life'. (aka 'working') Dead. Dead. Dead. 

Now I get pissed off when I see people on You tube making the things I once did in my youth, and becoming well known for it, making money on it and most importantly being themselves. Being an influence on the free spirit of others by being themselves. Being free to be themselves. And for me..it's only me. No free spirit, no creativity, no influence.

Only me. 

I wonder if resurrection can occur twice in a world?

I remember so many times saying " i want my job to be my art...I want to make things" and everyone else said 'it can't be done'...everyone else said 'people aren't going to buy homemade things'... everyone else said 'you're wasting your time'. (There is no more 'everyone else...it's only me.)

Who was to blame for this death? There must be a murderer among us. Who is to blame? Only me.

Only me. 

Sage, the only me

Well well well. Here we go.( Useless RANT AHEAD)
I have come very far in life, far enough to know that I don't need anyone elses rules and regulations dictating who I am. 

I can't believe that some people have become so pansy assed  that they cannot stand a 'simple' cuss word..and really..is it even a cuss word? That word being 'hell'. It's a place according to  Christians and many other religions. For the life of me how a place is deemed a cuss word..well that's like saying 'mars' is a cuss word. Maybe I should use Pluto since we kicked him to the curb! And for that devout Christian that deleted my post..I want to make sure you understand..HELL is a PLACE and if your Priest, preacher , father or Mumbo Jumbo king talks about it how the fuck will you deal with it ..delete them too?? Let's not forget your  good book mentions it..are you going to banish it from your existence?? 
Can  people have their heads up their ass so far that they must dictate every thing every person within their realm  says or does?? Seriously.

So..I made a post..and I used the word "hell" 2 x's .and made the mistake of also typing the phrase "that'll go over like a fart in church".. My post was deleted. DELETED..for Hell and fart. OHMYFUCKING gawd! Are you for real?? 
Well, I'm just a stubborn ol crone of a Taurus..so when I discovered this, I went through every post I had made, or replied on (I found most at least) and deleted those bitches and left the group. Will it make a hill of beans to those that were in the group..nope. But it made a hill of beans to me. They were not my tribe. And this I now knew for sure. Accept ALL of me as I am or accept NONE of me! Period.

I'm a cussing, pot smoking, wine drinking (both on occasion) crone! I'm a hippie out of time a teen of the 70's. I'm a crafter in all things artsy fartsy and of the craft to boot..witchcraft that is. Like me  and accept me as I am, or not at all. 

I am having the hardest time finding a tribe honestly. Seems I'm the last of a dying breed. A breed of old farts that aren't afraid to spew the proper cuss word when it fits, when I find it works.. Damnit it all to hell..I'm an adult not afraid of using adult language! What has happened to those like me?? Where are they?? 

Seriously though, I don't know if I have a tribe, or if I do I feel I shall never find them. 
I'd like to. 
I'd like to find just the right tribe that would golden girl with my ass into a home that we could live in till we croaked. But, seems like 'merica' doesn't want us old farts to have that type of freedom..they've done just about everything they could to make that impossible and almost illegal!  

Brits can do it, Canucks can do it, even the ladies in Africa can do it..but 'mericans'?? fuck no. "Merica doesn't make any money off you finding freedom. So that means you're not allowed to do it. 

All that said and done, I'm not sure I'm cut out for 'social media'. I'm thinking it over. 

Till next time...
Sage, the cussword queen!

 First..an FYI. Just to let you know, I don't post for you...I write for me. Read it or don't..doesn't matter much really. 

With that being said. 

Life has taken such a strange turn as well as series of events over the past year or so. Sometimes I'm totally not sure how to deal with it all. 

Things aren't exactly as I thought they were and I'm not saying this is a good thing or a bad thing. It just is and perhaps soon I may find out what it's all about..life that is, my own, where I don't consider anyone else. 

I shall talk in code that I understand, and you the dear reader may never. 

The two dreams

The first dream is non existent, truly a dream of a dream it never comes to a reality. It comes in silence. The silence laced with a care deficit is immense, ever and again overpowering. 

When that silence is broken the heart cries with angry bitter tears the color of rage. Never seemingly understood and always misunderstood. Words fly, eyes spark in anger and the chasm widens. 

The thoughts of  loving family flutter as ashes beside the imaginary hearth into the wisps of the dream. Gone. Grasping in the morning light what you can never remember though try as you might. 

The second dream is a silver lining, the deal or so the illusion. Progeny allotment torn from the weaving of life by the stroke of the gavel.  Control the love or love the control as a king in a castle. 

Empathic hostility for the intrusion. Animosity with each bite. Let the tears fall where they may drummed on the throne. Offspring be damned, seclusion and solitude must remain and and so be it! 

The time is mine and not yours, they love one more and lo' that cannot be. Control the love or love the control. Soon erased the venerable will be and gone will find life truly alone.