rare moment

I'm having a rare moment (rare lately anyway) where I feel the need to make a commitment to my need to change my patterns of writing and doing creatively. I've been a little bit focused on money-making writing work lately (aka, semi-soul-sucking, or at least not directly contributing to my soul-feeding, purpose-of-life work). And I am itching for the music life again (and the worded life that is my own words written for the sake of my own thoughts and feelings and not to report on something already in existence).

I blame Spotify for this "compelling" second of expression. And, for some reason, tonight, this itchy feeling was sparked by Natasha Bedingfield's album Strip Me. (I am a closet Bedingfield fan, and "All I Need" got me all worked up, as did "Little Too Much." The second song is sticking for no particular reason, since it's really just a dagger in my sad little heart because I'm pretty sure I'm going to be eternally lovelorn/single ... but maybe that's to give me writing material. If other people knew how much I loved "mainstream" pop people like Bedingfield and also Pink, I would probably be shot ... but what can I say? I love to write a good pop song more than I love tShow allo write just about any other thing.)

Oh, and my website is under construction ("for realsies" this time). I'm going to really get that sucker going. I even have webmail now. If you are reading, and you can guess what it is (julia@ the rest of what I just said), then feel free to quench my loneliness by writing me. There will be a blog again eventually there. It will be slightly more "professional" than this one, but is still part of my never-ending quest to be that rare very genuine person whose private and public lives match. We'll see ...

And, I leave you with this ditty, that is oddly feeling like the current soundtrack to my current decade-long (and counting) movie "New York Career Girl Seemingly Trying Endlessly and Fruitlessly to Find the Balance between Love and Life-Passion Ecstasy:"



p.s. Thank you to all the people and things that have continued to remind me what it feels like to fail. Without you, none of my words (and none of the write-worthy, song-worthy points of my life) would exist.