tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55151010491176844522024-03-05T11:21:22.142-08:00Passions for PurpleMusings of a purple soprano type A personality trying to make her way through life.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.comBlogger181125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-63335101522785648282019-01-19T14:13:00.002-08:002019-01-19T14:16:41.807-08:00Codependent friends<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;"><b>I love my friends. I love them for their kindness, their big hearts, the laughter they bring me, the comfort they give me, their generosity, and their wonderful ways. I love them for their flaws, their warts, their shortcomings, and I am lucky they love me the same way. I'm not perfect, nor am I always the easiest person to be around. I am stubborn. I am VERY type A. I am sometimes impatient and sometimes I say the wrong things. </b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;"><b>I try to be a good friend and even when things get difficult, I don't want to abandon anyone. But sometimes it's hard. Nobody said friendships (or any relationships) would be easy. It's a rocky road and with a few exceptions, it's worth it. Here's where it gets sticky. I am stalling because I feel that putting it in writing makes me a less kind person than I want to be. I'll just jump into the deep end and say it. Codependent friends wear me out. There I said it. I think I'll go hide under a rock now.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;"><b>As soon as I come out from under the rock, I'll say that I don't dislike my codependent friends. I want the best for them and I try to help them. I listen with an open heart and I try not to give unsolicited advice--after all, sometimes we don't want anyone to "fix" it, we simply want to be heard. If I am asked for advice, I will give it. I believe it's ok to take time for yourself and not to worry constantly about pleasing others. We are not obligated to put others' happiness before our own. We are not obligated to put ourselves in a place of misery and sadness just to ensure that others are content. The truth is, that others would most likely be just as happy if not happier to know that we do things for ourselves that fill us up--that make us feel whole. </b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;"><b>What frustrates me even more is that these friends are so sad. I see and feel their sadness, their emptiness, and their loneliness. One can certainly be lonely yet not alone. No matter what I suggest, there's always a "yeah but". I guess that's part of the codependency pattern. The "yeah but" is connected to being afraid to disappoint someone by making a choice that makes you happy. No matter how many ways I try to explain that we can have "both and", these people are unable to process that for they are entrenched in this thought process of "if I do something for myself, it's selfish and others will be disappointed or unhappy". </b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;"><b>I know it's not true, but sometimes I feel like yelling and saying "if you're not willing to try and change, then stop complaining." That's probably not fair. Or kind. Sigh.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;"><b>When I come out from under my rock, I'll say all of this. Until then, I'll just hide and put off seeing these people because every time I do, I feel bad. </b></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-34455629096384693652019-01-17T15:59:00.003-08:002019-01-17T15:59:28.918-08:00Do you ever dream bigger than you can define?<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;"><b>Lately I have been thinking about my career. I love what I do, but there's something missing. I have a dream, but I don't know how to define it. That's so weird because usually, I would say, well if you cannot define it, then you don't know what it is. But I do know what it is. Maybe I should say I don't know what to call it. I want to do what I'm doing either on a larger more meaningful scale, or in a way that hasn't been done before. I want to do things like write, speak, present, mentor, consult, teach. I want to use everything I have learned in my career and do those things. What is that even called? How do I make that a career? I'm reaching that age where it's either time to settle in and accept that this is my life, which isn't really a bad thing, or step out of my comfort zone and move on to bigger things. I have the experience, the knowledge, and finally the confidence! Ok, maybe not ALL the confidence because I still haven't gone out there and figured out wtf I can do to make all of this a reality. </b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;"><b>I feel this longing to reach new heights and connect with more people. I want to be able to network, attend conferences with likeminded people and people who can teach me things I never knew I wanted to learn. Again, the question....how do I get there? How do I do that? Do I "just do it" as Nike says? I've always been careful--too careful and when I look back I wonder if I missed out on great opportunities because I was too cautious. I don't know but living a life of "what ifs" isn't productive. I need to focus on what I am going to do--what I'm doing to do NOW. I just need to figure that out. </b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;"><b>If you have any suggestions, let me know. Does anyone even read this? I started out as a "I love routines" blog and somehow morphed into "what is my life and other random musings". Then I transferred some other blog entries from an old site (don't ask) and they're out of order, which if you read from the beginning, makes me insane. </b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;"><b>On that note, I'll leave you to ponder what I've said here.</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;"><b>Until next time....</b></span><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-16385634793433105832019-01-03T17:42:00.001-08:002019-01-03T17:42:42.713-08:00It hurts my heart<b><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;">Why is it that one small thing can stab me in the heart and seemingly nullify all the good of the last week or so? Why don't people have the guts to confront others in the moment when they feel they've been wronged? A week later and I don't even remember enough to be able to apologize more than by just saying I'm sorry for offending you. I don't even know what I did. I don't remember saying or doing what you claim I did. How can that be that I have no idea what happened and the other person is CERTAIN I spewed out a hateful remark. Sigh. I try to live by the adage "sometimes it's better to be happy than to be right". It's hard when I constantly find myself letting the other person be right. That should leave me being happy? I don't know anymore. I do the best I can and it seems I fall short too many times.</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;">So much for all that therapy and groups I attended over the years. I thought I had learned coping skills and become more mindful of my feelings and those of others. Apparently, I haven't changed. I still find out (after the fact!) that I've fallen short of my expectations and others' of me. The thing that hurts the most is that someone would think so little of me to say that I would say or do something so incredibly hateful. Do they really think that? Have I put on a face of evil that the world sees instead of the kind, generous, helpful person I thought I was? </span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;">Once again, I sit here feeling like a failure. I thought I raised my self-esteem but now I have to dig out of the dirt again.</span></b><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-65581294183343481852019-01-01T01:48:00.001-08:002019-01-01T01:49:24.684-08:00A New Year, A New Start<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">Where has the time gone? It's January 1, 2019. How long will it take me to remember to write that on checks, contracts, etc? </span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">Every January 1, I feel a sense of excitement and dread. Excitement that it's a time to start fresh, start new habits, improve myself, and be more intentional in everything I do. Dread because time flies and forces me to face my mortality as well as that of my parents and friends. But let us focus on the good.</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">I am working on having achievable goals. I know that breaking things down into small pieces ensures success. I am going to work diligently on doing just that. I want to feel successful and instead of making lofty goals that are too big to face at once, thus making me feel like a failure after a week, I will break down those goals into small chunks that are bound to be successful. I also want to practice what I preach which is that just because I didn't achieve a goal, it doesn't mean I failed. I start again from where I left off (note I did not say from the beginning). </span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">Goals for January</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">Stay on budget for eating out ($40/mo)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">Put $50 more into savings than last month ($12.50/wk)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">Lose 8 pounds (2 pounds a week)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;">1 day a week without dairy </span></b><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-5931132700655945012018-10-17T20:13:00.001-07:002018-10-17T20:13:53.729-07:00Fired up and ready to vote<span style="color: blue;"><b>I am FIRED UP and ready to vote. This country needs some saving before it disintegrates into a pile of ashes. Or worse. We need a blue tsunami, hurricane, tornado, whatever it takes to vote those old white out of touch racist, bigoted, misogynistic, jackasses OUT. VOTE VOTE VOTE! Do not stay home. Do not say you have no way of getting to the polls. Vote by mail, get a ride, Uber and Lyft will give FREE rides to polls. Do not stay home. I repeat DO NOT STAY HOME! Make your voice heard. Make it heard loud and clear. BLUE BLUE BLUE BLUE!</b></span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><b>#votebluenomatterwho</b></span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><b>#VoteTheGOPOut</b></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-69536778518197231322018-09-29T21:02:00.001-07:002018-09-29T21:07:32.462-07:00Shouting into the void<span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>I am SO angry right now. After watching (and screaming at) the TV on Thursday, I am in utter disbelief that anyone with half a heart and part of a soul, could think this woman made this up or is lying. Yes, some of the memories might be fuzzy and certain events may not have happened exactly as she remembers them--it was THIRTY SIX YEARS AGO! I would say the same for the man screaming and crying for hours on end. I'm sure he doesn't recall things perfectly either. And no, having a calendar, playing football, going to church, and having friends who say you're a great guy, does NOT MAKE YOU INNOCENT. This guy was unable (unwilling) to answer any question while the woman answered every question and admitted if she didn't remember or wasn't sure. She never flinched, she never wavered, and she was courteous the entire time. He, on the other hand, made himself look like a donkey's behind. Actually, that's an insult to donkeys and their backsides. He exhibited clear signs of alcoholism and uncontrolled rage. He LIED and he doesn't care. And even though the committee before him probably believes he committed this heinous act, they either don't care or they are too cowardly to go against their party. FUCKING COWARDS! They'd rather be accepted by their asshat peers than actually have a conscience. Fuck them with a sharp and rusty stick.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>And we wonder why people don't come forward. When they're young, they are scared, feel guilty, and maybe even ashamed. Some feel maybe it was their fault. Those who do come forward are told it wasn't that big of a deal and besides, it probably was all in fun. Nobody believes them. When they get older and have the courage to come forward, they're asked why they didn't say anything when it happened. Either way, NOBODY BELIEVES THEM. They are harassed, they receive death threats, they're forced to move out of their homes, and people still wonder why they didn't come forward before. THIS IS WHY! This has to change. What if it were your daughter? Your sister? Your wife? Your best friend? Your Aunt? Your grandmother? What if it were YOU? We cannot stand by and allow this to continue. Stand up and fight back. And NEVER back down. </b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>Everyone who is registered to vote, needs to get out and vote in Nov. VOTE BLUE and keep the waves in motion for 2020. #enoughisenough #VoteThemOut #VoteVlueNoMatterWho</b></span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-88392365108538214222018-09-04T12:52:00.000-07:002018-09-04T12:52:14.759-07:00Unschooling is just an excuse <span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>Unschooling is a controversial subject to be sure. Basically, it's learning through living your life. From what I see, it's simply not going to school, having no accountability for learning anything, and an excuse to stay home and do whatever you want. Many people say these kids can go on to college and have successful careers. Ummm....how do you apply to college when all you've done is do what you feel like? Maybe you went to a museum and learned about science but that doesn't replace a science class at school. And what about the arts? Foreign language? And yes, I'm including a bilingual family. There are other languages to learn besides your native ones. </b></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>I think unschooling is neglecting your kids and/or catering to their desire to stay home. It's a complete joke. It would be a very special child who actually ventured forth to learn more than a few things in an unschooling environment. The philosophy includes children learning what they're interested in and pursuing those things. So if a child isn't interested in math, they don't have to learn it? What about things they have no idea about and don't have a chance to find out if they're interested? </b></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>Sorry, but unschooling is a bad idea. Just my opinion, of course. :)</b></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-10699410142362871032018-09-03T20:08:00.000-07:002018-09-03T20:08:07.152-07:00Numbing out<b><span style="color: #674ea7;">Sometimes the emotions are too strong. Sometimes I want to stay out of jail. My friends don't have bail money and neither so I. So I refrain from telling someone they are a f*king twatwad and other things, and instead enjoy a large adult beverage. I may or may not be under the influence right now so who knows wtf I am writing. I cannot and will not be held responsible for this. Seriously.</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #674ea7;">Why do people feel like they can just chime in after the fact and claim they were there the whole time. They make you feel like YOU are the one who misunderstood but if you apologize for that, they only sort of accept it and insist they are right. WTF ever. You be right. I'm happy. So fuck you. Yeah, I'm happy.</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #674ea7;">It's not my job and it never was so good luck doing it your damn self. I'm out. </span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #674ea7;">Ranteunt exeunt fuckyou-eunt.</span></b><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-4093518628060838592018-08-31T18:31:00.004-07:002018-08-31T18:31:47.755-07:00I love it. I hate it.<span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>I love my job. Every day gives me happiness and joy in knowing I am helping people become the best they can be. Watching them grow by leaps and bounds, makes my heart sing. This is what I never knew I always wanted to do. </b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>I hate my job. The higher-ups are shady and the district is dysfunctional. The organization is burned out, tired, and unmotivated. Ideas are thrown around but never come to fruition. Dreams are stated, but nobody does anything to make them come true. I flounder when I really want to swim. I wither while I want to flourish and thrive. Without the support and interest of the people I need, I can't do this anymore.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>I'm not one to settle, but sometimes I think I should just go back to what I was doing before and try to find the cushiest, highest paying job to do it. It's not what I really want, but it's still something I love. But that's not me. I don't settle. I don't do that anymore. But I'm doing it now. I need to leave this situation and find one that's better--more stable and supportive. </b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>I've given myself a year to secure a new position. This makes me scared, sad, excited, elated, and angry all at once. I never thought it would come to this. I love my job and though they may not always show it, the people I work with/for are good people with big hearts. They're just tired and ready for someone to take over for them. But those are excuses and excuses don't pay the rent. I need to move on. One more year to enjoy this and find every reason to remember why I took this job in the first place.</b></span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-81120221108216991382018-08-29T10:31:00.003-07:002018-08-29T10:31:34.216-07:00Old News<span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>You may have noticed I have added a large collection of entries from the past--the long past. These are blogs that were posted elsewhere and I left them to sit, simmer, and part of my hoping they would disappear. I am glad they didn't disappear because they remind me of who I was and who I am today. I have included them here so they will not dissolve nor will they fade away into the dark never to be seen again.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>It's important to document feelings, thoughts, victories, losses, and everything in between. I see the ideas develop and sometimes there's a common theme and suddenly a turn in the road where the theme changes completely. That's ok, because we as humans change throughout our lives. Sometimes it's good to take an unexpected turn and seek out new adventures. Having done that 4 years ago this month, after a year of preparation I only half believed in, I am thrilled that I took the risk. I'm not a risk taker by nature, but when I was talking with a friend the other day, I realized that's not true. I am a risk taker. I do things other people would be too timid to do even if they dream about it. They are not only afraid of change, but they are convinced that where they are is where they should be even if it's not. And they know it. It made me sad talking to my friend and seeing her eyes light up when she spoke about where she knew she wanted to be and then her face falling when she told me all of the reasons why she couldn't be there. The reasons were excuses and words to hide the fear. I hope she takes the risk one day and flies freely to where she wants to be. I hope she can truly be happy without trying--without settling--without desperately seeking out that small spark even if it lasts only a moment.</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>Just because you want to fulfill your dream doesn't mean you are disappointing others. It may, in fact, be the opposite. They may cheer for you because they always knew.</b></span><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-15243026682717571612018-08-29T10:21:00.002-07:002018-08-29T10:21:15.267-07:00<h2 class="date-header" style="background-color: white; color: #8632ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; letter-spacing: inherit; margin: inherit; padding: inherit;">Sunday, February 24, 2013</span></h2>
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<a href="http://sapphiresoprano.blogspot.com/2013/02/making-my-millions.html" style="color: #888888; text-decoration-line: none;">Making my millions</a></h3>
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Starting a blog has always been something I thought about but never did. Over some Bombay Sapphire gin, the idea of blogging came up as a way to make millions. I'm sure it will work. So here I am on my first step of the journey to the lifestyle to which I wish were I accustomed. Perhaps my musings will draw the attention of some hapless web surfer--or maybe someone just looking for a light read. Whatever the case, I'm hoping my ramblings take me further than my back porch.<br /><br />Thanks for reading and there's bound to be more sapphire later. Both literally and figuratively speaking.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-54723627258845145842018-08-29T10:20:00.003-07:002018-08-29T10:20:43.476-07:00<h2 class="date-header" style="background-color: white; color: #8632ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; letter-spacing: inherit; margin: inherit; padding: inherit;">Wednesday, March 6, 2013</span></h2>
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<a href="http://sapphiresoprano.blogspot.com/2013/03/just-when-you-think-your-life-is-lowest.html" style="color: #888888; text-decoration-line: none;">I hate knowing</a></h3>
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Just when you think your life is the lowest, most rockbottom excuse for a feeble existence, something comes along to slap you in the face with a large dose of reality. My problems are nothing. People are dying--and not in the figurative sense or the overly dramatic. They find lumps and bumps that are not benign. And we think "wait, aren't we too young for this?" But cancer knows no age, race, gender, sexual orientation...its insidiousness just invades without rhyme or reason until suddenly there are you are face to face with a demon so impossible, it doesn't seem real. But it is real. It's very real. And it's staring you in the face. Fortunately, it's staring AT you, not from you, so you have to be grateful. Or at least a little humbled by your shortcomings of wanting to be thinner, or prettier, or smarter, or more perfect than before. I already feel guilty for saying "fortunately"....for it's never "fortunate" when someone has to face such a horrible obstacle in life. I shouldn't be relived that it's not I....I should be scared and aware and alerted to the fact that the old adage is true. "There but for the grace of G-d go I". Or whatever you believe in. It's all luck. Life is a gamble. You take risks and you go on adventures, never really knowing what's to become of you in the end. It's maddening and horrifying and exciting all at once. Sometimes I just want to hide behind my Sapphire. Just for a moment, I say. Just for a moment until all the demons dissolve and the air is carefree again. But it never lasts. Reality always returns.<br /><br />And it fucking sucks. (am I allowed to use such language on here? I'll throw a quarter in the jar just in case.) It sucks loudly and proudly and with a soprano scream so piercing it breaks glass half way across the world. It moves oceans and shakes the ground beneath us.<br /><br />And then I realize that here I am where I began. I'm the same person only different. I know things I never wanted to know. I hate knowing.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-32100611698864325242018-08-29T10:20:00.001-07:002018-08-29T10:20:14.078-07:00<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #8632ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative;">
<a href="http://sapphiresoprano.blogspot.com/2013/07/promises-broken-or-forgotten.html" style="color: #888888; text-decoration-line: none;">Promises broken or forgotten</a></h3>
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I always promise myself I'll write more. Months go by and suddenly it dawns on me that I've yet again forgotten or tossed aside the shreds of a promise I had made. So much happens in my life but it happens in my head. I'm not always certain what's real and what is simply my perception or the outside world.<br />I go through the motions, but I never truly dance. Awkwardly, I stumble and stop.<br /><br />I never thought I'd make it past 30. I'm 13 years past my expiration date and still slogging along through this thing called life. I'm not even sure where I'm going or where I've been. It all sounds cliche and trite. And it is. Which makes me sad, ashamed, and wishing I were invisible.<br /><br />I still have the same aspirations as I did at 16 years old. I want to be smarter, prettier, thinner, more successful. Perfect. Such a loaded word, perfect is. I'm not even sure what it means anymore. Perfect sounds so neat and clean, all wrapped up in a pretty box tied with a bow. So constricting and almost a trap. But the temptress perfection draws me in with her convincing lies. The promises that just like mine, are in the end, shattered like pieces of glass at my feet. A reflection of my disappointment--of the disappointment that is me.<br /><br />Sorry this entry is such a downer. It's not a pity party or anything--just raw emotion. I don't tend to allow myself to feel real emotion anymore. I use other things to numb what really hurts, to blur the pain inside, and mask the tears running down my face. It's an easy fix and although it's only temporary, it works like magic. Sadly, the magic is fleeting and then I'm back in the same place where I began. The emotions bubble up inside me. And the cycle begins anew.<br /><br />Mia, you're a bitch. Ally, you suck the life out of me. And, Katia, you are evil.<br /><br />Thank you dear readers....if there are any, for reading this missive.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-62236763515480428012018-08-29T10:19:00.003-07:002018-08-29T10:19:48.941-07:00<h2 class="date-header" style="background-color: white; color: #8632ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; letter-spacing: inherit; margin: inherit; padding: inherit;">Friday, July 12, 2013</span></h2>
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<a href="http://sapphiresoprano.blogspot.com/2013/07/entitled-brats.html" style="color: #888888; text-decoration-line: none;">Entitled brats</a></h3>
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Dear Parents,<br />Please raise your children to be compassionate, kind, caring people who are aware that the world does not revolve around them. Oh, wait...that would mean YOU would have to adopt those qualities too. Sigh. Every day I see children grab, demand, insist, talk back...only a minute few of the actions that would have landed me in my room for a month. And my room had no TV, no computer, no video games, no phone. My room was filled with books, toys, and other things to be sure, but being sent to my room was no vacation. And my room was small. My twin sized bed took up most of the floor space.<br />That is all.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-13471453544450098332018-08-29T10:19:00.001-07:002018-08-29T10:19:21.481-07:00<h2 class="date-header" style="background-color: white; color: #8632ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; letter-spacing: inherit; margin: inherit; padding: inherit;">Thursday, September 12, 2013</span></h2>
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<a href="http://sapphiresoprano.blogspot.com/2013/09/drunk-with-power.html" style="color: #888888; text-decoration-line: none;">Drunk With Power</a></h3>
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<br />Some people get drunk with power. It's so unattractive. So long, friend.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-78260392154934174902018-08-29T10:18:00.003-07:002018-08-29T10:18:57.539-07:00<h2 class="date-header" style="background-color: white; color: #8632ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; letter-spacing: inherit; margin: inherit; padding: inherit;">Saturday, September 21, 2013</span></h2>
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<a href="http://sapphiresoprano.blogspot.com/2013/09/faking-allergies.html" style="color: #888888; text-decoration-line: none;">Faking allergies</a></h3>
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Seriously? Why do people say they're allergic to things and then promptly turn around and put themselves in contact with said allergy-causing thing? If you're allergic to milk, don't eat ice cream. If you're allergic to cats, don't freaking get one! And "forgetting" you're allergic is the most insane excuse ever. Why is it that I remember what you're allergic to, but you, who once made a HUGE hairy deal of it, can't seem to remember? Methinks your allergies are for convenience. Like when someone you dislike offers you an offending food...then you're indignant and "allergic"and huffing and puffing about why they can't remember when you've TOLD them a thousand times. I'm thinking of the thousand times I've seen you eat said food(s) and nothing happened. If you don't want something, just say it. Don't conjure up an allergy. What a joke.<br /><br />And your sudden aversion to gluten, wheat, and anything that's not paleo-pilates raw food I'm holier than thou because I don't eat GMOs, is a crock of turnip shit. Bite me.<br /><br />I'm gonna die with chemicals sailing through my bloodstream and a bottle of Bombay in my hands.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-46228831273610693552018-08-29T10:18:00.001-07:002018-08-29T10:18:10.430-07:00<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #8632ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative;">
<a href="http://sapphiresoprano.blogspot.com/2014/01/its-way-too-late-and-im-still-awake.html" style="color: #888888; text-decoration-line: none;">Insomnia?</a></h3>
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It's way too late and I'm still awake pondering my existence or something like that. Insomnia is a strange and mysterious creature.<br /><br />I'm at some point where I start thinking about my life and where it went, where it's going, and where it is. I've done so much, yet I've accomplished nothing when I think of the long (and as of now incomplete) bucket list of mine. Sigh. I get so caught up in the mundane that I think I forget to live. Wait, does that make me dead? Hmm.<br /><br />On a random note, I've decided to dye my hair blue along with the purple. I'm sure my mother will love it. Not.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-81756617028672189512018-08-29T10:17:00.003-07:002018-08-29T10:17:37.945-07:00<h2 class="date-header" style="background-color: white; color: #8632ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; letter-spacing: inherit; margin: inherit; padding: inherit;">Monday, January 20, 2014</span></h2>
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<a href="http://sapphiresoprano.blogspot.com/2014/01/late-night-musings.html" style="color: #888888; text-decoration-line: none;">Late night musings</a></h3>
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I always admire people who blog frequently or at least on a regular basis. I also admire people who blog about something specific--a trip to somewhere fantastic, adventures in the life of mom, or whatever. My blog seems to be a random smattering of sarcasm and self-indulgent prattle. Ah well...I shouldn't go on another "everyone's better than I am at everything" jag, which this could quickly turn into if I'm not careful. But I'll be careful.<br /><br />I really do enjoy writing and words have so much interest to me. Almost as much as the color that adorns most of my life. I love combinations of words and how they mean more when you add one to the other in just the most eloquent way. Or even not in an eloquent way, but just some way that sparks an interest you never knew was there.<br /><br />I often wonder do people read this blog? Do they stumble upon it and read a few words and then move on? Or do they seek it out to find out the next Sapphire Soprano musing? Either way, I'm happy writing it. I throw my thoughts into the universe and wonder if they'll come back.<br /><br />I find myself inspired lately and wonder if that's how the paths of life go. Every turn and twist in the proverbial road can change everything. I like that.<br /><br />As a great poet said, "I took the road less traveled and that has made all the difference". (or something like that)<br /><br />SS</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-40977020237769103252018-08-29T10:17:00.001-07:002018-08-29T10:17:15.781-07:00<h2 class="date-header" style="background-color: white; color: #8632ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; letter-spacing: inherit; margin: inherit; padding: inherit;">Saturday, February 1, 2014</span></h2>
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<a href="http://sapphiresoprano.blogspot.com/2014/02/february.html" style="color: #888888; text-decoration-line: none;">February</a></h3>
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The shortest and most intense month of the year. Well, the shortest anyway. I'm pondering the way time flies by and how I still feel like it's 1980 and I'm a little kid. Where does the time go? How have I managed to get to ...ahem...middle age?!!!! Ack.<br /><br />Ah well... I had a small realization tonight that my life is pretty good. I have jobs I love and hobbies I love even more. I'm surrounded by an eclectic group of people I call friends and they are the most generous, kind, loving, amazing people I could ever be lucky enough to know. I pretty much hit the lottery of friends.<br /><br />I guess that's it for tonight. I wish I had more to say, but I feel lost for words.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-88536016051129760362018-08-29T10:16:00.003-07:002018-08-29T10:16:55.159-07:00<h2 class="date-header" style="background-color: white; color: #8632ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; letter-spacing: inherit; margin: inherit; padding: inherit;">Saturday, March 1, 2014</span></h2>
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<a href="http://sapphiresoprano.blogspot.com/2014/03/marching-on.html" style="color: #888888; text-decoration-line: none;">Marching on...</a></h3>
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My last post was about how short February is. Well, it flew by and yet it seems a lifetime has passed since last I wrote. I'm feeling my age and noticing the rapid passing of time as I get closer to "a certain age". Ahem. It's almost heart-stopping to think that my life is more than half over. I have less left than I've already lived! Don't mean to be morbid, but it's something with which I struggle when I analyze it too much. Which is all the time. I should stop thinking so much.<br /><br />Then I find my thoughts rambling over to the "what have I done with my life"? feeling. And I don't know the answer. As such a type A person who always had a "plan" and was driven to stay on the road to success (or at least follow my dreams), I find it oddly ironic that I look back and think I've done next to nothing and more-so that I look forward and have absolutely no idea where I'm going. I guess it all goes back to how I never planned to live this long. I thought my crazy escapades would have taken me off this earth long ago. And quite frankly, they should have. Sigh. I don't know if it's a cruel joke that I'm the one who is still alive while so many dear friends have had their lives cut short. They WANTED to live. I didn't. So...what made it so that I'm still here? I'm the only person I know who isn't afraid of dying. I'm afraid of OTHER people dying, for sure.<br /><br />People laugh when I say I feel old. I know, by comparison, I'm not *that* old, but * I * feel old...I mean thirty-fourteen? Yikes. I can't even think about it. It's 14 years past what I considered my expiration date. But if I say that out loud, people think I belong in the looney bin. And maybe I do. Sometimes I think it would be easier to be locked up with no expectations of being responsible or even cognizant. I don't know, but it's a thought. Probably not one I should admit.<br /><br />On another note, I am sick and tired of being fat. I am doing everything I can to return to my lean ways, but somehow, my body is betraying me. I exercise more than I did before, eat less and still I continue to be large. Huge. Enormous. It's so frustrating! Why can other people follow diets and exercise so easily and the pounds fall off? It's probably my own fault for wrecking my metabolism. Karma bites you in the (fat) ass every time.<br /><br />Ok...enough kvetching for one evening. I don't know if this is helpful to anyone. Maybe I should make use of my <delete> button.<br /></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-71812432334650432682018-08-29T10:16:00.001-07:002018-08-29T10:16:18.328-07:00<h2 class="date-header" style="background-color: white; color: #8632ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; letter-spacing: inherit; margin: inherit; padding: inherit;">Wednesday, March 5, 2014</span></h2>
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<a href="http://sapphiresoprano.blogspot.com/2014/03/the-dark-side-of-me.html" style="color: #888888; text-decoration-line: none;">The Dark Side of Me</a></h3>
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Lately I feel the strong urge to engage in destructive behavior. All of the behaviors I have worked so hard to keep at bay. I'm torn between WANTING them back in my life because they're easy, familiar, and comforting in a weird way, and pushing them away with all my might because I remember the rock bottom place they took me to not that long ago. But their pull is so strong....Mia still looms over me all the time and in fact, I let her win tonight. I was angry because I gave in, and still angrier because I didn't do it "well enough". WHAT? And Ana...she mocks me every day. Every hour. I feel so inadequate because I can't even live her life for one hour...I always give in. Mia says she's save me. But she doesn't. Katia is tempting too...if it weren't for the indelible scars she leaves, I'd go for that secret white box of sharp objects. I sit bewildered and confused as to why I'd even entertain such horrible thoughts. I thought I was smarter than this...that's what people always said. But those people didn't understand. They made me feel ashamed and stupid and worthless, which sent me further down the spiral of destruction. I thought I was better, but now I know it was all smoke and mirrors. Drugs to numb me, phony lies, and empty promises. Nobody cared. They never understood. But I believed them for so long! I hate them all now. I resent their conniving ways and their lies shrouded in half truths.<br />I wish I were dead sometimes. I think of all of the people I know who lost their lives and I feel angry that it was never ME. I didn't even care about life. They wanted to live. And yet, the cruel joke is, I am still alive. Suffering with no way out. I can't escape. It's already been done. I can't do that to my family again. Where is the exit? How do I get out of here? I hate myself and I feel like a fraud. An impostor.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-57474305483372434122018-08-29T10:15:00.003-07:002018-08-29T10:15:46.009-07:00<h2 class="date-header" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="color: #8632ff; letter-spacing: inherit; margin: inherit; padding: inherit;">Thursday, March 13, 2014</span></h2>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/null" name="6713023873421562246" style="background-color: white; color: #8632ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #8632ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"></span><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #8632ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative;">
<a href="http://sapphiresoprano.blogspot.com/2014/03/resisting-temptation.html" style="color: #888888; text-decoration-line: none;">Resisting temptation</a></h3>
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I am currently resisting temptation. It's harder than advertised and takes more energy than anything I can think of. (yes, I know I ended that sentence with a preposition, but nobody reads this anyway, right?) Anyway, as I was saying, resisting temptation is much like struggling against the most persistent warrior who wants to do everything in his/her power to defeat you. Funny thing is, I feel like that trying to resist temptation. Like a warrior doing everything in her power to defeat an enemy. It's brutal. I know I could alleviate this awful full feeling with a few heaves and a ho. Don't ask.<br />I know I could relieve the boil of anxiety inside with a few slashes on the arm. Again, don't ask. I'm a ball of nerves for no apparent reason.<br /><br />I look at my life from different angles and I see different things. From one angle I see someone doing something she loves, surrounded by friends, and the benefactor of generosity from all. From another angle, I see an epic failure. How can those two polar opposites be true? How can I all at once, be a successful career person with talents beyond description and an epic failure with no reason to live?<br />Such a a complex world it is.<br /><br />I want to run away to Europe and never come home. I've been saying that for 20 years. All talk and no action. I conjure up a thousand excuses about why I can't do it. 20 years' worth of excuses rolled up into one giant ball of fear. I'm afraid and I won't admit it. Fear stops me from "running away" because I don't know what I would be running to. (another sentence ending with a preposition). But, still I say "one day I'll run away to Europe and never come home". Right. And one day I'll lose those 50 pounds again.<br /><br />Moral of the story....carpe diem. Just carpe diem, people. And never look back.<div style="clear: both;">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-46977983832011122012018-08-29T10:15:00.001-07:002018-08-29T10:15:19.776-07:00<h2 class="date-header" style="background-color: white; color: #8632ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; letter-spacing: inherit; margin: inherit; padding: inherit;">Sunday, March 16, 2014</span></h2>
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<a href="http://sapphiresoprano.blogspot.com/2014/03/lifes-twists-and-turns.html" style="color: #888888; text-decoration-line: none;">Life's twists and turns</a></h3>
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It's funny to see where people have ended up in life and where you are and how you never thought you'd be there. Where I sit today is so far from where I ever dreamed I'd be. Firmly ensconced in my circle of friends in each chapter of my life, I never thought things would change. But they always did. I closed the chapter on high school and went on to college. My college years were certainly a significant chapter, but little did I know, there was more to come. At the crossroads of "what-the-hell-do-I-do-now?" and "OMG-I-just-want-to-get-on-with-my-career", I decided on grad school. I still, to this day, do not know if this was the right choice or not. I ponder the ifs, ands, buts, and how my life might be different if I'd chosen a different path. But one can only ponder for so long before it drives you crazy. It was grad school that ultimately led me to where I am today. After a few years of "finding myself" doing odd jobs and such, failing at teaching because nobody would hire me to do what I really wanted to do, and because nobody would hire me to do what I was good at, I found myself driving across the country looking to reinvent myself and my life. Well, it was a little more complex than that and may or may not have involved a (now ex) boyfriend. But that's beside the point. I'm here now and it's been a wild ride so far.<br /><br />Facebook presents an interesting view into people's lives. I know it's just the surface of what people want to share--or over-share as the case may be, but I believe facebook gives us all a skewed view about people's successes. Everyone looks happy and fulfilled. (of course they do. DUH! Nobody's gonna post sullen pictures of themselves sitting on the couch wishing they had a life). But I know it's not always the case. And by the way, I am a facebook addict, so I am in no way dissing it. I live there. I find myself and others at the facebook party every morning before work and every night after trashy TV.<br /><br />So I don't know where this blog is going. It's about as random as this entire blog ever was. I don't even know why I started it. OH--to make millions. Right. Ok, well, it's a bunch of rambling entries that do not relate to each other. I should probably choose a theme....or something. Ah well, I've always taken the road less traveled. Or something.<br /><br />Una oportunidad para contar estrellas. (an opportunity to count the stars). One of the best one line solos I've ever sung. It still gives me goosebumps.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-40190362102900512252018-08-29T10:14:00.003-07:002018-08-29T10:14:48.254-07:00<h2 class="date-header" style="background-color: white; color: #8632ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; letter-spacing: inherit; margin: inherit; padding: inherit;">Thursday, March 20, 2014</span></h2>
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<a href="http://sapphiresoprano.blogspot.com/2014/03/oblivion.html" style="color: #888888; text-decoration-line: none;">Oblivion</a></h3>
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I swear some people live in a land called Oblivion. They just don't get it. They think it's not their problem, or it will solve itself, or since they have no clue, it can't possibly be that important. Seriously? You can't just shrug your shoulders and call it a day because then your lack of planning DOES make it an emergency on my part. And that's not how the saying goes.<br /><br />Another day, another dollar...oh wait, this is VOLUNTEER! I always forget that we shouldn't expect anything since it's "only volunteer". Well that's BS. In my book, if you agree to do something, DO IT or at least say you can't and apologize. And don't wait until the eleventh hour to do so.<br /><br />Over and out. Mostly out</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5515101049117684452.post-89229802154079170712018-08-29T10:14:00.001-07:002018-08-29T10:14:17.451-07:00<h2 class="date-header" style="background-color: white; color: #8632ff; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; letter-spacing: inherit; margin: inherit; padding: inherit;">Saturday, March 29, 2014</span></h2>
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<a href="http://sapphiresoprano.blogspot.com/2014/03/sometimes-i-wonder.html" style="color: #888888; text-decoration-line: none;">Sometimes I wonder...</a></h3>
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Where I've been...who I am...do I fit in? Ok, it's a cheesy line from an 80's song I loved to belt out with my hairbrush microphone and tape recorder...yes tape recorder. OUT HERE....ON MY OWN!!!<br />But seriously, I do wonder about things. I think of myself as purple, creative, organized, and just enough out there to be "interesting", but not totally nuts. At least I hope so.<br /><br />Today was a day I went into with great trepidation. I attended a workshop where I had to reach deep inside and lose my self for a while. I had to pretend I wasn't self-conscious, I didn't feel ungraceful, and I was willing to pour my soul out to a virtual stranger. Of course, I was not alone in this endeavor, but something like this can easily make me feel like I am larger than life (in more ways than one...and that's for another blog entry). I felt conspicuous and weird. I felt uncomfortable in my skin. I felt everything the leader was telling us NOT to feel. Ugh... But I fought it and finally threw myself into the experience. To my surprise, there were moments of clarity and moments of really believing in what I was expressing. It was scary and beautiful all at the same time.<br /><br />In the space of 3 hours, I was transformed into a real believer. I CAN make something tangible out of what I thought was only something deep inside me.<br /><br />With that, I leave you to ponder your own potential.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16222983146730994016noreply@blogger.com0