Loud-mouthed liberal feminist. Anarchist knitter. Tequila-drinking artsy-smartsy fat chick. Bluesy folk-rock singer-songwriter. Rebel with too many causes. Quirky eclectic pagan poet. Paradoxical intuitive smartass. Sarcastic brainiac insomniac. You know, for starters.



Sometimes I wonder if my enthusiasm for potentials and my idealistic nature set me up for disappointment.
I thought about writing a whole big long rant about that....berating myself for seeing the bright side and coming off so naive all the goddamn time. But you know what? It's part of my nature. I choose to walk the line between cynicism and idealism. I know I'm supposed to be all jaded and (take my word for it) I am...but I'm also hopeful. I hope things will turn out well, and I try to act rightly when given the chance, so that I contribute everything I can to make reality reflect my hopes. I like the fact that I'm ballsy enough to take risks when they matter, on the big stuff. I like the fact that my regrets are few and my stories plentiful. I try to avoid leaving myself to look back and wonder what might've happened, you know? Besides which, even my new musical hero promotes being reckless:

So, enough crying over spilled milk. I'm wearing a cute black miniskirt, guitar-shaped earrings, and a shirt with French cuffs. I'm having a good hair day. I am coordinating the schedules of six fabulous musicians to rehearse and record eight of my songs, plus getting a few others ready to demo up myself during the same set (why not?). I'm looking over my recently re-orged website and digging on my new design. I've got blisters on my finger from rocking out on the guitar last night with the harmonica player. I'm listening to a mix of my own music and Johnny-boy's, and it's good. It's honest, it's true, it's beautiful.

I'm a really goddamn lucky girl. Not one person in a hundred thousand has what I have, and knows it. And you know what? Fuck anyone who can't be as happy about that as I am.

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