Repost: Happy Inside My Head

A husband. Two kids. A house in the semi-country, old, but in good repair, split-level maybe, or two story. Four bedrooms, two baths with a garden tub in the master bath. A kitchen with a center island, lots of counter space and old beautiful tile floors. A library with a large fireplace and wall to wall, floor to ceiling shelves.
A huge wrap around, partially screened in porch. A five car garage, custom built, climate controlled. A pool in the back, with a Jacuzzi next to it. An orchard, a garden with vegetables, herbs and the most glorious blooms. Stables at the back with stunning Arabian horses, or maybe just your average sweet old quarter horses. At least two dogs running in the yard, a couple of cats sunning in the window sills. And a goat. How pastoral.
Do I want these things? Hell yes. BUT...in that five car garage, I want these: 1956 Jaguar XK140 Roadster, 1970 Plymouth Barracuda (Yeah, that thing's got a Hemi), 1972 Camaro SS, 1934 Indian Chief (74ci Model 334), 2007 Heritage Softail Classic...and a Chevy Tahoe....you know...soccer mom and all.
My husband can have his own garage.
And next to the stables I want a huge barn. Also climate controlled. And sound proofed. A girl's gotta have a place to blow off some steam, play with her toys, make some noise and record her tracks.
One of the dogs better be a Rottweiler.
The kids, they can be adopted or from a prior union, I don't care. I want them happy, healthy and smart. But they better play video games and love my cooking.
And yes, I will join the garden society, enjoy drinking tea and showing them my secret to cultivating my blue moon roses. I just hope they're okay with black nail polish and platform combat boots if I'm in that kind of mood that day.
Hmm...and the husband. Ooh. Well. He'll have to fit with me, with that life, and (pray for him) my moods. He'll have to understand that I like to waltz and two-step to old country western, dance to swing and jazz standards, thrash out to Fear Factory, Six Feet Under and Slayer, listen to Norah Jones, Billie Holiday, Sinatra, Martin or Torme and Fiona Apple when I'm blue or writing, with a little Garbage, Alanis, Dido, and Drain STH thrown in on that creative flow, crank up Megadeth when I'm pissed, I strip to Union Underground, Godsmack, and Rob Zombie, dance around to Aqua , Save Ferris and Roxette when I clean the house, I like Irish punk or classic rock when I'm drinking and sometimes I fall asleep to violins, flutes and the wails of ghosts on Scottish moors or Irish coasts. And that I like to sing all of it, plus a few old Italian, English or Celtic traditionals for good measure. That's a lot for him to cope with right there, so he'll have to be strong.
He'd have to ride a horse as well as he can ride my Heritage Softail, be content watching a movie by the fire one night, going out dancing the next, sitting around rolling dice and pretending to be heroes or supernatural freaks another night, just chilling at a bar, pub, tavern ect.
He's a jeans and t-shirt kinda guy, but he can wear Versacci as well as I can wear Vera Wang if the occasion calls for it. I want a heavy metal cowboy with the voice of a horny angel, the eyes of an amused poet, the heart of a man who loves me with all of it, the smile of an innocent devil and fingers that can play a guitar as well as they can put together computers when I'm tired of doing it...One who can also be an intellectual in a comfy sweater I can cuddle against when I'm cold. This guy, he's logical but still admits there could be such a thing as magic.
And he has to get along with my parents and my psuedo-family. Big thing there. Another big point is that he'd have to be supportive and understanding of my goals, hopes, career choices and beliefs. He may not agree, but he will always respect. That doesn't mean he won't argue with me. If he can't argue with me, he's out. I already have a doormat in front of my pretty house. It probably says "Get lost."
In this dream life, I'd still work where I am, that's part of my dream. I'd be a writer, a holistic healer, a damn fine musician and vocalist with as many albums out as I wanted, just for the hell of it, not for the money. I'd have all of the education I want or need.
I want what other 'normal' people want, I guess. But I want it my way. I'm used to being whatever person suits where I'm at, and I do love that about me, but see...this dream life....it suits whatever person I am at the time. And I love that.
Wanting a lot? Hell yes. I figured I'm worth it, if I can earn it. And if I can't earn it...well...thank God I've got one hell of an imagination.

I don't blog, I babble.

No, really. I occasionally have amusing moments of genius, but for the most part I just unleash a stream of words that sound pretty when they are put together in my head.
So, what you'll see here are past bloggy type things that I have written, poetry, lyrics, observations and opinions.
I guess that's what it's supposed to be, right?
I will often be mean, rude, crude, and probably offensive. I will be whiney, emo, bitter and sarcastic.The wonderful thing about this type of public outpouring of mind words is that I don't have to care if you like it or not, and I can be extremely flattered if you do. Consider this your NSFW warning. =-)