I am always talking…  and doing, but talking first…

I talk a lot about what I want to do, what i will do, what i am working on.. about ideas that spring up and opportunities that may be captured…

I am not frivolous in my choices… but i have realized that the ferver with which i put ideas and considerations out there makes some people wonder if I have clear focus and direction at all… rest assured that I do… there are simply many means to my end..

I used to think people understood when i gushed on inspiration and ideas in a heated moment that this is as natural to me as breathing.. i dont think about whether or not i should.. i just do… ideas… they are always floating around me – inside me- active when I am awake and even when I am sleeping.. ideas, concepts, inventions, businesses, and designs…  a constant parade of thought bubbles… i couldnt stop them if i had a  cork…

I suppose most people keep these thoughts on the DL unless they intend to be about them right away… or perhaps they simply only have a limited amount of ideas about what they can do or will do or might do in life…  i rarely see people who hold back making more progress than those who gush.. but i do notice that people who gush can become discouraged by those around them who dampen the concepts because they are not immediately possible, or even remotely probable…  i dont let it get to me.. most of the time.

I do what i do and am the way i am because i am in a constant state of inspiration and sometimes vision… it would be better sometimes to have rest from it, but i dont have that choice… i have a day job, so my other creative projects fumble and bounce along on the waves of my minds wake.  its very sad, but now i know why artists were always starving.. you simply cannot be a successful, well-paid person with a good but demanding career and also create for pleasure..  i create on a daily basis for profit… and that is okay too..  someday i hope to buy my castle in the south of France.. convert it into livable space.. “Nomalimo!” and fritter away my days creating stories…
One, two, three, four…

Sappy pathetic little me
That was the girl I used to be
You had me on my knees

Id trade you places any day
Id never thought you could be that way
But you looked like me on sunday

Oh you came in with the breeze
On sunday morning
You sure have changed since yesterday
Without any warning
I thought I knew you (whoa)
I thought I knew you (whoa)
I thought I knew you well… so well

Youre trying my shoes on for a change
They look so good but fit so strange
Out of fashion, so I cant complain

Oh you came in with the breeze
On sunday morning
You sure have changed since yesterday
Without any warning
I thought I knew you (whoa)
I thought I knew you (whoa)
I thought I knew you well… so well

I know who I am, but who are you?
Youre not looking like you used to
Youre on the other side of the mirror
So nothings looking quite as clear
Thank you for turning on the lights
Thank you, now youre the parasite
I didnt think you had it in you
And now youre looking like I used to!

You came in with the breeze
On sunday morning
You sure have changed since yesterday
Without any warning
And you want me badly
cause you cannot have me
I thought I knew you (whoa)
But Ive got a new view (whoa)
I thought I knew you so well… oh well

Ooh on sunday morning
Without a warning
Sunday morning
I thought I knew you
Sunday morning
Ooh you want me badly
Cannot have me
Sunday morning
Sunday morning
Sunday morning