Dreamer

You may think I'm a dreamer.



I've flown across London with Peter and Wendy.

I've lived recklessly with Daisy and Gatsby.

I've traipsed the moors with the Brontes.

I've had tea with white rabbits and mad hatters.

I've watched discrimination unfold with Scout and Jem.

I've ridden a sad train with Anna Karenina.

I've waited for love with the Bennett sisters.

I've been taught to rule by Machiavelli.

I've struggled to breathe with Esther Greenwood.

I've sailed the seas with Captain Aubrey.

I've had an awakening with Edna.

I've reflected on duty and dignity with English butlers. 

I've walked a long, yellow-brick road.

I've grown up with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. 

I've traveled to Narnia and back again.

You may think I'm a dreamer.

I am.

When I'm really into a novel, I'm seeing the world differently during that time—not just for the hour or so in the day when I get to read. I'm actually walking around in a bit of a haze, spellbound by the book and looking at everything through a different prism.

                                                                         -Colin Firth

It's In the Air

Take a deep breath.

Do you smell it?

Do you see it?

Do you feel it?

It's fall. It's coming.

I woke this morning, and I felt fall for the first time this year. Something about the light coming through my bedroom window sent waves of happiness through me. Each year, I can tell how close autumn is by the sunlight. Slightly imperceptible changes they may be, but I see them. 

I'm sure there is some kind of methodical, scientific explanation to describe the changes of the light, like Earth's rotations and revolutions, and the tilt of its axis. None of it matters. 

What matters is that fall is near, and I can feel it in the air. 

Tragic Talent

This week, one of Mama Kat's writing prompts asked for my reaction to the death of Amy Winehouse. I wasn't going to go there...until I saw an overwhelming amount of rather unsympathetic posts. Now here we are.
*sigh*

Death is sad, plain and simple. It doesn't matter who or where. Last week, I saw several posts on Facebook and other social media announcing the death of Amy Winehouse. Then I saw more posts of a more judgmental nature. (Those of you who know me will know that those never go over well with me.) 


Let's just be honest, shall we? We all know that Ms. Winehouse was a talented but troubled woman at best and a weak, indulgent child at worst.

Whether you like it or not, the woman had talent. 

Yes, I know that people die every day. There are tragedies all over the world. 

But for some people, the death of a celebrity is a big deal. I completely understand that Amy essentially dug her own grave, but that doesn't mean we should be unsympathetic. That doesn't mean no one should mourn. That doesn't make her death any less heartbreaking. 

I'll admit I've been a fan for a long time; I first heard Amy Winehouse in my first year of college. Her voice immediately struck a chord with me. The raw emotion of her music was amazing. She was the kind of musician who could make the audience feel. And quite frankly, there aren't many artists like that in our world of cookie-cutter "musicians."

She was eccentric; she was destructive. She was HUMAN. 

Instead of placing blame and criticizing, let's show a little more compassion.

Here's to Amy. Let's remember her as she used to be.