Betsy

A determined participant in a crazy world. I mean what the hell is wrong with people? They are blank, vacant, ready apparently for the time when someone else will paint them in, add the colors, strokes, ideas that will animate their faces and souls. I wear my heart on my sleeve, my eyes are the window, and the window is dirty. But I will never hide the thoughts in my head, erupt as they may in the atomic way. Yuk, bad attempt at poetry. I've just seen too many people who care what people think and don't know why. I have seen the road from the traveler's perspective, dirty gas stations, street corners teeming with a cacaphony of people, birds, and trash. I remember the empty open spaces and the way a distant car looks wending it's way along a two lane highway. I believe there is more out there, and wonder if it's worth all the hype. I want to enjoy, be content, be happy with my lot. I also crave excitement, wonder, awe, discord, chaos, and disenchantment. Is there anything better than a brown study, a blue funk, and a fine how do you do? Sometimes you just want to sink in the mud and not find the rose garden on the other side of the puddle. There is no way to find out everything about someone, but I'd like to try. Oh and I believe little things count, and that it's worth the struggle.