I’m a sucker for starry cold nights, but I’ll also talk to you like you know the names of the constellations I’m talking about.
I like coffee, but to me an iced espresso is far superior to a cup of hot black coffee.
I’ve enjoyed all genres of movies, but my (not so secret now) favorites will always be obscure artsy films.
I don’t hate any particular style of music. Music has to hit me emotionally for me to thoroughly enjoy it. No goosebumps, no repeat. I listen to classical when I need to get zoned in. I like hip hop, rap and classic rock when I’m driving as I want to feel it down in my bones; my driving anxieties need me to feel grounded in the vehicle so the bass vibrating through me gives me that peace. If I want to come unhinged and wild, I’ll play Florence or another melodic soulful singer and dance around my house, hair wild and arms wide; singing along from the depths of my being.
I romanticize a lot of life. I want to feel and experience love without all the trauma of my past relationships like a rag being held over my face.
I want the silent stillness of dark, cold nights under starry skies and in warm arms. But I also want the indulgence of crisp sheets against my skin, endless coffee and a porch view that reveals miles upon miles of uninterrupted solitude.
I want to worship our God without feeling guilty that you’re not by my side or worse, embarrassed because I felt Him move in me and I made a joyful noise during worship music.
I want to get my hands dirty creating art, breathing life into my works, and tending to my plant babies as well as my real live in the flesh (not quite babies anymore) babies.
I don’t want to chew you up and spit you out. That’s not fair and it’s demeaning to you as a human, whoever you may be. I simply want to live as a house cat; willingly loved on my terms but allowed to soak in the radiant warmth of the sun alone some days.