what follows is a work in progress...a memoir told in retrospect. updates will follow on no regular basis.

7.17.2000

the hour and a half commute home from work was bittersweet...........

"how does it feel, babe
to taste sweet revenge
do you want me on my knees...."

no small wonder she loved the hair band love songs....only their screams of passion could fit her teen years. when you try so hard to be loved you need a voice and if it meant screaming along in the car while your face contorts painfully to hit the highs, devil may care. sometimes that kind of tension in a person's muscles is good....just like a good cry which usually ensued.

she could break her life down into stages...each with its own distinctive soundtrack. if smell is the closest sense to memory in the brain, then hearing is second. the rocker stage came in around junior high and prevailed through high school. why not? in small towns there are two types of radio stations...the classic rock/heavy metal combo or the kick ass country frequency. she could dig on both.