Okay, this is part two.... if you haven't read part one yet, please do. *grins*

So... the compilation tape moves on and Meat Loaf sarenades me with Motorcycles and piano - then the guitar and bass & drums - I would do anything for love -

Yes, I saw Rocky Horror Picture Show - I'm sure mr. Loaf Would (underscore, bold, exclamation) do anything for love.

So, my thoughts once again churning, I turn to my future. I wrote a few stories which tell my future. A few different versions thereof. And I sing along, harmonizing with Meat.

And my thoughts jump so quickly from track to track to track, it's like having your stereo set to permanant scan... only, on hyper speed.

See, this entry doesn't do my thoughts justice because though it's taken me nearly 1 1/2 hours to write all this stuff out, the actual time to think it, and act it, took about 25 minutes.

And that 25 minutes includes time to pause, glance at the ocean, light smokes, rewind/play the tape so I could write down the Sarah M (I murdered her name once, already, I'm not gonna do it again) lyrics.

Then, my heart jumps to my throat cause I hear a car fly past and simultaniously I hear what sounds like a yelp -- And Joey's nowhere to be seen.

But, he's okay. Thirsty, but okay... and I pour him fresh water, turn on the car, snap him to his lead, feel the burn of adrenaline disipating, finish writing this and leave.....

If I go out tonight, I'll continue this then....

Alright, so, obviously I'm continuing this. I wanted to let you know that instead of just driving away... I stopped the car - shut down - popped the hood - popped the latch - wrestled that fraggin thing up - propped it - released the power stearing/trany fluid cap - propped the funnel - poured in trany fluid (which is a little thinner than P.S. fluid) - withdrew the funnel - replaced the cap - unpropped the hood - let it drop home (from about four inches) - and scampered on back into the car - started her up - discovered, Voila, that I indeed could (underscore, bold) turn the frickin wheel - then, and only then, did I drive home

So, I got home, via Nick's parking lot (they had no band) - called Lamplighter ==== the owners of which I'm negotiating with to build a website ==== and found out they've got karaoke tonight. Hoo Yah.

This means I get to sing tonight!

HOO-FUCKIN-YAH (underscore, underscore, bold, italic, exclamation, exclamation, excla-fuckin-mation baybay).

Um...

I enjoy singing (understatement)

See here, folks - I'm a singer. Not just "a singer" but, I am music. (a whole bunch of underscores and exclamations)

There are some people who sing

There are some people who enjoy singing

There are some people who live to sing

And then, there are a few people who sing to live.

I am not being facetious here (or however you spell that damned word) and I'm not exagerating.

You can substitute anything for "singing" for instance, Dancing, drawing, painting, selling, sports, counseling, accounting, etc.

Again, I'm not bullshitting you here - I'm dead serious.

To exemplify...

Using sports first:

Tiger Woods, I have heard him interviewd a few times and he has intimated that golf has been the driving force in his life (no pun intended) I may be wrong here, folks, my apologies to Mr. Woods if I am mistating his comments.

However, what I have undestood from the few interviews I've seen and the few times I've seen him play, golf is as vital to his life as oxygen is. You can see the passion in his eyes and in his bodylanguage.

As per Dance:

Most of you (if you've ever seen White Knights) have, at the very least, heard of Mikael Barishnikov. I have only heard him interviewd twice, but I've seen him dance many times.

It is obvious to me - very much so - that he dances to live. THat every motion is a celebration of life. it is obvious to me that if he did not dance, he would die. His every motion pushes forth to become another word of praise. When watching Barishnikov, I feel myself drawn into his motions. All of them.

=======Perhaps my whole theory is dependant upon my personal conceptions and the way things affect me.... regardless, I'm going to continue=======

Mikael Barishnikov doesn't just dance - he's not just a dancer - he IS dance. When you watch him ---- correction, when I watch ---- I see dance. I don't just see a man, I see that dancing was created FOR him.

Same for Michael Flatly (I'm not sure if I've got the last name exactly right) He was the star of Riverdance, and he starred in, wrote and produced Lord of the Dance.

When he moves.....

*sighs softly in frustration*

It's really pathetic, in my mind, for me to be at such a loss for words. Me, the queen of vociferous verbocity!!! At a verbal impasse.

Let me describe my "feelings" when I sing... maybe that will help....

Now, I'm not talking about just singing in the car or playing around. I'm not even talking about Karaoke, although this does happen once in a while when i'm singing karaoke... it's rare in that instance.

When I'm on stage, I change.

I hang around before the performance - I have a casual attitude - no sweat - then, about five minutes before I go on, I get nervous. My breathing gets really shallow, my mouth get's dry, my pulse races, I get the shakes. After about two and a half my pulse slows once again. I can draw a full breath. The shaking abates except for my hands.

Then, I make my way to the stage, take the mic, or not, depending on the venue... cue the music and count to myself and then, just before I'm supposed to sing. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs, but beginning in my toes. I breathe in for about a three count... sometimes four...

And then, I disappear. I'm not there. jennifer ceases to exist *frowns searching for the words* It's not quite a black out... well, not every time... *frowns again*

Okay, I don't "know" what happens when I go into that zone, but I can try to describe it with a kinf of out-of-body-experience kind of thing...

*grumbles at the lack of words*

THe first word out of my mouth is carried by......

*smiles softly*

I realize why I'm having trouble describing this - I've been trying to use physical terms. It's not a physical thing.

When i breathe in, I breathe in the Holy Spirit. After that, I'm not in control of my body until the music stops. During that time, the Spirit uses my body and vocal cords. It is the wind, the air, the power.

And even tho i open my eyes once in a while, I'm not really there... It's like being possessed.

I see people truly affected by the sound and power which is not mine. This voice pours from my body on angel's wings. it fills the room and flood the soul. It's palpable. Not really visible, but you can feel it.

Every single note flies from my open mouth at the behest of the Spirit. Every word, every thought, every trill... they're all, completely and irrevokably carried on the power of the Spirit.

It floods whatever room I'm in, reaching out with fingers so to speak, to grab the listeners. ANd it does. I have seen people staring at me in awe... looking at me as if they were trying to associate the sound with my body.

But it's not me, i tell you... it's not me.

And what's more...

I can feel the power of this song, music, lyrics, whatever.

I stand there, being the physical thing that people can see while this humongously powerful entity flows from my open mouth. I feel like a person on an innertube in the middle of the ocean. There is so much power and strength flowing through every pore.....

*sighs*

When I get to that place, where the Spirit is singing through me, I see people so sweapt up by the sound that they cry. I mean it..... *sighs*

That's what Barishnikov, Flatly, Bocelli.... *sighs again*

That's what people do to me. When I watch Barishnikov, I can see every step, every jump, every motion as if it were God Himself dancing.

Same with Michael Flatly......

Same with Andrea Bocelli.... when he sings, I can SEE his soul. I can absolutely see, feel, taste, breathe, wallow in his soul... through the music.

*smiles softly, tenderly*

Bocelli IS music. he's not "just" a musician.

*sighs again, quietly*

Well, I keep wanting to say more..... trying to clarify, I guess.

I know that this whole bit has been quite disjointed and such, but I have explained it as best I can.

There are some people who ARE their artform, no matter what that form of expression might be.

I am music. And the longer I deny it, the more depressed, cold, alone and frightened I will be. AS long as I deny who and what I really am... I can not attain my goals.

Of course, that's just my opinion.

And, since it's now 5am and I'm totally wiped, I will sleep now.

Thanks for listening through this strangely confusing post. If I find a more clear way to describe what I want to say, then I will do so.

Peace...

J...