I used to live to write. It was the first thing i thought of when i woke up and ideas kept me from sleeping at night. I started this blog thing because i need another outlet for all the ideas and stories and stuff that was trapped inside my head.

Now, i don't write really at all. I haven't sat down and written a story in months. I haven't worked on my book since some time last year. I've been absorbed with this massive project to-do list and every waking moment has been utterly devoted to it. Working replaced writing and i miss it..I miss reading over old passages and wondering what the hell i was thinking when i wrote that; I miss struggling while trying to find just the right word; I miss the feel of a pen in my hand or keys on my finger tips and an idea in my head.

I will try to get back to my first love.

I was raise in the church. I spent more time there growing up than i did anywhere else. I remember being touched, having fun, feeling god. Like most things, it all changed when i got older and found out that those people that i thought were so perfect, so kind, so righteous, were...human. They were capable of horrible things; they lied and cheated on their spouses; they stole  and "liberated" money from the church funds. They hurt me to my core and as much as i tried to keep the teachings and forget the flaws of humanity i couldn't completely forgive and i still doubt that i will ever forget.

 So i stopped going. I quit. I figured if churches are full of flawed people, sinners than then they won't miss one. That's what my mom said "Honey, church is for sinners. If they were perfect angels they won't need to be there."  I understood her point but it didn't change anything.

So the other day i went to a program with my mom; she begged me and i hate seeing my mom beg. I walked in a it felt familiar. Nothing had changed but me. As i sat there watching the show i felt, don't hate me, like it was all bullshit. Time had healed nothing.

It's didn't hurt though- i laughed at them. I laughed because they were so far into it they couldn't see how ridiculous it all looks from an outside view.  Hooting and hollaring and trying to out do each other with "Praise the lords" and "Hallelujahs". saying father/god a bizallion and one times to prove their point to an already captivated audience.

Worst than me laughing...i felt nothing. I didn't feel God there. i don't feel that overwhelming sense of peace that i remember from my childhood and that i feel sporadically everyday. I'm a very spiritual person and i can see God in flowers and trees and in my dog's face but in a church...full of people...on a Sunday...i felt nothing.

I don't know what that means. I don't know if it's just me. I'm a tainted sinner, i'm damaged goods but somehow i like to think that God still loves me and that i don't have to go to church to prove that i love him back.  

Everyone has their thing. A characteristic, body part, phrase, smell, or whatever that gets their blood boiling. For me it's a clean smell- not some strong manufactured scent but the subtle smell of soap on skin. Also i love hair, not hairy bodies, but a head of soft curly clean hair.
So, what turns you on? Be descriptive:)