I sit within my latest fantasy and realizing as I’ve decided never to read any erotic romances. My life on the other hand had been entrenched with the absence of the color of gray. At this point my colorful nature exists for only a few people in my life. . I got five chapters into reading “Fifty Shades of Gray” and realized this book was too close to a story of a very important life experience; that still haunts me. Life seems to be dragging me into expressing what I have never been able to articulate. I don’t need to read romance novels; I have discovered I am one. Wrapped and often tormented by the longings I retrieve my fantasy life. Then with the many interactions and love affairs with life’s happenings. I’ve been correlating a remembrance where I have come from and how I have gotten to who I am now. Establishing relationships with various people, built over time, shows me with increasing intensity the novel that exists inside. My story was one of fantasy and fiction, laced with my expressive personality. Honesty has been a gift and a torment for me; much like the continual ache for what I don’t have rather than what I do. My creativity has perpetuated my life and often sparked a vibrancy allowing me to glow inside. I credit my life’s depth with living in New York City and San Francisco as well as my ocean voyage to England and back. Playing and having fun with Rock and Rollers, Radio and TV personalities, as well as working to help in making TV commercials. All of my years have just unfolded as opposed to having a careful plan; my free spirit was supported by being part of a change generation where free love was attached to my abandonment. I danced with all those who were just outside the mainstream. An outsider I became and perhaps as hard as I have worked at being conventional, I am not and never have been.
