I love to swim, I like that feeling. Floating, nothing holding me but my own strength.
Swimming feels like flying. I'm free.
The feeling of freedom is amazing.
I love to dance, even though I'm not sure I'm that good a dancer but I love it... well... no complaints on that area either, thank you very much for asking.
Have you ever been home alone, and turned the music up and jumped, sang, danced as loud and as funky as you can because... well... nobody's watching you? Yeah, I do that [... a lot!].
Now, what if you danced... naked?
That "yay! freeeee!" feeling would be multiplied by a MILLION, wouldn't it?
But wait... what if someone IS watching you? would you stop dancing, ran to the closet, get dressed, shut the blinds and never do it again?
How big an exhibitionist are you? would you still do it?
What if you were on a skycrapper, no other buildings around... would you dance naked with the blinds open?
Only people with telescopes or on a helicopter would be able to see you, would you still do it?
I feel like dancing and swimming when I write. I'm rambling stupid thoughts from my the bottom of my heart.
Now that I'm doing it in English, I can let those things inside of me that I don't tell anyone but I need to get out of my soul (oooohhhh... so... so... cheesy?) loose, and guess what? no one's looking!
I can write whatever I want... and no one's looking!
In the beginning, I created this new blog to practice my writing, to gather feedback about what I want to say and the way I said it.
I thought it was going to be like my first blog, baby #1... and give me back the same kind of experience: comments, cameos, video-blogs, photo-blogs, travels, interviews, awards, a bunch of new friends all over the world and--- hey--- THAT was one fun baby!
RIP baby. Sorry baby.
Blog-baby #2 started as a sad pathetic excuse to breathe... and then love died. I'm not going to write about my past anymore, what for? it's dead. It's gone.
Now, that baby is under a serious make-over and the sad depressing stories were put aside and it's becoming more fun as time passes. Some of the readers from baby#1 found him and well, I'm a happy momma.
So... now... my dearest none existing audience, just in case you didn't know, you're reading baby #3.
She's my adopted savage girl from another country that doesn't know what to say, or how to say it but will blurt it out anyway. She doesn't know the meaning of the word "boundary" because she doesn't speak the language, she can say whatever she wants and it will make her happy.
She's happy, she's free, she's on fire.
She dances naked with the blinds open and she doesn't care.