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Lyrics [Oct. 17th, 2005|12:57 am]
Please don't steal. Copyrighted.

Fancy That – Losing Control

Spoon in my coffee, crack in my TV
The carpet’s wearing thin beneath my shoes
Walls are thick around me, place is driving me crazy
My mood is such a perfect shade of blue

And then there’s you
Staring out from a picture frame
Without you
My world will never be the same

Now that you’re gone, I see all the flaws
In the way I’ve been living
Now that you’re gone I can’t move on
And this doesn’t feel like living…anymore

Stain on my chair, board missing from the stair
My bookshelf is void of any books
No faucet in my sink, I’ve had far too much to drink
I feel my confidence starting to shrink

Pre chorus


And I’m sleeping with your shadow
And it creeps across my ceiling
And I can’t escape this feeling
I’m losing control
Everything reminds me of you
And it makes me so impatient
And I can’t pretend or fake it
I’m losing control

Pre chorus


(Nonsense to end)
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HOLY MUSIC BATMAN! [Oct. 13th, 2005|03:03 pm]
Fancy That
LIVE Music
Saturday October 15, 2005
Selah House of Coffee
No cover

Spread the word!
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Need [Apr. 7th, 2005|08:32 pm]
[Current Mood |exhaustedexhausted]
[Current Music |Train - Helpless]

This isn't anything I've ever experienced, but I think I've seen it happen once or twice.

There's a distance between us as we stand facing one and other, the humid July air slithering in and out of our lungs as we breathe. It’s always been there; small at first and becoming larger and larger with each moment we grew, each moment we ignored the ever present truth that we were wrong for one and other. I cough, and he slides his sneakers on the pavement. I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear and he twirls the ring on his thumb.
"Goodnight." He says, not offering a smile. I don't offer one either.
"Goodnight." We don't force away the space with a kiss; we don't try to smother it with words. The gap it's far too wide now for words or tongues or roaming hands. Neither of us has the strength nor the want, or even so much as the need to fight for the other anymore, so we just allow one and other to turn around and go our separate ways.

He was restless and intense. He came into my world and completely consumed me, giving me the sense of stability and security I'd always craved in my life. He was an artist, always creating and envisioning. He inspired me, and I inspired him. We were the fuel to each other's fire, and we burned with a fervor and passion neither of us had ever really known.

Looking back on it now, it was too much, too fast. We kissed too quickly, we made love too soon, we did everything at hyper speed as if we'd known it wasn't going to last. I hate thinking of it that way, but it was and it is the truth. We were both desperate and grasping, for something, someone…anything really and had managed to stumble upon each other.

I won't say I didn't love him, because I did. It was a seductive heated searing love that left marks on me that will never go away. It wasn't tender and to tell you the truth, I don't even know if it was true, but it was what we both needed. We never kissed because we wanted to, it was always a need. We never touched for the simple pleasure of feeling one and other, it was always a need.
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Sunday Sunday Sunday [Feb. 20th, 2005|07:36 pm]
[Current Mood |calmcalm]
[Current Music |Jason Mraz - Sing Glory]

(Stole this from Lily)

Open up the music player on your computer or your iPod.
Set it to play your entire music collection.
Hit the "shuffle" command.
Tell us the title of the next twenty songs that show up (with their musicians), no matter how embarrassing.
That's right, no skipping that Carpenters tune that will totally destroy your hip credibility. It's time for total musical honesty.
If you get the same artist twice, you may skip the second (or third, or etc.) occurances.

01. Counting Crows - Round Here
02. John Mayer - Pateince (Guns and Roses Cover)
03. Hanson - Bridges of Stone
04. Jessica Harp - You, San Fransisco and Me
05. Oasis - Champagne Supernova
06. Jewel - Who Will Save Your Soul
07. Bush - Swallowed
08. Fefe Dobson - Who Should I Be
09. Damien Rice - Cold Water
10. Tyler Hilton - Not Getting Your Name
11. Stroke 9 - Kick Some Ass
12. Hanson - Good' Lovin' (The Rascals Cover)
13. Hanson - Dirrty (Christina Aguleria Cover)
14. Wham - Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go
15. Jason Mraz - Right Kind of Phrase
16. Frankie J. - Don't Wanna Try
17. matchbox twenty - Time After Time (Cyndi Lauper Cover)
18. Dixie Chicks - Godspeed (Sweet Dreams)
19. Edwin McCain - In Your Eyes (Acoustic/Peter Gabriel Cover)
20. Sister Hazel - Concede

I just have to say, I'm the kind of person who finds one artist that they and downloads just about everything they can find, so had I posted the list as it consecutively occured, I would have had Hanson, Damien Rice and John Mayer populating almost the enire list...

Oh and about that Wham thing...haha...
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Breakfast [Feb. 18th, 2005|11:01 pm]
[Current Mood |tiredtired]
[Current Music |John Mayer - My Stupid Mouth (Acoustic)]

This is a ridiculously detailed piece of semi-gibberish that might be one of my favorite things I've ever written. It was inspired by all the different people I've had come in and out the doors of my home. Hope you enjoy.

When you're an artist, you eventually get skilled enough to where you could paint a picture in the dark and have it turn out exactly like you want it. You get that seventh sense in your head that tells you exactly which colors to mix, how many strokes to use, where to shade and where to crosshatch. It's like knowing your house like the back of your hand. The same is true for mothering I suppose. For as long as I can remember, I dreamed of having children. As a child I would ask for nothing but baby dolls and I would spend my days creating worlds where I was their mother, taking care of their every need, want and whim. It was my one and only dream.

I've learned that very few people in their lives get to achieve their dreams, and I did seven times. I have seven beautiful children, and I revel in being their mother every single day. I've developed that seventh sense of motherhood so well, that I can tell each of my children from the remnants they leave at the breakfast table. My three eldest boys are the ones I've best perfected this with, as it is their three personalities that has made our family name so prevalent around the world.

On this particular morning, Isaac sat at the head of the table. See, out of all of my children, (and my husband) Isaac is the only one who still eats breakfast at the dining room table.(On a regular basis.) Isaac is a ritualistic man. He's been an early riser since he was very young, but he was never one to get up early to watch morning cartoons. As a young boy I would find him playing quietly with his toys, or simply sitting looking out the window. He also loved to get his little red step stool and get the mail, bless his heart. As he got older I'd find him reading and soon playing his guitar.

Before any of this however Isaac creeps out of his room, and into the kitchen. He'll find whichever cereal suits his fancy, (usually Honey Nut Cheerios) pour it into a bowl, minus the milk, make himself an English muffin (if our food stock offers,) and spread peanut butter over each half. (If not an English muffin, half of a plain bagel with blueberry cream cheese, and if we're really running low, wheat toast and mango jam.) Pour himself a glass of juice, (might I inform you, there is at least five types of juices in our fridge at all times. Apple for Isaac, grape for Taylor, and orange for Zachary. Then there's pineapple for Jessica and Avery and fruit for Mackenzie and Zoë.) Then he'll take this, the milk and a napkin or paper towel to the table. He'll set it all down, get the paper, let the dog out and finally sit down to his meal. He pours the milk (2% to be specific. The rest of the family drinks skim, with exception to Jessica, who drinks lactate free milk-she's lactose-intolerant) He then proceeds to consume his meal quietly while reading his paper. He cleans up after himself quite well, but from time to time will leave his glass or napkin on the table, which is precisely what he's done this morning. His creased, hardly used napkin is lying at the head of the table.

This morning Zachary sat on the right side of the table closest to Zoë's booster seat. I can tell from the dried splashes of milk and jelly at the place. Zachary never was a late sleeper, but he never favored getting up early either. (Except on Saturday's he gets up at the crack of dawn with Zoë and Mackenzie, watching morning cartoons. It's been tradition with Zachary and Mackenzie since Mac was about 3 and Zoë just joined right in.) Zac will get up, go to the bathroom, brush his teeth and hair (that is before he cut it) and then he'll wander sleepy eyed into the kitchen. Like Isaac, he's a cereal fiend, but it's usually just that. Some mornings however (like this one) he'll have a piece of wheat toast with wild plum jam. Zachary never drinks juice in the morning, just a tall glass of water (he'll save his orange juice for lunch. When the boys aren't on tour they hardly ever drink any soda, it's too hard on their vocal chords. It's mostly Avery, Mackenzie and Walker who consume the soda in the house. Zoë is too young and for some reason Jessica never liked it.) Zac will take a few minutes to choose his cereal (he usually favors Froot Loops or Fruity Pebbles) make his toast (if he so desires) grab the milk, water pitcher, jam and all his needed materials all to the table. He spreads the jam on his toast first and takes a bite (he insists the jam tastes better warm. His father agrees.) Then he'll pour the milk in the bowl and next his cereal. (Nobody else in the house does it that way I think he does it just to be different.) Then he'll sit down, grab the entertainment and sports section and scarf away while reading. After breakfast, he'll toss his dishes in the sink and head for the shower.

Taylor, my notoriously late sleeper (That boy will sleep all day and night if you allow him. When not on tour he's never out of bed before 12:30PM, thus the culprit for late night studio sessions. Taylor insists that night is when he's at his "creative prime." Walker and I think he's nocturnal.) Sat on the left side, smack dab in the middle. His evidence is a small dusting of pop tart crumbs. Ever since he was a baby Taylor has been a rather spontaneous eater, his breakfast no exception to this rule. (See, because of Taylor's late sleeping habits, he's eating breakfast while the rest of us are eating lunch. Because of his late start, he's massively hungry by dinner time and never passes up an offer for a second helping of potatoes.) Taylor usually comes up with an odd breakfast concoction. Most mornings however, he'll toast two un-frosted pop tarts, smother them with butter (real butter, mind you not margarine or any other substitute) and grape jelly and chow down. He'll repeat this twice, sometimes three times and finish it off with a medium sized glass of grape (on rare occasions white grape) juice, and a large cup of black coffee. (Ritualistic like Isaac, Taylor always uses the same red glass for his juice and the same cobalt blue mug for his coffee. It's the one he purchased in Mexico.) Upon finishing his brunch Taylor will dust himself off and fight with Isaac or Avery for the shower. (I've been trying to talk Walker into renovating and installing another bathroom, but he's stubborn as a bull and won't give in.)

To me, there's nothing more wonderful than knowing each of my children's morning/afternoon (in Taylor's case) routine. It's something charming, predictable and comforting. I would continue with the rest of the family, but with so many of us I'm simply not awarded the time. (It's the Fourth of July and we're all off to buy fireworks.) I will tell you quickly that Avery wakes up shortly after Isaac, but never eats until Zac is at least half way done with his meal. Jessica is in the shower while Zac eats, Zoë rises shortly after Avie and makes herself content with a spoonful of peanut butter and Mackenzie graces us all somewhere around 10:30 and 10:45. I haven’t yet established a routine (even in all my years) but I never get out of bed without a peck on the forehead from Walker and a slobbery peanut butter scented hug from Zoë. (I suppose that may be considered a routine? Oh well.)
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August [Feb. 6th, 2005|08:39 am]
[Current Mood |draineddrained]
[Current Music |matchbox tweny "rest stop"]

I'm a huge dork, and most of the time too lazy to come up with my own character for stories, so, most of the stuff I write is either Hanson or Dawson's Creek based. This one is based on the characters of Dawson's creek, but you don't need to be familiar with the show to get the gist of what's going on.

I really like the way this one turned out. I wrote it during that week here when it was like, -30 with the windchill. It was my lovely little way of pretending I wasn't sitting next to a space heater freezing my ass off. Please, let me know what you think.

It was one of the last days of August, muggy and hot. The sun was on its last drink of summer, and guzzling it appropriately; not quite ready to surrender to autumn. Pacey Witter removed his grass dirty flip flops and set them next to Jennifer Lindley's clean pink ones. He let his toes skim the water and turned his face to his blonde companion. She was leaned back on her palms, her neck turned toward the sun, her summer bleached waves falling just short of brushing the dock. Her halter top matched her flip flops and her cut off shorts left little frays of denim splayed over her almost tan thighs. Her toenails matched her shoes and her shirt. Pacey smiled awkwardly. Jen eyed him with a brown-green gaze and spoke.

"Tell me something, Witter." She said simply, making tiny kerplunk noises with her toes on the water. Pacey's gaze traveled past her and to the small pile of napkins stained with the ice cream they'd finished a few minutes earlier. He cleared his throat for no real reason and closed his eyes, giving way to the first silly memory that came to mind.

"When Joey and I were seven, Lily let us walk to the ice cream shop by ourselves the first time. She gave us each enough for a cone, god damn we were excited. It was so hot we were nearly drooling when we got there, we must have looked like such dorks. She ordered strawberry and I ordered vanilla. We promised Lily we'd be home quick, so we took our cones out the door. Joey was wearing a pair of her sister's old sandals, helplessly too big for her. She tripped on the door jamb on the way out and landed on her knees, and her ice cream went everywhere. She got up and had this nasty looking gash on her left knee. I had one of those stupid sweatbands on so I took it off and wrapped it around her knee. She walked home barefoot with a bright orange sweatband knotted around her leg. We shared what was left of my cone on her front porch. She smelled like vanilla for the rest of the afternoon." Jen's lips twisted into a giggle as she brushed a wayward strand of hair from her face.

"Cute." Pacey swatted at a gnat and stretched his arms over his head.

"Tell me something, Lindley." He echoed her, hooking an arm around her neck. She leaned against him playfully, and Pacey felt a little bit guilty for noticing that the action seemed less natural when not with Joey. Jen cleared her throat just like Pacey had, but didn't have to close her eyes to come up with a memory.

"It was really late one summer night, the summer you and Joey were on the True Love." Jen paused for a beat and watched Pacey's expression change, quite obviously registering the millions of memories the name of his boat brought up. Jen continued. "And Jack and I had gone skinny dipping, right here off this dock. We'd gotten out of the water and were both just laying here naked watching the fireflies and talking about absolutely nothing. It sounds weird, but it was wonderful." Pacey nodded his head, some smart remark about her nudity dancing on his tongue, but he pushed it away. It wasn't his place to ruin such a beautiful memory.

"Doesn’t sound weird to me at all Lindley," he murmured low in his throat. "Not at all." There was a comfortable silence between them, their words floating in the air above them. Taking her foot out of the water, Jen pressed it against the warn wood of the dock and removed it carefully, peering at the watermark she had left. Pacey mused at how little her toes looked. Tracing the cracks in the wood, Jen licked her lips.

"Do you miss her?" she asked.

"Something fierce," Pacey answered simply, maybe even sadly. "I miss that girl something fierce." Jen turned her face to look at him, squinting against the setting sun.

"She'll come back to you Pace." She said quietly. Pacey met her with a look that matched the sky above their heads.

"I know."
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Midnight [Feb. 4th, 2005|07:15 am]
[Current Mood |cheerfulcheerful]
[Current Music |John Mayer - "Trust Myself"]

Just a little something that popped into my head I thought I'd share.

It is New Year's Eve and the lot of us (that is, my family and the Hanson's,) has descended upon the old community theatre to hold the annual party. The building is white, kind of; most of the paint has peeled off leaving it a weird brown-grey color. Inside it's surprisingly interesting, in the middle of being torn apart. I think it was Zac who convinced the theatre director to let us use it and I'm grateful for it. There's a small balcony still intact holding a few red velour chairs with gold trim. Zac and Kate are up there now, trying to avoid the crowd I'm sure. Their chairs, unattached to the floor are pulled close together. Zac's arm is comfortably slung around her, pulling her close. Her head is resting near his collarbone, and he's whispering something into her ear. Above them and all around the room are old posters and playbills still in their frames on the walls.

The main level is open, all the chairs torn out, exposing the stains on the wood floor. There are one or two chairs in the corner by the snack table we brought in, and Mackenzie is sitting in one playing his handheld video game, paying no heed to the boisterous atmosphere that surrounds him.

The snack table is where most everyone is gathered, laughing and conversing over cheese, crackers, soda and alcohol. Matt, Isaac, Walker and my father are all nursing bottles of Corona, having an atypical and strictly male conversation about Oklahoma and Georgia football. I'm not sure weather or not they're talking college or pro, and I don’t know why I care. Jessica and Avery are at the other end, peels of their laughter mixing with the music floating from the speakers. They look almost identical from the behind, trails of white blonde hair spilling down their backs. Avery's giggles trail off as she tosses a cracker at her older sister. Jessica catches it expertly and ruins the game by taking a bite. I laugh with them, and run a hand through my hair.

Diana and my mother are leaning against the stage sipping at mixed drinks, keeping an eye on the younger children. Zoë has her nephew by the hands and is dancing with him across the stage singing loudly some song her mother has taught her. Ezra, my beautiful little son, keeps trying to look up at her but never gets the chance before he loses his balance and has to turn his attention to his feet again. A wide smile is plastered on his two year-old lips. I smile too.

The sound system, (wired expertly with band equipment) changes from Sheryl Crow to Peter Gabriel. "In Your Eyes" is weaving through the air of the theatre, and I hear Isaac make some inevitable comment about "Say Anything." Scanning the room I realize Taylor is nowhere to be found. I turn in a little circle, craning my neck to see around corners and still can't find him. Sighing softly, I tip my drink to my lips, enjoying the strawberry flavor. Before I can take another sip it's plucked from my hands.

"Natalie," Taylor says with a charming smile, setting my drink on the ground. "Come dance with me." I blush, although I don't know why, and he leads me to the middle of the room. He pulls me toward him and our torsos bump as he rests his hands at the small of my back.

"Where were you?" I ask, resting my cheek against the soft material of his red t-shirt.

"Outside," he mumbles his words somewhere in my hair. "Fooling with the grill." I nod a little, closing my eyes. Taylor's hands are moving in lackadaisical circles all around my back. "S'almost midnight." He says after a beat, looking at me. I meet his gaze and brush a few strands of hair from his eyes.

"I know." He brings his hands to my head and tangles his fingers in my hair.

"It's gonna be a good year." He almost smiles. I can feel strands of my hair being twirled and un-twirled around his pointer finger. His gaze darts to the clock. It reads 11:59. "You gonna kiss me?" he presses against me, and bows his head. Easing onto my tiptoes I position my mouth dangerously close to his. His tongue wets his lips in anticipation and almost touches my own.

"Maybe." I whisper. He watches the clock change and I can hardly hear the cheers and squeals as he captures my lips in his.
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New To This Shin-Dig [Feb. 4th, 2005|03:39 am]
[Current Mood |weirdweird]

Well, Hi.

I'm Beth, and now I have a livejournal. This seems to be where all the cool kids are haging out and even though I'm not cool, I thought I'd give this a try.

Like I said, I'm Beth.

-My full name is Bethany, but please, don't call me that. It's reserved for close friends and family only.
-I'm 19 (Newly so, just turned that way on January 21st)
-I live in Minnesota. No, it isn't cold here all the time, just from about Mid October to Late April.
- I love music, of all kinds.
-I play the drums (8 years) and guitar (2 years)
-I'm in a band. We don't have a formal name yet, we just go by "Kari Chrsitine and Beth Garland" but it's fun.
-I write. Songs, poetry, short and long fiction, non-fiction, pointless commentary, rants and raves, reviews, etc...in fact that's probably most of what's going to end up here.
- I love Hanson, and I don't care what you have to say about it.
- I'm kind of shy, but I love talking to new people. IM me if you wish. (SnOtGuRL22)

Ah, hmm...that's probably that right now.

I need friends!!

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