Music seems to heal the soul more than anything else. Death, oddly enough, seems to put sorrow into one's life. Death is both the winner and the loser in any game. The one who dies loses all pain and suffering, yet at the same time, they lose their ability to finish anything or be there to comfort those left behind. So who is the true winner? Or is there no such thing as winning unless you choose to accept it as winning? Does what others give us determine our joy? Or is it what we choose to see that determines our true happiness? Is there a way to look at a dying rat on the filthy street and find beauty? Whenever you win a game, you lose the game as well. Whenever you find happiness, you can surly find sorrow. Yet the reverse is true as well, whenever you find sorrow, you can find happiness as well…
Anyways, away from that rant, I have managed to find something that provides a lasting joy. An escape from my pains that lasts. When I pick up my harp and strum upon the strings, it numbs the pain. If Ross and I have a girl, we decided to name her after Maydawn. However, I do dearly long for a boy. I cannot tell you why.
