What dreams may come

For the past few nights I have had a recurring nightmare, though slightly different each time. They possess most of the same basic aspects. In the first dream I am being stalked by a killer. He comes up behind me and stabs me repeatedly. I fall to the floor, but I am not dead. As he leaves, I silently screaming for two children to run. I assume they are my children. Then I wake up. In the second dream, the killer is imprisoned in a glass cage. He kills two people and escapes. I am walking with a friend and we see the killer. I lock eyes with the killer, then I wake up. So needless to say, I am not getting any sleep. I scare myself awake and can’t go back to sleep.

So today I decided to do a little dream interpretation, by way to the internet. I found the following descriptions in a dream dictionary.

To dream that you are murdered, suggests that some important and significant relationship has been severed and you are trying to disconnect yourself from your emotions.
To dream that you have been killed, suggests that your actions are disconnected from your emotions. Alternatively, it refers to drastic changes that are happening in your life.
This dream may also represent a part of you or your life that you wish would leave you alone and stop creating a nuisance. Killing may represent the killing off of old parts of yourself and old habits.
To see a killer in your dream, suggests that an essential aspect of your emotions have been cut off. You feel that you are losing your identity and your individuality. Alternatively, this dream may represent purification and the healing process. You are standing up for yourself and putting a dramatic end to something.

It makes sense to me. I think that it means that I am coming to the end of the healing process. Odd way to heal.

Where does this come from?

Yesterday I get an email from a friend whose is puzzled over the origins of steak. Not in a profound way, though I am not sure how it could be profound, but in a rather “WTF?!?” sort of way. To be precise, her question was (drumroll) “What animal is steak...pork...beef? I know he doesn't eat pork.” The “HE” she is referring to would be her new male friend, who does not eat pork for religious reasons. Imagine the fallout if she had asked him that question.... The explanation/exchange went something like this:

Me: ARE YOU KIDDING, you really don't know this? Steak comes from cows.
Unknown Meat Eater(UME): No I don't! I knew pork chops, ham and bacon were pork and hamburger was beef. Never wondered about steak. You will be making jokes about this for days!
Me: I can't even joke about it. It is just too sad….
UME: It's not that bad!
Me: It is pretty bad.
UME: I know milk comes from cows and cheese comes from….look I don't have to know this stuff!
Me: OMG! Yes, yes you do need to know which animal died for your dining pleasure. It is only right.

This is a 24 year-old woman. I am not at all a genius, but come on. Why would you eat meat not knowing which animal it came from? Ugh! And what is the internet for? I research all my incredibly stupid questions on the internet. There is no need to let people in on just how stupid I am. But for you, gentle readers, I will share just how stupid my friends are.

List of my banned books....

I was tagged by Mailyn to list the books that I dislike. I should probably explain, I read a lot. Sometimes these books are just bland and I usually don’t recall them. That is unless I accidentally pick it up and start reading it again. Then I get that odd feeling like I have done this before. These books are ones that were recommended to me, or they are by authors that I usually enjoy. So that is why they have stuck in my mind.

1. Wicked by Gregory Maguire - Perhaps I like my wicked witches to be mysterious and evil, not misunderstood, romantically-challenged and politically subversive. Perhaps if there were song and dance breaks written into the book.

2. The Witching Hour series by Ann Rice - I usually enjoy her books, but this series just kept going and going and going. I liked the first book, but about half way through the second book, it seemed that she ran out of story ideas and just started writing anything. And then there was three.

3. The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver - This book was recommended to me by a psych professor. The three daughters in the book are staged at three different developmental stages and Kingsolver does a remarkable job depicting these. Other than that.....

4. Another Roadside Attraction by Tom Robbins - I love that he is quirky, but this one was just too quirky for me.

5. The Edge of Reason by Helen Fielding - Just because you scored a movie deal with the first novel, it does not mean that you have to force more story where there clearly was none. Why did Bridget have to go to prison?!?!

6. The May Queen: Women on Life, Love, Work and Pulling it all Together in your 30s by Andrea N. Richesin - This is a collection of short stories, and some are quite lovely. However, I have this book firmly wedged between my mattress and box spring to prevent the evil from escaping into the world. This is no inspirational book. These women hit thirty, said “Oh, my fucking God!” and had it pulled together in a matter of minutes. Blah!

7. The Other Side of the Mountain by John Braswell - Read it in high school and the description of eating raw frogs will stay with me until my death.

8. Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier - It just kept getting sadder and sadder and sadder.

9. Disappearing Act by Terry McMillan - He was a loser when she meet him, a loser while she dated him, and a loser when she broke up. So what was the point of the book?

10. Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert Heinlein - Okay this could simply be because it was my ex-husband's favorite book.

11. Cry, the Beloved Country by Alan Paton - I keep trying and trying and trying, but I can’t get past the first chapter.

12. She’s Come Undone by Wally Lamb - Bad, bad, bad. I had to stop reading it.

What Color is your Rainbow? Mine is Black.

The world is a vampire, sent to drain

Secret destroyers, hold you up to the flames

And what do I get, for my pain?

Betrayed desires, and a piece of the game

(Smashing Pumpkins)

My new manicure. Toes painted black. My roommate jokes that they are black like my soul. I find it lovely. But my toes are slathered in a color that is considered hot at the moment. Funny how things spin around. My black, the color of angst. My little bit of punk rock rebellion is no longer really a rebellion. It is like hearing The Ramones "Gabba Gabba Hey" during a cell phone commercial. Skulls lose their edge, and suddenly pink seems more subversive.

But I find that idea of my black soul has me contemplating my angst. Following me into adulthood. I assumed that upon reaching my 30s I would no longer feel sad in a non-explainable melancholy sort of way. Of course I knew that there would be sadness, but I assumed that it would be grown up, explainable, curable and/or preventable sadness. Something to be dealt with and handled in a mature fashion. But securely in my 30s, I still find myself standing on the edge of the shore, water kissing my toes, beckoning me to slid under the cool waters and float listlessly along. How often I give into this moment. Perhaps that is the true sign of adulthood, when you can resist the pull of angst. When you reject that selfish moment, pulling yourself out of bed to deal with the world.

Everyone Needs Goals -

One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words. ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

I think that this shall be my new goal. To do things that soothe the mind. My own mind tends to be contantly thrashing about on the actions of others, causing me no small amount of heartache and grief. Perhaps these brief repasts will help me move just slightly closer to sanity.

Mysteries of the Long and Winding Road......

Driving home last night, I am confronted by an interesting sight, an art car, well more precisely an art truck. Perhaps art cars are a strictly Houston thing. I am not sure. People turn their vehicles into moving works of art and/or political statements. So last night I see this truck, it has rooster plates glued to the tail gate, an iguana attached to the door, and written across the back windshield is “Peace is the absence of separation.” This confused me. I sent out frantic text messages to random friends asking for them to explain this to me. All I could think was “untrue, untrue”. I pictured warring tribes, religions, cultures and the only thing keeping them at peace is separation. So I get a text from a friend that explains, “When I am with you I feel at peace and that is the absence of separation.” How fucking cool is that? Suddenly I love this art car driving Texas chick. I wish her and her rooster plates all the best.


I have a friend that lives quite a distance from the office. Her drive home in the evening is usually 1.5 hours. She often encounters quite extraordinary things. Much in the vain of Dr. Seuss, oh, the things that she sees. She will often call me or send me text messages regarding the more interesting sights. Such as there is a naked man driving, guy hitting 6 foot bong while driving, hot guy flirting with her, things of that nature. Last night (it was an odd night all around) she sends me a message that a guy is brushing his teeth while driving. Her concern is where he was going to spit. I reply that perhaps, he is a swallower. This is all the more funny to me because I know that she is not a swallower. Perhaps, the moral of this story is that there are things that you do not need to know about your friends.

Blue boxes and white ribbons....

Hippy Dancing

Here you go, you dirty girl
Good God, try to love try to oh
God's love is alive inside you
You know who needs you

I wanna be your hunger
I wanna see you open wide
And then I COULD go down for you
I wanna blow your mind

It's my aim to kill you
My aim's to love you
(Dave Matthews Band)

Under the stars, the night closes around me and herby smells fill the air. I stand on a blanket in a field barefoot and dancing, pink skirt swirling around my knees. I dream of a perfect night when a hippy guy will join me to dance on my blanket and sing songs of love. Until then, this is a perfect Friday night.

Tagged!

It's astounding, time is fleeting

Madness takes its toll

But listen closely, not for very much longer

I've got to keep control

(Rocky Horror Picture Show)

I have been tagged by Holly. I am to list 20 things that annoy me. Oddly, I stand in the shower most mornings ranting, writing in my head things that annoy me. Then I let the water wash it away. I fear opening the door to my annoyances, fearing I will be carried away by the sheer power of them. But now that I have been requested to discuss them, I have gone silent. I think of my annoyances, I list them in order of sheer capacity to make me scream, I group them (i.e., road rage, people, things), but I can’t seem to get them out. So here I am attempting to list 20 things.....

(Why, God, why?)

1. Tennis shoes - ugh.
2. If I say "excuse me" that is a polite way of saying "get the fuck out of the way", so please do. Don’t just stand there and stare at me. I know it is rare to actually hear polite things, but try to focus.
3. People that complain about the gum or candy that I have on my desk. WTF?!?!? If you don’t like it don’t take any, or here is a novel idea, buy your own.
4. Men that rush to get on or off the elevator, through the door or on to the escalator before me or any other woman. Didn’t your mothers teach you any manners? You don’t have to hold the door for me, but you don’t have to check me like I am a linebacker.
5. If I say that I am not interested in giving you my number, don’t turn on me. I might have a boyfriend, girlfriend, fear of men that have lots of gold teeth; you don’t know and you liked me before I said no.
6. People that walk really slowly at the gym. WHY ARE WE HERE?
7. People that smack gum. Ugh. Especially if it is so bad that I can tell what brand and/or flavor that you are chewing.
8. Please shut cabinet doors, filing cabinet drawers, closet doors, etc. It makes a completely cluttered room just a little neater. And it is my one, trust me on this, little freaky clean thing.
9. I have a college degree, last time I checked, you do not. I am not here to make your copies or send your faxes. I am not your secretary. This one goes out to all the paralegals in my group.
10. Attorneys
11. Not getting the check when I am ready to leave the restaurant and/or bar. Ugh! I am done, please set me free.

(My road rage section)
12. If your car’s name elicits thoughts of adventure, large land masses or sex (hummer), it is more than capable of driving through a rain puddle on the streets of Houston. Go ahead, you spent a lot of money for that all-terrain vehicle, drive it.
13. On the highways in Texas, the far left lane is a passing lane. This means that you are going FASTER than the other drivers. If you are not going faster, then you should not be in the passing lane. If you are new to the state and did not know this, then "Howdy ya’ll, welcome to Texas. Now get the fuck out of my way."
14. If you turn in front of me, and then slam on your brakes to make another turn, you are an asshole. Don’t be shocked when I wave my middle finger.
15. I took the time to put my make-up on at my home, why should I be stuck behind you because you failed to do the same?
16. Hang up the fucking phone. Are you trying to kill us all? Is your phone call that important?

(You got to have friends and some personal stuff)
17. People that are always just a little cooler than you. For example, you tell a friend about a new band, and they have not only seen them 5 or 6 times, they slept with the drummer.
18. When I misspell things. I hate looking back over something that I have written and suddenly realizing that I am a dumb ass.
19. When I can’t find something in my bathroom. I want to get pissed, but I am the only one that lives there. Fuckers - imaginary people moving my shit.....
20. Ex-boyfriends. Why do they exist?

Whew. I actually feel a little lighter.

The prey....

Silently, stealthily I stalk my prey. Moving ever so quietly towards her sleeping mass. I move lightly across the floor as not to disturb her. I listen to her measured breath. Each gentle snore assuring me that she is unaware. Quickly I pounce. Touching her lightly and calling her name. She leaps from the couch. Startled from sweet dreams of cheese nips and jelly beans. She looks at me in shock. Suddenly I feel ashamed, I am a bad puppy parent. I call her name and coo lovingly. She glances wearily at me and begins to wag her tail. "Oh sweetpea, I am so sorry." She sighs as she moves back to the couch. Aware that her instincts have failed her. She sweeps her eyes over me one last time as she snuggles back in for the night.

Thank you Mr. Webster....

apex \AY-peks\ noun
1 a : the uppermost point : vertex b : the narrowed or pointed end : tip

It is a horrible thing when even the word of the day whips you into a frenzy. *Sigh* Never let it be said that I don't enjoy learning new things. To dream naughty dreams while bathed in the florescent lights of my cublicle, oh what fun....

Sweet....

Though a poster from a previous year - I will be seeing Dave & Co. this Friday. Perhaps dancing in a field to Two Step will help put me in a better frame of mind. Maybe someone will trip or faint giving me something to write about....

Enjoy the Silence

I have nothing to say. Writer's block? Perhaps, if I were a writer. A momentary thought that my words, ideas and thoughts are meaningless, but not meaningless to everyone. Maybe I need to be silent more, to hold my tongue at moments when my heart screams with no filter. Now I long to have been silent, punished with the thought that I no longer know what to say.

Back Door Girl

You've been coolin'
And baby, I've been droolin'
All the good times, baby, I've been misusin'-a (Oh)
A-way, way down inside
I'm gonna give ya my love (Ah)
I'm gonna give ya every inch of my love (Ah)
I'm gonna give you my love (Ah)
Yes, alright, let's go (Ah)
(Led Zeppelin)

It is another Led Zeppelin day here in fishy land. I may also get wet at lunch. I am determined to have a good day. So go ahead evil attorneys - give it your best shot......

HISS

Work bad...even mental vacations could not save me.

Fantastic Voyage

Today my body may be at the office, but my mind is on the beach. So if you get a little sand on you when you stop by, I apologize. I just have a vivid imagination.

Bad Girls

There are no good girls gone wrong, just bad girls found out. ~ Mae West

Dreaming of....

Lifeguards.

Help! I can't swim....

Here is hoping that Mr. Momoa has retained some of his Baywatch skills.

Dreaming of.....

reasons to go to jail...

Second Sunday Brunch

Each month a group of friends celebrate the second sunday with brunch. I send out the invitation. I would like to think that I am creative, but it is hard coming up with new ways to say "come to brunch." It needs to be witty and fun. So this is the invitation for this month.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ripe, luscious and juicy

You lounge in sweet oblivion

Unprepared for what fate holds

Suddenly a knife pierces your skin

Your body is ripped in two

Moist inner flesh exposed to the world

The air is filled with the pungent aroma of death

Vital fluids are forced from your body

While eager mouths anticipate the sticky sweetness

You slide away from this world

Screaming out to the heavens

“Why? Why? Why?”

Don’t let their deaths be in vain. Join us as we celebrate the life and times of the orange, giving up their lives so that we may drink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I thought that it was hilarious, others not so much.

Dreaming off....

Reasons to stay in bed.....*sigh*


Bless you, bless you, bless you, She-Ra.

Sweaty and shoe clad - what has my life become...

It is Monday evening, and I have just finished another hour of spin class. I leave praying that all the sweat means that I am currently in the negative regarding calories for the day. We all have dreams*. I leave the gym, decked out in, well, gym fashion. Ponytail, tennis shoes, yoga pants, you get the picture. Now I have an hour left in my evening to race to the mall to purchase a gift for a friend's birthday that is today. The dilemma you ask? I can't stand tennis shoes. It is perfectly acceptable to wear them to the gym, or when you are engaging in other sports like activities, but I hate when people wear them out and about. I would rather see people wearing $1.00 flip flops then gross old sneakers. It is my weirdness - yes. But I am okay with that. Now back to the dilemma. I don't have time to go home and change. I rush to the mall - sweaty and shoe clad. Parking as close to the entrance as possible, I rush straight to the department in need, and begin the search. All the time, I say silent prayers to God to please, please protect my sweaty, shoe wearing visage from people that I know. I grab a shirt and head to a slightly cute *sigh* service guy. I pay and bolt (rather quickly given my footwear), thankful that not a soul has seen me. See church before table dancing was a good thing. So the present will be presented, and if not viewed in the appropriate light, (i.e., I wore SNEAKERS to the mall) I will be a very unhappy girl, with a new shirt.

* And since it is my blog, I get to voice mine.

I am bored and have nothing to say - did you get that?

Please stop....

Each strike of the keys pounds deep within my soul, the noise reverberating through my head like a jack hammer. I sit very still in a vain attempt to prevent the gentle waves of nausea from once again washing over me. I sip gently on my Dr. Pepper. I don’t quite understand what happened. An innocent Sunday afternoon turned decedent. Sipping bellinis, suddenly a change of location is suggested; hours later I am dancing in the middle of a table with a group of gay men. A lone man stands on the floor shouting up dance instructions, in a vain attempt to make me look hot. I sit here wearily trying to recall the moment when it spiraled out of control, the "fuck-it" moment. I mentally run over the checklist of things that usually cause such an incident, shots – no; wild crowd (my “shot” friends) – no; bad day due to work, love, life – no; I recall nothing. Perhaps it was the peaches. I knew there was a reason that I hated them.

Flowers

Standing on the side of the road dressed in tattered baggy clothing. His hair falling in rough dirty curls around his face. He smiles, clutching a large bouquet of flowers. The white blooms drop in the summer heat. Each one hanging down like large bells. I slow to make the corner on my way to work and my eyes pass over him. For a moment his presence is captured in my mind. I can feel his joy and wonder as he finds a safe place for his beautiful flowers. He wedges them into the slates of a public trash can. Protected momentarily from his own grimy hands. I continue to drive on, thoughts of what these flowers mean to him fill my head. A weary sadness curls around my heart and possesses my soul. Perhaps flowers will be the cure.

Bored at work

I don't really want to work, so I spend the afternoon shopping for party dresses on bluefly.

Rain Showers

We emerge from the restaurant. Silently side by side, surprised by the suddenness of the rain shower. I want him to take my hand, as we run through the rain to his car. I want him to kiss me in the humid heat of his car while the rain pours all around us. A stolen moment in the middle of the day. These thoughts flood my mind as we stand waiting for the rain to stop. I know there will be no stolen moments. No sweet kisses, no lingering touches. My dream for us is long past, a moment that has been shattered. For now we are just two people watching the rain.

Wicked Women

“A woman may be as wicked as she likes, but if she isn't pretty it won't do her much good” ~
William Somerset Maugham

The Break-Up Process

Steps in the break-up process, as expressed in your perception of other couples displays of affection. (Perhaps I should write a grant)

1. The Break Up (1-3 months): The only things that keeps you from weeping hysterically are detailed revenge plots and a toxic diet of cheese nips and Dr. Pepper.

When you do happen to leave the couch, if you see couples kissing, you are possessed with the knowledge that it is all an evil conspiracy to hurt you more. You tend to glare at the offending couple, mumbling curses regarding the future of their union. If you spot a wedding ring, you will loudly debate with your friends on if the couple is indeed married to each other.

2. When Will the Agony End (3-6 months): Your friends now avoid you and some no longer take your calls. You have lost the “Cheese Nip” weight, but only because you lack the energy to eat food.

While out, you note that your friends now place you at the end of the table with the other “boring” friends. When you notice a couple kissing, you are filled with an overwhelming desire to cry. You are now convinced that you will never be kissed again. This is especially true if your ex now has a new girlfriend. You tend to stare longingly at the couples and sigh deeply.

3. The Bounce Back (6-9 months): Your friends have begun an obvious battle to pull your soul back from the brink. You jump back into social situations and go out on blind dates. You begin to write your on-line dating profile in your head.

While out if you spot a kissing couple, you tend to feel a tad jealous. You start to daydream about making out with actors, friends, co-workers, bartenders, the man that held the elevator, the guy that rang you up at Starbucks. You only accept dates based on their potential make-out ability. Often you think, oh, I could do that so much better.

4. Cured (9-12 months): You run into your ex on the street and momentarily cannot recall his name. (lovely thought)

You no longer spot couples kissing. When on dates with your current boyfriend, if you happen to look around, you tend to notice girls oddly sighing. Funny, you always thought those were angels singing.

Songs of Solomon

[4:7] Thou art all beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in thee.

In Bloom

The finest qualities of our nature, like the bloom on fruits, can be preserved only by the most delicate handling. Yet we do not treat ourselves nor one another thus tenderly. ~ Henry David Thoreau

The Day After

When I am upset, I lash out quickly, I release the anger, letting it pour from me in a white hot fury. But lately, I have come to realize that there are a couple of men in my life that I am angry at all the time. So last night, in a calm and rational fashion I did some purging. I deleted emails and numbers from my telephone, pictures and text messages where also sent to the great electronic garbage pail in the sky. I will no longer entertain these men from my past. The ones that cheated and lied. They seek something from me now, as if my friendship prevents them from being the person that they really are. I seek something as well, some sort of understanding as to why. There is no explanation that will make me better. I must look forever forward and not back anymore.

So men of my past life, I bid you farewell. I am off to be happy, skip through fields of tulips and kiss strange men.....