Wednesday, December 31, 2008


To my new followers (including but not limited to myself; yeah, that's right, I follow my own blog. Something wrong with that?). It is really sweet of you guys! I'd also like to take this opportunity to say that my followers are the coolest mo-fo's around!

I think I may have took a little too much hydrocodone syrup... I just love being high on this shit!

Monday, December 29, 2008

I feel...

like shit, tonight. I have the all-to-familiar feeling that I'm coming down with something, yet again. My immune system sucks beyond belief. The conundrum is that I look physically well, but inside it's all a big system of malfunctioning crap. Someone told me I was a hypochondriac. I wish this were true! However, in the past, when I've gone to the doctor thinking things were a little bad, they always turn out to be much worse. I guess at this point I should be one. Maybe if I caught things in early stages, they would not be so bad.

Anyway, I don't think it's anything life threatening by any means. I just feel worn out and achy. All of this will inevitably make me depressed in the end, so then I'll have to battle that. But so it goes...

It feels as though I'm just writing for the sake of writing, tonight. That is not a good feeling for me, as I really don't care for things that I call "filler." However, it's the most I can muster tonight, and it'll have to do.

Oh, and...

Anthony Hopkins's portrayal of Hannibal Lecter. I can't believe I forgot that one!

Sunday, December 28, 2008

What Dreams May Come

I had a dream about a former college professor of mine, last night/this morning. Unfortunately, I can't remember many details. We were in what appeared to be a shopping mall but representative of a college cafeteria of sorts. We were talking and walking and seemed to be having a nice time, although I was a little worried someone would see us. I mentioned this to him, and he said he didn't give a damn. After that, I felt somewhat better. My memory on this is very vague (possibly because I took two sleeping pills last night). More of it may come back to me in flashes throughout the day. I really hope so. It would be quite interesting to break it down and try and analyze what it meant, as I do believe wholeheartedly that most dreams do have some kind of meaning behind them, especially the ones you care to remember.

The title of this blog is also a Robin Williams movie. Maybe it's the hopeless romantic in me, but I really liked the film. Even if an afterlife isn't real, it's still a nice thought while you are living. Now that is the optimist in me talking. It could very well be that being a hopeless romantic and an optimist go hand-in-hand. Throw in being masochistic and we really have a good time!

Current movies I've had the pleasure (or lack thereof) of watching: Burn After Reading (My sister's Christmas present to me; I'm glad someone pays attention to things I would like), Hamlet 2, Descent, Searching for the Wrong Eyed Jesus, Bodies, Rest, & Motion, A Little Trip to Heaven, and Last Tango in Paris. These have been watched over the last month (didn't want anyone to think that I have NO life, although you wouldn't be far off base).

My favorite of these would have to be, of course, Last Tango in Paris. I found myself so helplessly in love with Marlon Brando's character. This could very well be the kind of man I could spend the rest of my life with. Well, at least moments of the rest of my life. Our fears of commitment and fears of nonphysical intimacy are so very, very compatible. Not to mention the fact that although we fear it and run from it, it finds us and then screws us over in a big, big way. It is our own faults, of course, that this happens. We only want more when we cannot have it. We have all the power until we show weakness, and then we are powerless and loving it. We are both confusing to others because of our shifty and dodgy natures. And it is all very sad and very erotic. There is no sex like the sex of desolation.

On a lighter note, Hamlet 2 was funny as hell in parts. Steve Coogan's character was so lovable but not doable. I couldn't sleep with someone that passionate and with such a head-in-the-clouds personality. I just realized how often I think about a man's character in a film, while sizing him up to being someone I either could or could not sleep with. I'm such a dude sometimes! Or maybe I have to objectify them in order to feel connected.

Movie characters I would so sleep with: Jack Nicholson's potrayal of The Joker, Jack Nicholson's character in Terms of Endearment, Jack Nicholson's character in The Shining, Jack Nicholson's character in The Witches of Eastwick, Robert DeNiro in Cape Fear, Colin Firth's character in And When Did You Last See Your Father, Clive Owen in Beyond Borders, and last but definitely not least, Javier Bardem in No Country for Old Men. It may appear to you that I need to get laid. I'm not arguing the point.

Friday, December 19, 2008

Last Night

I couldn't sleep as usual and I had this big, elaborate blog all plotted out in my mind. I refused to write because I told myself if I just lay there a few more motionless minutes, I would eventually fall asleep. This worked after about an hour.

I'm a person who is at peace with being a loner. The majority of my life has been spent either alone physically or mentally. This concept is nothing new to me. However, there is nothing more lonely than lying in bed and not being able to fall asleep. Someone lying next to me, would not alleviate this problem, so I'm not looking for companionship in that sense. Actually, come to think of it, that makes matters worse. In that scenario, not only does the sense of isolation come in to play, but also the greatest sense of envy that one could ever feel. I want so badly to be asleep and peaceful, just as they are.

When I was much, much younger (child and adolescent) and I'd be in bed with someone, such as my grandmother (who I love dearly and would never intentionally hurt), she'd be trying to fall asleep and I'd do whatever I could to keep her awake. Even if it meant giving her a "wet willy," which could sound more gross than it actually is, so let me clarify what that means: lick your finger, stick it in someone's ear and wiggle it around. This is a very annoying trick that I learned from my uncle. I am forever in debt.

I'm surprised that any of my friends ever wanted me to sleep over. I guess when you're a kid, you don't plan ahead for the friend who won't let you drift off to Dreamland. They probably regretted their decision later on in the night, I'm sure.

Now, I'd like to think that a significant other would at least partially enjoy the fact that I'll do nearly ANYTHING to keep them awake. But still, at some point, even this could prove tiring.

So, anyway, back to the point I was getting at when I started this, I had a good blog planned, but I seem to have forgotten any details I had come up with. I do, however, remember a new book idea. It could be my best one yet. It's an idea that could be made into the Indie film of my dreams.

Monday, December 15, 2008

Semester's Over

And not a moment too soon.

I'm going to keep it short, tonight. I should be giving my kids a bath but I haven't yet mustered up the energy to get up and do it. I'm so lazy.

I finally went back to work, today. It was nice. I even worked more hours than I was suppose to. Part of the reason for this is because we'll be off all next week, except for Monday and Tuesday. I'm not sure that getting over 19 hours in one week, while only getting maybe 10, the next is alright. The work-study program I'm in stipulates a 19 hour/week maximum. The lady I work with/for said it would be fine, though. I'll take her word for it. Mainly, I just need the money and I appreciate her giving me a chance to make more.

Maybe I'll write more, tomorrow. Especially if I get bored at the job I'm getting paid to do almost nothing at. Perfect job for me!

Friday, December 12, 2008

For my Friend, Who's Bored at Work

I'm not sure reading this will help your boredom, but at least it might kill 5 minutes of your time. I'm so proud of you for working at an 8-5 job. I've come to realize that I do not have the patience for it and that really makes me upset at myself. I don't even have the patience for a 4 hour/day job! Guess I'll never be a productive member of society. What can I offer? In my greatest hopes, maybe a book or two that might never get published or read widely. I can't say they won't be read at all, however, because I do have friends and family who I would force to read them. Hopefully at the very least they would read them out of a sense of obligation, otherwise I'd have to use Chinese torture methods. Those are never fun.

Yesterday, I came up with the conclusion that I might be happier if I'd quit thinking so much. Then I started thinking about how not to think. You see where I'm going with this. Think, think, think. The voices in my head never shut the hell up! They're always pondering, nagging, praising, chastising, encouraging, discouraging, soft-spoken, screaming, and so on and so forth. I tried hypnotizing myself but that was the biggest mistake ever. I've tried meditation but that didn't work. Maybe I'm just not doing it right...

I could see a therapist but there's really no way they are going to tell me something I don't already know. I'm sure a lot of people think that before they go to therapists, only to discover that they were wrong and that people on the outside can see things that they cannot. But I KNOW that he/she will only see less than what is there. And they'll give me some antidepressants that do absolutely nothing for me except make me wonder why they're not working, which makes me only worry more about my mental instability. And not to mention that these get costly and I have no insurance.

I did talk to a therapist, once. I think I was about 18 or 19. It was before I got married for the first time, anyway, but I was dating my soon-to-be future ex-husband. We had been arguing, as we always did, and though this time was nothing new or special, it caused me to have a bit of a breakdown. I mean, I really flipped out on him, my mom, and every other poor soul who happened to be in the line of fire, so to speak. I just took off running as fast as I could out my mom's back door and into the woods. When they found me, later, I was naked and trying to build a tree house. Nah, I'm joking about that. Fact is I never made it to the woods because my ex was faster than me and caught me before I could make my great escape. That was my first panic attack and it sucked, royally.

Let me describe a panic attack for those who have never had one. First you feel like you can't breathe and each breath seems to be pointless. You tell yourself not to panic because it will only make it worse, which of course makes you panic more. It really feels like something you will not survive. Then after about a minute or two (feels like 30) you are back to normal. Whatever that is. Basically, it's an un-fun experience that you would only wish on your worst loved one.

Well, I hope this has been as interesting for you as it has been for me!

Monday, December 8, 2008

Book Idea

I'm thinking about writing a book about my own journey into death. It seems grim, I know, but bare with me. I can imagine Oprah adding it to her book club and then bringing me on her show to scold me for not being terminally ill or for not having a DDD (designated death date). My response will be, "Oprah, are we not all dying?" How could she argue? And then I'd point out that we never know when we will meet our end, so if I were to die the next day, would she recant her objections to the obtuse nature of my novel? I doubt she would because Oprah is always right. You don't get to be rich and powerful without being right, right?

I really don't know where I'm going with this thought. It just sprang into my head, as so many things do, and I felt like typing it out. Plus I thought this blog lacked a little imagination--Joke of the Day.

Why do I feel so internally tortured? And why do I never write anything positive in my blogs? In reality, I'm a pretty optimistic, happy-go-lucky person. Maybe I'm afraid that optimism seems ignorant and if one truly understands things, there is no way they can be optimistic. But, again, I AM an optimist, dammit, so I shall rebuke that theory and trade it in for visions of sunshine and rainbows. I really seem to be cynical as of late...

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Sorry Blog

I've been neglecting my blog, as of late. I'm pretty much new to this kind of thing, anyway. It's a miracle I even do it at all, considering.

My daughter is alright. Her surgery went well for the most part, except we had to stay overnight at the hospital, which was unexpected. That sucked. But all's well that ends well and she's almost back to her old self. She's laying next to me as I write this. I can't understand why this is not boring to her, considering she can't read. Well, I'm being a bit presumptuous. If she could read, she would have probably gotten up and left by now. It's probably more exciting to watch me type and see the letters pop up on the screen than to actually read what I'm writing, today. This is really sad when I take into account that I'm an aspiring, creative writer.

Anyway, I may seem to be in a mood today. That is easily explained by the fact that I am in a mood, and a crappy one at that. I decided to try and quit taking pain killers on a somewhat regular basis. My brain does not seem to be happy with this, but I think it's better for us in the long run. And by "us" I do mean my brain and I because at times I believe we are separate from each other. It's complicated.

So, at least now I know what recovering drug addicts mean by taking it one day at a time. Actually, I think I learned that lesson when I quit smoking the last time I quit smoking. I'm currently a smoker. Maybe I torture myself by trying to get addicted to things, becoming addicted, and then quitting. It's a test of strength and endurance. A test of which I fail even after passing.

My daughter's breath has been really, really bad after her surgery. It's appallingly bad. So bad that I feel almost nauseated by it. Yet, when she wants to be near me or wants to kiss me, I am happy. This proves the theory that not only is love blind, it also causes chronic olfactory dysfunction (and yes, I did Google that). Her voice even sounds a little different. It's more nasally right now, but it sounds exceptionally sweet and innocent, which is just how a child should sound.