The Art of Conversation is, like, kinda dead and stuff...

So,
I was at the gym the other day, again, and I was watching the TV there, again (though for some reason the last few weeks the audio for the TV hasn't been working, it's just all static, so I have to rely on my iPod to drown out the rap music on the stereo and focus really hard on the subtitles...)
Anywho,
saw another commercial that made me angry. Had nothing to do with food this time, but it still fell in the same vein of our society today, crunching many things into a little bit of time and also just the disconnection of everyone. It was for some sort of cell phone, the Samsung 4G or something, I think. Part of their shpeel was that you could be face to face with someone, without actually being there, face to face, the scene showed a guy and girl sitting at a table talking, then transition into the guy holding his phone with the girl's face on the phone during a video chat, etc.
Now, this commercial reminded me of an article I read in the Boston Globe the other day, about how these days we are all super connected by technology and that the newest type of pining is longing for you cell phone to receive a text message. The article then launched into long distance relationships and how they work much differently these days, but also how technology can hinder them as well as help, e.g. you send a text message and it is not replied to right away, what is the other person doing?!
So, back to this TV commercial, you can now be face to face with someone without actually being there, blah blah blah.
Well, the first thing that popped into my head was that scene from Wall-E when there are two guys on their little hover-chairs talking to each other via video, but they're floating right next to each other as well. Also, the scene where Mary's video screen goes away and she's actually seeing where they live for the first time, since her whole life has been lived through that screen.
Is this where we are headed?

That in mind, a friend of mine recently posted a FB status saying something along the lines of "Does anyone ever have real conversations anymore?" since our daily lives are all wrapped up in texts and comments and "likes" (if you have a facebook that is, I do know quite a few people without them)
In any case, I responded to said FB comment with this link
It seemed fitting.

the things you own end up owning you

I had my first day of my internship yesterday. Well, technically it was my 2nd...ish. I went in last week for faculty meetings, and yesterday I went in, went to a meeting, then my supervisor showed me and the other intern around the building.
Public school buildings are like a college dormitory, they have no ventilation. And August & Early September are a tease, their names invoke the feelings and thoughts of autumn, but then they hit you with a heat wave, just as you're pulling all those comfy sweaters out of storage...

Anyway, I haven't had a chance to work with any students yet. I am also terrified about having to do so. There are 2 other interns with me (one is completely new, like me, the other has worked in the school for awhile in a different department) but we have our own room to be our "office" with a phone that we can set up an intern voicemail for, and a scheduling board, to schedule sessions with kids...I AM AN INTERN! gah!

So, that, compounded with my house being a complete mess (due to a recent roommate move-in) my classes starting, staying up until 1am/getting up at 6...and taking on a babysitting job (it's only for 2 hours once a week, but I am selfish and like my "me" time) is just beginning to overwhelm me. It probably won't be as bad next week, since I won't also have things planned for almost every night of the week...
because I had Saturday -Tuesday off (though I didn't realize I had Tuesday off until I showed up to work and was told I wasn't scheduled, but it was ok, I don't like that far away)
so I had 4 days to clean, organize and chill, and I did, but not enough. Saturday I spent most of the day doing laundry and working on my renaissance faire costume, then went to a party that night, Sunday was all me, then Monday was less cleaning, more slacking, then my new roommate started moving things in, which halted any cleaning I was doing, and then she wanted to take me and her friends (who helped with all the heavy stuff) out to dinner, we just went to a place the next street over, but being Labor day it was very busy (take out Thai food) so we were there a lot longer than planned, and by the time we were done it was late and we were all tired
Tuesday the first half of the day was wasted, cause I thought I had work at 1pm, so I just worked on my costume some more and chilled, since I didn't think I could commit to anything, only to show up at work and be handed 4 hours of extra time I wasn't expecting, this allowed me to go to the gym, but then I didn't get to the farmers market cause I wasn't prepared, and even though it's not that far from my house, I got home and didn't want to leave and come back, especially since the new roomie and I were supposed to organize a few things,
but alas, no farmers market means less food, and I have to wait until next Tuesday to go back...when I won't have as much time, ugh, I am so foolish sometimes...
but then I did get to hang out with my mom Tuesday night, she was in the city and staying at a hotel for work, we went to "happy hour" at the concierge and proceeded to enjoy a few large glasses of wine, each, it was so fun :) talking about life, relationships, eavesdropping on the conversations of the people below us, my mom cracking up while on the phone with my step-dad as he whined at her, haha, sigh
Then yesterday was the first day of classes so I had small pockets of time between 8am and 6:30pm then came home to try and organize more at the apartment...but we started later than I expected, so things got moved around, but everything is still in chaos, and I need shelving, BADLY
moved some shelving I had in my living room to the kitchen, but now I have no place to put a bunch of my books and DVDs, though it's my own damn fault, if I had actually read more this summer and gotten rid of books, like I said I was going to then this wouldn't be that much of an issue...
wow I am ranting today...
but yeah, on a break from work right now, work 8am-10 then working again 1pm-3pm, then I am meeting up with my friend who's daughter I am babysitting so she can show me where to pick her up and everything, it's only from 6-8/8:30ish on Thursday, and I definitely have the time, just this week it's stressing me out...cause I want to go home and clean my apartment and have everything settled and in place and not a big freaking mess
not that my apartment was all settled before, but it was getting there, now, ugh, I don't even know where to begin...

it's a wonder I have so much stuff, for all the stress it causes me...tonight is probably gonna be another late night, but time I am going to really purge...

Mini Rant

So,

I don't own a TV. A few reasons being: cost, too easily sucked in...and also the news makes me depressed.

That being said I do get some TV time at the gym, which is just the right dose it seems, though lately it's been too much.

Why?

Well, as much as I loved "Grounded for Life" reruns (no lie, love that show) I really could do without the commercials. And it's not the amount of commercials, really, but what they are about.

5-hour energy commercials: get 5 hours of energy from drinking this tiny bottle of mystery crap...or you could GET MORE SLEEP.

Kellogs Fiber-Something or other bar: girl sitting on a bench "wishing" for a more fiber-ful & healthy snack...eat some fucking fruit.

Lean Cuisine (I think) commercial: you see a woman cooking a bunch of stuff, tons of pots on the stove, she's looking frazzled, wiping her brow, over-voice/text says something along the lines of "Think a good meal means a lot of work?" then shows her cooking up a pasta dish thing from a steamer-bag or something from Lean Cuisine...yes, cooking on the stove is SO much work, instead you should eat sodium & preservative laden crap from a bag you got in a grocery store freezer...

UGH.

It's such a mystery why Americans are fat, lazy and full of medical problems...

AH ah!

I may be slacking with my blog, but I have not fallen behind in my cooking adventures, and even gone so far as to upgrade to actual stove work!

In this corner we have, homemade oatmeal!

with milk and honey! mmmm

and over here we have potatoes and chives!

made this with my sister just last night, store bought potatoes and scallions, from chives from my grandmothers garden ^_^

in other news, I have rediscovered a farmers market that is close by, since during the summer I was away on Tuesdays, and it's on the same day, and they're running until at least October 26th, if not later! :D so excited

in other, other news, I have two (fairly simple) things going on at the moment, freezing some grapes, and also made some banana pops, which basically means cutting a banana in half and then putting it on a popsicle stick in the freezer, I didn't have popsicle sticks, so I used some chopsticks...they look kind of silly, I also rolled two of them in honey (I am making 4) because I want to see which kind I like better ^_^

unfortunately I didn't think to do this until now, so who knows, by the time they are frozen it might not be disgustingly hot and humid out...

Salsa Success!

I have to say I am proud of myself. I actually got off my lazy butt and made the salsa! :D
After a long day of (mostly) sitting around, then going to the gym, etc. I was thinking "I am soooooo exhausted...maybe I will skip the salsa...::mumblemumblesomethinglame::" but then, instead, I told myself to look up the ingredients (as I still needed to go to the store, which, luckily, is about a 2 minute walk from my house) and I went and bought them, so then, of course I HAD to use them!
The chopping and dicing took a lot of time (like, I said, time consuming) and I was actually sure if I had bought a jalepeno, as the signs in the produce section weren't very well organized...but after one little nibble I know, definitely a jalepeno!
I used tomatoes and onion from my grandmothers garden. Garlic-scapes that she had bought, an orange pepper, cilantro, jalepeno, salt, pepper and a dash of lemon juice. Came out ok, maybe not as much cilantro next time, I don't have much any experience using it...though I also didn't measure anything, just kind of tossed it all together, so maybe tomorrow I will experiment more...cause it was good enough to try again!
ate it with tortilla chips with melted muenster cheese (the only other cheese besides goat cheese that I can eat safely)

Me & My Ambition

I will be embarking on a new project, as soon as I get home today and get to the grocery store.

I have been saying for the last few years that I would like to cook more(or just learn for starters...), as my culinary skills, to date, include; pasta with sauce, egg salad, soup, poached eggs...yeah, a lot of boiling, basically, not really cooking.

Despite my aversion to any real work in the kitchen I own a crazy amount of cookbooks, a few of which I actually purchased! Among them the title What to Eat When You Can't at Anything, that I found at a local earthy-crunch store.
I bought it because I have been there and done that, from lactose-intolerance to sensitivity to cooking oils (i.e. anything made in a restaurant....) my stomach is just a bitch. Have I used this aptly titled gem?
You guessed it, no.

I also have countless recipes pulled from magazines and the internet. I aspire to make these things, eat these things, actually cook something...but I have not, why?
Cooking is like a dog, or a child, I guess, it requires constant attention, encouragement, time, not that I don't think these things need all of this, they do, but I am usually lacking the attention and/or patience. I've walked away from a pot of soon-to-be-hardboiled-eggs and forgotten about them until I hear the sizzle of the water spilling over.

Well, what am I going to do?
I am tired of eating already-prepared food, and I'm sure it's not helping my stomach issues to boot.
So, today, when I get home, I am going to sit down and go through my pile of cookbooks and recipes and make a list, and on my free nights I am going to choose one recipe and make it. I say my free nights because I have work some nights and other such things, but with a goal and my will I am going to teach myself something, goddammit.

Tonight's endeavor is already found, and simple to start. Salsa Mexicana, not cooking per se, but it requires buying ingredients, preparing them, etc. Something I am not used to doing.

Wish me luck!

Facebook v.s. My mom

Recently my mom an I were discussing Facebook. The topic started with dilemma of when one should post a change in relationship status after a break-up and also the reaction and comments that might follow on that "status".
My mom just looked like at me like I was speaking a different language and shook her head, saying, "That concept is just too weird for me, I don't think I get it."

I have had a Facebook for about 5 or so years, my mother just got one a year ago, maybe? The concept of changing a relationship status, or something of that nature, and people commenting on it seemed very alien to her. I'm trying to wrap my mind around it because there was a time when I did not have a Facebook, so it's not that I would have found it strange, because I wouldn't have been presented with the situation in the first place.
Yet I suppose it is because Facebook, for the twenty-something, is a crucial part of the social life, whereas my mother set up her Facebook and left it, periodically checking it, but not really doing much. It is just something to look at, not something to communicate with all of her friends with.

Social networks are strange, overall. Speaking with a friend recently about the same issue we both confessed to hating Facebook, while at the same time being ridiculously attached to it. It's just so hard to stay feel connected without it, these days.

My mothers last word on the subject was "Well, I guess when I was your age my parents thought I did strange things that they didn't understand, like premarital sex..."

This is why my mom is awesome.

My tangents flow like a river

A lot of things running through my mind as of late.

In the forefront of my brain is something from my horoscope yesterday, that basically said I might not get everything done to my satisfaction that day, but in the process I would learn something about myself and what it is that makes me productive and motivates me.
Now, I'm not saying that my horoscope was right, I mostly use them as a guideline for the day, and they're just fun to read.
And, true, I didn't get everything done to my satisfaction yesterday, but even before yesterday I was thinking about what and how I like to do things. I used my horoscope as not a predictor but more of a a different perspective to look at.

What am I most successful with?

I like a creative challenge, especially if I am learning something new. I like organization, especially if it involves consolidating.

Let's take the organization aspect.

Some of the few little pleasures I have when I am working on a collage is trimming away edges, making things less and less, being able to throw away a pile of scraps, making my collection of magazines and images smaller and smaller. (it also feels gratifying knowing it is all recyclable) The same with writing letters, getting rid of cards and envelopes, stickers and stamps, etc.
Even coupons, more paper, I am not that miffed when I miss a deadline because that just means I can toss the expired ones and have less slippery pieces to deal with.

I would say "I think..." but in reality I KNOW this has got to be linked to the streak of hoarding that the woman in my family have, and my resistance against it, my constant feeling of being surrounded by clutter. Yet there are things I can't seem to throw away.
Especially with paper, dear god, so much paper.
Magazines and sketchbooks, journals and stationary, envelopes and post-cards, knitting and sewing patterns, old poetry, old stories, old drawings, old dreams. Stacks of memorabilia that I cannot do anything with without a scrapbook. Most of it from a time before I knew the importance of dating everything. My childhood and adolescence blurring into a murky soup of ages 7-15 "or around that time frame..."
I take some many photos to document, try and cut back on the actual physical items I collect, or of things I get rid of, but photos still take up space, either virtual or otherwise.
For the most part it is organized right now, I discovered the joy of plastic sleeves and binders, though at the moment they have become a catchall. Poems and writings that I will "look through later" all nice and neat in their spot, no real order though, less than half of those scraps have been dated. I am tempted to type them all up, though with that idea lurks the fear of endless doubles, my computer and external harddrive still in a jumbled mess of duplicates and extras. Another fear is the loss of the original copy, as I would want to toss all the paper once I had it all in text.
In the end, it will happen, it has to happen, I know I will forget about all the scraps of paper (I forget about them all the time and they exist all the time in my dining room) but it will be a slow process, cleaning out my computer, typing everything up, checking for duplicates, checking for edited copies, backing everything up, for no matter what form you have something in, it can be destroyed. Paper can burn, tear, mold, deteriorate, and computers are no better, hard-drives can crash, CD's can scratch, viruses...

Really, nothing is forever.


But, back to my original thought, that even I had forgotten in this rambling.
How I like to do things, what I like to do.
My biggest question: pursuing the field of expressive therapies? People and feelings aren't very easy to organize, and a new knitting or sewing project is usually something I adventure into on my own.
Is this really what I want to do?

That is all

Strange dream last night that included a girl I work with (who may move in with me) and Jason Webley, one of my favorite musicians. I don't remember much, but the potential roommate did something mean and Jason Webley was putting on a show at someones house and I was...doing something, I don't know...
I hate remembering dreams and knowing that the bits and pieces are floating their, just beyond my minds eye, so I have a feeling/notion about what went on, but I can't seem to grasp it enough to put it into words...

This feeling of looseness also ties into how I have been feeling that past few days. Kind of just loose, and lazy. Not getting enough sleep and then being exhausted when I get home from work, where I essentially sit at a desk for most of 8 hours...which is annoying because with so much lack of activity I want to jump around and work on all my projects once I am home, but then...I don't.
Fudge.

A friend of mine posted this beautiful video on her facebook, so I thought I would share. I watched it three times, and probably would again if I wasn't at work at the moment.
Also, this video I found on deviant art, it makes me jealous and want to rush home and break out the guitar I haven't touched in 4 years. Poor guitar, it must be so lonely.

Just Thoughts

Busy lately, trying very hard to clean my apartment and just have it in a state of organization where I am not constantly chasing after loose ends of this that or the other thing, other than daily/weekly things, i.e. trash, dishes, etc.

Have a few ideas bumping around my head about what to write, but not enough focus to write them atm, or to hold on to the ideas if I don't write them down immediately, so only a few have stuck around.

Just a few thoughts though, to tide me over at the moment.

Blueberry picking is like ADHD, every time you refocus there is another point of interest.

Every Tuesday is like mini vacation, going out to my grandparents, enjoying the woods, painting watercolors with my grandmother and other ladies at the center for aging (it is a community/activity center, not a nursing home, we drive there)

watching Judge Judy with my grandfather when we get home, my grandmother offering me bunch of food and tea

flowers, blueberries, fresh vegetables from the garden, just being in nature, glorious

even the insects have their charm, to a point, adding to the whole experience

what I would do if I could live at my grandparents house (and had the day off)

wake up early,

make tea or coffee and sit on the porch and watch the sky lighten over the neighbors farm,

let the dog out and walk around the orchard with her

pick some blueberries and flowers

bake some cookies

work on my watercolors

breathe

poem I wrote in my head on my out this past Tuesday, it is about my dog who lived with my grandparents, she passed away this winter:

every now and then

when I take this road

following the familiar twists and turns

surrounded by green

slight buzzing

cooler breezes

my heart jumps a beat

I anticipate my arrival

imagine the ritual

parking my car on the edge of the circle

behind me the screen door opens

smiling faces

a white blur leading the way,

bounding to my door

nosing my hands, always excited to see me

even when it was becoming painful to run

she still did

I snap back to reality

and realize this is past tense

when I arrive

the door may open

but there will always be one less to greet me

I still forget

Forgive my ramshackle reminiscing, it's been a long day

This past Saturday I went out to my dad's house for a cookout. The part started at noon but I didn't get there until 7pm. It wasn't until I arrived that I found that both my brother and sister had left hours beforehand and I was left to my own devices with my dad and his friends, oh and my uncle and aunt. Strangely enough I found myself getting along more with those who were over forty than the one couple there that hadn't hit 30 yet.
I had planned to only have one drink, maybe two, but I ended up with about 4 or 5 and having a blast chatting with a woman my dad works with. I also seem to get along with his neighbor from across the road, they hang out all the time and drink martinis. Man stuff.
Everyone was gone by 10:30 and my calorie count was ruined for the day.

Driving out there I got that familiar pang of home-sickness that I get every time I visit central Mass. It was even stronger that night because it had been scorchingly hot in the city during the day but by the time I was out in the woods it was twilight and balmy. I got off the highway and rolled my windows down, everything was blue and green, insects chirping...
I don't even know how to describe it other than, just, bliss.

It's funny because I didn't grow on a farm or anything like that but I can see the major differences between myself and those who grew up in suburbs and cities.
My boyfriend came to stay with me at my grandparents house once, which is almost as remote as my dads house, if you don't count the interstate nearby that is hardly used.
Keep in mind that this is where I grew up, this is what I am used to, and my boyfriend, while a born and bred city kid, was also a boy scout/eagle scout for 10+ years.
We were in the large guest room getting ready for bed and I started to turn the covers down and at the same time I said to him, "Oh yeah, if you find any dead lady-bugs or anything just flick them away..." which I myself then proceeded to do.
He stopped and just looked at me in awe and horror and asked "Why would there be dead lady-bugs in the bed??"
"Because we're in the woods. You were a boyscout, weren't you?!"
I guess tents and cabins are allowed to have bugs, but houses are not.

This entry has taken me forever to write, and it's very scattered, brain is mush, maybe tomorrow will be more coherent...

Conflicted, adventure-sick, Homebody in search of The Road Less Travelled

Having a good case of ADHD will lead to a lot of tangents, even while thinking.

I drove into the city this morning because I've trying to snag a free parking spot near school, and, finding no luck I got to work about 20 minutes early instead. I parked in a lot that has diagonal spots up against a fence. I figured since most of the construction workers were over near the buildings that I would be fine parking next to a big utility truck. Wrong. Only minutes later did another utility vehicle park on the other side of me and men in hard hats and bright yellow t-shirts were huddled by the back of my car. Sigh.

Since I had time to kill I ignored this, and hoped that they would go away at some point and allow me a chance to escape. Again, wrong. Mere seconds after all, but one, of the workmen were gone, that the remaining guy decided to use my rear-windshield as a clipboard...
Then more of them started to come back...
I wasn't really sure what to say or do at this point, but since my car was no longer being written on I decided to make my move and run for it. Guess they were oblivious to my presence, cause they all looked a little dumbfounded when I opened my door...

While I had been sitting there, though, growing more and more anxious, I thought of what I could do, open my door and, sarcastically, say "Can I help you?" to the guy using my rear-windshield? did he know I was there? did he care? should I care? I mean, if I wasn't in my car then I'd say, hell, use the hood!
I'm just going with the assumption that he had no idea I was in the car to begin with...

This got me thinking about what I've heard called "The New England Reserve" and how, compared to out West, in say, California, we here in New England have a very cold and isolated attitude towards others, whereas out West they are very open and welcoming to complete strangers.
Though, maybe it is just Mass, because an old friend of my grandparents visited the other day and he lived in Maine for a long time and was talking about how in Maine drivers are more relaxed and understanding when people are lost, taking a left-hand turn, driving...and how down here, well, we're not called Massholes for nothin'!

It makes me wonder if I wouldn't have been so nervous had I been raised in a different society, if I would have just opened my door and said "Hi" struck up a conversation with the guy. My mother probably would have, if being from New England v.s. Cali were different races my mother would be half and half I feel (though, she was born and bred in Mass) but her attitude on certain situations is completely different, where on the one hand she can be very cold and distant from strangers, she can also be very friendly and outgoing. I hid in my room when repair men came to our house, she was making coffee and asking about their life story...

Recently a friend of mine told me he's applying to schools out in California, Colorado, west-coast area, this made me a little jealous, and it also made me angry, not at him, but at myself.
When I was looking at graduate schools I applied to Naropa out in Boulder, CO. I applied, got an interview, went out there with my Gram, got accepted, and then turned the offer the down.
It was GORGEOUS out there, I loved it, it was fresh and new, and the traffic engineering was amazing. But, in the end the program really wasn't what I wanted, and I felt too many ties keeping me here on the east-coast. I also was lacking in support from certain people in my life, but that's a whole different story.
I kick myself for this choice regularly.

Even so, the reasons I stayed are still up front and center.
For starters, I've never lived anywhere but Mass, I have relatives all over the country, but the ones I care about the most are all here, and I wasn't sure I would be able to handle being so far away, especially if something were to happen.

I also wanted to jump right into grad-school, not give myself anytime to dilly-dally, and while Naropa did have an art therapy program (I had applied for their contemplative psych program) I would have to wait another year to apply cause it was past the deadline by then, so I applied here, I did the undergrad here so why not the grad-program? They had what I wanted anyway, which is rare, and it's not like I wouldn't get in, right?

I justified it all with saying even though I was still in this damn city, which I do love for the most part, that grad-school would be different, and it is, but, sometimes you need to do something drastic and crazy to kick-start the changes and goals you want in your life, and staying here has only nudged mine so far, which is a tease, poking at them as if saying "You can only get so far here! You stayed within your comfort zone, you took the easy way out!"

Everyone knows their own truths, the problem is us neurotics and our death-grip on repression...

Here is what I found on certain things in my dream, most of these had more to them, different things you could see/be doing (i.e. climbing up a ladder as opposed to down) so I took out the parts that weren't relevant to my dream.

Pregnant
To dream that you are pregnant, symbolizes an aspect of yourself or some aspect of your personal life that is growing and developing. You may not be ready to talk about it or act on it. Being pregnant in your dream may also represent the birth of a new idea, direction, project or goal. (on this point it is funny that I don't have more of these dreams as I am always coming up with new projects and goals to work on...)
Alternatively, if you are trying to get pregnant, then the dream may be a wish fulfillment. If you are not trying to get pregnant, but dream that you are, then it symbolizes fear of new responsibilities.

It then suggested I look at the word "Belly" (a term I hate, btw, but I was curious)

Belly
To see your belly in your dream, indicates that your are processing and integrating your ideas and feelings from the unconscious to the conscious level. The belly symbolically holds repressed emotions and unexpressed feelings. Your dream may also be telling you to trust your gut feeling and intuition.
(I hold a lot in my belly stomach, compounding dietary restrictions paired with anxiety...)

To see a pregnant belly, represents emotions that are due to come to the surface. They can no longer remain suppressed.

To dream that you are stroking or touching a belly, indicates that you are coming to terms with certain feelings. You are slowly confronting and acknowledging your repressed emotions.

Ladder
If you are climbing down a ladder, then it suggests that you are escaping from your spiritual responsibilities. It is an indication of future disappointments.

Trapdoor
To find or see a trapdoor in your dream, represents unexpected opportunities that will come your way. Don't be afraid to explore those opportunities. Alternatively, a trapdoor symbolizes discovery of something that you have repressed or stored in the unconscious.

Claustrophobia
To dream that you have claustrophobia, suggests feeling of self-guilt. You fear that you will be punished for your past's actions.

Climb
To dream that you are climbing down something, indicates that you need to acknowledge and take notice of your unconscious. You are expressing some hesitance and reservation with delving into your more negative feelings. Alternatively, it suggests that you may be feeling low or emotionally drained.


Overall most of the dream made sense to particular things/feelings/events going on in my life, so I had it pretty much figured out from the start, but it's always fun to at interpretations, doncha think?

On a side note I just remembered how once an ex-boyfriend had a very good theory on a dream I had. We had had a pregnancy scare and I had a dream where I was hiding a gun in my waist-band throughout the entire dream and at one point I was around my mother and desperately trying to keep it from her. His theory was the gun represented the "pregnancy" because he knew I was horrified of my mother ever finding out.

Dreams are such funny things.

To which I say, wow, Dream, could you make my fears MORE obvious?

Horrible dream last night, nerve-wracking, anxiety-attack ensuing. Ugh.
One of those dreams you think is real while you're in it, then completely forget upon waking up, only to become re-traumatized while stepping in the shower.
It only recall bits and pieces and I may update later once I have looked into the meanings of some things...From what I can remember of it...

At one point in the dream it occurred to me that I was pregnant. Someone, my mother or boyfriend, I think, mentioned it to me and I looked down and realized my stomach was sticking out a little and was firm. This was very frightening for me because IRL I have been trying to get back into a gym routine and have been worried about my weight, so this made the dream feel more real because my first thoughts were "But I thought it was just a few extra pounds from not going to the gym..." but then I was told/remembered that I had been pregnant for a few months.

At this point I tried to remember when it had happened and I realized that I had known for awhile, I guess? but I had been so busy so I kept putting it off and was going to "deal with it later" or something...I've done this with parking tickets and my 21 days comes and goes and I am in Wonderland, so undoubtedly I thought of this in my dream and started to FREAK THE FUCK OUT, trying to remember when it happened, calculating months, wondering if I was past the point of no return, I can't remember what the verdict was, at one point I thought I had calculated and found out I still had time, but at other points in the dream it seemed like I had no choice.

Also, during this part of the dream my mom and boyfriend were around, my mom was excited, which was strange, also there was another child or something that we were going to adopt? and my mom (or maybe my boyfriend) said something about how this was wonderful, and I would be great at taking care of them.
Meanwhile I am screaming in my head and watching all of my freedom go down the drain...

I then began to think of when I first adopted my cat (this is where the dream connected with reality) and how I adopted her because I love cats, but also because I was seeking some sort of responsibility I guess, even though these last 5 years have been liberating, as I was only really responsible for myself, and being the oldest of three I had grown up taking care of my younger siblings, so college was AMAZING, though the ties with my home-base are strong and even my cocky smart-ass brother will (for the most part) come to the rescue when needed, I am just a phone call away, after all...

Anyway, in my dream I thought of my cat and how after the first week of owning her I began to get a little anxious and worry if it was the right decision, how she tied me to my apartment (though that was a reason for getting her as well, since I hardly spent any time at my old place due to it's shit-holeyness...) and this new place is so nice, so I wanted it to feel like home, like a place I wanted to be in, and a cat builds on that...

Regardless I was panicking, in my dream, remembering the slight sense of trapped-ness after I adopted my cat, and how NOW it wasn't just going to be a slight feeling, it was going to be concrete and real and DOOM.

Ugh.

Other parts of my dream, which occurred later, and I was basically in a completely new dream, with no impending doom or babies, I was following my best friend around this house and there were all these trap doors to go through, we were looking for a room full of books, which is fitting for my darling, as she reads more than anyone I know, there was a trap door I had remembered going through before and I didn't want to use it again because it was very small and I always felt like I was going to get stuck, there was another door my friend said we should take and it was slightly bigger but there was a very frail ladder you had to go down and it was bending under our weight, when we reached the bottom it turned out we were in a thrift store (maybe the Goodwill? which I guess makes sense since we went there the other day IRL) but I started to panic again because I saw a pile of clothes on a table that were MY clothes and I realized they had found some of my clothes and were trying to sell them, they were also mostly things I had purchased in thrift stores...

I have had other pregnancy dreams as well as dreams where I have to fit through small space, and IRL I am not claustrophobic, but maybe I would be in the right situation?

Off to consult the internet on the meaning of dreams...more on this later...

The Convenience of the Tramp Stamp

I have been talking, planning and thinking about tattoos a lot lately.
I feel sometimes that I am a bit behind with this, as many of my close friends have already been inked. Eventually this is my plan as well, but I have held back for many reasons:

- tattoos are expensive, I like my money...
- on the note of money, I try to only buy things that are necessary
- the pain
- I already know WHAT I want, but WHERE do I want it?
- where can I put it that my family will never see? until maybe I am 35 with some kids and it doesn't matter anymore?
- I want to be in really good physical shape (if I'm going to be putting something artistic on my body forever I would like it to not be in an already saggy place)

These points being made I do have a goal to have my first tattoo at the end of the summer. It will be a very small tattoo, a design I made randomly my freshman year of college that just struck me as perfect. I was in horrible shape freshman year, though, physically and mentally. My highest weight of 177, which at the time didn't seem so bad, before I started working out.
I would like to be a healthy person and feel good about my body, feel comfortable with wearing shorts in public, etc. But I have not reached that point yet. My hope is to get into shape this summer, to feel good about wearing short shorts or a skimpy dress, I would like to, I like those styles, I just feel...gross.

My goal is also linked to staying in shape, for if I get a tattoo, or tattoos, then I will want to keep in shape to keep them looking nice. This all may sound very superficial, but in some ways it is, because our society is all about looks. That being said, though, I feel there is something to learn from this view. I don't believe everyone needs to be rail thin and starving, but I don't believe that obesity should be embraced as acceptable either. I know that in many cases it is not the fault of the person, but more of the society and cultural view, and also social class comes into play, the less money you have the less healthy food you can "afford" (maybe someday I will do a rant on the cost of cigarettes, beer and lottery tickets among the low-income, but for now, just mull over it)

Anyway,
now I would like to discuss tattoo placement.
I once worked with a woman who had all her tattoos on the backs of her body, she had a tramp stamp, a tattoo above each elbow and I was around when she was getting a great tattoo of a tree on her back and shoulders. She was very specific that the tree branches couldn't wrap around her shoulders so as not to be seen if viewing her from the front. Her reasoning was that if she ever got married she wanted to have wedding pictures where no tattoos could be seen on the front of her for her father. Her father KNEW she had tattoos, and she was probably going to have a backless wedding dress, but having the choice to look "presentable" was still there.

So, in my search for the perfect tattoo location I have thought about why the lower back is so popular. That is probably the reason, it is the most easily hidden, it is also a very nice, flat, least-likely-to-stretch spot. Yet I am very opposed to using it because of it's trampy-stampyness. Though, because I am silly, I always thought it would be funny to get a scene of a sunset right there...

I have been contemplating telling my mother beforehand, just so I can (possibly?) avoid a freak-out later on if she ever saw them...but I am still undecided. It's not like I am thinking "Ask for forgiveness later instead of permission now." Why? Because I know what her opinion is, tattoos = bad. So I wouldn't be asking permission more than just telling her...because I would get them either way, my other issue with telling my mom is then my sister will probably know, and if she knows then EVERYONE will know, and I will get shit for it from all angles, because the only people with tattoos, that I know of, are my uncle and my cousin (on my dads side) and my great-grandmother on that side didn't have any, but she LOVED them, unfortunately she is no longer with us, so she can not be there to appreciate them and shush everyone else...
She used to ask my uncle (dads younger brother) to show off his tattoos on Thanksgiving, and talk about how beautiful they were and then say that she always wanted to have one of a clover right below her collar bone, but that is she had it would be a tree by now (she was 85)

My brother and I have an agreement to tell each other when we get them because we are both planning to, and that's what so great about my brother, although we see each other rarely, we do get along, and have a lot in common, have a lot of the same worldviews, etc. Though are most common interests are cats, eating healthy (no soda and fast food, which is an everyday thing back home...) and tattoos. So at least I know I can tell someone, well and my uncle and cousin, but I only see them on holidays...and my cousin has a very trampy tramp stamp of a HUGE black and purple butterfly...and a rose, on the back of her neck...very meaningful, I'm sure.

My grandparents would probably never know...as I don't know how they would react, and I would be afraid my grandmother would have a grudge against me forever...even though of the 6-7 ideas I have 3 of them are for her (flowers, hummingbird and a mushroom, all things that she loves) and also one for my great-grandmother (an owl, and maybe a clover now that I think of it)

I think that is all for today.

This started as just a nostalgic ramble...

There always seems to be this running conflict, for me at least, between the new and the used.
Let me explain.
I enjoyed my old apartment, to a point. It had this charm, it was rundown, but comfy, something I would expect a poor 20-something grad-student to live in. Cheap, friendly, all that jazz. In the end though, it was too rundown, the landlord just too slummy.
My new apartment is, well, just that, new. I like it, everything works, I have a fan in my bathroom, the paint isn't peeling from steam. I feel like an adult.

Yet, just the other day I visited a friend, her apartment reminded me of my old place, though a lot less crumbly. It still has this appeal, the bohemian style. Mismatched furniture, cramped kitchens and bathrooms, the smell of patchouli and burritos, the possibility for adventure.

Now, to make a long story longer, as I am incapable of "short and sweet", what brought this on was looking for free stuff on craigslist. I am practically addicted to their free stuff page. I don't find much, but the few things I have are pretty nice.
I saw a lawn chair. Just a basic lawn chair, the kind you would remember from the late 80's early 90's in your uncles backyard at a cookout. Metal-framed with that rubbery translucent plastic for seating, in a bright teal green.
It made me think of humid summer nights, lounging in those chairs, the plastic sticking to your skin. Only fast-forward, it is the present, I could be hanging out with friends, drinking a few beers, kicking off my sandals into the grass.
Even with my new home, my new place in the world, I am still attracted to this theme of second-hand, simple junk, nothing expensive or flashy, but functional, "good enough".
I don't want to drop hundreds of dollars on brand-new all-matching furniture, just so it will "look nice". I enjoy the thrill of the bargain hunt, the charm of mismatched things, low expectations, low maintenance attitude.

Yet, I am still picky. There are some things that are just too tacky, too cheap. Things I do not want to support to source of, like the army of ceramic insert-cliche-inspirational-saying-here angels at the dollar store. I can't buy it, in more ways than one. It's the JUNK that gets to me, the junk people fill their lives with.
I am the first to admit that I have a lot of things, it amazes me how I once fit it all into one room, since now I have filled a whole apartment with the same belongings.
I feel, though, that I can justify my things. Right now I am busy collecting furniture, free furniture, because why buy something that everyone is dying to get rid of? There are a few things I would spend good money on, like a GOOD plunger, and a heavy-duty can-opener, but then again, I am all about practicality, in some regards.
Back to the matter at hand, furniture is practical, asking for a vacuum cleaner as an xmas gift is practical (and also makes me a huge dork...) and all my other stuff? If it isn't a household appliance or clothing then it is knick-nacks from my childhood and art materials.
This is my saving grace in not feeling like I am a huge hypocrite when it comes to junk. The majority of all the "crap" I have has the potential for being used to create new things, not just to sit around and do nothing.
Of course the conundrum of being a creative person means you will ALWAYS have a bunch of stuff, because if it's not material to create then it is all the creations you have made and cannot part with...
It is not just a random assortment of crap that makes me "look" eccentric, I don't buy things just to buy them, I hate that. Almost 100% the time I don't even buy this stuff, it is just a back-log of everything I ever collected from life, my grandmother, people getting rid of things.

My point being, people still BUY this shit, they still go out and buy brand new furniture, decorations, little fanciful things from home-goods to put on a shelf, whole new sets of stuff that all having a matching color theme. How long until they get bored and get the push from all those magazine covers to redo everything? Spend a shit-ton cause everything NEEDS to match.

I hate consumerism, I can rant on and on, but it's been done, I am not alone in this.
Yet sometimes it feels like we are, doesn't it?

Oh, the honeymoon.

It's something like watching a movie when you get caught walking behind a couple, and you can tell they are very, very new. Or perhaps friends who are becoming more.
Happened to me today, they held hand for about two seconds, then were crossing a street, so they let go. The rest of the time their hands and arms seemed to twitch nervously, the occasional, accidental, bump into the other person.
Makes me want to jump of my skin, in a good and bad way

You don't feel obligation towards the idiot box

It has been a while since I actually used a live journal blog on a regular basis. That being said my mind is drawing a blank for this first post.
Over the weekend my mind was racing with ideas, topics, reflections, rants.
I was at home, though, visiting at my moms' house. I hadn't brought my laptop the internet there was being kind of flaky and to top it all off my sisters computers are both slow as all hell and the keys are all broken.
On the one hand, this meant I could not do much on the internet, let alone post in a blog. On the other it gave me a refreshing break from the constant communication that I have come to depend on.
Also my phone was running out of battery, so I had it turned off for most of the time.
Bliss.
Truth be told I am somewhat of an email addict, it's usually idly waiting in the background of my tabs, taunting me with emptiness or junk mail...
Cold turkey was easy to deal with when there was a TV around though. Marathons of NCIS and Law&Order, my mother and I sharing chips and salsa, partners in lazy-crime.
It was nice.