learn French
get shit together
integrate--exercise--quiet time--daily maintenance stuff--art--into daily life
sing fearlessly
learn to crochet
swim through a reef
through a lagoon
in hot springs
in warm springs
in the mountains
in the ocean
explore tide pools
parasail
kite surf (because it's the closest thing I can think of to the sport mentioned at the bottom of this post)
get a grad degree...?
get a dslr...take amazing pictures...make huge prints and hang them places
participate in the creation of a dream home.
stop fearing the future
believe.
Showing posts with label weird dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weird dreams. Show all posts
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Beliefs and wishes
It occurs to me that I mentioned Mark a while back, and then never closed out or continued that story. I think he's awesome. I think that he thinks that I am awesome. I kind of wish that we were soulmates, but instead we seem to be two quite similar people who are not attracted to one another. Shit happens, I guess. Though it can be difficult to find a different rhythm with the same person, I hope that we'll end up as friends.
The weather is seesawing between seasons, but I know it'll truly get to fall eventually. Sometimes the lines of brake lights look to me like angry red sores on the skin of the world. Leaving aside thoughts of practicality for the moment, a part of me just wishes we walked everywhere.
I've been reading another Charles DeLint book, which is full of magic. And I'm not sure how I feel about this, but regardless of how I feel about it, part of be believes these things. Fiction. People think I read fantasy because I like fantasy, but really, that's what science fiction is for. That's all entirely made up. It's about technology that doesn't and probably can't exist. Obviously fantasy is arguably also entirely made up, but a lot of it (and the sort I'm most drawn to lately) is based on cross-cultural myth, and it pulls me in. Often I read fantasy because on some level, I believe in magic. Not Criss Angel, not rabbits-from-hats magic, but the kind of magic that lets us sometimes dream the future. The kind of magic that put a stone in my hand while I was sleeping as a child. The kind of magic that can allow us to affect one another across vast distances, or encourage plants to grow taller with our thoughts or voices. I have stumbled into it before, but not for fifteen years or more. I hope to stumble into it again. And maybe "magic" is a misnomer. Who was it that said that magic is just science we haven't discovered yet? But whatever it is, even if it isn't unquantifiable, it is unquantified. So I call it what I will.
The weather is seesawing between seasons, but I know it'll truly get to fall eventually. Sometimes the lines of brake lights look to me like angry red sores on the skin of the world. Leaving aside thoughts of practicality for the moment, a part of me just wishes we walked everywhere.
I've been reading another Charles DeLint book, which is full of magic. And I'm not sure how I feel about this, but regardless of how I feel about it, part of be believes these things. Fiction. People think I read fantasy because I like fantasy, but really, that's what science fiction is for. That's all entirely made up. It's about technology that doesn't and probably can't exist. Obviously fantasy is arguably also entirely made up, but a lot of it (and the sort I'm most drawn to lately) is based on cross-cultural myth, and it pulls me in. Often I read fantasy because on some level, I believe in magic. Not Criss Angel, not rabbits-from-hats magic, but the kind of magic that lets us sometimes dream the future. The kind of magic that put a stone in my hand while I was sleeping as a child. The kind of magic that can allow us to affect one another across vast distances, or encourage plants to grow taller with our thoughts or voices. I have stumbled into it before, but not for fifteen years or more. I hope to stumble into it again. And maybe "magic" is a misnomer. Who was it that said that magic is just science we haven't discovered yet? But whatever it is, even if it isn't unquantifiable, it is unquantified. So I call it what I will.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Daydreaming, and also the relatively near cosmos.
Kelly just posted this on my facebook wall, which prompted yet another (visibly escalating) brainstorming/daydreaming session about the greatest, most awesome, most utterly childish and wonderful house ever, which was recorded thus in my comments on her post:
-Dibs. I wish they'd shown more of the house though than the slide and the bookshelves. I mean those are awesome things. I'm just saying. Five (out of nine) slide pictures seems a little excessive.
-My slide would have more colors.
And maybe a water feature.
-Facebook just reloaded in the middle of the best house description ever. I will kill it.
Now I have to retype the whole thing! Please stand by.
-...Also, the floor of the "courtyard" would be a trampoline. And there would be a rooftop garden. And a fireman's pole. And a room made entirely of mattresses. And the hallway of bookcases (ZOMG) would include a reading nook. And windows all along one wall. Also, there would be a double (treble?) wrap-around porch. And there would be a shower-bathroom like the one at my cousin's house, where the whole bathroom is also a shower. And there would be a hot tub someplace. Probably in a corner of the rooftop garden. Also, hammocks aplenty. Hammocks for all! All the times! Different types of hammocks, even, with different colors and some with tassels. Possibly the floor(s?) would be painted with the yellow brick road. That is undecided. Also there should be a bathroom with enough plants in it that when you shower it is like showering outdoors in a jungle. Possibly this could be accomplished by the installation of a shower amidst the greenery of the rooftop garden, but clearly that would be seasonal. Additionally, there could be a swinging rope bridge going from one of the porches across the yard into the most epic fabulous tree house of all time ever. I would consider the installation of a moat, only probably not crocodile-infested. Duck-infested, maybe.
[end quotes.]
It's fun to get carried away with absurd dream-home dreams. Don't judge me.
On another note, it seems that they have found (or believe that they may have found) another planet in our solar system. Once you get that far out, of course, you're using the term "solar system" fairly loosely. It is in our solar system because it orbits our sun. From a long, long, long way away. Anyway, apparently rumors of this planet have been circulating for some time. There was evidence that was debunked (irregularities in Neptune's orbit), and now there is more possible evidence that is being analyzed. So we'll see. What gets me though is that this "ninth" planet is going to be called Tyche if, indeed, it exists. I know I'm being unreasonable, but I want them to call it Pluto.
There are, at the very least, three reasons that that is a stupid idea. I know this. You do not have to argue the point.
Here is the dictionary.com article on the name "Tyche," and (ish) on the planet. The comments are especially good. I particularly liked "is it safe for astronauts to go there?" The state of our educational system... it's just not very good. In case anyone is unclear about the distances of things in our solar system, here is some information for you. Light travels at approximately 186,282 miles per second. It takes the light from the sun eight minutes to reach the surface of the earth. By contrast, it takes the light of the sun between four and seven hours to reach Pluto, depending on its location in its orbit. Tyche, if such a planet exists, would be significantly further still from the sun even than Pluto. Considering that our astronauts have never even been to Mars, the question of whether they would be safe on Tyche is a moot point. And anyway, the answer is no. Tyche is/would be a gas giant with roughly 4x the mass of Jupiter. Any astronauts would be crushed rather quickly.
For reference, here is the NASA article on Tyche.
-Dibs. I wish they'd shown more of the house though than the slide and the bookshelves. I mean those are awesome things. I'm just saying. Five (out of nine) slide pictures seems a little excessive.
-My slide would have more colors.
And maybe a water feature.
-Facebook just reloaded in the middle of the best house description ever. I will kill it.
Now I have to retype the whole thing! Please stand by.
-...Also, the floor of the "courtyard" would be a trampoline. And there would be a rooftop garden. And a fireman's pole. And a room made entirely of mattresses. And the hallway of bookcases (ZOMG) would include a reading nook. And windows all along one wall. Also, there would be a double (treble?) wrap-around porch. And there would be a shower-bathroom like the one at my cousin's house, where the whole bathroom is also a shower. And there would be a hot tub someplace. Probably in a corner of the rooftop garden. Also, hammocks aplenty. Hammocks for all! All the times! Different types of hammocks, even, with different colors and some with tassels. Possibly the floor(s?) would be painted with the yellow brick road. That is undecided. Also there should be a bathroom with enough plants in it that when you shower it is like showering outdoors in a jungle. Possibly this could be accomplished by the installation of a shower amidst the greenery of the rooftop garden, but clearly that would be seasonal. Additionally, there could be a swinging rope bridge going from one of the porches across the yard into the most epic fabulous tree house of all time ever. I would consider the installation of a moat, only probably not crocodile-infested. Duck-infested, maybe.
[end quotes.]
It's fun to get carried away with absurd dream-home dreams. Don't judge me.
On another note, it seems that they have found (or believe that they may have found) another planet in our solar system. Once you get that far out, of course, you're using the term "solar system" fairly loosely. It is in our solar system because it orbits our sun. From a long, long, long way away. Anyway, apparently rumors of this planet have been circulating for some time. There was evidence that was debunked (irregularities in Neptune's orbit), and now there is more possible evidence that is being analyzed. So we'll see. What gets me though is that this "ninth" planet is going to be called Tyche if, indeed, it exists. I know I'm being unreasonable, but I want them to call it Pluto.
There are, at the very least, three reasons that that is a stupid idea. I know this. You do not have to argue the point.
Here is the dictionary.com article on the name "Tyche," and (ish) on the planet. The comments are especially good. I particularly liked "is it safe for astronauts to go there?" The state of our educational system... it's just not very good. In case anyone is unclear about the distances of things in our solar system, here is some information for you. Light travels at approximately 186,282 miles per second. It takes the light from the sun eight minutes to reach the surface of the earth. By contrast, it takes the light of the sun between four and seven hours to reach Pluto, depending on its location in its orbit. Tyche, if such a planet exists, would be significantly further still from the sun even than Pluto. Considering that our astronauts have never even been to Mars, the question of whether they would be safe on Tyche is a moot point. And anyway, the answer is no. Tyche is/would be a gas giant with roughly 4x the mass of Jupiter. Any astronauts would be crushed rather quickly.
For reference, here is the NASA article on Tyche.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
The State of My Subconscious Address.
Obama's address made me want to cry at a few points. In a good way. Being fairly uneducated when it comes to matters of politics, I am a little suspicious of any politician and always slightly worried that I'm being taken for a fool. Even so, I am one of those that tend to find Obama's addresses pretty inspiring. I was reminded of the "Fireside Talks" of the Roosevelt era. I like that we have a president who is encouraging us to unite as a country and appreciate what we have and who we are and what we stand for, and I like that we have a president who is, as far as I can tell, trying to get congress to cut the crap. For example: I know there are differences of opinion about earmarks, but I think that they're a terrible idea. For one thing, they allow candidates to run misleading negative ads about each other, because that bill that cut spending to schools might have also included tighter gun controls. I don't like that congressmen and -women are always having to choose the lesser of two evils, and prioritize the importance of all the issues in a bill. Even if it takes more time, I think that as much as possible, each issue should get a separate vote.
As a separate note, a staunch Republican (one who said in the comments on her own status message regarding Obama's address, "I can't like him and I think he is very bad for this country,") just "liked" my current facebook status: "No more earmarks? Living within our means? Making rich people pay taxes? THIS IS CRAZY TALK." I guess maybe my sarcasm wasn't loud enough. Just goes to show that, as they say, body language and vocal tone are the better part of communication.
On another note, it was overcast last night. Sometimes when I go walk Miley on nights like that, I tuck my chin and let my eyes droop and shuffle through, and see nothing. Sometimes instead I pay more attention to the things around me. I hear the way the roof of cloud holds in the sounds of the city, and listen to the jet in the distance and the cars on nearby streets, and hear every crunching leaf, and every jingle of Miley's collar. I look up and see the intricate pattern the fingers of the trees make against the sky, and notice the thin places in the cloud cover, where the sky looks as though it were sponge painted by the mighty and invisible hand of God. I gaze up at the single star shining through, and I turn the corner toward home.
For the last two or three nights (or maybe the last two before last night), the moon has looked as though, in crossing above the horizon, it rose through a deep pool of honey*. The honey color fell away as it rose higher into the night. Fell back into the sea beyond the end of the world, I guess.
I realized this evening that, living in a house, it is easy to forget the sound of a rain in a wood. It is a wonderful noise, and it is different from the sound of rain in a city or rain on a roof, and as it is also different from the sound of rain on an umbrella, an umbrella ruins it. It is a more dimensional, delicate, full sound than those, and if you are lucky enough to stand next to a creek during a gentle rain, you'll hear (or I hope you'll hear) a sweeter sound there, too. The creek might have swollen just a little, and the drops of rain landing on the water add still another element to the sweeping, rushing, happy gurgle of the stream.
Relatedly, I have remembered something I wanted to say earlier today: my absolutely most favorite sport ever in the whole world by far is umbrella jumping. I am reasonably certain that this doesn't exist, partially because umbrellas aren't usually built very well and largely because it almost certainly breaks some laws of physics (or at least meteorology on Earth), but every once in a while I get lucky enough to do it in my dreams. This happened last night, and let me tell you, it is so awesome. You get your (well made) umbrella and you wait for a really kick-ass wind or rain or thunder storm**, and you open your umbrella, and you go for a run. And you jump off things. And you jump over things or just up into the air and catch the lift of the wind with your umbrella like a kite. And you contort yourself to make it over things or just for fun, and you push off the sides of buildings and fling yourself from rooftops and laugh and spin and do acrobatics with the wind and rain in your face.*** If I get to design my own little corner of heaven (and God, I hope I do), it may mostly be like this.
*I remember the very first time I saw a moon like this. I was very young, younger than five I think, and I was sitting on a plastic tricycle on the sidewalk in front of a relative's house in North Carolina. Within five minutes of seeing the moon (I can't remember whether it was before or after), I skinned my toe on the concrete. I never did like shoes very much. Anyway, I had heard the term "honeymoon" and not known the meaning, and as soon as I saw the honey-colored moon I connected the two. For years I tried to reconcile the "post-wedding" aspect of a honeymoon with the moon I had seen. Were people only allowed to get married on the day preceding a honey moon? Did a honey moon happen after people's weddings? How did it know? And which people got one? Obviously it didn't happen after every wedding. Did those people not get honey moons, or was there some kind of fake one? That didn't seem fair. How were the lucky ones chosen?
It was a long time before I gave up on this doomed line of reasoning, and longer still before I found out that the honey color was and is caused by the moon reflecting the light of a sunset in some faraway land.
**If you aren't touching the ground, you don't conduct the electricity. So there.
***And then you go make out with a famous rap artist whose name you won't be able to remember the next morning. That last part is really a shame, too, because you're supposed to go on tour with him next week.
As a separate note, a staunch Republican (one who said in the comments on her own status message regarding Obama's address, "I can't like him and I think he is very bad for this country,") just "liked" my current facebook status: "No more earmarks? Living within our means? Making rich people pay taxes? THIS IS CRAZY TALK." I guess maybe my sarcasm wasn't loud enough. Just goes to show that, as they say, body language and vocal tone are the better part of communication.
On another note, it was overcast last night. Sometimes when I go walk Miley on nights like that, I tuck my chin and let my eyes droop and shuffle through, and see nothing. Sometimes instead I pay more attention to the things around me. I hear the way the roof of cloud holds in the sounds of the city, and listen to the jet in the distance and the cars on nearby streets, and hear every crunching leaf, and every jingle of Miley's collar. I look up and see the intricate pattern the fingers of the trees make against the sky, and notice the thin places in the cloud cover, where the sky looks as though it were sponge painted by the mighty and invisible hand of God. I gaze up at the single star shining through, and I turn the corner toward home.
For the last two or three nights (or maybe the last two before last night), the moon has looked as though, in crossing above the horizon, it rose through a deep pool of honey*. The honey color fell away as it rose higher into the night. Fell back into the sea beyond the end of the world, I guess.
I realized this evening that, living in a house, it is easy to forget the sound of a rain in a wood. It is a wonderful noise, and it is different from the sound of rain in a city or rain on a roof, and as it is also different from the sound of rain on an umbrella, an umbrella ruins it. It is a more dimensional, delicate, full sound than those, and if you are lucky enough to stand next to a creek during a gentle rain, you'll hear (or I hope you'll hear) a sweeter sound there, too. The creek might have swollen just a little, and the drops of rain landing on the water add still another element to the sweeping, rushing, happy gurgle of the stream.
Relatedly, I have remembered something I wanted to say earlier today: my absolutely most favorite sport ever in the whole world by far is umbrella jumping. I am reasonably certain that this doesn't exist, partially because umbrellas aren't usually built very well and largely because it almost certainly breaks some laws of physics (or at least meteorology on Earth), but every once in a while I get lucky enough to do it in my dreams. This happened last night, and let me tell you, it is so awesome. You get your (well made) umbrella and you wait for a really kick-ass wind or rain or thunder storm**, and you open your umbrella, and you go for a run. And you jump off things. And you jump over things or just up into the air and catch the lift of the wind with your umbrella like a kite. And you contort yourself to make it over things or just for fun, and you push off the sides of buildings and fling yourself from rooftops and laugh and spin and do acrobatics with the wind and rain in your face.*** If I get to design my own little corner of heaven (and God, I hope I do), it may mostly be like this.
*I remember the very first time I saw a moon like this. I was very young, younger than five I think, and I was sitting on a plastic tricycle on the sidewalk in front of a relative's house in North Carolina. Within five minutes of seeing the moon (I can't remember whether it was before or after), I skinned my toe on the concrete. I never did like shoes very much. Anyway, I had heard the term "honeymoon" and not known the meaning, and as soon as I saw the honey-colored moon I connected the two. For years I tried to reconcile the "post-wedding" aspect of a honeymoon with the moon I had seen. Were people only allowed to get married on the day preceding a honey moon? Did a honey moon happen after people's weddings? How did it know? And which people got one? Obviously it didn't happen after every wedding. Did those people not get honey moons, or was there some kind of fake one? That didn't seem fair. How were the lucky ones chosen?
It was a long time before I gave up on this doomed line of reasoning, and longer still before I found out that the honey color was and is caused by the moon reflecting the light of a sunset in some faraway land.
**If you aren't touching the ground, you don't conduct the electricity. So there.
***And then you go make out with a famous rap artist whose name you won't be able to remember the next morning. That last part is really a shame, too, because you're supposed to go on tour with him next week.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
The unexplained.
I need some kind of miracle. I'm not even choosy. Maybe I am choosy.
(The above written yesterday.)
I had a dream about David last night. There were other dreams which have gently faded, but I liked them. The one about David was the second of three.. I think, it seems like he came walking toward me down a dry streambed--I mean really dry, dusty--and was coming from uphill. I guess he had decided to abandon this idea or experiment or decision of moving apart from one another. There was one long soft slow kiss, and then we moved off together into the next dream, which I can't quite remember. I think I remember us standing in a large room and talking to someone who was chained, maybe, or somehow imprisoned, but that's all I can grasp now. I should have written it down earlier. They were good dreams.
Speaking of dreams, I have been almost obsessed over the past few days with one from my childhood that I think I mentioned the other day. I don't know how old I was, but not very. Maybe six? I had my own room, the room I live in now, and I think I had the bunk bed--so maybe more like eight or nine. I woke up on the bottom bunk, so it must have been before I shared a room with Chloe. I remember bits of two related dreams that night: In the first, the back yard of this house was a pastel-colored jungle filled with soft greens and huge flowers. The space under the back porch was larger than in reality, and there were two tigers underneath it. I don't remember whether I was initially afraid of them or not, but one came forward and spoke to me--possibly they both spoke--and gave me a tiger's eye stone. Maybe the one behind suggested the gift? I'm not sure. I almost desperately wish I could remember what they said, or what it said, but I don't have a clue.
In the next dream I was walking down the left side of my own street, below my house, nearing the corner. Maybe ten feet before the corner I bent down and picked up a tiger's eye stone, the same one, and that's the last I remember before waking up. When I woke, the stone was in my hand. It is in my hand now. I didn't recognize it and took it to my parents asking whether they had given it to me, but neither of them recognized it either. I have no idea where it came from or how it ended up in my hand, and I hadn't thought about it in a long time, but now my curiosity has been fully reawakened. At this point, I'm not sure what to do with it. I've just been making a mental list of the strange, inexplicable things that happened to me as a child, not that there are a great many, and quietly wondering whether I'm being ridiculous.
(The above written yesterday.)
I had a dream about David last night. There were other dreams which have gently faded, but I liked them. The one about David was the second of three.. I think, it seems like he came walking toward me down a dry streambed--I mean really dry, dusty--and was coming from uphill. I guess he had decided to abandon this idea or experiment or decision of moving apart from one another. There was one long soft slow kiss, and then we moved off together into the next dream, which I can't quite remember. I think I remember us standing in a large room and talking to someone who was chained, maybe, or somehow imprisoned, but that's all I can grasp now. I should have written it down earlier. They were good dreams.
Speaking of dreams, I have been almost obsessed over the past few days with one from my childhood that I think I mentioned the other day. I don't know how old I was, but not very. Maybe six? I had my own room, the room I live in now, and I think I had the bunk bed--so maybe more like eight or nine. I woke up on the bottom bunk, so it must have been before I shared a room with Chloe. I remember bits of two related dreams that night: In the first, the back yard of this house was a pastel-colored jungle filled with soft greens and huge flowers. The space under the back porch was larger than in reality, and there were two tigers underneath it. I don't remember whether I was initially afraid of them or not, but one came forward and spoke to me--possibly they both spoke--and gave me a tiger's eye stone. Maybe the one behind suggested the gift? I'm not sure. I almost desperately wish I could remember what they said, or what it said, but I don't have a clue.
In the next dream I was walking down the left side of my own street, below my house, nearing the corner. Maybe ten feet before the corner I bent down and picked up a tiger's eye stone, the same one, and that's the last I remember before waking up. When I woke, the stone was in my hand. It is in my hand now. I didn't recognize it and took it to my parents asking whether they had given it to me, but neither of them recognized it either. I have no idea where it came from or how it ended up in my hand, and I hadn't thought about it in a long time, but now my curiosity has been fully reawakened. At this point, I'm not sure what to do with it. I've just been making a mental list of the strange, inexplicable things that happened to me as a child, not that there are a great many, and quietly wondering whether I'm being ridiculous.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Well,
I suppose trying to be fully present here at Camp ends up meaning that I'm largely absent from the cyberspace world. I guess that's okay, but I'm sorry if anyone finds it frustrating.
What did I last say? Something about the library? Whatever. The older boys' session is usually my favorite, and though I can't really call it "favorite" before working any other sessions this year, it's been pretty good. We have a lot of guys up for CiT (counselor-in-training, special leadership-type program), which is great. I might have to see if I can be one of the cit counselors next year. I am too tired right now to worry about capitalization.
The 'High Adventure' camping/tubing trip had a lot of good points, but will hopefully be improved with better planning for next time. And as I said, it was exhausting. I am exhausted. Also, I jumped awake at 3:45 this morning and thought we were still on the river, all spread out and trying to sleep. I was getting so angry about it, too--"this is why we have to find campsites in advance! This is why we need to keep the kids together!" Stress dreams. Fantastic. Eventually, thankfully, I realized that I was awake and in my bed in the staff shack. That doesn't always happen, so I'm glad it did. I had crazy dreams all night though.
Yesterday pretty much sucked. But then, parts of yesterday were really nice, so it's difficult to generalize much. Getting everyone and everything together, two groups sharing one campsite and not enough vehicles, was pretty hectic and confusing and stressful. Then when we got back, everyone scattered, and I was (or felt that I was) blamed. And I was livid. I mean livid. I stomped around. I threw my water bottle in front of a camper. I yelled at people. Eventually I had to hide in the craft shack and sort beads, in hopes that this would help me calm down, and I ended up sobbing hysterically. I think perhaps this had been building up for a while. And it wasn't just that I felt like I was unjustly blamed for everyone's kids running everywhere. (By the way, I was put in charge of this trip, and I have never been in charge of a camping trip with kids before.) It was also that, for some reason, the past two days have been increasingly bad in terms of missing David. And then Victoria, trying to help me feel better, told me that he missed me too, and that's about when I started crying hysterically. Good. Good. Good times. Thanks.
But since I couldn't bring myself to go to dinner, Charity had me drafted to help her drive back out to Lake Moomaw to pick up the canoe trailer, as it is missing a hitch pin and she wanted help in case it came unhitched. Again. (She substituted an open padlock, which held pretty well.) Also we both were at the ends of our respective ropes and needed to get the hell out of camp. It was really nice. As it turned out, pretty much all the canoe tie-downs needed to be retied, so it was good that both of us were there. That lake is so beautiful, and so is the drive. It was a really nice little break.
Tomorrow, obviously, is the fourth. I'm supposed to go down to the beach to meet Sara & co, but I may have to postpone it a day to sleep and wait out traffic. The question is, what do I do for the fourth if I'm not driving six hours to Nags Head? There's always the option of staying here and watching the fireworks in Millboro, or I could drive home and attend the "America's Goddamn Birthday" party being thrown by some guys I knew in college. That would break up the drive, which would be nice, but I'd also probably be up late. Hm.
What did I last say? Something about the library? Whatever. The older boys' session is usually my favorite, and though I can't really call it "favorite" before working any other sessions this year, it's been pretty good. We have a lot of guys up for CiT (counselor-in-training, special leadership-type program), which is great. I might have to see if I can be one of the cit counselors next year. I am too tired right now to worry about capitalization.
The 'High Adventure' camping/tubing trip had a lot of good points, but will hopefully be improved with better planning for next time. And as I said, it was exhausting. I am exhausted. Also, I jumped awake at 3:45 this morning and thought we were still on the river, all spread out and trying to sleep. I was getting so angry about it, too--"this is why we have to find campsites in advance! This is why we need to keep the kids together!" Stress dreams. Fantastic. Eventually, thankfully, I realized that I was awake and in my bed in the staff shack. That doesn't always happen, so I'm glad it did. I had crazy dreams all night though.
Yesterday pretty much sucked. But then, parts of yesterday were really nice, so it's difficult to generalize much. Getting everyone and everything together, two groups sharing one campsite and not enough vehicles, was pretty hectic and confusing and stressful. Then when we got back, everyone scattered, and I was (or felt that I was) blamed. And I was livid. I mean livid. I stomped around. I threw my water bottle in front of a camper. I yelled at people. Eventually I had to hide in the craft shack and sort beads, in hopes that this would help me calm down, and I ended up sobbing hysterically. I think perhaps this had been building up for a while. And it wasn't just that I felt like I was unjustly blamed for everyone's kids running everywhere. (By the way, I was put in charge of this trip, and I have never been in charge of a camping trip with kids before.) It was also that, for some reason, the past two days have been increasingly bad in terms of missing David. And then Victoria, trying to help me feel better, told me that he missed me too, and that's about when I started crying hysterically. Good. Good. Good times. Thanks.
But since I couldn't bring myself to go to dinner, Charity had me drafted to help her drive back out to Lake Moomaw to pick up the canoe trailer, as it is missing a hitch pin and she wanted help in case it came unhitched. Again. (She substituted an open padlock, which held pretty well.) Also we both were at the ends of our respective ropes and needed to get the hell out of camp. It was really nice. As it turned out, pretty much all the canoe tie-downs needed to be retied, so it was good that both of us were there. That lake is so beautiful, and so is the drive. It was a really nice little break.
Tomorrow, obviously, is the fourth. I'm supposed to go down to the beach to meet Sara & co, but I may have to postpone it a day to sleep and wait out traffic. The question is, what do I do for the fourth if I'm not driving six hours to Nags Head? There's always the option of staying here and watching the fireworks in Millboro, or I could drive home and attend the "America's Goddamn Birthday" party being thrown by some guys I knew in college. That would break up the drive, which would be nice, but I'd also probably be up late. Hm.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
As usual, I have forgotten most of what I wanted to say. But the part I remember is that
1. I suddenly realized the other day that I had a dream sometime recently which included the guy who writes a blog I read, and also his wife. Very strange. And sad.
2. I did it. I bought the Glee Soundtrack, Volume 1. The problem came when I realized that there was a fatal flaw in my brilliant plan to load the cd onto my computer while watching Glee on my computer. Perhaps some of you have seen the issue faster than I did: having but one cd/dvd drive in my laptop, it is difficult for my computer (though it is the picture of the Little Laptop That Could) to read a cd and a dvd at the same time.
It's okay, laptop. It's not your fault.
1. I suddenly realized the other day that I had a dream sometime recently which included the guy who writes a blog I read, and also his wife. Very strange. And sad.
2. I did it. I bought the Glee Soundtrack, Volume 1. The problem came when I realized that there was a fatal flaw in my brilliant plan to load the cd onto my computer while watching Glee on my computer. Perhaps some of you have seen the issue faster than I did: having but one cd/dvd drive in my laptop, it is difficult for my computer (though it is the picture of the Little Laptop That Could) to read a cd and a dvd at the same time.
It's okay, laptop. It's not your fault.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Thursday.
Ok, first things first:
Now on to other business.
- My chapstick fell the other day from my bedside cabinet onto (ostensibly) the floor, but seems to be somehow hiding itself. Since I don't feel like moving all the boxes of stuff that are under there, I guess I'll save it for when I run out of this other tube that I stole from Chloe yesterday. Thumbs up for being the only one in the house that likes Burt's Bees Honey Lip Balm.
-I bought this really cool necklace at the Maple Festival, but I didn't mention it because I was too busy moping. If I end up finally putting my pictures on my computer in a minute like I plan to, I will show you what it looks like. It's a "hand-painted Russian pendant." I'm not quite sure what makes it "Russian," as I'm fairly sure that the odds of finding an imported Russian work of art at a craft booth in Highland County, Va are pretty low. I liked it though, and it was fairly cheap.
-I like the colors I am wearing today: yellow "Cheerios" t-shirt, purple zip-up hoodie, orange baseball cap, blue jeans. It's possible I will put up a picture of that too, because I am into pictures right now.
-David seems to be doing better. That is, he seems to have a little bit of energy, and some things to say. The downside of that, of course, is that now our breakup is starting to hurt for him. I think I've sort of closed myself off to it again, for the most part. Just not thinking about it much, you know? When I do, of course, it's sad. Speaking of David, I'm trying to decide whether to go up to RMA to hang out with him and some other people tomorrow night. I'd like to go; I miss everyone and I'm not sure I'll get another chance, really, to see these people together. On the other hand, I'm not sure how I'd react to hanging out with David, especially with the possibility of there being alcohol involved. I just don't know how to handle myself yet, I guess, and I don't particularly want another meltdown. Argh. I don't know.
-I am thinking of trying to make frozen yogurt this weekend. I was hoping to do this with my mentee, and she seemed amenable to the idea, but she still has not told me when she's free. I guess there's still some time. Anyway, it shouldn't be too hard as long as I can find all the pieces of the ice cream maker. I mean, you put yogurt in, you turn the handle. How far wrong can you go? I feel like it would still taste good even if I didn't add anything at all. This project inspired by Sweetgreen.
-I smile (read: grin like an idiot out of nowhere) every single time I think about Festival International. I am so excited.
-I had a dream last night that some guy (who seemed to be a combination of a guy I knew in highschool and a guy who works at the bank near my job) wanted to take me on a date or something, and I kept crying that I was not a good person to date right now, that I'd just come out of a really long relationship, that I was in no shape to be starting another. I guess he followed me or something, or maybe I reluctantly gave in? I don't remember there actually being any sort of date, but sometime later a woman who I think was Mrs. Duggar gave one or both of us a talking to about how the whole thing was a bad idea. I remember thinking she was great, but I've forgotten pretty much everything else.
-It was Zachary's sixth birthday today, so we got to go have dinner with Holly and Brian and the kids, who honestly do look older every time I see them. Got some pictures of that too. My aunt Cary was excited about the shad roe we have in at work, and was planning to come get some before we opened until I remembered that we probably won't have any until noon. So I'll give her a call then. Whoops.
-Spring is so wonderful. If you're in anything but a deep depression, you just can't help from grinning on the day that it is finally so warm that you have to drive with both windows fully open. And then the light turns green, and that song comes on the radio, and you're soaring. The buds have been on the trees for a few days, but last night I noticed that they've grown enough to change the silhouettes of the branches against the night sky. Today the blossoms were out, pink, purple, and white, and the taller trees looked like someone had spray painted them with one pass of neon green. Forgive the urbanity (using the archaic definition) of the metaphor.
Now on to other business.
- My chapstick fell the other day from my bedside cabinet onto (ostensibly) the floor, but seems to be somehow hiding itself. Since I don't feel like moving all the boxes of stuff that are under there, I guess I'll save it for when I run out of this other tube that I stole from Chloe yesterday. Thumbs up for being the only one in the house that likes Burt's Bees Honey Lip Balm.
-I bought this really cool necklace at the Maple Festival, but I didn't mention it because I was too busy moping. If I end up finally putting my pictures on my computer in a minute like I plan to, I will show you what it looks like. It's a "hand-painted Russian pendant." I'm not quite sure what makes it "Russian," as I'm fairly sure that the odds of finding an imported Russian work of art at a craft booth in Highland County, Va are pretty low. I liked it though, and it was fairly cheap.
-I like the colors I am wearing today: yellow "Cheerios" t-shirt, purple zip-up hoodie, orange baseball cap, blue jeans. It's possible I will put up a picture of that too, because I am into pictures right now.
-David seems to be doing better. That is, he seems to have a little bit of energy, and some things to say. The downside of that, of course, is that now our breakup is starting to hurt for him. I think I've sort of closed myself off to it again, for the most part. Just not thinking about it much, you know? When I do, of course, it's sad. Speaking of David, I'm trying to decide whether to go up to RMA to hang out with him and some other people tomorrow night. I'd like to go; I miss everyone and I'm not sure I'll get another chance, really, to see these people together. On the other hand, I'm not sure how I'd react to hanging out with David, especially with the possibility of there being alcohol involved. I just don't know how to handle myself yet, I guess, and I don't particularly want another meltdown. Argh. I don't know.
-I am thinking of trying to make frozen yogurt this weekend. I was hoping to do this with my mentee, and she seemed amenable to the idea, but she still has not told me when she's free. I guess there's still some time. Anyway, it shouldn't be too hard as long as I can find all the pieces of the ice cream maker. I mean, you put yogurt in, you turn the handle. How far wrong can you go? I feel like it would still taste good even if I didn't add anything at all. This project inspired by Sweetgreen.
-I smile (read: grin like an idiot out of nowhere) every single time I think about Festival International. I am so excited.
-I had a dream last night that some guy (who seemed to be a combination of a guy I knew in highschool and a guy who works at the bank near my job) wanted to take me on a date or something, and I kept crying that I was not a good person to date right now, that I'd just come out of a really long relationship, that I was in no shape to be starting another. I guess he followed me or something, or maybe I reluctantly gave in? I don't remember there actually being any sort of date, but sometime later a woman who I think was Mrs. Duggar gave one or both of us a talking to about how the whole thing was a bad idea. I remember thinking she was great, but I've forgotten pretty much everything else.
-It was Zachary's sixth birthday today, so we got to go have dinner with Holly and Brian and the kids, who honestly do look older every time I see them. Got some pictures of that too. My aunt Cary was excited about the shad roe we have in at work, and was planning to come get some before we opened until I remembered that we probably won't have any until noon. So I'll give her a call then. Whoops.
-Spring is so wonderful. If you're in anything but a deep depression, you just can't help from grinning on the day that it is finally so warm that you have to drive with both windows fully open. And then the light turns green, and that song comes on the radio, and you're soaring. The buds have been on the trees for a few days, but last night I noticed that they've grown enough to change the silhouettes of the branches against the night sky. Today the blossoms were out, pink, purple, and white, and the taller trees looked like someone had spray painted them with one pass of neon green. Forgive the urbanity (using the archaic definition) of the metaphor.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Hokay
I guess I already mentioned that I have a job. It makes me tired and then I don't really feel like writing, especially since I'm trying to get to bed early (no, really--10 pm). I haven't made 10 yet, but I have gotten to bed before 11 once. Yesterday I was completely on my own for the first time, and my car "broke down" (aka ran out of gas while telling me I had a quarter tank) on the way to work. I finally got things straightened out and got to my territory around 12, and ended up making one sale, and finding some interested parties that wanted me to come back today. Today I woke up feeling weak and achy and headachy and nauseated at the thought of eating (but sort of hungry) and having trouble moving. I decided to stay home, and as is my custom, I am now second-guessing myself. Also I'm really hoping that the people who wanted to talk to me today will want to talk to me/buy things tomorrow. Arg.
In other news: last night I had a not-so-awesome dream about zombies. There was something about periodic zombie attacks and we were hoping to remain inconspicuous in this not-actually-secure building, and there were a bunch of morons around who kept making noise. And then for some reason people (including me!) were trying to drive places! And THEN, I was with/part of/watching? this family drive around in a car trying to avoid zombies, and then one got its arm in the window of the car so the dad rolled the window up which cut off the arm, and then later we/they were all in their house and I think there were maybe servants that were zombies? (Like that makes sense..) And THEN we found out that the DAD was actually a zombie, this whole time! It was not a very fun dream.
Also: I miss David. Except when I think about it too much; then sometimes I stop missing David until I let my guard down or whatever again.
In other news: last night I had a not-so-awesome dream about zombies. There was something about periodic zombie attacks and we were hoping to remain inconspicuous in this not-actually-secure building, and there were a bunch of morons around who kept making noise. And then for some reason people (including me!) were trying to drive places! And THEN, I was with/part of/watching? this family drive around in a car trying to avoid zombies, and then one got its arm in the window of the car so the dad rolled the window up which cut off the arm, and then later we/they were all in their house and I think there were maybe servants that were zombies? (Like that makes sense..) And THEN we found out that the DAD was actually a zombie, this whole time! It was not a very fun dream.
Also: I miss David. Except when I think about it too much; then sometimes I stop missing David until I let my guard down or whatever again.
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