waking up

I have been sick for the past month. Seriously.

I had a sinus infection followed by a sprained hand, and then two weeks ago I had a sudden crushing case of vertigo that turned out to be an ear virus. So for the past two weeks I have been a dizzy, nauseous mess. I haven't been able to drive or read or even watch tv!

Finally, I am getting over ear virus and am feeling better.

Not to jinx myself.

What have I learned? Where is the positivity? Well, I've had a cold every single month since last October. I think that was what finally morphed into the sinus infection. And seriously I think the colds were caused by stress. The sprained hand was a little devastating, but for about a week it taught me that I can live without tennis. And the biggest lesson has been from this ear virus. Even when I am sitting still I feel like I need to be productive. The ear virus really taught me how to be still. I think I still have a lot to learn about the art of being still, but I am on my way. And the ear virus really took my control away. I think that was a huge thing for me. It's definitely something I need to work on.

I am also tackling stress.

We'll see how it goes.

I'll leave you with a piece of the Sun. This piece really touched me.

Click to enlarge.

aliens and poltergeists

I am too young to be wise, but every once in awhile I have an experience that gives me such great wisdom that I have no other choice but to pass it along.

Please do not eat edamame in bed.

You will wake up in the middle of the night and assume that aliens have attached a probe to your leg, and you will spend fifteen minutes in the bathroom wondering how deep the probe is, and whether or not some unknown civilization is watching a movie of your life, calculating the success of impregnating you with their seed. You will think about Octavia Butler’s books, and touch the linoleum with your hands to make sure that it is human linoleum and that you are not in some cute replica of your bathroom. Finally you will tentatively touch the probe with a piece of toilet paper, and it will fall off. You will gasp, because you think that if it is a probe, why is it not sticking? And you will question their knowledge of adhesives, which really has nothing to do with the little green probe, but it’s 3 in the morning and you’re not really sure how a probe works, just that you know that you could make one stick if you had to. After a moment you will bend over and inspect the object, and after gathering some bravery you will poke it a little harder with the toilet paper and discover that is a leftover piece of edamame, and that if an alien ever does really stick you with a probe they will have this little memory to add to your life movie.

On another note, did I ever mention the fire at my gym? Well a couple years ago, after playing tennis one night I begrudgingly walked over to the gym, complaining in my head about lifting weights, the pure murder of it. As I plopped down on my first machine a man suddenly pushed me off, and started tugging me towards an exit. There’s a fire, he exclaimed, and sure enough, after looking up, I saw that the ceiling was slightly on fire.

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I got the h out of there (actually I went back to the locker room to get my stuff, which will hopefully help future aliens with any decisions concerning impregnation).

Unfortunately the gym was opened back up within the week.

So, I have this rule. If I’m tired, then fine I don’t have to run/lift weights. But if I’m tired the next day, then I better get my lazy ass on the treadmill. Even if I’m more tired than the day before. So I was too tired one day last week, but because I skipped the day before I knew I had to run. So I get the running part out of the way, plus an hour of tennis and I am seriously wiped, right? But the gal I was playing with still wanted to play, and we had the court reserved for an hour and a half, so I agreed but starting cussing out the world in my head. Just then the lights went out. I shit you not. And they didn’t come back on. In fact somebody came to usher us out of the building with a flashlight so we didn’t trip over the balls.

Hot damn, somebody can hear me. I think I have a poltergeist friend. Hopefully he will help me out when I find something attached to my leg that is not edamame.

beneath the burka

Before I tell you my latest dream I will give you a little context. First, the other day, while running at the gym I noticed a woman dancing in front of the racquetball courts. The courts were dark so she was able to use them as a mirror. She was wearing a burka and only dancing with the top half of her body. The dance she was doing was very intricate. I have never seen anyone use their arms in so many different ways. And because she was completely covered, even her face, she looked like some kind of magical flying creature. It was stunning.

Second, I started a new job as an administrative coordinator for a non-profit charity (I believe I’ve said all this correctly). I cannot tell you very much about it, because it is so unique, but it is a job that I want to do well at, and it’s for a cause that really touches me for personal reasons. The problem is that I am totally lost. There are only four people who work in this office, and the girl I am replacing is training me. I have been freaking out because I do not understand all of the job responsibilities plus I am struggling to learn a new database I have never seen before. I have been consumed with anxiety because this job is really important to me, and I really care about the people. I don’t want to let them down.

And third, I have been fighting another cold. So, I have been draining the Nyquil again. I should also note that every dream I have is pretty darn spectacular in some way or another, whether I’m stoned or not. I typically dream in wet paint. I am always in the process of drying in my dreams. And about 90% of the time I smear something on myself. The landscape is typically wet paint too, although there have been trees that have been real and outside of the painting. And while just about everything is wet paint there is often something that is perfectly real inside the painting. Mannequins visit my dreams periodically, as well as music. Music is always visual as well as auditory. If I can hear it then I can see it too. It usually takes on interesting roles such as houses, stairs, clothing. And there are always breasts and armpits in my dreams. I have always had a fascination with these body parts, and have drawn them many ways, so it makes sense that my dreams include them. All of this is when I do not chug the Nyquil. When I chug the Nyquil things get a bit more interesting, and a lot of the wet paint disappears which makes the parts that are wet even more fascinating and meaningful.

In a dream from last week I was in the office where I have been working. It was my first day working alone, without any help, and as I walked into my area I noticed everything was gone. The gal who had the job before me had taken not only her personal items, but also the printers, telephone, pencil holder etc. This made me incredibly frantic because I wasn’t sure how I was going to do the job. As I walked around the area it became obvious that the office was inside the racquetball court at the gym. When I looked out the glass doors I saw the lady dancing. She looked exactly the same as the other day, but unlike the other day, she was stripping down to her skivvies. And as all of her garb fell to the floor I could see that she was tattooed head to toe in the most wonderful fauvist landscape. She danced with just her arms and the movement caused the landscape on her body to change, kind of like tv. The whole time she looked straight at me, and as I woke up I knew that I was looking at myself.

Bam Wait

What's been going on here?

Well somebody finally noticed my brooding scientist walk. They said that I had a joyful walk, which is probably code for you walk like a damn fruit cake, but I was still flattered.

Red Rain. This is the closest I'll ever get to a sexy song. I can only hope I play tennis the way this sounds. Like Bam da da da da Bam. A little pause and then Bam.

Oh Mississippi. I feel like Mississippi sometimes.

THE MURDER OF TWO MEN BY A YOUNG KID WEARING LEMON-COLORED GLOVES. Yes I am yelling at you. But I was nice. I didn't italicize.

G6. Hi my name is Hannah Jane and I have a problem. I am addicted to G6 even though I have no idea what the hell that means.

Royal T. Who doesn't love Róisín Murphy? And this song has the most fantastic noises. At times I feel like I'm underwater.

Olaf Hajek

While reading The New Secret Language of Symbols I stumbled across Olaf Hajek.

I will never be the same.

here you go momalu

It's Official

Robert has finished his MBA.

Congratulations lover man : )

brandy for the nerves

The Celts

Year In The Kingdom

Sad Statue

on the other side of my eyes

I had 2 odd dreams last night.

The first involved carmex. Did you know I love carmex? Well I do. Last night, and this was very realistic, I was attempting to put on some carmex and when I touched my lips they were sausages, links not patties, and I just didn’t have enough carmex to cover 2 giant links so I begin to cry and wail that I did not have enough carmex. And no one heard me.

After a little research I discovered that it is not a smart idea to google dreams about sausages, but I also learned that there might be a little penis envy going on. Which is understandable. I used to be a man you know, in another life. A gay one with fruit boobies no doubt, but I think maybe I was crying out for that man.

Another possible interpretation is that my lips were really chapped.

After this dream I guess I took a break, because I remember a particular blank grey, that prompted snow and ashes and dying birds on my windshield.

But that didn’t last of course. Suddenly I was at the top of the stairs leading to the basement and I was picking up clothes I had thrown down the stairs (they hadn’t made it very far), and out of the ceiling popped a black spider. Screaming, I half fell down the stairs. Josh and his current girlfriend came out his room, and to my horror I had somehow lost my shirt in the tumble and was coughing like a maniac. Thankfully I was wearing a granny bra that covered everything, but while Josh went to get the spider his current girlfriend just stood there awkwardly with me and didn’t say anything. Nobody laughed, which would have made the situation so much better. I finally coughed myself awake, and as I flipped over in bed it was quite apparent that I had somehow really lost my shirt while sleeping.

I didn’t even try to interpret that. I just know that I was horrified, and that I felt tackled by my fears.

It should be noted that I have been tipping back the Nyquil, and that I’m an extremely sensitive person. One swig of that and I’m waking up to chase purple unicorns down the hall (which is probably how I lost my shirt last night). I also haven’t been dreaming in paint lately, which is lonely and sterile. I miss the sloppy ranunculus buds and fat drops of unfinished sky.

arggggh

I am still under the weather, but feeling better.

Today I managed to get out of bed and listen to some music. I think I'll take my ipod back to bed with me.

The latest from my itunes:

Emile Pandolfi

Ravi Shankar


And The Frames...