Louboutins, leather pants, prom dresses, little black dresses, skin tight pantsuits, so many sequins, mermaid suit with red pushup bra, thigh-high boots, bathroom selfies, drunk Santa security guards, yay for bow ties, 80s ball gowns, peroxide blonde, boyfriend jacket no boyfriend, I can’t hear a fucking thing, five-inch heels, sashaying, shiny green dress, shiny gold dress, shiny blue dress, shiny red dress, shiny silver dress, leopard print jumpsuit, animal print everything, I don’t need to see your underpants miss, faux-hawks, orange suits, rope belts, captain hats, Popeye pipe, spray tans, yay for ripped jeans and a blazer, zipper pants, why are you sitting on the floor, why is that beat pulsing non-stop, so many pantsuits!, a spaghetti strap dress should not be worn over a sweater, that blouse is not a dress, just because it’s a fancy hotel does not make bathroom selfies classy, what the fuck have you done to your hair, shiny mermaid, backless blouses, why is your dress a tube top, yay for converse, honey you are not Pink, apparently there’s something about Mary, no I won’t wear my teeth to the awards, apparently if you sit on the floor beside the VIP entrance they’ll let you in, my that’s a lovely chest tattoo miss, why is you boyfriend – who looks like Squiggy – chugging two beers for you fancy photo op, all the “VIP’s” are putting their empty glasses on our table – WTF – put it on the floor fucker, I think I’ll just rest my beer can in my cleavage. I need to go home. I need my cats.
Over the last year, a lot of changes have occurred. I didn’t even blog, because I didn’t know what to write. I wrote a short story that I toyed with turning into a novel. I’ve not done much with either one. I finally got a job, doing something I never, ever, thought I’d do… let alone enjoy. It’s not quite enough to pay the mortgage, but it’s more than I’ve had in the last four years. At least it’s there. It’s real. It’s reliable.
I accepted more of myself and embraced my weirdness. I bought my dream car. Her name is Lucille, and she’s a hearse. I expanded my skeleton family. They are a perfect little family, despite the missing limbs and the fact that they are dead.
Some bad relationships turned good, some good relationships turned bad. I tried to tune out the toxic influences. Sometimes I succeeded, sometimes not. I met some awesome new people in my job, and found a new family member that had been long lost.
I relied very heavily on my cats to keep my sane. I spent the better part of the last year doubting myself. Questioning myself. Disliking myself. They kept me grounded. They kept me here.
I’ve started to write a bit more again. I’m even going to be published, since I helped my saner half write a short story. I’m immersing myself in the beauty of the world though photography. I am hoping to carve again this year.
So far, 2018 is stirring up a lot of memories… especially from one of my worst years ever (2013). It’s not going to be an easy year, but I’ll get through it. One way or another. I’ll return here too, and vent to whomever reads this. If no one does, that’s okay too. At least I will have spoken.
It’s been four months since I blogged. I find that very distressing. So much has happened in four months, yet nothing has changed. I have so much to say, but no words will come. I gained stability, only to lose it again. I survived yet another long dark, with a great deal of support from my familiars. I look forward to regenerating my soul with nature as the green man continues to battle towards spring. Hopefully, soon, the words will come once more.
What day is today? Friday. Hopefully I’ll hear something today. Please don’t let it be another rejection. What time is it? Oh, I’ve got time, the cats are still cuddly and they are warm. It’s not like I have to *be* anywhere today anyway. I hate winter. Shit, I should get my bloodwork done. And I need wine. And kitty litter. Oh hell, I have to go to the bank. I didn’t deposit that money and the mortgage payment went through, so I’m in overdraft. That’s okay. I’ll deposit it today and I’ll be back in black. But there won’t be enough for my insurance next week. I need to sell some stuff. What can I sell? Oh, I just heard a ping. Maybe it’s an email about the job. Nope, just a rejection for a job I applied to months ago. I wasn’t expecting that one to go in my favour anyway. They never hire externally. Oh no. I still haven’t written to my aunt. What should I say? It’s been so long. “Dear Aunt Joanne, I’m so sorry I haven’t written to you in so long. I’ve been pretty down about unemployment lately and haven’t been doing much of anything but sleeping. I often lie in bed and compose letters to you, but by the time I’ve finally hauled myself out of bed, I’ve gotten distracted and then forget to actually do it….” What was that noise? Oh, just one of the cats. I haven’t fed the birds in two days. I need to fix that. I think the crows will like the freezer burnt chicken fingers. What time is it now? Is that all? I’m hungry, but I’m warm and comfy so I’m not moving. I wish Geoff was here. I could sell that four piece tea set. I haven’t written a blog post since before Christmas. I wonder why no one wanted that really warm coat I tried to sell last year. I guess I can try that one again. I sure am glad I don’t have to lick myself clean every day. I want spring to come. I miss sitting on the deck with my book, watching the birds. Why does my brain do all this? Maybe I can borrow money from my business to pay the insurance. Shit, I need to pick up a prescription too, who knows how much that will cost. Is it snowing? Crap. I hate winter. Ohhh, Pinot is being so cute. He really is my cuddle-bunny. Shit, I hope I don’t miss garbage day. I missed recycling. Again. But there was no way in hell I was going out in -35 celcius to put it out. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. Tomorrow is Saturday. And it’s supposed to be freakishly cold. I may not leave the house. I don’t really have to. Hamlet is snoring. I wonder what I’m going to have for dinner tonight. What’s that noise? Just the neighbours, listening to music again… it’s amazing I can hear it with all the windows closed. I haven’t practiced my bagpipes this week. I sure hope I’ll be good enough for the wedding in September. I don’t want to let them down. I wonder if I’ll have my wedding this year? Probably not. I can’t believe the behaviour of some people. I never took those bags to the charity shop. Then again, I’ve not driven past it. Yes, I did, but I was tired. Right. Shocking. If I were to go into Winchester today, maybe I’ll get a fancy coffee from Timmies. Oh, I need to fill the car too. I need to sell stuff. I need a job. Why won’t anyone hire me? Oh, wait. I thought I was done my Valentine’s Day gift, but I’m not. I’m only half done. That’s okay, I can do that tonight. I’m hungry. I can wait. Another ping! Just crap, still no news. The longer I go without hearing, the more negative I know I’m going to be. This is going to be a stressful weekend. I’ll be obsessing the whole time. I hope I don’t pass out at band practice. I wonder why that drummer didn’t show up again. I’m so glad that YinYang is peeing normally again. That is worth the cost of the expensive cat food. I have an urge for steak. That was a weird dream. I don’t think the river will ever flood like that in real life, but I really don’t understand why there was a reindeer in my backyard. I wish I could get on the trampoline. That might be a nice stress relief. Bloody thing would crack in this cold. Is there anything interesting on tv tonight? No, it’s Friday. I’ve got my book. I should clean the living room. I will when I get up. I don’t want to go all the way into Winchester today. But I should. There’s that music again. I wish Geoff was here. I’ve got to bring my computer into the shop soon. It’s a pain the ass not having a proper shift key. That’ll cost money, so it can wait. I love the sound of Ophelia’s purr. I hope my mum’s ankle starts healing soon. Why are people honking and yelling out front? I don’t want to know. What time is it now? Oh. I wish I were a cat. I wonder if anyone noticed that I left a skeleton on a stick, and a skel-amingo on the front porch over Christmas. I didn’t want to leave the skel-amingo out, but he’ll have to stay now. How many cats with me now? Aw. I love them. “Dear Aunt Donna, I’m so sorry I haven’t written in so long…” Another ping! Why do these people keep sending me emails wanting me to donate my carvings. For the love of everything sacred, I want to sell the bloody things, not give them away. Why can’t I turn my brain off? I wish I could, even for five minutes. I could sell that picture. No, wait. The glass broke… Oh, I could sell the wolf one. The other one was popular. I’m not selling any of my coffins or skeletons. This is their home. Skates! I’m never going to use them again, not after 4 sprained ankles. Funny that my doctor was creeped out by how bendy my ankles are. She’s not the first one to be freaked out by that. Crap, I’m supposed to buy an ankle brace too. That can wait. Kijiji or Facebook? I’ll sell stuff on both. Sooo furry, hello my YinYing. What am I going to make for dinner for Geoff on Saturday? I have no idea… It will be too cold to BBQ. I want this job so much. I’m afraid of hoping too much. I’m so tired. I guess I’d better get up and start my day…
So the dream thing is pretty much taking on a life of its own…
Two nights ago, I had a dream about visiting a shrine to a religion that was far more akin to a cult than anything. It was a fabulous location, with about 500 steps leading up to the main shrine. It was called The Church of the Holy Shrine, and tours were available on every other hour. I arrived at the church by providence, since the directions to the place were completely inaccurate, as were the Google maps. Luckily, I recognized its magnificence. (Keep in mind, I am an athiestic/nature-pagany type person…) We all got out and stood in a very long line to take the tour. After hours, we got in and sat down to a very impressionistic video, followed by an invitation to attend a catered lunch.
I was with my parents, my fiance, and my closest friend. The nice thing was, we were able to take pictures together (on the edge of a precipice) in a very picturesque location. We looked fabulous.
At the lunch, people milled about, drinking wine (thank goodness for that) as we awaited the culinary celebration. Alas, there were more people than tables and anarchy ensued. [This is interesting, since the night before, I had dreamed of a sit down dinner at a fancy club with my parents, at which I was not allowed to sit with them. Instead, I was seated at a small coffee table with a yoga ball to sit on. I had one hell of a time to not roll under the table, and I never got any bloody food. But I digress….] Needless to say, no one ate.
Shortly thereafter, the person in charge of the religion/cult announced that the main event was about to start. We were to witness the most spectacular event in the history of religion. We were all on vessel very much like a ship, and we were violently tossed about as if we were in rough seas. As it turned out, we had been attached by a large crane, unseen by us as we were forced upon it. By the time someone stopped it, most of us had been thrown off. We were witness to the ship taking “sail” down the steps. It resembled a cardboard tank. Very odd…
When the “tank” rolled to the bottom of the steps, it hit water and exploded on impact. Most of the spectators didn’t survive. I did.
Fast forward to last night’s dream… I don’t remember a lot of the beginning. My consciousness starts at being trapped on the top of a hill that is akin to a painted desert hilltop. It’s dirt, only about 30 feet from the main land, and I’m in a car. It’s all quite hopeless, since it’s too far to jump, so, I have no choice but to force myself to slide down.
I think that’s the worst part of dream. I have no control. I can’t help where I fall, and where I land. Eventually, I do land. At the end of my own garden (which isn’t actually my garden). My legs won’t work and I have to haul myself (inch by inch) up an impossible hill.
Once I get there, I am on a familiar street (in dreams, but not reality) and I meet up with my mother. We decide to head home (?!?) and head down main street. It’s a busy street, with which I’m familiar (but never been in on real life – although I feel I know it intimately). I am barefoot, and stepping on every piece of glass and stone. My mum and I stop at a store to get shoes. None are to be had and so and I’m ushered out in the swampland. I can only travel though that for so long before I’m forced out into the streets again. This time, the sidewalks are paved with jagged stone and shards of glass. I am still barefoot, but have a mile yet to walk.
So there you have the latest weirdness. It’s getting weirder and weirder as time goes on.
Does anyone have any insight? Please share, if you do.
I would imagine that because my life hasn’t changed (what with the constant instability of unemployment) my dreams are still freakishly odd. Here’s what I remember from last night.
There was a whole whack of weird stuff as I walked through my town. None of it is in my town, but I’ve seen it before in dreams… I’ve been to this town many times, the shops are the same, I’ve never been there, but I know it’s my town. But, I digress. The most vivid part was when I was driving into it. I got to the stop sign where the gas station/corner store is (even though it’s not a four-way stop in real life) and my car stalled at the intersection. Acquaintances that I’ve not seen in a long time arrived on the scene in tiny metal stroller/metal wheeled things (kind of like sitting in the bottom part of a tea caddy…) on their way to visit another friend at the house at that very corner. I joined them, hoping my car would start soon. What ensued was a bunch of annoying girly gossip, which I hate with a passion, and I had to leave. As I got into my car, a little old man started bashing his own car into my rear bumper, trying to get me to move through the intersection. Alas, it still wouldn’t start. I shrugged and waved, to which he hit the gas and plowed me into the ditch.
Once I extricated myself, I crossed the street to the gas station/corner store (which now has a garage, unlike real life) and found someone who would pull me out. He offered to do so and tow me home (about 1 kilometer) for $75. I was horrified and responded that all I wanted was to get to the garage. He quoted me $15 instead. It ended up costing me $45 to be towed about 50 feet. Bastard.
At the same time, a co-op garden was being ploughed under by some fiendish human, and giant zucchinis were being hurtled across the street. They were hurtling across the street like giant, green, oblong cannon balls. People were running around like mad, picking up the flying vegetables. I was quite disappointed, being more of a cucumber kind of girl.
While I was waiting for my car, I went to work (right next door – how convenient!) in a place I’ve been before in my dreams, but again, never in real life. It was the same creepy scenario of trying to clean out an abandoned, decrepit, musty old diner/shop/restaurant/house. As happens every time, I’ve forgotten the alarm code and panicking about what to do when I’m done. I go through the same rooms, doing the same thing, enter the same creepy living space that is set up to look like it’s lived in but no one does, deal with the same kittens that I’m convinced are trying to lure my own cats out into the rat-infested attic (which makes no sense, since my cats aren’t there, even though they are…), and go down into the same basement trying to find one particular thing – although I never know what it is. This time, however, the dream differs. This time, while in the basement, I met a ghost. A soldier from the First World War. He was lovely, and helped me back up the stairs when they crumbled and I became trapped. Although I did feel guilty stepping on a grand piano.
Intermingled through all of these dreams I was with people trying to find a seat at various restaurants and we were placed in the strangest places, I was driving roads I’ve travelled hundreds of times (but again, not in real life – despite the fact that they were sooo familiar), I was walking through a school campus that I knew like the back of my hand (which I’ve never been to), and playing bagpipes (at least THAT is realistic!) with a band I’ve never played with before.
In the end, when the tire was pulled off my car in order to remove it from the ditch (apparently that was essential!?!), half a tree was found lodged in the middle of the engine. No idea where that came from. I guess that’s why it stalled.
In real life, my check engine light has been on for a month. Even though I’m 99% sure it’s something that’s not a big deal, I’m kind of afraid to drive now.
The subconscious is a pretty weird thing. After a sleepless night, I fell into a very bizarre sleeping-in (one perk, I suppose, of unemployment) dream-fest.
The beginning of it is a bit hazy, but it involved attending some sort of event, at which I was dependent on a ride home. No one showed up, so I fell asleep (not sure where) and woke up at 1:30 in the morning to find my ride raking garbage out of her car. She still wouldn’t take me home because she was participating in a skipping race, with another person, down Merivale Road. Both of these people I knew back in high school, but have not seen them for any significant amount of time since then. So that was weird.
Once the race was over, it dawned on me that I was supposed to move that day. The friend had a tiny car but an odd trailer that unfolded into quite the storage wardrobe on wheels. I called my parents and told them I’d start with her help but we couldn’t fit the big stuff in. We had to run up and down round hotel staircases to get to my stuff on the third floor. I took great pleasure in the fact that we were moving, that the woman below me disliked me intensely. I knew she would be annoyed by the noise. That woman, incidentally, popped up through every aspect of my dreams, insulting me, harassing me, and repeating “But I bought you a Christmas present last year”. I know her in real life, and I can assure you, she did not.
Most of my stuff, however, was in a warehouse on big, shiny, silver shelves like you see in stores. There were many people to help me move, all people I have encountered in my life, but it made no sense that they were there. The warehouse was also part of a store. My stuff was mixed in with what they were selling, and some of it still had to be packed. It was very annoying, and I couldn’t keep customers from trying to buy my stuff before I could pack it. I guess this is why you should always pack well before moving day.
While attempting to do all of that, and organize my helpers, I got an urgent message that I was needed back at my house (which was no longer in a hotel) because things had turned nasty. When I got there, it was mostly underground, because I lived in some sort of pit dwelling. The biggest problem, it would seem, was the bathroom. Pretty much everything in it had rotted and there was a family of rather angry black and white foxes living there. Once I crawled along the entrance way, on my belly, I entered the room to confirm their reports. The foxes weren’t exactly friendly, but they didn’t attack. I didn’t salvage much. Things weren’t much better in the bedroom. Every time I picked something up, there were puddles of black swamp underneath, and they burst occasionally into low flames. It wasn’t a Princess Bride Fire Swamp kinda thing, just a lot of ooze that would flare up when broken things were tossed in.
What was salvaged from my strange, wild animal and swamp infested home, was eventually dragged to a dilapidated barn for packing. Every time I tried to grab a box, my aunt would yell “that one is for garbage!” and I’d have to put it back.
Throughout all of this, I kept having to run back and forth between the hotel and the place I was moving to. I’m still not sure where the pit was, or where it was that I was actually moving to… But I was running on foot. Well, actually, hand and foot. I was pretty quick too, despite it being rather awkward running on all fours. Once, while crossing an intersection, I came across a bunch of kids who used to live on the floor below me in an old house. They all yelled out “Oh my god, it’s YOU!”, to which I replied “See, you never knew just who lived upstairs, did you?”. They all stood, wide-eyed with their mouths hanging open, shaking their heads, as I flew by.
I never did see the place I was moving to.
As far as I know, I never actually moved.
It’s one of those days again. I’m still unemployed, but I am lucky enough to have some contract work. So, technically I’m not completely unemployed. I am also lucky that I can do the contract work from home. I want to sleep all the time. I’m still exhausted, even though school is over, but according to my doctor, nothing is wrong with me. But now I have work to do. I’m letting other things slide again. I’m feeling guilty about that. Here is how my day has shaped up…
So tired, I don’t want to get out of bed. Oh, kitties. Yay for kitty love. Look, it’s not as late as yesterday, I can stay in bed a while longer. Oh damn, my stomach is not happy. Shit, I have to do laundry. Yay, kitties. The bathroom counter is a mess, I really need to clean it off. Okay, five more minutes in bed with the cats. Nope, my belly does not agree with that. Okay fine, I’ll get up. What is she growling about, did she catch a mouse? No, that’s a day old hairball. Nice. No, I’m not leaving the house again today, except to go next door, I can dress like a bag of crap again. Cats are fed, but I need to deal with the litter boxes. Wait, I have to deal with the rescue cat on the mud porch. She’s cute. Life will be so much easier when she comes in so I don’t have to deal with battling in and out every door. Every time I come or go. Which is often. *four battles later* The computer is set up outside and I can start work.
The software is fucking up. Now it’s frozen my computer. It seems to have taken me an hour to do ten minutes worth of work. I’m not getting any answers from questions I’ve sent out. I have so much to do, I hope that one of my answers comes through about tomorrow that would give me about two hours grace to get more work done, and get some of the house clean. She’s not answering and my computer is frozen again. Oh good, the new dog in town is howling like it’s been abandoned and in pain again. And I can hear my oldest cat howling from inside the house. Shit, I forgot to feed the neighbour’s lizard. Done. Good, my computer has rebooted. Still no answer about tomorrow. I guess I’m staying up later tonight. Less sleep. I want to work on actual work, it’s been so long since I had some and I want to impress them. One question answered, not the one I need for tomorrow. I wish the rescue would stop meowing at me through the window, I feel so guilty. I’ve gotten a lot done today, I’m quite proud of myself. I should have done more. I should have been doing laundry at the same time. I should have emptied the dishwasher. I should have cleaned the litter box. Oh look, a bat on the shed.
I’m done work for today and downloading. I have sooo many other things to do. Shit, tomorrow is recycling day and I can’t carry anything off the mud porch because I can’t bear battling the rescue. It’s stressing me out that I have to battle in and out the doors. I feel trapped inside my home, and outside it. Oh great, I forgot to eat lunch. Again. Shit, I took dinner out to thaw a bit, now it’s thawed completely and I have to try to tie it together. I still haven’t done laundry. I still haven’t emptied the dishwasher, I still haven’t cleaned the kitty litter box. I need wine.
The downloading is done, off for it’s second critique. There are no jobs I can apply for today, everything requires French. It sucks being unilingual. I guess I should start dinner. Oh good, the neighbours are screaming and swearing at their kids again. The howling dog as started across the street again. My dinner is dropping through the grill, I’ll be lucky if I have any dinner to eat tonight. The cat is meowing through the window again. Can I just scream and run away for a little while?
Dinner was salvaged, but it was tiny and very unsatisfying. Still no word on tomorrow. I guess I should just plan on not having the extra time I need. Would it be so difficult to respond to a simple fucking question? Well, most people assume I’ve got nothing but time on my hand, so it’s irrelevant, right? I need five minutes. Just to sit in the dark and enjoy my wine. Oh look, a full moon, I’ll watch that and let my mind wander. Damn. I still have to put the garbage out. And the recycling. I need to clean the spare room, and to do laundry, and to empty the dishwasher, and to clean the litter boxes.
Eight months of blood, sweat, and tears (and yes, all three were shed….) and I am done school. For second term, my lowest mark was 83.1%, my highest was 95.96%. I made it onto the Dean’s Honour List for the second term in a row. Although it seemed like an eternity while I was going through it, I can’t believe how quickly it flew by. In eight months I learned how to use eight new software packages and four languages. I have crammed so much in my brain that I can no longer remember what I went into another room for, even after I’ve picked it up, but I can take apart an image of a skull and have it roll across the computer screen. Not a bad skill to have, not when you’re the Witch of South Mountain.
I can honestly say that I’m exhausted. The course was a two year program, smashed into eight months. I stressed myself out for so long about absolutely everything that all I want to do now is stay curled up in bed with the covers pulled over my head and avoid the world entirely. When I do get up, I want to nap. I question my sanity, I question my health, and I hope that things return to normal. But I don’t know what normal is anymore. School became normal. Although it was stressful, it was comfortable. I was safe there. I had friends going through the same thing and we spent a lot of time together. Now I’m done. I don’t have a job, I don’t have school, I have no money coming in, and I have a house and bills to pay. So now it’s a new stress. A similar stress as I had before I went back to school, but… it’s exactly the same but completely different.
Now the job hunt begins. Again. At least this time I have more skills. I have a University degree AND a Collage diploma. Surely someone will want me… won’t they?
According to my boyfriend, I’m a whirling maelstrom of doom. And he had no idea I was writing this when he said it. I like that.
An hour long commute can be interesting in my head. My brain is allowed to wander, and that can be a dangerous thing…
And there you have a mere snippet of an average commute in my world. No wonder I drink.
PS. Egg salad, but no croissant. Damn.