What the…

Have you ever had one of those days when you wake up on a bus that is packed full of young, well-dressed party-goers, and you’re in nothing but a fluffy bathrobe with a towel tied around your head? And it’s night time? And it’s New Year’s Eve? I was, two nights ago. Or at least I dreamed it. It was terrifying, because everyone was trying to peek under my bathrobe to see how fat I was. And then a man got on and handed everyone a piece of paper. It was a terrorist attack, and only half of the people on the bus would survive, based on what was written on the paper handed them. Mine said simply, “Die.”

I managed to flee the bus before it was set on fire, only to find myself in a mall. It’s one that I have been to many times, but never physically. I’m not sure it even exists. But I recognized it, nonetheless. I had to get to the other side of the mall, which (unlike other visits here) was also at the base of a very fancy hotel that was right on the ocean. I kept stopping to try to take pictures of the sunset from the scenic lookout rooms that were located at regular intervals. Every time I got to the far end of the mall, I was forced to exit and ended up right back where I entered it in the first place, with the bus still burning in the background. It was quite infuriating. At least on second entry I was clothed, although I can’t for the life of me figure out why I was wearing heels…

I must have walked the length of that friggin’ mall eight times.* Each time, I was still trying to take pictures, but every time I tried, a tsunami-worthy wave kept sweeping closer and closer, blocking the beautiful colours of the sunset. No one was concerned about the wave, however, so I kept going. The final time I walked it’s length, it was 11:30 and I had to find friends, or I’d be alone to start the year. I found the restaurant where everyone was, but it was being transformed into a fancy theatrical performance and I didn’t have a ticket. I exited the mall, one last time, and I ended up ringing in the new year, alone, wandering a dusty, dirt road (nowhere near an ocean) in daylight (even though it was midnight) looking for a patio.

And then it got strange…

*For the record, I hate malls. This part was equally as disturbing as the terrorist threat.

The Pool

The path wound up the side of the mountain, often doubling back upon itself. It started out rocky, but quickly turned into a crystalline white sand. The texture was so soft, I found myself scooping it up and letting it run through my fingers and down my arms. It was difficult to walk through, so I found myself crawling, revelling in the sensations as I progressed. Distracted by my progress, I was not prepared to round the last corner and come face-to-face with that which appeared before me.

The sand trailed further upward, flanking a sloping garden of epic proportions. Within the sand boarders, marble walls enclosed lush gardens that housed orchids, roses, and flowers that I’ve only seen in books. Flowing down the centre, was a pool that seemed to go on forever. The colour of the water was an unearthly greenish-yellow, that seemed to get darker towards the foot of the structure.

There were people everywhere. Why did I not encounter a single person on my ascent? It would seem, like a water park, people were emerging from the foot of the pool and returning to the summit for another go. Curious, I fell into line with the others, climbing the hill.

Something felt wrong. No one was wet. How on earth could people emerge from a pool, completely dry? My curiosity was piqued even more.

As we approached the top, the path disappeared into the side of the hill. The top of the pool was not accessible from outside. A tunnel led us into what seemed like the centre of the earth. It led straight into the hill for a few minutes and then abruptly came to a 180 degree angle. As I turned, I saw an escalator leading sharply upward. I stepped on, and was immediately fascinated with intricate patterns within the marble walls as I rose. It was all very calming…soothing… comforting.

As I reached the summit, the pool and the gardens appeared before me. It was breathtaking. Although the colour of the water was surreal, it was disturbingly inviting. I was drawn towards the edge. What was I thinking? I was fully clothed! Before I knew what I was doing, I was standing at the lip of the pool. I felt myself step forward. I couldn’t stop myself. I plunged into the murky depths.

Instinctively, I gasped, knowing that the sharp intake of water would be my demise. Nothing happened… The water didn’t feel like water at all. Tentatively, I took another breath. It was as if I was breathing air. Not realizing I was doing so, I relaxed, and I felt myself being pulled forward, through the mysterious liquid.

I had never felt more at peace. Every stress in my body seemed to fade away. The liquid moved me, slowly, along the length of the pool. I did not have to swim, I could breathe, all I had to do was relax, and let the calm wash over me. It seemed like an eternity, yet I reached the far end of the structure, the beautiful white marble rising in front of me.

I heaved myself out, amazed to find myself completely dry. I stood for a moment and marvelled in the fact that I hadn’t felt so serene in 30 years. I needed more.

I headed back to the hill, wanting to experience this blissful feeling again. As I got to base and started to climb, I saw a young woman who seemed to be feeling the same confusion, yet peacefulness as myself. I smiled at her, and she smiled back. As we ascended, and then stepped upon the escalator, we clasped hands. Without speaking, we knew we had to see if the same thing could happen if we were together.

Without hesitation, we approached and edge, squeezed each others hands, and jumped. It was the same as the first time. Time stopped, stress disappeared. But this time, linked with another human, we connected. I felt her heartbeat through our linked hands, and I know she felt mine. We did not let go and slowly drifted, together, towards the end of the pool. We emerged, even more renewed, and headed back to the hill again.

As we reached the bottom, a wizened old man emerged from the shrubbery. “Don’t go again,” he said. We looked at each other, puzzled, and looked back at the man.

“Why on earth not?” I asked. “After everything I’ve been through in my life, I’ve never felt this relaxed…this happy.”

My new friend nodded, agreeing with me.

“You don’t understand,” he insisted. “Every time you go through the pool, you lose time.”

I shook my head, examined my hands, (for I did not have a mirror) and asked him, “Are you saying I get younger every time I go in?” I laughed, “I surely have no problems with that…”

He shook his head and looked sad. “You do not lose years, you will not get younger. You lose time. How many times have you swum?”

“Twice,” I responded, “and I’m looking forward to a few more.”

My companion and I turned away from the old man and began to walk up the hill.

The old man yelled at us from behind. “Every time you swim, six months goes by in the world from which you came. You’ve already lost a year of your life. Your family has given you up for dead. The world you knew, is forever changed. The more you swim, the less chance you have of going back to who you were!”

A smile played across my lips, and I looked back up the hill to my destination. “Perfect.”

Mabon

It was quiet. Too quiet. I was warned that door-to-door hustlers were roaming the town, so I remained hidden in the backyard with nothing but a floodlight and a laptop for company. The sun had set an hour before, and my solar lights danced merrily in the gloom. There was no one home on either side of me, as far as two houses over on either side. No one would hear if I screamed.

One side wouldn’t have responded anyway. I have enemies in this town. I did things on impulse. I spoke my opinions. I remained true to myself. I harmed no one. I was merely the witch. But still, the enemies grew. My sanctuary, violated. I could have retaliated, with horrible attempts at new tunes on the bagpipes at ungodly hours… but then I would have been subject to loud, twangy, country music. That torture still occurs, from time to time, but the most part the quiet has returned. Finally, a cold impasse. I do not exist. I am happy with that.

Coyotes howl in the distance. Crickets sing their constant drone. The occasional car passes through town. Tires on gravel as neighbours, further afield, return to their homes after a long day. I hear it all, as I sit here.

I see movement out of the corner of my eye. It’s just a neighbourhood cat, passing through my backyard in search for… companionship, combat, prey down by the river, something…

My mind races with a million thoughts at once. Although it may be quiet outside, it will never be quiet in my head. There are too many uncertainties. Too many unknowns.

Something is rustling at the end of the garden. I can’t see anything. It’s too dark, despite the solar lights. The sounds start coming from various parts of my yard. It’s almost like creatures are crawling out of the plants from every corner. It’s subtle, however. A faint rustling. But it, they, are coming closer.

A flash of pink streams across my peripheral vision, but disappears as soon as I turn my head. I hear the sound of metal on metal, and, oddly… plastic. Surely I’m just imagining things. My neighbour’s air conditioner is still clicking on and off, it must be acting up. I need more wine.

I refill my glass, cuddle my familiar, and return to my post outside. As I settle myself back down again, I see a pink flash again. I turn towards it to see one of my pink flamingos stuck solidly in the ground, below my tree. Very strange, for all my flamingos are scattered throughout the yard, none under the tree. I turn back to the computer only to see movement out of the corner of my eye again. Two more flamingos. No wait, there are more. Suddenly, the Dr. Who episode “Blink” pops into my head. I chuckle, shake my head, and take another sip of wine. That’s only on television… But that still doesn’t explain why there are plastic flamingos, standing at the bottom of my deck, staring at me. Old ones, new ones, shiny ones, skeleton ones, zombie ones… even the legless one peers at me from the tree.

Today is the Autumnal Equinox, where the day is of equal length as the night. The Sun God is to be mourned, and we must realize that all things must come to an end. A time to reap what we have sown.

“By the Gods, what have I done?”

Today, I met my hero.

It has been a long time since I’ve blogged. I think the main reason is that I have felt like I haven’t had anything to say. Today, that changed. Today, I met my hero.

It’s not the first time we’ve met, but today… today we really talked to each other, and she became my hero. She doesn’t know this, but she will. We didn’t talk about ALL THE THINGS, but we talked about enough things.

I’ve been through some pretty shitty things in my life. She has “been there, done that” with almost all of mine, and then some (times 100,000). But she’s not arrogant about it. She’s just awesome. I have always had a habit of letting the bad things get to me, and bring me down. I let them control me. She’s had so many things try to tear her down, and she still gets up, smiles, and says “bring it on motherfucker!”. This is what I want to be.

I’m not going to let this woman slip away from my life. She’s too awesome for words. She’s inspirational. She makes me want to be a better me. I am going to try to learn from the things she shares and suggests, and try to make myself better, stronger, a little bit at a time.

I apologize, in advance, to my family and friends. In the last few years, with the unemployment and negative shit that has bombarded me from all sides, I lost myself. But today… things have changed.

The Witch is back.

I’m exhausted before I even start.

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…

Weirder, and weirder, and weirder still…

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.

Now I’m afraid to drive.

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.

I’m never moving again.

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.

If silence is golden, I’m a rusty nail.

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.
Nevermind.

Heavens to Murgatroyd

It has been a month since I last posted. That’s terrible! I can admit to being completely distracted and bogged down by JavaScript and PHP, both languages I wish I never had to learn. I think it’s safe to say that I’ll never be a back-end developer. If anyone were to hire me for that purpose, I’d probably break the internet. Billions would be at a loss as to how to communicate, since cursive writing isn’t being taught in schools anymore. It would be complete and utter anarchy. It might even create a second ice age, wiping civilization, as we know it, out completely.

Okay, well, maybe not quite that dramatic, but I’d suck.

Not much else has happened in the last month, other than my boyfriend trying to kill me with his shoes, and then being attacked by a rabid trampoline. Other than that, it’s been quiet. My boyfriend claims he’s not… he says he’s far more subtle than an obstacle course in the dark that I am unaware of, but I’m keeping my eyes open, just in case. He does write horror, after all.