The 70's Carpet

I dreamed of a movie theatre where behind every screen there was a garishly decorated Ferris wheel. My dad got on one and I had to be excited for him.

Visiting someone, she said, "I'm sorry you have to experience the old carpet down there."  And upon reaching the basement, I found the carpet to be very agreeable and attractive, retro and well-kept.  It looked Brady Bunch but it was so inoffensive that I just really felt bad for my hostess for being so self-conscious!

But perhaps that is the job of the hostess. 

I went to Teavana and visited my friends and they made me a cup of tea! Blueberry pineapple.

I dreamed that I had taken video footage of my sister swimming around as a mermaid and that my teacher and classmates got to see it. 

Now, my sister has beautiful hair. She wears it all up for her job, but take her to a bar and she'll let it all down. It will cascade in honey-colored waves as she sways her head to fluff it out. 

As a mermaid, though. Her hair was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that makes me wonder if humans should live underwater instead of on land, because it floats and flows with a grace and levity and, well, fluidity, that it lacks in air. As soon as one surfaces from the water, hair becomes sticky seaweed plastered down over a person's head. Oh, that we could be merpeople. 

You know that moment, though, when you walk slowly down an incline into a body of water and it gets deeper and deeper and it climbs higher and higher on your body until even your face is submerged and only the crown of your head is left dry?  You pause a moment, and then slowly lift your feet from the bottom and let your body bring your head slowly and smoothly underwater. The feeling of the cool water slowly closing over your head is like none other. Like a door closing between worlds, almost - something that you can't notice if you go too fast. 

I had a thought today at work that I really wanted to blog about. And heavens to Betsy, I can't remember it. I have so many good thoughts I can't write down during work. 

I got a book out of the library called "the hipster handbook" or something, but it was published in 2001, over ten years ago, so what I'm reading is almost sure to be obsolete material. But now I'm starting to want to call things "deck" instead of "cool!"

Ocean

It smells like the ocean on the mall's parking garage today.  I think it's because all of the snow is melting and the salt that maintenance put down is sort if dissolving and creating an inland seabreeze. It made me smile.

I remember when I used to walk my neighbor's dog and he would sniff at random spots on the ground.  When it snowed, though, everything was made clear.  Suddenly, his nose would be following the tracks of small animals and other dogs! He would sniff at the yellow snow that otherwise would just be normal-looking grass.  It was an epiphany.

I could see with my eyes what he saw with his nose.

My friend can swim a 32-minute mile. She is superwoman.  I am friends with with superwoman.

That is all.

 

Polite E-mails

I am a college student who needs help with finding housing.  Off-campus was difficult for me to handle, so I am hoping to select a room on-campus.  Easy?  Of COURSE not!

The point of this post is to say that there are two emails in almost every situation:  the one you want to send and the one you do send.

This is the one I want to send:

Dear Housing,

I went to your office SEVERAL weeks ago on November 6th in hopes of meeting with someone in person about selecting housing for the 2014 spring term.  I had been meeting with a professor and had been in the neck of the woods.  I normally live an hour away.  I am a returning second semester sophomore looking for on-campus housing.

I was stonewalled by your two student employees, saying that everything opens up on "January third."  I asked several questions, to which the only answer was, "January third."

According to tonight's research, they should have been telling me "January 2nd."  And they should have let me know that student self-assign has been open since November 25th and my chances for getting any type of room on-campus have been dwindling daily.  I really would have appreciated meeting with a person who could have given me this information and perhaps walked me through the steps on the website.

I am very disappointed by the dismissive and inaccurate service I was given by these two ladies.  If I am wrong in any way, please correct me and I apologize for me forwardness.

In any case,  I have found these instructions for how to self-assign a room:

(Insert paragraph here) I chose not to put the instructions here because I don't want people to google instructions and find this.

I am ready to make any deposit necessary and to follow these instructions; however the Temple website does not have the layout that this paragraph claims that it has.  For example, I do not see a "student" tab and when I click on "My Housing," the promising-looking links lead nowhere in the direction that this paragraph claims.  There are no instructions about how or where to pay the deposits online, except the assurance that one can make them online.  As I'm sure you may expect, I am quite frustrated with the deceptively happy-go-lucky "this is easy" format of the housing how-to PDF document.

Would you please be willing to help me as soon as you can?

My telephone number is 

I appreciate that you will take into consideration that I made a physical effort much earlier than today to obtain housing information, albeit a thwarted attempt. 

Thank you,

Danielle Hyde

Well-worded, articulate, taking advantage of the customer-is-always-right policy.

My dad wouldn't even read it. 

"You want these people to help you, right?"

Oh.

This is what I'm going to write:

Dear housing,

I am a returning blah blah blah...

I have been doing some research to try and self-select but keep running into confusion! I must be doing something wrong and I really need your help with this.  Could you call me as soon as possible? I'd love to speak with someone in person to get my scatterbrained in order.

Sincerely,

Danielle

Something suck-up-ish like that.

Sara Bareilles (not sure of spelling) has written a song about speaking up for oneself: "say what you want to say, and let the words fall out; honestly, I want to see you be brave" etc.  I like her song and wish my dad would've said, go for it, girl!  

But it actually would have scared me if he did that because it wouldn't be typical and then I'd feel like I was losing my father, like the wise and logical man was slipping away.  Then I would have to make the choice for myself to not "say what I want to say."

Sleepless

Unable to sleep, I will now provide information on what happens when I do sleep.  Namely, last night.

I was in Africa

Driving up the steepest of hills

As if the city of Narok was trying to keep me out. 

I got up the scary hill and was in a shopping center 

(That was not real from any memory)

I began spinning uncontrollably

Unable to look at anything up close

Knowing that I was just reviewing a memory 

Or a conglomerate of memories

I couldn't read signs as my mind raced from one thing to another to try and save me from knowing I could not see the details.

There was a circular hotel

Or hostel

It some nice girls there

Some girls I know from school too

The carpets were red.

The parking garage was a maze.  

I had entered from the pale green-painted shopping center

and was immediately wading through rust-red sand or something,

Waist deep.

Two men could not help me get out.

They only brought me to the interior.

I saw one bedroom

And remember wishing I could stay and become friends with all of the nice girls there.

There was a part where I was with a couple with a special child, looking for a home for him, and he was acting rowdy around the waterfall, and that's how we came to the next part.  Or perhaps it wasn't that at all.  It may have been a water acrobat or a shipping segment. 

There was a roller coaster that started above a body of water

It ran above a field of sugarcane which was already cut and peeled and ready to eat. 

Someone remarked on the health benefits of this

kelly green and white 

sugarcane.

The body of water became a pond.  

I was part of a group, like in missionary group, and the ride became crowded

They put up barriers in front of my car so that I and my sitting partner could neither move nor sit up straight

I felt like the man I saw in Kenya

Riding on a motorbike

Squished

Behind a flimsy 4'x8' sheet of plywood. 

They'll carry anything on a motorbike in Kenya. Goats, too.

I had an opportunity to get out;

Someone was doing a photo shoot

About people 

In trees 

In cities

And in the dream

I was mildly afraid of clinging

Koala-like

To a tall tree.  

But it wasn't my turn to get out of the coaster train thing,

And I was corrected. 

There was a big tripod involved that people climbed in.  

They ended up posing in trees in the pond.

When the train became a car, and I could sit up again, I learned tht the water had been very warm.  

It confirmed my suspicions

That ponds are warm places

Just like kiddie pools.

In the car, a girl I remember from little kid church was there.  

There was some memory she told me about where I had done her wrong.

The car's driver was a cool guy I'd never met. 

It was a dark gray SUV.  

I think we were going to take more pictures or else we were in the church youth group mentality that we were going on some retreat.

Another night I dreamed I was in Africa along with my house from the states and there was a flood and I was stuck outside my slider door with an alligator/crocodile coming toward me. I got in and you could see its body through the glass door as if our house was inside an aquarium (because of the flood).

There was a strange number at the school dance about bullying and artificiality where a lot of girls turned their dresses inside out to represent true beauty. 

There was an art teacher who brought in many of her own loose watercolors for her students to work on and alter, but there was a grief surrounding them.  She had cropped them to squares because her husband had died and he had been in all of the paintings and she didn't want her students to see that part of her.

Back to last night:

I ended up being separate from the group in the back of a truck in Africa with many Africans 

Going somewhere.

We were stopped by an ambulance

But determined that the boy on the mattress in our truck 

With some unnamed ailment

Would get help faster without ems interference.

We were running from something.

We got out of the truck into someone's house and hid as best we could.  I was with a little girl. As we hid, I found some beads for a piercing decoration that someone else had left behind.

I started to take them

But left them, realizing that 

The person might come back

Or the person was caught by the bad guys and that this was a sign.

After the "all clear"

I was caught and humiliated by the nameless bad guy.  

I think everyone else got away.  

He made me read and comment on programs/brochures about ballet movies 

As his staff looked on.

There was also a part about a young man overcoming his violence,

Resisting the allure of an evil temptress,

And doing his childhood mentor 

(Which happened to be a sort of flower with a gnome face that pops up when you least expect it) proud

All at this party inside a building made of psychedelic mushrooms (not the drugs haha)

There was this part where a boy was standing in the water with his mother and crying on her shoulder with a time lapse, so it shows him growing up and continuing to cry on her shoulder

(I think because the government made him go deaf or something). But then he is healed somehow and all of a sudden the mother is crying on his shoulder because he must go and avenge the government. There is something about airplanes and terroristic plots.

He grew up in a golden-yellow landscape. 

Somehow the airplane scandal may have led to falling into water which led to the pond scene. 

I am uncertain. 

Maybe this is why I don't read books that much anymore.

They make too much sense.

You're a Ten

Today at work there was a couple I found leapord-print pumps for in the back of the store.  The woman walked out of the fitting room to show her husband a green dress with the shoes and she looked good.

I found out later that she was unsure of the lace-ish long-sleeved sheath-ish dress because, said her husband, her comfort zone was wrap dresses.

She should have no comfort zone.  She had an awesome body.

But I heard her husband say this wonderful, adorable, enviable, remarkable thing to his wife: " you're a ten already, and now, if you could go above a ten, you'd be a 10.5."

Squeeeaallll!  

I want a man who thinks I'm a ten.five!

Today, I also scared a customer by laughing all by myself at a retarded song really loudly. 

And then I laughed really hard when I got into the parking lot when I saw that my car was the only one with a mysterious inch of snow still on the hood and roof. Can you spell lazy?

The meds must be working with all this laughing.

Did you know that if you put ranch on dry fried rice it makes it taste like a burrito?

The end.

It's Always Funny when Someone Steals Baby Jesus

What?

It is!

My mom works at a store that sells manger scenes and tells of when boxes are returned with no Jesus. 

I guess that's what you call black humor.

Kind of like this picture I saw once with a hopscotch course drawn right over the edge of a tall building.

HA!

Or sometimes at my house we have to glue baby Jesus' head back on.

But that's enough of that. I'm  starting to feel I've crossed that blurred line between humor and sacrilege.

Especially since I'm writing this on a Sunday.

P.s.  When the little child says to the king "do you hear what I hear? A child, a child, shivers in the cold etc. etc." the king responds by telling the people everywhere: "listen to what I say - the child the child, shivers in the night, he will bring us goodness and light, he will bring us goodness and light."

Well,

Folks,

Sorry to burst the happy bubble but I don't know of any king that was happy to hear of a new king being born.

In FACT, 

King Herod pulled a pharaoh and had all the baby boys killed!

No goodness and light. 

Sorry.

Had to set the record straight.

Pretty song though.

I do sing along to it. 

Dream Day

I'm praying the snow melts in front of my co-workers' cars as they drive home.

I have to pee.  As I wait for my dad, the expert driver, to arrive and transport me home, I listen to the out-of-place cheery mall music still playing an hour after the mall is closing and think about how in the days of Versailles, even the king would pee in the corners of the building.  I guess evaporation would take care of it.  But for me that would be unacceptable.

And very strange-feeling.

Makes me think of the banana training video where "if you suspect a body fluid of any kind, immediately notify your supervisor." Like, if you're trying on pants and you just can't hold it any longer.  

Today I slept all day. I couldn't help it.  My mind was full of dreams.  

I dreamed of

Jane and Lorraine

Them shopping

Being a dog

Telepathically receiving signals to run a course

Vague African friends

A wood frame

Volunteering to fix power tools

Aunt Jennie 

Being in the hospital

Cousin corie had a sick daughter

I was on crutches

The crutches malfunctioned

I was touching the cowling

Dad and a strange 

but friendly

man 

got me down

A wooden boat anchor doubled as a chair in the waiting room

The showers of a college dining facility lacked soap and had small curtains,

They became a pool with any levels

Wading

Walking on water

Playing pool

The water room sanctuary became the hospital

We left the hospital all at once except for two girls who had borrowed my blanket.  I saw it hanging over the outside wall of the hospital building and ran back in to get it; that was when I suspected corie's daughter had breast cancer and when my crutches stung me into the air.

I dreamed of staying with an Asian woman who had married a white man.

I spoke to her daughter about being multi-racial.

I their driveway was steep but the lady assured me that even in the snow it is fine.

I was left in the car and had toove it for someone.

It started sliding back and I didn't know what to do!  The lady came back just in time.  The people in the backseat have brake pedals, too, and they have to press them down. 

I dreamed of a spiritual meeting where everyone stood

In a 

Circle

And spoke in tongues.

I had to do an obstacle course first and everyone laughed at me because I did it 

wrong. 

There was a roller coaster and I wasn't allowed off it for a while because there was something

Wrong

With the way I was riding. 

I couldn't speak in tongues.

I hurried out.

There was a jewelry stand in a corner on the way out that popped out if I wanted; I looked at that a lot.

I was riding with my friend and the curves in the road were 

Insanely

Tight.

I dreamed of a building

Where

You had to climb patriotic-colored sand to get in and I had more trouble than everybody else.

I dreamed of sitting on the back of a train with a man I know and kissing him in the dark.

I dreamed of a house with a ghost in it.

I dreamed of a church set up like British parliament in the old days, with benches facing each other.  I snuck out because the light was dark blue.  The pastor saw me and smiles.  There were lots of difficulties with offering.

I dred about painting chairs with a team of people I knew and didn't. I had lost a chinchilla during an outdoor toy car race and had also lost my family.  

Great sense of loss and anxiety.

I dreamed of a sinking ship or a sinking freight train; I was each investigating officer trapped underneath the cars and struggling to get to air.  

It was very much connected to Ncis, that one. 

I dreamed of cultural dancers in a pared down a narrow street and of joining them 

Because I thought I could

Because I thought I knew the answers.

I remember this image of a dinosaur head

Minus the skin-

An anatomical image. 

Then mom entering my consciousness:

"Danielle, it's five! It's really time!"

When I said I slept all day, I meant it.my shift started at 6 Pm. 

But when I woke up, it was a dream day. My mom put chicken my salad, a rare treat.  I put on a dress my friend gave me and my mom walked by and said, "wow! Looks like it fits you like a glove!"  And it did.  I felt gorgeous all night.

The mall was empty except for the friendliest of customers.  I could run around and straighten all of the clothing I wanted to.  

Even the sale pants.

By the time I was done with them, every pant was fastened exactly the same, every hanger had the logo on the front, and the rack looked like a rainbow of desire instead of a misshapen pile of trousers.

In Kenya, they call all pants trousers.

Even jeans!

On break, I had just enough time to restore my blood sugar to happiness.  My body sang.

It's raining outside.  I love rain.  If nobody gets hurt in it. 

Water Night

Waternight is a song by Eric Whitacre.

I had a dream of walking through chest-deep water with Eric, after abandoning the boat at a shallow section. 

The water was smooth and dark, the colors were all endless purples and blues and grays.  There were trees hanging over our heads.

We had a destination. I knew we would get there. I felt peaceful and all I wanted was more of being together. 

Next I was in an underwater chamber. The roof was made of branches or reeds, the bottom was muddy and pebbly. I could breathe under the water. 

Eric was behind me; he had a ticket stub from our first movie together and it was for me.

But it meant nothing because I couldn't find my ticket stub from the same movie to give to him.  

I searched through the mud at the floor of the chamber over and over and became sad and more sad.  My throat got tighter and tighter because I knew I didn't deserve a stub I couldn't reciprocate.

Tea

Yesterday I met a man whose religion, so to speak, is tea.  Teais a vessel for his spirituality and his connection to God, even though he doesn't want to give God a definition or a name.

I'm ADD so this has nothing much to do with the previous statement except that I compared this man's outdoor, impromptu, public tea ceremonies to performance art.  I think it would be brilliant to actually write the word "gullible" on the ceiling.  I believe the first time someone told me that the word was on the ceiling I fell for it and immediately understood its genius: the very thing on the ceiling that is not really there is the definition of believing that it is.  I was ashamed and deeply affected by my failure to withstand this joke and to actually put the word on the ceiling would have a sort of vindictive quality, like, "see? It was really there all along!  Or at least it's not an impossibility!"

The guy has a tea leaf tattooed on his wrist and wants to be a sort of tea monk in Asia. 

I believe that it is such a precious thing, to have little "romances" with strangers for a few minutes or even hours. Not flirtatious, just, you meet, then you get wrapped up so intensely in each others' words, then you look at the time, and then you never see each other again. 

But you know how if you touch a butterfly, it can change the course of the entire future of the universe? These romances alter both of us in unimaginable and unforgettable ways. 

And guess what: this tea guy? We're still friends. We work in the same mall, after all. Sometimes he makes me tea. (Shhh)

He wants to read about my experience in Kenya if I ever make it through the emotional process of writing it.  So sweet!

Sweet just like that blueberry tea I sampled in the shop ;)

Driving in a Winter Wonderland

It sure was pretty.
Except for the dirty snow on the roads.
I'm trying to think of a name
Or description
Of that color
The color of civilization
Kind of the color of a city from a distance, through a haze.
Brown, grey, kind of like white coffee.

I think of it as a tire wash,
This frozen water surrounding my wheels as they roll slowly through.
Really, it would only have
Cleaning power
If I was the first on the road
And the roads weren't treated.

It is an experience
To drive at parking lot speeds
Along with all other cars
On the highway.
It is as if we have a new camaraderie because of our collective choice to drive by the inch
Instead of by the mile.

I may have ruined some of the cameraderie by taking out my camera and photographing people in cars next to me. I put it on automatic so I wouldn't get in another (more in that later) crash while changing aperture or something.  Therefore, the flash would go off.  I have no idea what this looks like to other drivers, but if they were alarmed and looked over at me, they would see me avoiding eye contact, staring straight ahead, while pointing my camera nonchalantly in their direction.

I have yet to review the fruit of this bored exercise.

I also hit another car.
Yay me.
Going too fast in the fast lane, but of course at the time I just thought everybody else was being too slow.
Then I saw break lights.
Uncle Larry said,
"Plan your stops ahead of time"
So I braked a fair distance away,
At least far enough that I could pull into the median if I couldn't stop.
But instead of going straight and erring to the left if need be, my car decided at that moment to turn right.
"Shit! Shoot! Shit! Shiiiiiiit!"
(Don't tell my dad I said that)
Dad says, "pump the brakes if you lose control."
I pump the brakes.
Duh, doing this is the same as clicking "try to allow computer to self-fix" or "diagnose and solve problem"
It just gives you something to do while you watch your computer's usefulness fade from your grasp, or in this case, it was just a pointless exercise of hopeless hope.
Of "If the roads became dry right now I would still hit this car because I am too close, going too fast; however I might as well pretend that pushing on my brakes the way dad taught me is maybe going to prevent a collision."

I don't know.

But I still have a headache from screaming and crying in my car and purposely banging my head on the steering wheel out of embarrassment and shame and disappointment.

It was an epic meltdown.

Some woman saw my head down and thought maybe I was unconscious.  I was really just hugging the steeeing wheel because I didn't have anyone else to hug.

Mr. Policeman was nice.

The guy I collided with was cute.  My fist thought upon seeing him: "wouldn't it be a great story if we got married as a result of meeting during this incident? "  but he mentioned his girlfriend.

He must have been sensing my find-a-husband vibes.

You never know though.
One day he could call me up:
"I couldn't get your face out of my mind.  I had to break up with my girlfriend because you were haunting me.  please tell me that you'll give me a chance to pursue your heart."

Squeal!

A girl can dream.

Mall music

I'm sitting on the floor against the railing of the top flior of the mall after my shift listening to a small intermediate/beginner band playing Christmas music.  There's something really sweet about kids playing traditional music and making mistakes that's so genuine; I just had to sit down to enjoy it.

I do have this thing about sitting right on the ledge of the mall floor.  Even though there's a railing, it's like standing on a precipice and a little gust of wind could push me over...and I have dreams about flying in situations like this which is just disconcerting, because what if I have a break with reality and start thinking I can really fly?

I should leave soon.

And also, "a child, a child, shivers in the cold; let us bring him silver and gold" - really you should bring him blankets.  Just saying.  Metal conducts heat, it doesn't insulate.

Aw, now they're playing silent night! Thank you, God, for blessing my day with this.

Thank you also for blessing my day with that big shipment box filled with one pair of socks.  Your world is filled with many blessings.

Retail

Saturday, I wore high heels
like I always do.
But lots of people told me
I should be in pain
And it was a long shift
And my body hurt the next day.

Moral of the story:

I don't have enough flat shoes
and it is a
Legitimate
need
(For my health, for my work)
Therefore I must go and buy more.

Goodwill calls to me.
It has not called in a long time.
I thought I had everything I needed.

Apparently not.

Plato's closet also calls.

The stores' cries like
Those
Of a siren at sea
Or in marsh creek
Are impossible to ignore.
After one o'clock, they will be bombarded by...
me.

Glitter

I've dreamt of glitter.
Last night
I was glitter and throwing it in the air
to attract butterflies
Or to feed them
And of course the glitter was
gross, mixed
Every color together
Like the glitter glue I made in real life.

(I also dreamt of a beautiful three-layer cake that failed in various ways and turned into a gymnastics contest)

(Before I forget, a few nights ago I dreamed my parents were renewing their vows. My mother was wearing dad's mom's dress - which looks nothing like hers in real life - an off-white many-transparent-layers piece. There was am old-fashioned carriage and my dad's dad was there to take me to the bathroom in a sort of 1800s-ish restaurant with friendly staff who didn't mind if we weren't customers. I also f eamt of a boxing ring-likr structure with little men, hundreds of them, lining the ropes and bars, red grey and blue to match the surface they were on.  They had to move at one pont.  I became one of them and began cursing because although they were having no trouble,  I could not keep my balance. )

I dreamed of glitter again
just now
It was a nightmare
Sophie came from africa and found me
She braided my hair even though i had work the next day
I went to school
She followed me
Suddenly glitter was dropping everywhere from my hair
And students were making mean commments about me getting braided in school.
I am in Eric's car.
Eric hates glitter.
I am in the backseat
Maybe he won't notice
The boy who was next to me in class is next to eric.
Eric is driving on the right side of the car like they do in kenya.w
This boy's desk was covered in glitter.
He tells eric about my glitter hair.  Immediately Eric checks all the functions of his car.
He is afraid the glitter has cursed them.
He is satisfied.
When we were together,
He would check the functions of his car before he would check my functions.
I realized that
In my dream
And it was true in the dream
And in real life
And it hurt.

Just a little ride!

We're driving fom Exton
To Lancaster.
This is a one-hour-long drive.
I was ready about an hour ago.
My dad just said,
"I should've turned the porch light on."
I said,
"Can we please just go? "
"excuse me? "
I realized I had just been impatient and disrespectful so, "I didn't say anything, sorry."

I'm not super-in-a-hurry to get to grandma's house, and I'm often quite a late person.  But when I'm ready to go, I'm ready to GO.

I think it's because I'm tardy so often and I jump at the chance to be early, or it could be that I just enjoy feeling annoyed at others who aren't ready yet because usually they're the ones yelling at me that it's time to go, to get up, to go.

Or it has been that way in the past.

But I felt that I had never seen my parents this way. My mom would sit down in the car and then say something like, "oh! Sunglasses!" And she'd have to go back in and get them.  And dad's usually the one in the car scoffing at us ladies for not being ready, but he was nowhere to be seen.

I don't know when we left but I doubt we'll make it when we said we would.

The amount of work it took to get going was disproportionate to the length of the trip.  We're not going to Alaska! Screw the sunglasses! Screw the cats! Let's hit the road!

That said, I like being in the car with the two of them because I like to listen to the two of them talk faintly over the road and engine noises.  It's comforting and it makes me feel very at home.

Squirrel

First of all, when people call humor "tongue-in-cheek," it never really bothered me and I kind of got what it meant until I read on the back of a book, "you will laugh with your tongue placed firmly in your cheek throughout the duration of this work."

What?

Am I actually supposed to anatomically do this while I'm laughing at smartaleck humor?

I think not. The blurb-writer was just trying to be original.

But I really wish I knew where that term originated.

The real reason for this post is to commemorate the life of the poor squirrel lying on the busy road halfway between my home and work.

It has taken several days of passing him for the passion to build up inside me enough to write about it.

Each day the squirrel becomes a little flatter; it becomes a little less squirrel and a little more a part of the road.

I tuought there were people who took care of roadkill in this country! This is Amurica!

Its poor body decays in front of my eyes. It reminds me of Ayn Rand's words in the fountainhead about the countless things ground into the new york city sidewalks by the feet of millions.  Jewels, even. There will be a day when even its shadow will be bleached by the sun.

How many poor rodents have undergone the same fate? Undignified decay, in full view of us furless monsters in our noisy machines.

This situation also makes me feel a little more hesitant about eating things off the ground.

Did you know people run over baboons in Kenya because sometimes people throw them food and so they come close to all vehicles.  I think it's sadder than squirrels dying because we don't have baboons in amurica.  But then again, they don't have our kind of squirrel in Kenya, DO they?

One Sweet Day...

One sweet day, someone will plant a camera in my car and discover three things: (1) my wit and endearingly quirky habit of self-conversation/polite conversation with other drivers (2) my excellent and dynamic singing voice, and (3) the way I so skilfully harmonize with all of the songs I know. 

They may also notice my immaculate taste in music. And my really cool car dance moves which show off my good sense of rythm.

And my ability to usually stay in the correct lane and not drive into oncoming traffic while changing radio stations or spotify playlists.

All in all, I will be discovered as the next slightly-off-kilter singer/personality/talk show host/model of the moment. Eventually my other talents will be discovered and the public will warm to me exponentially.

It's so silly; I act as if someone's warching me while I'm in my car - as if I'm on an audition for something.

And the truth is, I sing about 40 percent of the harmony correctly, my high notes are painful, my responses to radio hosts and other drivers are unoriginal, and my inability to cooperate with my gps is just sad.

I really should just be happy being in my car. Unless pretending the world is watching and my life is a musical makes me happy!

I think it does.

That "my life is a musical" part hit me. I think that's what I like about dreaming I have an audience.

And who doesn't want an epic life? I think that's okay.

Other christmas songs

KThere is a version of "all I want for christmas is my two fron teeth" that plays and
(1) my coworker and I noticed the singer has no lisp so it doesn't actually sound like he needs his front teeth
(2) the singer says it's been a long time since he's been able to say "sister suzy sitting on a thistle" - which is a really mean thing to say and something describing a situation that does not occur in real life often  enough to matter whether one is able say it or not.

There's something in a song about doing something the way the eskimos do it. I seriously doubt the sonwriter studied the ways of the eskimos, and putting the name of a people group in a cute song without their permission is somewhat politically incorrect (if we're going to care about being politically incorrect).

When songs talk about sleigh bells and sleigh rides, I pause and think about how rare sleigh rides are in my neck of the woods.  Perhaps they exist elsewhere?

It bothers me when contemporary singers try to make old classics all cool by chanhing up the rythm and the words.  It throws me off and makes me feel like an idiot when I'm singing along and mess up.  Maybe it sounds bad, or maybe I don't like sounding like an idiot.

I got to take my 15-minute break just as the "santa bring my baby back to me" song came on. And I just felt the hand of the almighty God on my life.

Today I want to wish everyone a happy peaceful restful blessed sunday afternoon.

Don't know if that's overdoing it.

Christmas Songs

At my job, it is midway through November and we have put the Christmas music on, because that is what we're supposed to do.

I worked four hours today.

After only four hours, I was ready to scream.

It was reminiscent of the situation at another job where I had to listen to "Halloween" music on a 30-minute loop and therefore had to listen to "let's do the [*$@#*&*] time warp again" - again and again. It was at a children's tgeme park and I had trouble keeping my language in check.

The Christmas music doesn't seem to be getting to anyone else.  But they must have at least five versions of "White Christmas" and their "Drummer Boy" doesn't even include oxes and asses!  Other problem songs:

"Santa, please bring my baby home for chrismas" - this may sound innocuous, but the woman sang those very words so many times that I began to feel like  I was listening to a Kenyan Christian worahip song, the kind that never changes and never ends.  And I decided that I didn't care about whosever &#/@* baby isn't home unless it's a wife whose husband is serving his country or a mother whose child has been kidbapped.  But this woman seemed to be singing just for the #^$*@)!^# sake of singing.

"If only everyone else in the world could feel this way" - the singer here wants everyone to feel the goodwill and peace that comes with Christmas. This song is stupid. Mushy feelings brought about by nostalgia and bright lights at night won't do anything for grief, greed and evil and perversion.  Everyone deserves to be loved, even enemies. If only perpetrators and victims could come together in love and forgiveness and nations could unite in love and compassion wirhout an agenda, and if people would hug their strange neighbors whether they like them or not. That's what Jesus taught.  Not what vague Christmas-y feelings will bring.  Also, love peace and joy should last all year long all over the world.  But the more I write, I mean, that was a nice sentiment.  I hope the dude who wrote the song never reads this. 

"So this is Christmas" - I walked out of the store as this song began and started talking to it: "no! This is in fact not Christmas! It's not even thanksgiving! So don't sing this self-pitying song until the holiday acually happens!

Just because I work at a store doesn't mean I think it should immerse its customers in Christmas while there's still anither holiday to be had!

I also reflected today on the idea that "I've got some corn for popping" might be a good one to use on guys trying to escape from my house.  And I bever thought of it as a particularly wintry snack.  But after hearing that song many (many) times today, perhaps it is! It is warm, after all. 

Also, "as long as you hold me tight, all the way home I'll be warm" IS A LIE.  I will be warm in your arms but as soon as I'm out of them I will be cold with only the memory of being warm.

Oh yeah - and that lady asking Santa for her baby back? Santa can't do anything about that.  I would suggest she talk to Jesus about that.

I suppose it's safe to say I hate Christmas music.

Camel

"Hey remember that time when I would only smoke
Maaaaalboros
Hey remember that time when I would only smoke
Caaaaaamels
Hey remember that time when I would only smoke
Paaaaarliments?
Hey remember that time when I was broke?
I didn't care I just bummed from my friends."

-Regina Spektor sings those words in her song
"That Time"
and I just thought of them as I looked at the ugly dromedary atop my set of drawers.

I can hold it easily in the palm of my hand.
My friend was about to get rid of it, and I could not bear to see it in the trash.
It is a dull gold,
pointless
and lonely with
little
decorative
colored
bumps on it - like jewels.

It has become part of the landscape of my room:
too heavy
to become part of a painting and
too small
to have any decorative impact.

Perhaps I should give him a home
Find a friend for him
give him a name
And he could regain his dignity
And his beauty
And I would think of my sister's
Gorgeous camel-like eyelashes
Instead of cigarettes
When I look at it.

Sleep all Day

I had a little project planned
for after my nap
But I ended up sleeping
Persistently
until it was night
And all I could do was get up
Eat pb&j
(No "real food" for me tonight)
Take my pills
And back to bed.

No dreams haunted me as I did this.

Dreams,
I strongly believe,
Are my brain working hard to help me sort through everything that happens to me while I am awake.
I hope that my brain was just
Shy, bashful
This time and didn't want to show my wakeful self
what it came up with
as my body lay
For hours
On that
Complicated rectangle
Of foam and springs.

Perhaps I needed the sleep
because my brain needed
extra time
to convince
my sleeping conscious mind
that my job is wonderful
(-remember, self? It is.)
Because I'm screwed
if I choose to hate it
And let it upset me.

I pray that it would come
To bring me joy
Wonderment
Thankfulness
And the feeling that there really are things to smile about.

For sake of posting

It is possible to eat 12000 calories in a day.
You can make sushi without seaweed.
Corn tortillas can ruin a taco if you decide they're gross.
Those dang stairs sneak up out  of nowhere...
But it's no big deal when I've got a friend to hoot with
I laughed good and hard at at least three commercials today - it's sometimes worth it to ponder the commercials.
The verizon guy today named Sam was a friend.
the last verizon guy was a disappointment.
I don't care that the droid is better.
I want an iPhone.
My friend can drink salsa.
I thought I knew what all the kinds of soap dispensers were.
But tonight I found a new one.

Vague Panic

Escape from house
into dark snowy landscape
But
just beyond the snowy treeline
there may be
something coming

People have been here before
They did not survive
The snow has grown around me
Into soft, insurmountable walls
I find their memory card
I guard it and hope
Their mission has not all been in vain

Inside my own bedroom,
I hide my card and theirs carefully
In plain sight
among the items in the "I-spy" scene that is my room
In a bag
They will never look there.

They must not have it.
I see in comic-strip format
Images of bad men
chasing a young girl
All around her house
Forcing her onto her roof
Like on an episode of "flashpoint"
I saw once

She was a brave, strong girl.
I want to be like her.
Am I her?
Was that her in the snow,
saving the memory cards?
Because that was me.
I want to be brave and strong.

Spitting out teeth

Another dream:
There was much more content,
But importantly,
I was at my job
My boss
(Who was not really my boss)
Had just refused to hug me back
And my teeth began to fall out.
I hurry to the back
and spit them into a ... something
Toilet-sink combo
It is as if I spat out a mouthful of corn.
I try to clean up around the edges but fail.
The store where I work is so unfamiliar outside the breakroom.
My soul is all twisted up and upset
And I say, hey - I never spit out teeth when I'm awake! Only in dreams!
And I desperately pound the dismal walls of the room crying "let me wake up! "

And guess what?

I woke up. In my bed, I sighed relief.
Banana Republic was no longer selling cosmetics and fragile vases in dimly-lit rooms.
It no longer had a strange graffiti-lined hallway with restrooms for rowdy guests.
I had all my teeth.

And I was becoming worthy of Inception.

Next I want my brain to recognize that I'm dreaming when I'm unable to control my movements or to stop moving. Uncontrollable spinning and swooping is unpleasant and to wake from it and experience stillness would give me a huge sense of relief and a growing sense of power.

It's true that I spend a lot of time asleep, but for me sleeping can be hard work.

algeic dream

First post, the ultimate facebook status.
Tell the world what you want to say,
Whenever you want,
Because you feel like it,
And they can listen
But they can also not listen.  Which is good.

I dreamed of trees and vines in a hazy world
A handsome teacher in a one-room schoolhouse
with an old picnic table outside and mossy algeic ground surrounding.
I left the other students inside and sat by myself at the table,
then began planting shoots of the vines in glass jars.

The schoolhouse had fresh white pine flooring.

The dream turned to one about a field trip,
going down many stairs with my choir teacher,
high school aquaintances,
balancing on ledges without railings,
floors covered in pink and blue pool noodles.
Martial arts,
two students in a room who were training on surf boards, somehow.