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.