20090217

Dead Version of Him

So this morning, as I wait for others to get to the office, I will write my daily blog. The problem with getting to work early is that often when things need to be done by others, I must wait. Anyway, so I had a lot of thoughts about what I wanted to write about today, so in my most awful penmanship, I jotted them down.

For starters, when I walked in today, I had to weave through a massive crowd of athletes all waiting to climb the stairs of my building. Here at Met. Square, is this crazy thing called, Master the Met, where individuals climb the stairs to the 42nd floor. Yea, I briefly thought about doing it, but when exercise without the stair climbing makes my knee swell to the size of a cantaloupe, I think maybe I should avoid this obstacle in life! So to the elevators I go, "Elevator going up"!

So speaking of hellish things like stair climbing, last night I had some nightmares. Actually two nightmares, but the same one twice (if that made sense). The basic premise of the dream is that my father killed my grandparents, chopped up their bodies and put them in a clear plastic trash bag stuffed in a closet in the basement of my house. Well in my dream the house that was "mine", was actually my family's (we're a happy family; me, mom, and dad) but actually took place in what is today my grandfather's house. In the dream, the guy who was my father was the dead version of him, the guy from the casket anyway. My mom was herself, but young like in her photos. My older brother and I were as we are today, but my younger brother was small, like 3 or 4, when I used to take care of him in those family crises that meant my older brother and I would sneak, with baby brother to the car (sweet Nova), get into the back seat, slink down real low and hide! Anyway, that's a whole different nightmare I called reality that doesn't get discussed; so in the dream, I find out that my father did this and I have to get my brothers out of the house so they don't find out. Well I don't know how the dream ended in this version, but the smell was very real, and awful. I cried a lot in this version of the dream, imagine that, I cry a lot all the time! In the second version, the basic same thing happened, but I had to tell my mom what happened and show her the body parts. I had to sneak us out of the house, I had to get clothes for everyone, I had to get our valuables. At the end, before calmly walking out the door, I told my dad not to take all of this personally, that he would always be my daddy, no matter how old I was. I got in my car with family and things in tow and started to drive off when my older brother jumped out of the car to get, of all things, the hose! By this point we were fleeing for our lives so I had to run out and help him as fast as I could and I was falling and trying to move without being able to do so. I was wakened by my alarm, so I'll never know how that dream ends, thankfully.

Since I woke up with what felt like little sleep because of nightmares, I got dressed half asleep. What was I thinking, red and white striped socks with pink and gray plaid loafers. Really what was I thinking??!!??!! Anyway in addition to my "getting ready soap box", I realized as I brushed my teeth, that I will be a really overburdening mother. I'll always be saying things like "stand up straight", "tie your shoes", "eat your food", "take your medicine", "stop slouching", "squeeze the toothpaste from the end of the tube", "pull the shower curtain out to dry", "clean up your mess", "wipe up your crumbs" . . . . etc. That could a really frightening thing to do to another human being. Poor children! Speaking of moms and children, I'd like to wish my preggo friend Rachel a speedy recovery. Such an enigma she is indeed!

Okay, so I've written a lot already, so I'll save the following topics for another day this week, the apocalypse (and my preparedness), Mardi Gras, Teaching at SIUE, and guitars (redemption song and crazy little thing called love).

I'd like to give you the word of the day and finish this with a tiny list of small things that make me happy.

tramp stamp: A tattoo above a woman's ass crack. In use: Her pants were so low cut, you could see her tramp stamp

A few of my favorite things:
-The sound of a guitar, more specifically when you can hear the finger glide along the strings of a guitar.
-Lyrics, especially the kind that mean something to you
-Being so sleepy that there is no lying awake thinking and staring
-The way Listerine kills germs, and anything inside the mouth, I'm amazed I still have a tongue!
-My favorite T-shirt, the Airstream T-shirt!

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