Bats in the Belfry

Well. Its been a while since I've posted anything here. Part of the problem is that I don't feel like I have much to say. The other part of the problem is that I'm positive no one reads this blog. I haven't told anyone that I have it because I want to be able to say whatever I want, whenever I want to do it, without repercussion. I suppose, though, that in order to get readers, people have to know it exists in the first place. I'll work on that. Maybe.

In other news, there was/is a creature in my attic, or maybe its in the walls, and it SQUEAKS and SQUEAKS and is completely freaking me out. Pretty sure its a bat, since we've had bats in the attic many times before. Its annoying, for sure, but in the summertime, it doesn't bother me too too much. However, its cold as shit outside right now, and there's snow everywhere, including all over the roof, so I'm guessing the little dude is stuck and unable to figure out how to get outside, so its panicked and wandering aimlessly around the attic, squeaking its poor, little bat head off. (Side note, it had stopped squeaking for the last hour or so, but I just heard it start up again! WAH!)

I suppose I have a couple of options here. First, I could try to ignore it and just let it die up there (and then rot, in my attic, which is really no more than a couple feet of open, unusable space between the acoustic, drop ceiling tiles, so GROSS). Or, I could remove one of the tiles, get the step stool out and hope it figures out how to fly down into the house, whereupon I would catch and release it. But I would have to release it outside, into the extreme, snowy cold, where it would still die a horrible, cold, sad death. Either way, I can't save it. So I guess I'll leave it.

More Strange Slumber

Last night, there were two more weird dreams. Actually, I dreamed several times last night, but two of them were bizarre and not fun at all. The first was a sort of recurring one that I have once in a while. It's always a little different, but the heinous part is always the same--my entire world is INFESTED with spiders. This one took place in my house, but it wasn't quite the same as it is now (common amongst dreams, I think, and so strange). It was a little bigger and the north and south side each had huge picture windows in them, out of which I could see a forest and the side of a hill on the north side, though the south side was the same as it normally is, I think. It must've also been a duplex because there was a certain spot that creaked and groaned a lot when someone upstairs walked over it. Dude and I shared the bedroom (that is actually our spare bedroom) and my mom lived in the other bedroom. So yeah, my boyfriend and I were living with my mom. Awesome. Anyway, out of my mom's picture window, we saw three or four huge, brown bears meandering through the forest. They didn't scare us at all, though, and I think that's because we were completely preoccupied with the SPIDERS. There were literally thousands of them. The top of the curtains over each picture window were black with spiders. Every corner was black and they dangled in my face from webs on the ceiling. They were all over the floor and crawling all over the walls. They were in our beds and all over the furniture. They were all sizes; from tiny and relatively normal looking to palm sized, neon and hairy. Most of them were all black with spindly legs and huge, fat abdomens with yellow, green, red and blue stripes or spots (you know, the kind of coloring that warns other creatures to stay the fuck away because this guy is poisonous as hell and will KILL you). I was in a constant state of panic. I don't remember any other details, except that right before I woke up, my mom and I were discussing leaving the house for a few days and spider bombing while we're gone.

The next dream happened after I'd woken up and recovered from the spider dream and it was the kind where you know you must be dreaming because there's no way that the insane shit going on could actually be happening in real life, but you can't wake yourself up so you just freak out the whole time. In this one, Dude was wearing the puffy shirt from the infamous Seinfeld episode and had somehow met (maybe through work? or maybe he was a teacher?) a chick in high school and the chick developed a massive crush on him. He was extremely flattered by it, and even though I was fuming, he wouldn't tell her to leave him alone. So she just kept showing up at our house, fawning all over him and pissing me off. At one point, I remember getting her out the door and then shoving her off the steps onto the concrete below. I thought for a second that I'd killed her, but she opened her eyes when I shook her. I don't know if it was her head, her nose or her mouth, but she was bleeding from the face, and I remember feeling very satisfied about that. So then she ran home and came back to my house with her mother. Dude wasn't home anymore then (gone to work, maybe), so I dealt with the two of them by myself. The mom was wearing some nail polish of mine that she said Dude had given her and therefore, they won and I couldn't live there with him anymore. Apparently the nail polish was very significant, because that was the point where I gave up, said, 'Fine, you can have him,' grabbed my purse and left. That must've been the end of that one because I don't remember anything else after that.

The vast majority of the time, I love dreaming. Even when it's something weird or something that would scare someone else, I usually enjoy the hell out of it and would almost always rather go back to the fun dream that get up when I wake up. These were not like that at all, though, and the ones from the previous post were also not dreams I wanted to continue. I really hope this doesn't become a regular thing. I don't want to worry about going to sleep at night.

Dreaming of Weird

The last two nights, I've had utterly bizarre dreams. Here's a real quick re-cap of the main events, just so I don't forget:

1. I already don't remember exactly what led up to the weirdest part of the dream, but I was at my mom's house. There were a lot of other poeple there. Maybe some family, maybes some friends, and maybe some strangers. I was arguing with a man about being inside the house. He didn't want me there, and for some reason, his wishes actually did have some weight. However, there was a woman there who's wishes held more, because she was an official owner of the home. So I was shit talking and generally being fairly rude to this man and told him that if the woman told me to leave, I would, but not before then. She didn't ask me to leave; she and I were on the same side, whatever that meant. So then the man is standing just outside the open door, the woman and I and some others are inside, and the woman picks up a handgun. She's just sort of messing around with it and trying to figure out exactly how it works, I think, when it goes off. The man I'd been snotting off to falls through the open doorway into the house and he's got a small, bloody hole in his forehead. He says something like, Isn't anyone going to call the ambulance? I'm suddenly freaking out and feeling really, really guilty about snotting off to him just minutes before, and wondering if I'll be in any trouble for this accident.

I don't remember anything else about this one, and it's completely clear that regardless of my rudeness, I would obviously not be responsible for shooting the man, but I was terrified nonetheless.

2. This one happened after I went back to sleep from the dream I just described. Again, I don't remember all the details, but I think I remember more than the last one. Somehow, I'd been invited (or maybe I was someone's "plus one," or maybe I was even just a friend of someone working the event) to a huge, fancy, winter wedding. Lots of elaborate, jewel-toned dresses, black tuxes, British accents, gold filigree and champagne. My aunt was there as a guest, but she was sort of in the background for most of it and also provided some of the food because she's a wonderful cook. Before the wedding started, I remember being in the home of someone directly involved with the wedding (I think I was spending the weekend there or something rather than getting a hotel room, which would mean that I was welcome to be there, at least at some point) and there were at least five Persian cats there, all of whom had been dyed to match the dresses, so there were magenta, emerald and navy colored kitties everywhere. I wasn't grossed out by it, though. I remember being surprised at how nice I thought it looked. Fast forward to after the wedding, during the reception. I was in a big, elaborate hotel/event center place where the wedding had been and where all the guests were now partying it up. I was sitting around a big fountain/hot tub thing and there were a bunch of dudes there that were in the wedding or something like that. Somehow, I ended up naked and they were pointing and laughing at me and generally behaving like immature, high school age, asshole boys. Then, out of nowhere, this huge group of bad ass chicks came out, handed me a robe, and proceeded to show off their martial arts skills and kick the asses of every dude there.

And that's all I've got on that one.

3. This one happened last night. One of my best friends from high school was getting married, but his fiance couldn't be at the wedding, so he needed a stand-in. Not sure how I ended up being that person, but I was (and for that matter, I don't know why anyone would ever have a stand-in at their own wedding--I mean, wouldn't you just cancel/postpone it?!). I went through the whole wedding, complete with rings, vows, friends and family, pretending to be the woman he was marrying. I feel like some people knew I was merely a stand-in, but some didn't, so I had to really play up the role. My actual boyfriend and mom were at the reception area, which was at a high school (hilarious) with a huge, indoor soccer/football field and hot tub and outdoor swimming pool. Everyone from high school was there, but few of them would speak to me. They knew I was just a stand-in, and the ones I wasn't real friends with wouldn't even look at me. I wanted to hang out with them and be a part of the group, but I wasn't. That happened to me sometimes for real in high school, so it was a familiar feeling. I eventually saw a photo of the real bride, and was annoyed that she wasn't super attractive but that my best dude friend had fallen for her anyway. She was accomplished in her career, and I knew this only from the fact that I read a snippet about her favorite white business suit. I don't even remember making eye contact with the groom after the vows or getting a thank you for being the stand-in. I woke up feeling like a loser who, in almost 30 years of life, has accomplished nothing.

Two weeks ago, my grandmother died. I don't liked "passed away" or "passed on" or any other sugar coated phrase. She died. She's gone. It sucks really bad, but that's the truth of the matter, and I feel like not sugar coating it is what makes it real.

Gramma was ninety-one years old. She got sick and needed surgery. The surgery was a huge risk, but she was going to die for sure without it, so it was done. She did surprisingly well for a couple of weeks afterwards, but then went downhill and fell into a coma. Not long after that, her children collectively decided to have the feeding tube removed, up the morphine doses and basically just sick back and wait. It took longer than we expected, and there were very most likely some questions about whether they'd made the right decision. No one spoke about that, though, because the decision was made and the deed was done. Four days later, she died. Two of her six children were by her side.

Since I'm still unemployed, I went to my mom's house and stayed for almost a week. We have a big extended family and the majority of them were there for the wake and funeral, which was wonderful, but not at all surprising. Gramma was well loved and touched many, many lives. There was concern that there wouldn't be enough food to feed everyone who showed up for the funeral. The priest was crazy and at times, inappropriate, but we've all known him for many years and kind of expected that. Regardless of that, though, he was a regular presence in Gramma's life, and though she also recognized his senility, she would've greatly appreciated his being there.

The whole thing sucked really, really bad, and it was horrible to see my mom and the aunts and uncles who helped raise me crying and shuddering. However, there was a silver lining, believe it or not. My grandparents had six kids, which in turn led to thirteen grandkids, including myself. I spent a lot of time with my cousins growing up, and we developed some pretty incredible, strong, family bonds. I've always known that, but it's been a very long time since I've spent time with any of my cousins. I did last week, though. Hours and hours, actually, just sitting at Gramma's house, eating, drinking, talking and just being together. It was so utterly wonderful and it put a whole new perspective on my own life. The importance of family was like a punch to the gut. It's not that I didn't understand it before. It's just that I was reminded of how wonderful it is.

I'm nearing thirty. I've always wanted a masters degree. I've always wanted to live outside of the midwest. I've wanted to be a parent. I've wanted a lot of things, and I've spent my entire life talking about it, but doing nothing. My life won't last forever, though, and I'm pretty much out of time to be irresponsible and make excuses. If I want the things I say I want, it's time to make them happen.

So, I've found a grad school. I think I might want to have a baby. I'm totally freaked out that I just typed that sentence. I want to move to the southwest US, but I want to come back to the midwest, because this is where my family is, and I can't bare the thought of raising kids who don't get the chance to know their family.

I'm going to make this shit happen, starting now. And I'm really excited about it!

Sap

I like to say that I'm not normally an overly emotional person, but that's not really true. The truth is that I'm incredibly emotional; I'm just terrified of showing the emotions to anyone. It all comes down to weakness and the fact that I don't want people to think that that's what I am. I'm learning to not worry about that so much. I'm beginning to see that showing all of my emotions, not just the happy or angry ones, only makes me a more complete and real person. I'm thinking about this right now because I just watched a movie that made me cry. A lot. Happy crying, sad crying, incredulous crying...you name it, the movie covered it. It felt good. And it felt even better when my dude came out of the bedroom (because he wasn't interested in watching the chick flick) and I told him about the incessant crying. I'm not sure that I've ever admitted to him that a movie made me cry.

Hobbies

I'd love to know how to sew and have a nice sewing machine with all sorts of fancy options. Which would require that I have a studio of some sort.

I'd also like to be a great roller skater. I used to think derby was the way to go, but it's gotten awfully popular lately. I'd like to just have some skates and a place to use them.

I'd like to learn to cook. I don't want to just follow recipes; I want to look at what I've got and know how to make something delicious.

I'd like to raise animals regularly. I'm horribly sensitive about animals, but I love them and raising them, probably to do farm work of some kind, would help with that and be really rewarding, I think.

I'd like to enjoy strenuous, physical activity, at least to some degree.

I'd like to be an independently wealth and successful artist.

I'm not getting any younger so I suppose I should get to it.

Woe Is Me

It really, really sucks when old flames get married to someone other than yourself, doesn't it? Even when the person he or she marries is awesome and a friend of yours, even when you're in your own (semi-) successful relationship, even when you kind of knew it would happen eventually anyway. Even then, it totally sucks.

I just learned today of the impending nuptials of someone I used to be madly in love with. He was my friend first and foremost, and his pining for me eventually made me pine right back. I was pretty stubborn though, and by the time I was willing to give "us" a chance, it turns out that it was just too late. Everything kind of fell apart after that, and though we're definitely friends again now, we aren't now nor will ever be friends like we used to be. I love the woman he's marrying. She's a true friend of mine and I've said a million times that they're made for each other, and I even meant it. But that still doesn't make my heart any less heavy with the knowledge that it's happening.

However, I have no reason nor right to do or say anything negative about this relationship. God knows that I couldn't be with him as he is anyway. I just miss the attention he used to give to me and the knowledge that I was first for him. The fact that I'm first for the man I'm with now is apparently not enough. Or maybe it's just so different from what I had with the other guy that it can't even compare. I think that's more accurate.

It makes me feel old, lame, small and sad. I don't like feeling this way, but duh, who would? Today has become a shit day and I can't think of any, single thing that would make it better, other than maybe instantly losing about thirty pounds, which will clearly not happen.

Center of Attention

As the title suggests, I love to be the center of attention. I love people watching me and laughing (with me, not at me) and feeling about me what I feel when I watch other people perform. The direct sales business I run from home (which is not related to the job that just laid me off) allows me to stand in front of groups of people and show off. I get to be The Expert and people listen to what I say and take it seriously. I'm told by at least one person at the end of every "party" that I'm great at what I do and they she's learned something new from me. I love telling people what to do and having them not question, but just listen and agree. Yes, I'm a bit of a control freak and I'm rarely wrong (it's true).

When I was a little girl, I used to want to be a singer or an actress (what little girl doesn't want that?), but what I think that really meant was that I just wanted everyone to pay attention to me. Ever since then, when I see someone on a stage, I'm envious. I've tried acting and though it was fun, it's not really my thing. I've always, always wanted to play guitar and sing in front of people, but it took 23 years for me to actually get a guitar and take lessons. It took five more years after that for me to learn to grab my nuts and play where others can hear me. A friend was over one night with his guitar and when he left the room, I picked it up and played a little of what I knew. He totally busted me when he came back and said that if I could do that, I shouldn't be afraid to let others hear. So when he started an open mic night in town shortly thereafter, I started playing. The first couple weeks were horrendous and nerve wracking. I sweated and shook and my voice cracked and my heart pounded so loud, I could hardly hear the "music" I played. The more I did it, the more comfortable I became, though, and while I'm by no means Good now, I certainly don't suck the way I did three months ago. I've found that a couple beers helps (of course), as does simply not thinking about it so damn much before I do it. If I spend hours beforehand practicing and perfecting, it's like there's too much pressure to live up to and I blow it. But if I just relax, pick up the guitar and play, it comes out fairly well. I still have nights where I'm shaky and crappy, but I also have nights where the (small) crowd whistles and screams when I'm done. Those are the nights that I want to play and play, cover after cover (because I definitely don't write anything original) and never stop because the positive attention I'm getting from it feels so damn good.

Sinking

The last couple of days, I've woken up sad. My dreams are more fun than reality and I find myself not wanting to get out of bed. Sure, there're things to do each day, but none of them feel pressing or insistent. Laundry, dishes, cat litter, tidying, taking garbage out...blah. The only good thing about those chores is that they're easy and mindless. There's also direct sales related tasks, dealing with unemployment and applying for jobs. Those things do require thought, and while that doesn't sound like a bad thing, for some reason, it's daunting.

All of it is daunting, and I don't know why. I feel shitty. When I don't have a regular schedule to follow, one that's at least party controlled by someone other than me, I have very little motivation. I'm not smoking, so that's not it. I'm not drinking excessively, so that's not it, either. I'm just feeling shitty.

I need a source of income. I don't want to work in an office because it eats my soul and it's so goddamn common. Nine to five, forty hours per week jobs make me want to kill myself. However, they at least give me responsibilities. I've worked night jobs-bartending, waitressing-and I enjoy those more because I get to interact with people and there's generally a lot more freedom to be who I am. I can only do those jobs for so long, though, before I start getting sick of being up all night and sleeping all day. That makes me feel shitty, too. I don't mind retail jobs at all, but there's not much money in that, and I have to survive. What I really want to be doing is teaching college sociology classes dealing with gender, relationships, cultural differences and sexuality. That won't happen without a master's degree and I'll never be a full time student again because I can't fathom being even further in student loan debt.

I'm afraid that I'm falling into a pit of depression, and that's shitty and scary because I've been there before and it's a horrible, horrible feeling. I'm not there yet, but I feel it coming. I feel lazy and worthless and useless. I'm not accomplishing anything and I'm not earning anything. All I do is clean and tidy my house, which is barely anything at all, especially when it never gets really bad in here in the first place. I don't want to get out of bed in the morning, so I sleep until at least noon, if not later. Every day is starting to feel like just another chunk of time to fill before I can go back to bed and dream. Watching tv passes the time fairly well, so I do a lot of that. I have other things to do, but when I think about them, I feel overwhelmed, so I push it to the back of my mind and think, I'll do it later. But I usually don't do any of it. I just push it aside until it's no longer relevant.

This is a bad, bad way to feel and it leads to sad and self-destructive thoughts. Just DO someting, I tell myself, but when I can't make myself do anything, I feel like even more of a worthless piece of failed shit. This is how I'd felt for months before I got the job that just laid me off. The job was stupid and I didn't enjoy it at all, but it gave me purpose and that made me feel better than I'd felt in a very long time.

This is not good, and I'm afraid it'll get worse before it gets better. If it gets bad enough, I'm not sure I can come out of it. I'm afraid for my sanity and I don't know what do do about it.

Welcome, Fall

October is the greatest month of the year for many reasons, but the top two are, in order of importance, 1) My Birthday, a.k.a. My Own Personal Holiday, and 2) HALLOWEEN!

This year, I'll be 29, and believe it or not, I'm not terrified of turning 30. In fact, all I ever hear about is how women in their 30s are in the prime of their lives. I've heard that sex gets better, for one thing, and that can't be bad. I know that the older I get, I less I want to be younger again. My 20s have been great, but also incredibly confusing in a lot of ways. I'm beginning to recognize and truly enjoy the wisdom I gain with age, as well as the fact that the older I get, the more seriously I'm taken by strangers on the street (or in bars, or restaurants, or stores, et cetera), which in turn gives me more confidence. I'm finally learning to appreciate my health because it's not so obvious anymore. I get incredibly annoyed by kids (kids!) in their early 20s and find myself preferring a quiet night in with friends instead of a crazy night at a house party with strangers.

One thing that hasn't changed with age is the second reason that October is awesome: Halloween! It's my FAVORITE time of year, no contest. I LOVE costumes and the creativity that comes with them. My all time best costume ever was my Miss Piggy costume from last year where I GLUED A LATEX PIG NOSE TO MY FACE. It was epic. I'm going cheap this year and working on what should amount to a fan-freaking-tastic clown costume, as long as the cats quit stealing my felt polka dots. I know, clown costumes are bland and boring and usually only occur when you don't have enough time to come up with something else, so you throw on some white face paint, a red nose, some clothes that are too big and mis-matched and a wig, if you have one. I'm trying to take it to the next level, though, by making it clear that I've been thinking of and working on this costume for several weeks. The hardest part will be deciding how I want to paint my face. Scary, killer klown? Funny, rainbow, kid's party clown? Drunk, cracked-out wasted clown? The possibilities are endless!

It begins.

I've wanted to be a blog author for a long ass time, but have always had a zillion reasons why I can't do it "right now." Well. I just lost my job. Which means I have ample free time to do whatever the hell I want, as long as it doesn't require spending any money. So here I am, being a blog author. Will it suck? Will it be awesome? Will anyone ever even read it (besides myself) to judge one way or another in the first place? We shall see.

I think a good place to start with this would be to talk about the title of the blog, "Bud vs. Blossom." Not long ago, I sort of threw myself head first into a self-induced personal crisis. It was on the verge of happening for a long time, so I decided to allow myself to lose my shit and go with it, finally, because it needed to happen. I'm not normally big on inspirational quotes or anything like that, but while in the midst of deciding whether or not to allow my shit to be lost, I stumbled onto a quote by Anais Nin. It stuck with me and inspired me to do what I needed to do to be the person I wanted to be. It goes like this:

"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."

Couldn't have been more perfectly tailored to me and life when I found it, and ever since then, I've decided to put on my big girl panties and take responsibility for life. So far, so good.