Lucid Barely Awake Rambling!

As long as I can remember, I've nightmares when stressed out. They would be so bad sometimes that my doctor put me on medication, saying they were night terrors, and night terrors can cause apnea, which is true because having a panic attack while asleep usually results in trying to swallow the pillow. Not sure whether that qualifies as apnea or not, but I'd still rather not experience it.

I had one last night, sort of, but I really think it was this morning. It left me with a really small, futile feeling, and since my dreams are in a bastard Russian/German, left me very confused too, since some words don't match up and are just gibberish.

My dad stayed for the weekend, and I love him so much that it aches, but my parents make me so mad sometimes, and whenever he stays over it gets worse. I don't understand how a Southern Baptist and a Catholic could master Jewish guilt, but they have, and if they were ganging up on me rather than trying to form camps against each other in the household, it wouldn't be so mind-numbingly irritating.

We had a fight before he left, immediately before he left, so of course he had to die in my dream, and of course every past romantic companion (or futile current ones) had to be there and do something to make me end up killed.

It left me all wanky and stupid when I woke up, and due to impeccable Annie Logic, angry at the people who spited me in the dream, and really missing my dad.

As a rule in general, I have to check behind the shower curtain as I enter any bathroom that has one. I also don't like stairs or parking lots at night, because of that old urban legend about having one's Achilles Tendon slashed. It's just a part of me, that misplaced caution.

I don't think that counts though, when after waking up you kick a coat off the bed because its black and nebulous and foreboding, or scream at a shirt on a hanger because in the dark of just exiting a brightly lit bathroom, it looks like a zombie about to lurch out at you.

Dammit. Tonight I'm going to be sleeping with the door open and the hall night light on tonight.

Anyway, back to my interweb hiatus. Here's some LOLckey Horror to keep you company. http://www.ee0r.com/lolckyhorror/index.html

In which I'm a sloppy blogger

I feel really weird lately. It's a combination of my job and worry, I think, but on the upside I'm about halfway through this book and working on getting prescribed something mind-numbing so work is tolerable again. And did you know how hard it is to find an apartment during fall semester?

Or stealing back Xanax from relatives? When it should be really easy because they're in a full arm cast? And would probably go down like a ton of bricks?

Bah.

IT'S FUCKING KITTY HEAVEN OKAY?!

There is a cat food commercial that features a cat prancing through a field of... well, cat things, I guess. The first time I saw it I said, "Holy shit, it's fucking kitty heaven!"

Yes, Virginia, there really is a cat heaven. Also, Liz and I have strong-armed Andy into including more cat memes into the newsletter because, as I told him about it, he gave a mouse a cookie and now he has to deal with it.
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There was another setback in my apartment hunt, but hopefully it will be settled by tomorrow. Hopefully.

It isn't bothering me too badly because today, someone gave me barnacles that Grandpop pried off of a ship in the Phillipines during WWII. While I never knew Grandpop because he died a few days before/after I was born (depending on who you ask), the shells of the barnacles are the objects of my affection right now.

When he pried them off the ship, his fingerprints were pressed into their surface, and all these years later, the things are like engraved porcelain. His fingerpads had the same whorls and peacocks eye that mine have, and a psychic once told me years ago that those are the sign of a freewheeler.

My Grandma told me that I have his mouth and his swagger, and an accidental time capsule tells me that I have his hands and gypsy ways.

Happy Jimmy Hoffa Day!

I went to work today, but after sleeping in and then only for two hours. I left so early because I felt like a scab, and if there's one thing my grandmother's taught me (she taught me a lot actually), it's that the best thing to do with a scab is punch them in the coinpurse, then kick their teeth down their throat while they're down.

Since I don't have a coinpurse, I'm just going to eat a big steak and play video games.

And because I love you, here's some Labor Day reading:
Sunshine Mine Disaster
It is appropriate, therefore, that the nation pay tribute on Labor Day to the creator of so much of the nation's strength, freedom, and leadership — the American worker.
How the mafia works

Secondhand Prick-Guilt

My mouth tends to not listen to my brain. Either that, or they have some sort of instant wiring service that I'm unaware of, because I can't really recall the last time my mouth has acted with my permission or blessing. It just spouts off whenever it wants, telling everyone what I'm thinking before even I'm aware that I'm thinking it.

It's annoying. It's very, very annoying, and it makes people mad at me for being mad at them because, I hate to say it, but what I call "common sense" is really just "being a dick" sometimes.

People irritate me sometimes though, and when it seems that they're being just blatantly stupid or trying to be malicious to me (as was the case today), what little control I have on that evil mouth-type-thing goes completely out the window and I can really tear someone a new one if I need to.

. . .

Still feel pretty shitty over it, though. Bah.

Today was chock full of win.

I've finally reached the end of my book, and the end of Kingdom Hearts.

Tomorrow I am going to cash/deposit my check, and Tuesday, Doug and I are going to chillax at his house for a few hours of mindnumbing infotainment.

I chalked my wooziness to regular summer yuck, but apparently everyone in my family who ate at the same BBQ got a really nasty stomach thing from it, and I only had a few hours of puking.

Score.

Well hey there, chilluns!

So we actually have my brother's kids this week, that is pretty groovy. They don't really care about me right now because I'm currently not setting off fireworks, threatening life and limb on the four-wheeler, or showing them violent video games, but they'll come crawlin' back... you'll see!

Actually, I have a box of Zebra Cakes in my room, so once they catch whiff of modified sugars and icing, they'll remember how cool Aunt 'Nnie is. Pwn!

EDIT: HAHA! About two minutes after writing that, they came in for hugs. I love those sprogs.

My temperature is down and after the grossest night evar, I am ready to do things tomorrow. Will get a note explaining the being absent from work thing, and take another Endothing for sleep, then be back up to par again.

Still taking a break from writing, but obviously not blogging or work- just a quick hiatus to get caught up on work again. S'all groovy.