all things (just keep getting better)

2004-01-01 - 11:41 p.m.

funny how listening to leather strip cover 'the carnival is over' can make one so melancholy, then watching several episodes in the 'queer eye for the straight guy' marathon can make one feel so sunny and gay.

take that to mean what you will.

listening to jack white sing mountain songs makes me feel all tingly, like when the frayed ends of your life meet and grasp each other, seemlessly interweaving themselves until that section is one complete circle. it also gets me of a mind to make some mixes. of course, that would involve actually unpacking my cds. but hey, with all the new music i received for christmas, i could still go another month, easy, and be fine. bluegrass, punk, old-school goth, indian music (both traditional and modern), tunes from the 1920s, and of course the obligatory chick music leave me pretty well off.

i was going to try to have things clean and unpacked for special k's visit. but she might just have to love me for who i am, and not for a clean or well-organized living space. i am, however, planning on calling out sick for her visit, so that's something.

'cold mountain' was really quite excellent, and no, not just because of jack white, though his role was glorious. i found myself really drawn into the story in all its odyssey-esque twists and turns. 'the return of the king' was quite good as well, though i dare say most of us expected nothing less. my favourite part was watching the flaming king leap off the cliff. oooh, the fun i'll have watching that in slow-mo and in reverse when the dvd gets here. next on the list: 'peter pan.'

a few nights ago i had a nightmare involving numerous murders before my eyes, attempted rape with metal instruments, and a long running fight to escape the maze of a hell and get back to my own diminsion, earth. i did not awaken screaming, nor sweating, nor anything resembling characters in cinema nightmares. i merely accepted the nightmare situation while still in deep sleep and dealt with it as best as i could. i was glad to wake up in my own room, to be sure, but it wasn't even a vast flooding relief. it was more like opening my eyes, seeing the light from my window streaming in my room, and sighing contentedly that i was out of that nightmarish place. in fact, the word 'nightmare' itself never occurred to me until i began thinking back over what i had just dreamt, as per usual.

of course, i did make it out of the hell diminsion at the very end of my dream, emerging through a mirror in a grey store room filled with shelves of bottled water. had i not escaped, perhaps i would have awoken differently.

the very next night i dreamt that i had a drooling baby that i carried about in my arms. the baby was large, and as i mentioned above it drooled profusely and constantly, but i loved and cherished and protected that baby with every fiber of my life. it was my baby, and i knew nothing but loving it and protecting it as i constantly carried this heavy drooling creature down the gravel road that led to the old house at night.

hm. as i type this i realize that i've had parts of that same dream before. it was night and i was still walking down the hill that led to the gravel road that led to my house, and the moon was full and shining on me, only last time i was pregnant and walking that road barefoot. this time i had a baby. how interesting. well that surely must mean something. i shall have to anylize this further, though perhaps after i've finished writing out my personal thoughts on being a loner (the latter being inspired by the book which i am still currently reading, 'party of one: the loner's manifesto,' by anneli rufus. excellent book.).

i say 'excellent book' like the cop in "fear and loathing in las vegas" says 'excellent seafood.'

pippin is asleep in dad's chair, and i should assume the same activity in my bed downstairs since it is not tomorrow when i shall be calling in sick. as much as i'd like it to be. but my fortune cookie on tuesday said, and i quote, 'your present plans will succeed.' so i am not worried. and when i get worried i embrace the bad thoughts and invite them in for a cup of tea, just like it says to do in 'women's world' magazine, and then they thank me for the cup and quietly go away. then all i have to do is wash the cup and the worry is gone for good. it's true, and i should know, as often as i've tried to violently push bad thoughts away. shoving them aside only makes them more volatile. but who doesn't enjoy polite conversation over a nice cup of tea?

notes for next entry: new gadgets, new year's revolution.