emotional, say what?

last night i dreamt i was on a waterslide high in the clouds above bath, england. i had to brave the unconstructed slide (which many had been injurred and killed on) to get to the bottom.

this morning, i decided to settle in for rerack (a return to bed to rack up some more shut eye), and dreamt i was taking a very hot shower. i just remember feeling absolutely sublime upon waking.

so we have:
waterslide = going with the flow when it comes to emotions on a certain issue
bath = need for emotional cleansing
shower = forgiveness and cleansing of an emotional issue

did i just go thru the entire process of healing over night? hahaha. way to go, subconcious!

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Wednesday's Child is Full of Grace.

God Bless Agent Baigent.

God Bless Ice Cream Sandwiches.

God Bless Suz and Jake who brought a beautiful little boy into the world today.

God Bless finishing the summer semester.

God Bless Gaga (who is just down the street at Beauty Bar as I write this... hmmmm.....)

God Bless this ridiculous salad and gargantuan bottle of water after dancing for three staright hours.

hee hee hee

i moved into my place around thanksgiving. i just now, tonight, finally put away this box that has been sitting in my closet room. finally. along with completely restructuring the entire room, etc. I don't know where i got the energy, or the motivation, but i'm pretty sure it had something to do with the fact that i should have been studying for my finals tomorrow...

the difference

i've spent today, not studying, but on the couch watching too many movies and ridiculous television that i could care less about. the sunday before finals week was.the wrong time to break records on underproduction. g. dammit...

i also ate enough food to feed a very small country and am having a love, mostly hate relationship with technology (facebook, you are a succubus sometimes).

the.good: a single man. watch it.
the.bad: two ice cream sandwiches.and a lamb burger. (ok, not bad, delicious, but... bad, sami!)

additionally, i found this today (denver art museum) and out of competition with myself, i felt insignificant with pursuing a masters when it's so low on the hierarchy of degrees. silly how the human mind works, isn't it?

the difference between my normal day (go go go, learn learn learn, hike, walk, hike) is blatantly obvious, and as a result of living like a couch potato today, i feel uberlame and overtly in need of social stimulation to reassure my coolness on an otherwise useless day.

the ex is soliciting me again, and it would be so easy to just run in his direction for the attention that i crave, but alas, i've finally lost interest (even when lured by 10 stitches in the hand as a result of being jumped last night). don't get me wrong, that's terrible, and man, that's gotta suck for a drummer, but i think i've finally shut the spicket when it comes to handing out compassion to those who don't deserve it.

i think 100-odd chances are fair, don't you?

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eeeeventful

i knew i was pushing the gas tank but laughed hysterically when my car gave out around fifth and broadway this morning. pretty sure i angered the guy in the car behind me when i cut into his lane. but girl had to get out of the heavy flow of traffic. my momentum gave out just as i used the big guns to steer into the drive thru entrance of kfc/a&w.

i threw on my emergency blinkers and marched to the nearby 711. problem solved in ten minutes or less.

i headed south to manitou to defeat the incline (tho thot about driving straight through to new mexico...).

half way up, it started to pour hurricane rain, and suddenly i had painted-on pants and two shirts so soaked through i could have filled a kiddie pool. twice.

i thought about turning around once the thunder and lightening hit, but you just don't stop when you are hiking such a grandiose mountain!

i froze the whole way home but was determined to pick up some running shoes and grab some groceries. i actually appologized to the cutie whole foods boy for "looking like a wet dog."

who says that?

i ate an ice cream sandwich for dinner and promptly crawled in bed by 8:30. now...watching some unrated jenny mccarthy film (dirty love). quality. carmen electra plays an african american bikini waxer. i wonder if prince guided her on that one... surprisingly, this is not a joke (or a porn, for that matter).

my body is finally realizing its just climbed hundreds of steps and thousands of feet and despite the salt bath and tylenol, oooooouch.


if this doesn't lend to a solid nights sleep, than i am almost out of options...

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feeling all amazon

amazon hair
amazon skin
amazon flair
amazon sin

its humid in the mile high city. i felt ill from lack of sleep most of the day as i whipped through eight insanely productive hours in work and law. the kind of productive where you wont actually remember what all you did because the list was so long.

it finally cooled off enough for a long walk during a bit of lightening.. it seems fourth street is where its at.

im still not sleeping, but maybe tonight will be different. i've got the porch door in the bedorom as wide as it will go and letting all the fresh air blow through the house tonight... also hoping the purge of some hurt and worry onto electronic paper will ease the mind and make room for some dreamless sleep... i have so much less to worry about than most in this world. i wonder why my body doesn't seem to understand.

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Nom nom nom

Following some amazing old-fashioned cake from The Market, work, class and some wedding dress shopping today, I definitely need some walk time on the town. Right now tho, i'm kind of wishing my wood floor would transform into a moving floor like that old-school Jamiriquoy video. That... would be awesome.

Anyway... Cake:

a>

Bride.

thanks, e.

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

- Rudyard Kipling

No room for interpretation, apparently...

I am not sleeping again.
Instead, I'm waking up every two hours or so due to:

Uncomfortable temperatures
Maynard howling in the downstairs sunroom
Switching sides in bed (think of a flopping fish out of water)

You can rest assured, however, that it's not because of noise. Ear plugs are my new favorite invention.

When I do sleep, I dream. Vividly, and in exact conjunction with whatever is going on in my life. There's not even bizarre, random whimziness anymore. Just reality, exagerated just a bit. It's not great. I work enough in my day llife, I'd much appreciate if my subconcious would take a breather and just let me black out for a solid nine hours.

Last night brought forth pregnancy, labor, and a baby girl, which I left at home with my mom to go grab dinner with a gf while another estranged friend waited on us. Before we could talk, my mom called me saying the baby (apparently, babie(s) now - twins) wouldn't stop crying and could I please come home to feed them. I obliged, politely and took off.

What's strange about this is the dream succeeded four different wake-ups through the night. I'm pretty sure I passed out around 11 last night while reading a nick hornby book, light on. I awoke at 1:30, then 3:30, then 5:30 and well, you get the point.

An acupuncturist-in-training told me today that all those time slots correspond with organs that all relate to decision making and governing direction. He also said that my 'yin' of yin and yang is dipleted, and I should go home and eat a giant bowl of cherries and watermelon. Score.

Despite all this, I'm still in a marginally good mood, though I'm getting desperate for a good nights rest, and for some odd reason, my back is killing me.

I'd love to say I don't worry about things anymore. That things/people don't hurt me and I let things roll off my back because that's how you should be. For the most part, I try, because throwing a fit has never helped. But as a result to keeping the calm outside of myself, it seems that all of the aforementioned issues are a result of internalizing everything.

No idea how to fix this. No idea if I want to. I don't want to cause a ruckus. Butttt... Somethings gotta give.

I guess what Grad School's been teaching me (aside from that I am a horrible test-taker, I should not be in marketing, accounting or law), is that I am quite resilient. I am just longing for the time when I can relax the guard walls and, you know, live... love... sleep. like a normal person.

Love. her.

Little Lion Man

Rough day.

I am sad, sad, sad, sad, sad.


I think the whole "fake it 'til you make it" philosophy has caused me to surpass the act of addressing any real feelings, and now that i've abandoned that concept, my self esteem has plummeted to an appauling, all-time low. I am beyond baffled how I can have a day full of pleasant, normal human interactions and come home feeling like the most worthless human being on the planet. This 'processing' stage of all the pain over the last 25 years is going to kill me...

Vh1 Behind the music: sj edition

It's difficult to get anything done when vh1 is running a behind the music marathon. Hey - you have you guilty pleasures in vapid MTV "reality" shows or dare I say - vampire crap - so while I'm over here not judging your poor choices (heh), you just let me have my music documentaries.

I honestly can't rember the last time I've actually seen BtM, but getting involved isn't unlke a lifetime original movie. Serious topics, tear-jerking stories and a commitment of two full hours. This, of course, is if you manage to peel away after one special. Ha...false.

I flipped on the tellie half-way through Christina Aguillera, thinking I could still fit in my two-hour walk, sixteen flights of stairs and a quick swim in the pool before heading over to two different bbqs.

After I was notified that the following episode covered the story of Courteney Love, I thot - this is cake. Especially Considering I've never liked her anyway (she makes it so easy).

So I bought a few Xtina songs via iTunes for my workout, and managed to catch five measely minutes on courteney...and wouldn't you know, it's two hours later and I actually have a new-found respect for the bitch. You see what good journalism is capable of doing? Dammit!

So now it's two p.m. And next up: Pink.

Noooooooooooo!

In all of this, I seemed to omit the four chapters of entreprneurship law reading and questions for our chat this wednesday. Oh, and the twelve-page paper for global sports and entertainment... Buuuuuut, priorities right?

I say sex or on time for coffee with a friend, you pick: ______?

Ten minutes extra sleep or clean hair: _________.

Peanut butter cookies or steel cut oatmeal for breakfast: _______.

Think of a time you reasoned yourself out of a responsibility. Yes, laying on the floor learning useless pop culture knowledge was more important!

But, i forced myself up, threw on some shoes and I walked, with fury, through Denver. Part of the anger, because I chose exercise over Pink, but mostly because my building disapointment of men (a story for another time, or not at all). The latter was increased when I passed a homeless man masterbating behind a suitcase on a very exposed section of the sidewalk. Why? WHY...?!

I returned back around four pm and vh1 had shifted focus to Eve. This half helped confirm that while the bear claw tattoos on her tits are still a stupid idea, she's kind of rad, and moving to Philly after my program to focus on the hip hop industry may, in fact, hold steady at the top of my life plan list.

In the end I scrapped one of the BBQs, and the point of all of this is there is no point. I suppose I'm trying to comfort myself by writing that I actually did do something today... This could arguably just be research for my masters antway, so... Zing! Keep it coming, VH1.

Hope you all had a wonderful fourth. And didn't see any homeless men fondeling themselves...