Wednesday, May 13, 2009

pieces of me?

little pieces of me, out there on the Internet.
old emails that are still active, receiving junk mail, and having absolutely no "human" action.
Networking sites that I've signed up for by accident when someone "accidentally" sent me a website (to one of my emails that are still actually working).
One tiny little website that I designed when I was in college. I was in-between classes and in the language lab. I really should have been donning the headphones and practicing my Japanese, but I was using one of the library computers just to fart around on the Internet. Being that it's 1998 or so, the Internet (as we know it) was relatively new. I signed myself up for an email address and was checking out all the little extra do-dads and so I joined a Yahoo group called Geocities and made my own little website using some html templates they had (much like myspace is now). So i named it, can't remember what I named it. All it really did, was, it had this background of cherries, and there were little monkeys all over the place. I spent hours on it, actually.
I never tried to find that webpage again. It was one of those things I did and left, I don't even remember what I called it. Or how to get back. I never really tried to get back, after the fact. Forgot about it, prolly. It pops into mind often enough. Monkeys and cherries, what was I thinking?
"What am I thinking now?"
"Tacos"

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Miss S. requested, "A story, before long."

wallet story- forever stamp.

"Hey, what's that stamp doing on your laptop?"
"Oh, that's when my wallet was found after lying for nearly a year on the side of the road near Bisbee. We were taking a motorcycle ride one sunday, and we rode out to the Old Timer's bar with some bikers from the American Legion. It was a beautiful day for a ride and I took loads of really cool pictures from the back of the motorcycle and of course had a few beers at the bar. And on the way home, I decided to take the camera out of my bag and take some pictures. As I took the camera out of the bag, the wallet must have come out of the bag. I only noticed when I was going to put the camera back, and the camera case was also missing. (yeah that was me, digging around in the back of a bag on a motorcycle)."
"But you said it was found a year later?"
"Ya, a couple of months ago. I get this sheriff at my house. The Mr. is really wondering what this is all about so he walks right up to her. She asks for me and he tells her I work at Tombstone High. So this kid comes in my class with a note. All it has is the number on it and the kid spits out its from the sheriff. So I call up the sheriff and I have to call a bunch of different places cuz noone could find the wallet or the report number and everyone was going "This number is the wrong size for our case numbers, you'll have to call so and so." It's rural, of course so nobody really knows what's going on at all. Anyway, I finally track down the person with the wallet.
She was a really bizarre lady. She got all mad at me because I hadn't turned up when I'd said I would. But here I was. She made us wait about 25 minutes while she had someone "bring it up." At least there was a neat little display case of artifacts, old guns and mining material, and photos of all the sheriffs of Tombstone going back to 1879. Sheriff Johnny Beehan, who tried to prevent the shootout at the OK corral by claiming to the Earps he had, "Disarmed those cowboys," was among them.
Inside is my CSUN school ID because I still carried it at the time. Even though I look less and less like that photo every year, it doesn't actually have an expiration so I can always get the student rate for tickets. Of course my licesnse and all the credit cards were missing, including a gift-card to Marshall's they had give me when I quit that terrible school in the city. I never even knew how much that was. And cash, of course. And some random assortment of grocery store discount cards. Among the useless, but interesting items was a soggy and muddy check- checks are useless to steal anymore, apparently, and a couple of ancient looking stamps."
"So that's what that stamp is on your laptop."
"Yep, that's my forever stamp. Cuz that's the first wallet I ever had come back to me. The Mr. had one come back to him after a very long time once. His was better than mine. We found it underneath the mattress in the bedroom. Still had all his credit cards, his ID's, cash, everything."

Saturday, April 25, 2009

rewind

so as a bonus for signing up for satellite television, we also get eighty or so xm and sirius channels included. Which comes in handy when you just want to put some background on without too much talking.
So last night I played a station called , "90's on 9." And I thought, "Well I suppose I really am a child of the nineties." because every song took me somewhere I'd been already. Life is SO short. Never say, "NO!"
So then the Mr. puts on "80's on 8," and I realize that while on the cusp, I am also a child of the 80's. I know Martha Quinn. I know why "Video Killed the Radio Star." and I know Jon Bon Jovi will always be there for me.
I am what I am. And so GLAD of that!

Thursday, March 19, 2009

ever had a real dream?




not a realistic dream. I mean a real dream. Like where you can't tell if you're awake or asleep and the dream follows you into reality.



Sometime in the night I had this dream that my nosering fell out. Not all the way out, it was still halfway in. I woke up making the action of putting the stud back into place. The bizarre thing is that I wear a bone... OK I need to explain that.
This is NOT what I am talking about...


A nose bone is a nose stud all in one piece. See that little ball at the end? It doesn't come off.








That means I had to push that little ball through the hole in my nose until it popped out the other side. Ouch. And it bled.



So my point is that my jewelry IN NO WAY shimmied out of my nose in the night. But I remember that it did.



But that's just one example, I have loads of memories that I am not certain whether they are dreams or not. Some of these memories are not plausible, like my childhood memory (I do class it as a memory) of my dad putting duct tape on his hands and feet and spider walking across the ceiling. Pretty sure that was a dream. But my dreams are so clear, so real... semses, colors, emotions. I so often dream of mundane things, real things, like I'm somewhere else doing these things instead of in my bed asleep.



I've also had nightmares where I am stuck in the same dream like nesting dolls. Always in the dream I am in the actual room I'm sleeping in, only some detail is not right. Something small, like furniture out of place. Then something happens, like a bookcase falling on me, and I wake up in bed. Only I'm still in the dream and I don't know it until I get out of bed and notice something else out of place and something scary happens again. In these cycle nightmares I usually end up in the same room 5 or more times before I wake up for real, by this time not sure I'm really awake.



Sometimes I have these dreams about water. It's either a tidal wave coming and I can't get the people off the beach fast enough; or I'm driving in a car on a freeway bridge and the road goes down into the water; or I'm on a boat and it's sinking. Then I have a dream where I'm under water and I can't hold my breath any longer so I breathe the water and I'm amazed to realize I am able to breathe underwater. Maybe it's because I'm a fire sign.



I used to have flying dreams when I was a kid. Now I have falling dreams.

Fortunately, nothing so bad as Dali.

But I should write down my dreams. Maybe I should write horror.

Check out a really cool LIST about dreams

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

I am a myspace "stalker"

OK so I admit it. I stalk people I don't talk to much anymore. I also IMDB people I went to high school with and wonder why I am sitting in a trailer in Arizona instead of going to awards shows and having my picture taken somewhere else than in a bar.
Than I remember why I didn't go that route. The easy answer is because I wanted this. I wanted a husband and a house and a cat. So I convinced myself that I didn't want to be famous, that I didn't have the drive. But maybe I did. Who knows? Maybe in the next life I will make that choice. But that means there is a reason I'm out here. There IS a reason why I'm doing what I'm doing. I guess I could convince myself that I'm here to be a great counselor and help some people. Maybe I've already helped some people as a teacher... I don't really know. You never really get to find that out...
Well I did teach a 17 year girl how to read. She'd never been in school because her mother was an alcoholic and had kids to run the ranch. I did teach her to read. That's something.
Maybe I'm just burnt out, but I'm also scared. The economy is heading toward a depression and I'm spending another fifty grand on higher education? I'd probably do better just quitting school now and getting another bar tending job. I'm so scared that I'm going to quit my job to do my internship and then there will be nothing there for me.
Then I hear that with the economy in the tank counselors are actually seeing more work than ever. And the war's not going away, sadly enough I'll have plenty of kids with PTSD around. I've started a women's group for those in relationships with guys with PTSD. I didn't realize at the time, but there is nothing for the women who have to deal with someone else who just came home who is not quite unlike their husband. Many, many marriages fail after a deployment. I am working mainly with women in the age range of Vietnam, but hoping to get some more, soon. There's a lot out there I can do. It takes the same energy that I would have put into headshots and auditions. I guess I have the drive after all- hell anybody that can work full time, pull grad school full time, be married to a Yorkshireman and still have time to take care of a horse must have drive. I guess I'm doing OK.

Eat Drink and be Gorgeous

So my little sis came to visit last xmas. On the way home from the airport, I picked up a copy of a book she had brought to read on the plane. While mom was driving home, I flipped through the pages and soon fell in love.
The author is Esther Blum and I cannot be bothered to copy down all of the initials after her name at the moment. It's basically a nutrition guide for modern girls and provides beauty and eating tips for the girl on the go- especially tips to stay beautiful without breaking the bank.
I am only now reminded of the book as said sister just mailed me the sequel, which is less of a book and more of a reference.
anyway go here if you want more info. It's fabulous!

Sunday, February 22, 2009

I am so effing fed up of forwarded emails.

I can't understand the mentallity of some stupid people that can't stop sending really stupid forwarded emails. I just got one apparently from chris angel and it was some stupid horrorscope that if you didn't forward it you would get bad luck. what kind of stupid people believe in this shit? are you kidding me? chris angel is nothing more than a good illusionist. he is not genius, he is not supernatural. he is good at what he does, and his job is an illusionist. get the f**k over it kids, he makes a living out of fooling people. I have made a bit of a habit out of checking out all my junk emails on snopes.com and replying to the idiots that sent them to me with the real facts. I just can't stand junk mail, I never got into chain letters, I don't do friendship bread, and I don't effing forward lying crap on the internet. What is exactly the point of scaring people who otherwise would lead normal, boring lives? I myself would like if people would just keep to their own effing business. basterds.