Floor cravings

Oddly enough, ever since I started working out again, I've been much more comfortable sleeping on the floor than the bed. Also out of my life? Pillows. One arm folded under my head is the perfect height, every pillow I own feels too tall and I wake up with a sore neck.

And that is why I just woke up from an evening nap on the floor of my craft room. It wasn't exactly planned, after Josh passed out in his chair in the living room (obviously we're champion sleepers) I went into the craft room to try and finish organizing and cleaning in there (we've got company coming!) and it seems I passed out as well. I woke up being pushed into the table by Orion. So lesson learned about floor sleeps - if I don't close the door, it's an open invitation for my animals to join me!

We've taken a new approach to sleeping, after a number of unsuccessful attempts to get back to 'normal'. I figured what does it matter, we don't have a schedule we have to adhere to. Some nights I can't fall asleep, and some days I can't wake up. So instead of forcing myself to follow a sleep pattern that other people consider normal, I'm just going to sleep when I'm tired. Sometimes I'll sleep for three hours and then be up for 12, other times I'll sleep 9 hours and then be up for 20. I figure my body will tell me when it's tired, and then I'll sleep. If I'm not tired, there's no reason to lay in bed, tossing and turning, and then force myself to get up two hours after I finally fall asleep, right? I would think that's far more detrimental to my health. It seems to be working out alright, the only problem I can foresee having is when we're not at home or when we have company here. (Both of which are happening in the next week.) But I'm not worried, schedules always get switched up in those situations, and if I have to stay up with less sleep, my adrenaline will be pumping and I probably won't have any issues. 

My workouts have been going good, the videos are challenging but fun, and they don't really seem that long because they're split into warm up, workout, and cool down. I've been sore this week, but in a good way, not like the it hurts so bad I can't work out again kind. My muscles feel like they're getting longer. I can't really explain it, but that's how the soreness feels, like someone stretched them out length-wise. Surprisingly (for me, at least) the workout on the exercise ball made me the most sore, especially my lower abs! I was not expecting that.

I think that if I have time tomorrow I'm thinking of making Orion a little back-pack of sorts. I'm tired of lugging his stuff around in my purse, and half the time I don't even want to carry a purse in the first place. So I'm thinking that if he carries the pack, he can hold my phone and wallet, plus his own water bottle, treats, and whatever else I need to throw in there. Not to mention, an adorable dog with a backpack? He'll just get even more attention. We'll see how that works out, though, since I've got to pack for all three of us, remember to charge all my things, and then on top of that remember all the other stuff that will get thrown in the car but not packed. I love road trips, but the hours just before leaving always stress me out and make me kind of crazy.

We'll only be gone two nights, and it's only two hours away, but I know myself, and any time I'm away from the house I come back and need a day off. I just want to relax in my pajamas, watch TV, nap, and have a refreshing beverage. But I'm not really going to be able to do that, because my friend from Austin will be here on the 4th! She's driving to Alabama, and even though this is a smidge out of the way, she's taking a detour to see me! I feel so honored, and am ridiculously excited (as you have probably noticed by the slew of exclamation points I have unleashed.) We haven't really had company since we moved here, so I'm trying to get the house all in order and make everything look nice and neat. Both my and Josh's families have come, but my parents helped us move in, and his aren't that far away, and even though I love them, and love to have them here, it's different when it's someone that's not related to you coming to visit. I hope they have time to go see some sights and visit some of the awesome stuff here. :) I love showing people around, because I really and truly love where I live.

Night naps.

Last night (and I can actually say that now, because it's 2 am, so that means it's already tomorrow) I got sleepy around 10:45, which was odd because I'd only woken up at like 1:15. In the afternoon. (I know.) But I chalked it up to a.) my body trying to balance me out and regulate my sleep cycle, and b.) the fact that I had worked out pretty hard. Anyway. I guess it doesn't matter why, really, it just matters that it happened. I got sleepy, and I went to bed.

Then I woke up. At 2 am. A few different things were going on.

First of all, I had have the song "Brown Eyes Blue" stuck in my head.

Secondly, I'd had a dream about a house, my house it seemed, but not this house or any other house I've ever been in. In the dream, my family was downstairs with some people we used to know (well, in the dream we used to know them, but they were really just made up dream people.) Then a drunk old-ish lady in a bikini came in to pick up her daughter (was I running a daycare?) so I told her they were downstairs. It was basically like I had a whole other house in the basement. There were multiple rooms when you went down there. Except the lady didn't go down there. She went to use the bathroom. And then she opened the bathroom window and fell out! I heard her yelling, but I didn't go out right away, mainly because I was mad at her for being a big stupid-head. Finally, I did go out, and was trying to help her up, but I got distracted by a tiny kitten playing with a firetruck.

Then, when I woke up, and my brain kind of did this weird thing...and I started thinking about the word extraordinary. And how, if you break the word down, it doesn't really sound like a compliment anymore. Extra ordinary implies, to me at least, more ordinary than even the most ordinary or ordinary people. You're so ordinary, you have extra ordinary left-over. You have such an abundance of ordinary, that you will never escape it.

And now that I've written that dream out, the house under a house idea isn't looking so bad. Maybe after I buy a house, I can get a trailer house and dig a huge hole, and put the trailer house underground, with a secret tunnel that connects it to the main house. I'd just have to make sure I re-enforced the roof somehow so it didn't cave in. That would still be much easier than building an underground living area from scratch. Probably.

I don't think I slept enough, but how could I when I've got an underground house to think about?

Weekend

Well, in true insomniac form I am watching Sabrina the Teenage Witch re-runs, and painting my toenails at 2 am. We did have a great weekend though.

Friday we had Mooyah, their burgers are soo good! We used to have one near us in Austin for a while, but then one day it just disappeared, and so we hadn't had it in a really long time...they changed things up a bit, and they now have a system like Which 'Wich, where you fill in a little card with your name and how you want your sandwich, and just hand them that.

We also made a stop at Michael's, I've been wanting to make some galaxy pants for while now, and I was also thinking about how I had seen scraps of leather during my last visit. So I scooped up some fabric paints (including glow-in-the-dark!), a few things off the clearance table, and a half-pound bag of leather scraps that was on sale.

So far I've made a bracelet and chevron necklace using the white leather, but haven't quite gotten to the galaxy pants yet. I'm a little intimidated, to be honest. I've bleached jeans before, but just by throwing them in a bucket or the washing machine with bleach and water, never in a controlled pattern, and I haven't painted fabric since...about the third grade. I think I'm going to experiment with an old, faded, too-small skirt, first, just to see how it's going to go. If it comes out good, then I'll hold on to the skirt until I lose some weight (more on that in just a sec) and if not, then it's no big loss, really.

Saturday we grilled fajitas (the last pack of 4 that my parents brought the last time they visited - we can get the meat and do them ourselves, but HEB ones are really a treat) and corn, and I made tortillas and Mexican rice to go with them. It was delicious, and we ate on that all day. We mostly just sat around and relaxed, it was a good day.

I finally got around to clearing off the bed for us (and by that I mean I swept all my purses and pajamas onto the floor, where they'll likely stay for a few more days before I get around to actually putting them up.)

Today (yesterday? technically, but I'm still up...) we started our workout plans. I'd been doing really well for a while, from like March all the way through May I'd been eating well, logging my food, and working out at least four times a week. And then I injured my toe and it all went downhill from there. At first I literally couldn't even walk, so I knew there was no way I could work out. Then, it started to get better but I still couldn't bend it up or sideways, so I was worried about having to do things like push-ups and mountain climbers. And for the past two weeks it's been depression and laziness that have gotten the best of me. But I decided today that I need to start getting back into it, because after having been out of it for so long there's no way I'll be able to jump right back into where I was. I'm going to have to start out slow(ish) again, and work back up to where I was.

And that's a depressing thought, in itself. I was doing so well, I was up to an hour a day, comfortably. I'm angry with myself for letting my laziness get the best of me. I'm really competitive, and Josh doesn't care about working out at all, so part of it was having no one to pace against, or to push myself to beat. I know that's no excuse, I need to be my own motivator and do it for myself...but, once I said something about it, Josh decided he would start trying again too, so he started researching other workouts, and he found some weird prison workout that he's going to do, based on using your body-weight, and doing a lot of strength and endurance...so we decided that I would do my 90 Day Supreme, and he'd do his own thing, and we'll see whose works best. Which is kind of awesome, and really exactly what I needed! I think I'm going to 'win' not only because I'm super competitive and I'm going to try really hard, but because my plan is 45 minutes a day for 6 days a week, and his is two exercises a day two days a week (at first. I think. He tried to explain it, but it was confusing to me. Part of the reason I was much happier to do mine that came with a calendar that tells you which video to do each day.)

Anyway. I'm also working to get back to eating as healthy as I had been before too...I had been doing great with counting calories, and getting tons of fiber...and, for whatever reason, once I'm out of that groove it's so hard to get back into it. I've been easing back into it slowly, though. I wish it wasn't so hard. I mean, I'm always happier when I'm working on being healthy. It carries over into every other part of my life, and yet I still have to work so hard to get myself there mentally. And really, that's what I'm doing it all for anyway is my health. I don't care about being skinny, I just want to be as healthy as I can be, physically and mentally, and that includes both eating right and working out.

Enough of that! Want to hear a funny story? Our floorboards are still kind of warped from the AC flood of 2012, and so we've got a box fan going hoping that they'll fix themselves if they dry up (so far no luck). But, Belle seems to have gotten the impression that the fan is her own personal cat-level AC, and has taken to laying out in front of it. Sometimes she'll get way up close, right in front of it, and other times she'll sit further back, but whenever the living room comes up in her spot rotation, she makes sure she's in the line of cool air.

Orion is back to normal now. He got to go to Petco today, so we could get him a new bag of food, and, as usual, he became the center of attention. One dude actually laid down on the floor and let Orion slobber all over him! His lady was thoroughly embarrassed. Orion was ecstatic, and we were amused. He got a treat at the counter too. That put him in a great mood for the rest of the day, he loves going out and seeing people. He's such a happy, friendly dog.

Next weekend is the Purple Hull Pea Festival! If you're not familiar, you should educate yourself. Emerson Arkansas hosts a festival that features pea-shellin', pea-eatin', and tiller racin'! (Seriously.) This is the first time I'll be back since I've gotten my camera, and despite the fact that they race them in the almost unbearable heat at 2 pm, I'm hoping for some great shots! Unfortunately they now have a 50 hp limit on them, (there used to be one with a motorcycle engine that no one could keep up with - the racer would also lose control and fall! But holy moly was it fun to watch!) but it'll be fun none-the-less. So you probably won't hear from me until Monday or so, but be sure to check my Tumblr! Getting my shots up on there is always top priority.

This week

Well. It all seems to have calmed down now, but man this week has been a roller-coaster!

Remember how I mentioned that the AC was kind of acting up on Saturday? We left it off until we went to bed, and it seemed fine on Sunday, but Monday it blew up again, (not literally) and made a huge puddle out from under the unit all the way into the living room.We soaked it all up with towels, turned the unit off again, and called our landlord. (Makes me glad we're still renting!)

While all of this is happening, Orion is acting strange. He's thrown up before, and we read that large-breed puppies will occasionally get a sort of 'morning sickness' because their bodies are growing so fast, so I tried not to put too much stock in it. But he kept throwing up, all day, four or five times actually, and refused to eat or drink anything. By the end of the day I had mixed up a bottle of gatorade and water and was forcing him to drink every 30 minutes or so to try and keep him from getting dehydrated.

Sometime after 5, our landlord came and worked on the AC for a while. He and Josh flushed the line out, and then he got someone to come refill the freon. We turned it back on, and it seemed ok at first, but then it flooded out again. We realized, though, that with the freon refill it had gotten insanely cold, (we used to keep it set at 70) so we turned it up and now have it set at 78 with no problem whatsoever. It's perfectly comfortable, even cold in some areas of the house.

Back to Orion. I ended up staying up with him all night, and he stopped throwing up, but he also stopped getting up for anything. By 7 am I couldn't even get him to stand up without yelling at him, so we loaded him up and took him to the vet. They said there wouldn't be a doctor in until 10:30 but that we could leave him, so after a bit of discussion, we did.

We came home and I took a nap (well, tried to, I was worried) until the doctor called. She said that nothing (besides gas) was showing up on his x-ray, but that he could still have some sort of soft blockage, like a towel, or string, or something. She said she was going to give him some laxatives and keep him overnight for observation.

I took another nap, and woke up feeling strange. Out of sorts. My dog was gone, my sleep schedule was off, and having eaten an early morning breakfast after being up all night wasn't quite agreeing with me. So I moped around the house, feeling lonely, and watched TV all day. I couldn't stop worrying about Orion. I was terrified that they'd have to do surgery! Not only was I scared for him being alone at a strange place all night, while he wasn't feeling great no less, I was scared of what would happen if they had to do surgery and we couldn't afford it.

Since I had been up all night the night before, and slept most of the day, of course I was up most of the night again Tuesday night. Throw in all the worry, and there was no way I was going to fall asleep. I ended up crying in the shower at like 4 am. After getting it all out of my system, I was fairly exhausted and I managed to finally get to bed.

After dealing with an issue with Nissan (they pulled the car payment twice! But had already refunded it by the time we noticed) Wednesday brought better news. Orion was eating and drinking, and had finally pooped, so after handing over our entire savings account, we were able to bring him home! He had obviously had a rough night, because after a walk-through to make sure his house was as he left it, he passed out and didn't wake up until dinner time. And then after eating, he promptly passed out again. I don't blame him, though, he's kind of spoiled and I'm sure he spent his night at the vet complaining rather than sleeping.

Yesterday he felt a little better, and wanted to play for all of 10 minutes before he was tired again. He's improving slowly, and I really hope we don't have anymore scares like this! I had no idea that him being gone overnight would bother me that much.

Other more normal happenings this week include shaving half my hair off on Monday night (oh, is that not normal where you're from?) and Belle poking a hole in the air mattress. (Which, yes, we are still sleeping on.) 

Actually...neither of those things are really all that normal, are they? Oh well. They happened. My hair is totally awesome though. And the now-defunct air mattress is forcing me to finally finish organizing the bedroom so we can get back to sleeping in our bed. (I should stress that sleeping on the air mattress, up til now, was actually kind of nice. It's bigger than our normal bed, and when we filled it up all the way it was actually firmer.)

Yesterday afternoon we took another trip to Re-store. This time I got three shirts, one of which is way too big, but will work well as either a night-shirt or a summer mini if I cut off the sleeves and take it in some. The other two were just wonderful finds...a gorgeous black/white stripe silk number, and a see-through chiffon shirt that will need something to go under it, but that's easy enough. I also found a box of slightly used crayons and an old cheese grater for art purposes, and a blue porcelain owl who's due for a makeover!

Saturday

I love summer Saturday's, lazy, hot, and perfect as can be. We're grilling a rack of ribs, and we each picked a bottle of wine to go with them, but didn't let each other see them. When we drink them, we're each going to have to guess what fruits or other flavors are featured in each others picks! We also got some frozen booze popsicles (I really don't know what else to call them) for later, which is great because our AC froze up and we had to turn it off and let it defrost...which means we have a window open and the fans going full speed. It doesn't feel too hot, though, maybe that's because I'm also drinking a frozen mocha frappe (the recipe for which I have finally perfected, after years of experimentation.)

I've got a shirt dyeing in a bucket in the bathtub...grey dye was on clearance at Wal-mart the other night and I bought a bunch with no real idea for what I would use it on, but decided to use some on one of Josh's white dress shirts (since he has like 4, but never wears any since he works from home like 95% of the time.) Anyway. If he doesn't like it, no harm done since he's got no shortage of white dress shirts, and if he does, then awesome!

Yesterday we went to Re-store and I got two shirts, three glass candle sticks, four or five picture frames, (including one huge 8 picture collage-style one for a dollar!) and two grab-bags, which are ziplocs full of random stuff for a dollar. One of them was a bit more random, and Josh picked it for the meat thermometer it had, but it also had a pedometer, two pairs of sunglasses, a wallet, and a broken watch. The other one had jewelry, three pairs of earrings, three bracelets, and four necklaces. They were actually a really good deal, and I kind of want to go back and look through the rest of them. We got there 20 minutes before close so we didn't get to browse as much as I would have liked. Then, I think the cashier rung it up wrong or something, but all that only came out to $10! I was so pleased that I went to Michael's next and got a few more supplies, and then came home and started working.

Last night we also got hit by a wonderful summer storm. It rolled in thick and fast, and even knocked the electricity out for a bit! It was quite exciting, and being forced to finish my glass of wine by candlelight was actually kind of nice. The rain was great too, we haven't mowed the lawn in a month since it's been so dry! I thought moving here we would escape the awful drought conditions we dealt with last year, but so far it hasn't been all that much better. Hopefully things pick up and the rain keeps coming!

*Edit*
So Josh won the wine game by identifying two of four flavors, while I only guessed two of five. My wine pick for him was a 2009 Napa Valley Merlot called Irony, and it featured plums, blueberries, black cherries, and tannins. (He got the cherries and plums.) The one he picked for me was a 2010 North coast Sauvignon Blanc called Hess Select that delivered pear, lychee, verbena, and lime, with aromas of citrus & freshly mowed grass. (I got the lime and pear.) They were both really good, and went well with our dinner of ribs and grilled corn, followed by grill-prepared s'mores. I'm telling you, summer doesn't get any better than this! ♥

Adventure

The cloud has lifted, and my heart beats strong and free once again.

The past couple of days I've been crafting, and since I feel like my heart is in it now, it's going a lot better. Last night and this morning I tried a couple of different techniques for painting glass jars (we eat a lot of spaghetti.) I like one more than the other, but unfortunately I lost one jar when it rolled off the kitchen table and shattered, splattering one wall a brilliant blue. It'd be quite gorgeous, but I have a feeling my landlord won't appreciate my 'splatter art' so any suggestions for removing acrylic paint from a wall without damaging the paint that should be there would be greatly appreciated.

That fiasco actually happened just as we were getting ready to leave, so it was sort of lucky that I was able to get the paint off the floor before it dried.

We picked up some food and headed out to this 'secret bridge' spot that a local artist told us about a couple of weeks ago when we were at the Art Walk. It was really beautiful there (check out the pictures on my Tumblr!) and we enjoyed exploring after we ate. Eating was kind of an adventure in itself, though, since Josh didn't realize that we didn't get utensils until we were already sitting down ready to eat, and even though we weren't way out in the middle of nowhere or anything, we were both too hungry to want to do anything about it. Luckily we both had taco's so the main part of the meal was easy enough, but the rice and beans were a bit trickier. We managed, though. Like I said, we were really hungry.

After that, we came back home where Orion promptly threw up twice. At least it wasn't in the car! (Orion is our 7 month old English Mastiff.) Oddly enough he hadn't had any snacks today, nothing out of the ordinary, not even leftovers, so I really don't know what happened to his upset his tummy. And then I had to wash his towels (which are what he sleeps on since he's not allowed to have the bed that goes in his crate because he eats the fluff off it and then throws that up) and so he was all confused and sad because he thinks that having to sleep on the hard plastic floor of his crate is a punishment. He's fine now, though, he's got clean, warm towels in his bed, and he kept his dinner down so I think we're alright. Fingers crossed.

I also started working on a paper collage as a background for some skeleton keys I've been wanting to frame for a long time. I've always collected keys, but skeleton keys are my favorite, and I found the perfect frame months ago at Re-Store. I bought it, painted it, and it's been hanging, empty, in the hall for close to 6 months now, so it's about time I finished it up! Well, I cut up a page of an old Catholic (June 1955) newspaper that my mom found in their garage when they moved into their house and gave to me. (Their house used to be a dormitory for nuns, or something.) I've been saving it for the perfect project, and I thought that burned pieces of it would look great as a backdrop for my keys...only I didn't think out the burning it part too thoroughly, and I almost managed to set my entire desk on fire before moving to the kitchen and doing it over a piece of foil. I have a few more to finish tomorrow (outside) and then I'll have to figure out how to get the keys on without hurting them. (I think hot glue should work fine.)

I love how much more I can accomplish when I'm happy. Tomorrow, getting back into the working out routine. It's been close to a month since I hurt my toe, and even though it still hurts, and refuses to pop or bend certain directions (anywhere but down, basically) I'm tired of not being able to do anything but walk or work on arm/upper body stuff that doesn't involve feet.

Anguish

Some days I feel like such a captive in my own head. I can hear my sanity screaming at me, but for some reason it's locked behind the depression, behind the anxiety, and sadness prevails. And then, I'm even more depressed because I know that I can be happy, I know what it feels like, I had it such a short time ago and now it's slipped out of my grasp. I know it will come again, because this is the cycle that I live with, but at the same time my disease keeps on telling me that it won't. It tricks me, it lies, and it insists that this is my new reality. A life of melancholy days, and panic-filled, thought-racing nights. A life of being stuck inside because I can't bear to leave my house.

I'm sorry if this is depressing, but it helps to express my thoughts sometimes.

Other times, it's just a waste of effort.

It muddles my brain. The depression does. Or the anxiety, I don't know. I'm more easily confused, and I have these vivid memories of things that have never happened to me.

My heart aches, and my soul begins to feel like it's stretched too thin, like I've had more life than I can handle.

Which I haven't, I assure you. I want nothing more than to continue my existence, I only wish that I could do so without the fear of this. I know that without medication I'm destined to feel the full effect of every 'swing' my brain throws at me. They don't happen often, I'd say twice a year. Usually the worst one is in October, which, ironically is my favorite month...they last anywhere from a day to a week, and once I'm through it my mood will level out and stay at 'slightly depressed.'

Isn't it sad, how easily I can talk about this? I didn't used to be able to. I used to try to pretend that there was nothing wrong with me. But that actually made it worse. The more I tried to suppress my fears and anxieties, the more I focused on them, because I was so worried about them showing. Does that make sense? Kind of like if you had a bald spot in the back of your head, and rather than just let it be, you tried to hide it with a hair piece or by making a bun around that spot, but neither was comfortable, so you kept touching it, which, in turn, only drew more attention to it.

I kept it bottled inside, until I couldn't take it anymore, and then I'd have a full-blown out-of-control level ten anxiety attack. I can remember a few that I had when I lived with my parents that were just...insane. But even then, they didn't see. I'd go in my room, and scream, cry, or take it out on myself in other ways. I didn't know what was wrong with me, I didn't understand why certain things hurt my feelings so bad, or why I wasn't normal. I kept it hidden for so many years.

Then, one day, I broke down. I couldn't take it anymore. I had a horrible anxiety attack while I was on my way out the door, and I couldn't stop it. I mean, it hit me hard. I scared my parents, I know I did. They'd never seen me like that. My mom cried with me, and said she wished I had told her sooner. Eventually I calmed down enough to talk, and that's the first time I ever realized that I didn't have to be embarrassed about being sad. Sure it's deeper than your typical sadness, it's without rhyme or reason, and it has a mind all it's own sometimes, but it's nothing to be ashamed of. I didn't choose this, and I didn't do anything wrong. I haven't hurt anyone but myself.

So that helped a lot, coming to that realization. Figuring out that the people that loved me weren't going to stop just because of that. Even though sometimes it feels like it. That's part of the sickness, is having to listen to its lies, having it tell you that nobody loves you and nobody cares. Sometimes I can fight back, and sometimes I fall into it's trap, and give in to the idea that I'm alone. What sustains me in those darkest hours is my cat, Belle. Seriously. Even when I'm lost in the deepest, darkest, most solitary corner of my mind she'll find me and lick my toes or something. It was always that way. I can say with 100% honesty that if it weren't for Queenie, and the comfort she gave me, and all the times she let me cry into her fur, I wouldn't be alive today. The love of an pet is so perfect and so pure that not even depression can suppress it.

But now I'm come to terms with my reality. I'll never be over this. I could go to a doctor, and they could write me a prescription, and ask me how things make me feel, and tell me things I already know, like I should confront my triggers, and face my fears, but you know what? I don't want to. Not right now anyway.

I'm finally at a place in my life where I have come to terms with everything. Everything that has happened to me, every choice I've made, every situation that has been forced upon me, and I'm okay. I survived. I'm not always happy, and I may not be the best company at a party, and I will never participate in Black Friday, but that's me. I've accepted myself, and that was a hard thing to do, so I know that in spite of the occasional anxiety attack, or mood swing, I am making progress. In my own way, in my own time...

Breaking out

This past week has been kind of rough. I've had at least three full-blown anxiety attacks, and even one is emotionally and physically draining, so I've mostly just been moping around the house trying to find any excuse in the world to not do anything, but I know that's bad so I'm at least trying to work on a few different craft projects and going outside and taking pictures. It's been slow, but I'm starting to feel somewhat better today, so I hope that sticks.

Current projects include: two pairs of jeans that have been bleached. One has been cut into shorts, but I'm still working out what exactly I want to do with the other, and whether or not I want to dye both or either of them. I just dip dyed a denim skirt the other day (with a teal fade effect, it came out pretty nice if I do say so myself!) so I don't know how I feel about having multiple bleached/dyed denim pieces. I did buy a bunch of jeans at Re-Store the other day though ($2 a piece, so why not?) so I have plenty more to play around with if I change my mind on anything.

I've also got to get to Walgreens at some point today to pick up a bunch of pictures that I printed, then I've got to cut/glue them onto my scrapbook paper, frame them, and hang them, so hopefully that will cheer me up a bit. I love not only taking pictures, but also seeing how great my photography looks hanging up, and it's all cool/fun stuff we've done in the past few months, and it's nice to look back and remember how much fun we have when I'm not in the depths of despair.

I made Belle a very fashion-forward mint green dress the other day, and her fat shoulders immediately busted out one of the shoulder straps when I put it on her. It was more of a joke than anything else, I made it from the scraps of a skirt for me, but I do kind of want a picture of her in it, so I may take 3 minutes of my ever-so-valuable time (ha!) and fix it.

Hmm. Talking (writing) to absolutely no one on the internet has made me feel even better, imagine that! I'm going to go finish all this stuff and maybe even post some pictures if I can take them before the sun goes down...

Music

I love music, more than I could ever possibly put into words. There are songs that make me cry, songs that touch my very soul, songs that I can actually feel. They reach in and wrap themselves around my heart, they slip into my blood and course through my veins, and their power overwhelms. It's crazy, really. I don't know anyone else that is this effected by music, but I am.

I've also never talked about it. To anyone.

I can't explain it. In some cases it's the lyrics, but usually it's the music itself. Sometimes it's both. There's no specific genre, and it doesn't matter what the song is about.

Sometimes my brain actually gives the song an entirely new meaning. I would share some examples, but honestly you'd probably just think I was crazy. They make no sense. Well, they do in a few cases, in the ones where I've tied a memory to the song and it's taken that on as a meaning.

That wasn't a very good explanation of what I was trying to say. It's not the meaning that has changed, but the picture association. You have to understand that my brain is very visual, everything I hear, smell, feel, has a picture to go with it. Sometimes it's what happened the first time I heard/smelled/felt it, other times it's a special or memorable time I heard/smelled/felt it, but in some cases my brain just goes and does it's own thing...

I'll share one that goes with a normal song so you get the idea. The first time I remember hearing Ozzy's 'Mama I'm Coming Home' was in my brother's Jeep. I was five or six, and we were on the frontage road, about to get on the expressway and go to the mall. My brother was driving, my mom was in the passenger seat, and I was in the back. And that's what I see when I hear that song, I can see my brother and my mom, the road winding in front of us, the dead grass, the palm trees...

Another example is 'Romeo & Juliet' by the Dire Straits. Even though I'd heard it many times before, and I've heard it hundreds of times since, the picture that I associate with it is me, huddled in the bathtub in a completely dark house, on the 4th of July in 2002, trying to drown out the sound of popping fireworks, crying, and having the most heartbreaking conversation of my young life. Granted that was like the worst song timing in the history of all the times that song has been played, but I love it nonetheless.

It's an exquisite feeling really, though, to have such vivid memories. It's almost akin to being able to control my dreams. I can listen to a song and be transported to an entirely different place, sights and smells from years ago suddenly come flooding back and my heart flip-flops with the sudden onset of emotion. I'm amazed, at times, by how I can be so deep in depression, so broken, so sad, but I listen to a song I love, a song with happiness attached to it, and for just a few minutes that perfect love will fill my heart and eclipse everything else.

Time travel

I think we've all that moment when we see something from the past and fall so deeply in love with it that we wish we could be transported to the time when it was new, and being displayed properly, it all it's glory. Perhaps a spectacular 18th century wing-back chair, or even something more grand, like a Shakespearean play.

I often think about the various time periods that I love, everything from the the gilded age of the Egyptians, to the rise and fall of the Roman empire, to the dark ages, and the traumatic 1930s and 1940s. I've always been a history buff, inhaling whatever knowledge of the past that I could, by whatever means I could. I dreamed of sailing the Nile in a wooden ship, and being persecuted as a witch. (Seriously, those are both things I've actually dreamed.) (And, I kind of just noticed, I'm really into conflict...)

But then reason sneaks in, and whispers in my ear, reminding me that the chances that I would survive very long at all in any of those historical periods are probably pretty low. First off, I can't talk any other language. I'd be a foreigner, in crazy clothes, and probably taller than everyone, even the men. If I did happen to 'land' somewhere that they spoke English, it would be a very different dialect. We could probably communicate, to an extent, but I'd sound funny, and I'm sure that they'd be highly suspicious of me. Not to mention, unless it was the dead of winter, those people would more than likely stink to high heaven. So I'd offend them by choking on their smell, I have no doubt about that.

Then we have to factor in the lack of everything else that I'm used to. No running water, no toilets, no chocolate. No electric oven and especially no car to drive around it. Even if I had money on me, no one would take it so I couldn't buy anything. I'd be forced to become a thief just to survive. I certainly couldn't find a job, I have no skills that would apply in that situation.

No thanks, I'll stick to my imaginations version of time travel, where I land in the castle, am welcomed by royalty, and spend my days running through the woods pretending I'm Lili and hoping Jack will find me and lead me to the unicorns...

Separation of knowledge

As someone with an impeccable memory (near-photographic, but not quite) I, obviously, remember a lot of things. The strange part, though, is that I can't separate the knowledge I had at the time of the memory from the knowledge that I have now, so when I remember things that happened when I was 5 or 6, I often think I was smarter then than I actually was. I question my own actions, judge my 5 year old self, and ponder the various ways that the situation could have played out based on what I (now) think I should have done or said.

Molt

This is my cat, Belle. She is attempting to figure out what exactly it was that I threw at her, that got stuck to her back and made her twitch and spin in circles while making crazy eyes at me, and then finally fell off and sat limply on the floor. In case you can't tell either, it's the skin that Willow (my Chilean rose hair tarantula) molted earlier in the day.

Remember that blog post a while back where I talked about having exotic pets as a kid? I think I left out the slew of tarantulas that we went through. When I was very little, from the time I was born until I was 7 years old, my dad worked in oil fields. He would go out and check on the rigs, and, since most of them we're out in the middle of nowhere, he would run into his share of wildlife. When he could (which, as I remember it, was fairly often) he would catch things and bring them home. He brought back live rattlesnakes, horny toads, turtles, and tarantulas. Of course he would kill the snakes after my mom and I had seen them, but the smaller things we would occasionally keep.

There was one in particular, though, that has stuck in my memory for longer than the others for the simple reason that after he died, we kept him. I don't know whose idea it was, or why, but I can remember very distinctly, having a small, pink yogurt container in the 'back room' (our laundry room and storage area) that contained a very dead tarantula. (We also had a jar with a rhinoceros beetle in it, but as far as I can remember he was just something we found and thought was cool, and never a pet.)

Anyway. I just wanted to say that even though we had tarantulas when I was growing up, I can't remember any of them living long enough to molt. Maybe they were all male, or sickly, I don't know for sure, but it was a really cool thing to experience! I noticed her this morning, on her back up against her hidey log, and then when we headed out for the day she had already popped through the back part, and I could see the new her folded up inside...and by the time we got back home this afternoon she was all fresh and shiny and ready to go! It was so cool. And then, of course, I pulled out the molted skin and proceeded to throw it at everyone in the house, including the cat. It's currently sitting on top of my printer while I decide what exactly I want to do with it. Hopefully Belle won't 'kill' it during the night and it will still be there when I get up tomorrow. (And by tomorrow I mean later today because, yeah, I am writing this at 3 am.)