mydarlingcurse.com

fyi - this is a dream post. most people don’t like dream posts, but but this one really made me feel a whole lot better.

in my dream were my old roommie and her hubba let’s call them gilly and drew - and we were sharing a hotel room by a beach.
since gilly is my BFF she went out and got me a hot man. it was that foxy scot from ‘Lost’. and in my dream he sleeps naked.

so he crawls into bed with me, but is a perfect gentleman. and as i’m softly looking at his tanned back, i can’t resist the urge to touch his skin. as i do, he takes a deep breath and rolls over. we hug and tell him that i’m so sorry for everything that’s happened to him. he says “i’m so sorry for everything that’s happened to you.” i whisper into his chocolate and carmel locks, right behind his ear, “i wish so much i could do something to help you.” he wraps his arms around me tighter and says “i wish there was something i could do to help you.”

i smile into his skin and call him a copy cat. then he kisses me so wonderfully, all the air in my lungs goes out a little love spot at the back of my head and i’m filled with such joy and fantasy that i start to cry.

part of this crippling depression has left me dreamless and with no fantasy at all. i’m so greatful for this dream last night that i’ve been coming back to it in my mind all day. and it’s been a huge comfort to me.

it’s been a horrible day. i’ve been sleeping for most of it though. hubbin finally kicked my fat ass out of bed at quarter to four. we went to the park and that’s all i’ve done today.

earlier this morning i bought amtrak tickets to and fro to red wing and booked two nights at a hotel. hubbin will have to fend for himself and the boo. i am going on a weekend adventure by myself. i will not have a car, so i will need to acquire a pair of great walking shoes before i go. my tennies are craptastic and i need a new pair anyway.

other than that bright little nugget this morning, it’s been a day riddled with anxiety attacks and boo is doing her best sally sensitive, whining and crying at everything. maybe some sunshine will do us both some good so we are headed out into the friday breeze of late afternoon may.

during breakfast this morning - i noticed that on the back of the graham cracker box is actually a receipe for s’mores. i mean, who couldn’t figure that out?

so it’s fucking gorgeous outside. perfect for sitting around drinking beer, smoking ciggarettes and looking a cute boys. where’s PT when you need him? ahhhh the salad days. if boo would sit still long enough for me to put her shoes on, we’d go outside. I’ve yet to catch her though, so i’m taking a break.

sadly, it’s never that easy. in order to put her shoes on, she has to stop trying to put CD’s into my laptop. when we are through with that game, i’ll go change her poopy diaper. she’ll fuss for a little bit, THEN we’ll go outside. once outside, all the neighbours will come out to gape at her beauty. so we never really just go outside.

everything is such a production with toddlers. nothing takes five minutes anymore, NOTHING, except maybe your free time and shower time. and even if you keep a bag packed and by the door when you leave, there is always something - cell phone, stamped bill, keys. aforementioned toddler (although i’ve never actually done that). it’s been four days since i started writing this post and she still doesn’t have her shoes on.

even though i’m still, what i’m sure the u.s. government would classify me as, hugely depressed, i did take a moment today to enjoy the sensation of air moving over my skin. outdoor air, pushing itself in, making me stop and notice that trees make the best mobiles.

it’s one of them wonderful days in may where people have picnics and get engaged and play outside and pick flowers and generally feel good about themselves. it’s may outside, but it’s february in me.

my seventy-something neighbour says i need vitamins. she’s right.

right - so why have i discovered three CD’s by The Sundays? i am currently loading all of my music onto my laptop - jack. some cd’s get to stay here in the house - others are being laid to rest in a cardboard box awaiting a garage sale they may or may not yet happen. so if you want them, they are yours.

also of note, i called my dad last night (sunday) at around quarter to ten, and annie oakley was over. slootie said she stopped by to visit my dad last weekend and ms. oakley was there then too - with her make-up bag in the spare bathroom. hmmmmm….

or why was bryce dallas howard in this movie?

spiderman 3 - yeeesh! i have to say, the best part of going to see this movie was the priates of the carribean trailer. nothing gets my blood going like johnny depp. what is it about good looking boys with dirty hair and eye make-up? oh chris robinson where are you? more importantly - where is your eyeliner?

back to the flick. it’s sad to see a franchise stumble. sure everyone and their grandmother went out to see it this weekend, but the quality of the story was horrible. i kept thinking about jamie kennedy in scream 3 - if you’re dealing with a trilogy, you have to go back to the beginning. something back at the beginning is different that you thought. snore!

SPOILER ALERT!
so uncle ben wasn’t killed in cold blood - and not by the guy whom we thought. so therefore, the whole reason for peter parker to become spiderman has changed. hmmmm….how come that wasn’t explored in the movie? well, it’s because they drop the bomb five minutes before the picture ends. LAME!

and i’m sorry, but unexplained black tar from outer space? if you want to see a great movie about unexplained black tar like slugs from outer space - nextflix The Hidden. but the fact that this stuff just kind attached itself and caused a change - LAME! although here we are again with good looking boys with dirty hair and eyeliner. since peter suddenly has bangs and black rimmed baby blues.

simply put there was way too much going on in spidey 3. girl problems, villian problems, rent problems, job problems. and poor harry - ok, raise your hand if you thing harry and the goblin should be it’s own movie? or eddie brock and venom? maybe the story of peter parker has worn thin, but i don’t think so. i think this is just a sad little case of a movie trying too hard because of high expectations.

i wouldn’t be surprised if tobey’s next role is a serial killer ala harry potter nude in eqqus, just to break away from the web-slinger persona - what persona you say? exactly!

my advice- wait till this hits the dollar theatre.

the review and podcast are in the works. this is one that i read over spring break. and i thought that i’d share a recent mix tape (although no one makes mix tapes anymore - it’s all playlists - but still, putting certian songs, burning them on to a CD - that’s a mix tape) I made earlier this year.

Rochester
Febraruy 2007

Is Jesus Your Pal? - Gus Gus
Why? - Annie Lennox
The Scientist - Coldplay
What Happens Tomorrow - Duran Duran
Heart’s Desire - Ron Sexsmith
Essence - Lucinda Williams
The Night They Drove Ol’ Dixie Down - The Black Crowes (live)
Look on Down from the Bridge - Mazzy Star

this was in the CD player to and fro as i went down day after day to visit my brother at the mayo clinic. it was a hard thing. he died on february 5, four days after his birthday.

after reading love is a mix tape, i felt the need to share this. putting these songs together was such a deliberate act, these songs, that trip, knowing what the outcome was going to be.

strong and cold….the way i feel or the first two things that popped into my head as i noticed my morning cuppa tea was sitting on the counter unattended?

probably TMI right? at least you know there is nothing creeping up my ass at the moment. i am an anti-thong kind of a girl. and it’s not just a fat-ass thing either, because yes i have a fat-ass. i just think thongs are gross - they are for strippers only. not that strippers are gross (some are, but not all).

anyway - why am i bringing this up? well, it became very apparent to me while in AZ that most of uncle and auntie arizona’s friends are all our age, late thirties to early forties. i know, i know - you thought i was a moody teenager with all the whining i do. but i am definitely in that 34-39 catagory. so are all the other AZ moms. but here is the difference. they wear thongs and borrow clothes from their tween daughters. which i think is wrong. i’m all for sitting in a garage and drinking beer, you know a couple of times in the summer, but that’s all they do. and the mom’s, they all wear thongs.

here is my take on the whole thing - don’t try to be your kids best friend. they will have enough friends without your awkward attempts at being hip or cool. kids need their parents to be parents. they need someone to say no - putting the hose in the dog’s butt is NOT a good idea. and i think thong wearing leads to this kind of “buddy” parenting.

i could never wear my mom’s clothes and i’d be hella embarassed if she tried to wear mine. luckily i was a good five inches taller than she was, so nothing of her’s was going to fit anyway. and to keep her from my clothes i kept them on the floor of my room for about five years.

but for these mom’s who are trying to be their daugters - a very gentle come on. leave the tramp stamps, thongs, and partying until 3AM to the youngins. embrace your “fortyhood”. wear diamonds and pearls and stop buying shit at claire’s. enough with the coors light - chardonnay isn’t that bad - buy it in a box if you have to! tell your kids no and send them to bed once in a while. eight year olds should NOT be following the plotlines to CSI or NCIS, and you shouldn’t be THAT into Smallville. anyone over the age of 23 who thinks lindsay lohan is a good actress should be taken out and shot. you should stay in the age of “grease” not memorizing the words to “high school musical”.

i personally can’t wait for my thirties to be over. it’s been a shit decade (with the very large exception of my daughter). i earned my Coach bag - thank you very much. it will be a huge comfort to not have to go through all of the awful teen years again - i am only going to be a guide. what’s wrong with dressing like one?

sorry to be so traditional sounding, but i love my cotton undies. yeah, i have some sexy ones, but i don’t need something flossing my balloon knot to keep me to feel like i’m not getting older.

i am trying to channel my anger into one single word - simplify. after being in AZ for two weeks (which i’ll admit is a long stretch, but whenever you go on vacation, everyone says “oh, let’s stay another week”. so i just cut out the bullshit and book two weeks from the get go). however, hubbin wasn’t thrilled. and didn’t say he wanted me to come home - lord no. that would actually be admitting some kind of romantic ideal that he needs me, he did say he wants us to “be a family again, at home”.

and i’ve come to the realization that there will never be ‘just me’ in his eyes. i’ll always share the stage with work and boo and whatever else life throws at us. which is fine, which is fair. but just now, i know down to my bones, i’ll never have his full attention.

i got home and he barely said anything to me, we went out to dinner - which was a treat for me, but i felt like i was forcing him to do it. he put boo to bed, rubbed my leg for two seconds to “say hi”, then feel asleep. the house is a fucking mess. i understand that he’s been working on the basement, but COME ON. i mean, even on my days, boos is taken care of and i try to throw something together to eat. i bring the mail in.

i could chew through concrete i’m so mad. but again, i am trying to channel that anger into one word - simplify.

the nice thing about AZ is that the house doesn’t have any extra shit it in. it’s just what you need, and if it’s not there, you don’t need it. the bad thing about coming home is that there are like three rooms in the house that we never use - and they are filled with crap. i’ve never been more committed to having a garage sale in my life.

i wish i could say that i’m glad to be back. but i’m not. i’m just not.