they just keep coming...

Last night's dream:

I'm in the playground of an elementary school and there are people milling about all over the place. Out of the corner of my eye I spy a former flame, who I had been off and never-quite-on with for quite sometime. My first instinct is to flee, safe under my cloaking device, but in a moment of illogical empathy and understanding I decide to say hello.

Disarming my cloaking device I approach him. Within moments, I'm regretting my decision and wish I had my cloaking device again so I could sneak away. I find myself disappointed and vaguely disgusted with the self-absorption and arrogance, not to mention the lack of remorse or even recognition for harm done in the past. Instead I feign a need for the bathroom, and duck around a portable and make my escape.

Later, I am on a break from work and taking my daily walk. The point of view is sketchy, I am looking only at my feet as I carefully make my way along a steep embankment. My eyes close and flutter open - I am suffering a case of narcolepsy. I wake in front of the Bay Street building, looking up at the darkened glass and realizing that not only have I been sleepwalking through town, I've also Rip-Van-Winkled myself right through the five-o-clock whistle, and everyone has gone home for the night.

Just as I start to panic, wondering how I'm going to get home with my keys locked in the building, I happen to notice them hanging from a nail near the entranceway. On one hand, I appreciate the gesture, however on the other I know this means that my absence has definitely been noticed.

It is daylight again, early winter, and I'm back in the Bay street lot with a couple of non-recognizable friends. I run up the street to meet up with a very Irish looking young guy - red hair (in dreads and a kerchief) very pale, freckles and a sort of fu-manchu type facial hair. It seems my faceless friends are trying to set me up with
this gentleman. He has a sort of adventurous 'back-packing through the mountains' type air about him. However, he also seems completely disinterested in any type of conversation with me, and walks along rather stoically, responding only with the occasional grunt.

Back at the lot we're met by a friend from far away and his wife and new baby. I'm quite excited to see them, it's been a while. While we are all socializing, night falls suddenly and a snow whips up out of nowhere. the group of us decide to take shelter in a small indent in the side of the building.

Then I woke up.

Oh Subconcious, why must you mock me so...

This is what I've wanted and it's happening here, now. Sweet merciful Christ. I can feel tears of happiness springing to my eyes. I'm joyous. My heart feels like it's going to explode. All the pain, frustration, confusion is wiped clean with a few simple sentences. The wait has paid off. The time has come today (young hearts will go their way). My mind races with the possibility of things to come. In all my life, I've never felt such excitement for the future, never so high.

It's dark. I'm alone in my bed.

Oh No. No. Dammit, no. NO.

I remember the scene and pick out details, all the little details that didn't quite make sense.

Yes. *sigh*

Close my eyes, try to sleep. I want to go back, I want to go back.

Returning to sleep I'm rewarded only with a bizarre mishmash of images and scenarios that can only be described as odd.

A friend's former flame asks if he can 'call' me - I am conflicted.

Picking my children up from their dads, the couple that used to live there are creating a fantasy world out of Legos. There's a popular sitcom playing on the television, but today's episode features hardcore nudity (and No, it's not The Simpsons) so I try and shield the childrens eyes and hurry them out.

I'm in a Zellers, and having made one small purchase, I try to bypass the huge crowds by going through the vestibule to get to the registers, and I am stopped and accused of 'stealing' a Discman that is A) quite obviously used and B) a good ten years old. I'm told to pay for it despite my argument that I've not only bought it somewhere else, that I also bought it second-hand. The other employees cheer as the first berates me.

The narrative is sketchy, at best. Haw Haw Haw.

My first obscene work call. NSFW

So it's about 4pm this afternoon and this call comes into the HelpDesk

Me: Thank you for calling ****, this is Andrea speaking
Perv: Yeah, hi. I'm stroking my c**k and I was hoping you could help me.

That can't be right. He did NOT just say what I thought he said. I must have misheard him

Me: What can I help you with?
Perv: Well, what do you look like? Are you a blonde? A brunette?
Me: Uhm.. sir. Do you have any questions about the site?
Perv: Nah, I was just stroking my d**k and ...
Me: Hrm. YEah. I'm hanging up on you now.

*click*

*****************************************************

This weekend was a twisted trail of mayhem and debauchery and grotesque mischief. Allow me to sum it up in a few words:

• Porn
• Formal wear
• Street frisbee.. erm 'titsbee'
• Last Call
• coffee
• Drunk dialing

I bet you're all curious now, aren't ya?

wishes really do come true..

So a little bit of bizarreness today. This morning I found myself reminiscing about one of my favorite childhood novels - Freaky Friday by Mary Rogers. Aside from Paula Danzigers 'The Pistachio Prescription', this book was probably the most-read in my collection. I read it about once a year from age 10 until about 17. Maybe more than once a year.

My oldest daughter is an avid reader, and was already into 'chapter-books' at the end of grade two. She's got a fair collection of books, and whenever I see something I liked as a kid I try to pick it up for her. She brought home 'Tales of a fourth grade nothing' from school this week and I was ecstatic.

ANyway, here I am reminiscing about Freaky Friday this morning. Tonight after work I had to take the girls grocery shopping, so we took a jaunt through the mall. DOwn by Staples they were having a Two-for-a-dollar book sale and lo and behold, there it is. Same edition I had as a kid and everything.

Needless to say, I scooped it, and tonight I listened to the girls giggle as we got through the first three chapters. It's just kind of funny how these things happen. I actually said to myself "Man, I wish I had that book again"

Boom. Kismet. Now I get to share something I loved with my girls. Wishes do come true.

I am a pacifist, this is why I remember...

November 11th is not a celebration of war.

It is a solemn reminder of the devastation that can occur when apathy and ignorance allows oppression to spread like a disease.

It is a reminder that all these things we take for granted, our freedoms, our comfort, can be snatched away in a moment.

Now with two generations of whom most of us have never known the fear or the loss of loved ones through war, it is more important that ever that our young be educated, and that those of my own generation educate ourselves. By forgetting our past, we are destined to repeat it.

I choose to acknowledge that we cannot fully appreciate peace without recognizing the atrocities of war.

I wear the red poppy out of respect and to educate. I wear it for my grandmother who lost not one but essentially two brothers in battle - one never returned, one returned, never the same. I will wear it ever November 11th so long as our battles are fought in defense, never in offence. In the name of freedom, not in gain.

Scraps

Received a compliment at work today. A long time user said we have excellent customer service. Being customer service, I was flattered.

Watched Paranormal Activity tonight. I screamed like a little girl. I am not afraid to admit it. A friend mentioned watching it at home and I can understand how it would be infinitely scarier to watch at home than in a theatre.

I've decided that Tony Danza Tapdance Extravaganza is one of the best band names ever, even if the band itself kind of sucks.

It has become necessary to move my art supplies inside if I want to get anything done over the winter. I lack the proper motivation to let the space heater get warm enough to work in the shed. Room may be an issue, but I think I can find a corner in the kitchen for the little cart.

working on songs for open mike nights. Going to get the nephew a regular sitting gig so I can get out during the week more often, meet some people with similar interests. Just get out more.

In line with the Tony Danza TapDance Extravaganza, here's some fun song titles (no comment on the actual songs themselves)

The Best Ever Death Metal Band In Denton
Daft Punk Is Playing at My House
If I Were John Cusack
Cliff Burton Surprise

Lastly, I have to mention that how adorable it is that my six-year-old, upon being lifted to go back to her own bed after crawling into mine, will occasionally still startle like a newborn. Maybe they don't grow up so quickly after all.

Cabin Fever

The children have been sick with something (h1n1? Generic influenza?) since Saturday. Well, the oldest has been sick since Saturday, the youngest since Sunday afternoon, off and on. The oldest is getting better now, and with better comes BORED, as she, like myself, has been cooped up in the house for the last three days.

The little one fights it, whereas the oldest was totally complacent in her illness. She goes through periods of sleeping, and crying and fever and nausea, and as soon as it subsides a little, she's up and insisting she's fine, and I have to make her lie down and rest. The oldest was content to sleep and watch movie after movie and not move if it could be avoided. For this reason, I think the little one may have a longer recovery time, if only because of her refusal to accept that she's actually sick.

I'm looking forward to getting out of the house tomorrow again.

Another Halloween has come and gone. I narrowly escaped being sick for the Hallows weekend with a heavy offence of Vitamin C, warm fluids and Cold FX. When the oldest fell ill I resigned myself to staying in and shelling out while the ex-hub took the little one Trick or Treating. We had a distinct lack of revellers on our street - maybe 20 in all. I attribute this to my street's distinct 'dark-and-gloomy' atmosphere. It's an older area, and not well lit, so it has a tendency to be fairly creepy. One would think this would be a GOOD thing this time of year, but I guess not.

Preparing for Christmas this year.. I'm feeling the pressure. I picked my sister's name in our draw this year and her reaction was 'OHHHH! I'm gonna get something AWESOME!' Not to make her out to be a materialist, she's just speaking from experience. Two years ago, a search for a discontinued Starbucks coffee mug (a mug that held a great deal of sentimental value, eventually located in Thailand through an eBay auction) resulted in possibly the best gift-reaction face ever.

At any rate, that's gonna be a hard act to follow. One of my main irritations with the holiday season is the emphasis on material goods. Someone once said, "It's about giving.. not recieving". Bull. Unless you're referring to being charitable and helping others, that statement just kind of emphasizes the feeling of obligation. I prefer to place an emphasis on time spent with friends and family, but every year despite my best intentions I get sucked in. I don't mean to be a drag, but I shudder when I enter stores the day after halloween and the Christmas marketing machine is already in full swing. It's enough to make me want to be a hermit. Don't get me wrong though.. I love gifting people, when it's something I've had time to put thought into. I'm looking forward to coming up with some inspired (but budget-friendly) gifts for my loved ones this year.