I aimed for 'sweet' dreams, alls I got was weird.

Okay.. so bear with me, this gets a little strange. Surprise surprise.

There's a beach, with a dock. The dock is painted with colorful scenes in bright primary and secondary hues.

On the other side of me, is an open field, with a few trees on the perimeter. It's a bright, cloudless day, and there are little african children in colorful daishiki's (I don't know how to spell it. *shrug*) running in and out of the trees. The impression I get is the Savannah, or my imagination's interpretation of it, anyway.

Looking to the horizon, I see dozens of birds soaring through the air. A closer look shows they are not actually birds, but cows that look as though they are being catapulted through the air. I whip out my phone and start trying to take pictures of the flying cows that are thankfully off in the distance, because at some point it occurs to me that it may be dangerous to be in an area that is being over-run with cows that are plummeting to the Earth.

Yeah, analyze that, Freud.

The things you think when alone in a thrift store change-room.

They're generally a lot more interesting than the things you think when you're on a 100kmph highway in the middle of a blizzard. Those are generally limited to things like "Holy hell, I'm going to die and I've never seen France!" and "Why did I decide a stereo was a better investment than snow tires?"

Thankfully, I didn't have those thoughts today. Despite dire warnings, driving to Barrie today was uneventful, thankfully.

As of today, I'm almost divorced. Most people respond to that with 'Oh, I'm so sorry'.

I'm not.

Oh, once upon a time I was, granted. It's always sad when a marriage ends. But I've gotten over all that ages ago. Now it's just a relief. You see, I hate paperwork. Hate it. And bureacracy. I even hate spelling bureacracy. The squiggly red spellcheck lines are mocking me as I type this. The whole time I've been gathering these forms and filing these papers the only thing I could think was "Why can't I live in a society where I could jump backwards over a broom, or shout 'I divorce you' three times and be done with it?"

Even this morning, I could barely sleep as I feared I had forgotten some crucial element that would stall the proceedings further. Keep in mind, I've been separated for seven years. The woman at the Barrie court house was exceedingly helpful and patient with my ongoing confusion as to what needed to be where. Even offered a wet-wipe when the pen leaked on my hand. When I got everything signed I paused in disbelief.

"So there's really, absolute NOTHING else I need to do? For serious?"

Sweet sweet relief.

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

I have a wedding coming up in march that I'm attending. This necessitates the need for something pretty to wear. I go through a lot of clothes lately with the weight loss. I do have a dress I could have worn, but there's nothing like a good excuse to buy one.

I can almost say without a doubt that, bridesmaid dresses notwithstanding, I have probably never paid more than 25 bucks on clothes for formal occasions. I'd almost dare to say $20, but I think my dress for my grade 12 semi was $22.

I have a weakness for thrift stores, especially value Village, because it's so huge, that I can spend hours in there. There is an art to thrift store shopping in such a large venue, however.]

• Leave yourself time. Like, 2-4 hours.
• Go to your size range. Grab whatever looks even remotely interesting. Put it in the cart.
• TRY EVERYTHING ON. EVERYTHING.
• When trying things on, if you don't immediately go 'My god, it's beautiful', let it go. This prevents a lot of regrets down the road and helps reduce the chance of a coronary at the till.
• In change rooms with a 'three things at a time' policy, try the smallest of your three things first, moving to the largest. There is nothing worse than having to change back into your street wear to go get more things because you weren't able to do up that last pair of pants.
• Unless you are a avid and talented seamstress, eliminate "Well, maybe I can hem/let out/take in this piece" from your vocabulary. You won't.
• Unless you are actively participating in a weight management program that has shown some actual results, eliminate "Well maybe if I lose five pounds" from your vocabulary. You won't.
• Bring a friend, when possible. A close friend, with decent taste, who appreciates the thrift store aesthetic. A close, honest friend who, when you look at them with shimmering hope in your eyes, will not be afraid to say "No, not a chance. Take that off and let's never speak of it again." Do not take a significant other. You may, with caution, take your mom. Take close note of your mother's fashion sense before you cross that bridge.

I find, while wandering the aisles and standing alone, half-naked and vulnerable in the change rooms that some odd, random thoughts cross my mind

Skinny jeans have been sent here by Satan himself.

I am jealous of women who are able to buy knee high boots. When I am rich, I will have a half dozen pairs custom made for my wonky-assed legs.

Occasionally I see something I think is incredibly cute, like a shirt with a lot of pink and skulls on it and go 'Oooo so cute'. And then I pause and think "Oh right. I'm almost thirty."

And then I put it back.


Not too shabby for 10 bucks eh?

Not to be morbid or anything..

But when I die, please play this at my service:



Do You Realize that you have the most beautiful face
Do You Realize we're floating in space
Do You Realize that happiness makes you cry
Do You Realize that everyone you know someday will die

And instead of saying all of your goodbyes
Let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun doesn't go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round

Do You Realize Oh - Oh - Oh
Do You Realize that everyone you know
Someday will die

And instead of saying all of your goodbyes -
Let them know you realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun doesn't go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round

Do You Realize - that you have the most beautiful face
Do You Realize


Please, though.. leave the craptacular fan vid at home, thanks.

it's what you might call content, this feeling...

I was told long ago that I had what is called a 'reverse aura'. For most people, their aura expands when experiencing positive emotions, and contracts with the negative. To put it simply, when sad, we withdraw, emotionally, sometimes physically even, taking into consideration the hunched posture of someone who is 'down in the dumps'. Happiness causes one to stretch, to reach out and make our presence known to others.

Well, let it not go unsaid that I've always been a bit of an odd duck.

Anyway, it seems I have what is considered a reverse aura. If I'm angry, upset, whathaveyou.. people are gonna know. It's palpable. However, I tend to withdraw when I'm happy. Not necessarily excited, but content. This is probably the reason I haven't had much to say. Life is good, there's not much to complain about, and the stuff that I could complain about seems, well, kind of incidental.

I'm just kind of riding the wave, trying not to jinx anything. Trying not to get 'how I get' and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Can the other shoe drop if both feet are on the ground? I'm just trying to enjoy the good I've been experiencing. Life is, both figuratively, and somewhat literally, full of music and color.

Being appreciated as a woman is nice. Feeling attractive, feeling as though I'm worth spending time with, all great. Enjoying all this, enjoying the company of someone who shares in my interests and makes me want to know more about his, talking for hours. The comfortable silences. Being able to run with it all and just ENJOY, without overanalyzing (too much) or worrying - well, for me, it ain't easy. I'm a worrier, and a bit of pessimist. But I'm trying. and it's good. (don't wanna jinx it though.)

knock wood, y'all.

The Geographically Ignorant Blues

I started working on a new paint project tonight. It's a depiction of Robert Johnson and the Devil at the cross roads. For those unfamiliar with the tale, and also too lazy to click and read the wiki link, Robert Johnson was a 1930's blues musician who was rumoured to have made a pact with Satan in order to be come the best blues guitarist the world had seen.

The picture itself is going to end up having a 'Western Shootout' feel, I think, along with being rife with historical innacuracy. First of all, reading further into the legend, this deal was allegedly made at midnight, but for some reason, I always picture it taking place at high noon, with the sun blazing overhead.

The other issue I've discovered is that, being less-than-well travelled, I have no freaking idea what the Missississipi delta (where the deal went down - The corner of Highway 61 and Highway 49 to be precise) looks like, let alone what it looked like in the 1930's. I have to stop myself from making it look like the California desert. I guess to me, it just makes sense that if you're making a pact with Satan, it's going to be hot as hell out and my imagination is merely reflecting that string of logic.

Incidentally, as I twisted the dial on the hi-fi looking for some good, creative 'mood music' (The Dock was NOT doing it for me tonight) I happened upon CBC Radio One who just happened to be playing 'Saturday Blues Night'. How's that for kismet? I think public radio gets a bad rap.

smile.

My mood this week? Incredible.

I stepped in cat vomit yesterday and even that couldn't bring me down. Well, once I changed my socks, anyway.

True story.