Collection of the Depraved and the Inane

Well, my crush on green-eyed columnists continues, for shame, for shame. Can't seem to turn off obsessiveness, anymore than I can turn off a movie starring Keanu Reeves. Keanu Reeves? Yeah, that came out right.
Anyway, life continues on. I had a very strange dream last night that someone punctured my ears with their fingernails, which have been hurting lately. Now they are draining into my throat (not the ears but the stuff in 'em), which is even weirder. Who say that dreams aren't compensatory mechanisms? By God and by golly, they are! So there you go. I also discovered that the Perry Ellis coat donated to me by philanthropist-minded people has a rip in the seams. Almost -- it's on the verge. Rather annoying as I do not sew, and now I feel bad b/c I must have sat on it wrong or something. Ah, no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to do anything but destroy material goods. Guess I care more about ideas.

It's alchemy, people, it's alchemy! Chemistry between people is part of that, ain't it? Amazing how with some people you can feel like an ass and with others like the most glorious, gifted creature on earth. Strange that way, eh? I guess that's the way life goes and that's what makes it maddening and delicious simultaneously. I read somewhere (and the less you read of this shit, the better) that some people's egos get along better with some egos versus others. You know what I mean.

Well, I'm just a lonely horny thirty-something woman trying to make sense out of a pretty painful life -- and, if nothing else, I am honest. Forsooth, I just saw a man wearing a hat that reminds me of the cat in the hat -- hmm. Today I'm wearing a rather icky blue hat b/c the other one has flowers on it and is not exactly my thing. Maybe that should be my birthday present to myself -- I need a new hat. I had a nice birthday but am still living in depressing circumstances and now there is trouble regarding a family member and I am still not working and am sick of dealing with heartless government agencies and you get the picture, people. Ah, if only such a thing as love existed! Besides ripped coats.

You get the picture, my drift, etc., etc. My watch just beeped -- hmm. This watch tends to go off periodically when I am most stressed making me quite sure it's owned by satan. Little "s", have no fear, only God is here. Anywho, Mr. Cat in the Hat just walked by -- why do so many men resemble serial killers? Why do so many look angry? Are we all just angry people at heart? Guess so, at least in part. Sigh.

Sorry this is such a depressing post doing nothing to contribute to the collective sanity of the world, which seems sorely in need of inspiration or a new media outlet, at the very least. I am bummed Billary/Hillary is not doing so well and sick of the media's ardent endorsing of Obama, as if it's all in the bag. The dude strikes me as being somewhat arrogant, but hey, what do you expect? All politicians in the spotlight probably are by nature if not by default.

So there we have it. I must go now and dream a better dream, but all I feel like doing is weeping into a giant box of cornflakes. I think I will purchase some artificially colored food to help with my PMS (yes, you knew this was hormonal in part!) and then dream that dream. Without worry, without stress, without pain.

Love,
Moi

Cleanse and Heal Thy Psyche if You Dare

Well, I did it. I created a new blog. Just like someone, out there, is creating a baby, a new hair care product, or, in the case of the United States, attempting to bring back that elusive thing known as democracy. Not that it's ever been liberty and justice for all, mind you, but anything is better than the Bush administration. God knows anything is better. I'd take aliens from outer space at this point, and we have many more bloody months to go. Let's hope that they aren't bloody, but fruitful and uplifting. Any new energy is good at this point methinks.

So life goes on. Lately am dealing with a deeply driven disappointment in the human race in general and the usual torture that is the Piscean legacy. We inherit the psychic crap of the universe, apparently. Next incarnation I'll return as an Aries and tear up the turf. At present I simply lust for an Aries; he's married with three kids, but I pretend his wife has had a particularly galling scuba diving accident. Ah, I never said I was kind. Seriously, all of my crushes go nowhere, but maybe I don't think I deserve a relationship. That's what a Psychobabblist would say if I paid 'em good money. I say, please leave me in peace, then bemoan the general impatience, rudeness, and insensitivity of this age. Where did love go, anyway? Did we ever have it? Can we bring about Dorothy Day's revolution of the heart? Will anyone ever read this blog besides some bored tech type at blogger.com?

Ah, questions with no answers. Gotta love 'em, right God? God gets a lot of questions; he's the Q&A man, but the answers seem...nebulous, at best. Or so it seems to me.

I'm rereading Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale and trying not to let the new case manager at my residential living program (or whatever the fuck they like to call this fucked up place) get to me. She is kind of like crystal light; sweet at first but then maybe not so good for you. I go to many fruitless appointments, and today paid six dollars for cranberry juice and never even noticed. Tres scary, eh what? I'm also annoyed with about fifty people but that's OK, that's just the way it goes. I'm just having a hard time balancing my needs with someone else's. Ah, more psychobabble! How can we ever be sure the words coming out of our mouths are our own? I need to find mine, that's for sure.

I also need cheaper cranberry juice, some good lovin', and maybe a new place to live away from incredibly difficult endless and incredibly annoying dsyfunction. Did I say "incredibly" enough? Great word, actually; one that gives off almost palpable sparks.

Tomorrow is another day. I am still alive. The world is a vampire, set to drain, and certain men may never love me but somewhere is someone for everyone, or so they say.

You ain't nothing but a hound dog...crying all the time.