Physical Exam

Dear Stupid Body,

I am so glad I quit smoking for your health and well-being. It's fabulous that you have decided to reward me by producing massive amounts of cholesterol (210) even though I work out and eat healthy. So mad at you right now. Why do I even fucking bother? If I didn't have kids I would fumigate you with cigarette smoke and pickle you with whiskey right now. Fuck You.

Love, K

In Dreams

When we sleep, is our mind a crap shoot that food-processes nonsense into a mental smoothie for us to enjoy as we re-coup from our day? Or is it something more.

I dreamed I was in love with someone else and when I awoke I was heart broken. When I say heart broken, I mean like, all I wanted to do today was make a mix tape (remember those) of sentimental songs ** and sing along to it while eating Cheetos and staring listlessly off into space.

Mind you, I am a happily married woman with an awesome family and would never dream of cheating on my husband but still...why do these things feel so real? Is it "emotional cheating" to feel this way? I almost feel guilty.

I actually went so far as to call this person just to make sure it wasn't real. The message I left went something like this "Hi B! How the hell are ya! I had this weird dream about you. So um okay. Call me back, Byieeeee."

Moments later I got a call back and felt like a complete retard. Especially when I was asked what this dream was abut, No doubt he thought I prophecized his death or something equally morbid. What could I say. Strangely, it wasn't awkward and we had a nice conversation.

Perhaps these sorts of dreams are the mind's way of acknowledging something that's there but just isn't meant to be? I don't know. But what I do know is that I probably made his day by calling and it was great to hear from him. I made someone happy. And maybe that's what the mental clutter from last night was all about. Reaching out.

Then again, I often have a recurrent dream that Johnny Depp and I used to date in high school and I drag out a shoe box from under my bed, full of old letters and photos from him to me to prove this to everyone.

That being said, I really can't take my mind as seriously as I'd like to.

** 'ASTRONAUT' BY LUNA

I wanna plug you in

I wanna get you things

Send you a pentagram

Feed you diazepam

I wanna play the game

I wanna live again

I wanna bend your spoons and make your

Silver shine

I'll wear a stylin' mustache

You'll wear a frozen smile

We'll run like Tamil Tigers

We'll drink the poison vial

I'm not the Jack of diamonds

I'm not the six of spades

I don't know what you thought

I'm not your astronaut

Because our surly stare

Is so revealing

Because your feet are bare

My eyes are peeling

Because your mistletoe

Because I gamble

Because I told you so

My eyes are scrambled

WTF?

How the hell did I just end up following my own blog?

On My Mind

2 things on my mind right now...

1. In my spare time I am: a rock star, a fashion model, a make-up artist, a hair-stylist, a journalist, a film critic, a satirist, and a hell of a good cook. This may be all in my head, but seeing as I am good at doing at least 4 of the aforementioned, I believe I am not totally deluded.

2. I have decided to stop plucking my eye brows until they grow in full and thick like Brooke Shields.

Bloggity Blog Blog Blog

A friend of mine, who I'll call Sanchez, has come up with this challenge to do something creative everyday for a year, starting June 1st. While I would have loved to accept that challenge, I thought "Wow - I'm just way too lazy". "I never finish anything" and "But". As Pee -Wee Herman once said "Let's talk about your big 'But'.

My Big But goes something like this - I'm tired, my kids wear me out. I end every night the same way - 1/2 hour of elliptical and then an hour & a half staring at the telly like the Village Idiot. Then I get mad because I feel like a loser who does nothing but washes dishes and changes diapers. Because I feel like a loser, my self-esteem dips. Then I start hating my life and feeling sorry for myself. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Sanchez got me thinking - maybe it's time I started actually living again. She posted something in her blog about how this challenge was meant to help her work on projects that would allow her to do something creative each and every day - something she loves to do because it makes her happy. She's right. Our roles of women take on more and more meaning the older we get. We work, become wives, mothers, manage the house hold, etc. Because we wear so many hats, it's so easy to fall into a rut and forget to do things for ourselves. I know I have.

Don't get me wrong - I do feel fulfilled as a mom. My kids are the apple of my eye and I could not imagine life without them. But - just cuz we're moms does not mean that we have to focus entirely on our children and forget ourselves in the process. It's taken me 3 and a half years to finally figure this out. Part of this is because I'm about to have a nervous break down, the other part is due to Sanchez.

I am a creative person. I make music, I write, I do arts and crafts, I create. No more will I say to myself that I used to be these things. No more will I put these things on hold for the day when I am not too tired to do them. I may not be able to do something creative every day for one year but I sure as hell can practice the piano and put a couple of stitches in the baby blanket I've been working on since my son was in utero. I can update my blog every now and then. I can, I will.

Why?

I am not new to blogging, I just cannot come up with anything interesting to write. Probably because I am so tapped out from long days spent with my kids. All of my great ideas seem to disappear after 10 pm.

Breaking My Blogger Cherry

I have arrived.