think outside the box

this is what i often hear in my head whenever i complain to myself that i don't express myself creatively. you see i have these two friends that have listened to me complaining that complaint so many times before and they give me the gifts that i ask for but then never wear. colorful clothes and hats and scarves. sometimes i wear them within moments of receiving it. i've hardly finished admiring the gift and before i know what's happening, i look in the mirror and my hair has just been redone by myriams fast working hands, complete now with new scarf or hat, or both. and she looks at me and says emphatically.."see...it looks fabulous!". or i sincerely but hesitantly say thank you to ruth for giving me a beautiful sheer blousy dressy type shirt...and ruth, immediately sensing my hesitancy gently tells me...."linda, you're going to have to think outside the box".

well nearly 2 years after receiving this beauty of a shirt as a birthday gift, i finally did it. i've tried it on before but never actually worn it. but yesterday i was getting ready for 2 parties and was going through the usual mental self beating about how all my clothes are the same, boring, traditional, colorless and then thought of how cute some of the women that i was about to see always dress and then i once again thought of ruth and myriam going through my closet and drawers and always finding fun and colorful 'things' that i already possess but that somehow my eyes most often don't even see anymore, as if they're invisible. and i pulled out this gift i received so long ago, took the tag off and i decided to wear it. and it felt so good. and i felt so feminine. and that felt so good. and i really wasn't sure of the earrings and necklace but i wore them anyway. and that felt good. so i went out yesterday dressed in empowerment that i put on when i decided to express my feminine side more than i usually do. and that felt good, too.

think outside the box. okay. okay. i will. i will always try. i will always remind myself to do this.

here is a couple of pics from yesterday - max wearing his rockin ACDC shirt under his calvin klein button down and me in my colorfully feminine birthday gift from 2006!

Oh Thank God

Oh thank god.
thank god for the two of you.
thank god for checking in this morning and feeling you two here.
i thank god for this feeling and thank you for writing and feeding me.
you are as important a high nutrient as any dark leafy green...
the blog has saved me from the depths of some strange sadness today
your writing, your accomplishments....your peaceful sleep after revelations
your breaking through to anger and learning to understand your deep feelings
you both are light and in action, letting your light shine through this blog has lifted my spirit today.
so thank you.

i just re-read that first paragraph and would like to be clear that i have not converted to christianity or any other pious-type religion....and though it reads very religious, what i am saying is that i have never been happier to see this blog updated. so don't worry...i have not converted to a high nutrient vegan christian fuck. could you imagine? not that i have anything against christians and their faith - well...you know what i mean....

so like i was saying.....i think its soooo funny that max likes the word "poop" because lately, I have been serious loving everything about poop! haa haa.
i love to poop, i love to talk about poop, i love to analyze the poop and give it numbers....'cause sometimes the poop isn't just a #2.....sometimes it rates so much higher than that....like a 3.5....and this is all so new to me...'cause most of my life...i've avoided the poop as much as possible....to the extent of holding it in whenever possible so i wouldn't have to poop...not only as a child ...but as an adult too....which sort of means i've been backed up, constipated...for most of my life.....
but not anymore....the poop's a flowin' .....two - sometimes three times a day ....i like the poop ritual....i'm so sorry you have to read this myriam.....well i'm sorry too, for you, linda....but it makes myriam more squirmy - so i'm sorry but to not be backed up is my own type of revelation....i think it symbolizes ....................Flow. : )

also, it does seem that we are indeed, headed to france.
we are going to france for a year.
yes, i'm excited.
and i'm scared, apprehensive, fearful, mad, worried, nervous, anxious, uptight, skeptical and i don't know...pouty.
scared because i'm worried the french consolate in L.A. will discover that i'm not worthy to go to france for a year and say "no"
apprehensive because i've lived in long beach for 18 years and everyone will know i don't belong because i'm long beach white trashy type with no style and lots of wrinkles.
fearful because its a long flight and i've never been to europe before....i've not been to europe before because i've never been a very good financial planner and save enough money to go so and now is no different so i'm sure its going to fall through.
mad because i want desperately to feel at ease about going away and experiencing a new culture in the way i've always wanted to and i feel stuck so i'm mad
worried because smokey and i have just started to get along and love each other and i'm going to abandon her yet again and i can't bring myself to call Rosemary and ask if she would still like to keep her for the year....and not to mention i'm sure she won't want to keep her anymore because she already got a new kitten and forgot she ever was excited to house her....so i haven't called her
nervous because . just because.
anxious because of all of the above and i won't be in the same city as my friends.
uptight. because who has this opportunity and isn't flitting around and enjoying the excitement of it??
skeptical because it seems too good to be true....
and pouty....because i am...so there. fuck.
and i didn't want to say all this shit because i don't want to invite that shit into my world. hence, "backed up" again.
but i suppose its better to get it out there so it can be transmuted into FLOW and then the light can shine through it and make it dissolve into nuthingness....and then we can move on to manifesting the goodness of it....getting back to the good flow of things...sorry for the bowel analogies...they've come so naturally.

the alchemy of it. the transmutation of spring cleaning into peaceful sleep
the transmutation of deep anger and self loathing into understanding and self compassion
and when i feel the movement from stuck to fluid ......i'll let you know.
i did receive my passport in the mail.
i am smiling in the photo. : )
i am thankful for this spot in cyberville.

PS. You have a beautiful new ride..i dont' know, Myriam...the photo shows the feminine qualities of her...i think she looks like a she....beautiful. congratulations!! May lenda enjoy her well deserved retirement. I hope the new generation will have Lenda plates??? I don't know If I can bear not seeing that car parked around town....ohhh the changes...the wonderful changes.

Spring Cleaning

Perfection is a word I don't really like very much. It interferes with living life. I get wrapped up in needing "it" to be just right. I get stuck into stagnation because I don't know how to do "it". But what I'm really saying is I don't know how to do "it" perfectly. Alright - sometimes it does matter to do things correctly. Like say...removing someone's appendix or filling up Max's bottle with formula instead of a pina colada but it isn't life or death.

I say this because I've had a few posts that would be fun to share which I have either started or thought...just short but funny things...like when I was talking to Myriam on the phone and asked her if she and Kerry wanted to buy a Salem "Condom" when I meant to say Salem "Condo" (i guess watching an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm titled "Everlast" about condoms the night before had crept into my sub conscience). Or I was going to mention that one sure way to make Max smile is to say the word Poop to him...he loves it. It's very funny. Or to discuss this internal debate I'm having...as I sit here and slowly savor each bite of a chocolate chip cookie with dried cherries that dave made last night, I wonder, again, if I can make a switch to a much more nutritious way of feeding my body and brain. I love food. I love Italian food. I love all food, really. Even the high nutrient way of eating.

I have not sat down to post it because I think I need the right time and the right environment and the right mood. And I get distracted easily. Blah blah blahdy blahdy blahdy blah. Phhhtt. I'm just so stinkin' bored with this train of thought. I'm actually propelled to action because I'm boring myself with my usual ways.

But the truth is that I love this blog. I love checking in on it and reading what my friends are up to...what's going through their brian and on in their worlds. It's a little different than email. A little closer and more personal. So I am giving myself a swift kick in the behind about my secret desire for perfection and I'm tossing it aside for anything other than that! It's time for spring cleaning here and as I was
falling asleep last night I had this overwhelming realization that it was time to not only clean this house but minimize. Get rid of EVERYTHING that is unnecessary...in this house...and in my brain. And suddenly I felt so peaceful and calm I just drifted off to sleep.

Lenda's Days are Numbered...

It's true, Lenda has been a wonderful companion but her health has taken a turn and we don't know how much longer she will be with us. She's been to different specialist but no one seems able to heal her. Perhaps that's just the way it's supposed to be. We have slowly been getting our wits about us and looking for another car. I think we've found her...see photo.

Wow when I started this post yesterday we had the possibility of a new car. This morning I wake up and she's in our driveway. Though, I'm thinking it may be a he. I'm mulling over options for Lenda. She's been so good to me, I want to honor her and find her a good home.

This week I've been asked to ponder anger, my anger that is. It seems that lurking below the surface of the lake may be some real murky shit. Hhhmmm, I can't seem to get in there though. I think about what I could be angry about, my siblings illness? But the inference is that the anger goes much deeper, suppressed in a way for years, layer on top of layer. I'm amazed at how much hatred I have for myself. I mean that as an honest observation. You can't believe the things I say about myself in therapy. It's such a strange sensation because while I'm saying things about myself, the tears stream down my face as I hear the words come out. I'm causing and reacting to the pain at the same time. One thing that's really eluded me is the notion of change. I feel so frightened about what I Will become if I no longer let this self-hatred run the show. Who will I be? I can't see her, I also can't feel her which is the strangest thing of all. One of the exercises I've been asked to practice is trying to reconnect with my body. So I sit or stand with myself and touch every part of my body and say out loud " this is my hand, it is a part of me, it belongs to me". I've done it a few times, but nothing yet. I'm hopeful with time it will create a different sensation. I must say that I do feel better. I still have the nervous energy and the dark moments still come but so do the light ones. Oh, and I'm also working on trying to remember that my cells have memory and the affects of the negative thinking creates an environment that supports that and if I can bring more positive thoughts into my head the cells will supported by a different environment and the energy will be better. What happens though is if I'm having a good feeling, the negative haunts. It sort of looms over and then I become fearful and everything goes to shit. It's a practice though and more days than not I'm up for the challenge.

See how the Lilies Break Open over dark water......

I have been teaching so much that I have become rather obsessed with my work....and its good work...so I love it....but its overwhelming to think about one subject the way I do....Its not just the anatomy that's rocking my world...Its the anatomy in relationship to the new diet lifestyle...I've been reading so much about the medical implications of our diets and the relationship to the body's cellular structure...and ...well I won't bore you with the details of it all...Suffice it to say that the two subjects are so closely linked, that the nature of the way I'm teaching anatomy is changing to incorporate some of what I'm learning and its been a whirlwind.

AND The dreams are crazy. My dreams have been kerrraaazy. Last night in my dream, I seemed to think it was so totally acceptable to wear a great sweater to school. And yes, that's all well and normal, but the problem was, I didn't wear anything.....NUTHIN' on the bottom. A sweater. No skirt. No pannies. NUUTHIN ON THE BOTTOM. And off I go to teach my classes!! See, I ran out of things to wear and somehow, this not wearing anything on the bottom seemed perfectly acceptable....until towards the end of class, I was walking - fully clothed on the top - buck naked on the bottom - I was walking around the class and realized, like I had just taken a bite of an apple in the garden of eden, that I was suddenly self conscious.......(in real life, we've been so extraordinarily busy with school that all of our laundry is dirty, so I'm sure this has some influence in my dream) So that was crazy and I forced myself awake. Good stuff.
Below is a dream I had a few weeks ago and posted on my other blog, but thought you might want to know about that one too. My dream life is rather more intriguing that my waking life...unless you like to talk of cat muscles and student life....


Tuesday, February 5
I dreamed about teaching anatomy last night ....that's what I do for a living. I love teaching. Teaching gives me the opportunity to participate in the world I might not otherwise participate in.
I dreamed about teaching and it was strange the way dreams always are in the time and space themes. Sort of what I would imagine it would be like to be on acid - which I've never been on...not because I have anything against acid but because I never had the opportunity and I would have been chicken.
So back to my dream. I dreamed I was teaching my anatomy class and everything was unorganized and I couldn't get the right lighting to show my powerpoint presentation and time was all off and I stepped outside the classroom and it ended up being the hallway of Cal State Long Beach, where I completed my graduate work, and I saw an old classmate and time got away as it always does in dreams and when I stepped back inside the classroom, it was even more chaotic and also someone appeared in the back of the classroom to evaluate me and so I went to check the electrical socket to see if I couldn't find the source of confusion but only ran into a huge network of spider webs and got tangled there and spider bit me and then it was gooey and stuck to my shoulder so fell in a student's lap and while I was there I asked him if he could see a bite and it turned out the spider, big and dangerous looking, was stuck to my skin and he peeled it off for me.....I got up from the student's lap and headed to the front to finish my lecture only to find a large table with leftovers from the luncheon. I stopped to look and the evalutor who seemed serious and critical before jumped up and said "Yes, eat! There's so much left from lunch!" I looked inside a giant pan and saw juicy burgers on white bread buns. There were about 100 of them.
My body doesn't miss the meat but someone in there does. : )

JOY

from one of our clients...

The good fight by Paulo Coelho

“I have fought a good fight, I have kept the faith,” says Paul in one of his Epistles. And it seems appropriate to remember the theme now that a new year is stretching out before us.
Men can never stop dreaming. Dreams are the food of the soul, just as food is to the body. In our existence we often see our dreams come undone, yet it is necessary to go on dreaming, otherwise our soul dies and Agape does not penetrate it. Agape is universal love, the love which is greater and more important than “liking” someone. In his famous sermon on dreams, Martin Luther King reminds us of the fact that Jesus asked us to love our enemies, not to like them. This greater love is what drives us to go on fighting in spite of everything, to keep faith and joy, and to fight the Good Fight.
The Good Fight is the one we wage because our heart asks for it. In heroic times, when the apostles went out into the world to preach the Gospel, or in the days of the knights errant, things were easier: there was a lot of territory to travel, and a lot of things to do. Nowadays, however, the world has changed and the Good Fight has been moved from the battle fields to within us.
The Good Fight is the one we wage on behalf of our dreams. When they explode in us with all their might – in our youth – we have a great deal of courage, but we still have not learned to fight. After much effort we eventually learn to fight, and then we no longer have the same courage to fight. This makes us turn against ourselves and we start fighting and becoming our own worst enemy. We say that our dreams were childish, difficult to make come true, or the fruit of our ignorance of the realities of life. We kill our dreams because we are afraid of fighting the Good Fight.
The first symptom that we are killing our dreams is lack of time. The busiest people I have known in my life had time for everything. Those who did nothing were always tired and could hardly cope with the little work they had to do, always complaining that the day was too short. In fact, they were afraid of fighting the Good Fight.
The second symptom of the death of our dreams are our certainties. Because we do not want to see life as a great adventure to be lived, we begin to feel that we are wise, fair and correct in what little we ask of our existence. We look beyond the walls of our day-to-day life and hear the noise of spears clashing, feel the smell of sweat and gun-powder, see the great defeats and the faces of warriors thirsty for victory. But we never perceive the joy, the immense joy in the heart of those who are fighting, because for them it does not matter who wins or loses, what matters only is to fight the Good Fight.
Finally, the third symptom of the death of our dreams is peace. Life becomes a Sunday afternoon, not asking too much of us and not asking more than what we want to give. So we feel that we are “mature”, leave aside the “fantasies of childhood” and guarantee our personal and professional success. We are surprised when someone our age says they still want this or that out of life. But deep in our heart we know that what has happened is that we gave up fighting for our dreams, fighting the Good Fight.
When we give up our dreams and find peace, we enjoy a period of tranquility. But our dead dreams begin to rot inside us and infest the whole atmosphere we live in. We start acting cruel towards those around us, and eventually begin to direct this cruelty towards ourselves. Sickness and psychoses appear. What we wanted to avoid in fighting – disappointment and defeat – becomes the only legacy of our cowardice. And one fine day the dead and rotten dreams make the air difficult to breathe and then we want to die, we want death to free us from our certainties, from our worries, and from that terrible Sunday-afternoon peace.
So, to avoid all that, let’s face 2008 with the reverence of mystery and the joy of adventure.

An ode to myself as I return from the abyss

Etheridge Knight

Lord she's gone done left me done packed / up and split
and I with no way to make her
come back and everywhere the world is bare
bright bone white crystal sand glistens
dope death dead dying and jiving drove
her away made her take her laughter and her smiles
and her softness and her midnight sighs--

Fuck Coltrane and music and clouds drifting in the sky
fuck the sea and trees and the sky and birds
and alligators and all the animals that roam the earth
fuck marx and mao fuck fidel and nkrumah and
democracy and communism fuck smack and pot
and red ripe tomatoes fuck joseph fuck mary fuck
god jesus and all the disciples fuck fanon nixon
and malcom fuck the revolution fuck freedom fuck
the whole muthafucking thing
all i want now is myself back ( I changed this from woman to myself)
so my soul can sing

Standing on Solid Ground

Well, what a weekend. My first full weekend in a long time without restlessness, staying connected to myself and my mind not in overdrive. It was very full but had the promise of some very wonderful moments. Yesterday I awoke and went to the gym for my favorite class Pump and Pedal. When I got there to my surprise my regular teacher wasn't there and I immediately became uncomfortable and disappointed. The "new lady" said, "well, today's class will be a little different but still challenging. Will do a full hour of just spinning". To which I promptly replied much to my dismay " I HATE SPINNING AND I HATE YOU!!!!" Everyone including myself was aghast. After the shock of it I proceeded to pull a bike onto the floor and start cycling. It turn out she was a good teacher and even had some Stevie Wonder tracks in her music repertoire. So I left the gym and headed over to my clients house to bring her an invoice for work I did this last Friday. When I knocked on the glass window pane at the front door, I looked and saw they were having breakfast. I started to leave but Espie (my client) came out and hugged me and then said " would you like some breakfast?", "Oh no, I couldn't" "Please please come in we are having pork carnitas" Well who am I to turn down pork carnitas right after working out? It was as if God himself looked down upon me and granted me a wish without my asking. So clearly you know the rest of the story, I sat in a room of almost complete strangers that spoke almost no English, eating pork, listening to Mariachi and lovin every minute of it!

By the time I got home it was 3 O'clock and my performance for the Vagina Monologues was in 2.5 hours. Time to buckle down I thought. I set up the mirror in my little studio and read the piece twice, jumped in the shower and headed off to get Kim. We headed down to Morry's all the while, so distraught as to why in the world we had committed to doing this. I mean what the hell was I thinking agreeing to talk about my vulva in front of 50 people during the most challenging mental health month of my life??? I wore my new red dress that I got at Ross and black pants. The backroom at Morry's was all a bustle with people and suddenly it became very clear to me "I need a drink". But alas I decided to wait so as to not fall and trip in a drunken stupor as I went running from the room when they introduced me. It was all quite hysterical, literally, 7 women that barely knew each other get together and read the words of other women that barely know each other talking about their vagina's. Oh and as I start to scan the room, I notice two Cal Stat Professors sitting smack in the full frontal view of the performance area. Two lesbian Cal State Professors mind you. This almost sends me over the edge. Finally a friendly face Steve and his girlfriend arrive and I distract myself with them. Then in walks a handsome man all in black with two bouquets of flowers. Yes, it was. The Long Hair. Bringing his lady flowers. He had a gig and wasn't able to see my performance but came for a few minutes before heading out.
Finally after what seems like hours, the performance begins. It's all well and good until number 5 goes to the mike and I am number 6. I'm not sure what was wetter my hands or the pages I was holding and supposed to read from. SO they announce my name and much to my surprise people start clapping and calling out my name. I'm humbled. I go to the mike and with a quaky, achy, teeny voice say my first line. "I have always been obsessed with naming things". OK, I think here I am, this is OK, there is no turning back now. Suddenly,I lower the pages and I'm in character. I've crossed over and out of my mouth comes the words and I'm entranced. I proceed to share a story with my friends in a living room about disc covering my vulva. And guess what? They loved it and so did I.

Fluidity

fluid: adjective: able to flow easily; able to change; smoothly elegant or graceful.

i've always thought of myself as flexible. after reading the above definition i believe "fluid" is the word i'd like to use here. it's an accurate and beautiful description.

dave and i are in the midst of change again. although i have always ultimately embraced change very well - even longed for it and therefore created it, it usually does take me a bit of mental mulling to feel the chains of wanting disappear. wanting what i'm about to leave behind. wanting what i can't take with me. wanting just a little more time to finish the to do list and tidy up.

after thinking and talking and thinking and visualizing, i slowly begin to picture my next 'new way of life' and slowly feel the invisible leash that is holding me to those material desires fall away. and it is freeing. it's freeing to realize that i am indeed leaving behind certain physical things...my lovely first home, my cute little town with the post office and coffee houses a block away, the yarn store from which i never took lessons to knit, the gorgeous flower shop and that unbelievably fucking delicious beyond drool bakery that is RIGHT BELOW MY WINDOW (okay haven't come to terms with that one yet)... but the truth is, and this is going to sound corny and cliche, those are just physical things and physical things can be replaced (except the bakery, that can never be duplicated, unless i move to italy or france or spain).

the truth is that i some of my most fondest memories are during periods of huge life changes or challenges. the other thing i've come to realize is that although i love what my little town has to offer, i wish it were all set in a more rural location. what i've realized is that i long for a very simple, pure way of life. inside and out. and although i know i can achieve much of that through my perspective, the cost of living here forces us, me and dave, to keep one foot firmly planted in the rat race. we did just what we didn't want to do...slowly created an existence to which we're beholden. ick. phhttt. and as dave pointed out the other day, max isn't contributing financially (free loader) but he is a really good clarifier. living in salem, ma was fun for a while, but not important enough to me anymore to continue.


i want wide open spaces and a little garden and fresh air rushing in the open door.






p.s. i was going to name this post "a little Willie" cause i'm listening to willie nelson, but then thought it would send you two down the wrong path.

The Dance

Wow, today the sun is shining so brightly. I mean that literally and metaphorically. I had two difficult therapy sessions this week, lots of meds, highs but mostly lows. But today, today the sun shines so bright and my heart feels joy. It's wonderful. Welcome home joy I've missed you so. I sure hope you'll stay awhile. I drove home after crying in therapy last night and was stuck in traffic on 7th Street. I started fiddling with the radio and found a song, and started to dance in my car, first shyly then I released and enjoyed. Then went to hear some reggae with Kerry and he wrapped his arms around my waist and held and kissed me the whole night long. I let the music in and just stayed in the moment for some time. I remembered how important dancing is and how happy it makes me to be happy. AAAAH the dance.

Pumpkin Pie?? Too Funny and Sick....Really Sick, Myriam!

I was preparing for a lab exam on Tuesday - Skeletal system. Which means that I have to label parts of bones and the students look at the bones and answer questions about them. Its a tediously intricate project and one must stay present and focused in order to not make mistakes when preparing an exam like this. We also use authentic bones in some cases which are more difficult to come by now and so they are special to me and I would like the students to be careful with them while they are looking at them. The following is a Note I wrote on one of the notecards next to the bone model. I am so glad I checked over my work before I began the exam!

A.
1. Name this projection.
2. Name the roughened edge used for muscle attachment.

**NOTE: Please be gentle when handling this bone.

what??? I blush.

obsessive thoughts? yes.
i think the most important thing in creating peace in my world is when i "do" things, i really try to stay so focused on the process....making the process a joy or good for everyone involved - me and the others - and then outcome of the thing doesn't matter at all.

also, i find that i've stopped "setting goals" as much but am trying more and more to allow myself to be led to each place, project or person and then trusting is the challenge - that i'm right where i'm supposed to be....so giving over to the thing i've been led to is very most important thing. This makes for a less than material or glamorous life to outside world...but for me, I am feeling more content in the smallest enchanted moments that no one else sees....I think that's the important thing to recognize....Is what you're doing feeling right for you despite who ever knows about it or see it?
More later on this subject, but I'm off to see the budding anatomy students.

Jazz and Basketball...

seems to be the only things getting me excited these days. Well, that's not true, I'm enjoying working out and my work is a alrighty too. I've been spending evenings on the couch with Kerry watching the Lakers and really enjoying it. Then at working my streaming Jazz makes everything seem light. I did make it through last week and here we are in the middle of another week. Do you have obsessive thoughts? How do you quiet the mind? How do you know what to believe? I keep having this ovewhleming feeling that it's over, I've done everything, I don't have the desire really to do anything else. It feels freeing in some way to think about it because everything else seems so freakin big. It seems strange because I have done so much and now I don't know how? How did I go to Indonesia, how did I wake up at 5:30 am and work at a diner? How did I finish high school? The challenge is in replacing the thoughts. Well, not replacing actually shifting or hell I don't know. This is such a strange time for me yet I feel as if I've been saying that most of my life. P.S. I know the photo is not a basketball but it's the closet thing I could find that looked like one.

Good Morning Seepies.

instinct for sun nourishment - we go to the ends of the earth for it


Sleep deprivation. That is true torture and I can't even fathom what you must be going through and though I'm certain its no consolation, while I wasn't being seep deprived, I was having the worst fucking dream....I dreamed that I was - I think - on some type of vacation....Linda and Myriam were both there, I felt they were off doing "things" to "get ready" and one of my students and her husband - who was this guy I just saw on a movie - were there and I was late getting ready for us to all go out on our final night there or something and I had to be ready at a certain time and I hadn't taken a shower yet - which is really sucky for someone like me - so that probably doesn't sound like a big deal but it is....and in my dream it was.....and so I was helping my student put these earrings back onto this rack on the dining room table and they were categorized by like "bulky" "dainty" and shit like that....and I couldn't get them into the right little holes and they kept falling off or I'd put them into the openings that already had earrings in them and they'd get tangled and then Christy - that's my student....was showing me that I'd confused some of the "bulky" with the "dainty" - meanwhile time is marching on and then..- OH did I mention that as time was marching on, it was getting darker in the room, which was not only stressing me out because it represented the time but also because I couldn't SEE those Fucking little holes goddammit! So I asked Christy if we could turn on a light and she said she was going - she was showered and ready to go, by the way - to have a "Snicker" (which in my dream, I understood as a drink) with her husband....which I also understood to mean that the lights were staying dim for mood... so finally I get too worked up and some dainty earrings fall on the ground and I just kind of gather all the remaining and put them in a little pile....and try to go and get ready with what little time I have left.....the next thing you know, I have to go poop and its the next day on the farm - Linda's parents live on a farm....and so I have to go number 2 and don't you know the only toilet is the outside one in the middle of a small meadow. Yeah, so I go and sit on the potty to do my number and it all seems very quiet and nice and the sun is shining on my little pea brain and no body is around....I finish my business and am just about to get up when Linda's family start to come out strolling from every possible direction....just as innocently as could be....towards ME!!!!!!! I try to cover the potty and me with a sweatshirt that was on my lap and as I do so, I kind of fall in and ...(I'm finding it difficult to continue writing!!! aaaahhhh!!!) my bum hits the bottom of the pot so now I'm kind of like a cartoon character with my legs and arms sticking out and the rest of my torso deep in porcelain...can you fucking believe this??? If you think it can't get worse, it does. Jimmy has his camera with a lens on it that is about a foot long....and begins to photograph me on the potty.
I try to give him a decent shot....but then it's getting so fucked up, I just force myself AWAKE.
Fuck that.
good morning.
i love you both

Seep??

not sure what that is, but i'm pretty sure i'm deprived of it otherwise i would've spelled it correctly.