May 4, 2011
Something Completely Unrelated
This song just came on the radio and reminded me of this awesome adventure. Before I had rhythm. Which I DO have now. Seriously.
May 3, 2011
Alicia watches too much X Files.
[Before you start wondering if I should have said "too many X Files" rather than "too much X Files," let me explain my reasoning for the way I wrote it. Think of it as "Alicia watches too much (of one show)" and it makes sense. I'm not thinking "X Files" as in the plural of something. It's one show. Called X Files.]
I started watching X Files in December, when I visited some friends in Califorina. They showed me the first movie and a few random episodes. Since I had nothing going on with my life, I decided I would continue watching it at home because all the seasons stream on Netflix. Well, there were a few interruptions with business and a lack of internet, but I'm finally down to the very last seven episodes. Whenever I watch X Files, it is the only thing I can watch at that time, meaning I will watch an entire season in a couple of days. That usually affects my life in some way. Right now it's affecting my dreams (and how nervous I get being home alone).
I had the creepiest dream last night. A man was stalking me because he wanted to eat me. He kept trying to make fattening meals, to fatten ME up. At one point I was in a hotel room and somehow he came to be standing there. I kept trying to run away from him and he kept finding me and getting into wherever I was. [Turns out my hotel room had a couple doors that didn't secure.] I never remember the details and entire plot lines of my dreams very well, but I do know that this guy [and a woman, too] pursued me all over and they were creepy. They would just be in my room. They wouldn't attack but they would look and stare. Sometimes they would be cooking.
Then I woke up and my blind eyes mistook jackets and purses hanging on my door for a person in my room. Well, I just about had a heart attack right there. This dream wore me out so badly that I actually slept until my alarm for the first time in about five days.
I started watching X Files in December, when I visited some friends in Califorina. They showed me the first movie and a few random episodes. Since I had nothing going on with my life, I decided I would continue watching it at home because all the seasons stream on Netflix. Well, there were a few interruptions with business and a lack of internet, but I'm finally down to the very last seven episodes. Whenever I watch X Files, it is the only thing I can watch at that time, meaning I will watch an entire season in a couple of days. That usually affects my life in some way. Right now it's affecting my dreams (and how nervous I get being home alone).
I had the creepiest dream last night. A man was stalking me because he wanted to eat me. He kept trying to make fattening meals, to fatten ME up. At one point I was in a hotel room and somehow he came to be standing there. I kept trying to run away from him and he kept finding me and getting into wherever I was. [Turns out my hotel room had a couple doors that didn't secure.] I never remember the details and entire plot lines of my dreams very well, but I do know that this guy [and a woman, too] pursued me all over and they were creepy. They would just be in my room. They wouldn't attack but they would look and stare. Sometimes they would be cooking.
Then I woke up and my blind eyes mistook jackets and purses hanging on my door for a person in my room. Well, I just about had a heart attack right there. This dream wore me out so badly that I actually slept until my alarm for the first time in about five days.
Am I in Texas yet?
So back when I signed up for this long-@$$ temp job, my goal was to stay in STL at least until Katie's wedding, March 12. I had been looking for jobs, unsuccessfully, for two weeks by then. I had run out of money. My roommate was letting me owe her rent at an undetermined date. I had signed up for unemployment the end of my first unemployed week and wasn't seeing anything. So I thought a temp agency was my last choice before being shipped off to Texas, making it more difficult to get back to STL to be in Katie's wedding. Just a few days after my meeting at the agency they found a gig for me! And they wanted me to start in just a few days. I was cool with that. When I initially accepted it they said six weeks. That was perfect. I could stay for Katie's wedding and then earn a couple more weeks of money before driving to Tejas. Well, when I started working and the lady I was going to be temping for was training me, she mentioned something about eight weeks. Then I heard it again, the next week, when she was gone. So I thought, ok, maybe they're expecting eight weeks. That's not that much longer. I could do that. What else do I have going on besides moving to Texas? Then eight weeks came...and went. Chawntina, the girl I'm subbing for, came and showed off her new baby and I overheard her tell my boss she'd be coming back May 9. That would make my stay officially 10 weeks long. Even though I signed up for six. They're lucky I have nothing else going on with my life otherwise they'd have to train someone without the main girl, because she would still be on maternity leave. They're also lucky that I'm enjoying getting a paycheck every week. So lucky.
The job's really not bad but I'm just anxious to get to Texas, to get it over with so I can stop imagining what it's going to be like to live with my mom and brothers, who I haven't lived with since I was 18. And it was rough then. Now I'm two years out of college, one of my brothers is legal and they're both adults. I can't even fathom what this will be like. I will be living in what used to be my old office [we moved into this house near my birthday, almost half way through my senior year of high school, when my parents officially split for good, and it only has 3 bedrooms. Since I was going off to college in less than a year, my brothers were given their own rooms and my mom and I shared the HUGE master bedroom with a HUGE walk-in closet shaped like an "L," with our own bathroom. I got the tiny room downstairs to use as my "office," or just a personal space for all my stuff.] on a futon with a quarter of my belongings with me, with the rest of them in storage in Nebraska.
My brothers are boys [surprise!], so that already has me wary. They're loud. They fight. They're obnoxious. I'm pretty sure my headaches will all come back. Just thinking about it gives me a nervous headache. But I'm trying to be positive and excited. I don't know how long this will last. My current plan [and my plans NEVER work out] is to spend the summer writing my screenplay while working part time, paying people back and then when the screenplay is done, I will look for a real job. I have NO CLUE what kind of real job or where, but I guess it's time to fit myself into the American lifestyle, right? That's what everyone tells me, anyway. "Get a steady job that actually has benefits and PAYS you." "Live somewhere." "Contribute to society." "Get a dog." "You can't live in a van down by the river."
Guess what. I'm the only person I know who regularly volunteers [probably not]. I think that counts as contributing to society. But I'm also bumming off people and living on air mattresses and futons. So maybe those two cancel each other out.
I just don't know what to do with myself. And moving in with my mom and my brothers isn't making me feel any less anxious about the "rest of my life." Maybe this will inspire me to just WRITE and maybe [doubt it] I could actually PUBLISH some stuff. My uncle is going to help me get the screenplay somewhere [I'm not getting my hopes up too high but it's something I have to TRY] and I have a great idea for a memoir [plus, my life in the past couple of years just lends itself to a hilarious book idea]. Meanwhile I will spend my weekends feeding baby squirrels and cleaning up goose poo - if they have geese in Texas. I can't remember.
Oh, and my whole point is that I'm now in my 10th week of a six-week gig and the girl I'm temping for has yet to send my boss her official return notice. So right now I'm in St. Louis for an undetermined amount of time. Even though I have a whole Mother's Day adventure planned for May 15 in Texas. As much as I don't want to leave my best friends who live in this city, I do want this waiting game to be over. I want to BE somewhere, here or there. But I would also like a million dollars and a laptop. [Hint, hint.]
The job's really not bad but I'm just anxious to get to Texas, to get it over with so I can stop imagining what it's going to be like to live with my mom and brothers, who I haven't lived with since I was 18. And it was rough then. Now I'm two years out of college, one of my brothers is legal and they're both adults. I can't even fathom what this will be like. I will be living in what used to be my old office [we moved into this house near my birthday, almost half way through my senior year of high school, when my parents officially split for good, and it only has 3 bedrooms. Since I was going off to college in less than a year, my brothers were given their own rooms and my mom and I shared the HUGE master bedroom with a HUGE walk-in closet shaped like an "L," with our own bathroom. I got the tiny room downstairs to use as my "office," or just a personal space for all my stuff.] on a futon with a quarter of my belongings with me, with the rest of them in storage in Nebraska.
My brothers are boys [surprise!], so that already has me wary. They're loud. They fight. They're obnoxious. I'm pretty sure my headaches will all come back. Just thinking about it gives me a nervous headache. But I'm trying to be positive and excited. I don't know how long this will last. My current plan [and my plans NEVER work out] is to spend the summer writing my screenplay while working part time, paying people back and then when the screenplay is done, I will look for a real job. I have NO CLUE what kind of real job or where, but I guess it's time to fit myself into the American lifestyle, right? That's what everyone tells me, anyway. "Get a steady job that actually has benefits and PAYS you." "Live somewhere." "Contribute to society." "Get a dog." "You can't live in a van down by the river."
Guess what. I'm the only person I know who regularly volunteers [probably not]. I think that counts as contributing to society. But I'm also bumming off people and living on air mattresses and futons. So maybe those two cancel each other out.
I just don't know what to do with myself. And moving in with my mom and my brothers isn't making me feel any less anxious about the "rest of my life." Maybe this will inspire me to just WRITE and maybe [doubt it] I could actually PUBLISH some stuff. My uncle is going to help me get the screenplay somewhere [I'm not getting my hopes up too high but it's something I have to TRY] and I have a great idea for a memoir [plus, my life in the past couple of years just lends itself to a hilarious book idea]. Meanwhile I will spend my weekends feeding baby squirrels and cleaning up goose poo - if they have geese in Texas. I can't remember.
Oh, and my whole point is that I'm now in my 10th week of a six-week gig and the girl I'm temping for has yet to send my boss her official return notice. So right now I'm in St. Louis for an undetermined amount of time. Even though I have a whole Mother's Day adventure planned for May 15 in Texas. As much as I don't want to leave my best friends who live in this city, I do want this waiting game to be over. I want to BE somewhere, here or there. But I would also like a million dollars and a laptop. [Hint, hint.]
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