I Had a Turn Down Dream

Monday night my dreams betrayed me.

For those of you who do not know, I have an internet crush on Mr. Day[9].  Monday night I had a dream about him.

In the dream I had some dream friends that did not resemble anyone I actually know who were getting married.  Somehow I was a part of this wedding and we were having a friend/getting to know you night out with all the wedding party people.  At the dinner Mr. Day[9] sat across the table from me.  We instantly hit it off.  We made jokes and laughed.  I think at one point we made some sort of joke/reference to an Alanis Morissette song.

The group was leaving the restaurant and were heading to some sort of bar or something.   It was cold and dark outside and I had on a pair of fingerless gloves made from some scrap sock yarn I actually have.  As we were walking and laughing Day[9] coyly slid his hand into mine.

I stopped walking, turned to him and said, "Sean (his real name) I should tell you that I'm engaged.  I like you but I can't you know, do this."  He smiled, smiled said he understood and let go of my hand.  At that point, dream me was like 'damn why did I wear gloves?!'  Instead, he offered to be my escort and keep other guys from hitting on me or doing something uncouth.  For the rest of the night we hung out as friends and it was great.

I woke up and was so disappointed in dream me.  Seriously, it was a dream, not real, why oh why did you say that?!  I drifted back to sleep for a few minutes after this dream and Day[9] was there again.  This time I was single in the dream and we were about to set up information for a date when Fred decided it was time to wake up and mewed in my face.  Damn cats.

I heart you too Day[9].

The Story of My Birth Is Pretty Epic

I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say the story of my birth is pretty epic.  Okay, maybe not epic, but I think it's a pretty good story.  In fact, in high school I had to write a autobiographical story and chose to tell the following tale.  My teacher said she would have thought it was fake if she didn't know my cousin and heard great Novak tales from her.

It all started one July evening around 6:00 or 7:00 p.m.  My mom was at home with my brother (age 6) watching reruns of the Brady Bunch.  Her water broke and it was action time.  Grandman Dorthy picked up my brother and my mother headed to Novak Liquor to get my dad and they could go to the hospital.

My mom rushed into the store in a panic.  She was ready to get to the hospital and get this baby out.  My dad was calm and collected.  He told her not to worry and that they had plenty of time.  Dad had my mom sit behind the counter while he kept the store open and helped customers (it's a one man opperation).  So there they sat, timing contractions and talking to customers until 9:00 p.m. when my mom had had enough.  She wanted to go the hospital and she wanted to go right then!

For the first time in Novak Liquor history, the store closed early.  In my lifetime I can only think of two occasions where the store closed, for the funerals of my grandparents who had opened the store. 

Instead of heading to the hospital, my dad stopped at his parents' house that was right across the street from the store.  He did this every day he got off work to visit with them.  They chatted casually until my mom was fuming with anger.  Grandma Rose suggested that he might want to get her to the hospital.

They finally made it to the hospital around 10:30-11 p.m.  The night nurses got her settled in and my calm, collected dad started to panic.  He kept trying to leave the room.  My dad is squimish when it comes to pain.  My mom refused to let him leave and to keep him calm would laugh whenever it hurt rather than scream or cry out.  I mean, if you've ever seen any sort of real birth, you're familiar with the terrible sounds that emit from a woman.  Imagine instead loud bursts of laughter.  And David Letterman because that's what they were watching. 

Around 12:30 a.m. the nurses were frantically calling my mother's doctor to come in and get this birth underway.  He told them not to worry, I probably wouldn't come out until 6 or 7 a.m.  This doctor did not understand how badly I wanted out. 

At 1:10 a.m. on July 24, 1987 I came into the world.  The nurses were in a panic.  The only delivery doctor wasn't available because there was another couple who had gone into labor an hour or so before me.  They had to get me out themselves.  My dad was so excited he couldn't remember the weight and length so a nurse wrote it down for him on a post-it.   He still carries it in his wallet to this day. 

This story may not seem very epic right now, but if you ever hear me or my parents tell it in person you'll understand why I think it's so great.  I mean, I was almost born in the liquor store.  If my dad had waited until closing (11:30 p.m.) it would have been too late. 

In 9th grade we had to write a short autobiographical sotry of your life and I chose this one.  My teacher said that if she hadn't known my cousins she would have thought it was a work of fiction. 

Moving Complete (Almost)

All of our furniture has been moved!  The only thing left in our apartment is random junk on the counter and some dishes in the cabinet.  Oh, and stuff in the fridge.  Other than that we're set.

I've unpacked all of the bedroom and 'master' bath.  Henry unpacked the kitchen.  We now have a larger pile of empty boxes than stuff to unpack.  We have a lot of crap.

Henry is obsessed with this chair his mom bought at an estate sale.  It's apparently a Transformer.

Also, I've made it to the cloud section of the back of the sweater.  Finally.

End of line

P.S. -Don't worry, I'm actually working on interesting posts that are not about moving.

Moving

Henry and I are in the process of moving all our crap from this tiny apartment to a nice sized house.  Needless to say, the apartment is a mess, the house is only clean because everything is still in a box, and I don't know where I packed everything.

Next weekend we hope to be moved into the house (we're getting the internet switched over to there Friday morning).  We've already moved over a bunch of stuff, but still have a lot more to do.  All the big furniture needs to go and we haven't packed up anything in the kitchen.  I'll probably be pretty busy this week.

My knitting is at a stand still while moving.  I've almost reached the arm hole decreases for the Mario sweater.  The sooner I get done with this project the happier I'll be.  I've been working a little bit on some old projects and have also been working on some blog post drafts.  Once we move, expect to see some more posts.

That's all for now.  Here's a picture of my cat strung out on catnip at Christmas 2006.

I Hate Teenagers

I hate teenagers.  I hated teenagers when I was a teenager.  They're crazy, hormonal, and have yet to learn the consequences of their actions.  But most importantly, they start and participate in stupid trends!  This news story about teenage werewolves really irritates me.

First of all, they're not that original.  Furries, anyone?  They make a point to say that they're not goth or emo.  I'm pretty sure those groups wouldn't allow them to join.  "Sorry, your fake tail distracts from the dark pain of our souls."  They're not the only group of kids who don't feel like they fit in and they won't be the last.  Like the counselor said, they're just expressing themselves.

Speaking of the adults, I do like the fact that the school administration did stand up for them by saying they are not a threat to the learning environment and do not disrupt the lives of other students.  Rarely does a school allow 'strange' behavior such as this and also defend it to the public.  Really, the group's rebellion is ruined because the adults 'get it.'  They know why they're doing it and they don't care.  I'm sure they did crazier shit.  That's why I like the mom at the end of the clip.  She doesn't stop him, but also doesn't allow him to be a whiny wolf bitch in the house and it's not like they're drinking baby's blood or something.

Second, these kids are really fucking dumb.  The girl they interview who said that gangs were just posers looking for attention was asking for trouble.  Yeah, maybe some 'gangs' in your school are posers, but there are real gangs in big cities, you know, like the one you live in that are probably related to the poser ones in your school.  You are asking to get your ass kicked.  Although, since your group hangs out IN FRONT OF A MALL, you probably live in the suburbs and have never seen a real gang of any sort.

Third, THEY HANG OUT IN FRONT OF A MALL!  If that doesn't scream, loser group that does really want to fit in with the popular kids, but can't because they're 'different' so decide to hang out where the cool kids might to feel a little more cool, I don't know what does.  Sorry to burst your bubble, but the cool kids are probably just stopping by the mall to get a new outfit because they have a kick ass party to go to and drink cheap beer and wine coolers.  They don't hang out at the mall in the afternoon.  Only poser kids do that.

I would tell you to go hang out in someone's basement, but how will you be able to stick it to the man (mall security)?  You need to be able to be a smart-ass to someone of authority to feel young and non-conformist.  Also, hanging out in front of the mall must be convenient when you find out that everyone else has on four chains when you only have three.  You're right by the Hot Topic to pick up a new one.

Fourth, I hate their contacts.  I remember those being new and cool when my brother was a teenager in the late 90s.  They aren't new anymore and you look ridiculous wearing them outside the month of October.  I think the thing I hated the most about it was the damn kids with the contacts and then wearing fucking glasses.  Fucking posers to the max.  They do make those cat eye contacts that also function like actual contacts.  Of course I bet that those contacts and black framed glasses are all cosmetic.

When I was a kid I really wanted braces and glasses because I thought they would make me look cool (I guess I thought being a dork was the ultimate cool).  I did end up with both (but had switched to contacts before the braces) and did not look any more cool.  I switched back to my glasses because my contacts were killing my fucking eyes!  I have a small muddy ring around my irises from wearing bad contacts prescribed by my doctor that were fucking killing those cells. So no, your contacts and glasses do not make you look more unique or express your true identity, they make you look like a stupid poser who will probably go blind from this fashion choice.

What happened to just having goth kids?  I liked them.  We got along well.  Or even goat ropers.  At least they didn't wear tails around.

Sleeping Is Hard

I have a hard time getting to sleep.  Every night.  This might be because I probably have RLS (damn genetics).  Either way I decided to look up insomnia on Wikipedia.

According to the Wikipedia page there are three types of insomnia, transient, acute, and chronic.  I do not have any of those.  I have this issue every night.  I am never tired at night.  If I ever am tired, it is not enough to cause me to sleep.  I do have one of the four patterns of insomnia!  Onset insomnia!  Usually the cause of an anxiety disorder!  Let's take a look at the anxiety disorder page.  Yes, I probably have anxiety due to stress.

I do have social anxiety disorder (SAD).  You're probably thinking, 'You can't have SAD.  You seem pretty normal and social.'  Wrong!  I panic around people.  I hate parties or gatherings even if I know everyone.  I tend to panic and feel ill.  I also fear using the telephone.  The thought of calling someone, especially someone I don't know and trying to ask a question or hold a conversation freaking me out.  I will refuse to call places or people unless absolutely necessary.  I will spend five to ten minutes hyping myself up to make the call.  I will rehearse what I want to say, probably chicken out for a second, hyperventilate, compose myself, make the call all while shaking, hang up, and spend the next five minutes trying to lower my heart rate.  I've some what forced myself to get over this fear by working at places where I have to answer the phone.  At first it was really hard, but when I'm at work I'm the person with the power and so answering the phone is easier.  I still have issues with calling people. I just can't do it.

My fear of phones might also be because my brother convinced me that they were actually bombs that would blow up if you left the phone off the hook and it started to beep.  He used to leave the phone off the hook so that when it would start beeping I would come running, screaming, possibly tearing up, and slam the phone back on the hook.  Everyone thought it was hilarious, except me.  This might also be why I hate any repetitive beeping or ticking.  

I will also rehearse having conversations with people in my head before I see them.  I'm sure I could go on about how crippling my social anxiety disorder is, but that is not the topic of this post.  Anyway, maybe SAD is the reason why I can't sleep.

Back to insomnia, maybe I don't produce enough melatonin.  That might be why I cannot fall asleep ever.  My former roommate Jordan used to have melatonin vitamins that she would take sometimes to regulate her sleep cycle.  Man, she would take one and be out like a light in about 30 minutes.  Nothing could wake her up either until the morning.  I've tried to find these vitamins to try to get my sleep cycle back to something reasonable, but I cannot find them anywhere.  Apparently, they're pretty illegal in other countries, but not in the US.  My local Target does not sell it.  Henry thought I was making it up (the vitamin, not the actual existence of melatonin).  I did end up getting some Target brand generic sleep aid pills.  They work a little, but usually aren't strong enough.

Then I thought, maybe I have fatal familial insomnia.  But then I realized no one in my family has ever had it.  But damn, it sounds fascinating.  You start with some insomnia leading to panic attacks, paranoia, and phobias.  Then you start to hallucinate and have more pronounced panic attacks.  Eventually you cannot sleep again and lose a whole bunch of weight.  It ends with dementia and then you die.  Wouldn't that just suck?

I probably don't have any type of insomnia.  I probably just suck at falling asleep.  

Sound Noise

The following are the most commonly heard phrases in our apartment.  Enjoy.

• Dammit Henry.
• I'm a bear.
• I'm a cat.
• Meow
• Woof
• Rwar
• I has a hat.
• Do you like my hat?
• You do it.
• You're closer.  
• Is this clean?
• Do you smell that?
• I am Mega Man.  Here's my mega plan.
• Hey Roof Cat.
• The fishies agree with me.
• Did you feed the fishies?
• Eh...
• Are you a bear?
• Why is this in the middle of the floor?
• I'm hungry.
• It's hot.
• I'm cold.
• Please?
• Hello (not in greeting, but repeated back and forth over and over)
• I tweeted it. or I will post that on twitter.
• I blame you, Henry.
• I shared things with you.

That's all I can think of right now.  I'm sure we say stranger things, but we're probably too embarrassed to admit them.