part two of infamous step 3 is tomorrow. i am petrified on some level, i am sure. i feel unprepared. more so than last time, but strangely unexcited. maybe its anti-climactic, bc it should already be done. maybe bc my system has been so unbalanced lately not in touch with any real emotions -- which leads me to believe i may also not be in touch with my brain at all. eeek.
either way, its tomorrow. this is one more example in my life, where it is purely God's grace if i do pass. i owe it all to Him and His mercy. i know he gave me a brain, He put me where i am, but i also don't feel i deserve to pass this thing. i feel fat and lazy and dumb. but maybe just maybe He will let me get by one more gate so one day i can be of some use. i guess thats my prayer. please God. i don't deserve it, but please save the money, the time, the shame. i do truly plan on getting on track and serving You. not bc of this test. thank you.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
dream
have more studying to do. just one more day till the end of the test. feel so unmotivated. Christian music playing, all the lights in my bedroom on. thought just a little nap might help. then get up and work some more. not even midnight for goodness sake. fuzzy. was going somewhere...minds were changed. stayed in. it was like a garage, with levels. i was on one side, near the top. i don't remember music, but remember moving. all these men around. thought they were singing or party or something but not clear. then i realized they liked whatever i was doing. bobbing or something. i kept on. then i realized they all had erections, one by one, two by two. kept doing whatever it was, rhythmically. then i felt them all cum. not just on me, but all around me. i knew i had led them to that point, but still distinctly felt i was not the leader. police? bust in. like a raid...was not sure why we were in trouble, but i was out. as they surged in, i slipped out a side curtain, threading right past, but not small or subtle enough to go unnoticed. daylight outside. heard shouts -- rajen? someone? was telling them i was definitely a part of it and i needed help and should not get away. i ran, but no time, no where to hide. i was just in the back yard, hid behind a gate. found within seconds. they picked me, women soldiers. took me to a stone room with many beds. like a dorm. shortly one short haired soldier (they all were) came over and told me they were going to paralyze my face. i had no choice. it didn't really hurt. felt weird. stayed conscious. could see everything, hear. just couldn't talk or move much. i knew more was to to come. got the distinct feeling they were going to be as liberal with my body as they wanted. it was scary, but helpless, resigned. had the feeling i was to be moved somewhere for punishment. in the meantime, in the bed next to me, they were discussing anesthetizing...or another word, an "s" word of the same meaning. she opened a kit. it was disguised as something benign, but underneath were medical supplies. no idea what they were going to do. but the girl didn't fight. clearly there was no point. i glanced around the room, knowing, thinking, i would have time to know it well. looked passively for an escape. nothing obvious. door had no handle, strange lock i didn't recognize with a wire. decorations on the wall. like crafts of the girls. i wondered if at some point i would be able to place every object precisely out of sheer exposure. laying there, realized i wasn't really there. not just there. i was in my own bed. tried a couple of times to wake up. no luck. eyes opened, saw my roommate's bed. tried again. same thing. forced it to shift to my room. now i am awake, writing this. wondering if i should try sleep again. not very pleasant. not a nightmare exactly. but kinda dark for having all these lights on.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
mornings
sleeping better now. spend the night on the couch, then transition to my bed around five or six in the morning, if i can.
imagine waking up to oldies blasting full volume. i mean, hear it outside blazing volume. i peek outside my door. a grizzled old man bobbing to the music, grinning ear to ear, talking nonstop to himself or the music, lost in a world of memories, hair in all directions. doesn't sound as bizarre as it looks. all the food from last night's dinner is on the counter, but that doesn't mean bacon isn't frying on the stove, with a red plastic cup just emptied of its latest drink playing sous chef. funny. and now that i am up...he has turned the music to an inaudible (for him) level and is working quiet as a mouse in the kitchen.
wait, he just came to my door. with a sly grin, he closes it. "reckon i've had enough. reckon i'd like to talk to myself." he is so ready to be home with his dogs. this is his celebration.
imagine waking up to oldies blasting full volume. i mean, hear it outside blazing volume. i peek outside my door. a grizzled old man bobbing to the music, grinning ear to ear, talking nonstop to himself or the music, lost in a world of memories, hair in all directions. doesn't sound as bizarre as it looks. all the food from last night's dinner is on the counter, but that doesn't mean bacon isn't frying on the stove, with a red plastic cup just emptied of its latest drink playing sous chef. funny. and now that i am up...he has turned the music to an inaudible (for him) level and is working quiet as a mouse in the kitchen.
wait, he just came to my door. with a sly grin, he closes it. "reckon i've had enough. reckon i'd like to talk to myself." he is so ready to be home with his dogs. this is his celebration.
mornings
sleeping better finally. spend the night on the couch, then transition to my bed around five or six in the morning, if i can sleep in.
imagine waking up to oldies blasting full volume. i mean, hear it outside blazing volume. i peek outside my door. a grizzled old man bobbing to the music, grinning ear to ear, talking nonstop to himself or the music, lost in a world of memories, hair in all directions. doesn't sound as bizarre as it looks. all the food from last night's dinner is on the counter, but that doesn't mean bacon isn't frying on the stove, with a red plastic cup just emptied of its latest drink playing sous chef. funny. and now that i am up...he has turned the music to an inaudible (for him) level and is working quiet as a mouse in the kitchen.
wait, he just came to my door. with a sly grin, he closes it. "reckon i've had enough. reckon i'd like to talk to myself." he is so ready to be home with his dogs. this is his celebration.
imagine waking up to oldies blasting full volume. i mean, hear it outside blazing volume. i peek outside my door. a grizzled old man bobbing to the music, grinning ear to ear, talking nonstop to himself or the music, lost in a world of memories, hair in all directions. doesn't sound as bizarre as it looks. all the food from last night's dinner is on the counter, but that doesn't mean bacon isn't frying on the stove, with a red plastic cup just emptied of its latest drink playing sous chef. funny. and now that i am up...he has turned the music to an inaudible (for him) level and is working quiet as a mouse in the kitchen.
wait, he just came to my door. with a sly grin, he closes it. "reckon i've had enough. reckon i'd like to talk to myself." he is so ready to be home with his dogs. this is his celebration.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
i am a chubby girl. its so hard to accept. i haven't seen a picture of myself that i like in ages. and i used to Love pictures! its ok to get less attention -- thats age, right? but to know the chub is a true feature, not a product of a 20 year olds self critical delusion.
the problem is....
well, i don't know what the problem is. i still like my shape, just wish it was smaller everywhere. i would LOVE to be the weight i was just two years ago. blah.
gotta do something soon.
the problem is....
well, i don't know what the problem is. i still like my shape, just wish it was smaller everywhere. i would LOVE to be the weight i was just two years ago. blah.
gotta do something soon.
hypnagogia
living amongst holograms. i feel my body, my scratchy throat. but at the same time wispy people standing around, acting out life. People saying random things -- you find in dreams. I try to remember them -- so tomorrow I can relay them -- they slip away. i will be thinking actively of something, ekgs or kittens, or something, anything, and something entirely unrelated -- a man moving a boat will simultaneously flash across my screen.
pressure that makes me not move, heaviness. i know i am in bed, i feel the breeze -- its perfect, hear my puppy snoring, then breathing fast -- is he having a nightmare? -- know the phone is inches away, and i Should write something down....but i can't do it. i am too heavy.
i hear pops talking, raving, outside my door...or is it outside? i can't tell which world this is. its full of dreams, all kinds, but i am not sleeping.
dr. levine takes my coffee, empties it in cheryl's office by flinging it through the door, and says "the dark is gone." prepares to pour something in. but i feel the heaviness of my blanket, the cloud that makes me sweat. when i think of moving my thoughts turn to rousing, my brain slips seamlessly into another scene.
i should be asleep. its 3:00. no, 3:30 a.m. been here two hours, should get up, but he promise of real sleep is so close i don't want to give up, get up. like an orgasm you never quite reach. doesn't feel as good though.
wish i could take something, but on call. no, sam is, see him entering the hospital? no! -- i am. tricked you again. can't be groggy. how can i not be after not sleeping.
strange world. will sleep let me in? gonna try again.
maybe the nightmares, endless...have convinced my brain, my body, this in-between is better. i am not waking drenched. how can i wake? people don't sneeze when they are asleep.
pressure that makes me not move, heaviness. i know i am in bed, i feel the breeze -- its perfect, hear my puppy snoring, then breathing fast -- is he having a nightmare? -- know the phone is inches away, and i Should write something down....but i can't do it. i am too heavy.
i hear pops talking, raving, outside my door...or is it outside? i can't tell which world this is. its full of dreams, all kinds, but i am not sleeping.
dr. levine takes my coffee, empties it in cheryl's office by flinging it through the door, and says "the dark is gone." prepares to pour something in. but i feel the heaviness of my blanket, the cloud that makes me sweat. when i think of moving my thoughts turn to rousing, my brain slips seamlessly into another scene.
i should be asleep. its 3:00. no, 3:30 a.m. been here two hours, should get up, but he promise of real sleep is so close i don't want to give up, get up. like an orgasm you never quite reach. doesn't feel as good though.
wish i could take something, but on call. no, sam is, see him entering the hospital? no! -- i am. tricked you again. can't be groggy. how can i not be after not sleeping.
strange world. will sleep let me in? gonna try again.
maybe the nightmares, endless...have convinced my brain, my body, this in-between is better. i am not waking drenched. how can i wake? people don't sneeze when they are asleep.
groceries
i am wondering through the kitchen. its 3:48 a.m. wait-- 3:38. why do i set the clocks ten minutes fast when i know?
my flirtation with hypnagogia is now a full fledged relationship.
the kitchen is littered with food, both open and packaged. leroy went shopping. macaroni and cheese (which i don't eat,) oreos, pancake syrup, chocolate syrup, chips in a bag, chips in a can, canned ham. he did make a salad for supper though. typical of his contradiction.
at once he is the most unselfish man i know, and the most selfish -- he cared for his aging, feeble dad until the end -- a 24/7 job that few people will do. in fact, i don't know of any who have, all alone. and i see a lot of sick, dying patients.
but he lives in his own world. racked with guilt and regret, finding solace in a drink. well, many drinks. and its not solace -- its familiarity. he relives every moment of his life, the good often, more often the bad i think. he is haunted by the war, haunted by my mother, haunted by himself. but he can laugh so freely, rejoices so sincerely over old football victories and frat boy pranks. he doesn't need you to participate. just listen. or pretend to listen, if its a story you have heard a million times. someone should write them down. i should. but how can i capture him, his tone, that crazy look in his eye?
he likes to take it slow. well, now he has to. his poor heart. he won't complain, but i see he is short of breath coming up the stairs. dizzy. he will only drink milk tonight.
my flirtation with hypnagogia is now a full fledged relationship.
the kitchen is littered with food, both open and packaged. leroy went shopping. macaroni and cheese (which i don't eat,) oreos, pancake syrup, chocolate syrup, chips in a bag, chips in a can, canned ham. he did make a salad for supper though. typical of his contradiction.
at once he is the most unselfish man i know, and the most selfish -- he cared for his aging, feeble dad until the end -- a 24/7 job that few people will do. in fact, i don't know of any who have, all alone. and i see a lot of sick, dying patients.
but he lives in his own world. racked with guilt and regret, finding solace in a drink. well, many drinks. and its not solace -- its familiarity. he relives every moment of his life, the good often, more often the bad i think. he is haunted by the war, haunted by my mother, haunted by himself. but he can laugh so freely, rejoices so sincerely over old football victories and frat boy pranks. he doesn't need you to participate. just listen. or pretend to listen, if its a story you have heard a million times. someone should write them down. i should. but how can i capture him, his tone, that crazy look in his eye?
he likes to take it slow. well, now he has to. his poor heart. he won't complain, but i see he is short of breath coming up the stairs. dizzy. he will only drink milk tonight.
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