You can’t go home again. But you can always feel like an awkward, moody teenager.

High school wasn’t bad for me.  It wasn’t great, either.  I had my share of unreasonable teenage angst and questionable fashion decisions.   

I went to a large high school.  While I wasn’t one of the cool kids, it never bothered me because I had friends who were just as uncool as I was.  I was an odd combination of nerd and wannabe arty rebel—think National Honors Society, editor of the literary magazine, a bit of backstage theater work, ska-and-punk music lover, and a horse wrangler for a Girl Scout camp on occasional weekends.  Plus, I was weird and awkward.  I once wore a pair of pants with battery powered Christmas lights decorating the outside seams, and I tended to read novels behind my text books. 

I keep in touch with a couple people from my high school, as we went to college together and remained friends.   When I got the invitation to my ten year high school reunion, I had two simultaneous thoughts. 

1) Ten years?  That can’t be right. I’m fairly certain I’m still like 26.  I know I’ve been 26 for a few years now, but it’s a good age. 

2) Sparkles and I can go together, and we can get drunk and make snarky comments.  And that is what reunions are truly about.

After I bought the ticket to the reunion, I found out that the ever illustrious Sparkles had to work—and she has the type of job that you can never, ever, call in sick unless you are already dead from the plague.  My other friend lives across the country and wasn’t about to spend $500 on a plane ticket just for a reunion.  So I was stuck flying solo. I considered bringing my husband but tickets were $60.  And while I thought that I may be able to have $60 worth of fun, it was unlikely that my introvert husband would have an additional $60 worth of fun with people he had never met.

I was strangely nervous about the whole thing.  Batman pointed out that it was highly unlikely I would be made fun of, as we were all adults now.  I reminded him that with copious amounts of alcohol, anything was possible.  

Low points of the evening:  Two people called me by the wrong name.  Including our guidance counselor.

High points of the evening:  It was actually cool to see everyone all grown up.  Most people seemed about the same (which is a scary thought in itself) except, you know, older.  There was no snobbery going on, and while everyone kind of gravitated towards people they knew, I spoke to almost everyone there.  There was a constant litany of the same three questions:  What do you do?  Where do you live/have you ever left the city?  Do you have a family?

I'm glad I went.  When I got home, Batman asked me how it went.  I told him it was fun--and assured him that none of my high school crushes were remotely attractive anymore. 

Parental Misunderstandings.

My friend Shortstuff recently confessed to me that way back when Mo-mo was first born, she misunderstood something that I said.  And she was way too polite and grossed out to ask me to clarify.

We were talking on the phone, and Batman called to me from the other room.  Hold on, I said, Batman is calling me.  I listened to what he had to say.  I have to go, I told her. Batman needs my help.  There's a poop emergency.  

Being that Mo-mo was fairly small, what I thought I conveyed was that Mo-mo had managed (as young babies do) to poop through the side of her diaper and Batman needed a hand getting her gross onesie off and giving her a quick bath. 

What Shortstuff thought I meant was that Batman was having a poop emergency.  And she was rather alarmed and confused, having no idea 1) how a grown man could have a poop emergency and 2) what sort of help I could lend my husband during said poop emergency. 

I am actually impressed that she was able to look him in the eye after that.

Craftoholic.

I'm fairly crafty.  I made my daughter's awesome Halloween costume.

A lot of people told me how cute he looked.  I decided that it wasn't the right time to lecture about gender stereotypes.  Also, she did look adorable.

I've made numerous taggie toys, home decorations, and I rock at cross-stitching.  But for every project I complete, there is at least three that I get very excited about, buy the materials, then don't finish.

I thought this blog entry would serve as a combination of confession/reminder/guilting myself into completing these.  Here are my list of the crafts waiting for me to get off my butt and make.

1)  Fishing set. 

my materials

I got the idea from this blog, found on Pinterest.  (Can we pause for a moment and talk about how awesome Pinterest is?  Yes, it is amazing.  I'm in love.)
Time I have been meaning to make this:  about a week.



2) Apron from a scarf.

Pretty scarf, no?  I found it at the thrift store.  I've been wanting to make an apron (I make a huge mess when when I bake) and I thought it would be fun to use it for that.
Time I have been meaning to make this:  about three months


3) Felt Food.

As you can see, I made one little piece of felt food.  It turned out adorable--but I'm very slow at hand sewing.  I bought enough felt to make at least 15 more pieces of food for Mo-mo's play kitchen.
Time I have been meaning to make this:  about four months


4) A baby quilt.

This is one of those crafts that I started with the best of intentions.  My aunt makes beautiful quilts and often donates them to the hospital for babies in the ICU.  I thought it would be a wonderful project...and I only did about 1/2 of it.  Again, the hand sewing thing slowed me down.
Time I have been meaning to make this:  about a year

5) The Lorax Toybox.

It needs hinges.  And paint.  And more paint.  And even more paint.  I started this without realizing that I would have to prime it, paint the background several times, paint the trim several times (it's going to be bright purple), paint the scenes, paint the black lines in the little scenes, then polyurethane it.  I got about halfway done with painting it outside before it started raining, and I just never returned to it. I am embarrassed to admit that I use it to keep unfinished craft projects in. 
Time I have been meaning to make this:  about a year and a half

6) A knitted...something.

This is a....scarf, potholder, square.  Take your pick.  I learned how to knit then never actually made anything.  I'm kind of scared to finish it because I don't know how to cast off.  Or on again, if I want to make something else.
Time I have been meaning to make this:  about a year and a half

7) Purse made from a book.

Inspiration from this blog

 my materials

I have the materials.  I even gutted out a poor book specifically bought for that purpose (The Last Days of Pompeii).  (oh, and I saved the pages--I figure there has to be something I can do with them.  I have major guilt about ripping up a book.)  I just haven't made the darn thing yet. 

Time I have been meaning to make this:  about two years

8) Hair ribbons for Mo-mo.

When Mo-mo was about six months old, I bought some adorable ribbon with the intention of making cutesy bows for her.  I quickly realized that she would only keep barrettes in her hair for about 30 seconds. 

Time I have been meaning to make this:  over two years

8) The perfect Easter basket.

Apparently, finding an Easter basket for Mo-mo that I like (for a reasonable price) was too difficult.  So I bought one that I kind of like and was going to paint it and re-line it with new fabric.

Time I have been meaning to make this:  over two years 

9) Portraits of my animals.

 

I made the one of Odin and it hangs in our kitchen.  Still need to paint Athena and Fat Mar-mar.

Time I have been meaning to make this:  over two years

10) A corset.  Crap, this is embarassing.

 Pleather?  What was I thinking?

I cannot tell you for the life of me why I wanted to sew a corset.  I know it was for a costume of some kind--pirate wench, maybe?.  I've never sewn anything from a pattern before--and a corset with eyelets and boning and everything is tricky.  Plus I bought a ton of ridiculous faux leather and brocade, neither of which are particularly easy to work with.  I'm going to chalk this one up to being young and dumb and find something else to do with the material.

Time I have been meaning to make this:  over four years.  Well, I probably actually wanted to make it for a week.  Then I realized how difficult it was.

Tea, Baby

My two-year old daughter loves hot tea.

I found out this curious fact last winter, as I was sipping my morning cup of Earl Gray.  Momo climbed on my lap and demanded some.  I figured it would be one of those things where she has a sip, makes a face, and never bothers me again about it. 

She had her sip and her eyes lit up.  "More, more, MORE!"

I had created a monster.

Before the internets starts to judge me too harshly, let me tell you this--she only gets very weak decaffeinated tea, lukewarm with tons of milk, and only as an occasional treat.  I no longer drink my morning tea at home because I refuse to let her have it very frequently.

Last week, my family went out to breakfast to celebrate my father's 60th birthday.  There were coffee cups on the tables at the restaurant and so my daughter started asking for tea.

"Let me ask if they have decaf," was my answer.

She slumped down in her high chair and started pitifully moaning as if she were in physical pain.  "Deeeeeeeeecaff!  Deeeeeeeeecaf Mommy! DEEEEEEEEEEECAAAAAAAAAAAAAF!!!!"

Everyone in the restaurant turned towards me and my child who was requesting "decaf" at the top of her lungs.  They probably thought she was jonesing for her morning coffee fix.  I could tell they were smiting me in their minds for getting a toddler hooked on coffee. 

Life is never dull when you have a toddler.

You're never too young (or too old) to dress up a statue of a goose.

A funny thing happened on the way to the park today.  Batman, Mo-mo and I saw a statue of a goose...but it was naked.

"That's indecent.  If you're going to have a statue of a goose, you might as well put some clothes on it," remarked Batman.

It was like a light bulb went off in my head.  "OH MY GOD.  I NEED A STATUE OF A GOOSE, AND I NEED TO DRESS IT UP."

"I think you don't meet the minimum age requirements for owning a dress-up goose.  There's a rule somewhere that if you're going to buy costumes for a statue, you must be over fifty and also own a Pomeranian named Baby."

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" (Yes, sometimes I talk in all caps.)  "I wouldn't put it in Easter dresses or bumblebee outfits.  That's just weird.  I'm thinking about creating tiny little outfits for a resin goose as an homage to some of my favorite fictional characters."

Batman made me a deal:  If I draw 10 sketches of the goose statue in different suitably awesome costumes, I could get one.  And make it outfits.

I'm thinking Harry Potter, James T. Kirk, Elvis*, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Wolverine, Darth Vader, Princess Leia, Batman**, and Captain Jack Sparrow. 

While I do not yet have ten sketches of attired geese, I can offer you this one:

Why yes.  This is a goose dressed up as Harry Potter.

Next step:  Convincing Batman that I need not one, but four geese statues.  I could stage elaborate tableaux, including one with Harry Potter Goose, Ron Weasley Goose, Hermione Granger Goose, and the ever-popular Voldemort Goose.  Plus, there could be the four Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle-Geese.

Maybe I need a new hobby. 



*while not fictional, he is awesome enough to warrant dressing up a small goose statue in his honor.
** The superhero, not my husband.  Although the idea of dressing up a goose statue as my husband does have its merits--mostly that it would probably embarrass him.

Kashi Go Lean Crunch Cereal: The New Musical Fruit

If you do not think that passing gas is funny, then this is not the blog post for you.  You have my permission to go here instead and do responsible, grown-up things like checking stock prices.

.....

Okay, if you're still reading, I'm going to presume you're like me and twelve year old boys:  We all think that farting is funny.

I've been trying to eat healthier.  I've gained five pounds since starting my new job because all I do is sit at a desk, work, and snack.  "I don't understand it," I complained as I scarfed down bags of M&M's and destroyed some double-stuff Oreos.  "Why am I gaining so much weight?"


I bought a big box of Kashi Go Lean Crunch cereal in an attempt to not become a giant quivering pile of Jello, because you all know how I feel about exercising.

"It's healthy!"  I thought.  "It even has the word lean in the name!   This plan can't go wrong."

(insert evil laugh here)

Little did I know that Kashi Go Lean Crunch would better be named Big Tasty Bowl of Toots.  The first day I ate a huge bowl for breakfast.  Two hours later, almost to the dot, I had gas.  Horrible gas.  Like, quivering-to-hold-it-in-because-I'm-at-work-and-turns-into-one-minute-farts-when-I-can-let-it-out gas.  Luckily on the stinkiness factor, it was oddly odorless.    

Stupid me, I didn't make the connection the first day.  So I ate a huge bowl the next day.  The same thing happened.  I'm fairly certain my officemates hate me now, and I don't even have a dog handy to blame it on.

By the third day I started to figure out something was wrong.  My husband was worried about me and feared I was getting an ulcer because I would complain of a stomachache every afternoon (which sounds better than saying my colon hurts).

Mmmm!  Now with more flatuence!

I stopped eating the cereal, and lo and behold, my flatulence problem disappeared.  I've googled it and apparently it's quite a common problem.  There are web pages and blog entries like this one devoted to telling the story of Kashi:  The New Musical Fruit.  There are people who thought they had a serious medical condition until they found out that no, it's just their cereal.  There's one woman who describes how in attempt to be healthy, she ate a huge bowl and then went to her first yoga class.  Hilarity ensued.

The worst part about it is that it's quite tasty.  I would have happily used it as a snacking food along with eating it for breakfast.   I've even tried eating half a bowl, hoping that if I started off with small amounts, my body would get used to it.  My body most vehemently did not get used to it. 
 
When I told my family about this, they all 1) wanted to try it and 2) wanted me to give some to my brother.

Wait, what?  I guess it's like the reaction when you try something so horrible that you just have to share it--the "here, try this, it's gross" factor.

As for the second part, the males of my family are pretty naturally gaseous.  I grew up thinking that guys farted all the time.  Giving Kashi to my brother, Meat, would be like adding gasoline to a fire.  A very stinky fire.

Some people blame the chicory root, others the soy powder, and still others the vast amounts of fiber.  Whatever it is, I know that I shall no longer be eating Kashi Go Lean cereal.  I will close with this aptly appropriate link to an SNL commercial for a cereal called "Colon Blow".   

I guess it's back to double-stuffed Oreos for me.

List of Five Things Going on in My Life

1)  Batman is taking the Missouri Bar Exam in nine days.  This means that I don't really have a husband for a week and a half.  I have a grouchy, Red-bull drinking, permanently-attached-to-a-study-guide person who sometimes is in bed when I wake up.

He's been studying at Borders to cut down on the distractions.  Apparently interrupting him to show him a video of kittens being cute, I mean really cute, like baby-panda-bear-sneezing level of cute, is an unnecessary distraction.  He and I must have completely different definitions of "necessary".


2)  I'm creating a Lorax-themed toybox.  I bought an old wooden toybox from a garage sale about ten years ago and I found in the garage recently.

I've primed it, drawn the pictures on, and now I just have to paint it.  It's awesome.  One of my hidden talents is that I can reproduce cartoons perfectly.  This made me very cool for about three days in sixth grade when everyone wanted me to draw them a picture of the Simba from the Lion King.

  

ONLY YOU CAN SAVE THE ENVIRONMENT.  No pressure or anything.  Except if you don't all the bears and fish and birds will die horrible drawn-out deaths.

3)  My family is going to Cozumel in two weeks.  I can't wait.  Batman will have just taken the bar exam and so it'll be lovely to be able to kick back and relax.

One thing we're going to do is go SCUBA diving.  Everyone in my family except my sister-in-law is SCUBA certified.  This sounds like fun, right?  Well, kind of.

My step-mom is certified but she only did it because she said she would if everyone else does.  Peer pressure is nothing compared to family pressure.  I get the feeling that she doesn't really like diving and now that she knows everything that could possibly go wrong, she doesn't want any of her children anywhere near the water.

She wants us to watch a refresher DVD before we go.  And practice in the pool before we leave.  And practice in the pool when we get there.  And never get farther away than five feet from the dive master when we go down.  And she'd prefer if we never actually SCUBA dived. 

She's taken to randomly quizzing us about potential SCUBA-related disasters.  We'll be eating dinner and suddenly she'll ask "Quick, what do you do if your regulator comes out of your mouth?  What if your secondary regulator isn't working?  WHAT IF YOUR DIVE BUDDY ISN'T PAYING ATTENTION?"

She's a bit of a worrier.


4)  I have two interviews coming up in the next two weeks.   Yes, I'm that awesome.  Now if only I could convince the interviewers of that fact...


5)  My friend Crystal just moved back to the St. Louis area.  We've known each other since high school and we were roommates for a year in college.  It's awesome to be back in the same city with her.

She just got engaged and I've nominated myself to be her unofficial wedding planner.  I like making lists, I have plenty of free time, I enjoy shopping, and I have tons of opinions---I'm perfect for the job.

Stylish

I'm kind of dumb when it comes to fashion trends. 

It took me several years to embrace the pointed-toe on heels.  I made fun of them (they look like witch shoes!) until they became so prevalent that I broke down and bought a few pairs, a couple of years after they went out of style.  Same with the skinny jean which I looked decent in until I had Mo-mo and failed to lose those cough cough 20 cough cough extra pounds.

My sense of style used to run towards flip-flops, jeans, and graphic tees.  Right before I started graduate school, I had a serious epiphany.  I realized that I needed to grow up and quit dressing like a teenager.  So now I wear solid colored shirts, jeans, and flip-flops!  I HAVE MATURED! (hahahahaha no.  Now I just look boring.)

I like to think that I have good fashion sense but everyone thinks that.  Even the poor people on What Not To Wear think they have fashion sense.  But it's a fringed jean-jacket with puffy paint!  It can never go out of style!  That's totally untrue unless the puffy paint is black because black never goes out of style.  It's classic.

If I have to be perfectly honest with myself, I don't have great fashion sense.  I love tacky.  I'm immediately drawn to things like brightly-colored cowboy boots (I have a pair in red and lavender), paisley in turquoise and orange combination, and shiny things.  I choose my clothing with the same forethought and planning as a raccoon with ADD.

 I'm prettyyyyyyyyyy!

One of the goofier reasons that I am looking forward to going back to work is for the clothes.  I can rock a suit.  I look awesome in suits.  They make me feel powerful, as if I'm going to make a lackey fetch me a latte and then I'll fire some people.  I've tried to recapture those feelings recently but it hasn't turned out to well.

(Note to self:  Batman does not like being referred to as a lackey.  Nor do the cats respond when I tell them that they are fired.)

Most recent fashion purchase I've been pondering is Spanx.  It's not a girdle, it's a slimmer!  (i.e. it's a spandex girdle).  I'm kind of afraid that I'd wear one and everyone would tell me how good I looked and then I'd have to wear one at all times or everyone would think that I just was gaining weight.

I was looking at them at Dillard's and apparently now one set of Spanx isn't enough, you need to layer them for maximum fat-suckage.  So you double or even triple layer your Spanx.  I fear that this trend will continue until everyone is wearing 15 or so layers of Spanx under their clothes and their belly flab has migrated up to their neck and it'll look like they have a grotesque turkey gizzard.  Don't laugh, it's going to happen.  After all, they even have Spanx for men now (aka a "mirdle"). 

So how about it, ladies?  Do you love your Spanx?  (ew, that sounds dirty.)  Feel free to weigh in with a comment.  Men, would you ever wear man-Spanx? 
  

Eureka! You remind me of the babe.

Inspiration has struck.

In the form of Jareth, the Goblin King.

That's right, ladies and gentlemen.  I have decided to create the awesomest of awesome costumes:  I am going to be David Bowie's character from the movie the Labyrinth.  As an androgynous popstar, I'd like to think that he'd approve of the cross-gender costume.   

That means Mo-mo will be baby Toby.

I may also have to learn every single word to the song "Dance, magic, dance".




Poor Batman.  There are four things in the world he despises: 
1) Nascar
2) Pugs
3) Muppets
4) David Bowie


Somehow he will survive.   But perhaps I should put off buying a pug for awhile. 

Searching for inspiration

So #50 on my 101 list is to attend a science fiction convention.  In a very lucky turn of events, St. Louis's yearly science fiction/fantasy convention called Archon is being hosted this year at Westport Plaza.  Only five minutes from my parents' house!
 
Even cooler, they have a masquerade contest (i.e. a costume contest).  Have I mentioned that I LOVE costumes?  As in, I dressed up as a pirate for multiple Pirates of the Caribbean movies.  And a vampire for a random Blade movie.  And I trick-or-treated every single year until I turned 18.  And...well, you get the point.  I really like costumes. 

I admit, I usually hide my inner nerdiness quite well.  But I want to participate in this masquerade and go all out.  The problem is, I can't decide what to be. 

Option 1:  Death from the Sandman comic book series

I love me some Neil Gaiman.  But the only problem is that Batman is going to dress up with me...and there is no way he can be the Sandman.  I was thinking he'd make a good Destiny.

 
But if we started dressing up like the Endless, I'd want to go all out.  I may have convinced my friend Shortstuff and her fiance to dress up as Delirium and the Sandman (he's tall and skinny).  Shortstuff hates all things sci-fi but loves costumes...so we'll have to see what wins out.

Then all we're missing is Desire, Despair and Destruction. 

Option 2:  Fiona and Shrek and Puss 'N Boots
Batman would make an awesome Shrek.  Fiona would be fun too, I don't know if I'd do human Fiona or ogre Fiona.  Mo-mo would be awesome as Puss 'N Boots!

Option 3:  I have yet to figure out option 3.

Any suggestions?  My brother may dress up with us if I figure out something cool....the sky is the limit, we could do anything from literature, movies, TV, comic books....

This is really what I think about when I'm falling asleep.

Why do the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles wear masks?

Think about it.  

Most ninjas wear masks so that they won't be recognized.  The TMNT masks do absolutely nothing to hide their identity.  It's not like you see them walking down the street and think "Huh, look at the Teenage Mutant Turtle.  It's clear he's not a secret ninja because he's not wearing a mask."

It's also not as if they need masks to show that they are ninjas.  They carry nunchucks and katanas for goodness sake.

When I asked Batman, he mentioned that they are never without their masks, which brings up more disturbing questions.  Do they have a Phantom of the Opera thing going on under it?  Are they horribly grotesque under their cheerfully colored stripe of fabric?

And if you say that they have masks so that we can tell them apart, that is racist, my friend.  Racist against anthropomorphic turtles and you don't want to be that way.  How dare you insinuate that all turtles look the same?

I fully admit that my mind works in strange ways.

Musicale

I'm like a 15 year old girl when it comes to music.  I get obsessed with one song/album/artist and I play them on repeat, over and over and over and over again.  Hey, stop judging me.  It could be worse.  At least I've outgrown angsty poetry and writing boys' initials over and over again.

I'm kind of surprised that my listening habits haven't made Batman stab me with a fork in an attempt to get something new playing on iTunes.  Although my iPod recently stopped working.  Maybe he arranged for it to have an "accident" with a full cup of water and a chainsaw.  (If he were sabotaging my electronic devices, I'd like to think he wouldn't do a half-assed job of it.)

Anyway, I've decided to share my obsessive love of these songs with the world in a feeble attempt to move on.

note:  Samson is the only video with an actual video, the rest are just the music.

1.  The acoustic version of Fine by Alkaline Trio, from the album This Addiction.



Why I love this:  I've loved Alkaline Trio since high school.  I must have listened to the song Radio a couple hundred times.  I haven't been overly impressed with their more recent albums with the exception of "Remains", and I've always loved their acoustic stuff.  The lyrics of this song are amazing too.  "If I'm the captain of this boat then all my shipmates are fools/ and all the stars in the world couldn't help me steer my way out of this kiddie pool."

2.  The album The Hazards of Love by the Decemberists



Why I love this: It's an entire album that tells a unified story.  Think of it like a rock opera with different characters and scenes.  Pretty damn cool.  I love The Decemberists and I love this album.

3.  Johnny Horton



Why I love this:  My dad must have played his "Johnny Horton's Greatest Hits" tape EVERY SINGLE TIME WE WERE IN THE CAR.  The only other artist I remember listening to just as frequently is Marty Robbins.  I recently bought the album on iTunes and have been dancing around the living room with Mo-mo to it.  His songs are frequently about history/tell a story, and I'm just dorky enough to think that is awesome. 

4.  Do Better by Say Anything, from their self-titled album



Why I love this:  I'm actually a bit ashamed of this one.  I like Say Anything but I admit that they're not...."good" in the strict musical sense.  This song is goofy and poppy and catchy.  I think I have this song playing in the back of my mind whenever I think I'm being lazy about something and not trying hard enough.

5.  Samson by Regina Spektor 



Why I love this:  It's pretty.  And sad.  Some of the lyrics make me think of when I was in Australia.  One of my friends gave me this CD and I've enjoyed it, it's not my usual type of music. 

6.  Once More With Feeling from the cast of Buffy the Vampire Slayer



Why I love this:  Because it's geeky.  Because I've spent the last year watching every single episode of Buffy and Angel.  Because I'm obsessed with Joss Wheadon.  Because I like musicals.  Because I have a gargantuan crush on the character Spike.  Take your pick, these are all valid reasons. 

The Six Stages of Not Getting A Second Interview When You Thought You Would

Approximate time lapse-- one hour

STAGE ONE: SHOCK

 

WHAT!?!  I didn't get the second interview?  Why the hell not?  What did I do wrong?

STAGE 2: PANIC

I'm never going to get a job!!!  My family is going to end up living in a cardboard box.  I better start practicing tying a stick and bindle.  It's a good thing my daughter already knows the word "hobo" because she'll be hearing it a lot.

STAGE THREE: CRYING

*sob*

STAGE FOUR: ANGER

  

I have a freakin' 4.0 in grad school, volunteer and leadership experience out the wazoo, and worked two years in this exact field.  What more could they want, the ability to turn coal into diamonds with my fists?  Laying golden eggs? 

STAGE FIVE: RATIONALIZATION

I bet I was over qualified.  They probably wanted people with only a bachelor's degree.  That lady interviewing me was scared that I would take her job in three years.  

STAGE SIX: HUNGER

 

 You know what I haven't had in forever?  Poptarts.

Stage five and six look very similar to the untrained eye.  

The Reoccurring Kind

I have reoccurring dreams. I go through years of having the same sort of dream, over and over again. There's been five of them--and I'm comfortable sharing four of them.

1. Teeth Falling Out

Apparently this is one of the top ten most common dreams. I had this dream throughout high school and college. A tooth would feel loose, I'd wiggle it, and it would fall out. Then another, then another. It got to the point when I'd start to think in my dream, "Oh crap, this is exactly like my dreams!"

Symbolism? There's a bunch of crap on the internet with various theories, but I think it was general anxiety about growing up and figuring my life out.


2. Ex-Boyfriend giving guilt trips


Basically it's a dream about my ex-boyfriend laying various guilt trips on me. He's dying of cancer and it's my fault, I ruined his life and it's my fault, blah blah blah.

Symbolism? I had a difficult break-up with my high school and college sweetie--and I felt bad about it. This one is a no-brainer.

3. Students run amok

This one started when--yeah, obvious--I started teaching. I still have it on occasion. My students just stop listening to me. First in little ways, like they won't get back into their seat. Then they start misbehaving more and more until they're making out with each other and running into the hallway and having fights (I taught middle school). I can get each one to behave if I focus on the individual but that doesn't help the group chaos--and as soon as I move on to the next, the first starts misbehaving again.

Symbolism? Teaching is hard. I fear the loss of control. And there are just some kids who give you nightmares.


4. Airports

This one is my more recent reoccurring dream. I'm on my way someplace awesome: Italy, Paris. I'm struggling to get to my gate on time. I forget my suitcase in the parking garage and have to go back through security to get it, then can't find my car. I'm bringing my cat, Anoosh, with me and she doesn't have a cat carrier. I realize that I forgot my passport at home. I forgot diapers and formula for my baby.

If by some miracle I make it on the airplane (which my dream has actually let me do once or twice), I always have a connecting flight to make. I never actually get to my destination.

Symbolism? My life is currently in a holding pattern as I try to get done with school and get back into the "real world". It's hard. I have a lot of things to juggle. And I can't wait to get there.