Day 2-Early To Rise

I wake to many puzzling questions in the morning. Like for one, who was in the rabbit suit? Or how did that spider get in there? Today, the question that troubles me is why was Pierce Brosnon, dressed in a pin striped suit, chasing my child self through an abandoned warehouse with a knife in his hand? Oh, what a fun ride it was. In the dream I get the better of Mr. Brosnon.

Houses are a huge subject in my dreams. In one of them, while walking down a forest path, I came upon a construction site, where a group of gnomes were building a gigantic gingerbread house. The foreman (think of a gnome with a hard hat) spotted me watching them, and greeted me pleasantly, as all gnomes are want to do.

'What a beautiful house you are making, sir.' I say to the gnome.

He shakes his head at me and says that they are not making a house at all. 'We're making space,' he says. 'It's the space that is important; the space is what matters.'

I was confused.

'You see,' he explains, 'we have to think about the person who will live here, what space she will want to occupy. What matters is the compartmentalization of emptiness. The walls have no value because they can come down. But the space will always remain.

And just as he said those last words the gingerbread house caved in and collapsed to the ground. All the poor little gnomes fell with it.

The foreman just laughed and shrugged his shoulders. 'It happens,' he said dismissively. 'After all, it is a gingerbread house.'

I wasn't so accepting. 'But all that work you put into it...what a waste of time.'

'No, you don't understand!' Jumped the gnome. 'We don't expect to actually finish the house.'

'You don't?'

'Don't get me wrong...it would be nice to finish it, but one shouldn't have too high expectations. It has been like this for a long time, you see. We build a house, we get so far, and then something knocks it down. All there is left to do is rebuild. As long as the foundation is solid, the house will keep from falling away completely to dust.'

'So how long do you intend to rebuild the same house?'

The gnome looked annoyed, as if I had dared to ask such an impertinent question. 'It's never the same house.' He argued. 'No, never the same house. Every time we rebuild, it's a brand new house. We never do work on the same house twice.'

'Okay...so how long do you intend building and rebuilding?'

'Until we retire.'

'And when is that?'

'Who can say? Now, if you excuse me, there's much work to do. Good speaking with you.'

The gnome foreman walked away to meet with his workers. There was more I had wanted to ask him, but he seemed really busy.

Day 1-Got Something In My Pocket For You

I live with the greatest guy in the world, although at first meeting he can rub you the wrong way. J is a solid guy. Sure, he can be a little pushy at times, but that's only because he can't stand watching people not live up to their potential, hence the reason why I am a constant source of aggravation in his life. He knows I can do better, so why don't I? J likes to think the world is black and white. It is for him, I guess.

This reminds me to think twice about giving J any credit for when he's right. Last night, after making my first post, I felt so good about accomplishing something I gave J a big hug and thanked him for getting on my case. J doesn't take gratitude or praise graciously. From then on he gloated and nagged me for butt sex as a reward. I told him patiently that I was too busy thinking about my career, my future, which was the truth.

'Why think about your career tomorrow, when you can think about your rear tonight? Har har.' I knew he was just getting. Then again, J is not a man to turn down butt sex ever.

I guess I could call J my boyfriend. Outside of living together, we're strictly monogamous, but that's only because we're too lazy to sleep around. It's just not worth the effort to chat somebody up, pretend you're interested in their life, and then finagle a shag out of the deal. Why go through all that trouble when you go somebody right there. Yet, J and I have a pretty fraternal relationship. He eyeballs women in front of me all the time. Sometimes I point them out to him. He calls me old bag, I call him prick. He would never ask to marry me, and if he did (never) it would piss me off. He knows me better than that.

And I know him. He doesn't want to get tied down with a wife and kids. That's just not his style. I'm looking at him right now as finishes up the jizz spatter in the raccoon and badger scene before he takes off for work. I wouldn't want any kid to have a dad who likes drawing cartoon animal porn. Gross. I must admit, though, the detail in his work is pretty good.

Day 0-What Am I Doing Here?

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God...this is my first blog ever and I don't know what to say...

Erm...Hi, I guess.

This wasn't my idea, but J's. J is the person I live with. We've been living together for eight years. It's like a marriage, with J as the nagging wife and me the hen pecked husband. Anyway, J got tired of me sitting on my ass all day looking at a blank screen. 'Start writing, asshole!' Says J. But I can't. I just don't have it in me.

'You know what you need to do?' (J often starts his sentences like this) 'You need to start your own blog.'

J actually stood behind me and watched me sign up to this thing. Like I said: he's like my freakin' wife.

God, another blog--another, fucking blog. Isn't the world sick of these things, yet? Do I really one be one of those people who shares ever single boring detail of her life with a group of strangers? What I had for breakfast...what mood I'm in...were my stools loose or solid?

No, I need to stop bitching. I actually admire people who have their own blogs. At least they're doing something with the lives. My sister, for chrissakes, has her own website! My lazy, shut in, lithium popping, bathe-only-Tuesdays sister has a freakin' website. She hasn't seen sunlight in five years and she has her own internet following. Surely, if that vampire can do something productive, so can I? I was supposed to be the good one, after all. The smart one. The one who went to college. My sister dropped out of high school and got a GED.

My sister and I have hated each other for years. Actually, she hates me. I don't really think that much about her now that we no longer live in the same house. I don't boil over at the mention of her name as she does at mine, and, to be very honest, I wish her all the best. But I was almost certain she was doing as poorly as I am, maybe a little worse. I didn't expect her to accomplish anything, and yet, last week my mom chirps on the phone that Sis has her own website and has finished a novel. Sonuvabitch.

That's my problem. I'm always under estimating Vampira. She may not show much ambition in getting a job, or ridding the stink on her person, but when she sets her mind to something, the bitch is unstoppable. Only thing is, there isn't much she gets excited about besides Japanese cartoons and hot wings. At least she doesn't over think every freakin' move, like I do. If I had such motivation I could really get my projects off the ground. This blog is a start. Guess I owe you one, J.

(Hey...who wrote that song 'Separate Ways'? That was Journey, right? Yeah, it was. J's little brother is on the phone boo-hooing over some chick he banged and broke up with. He's wants a list of songs to text the lyrics to his ex. I suggest 'Separate Ways' by Journey. J says 'Separate Lives' by Phil Collins because J is a giant vagina...so is his lil' brother. Who in the hell text song lyrics to his ex-girlfriend? Douche. I am so going to laugh in his face.)