Hairdresser neighbor worries about me

P (very vocal New Yorker): "So you're all alone here for hours every day?"

Me: "Yep."

P: "God. I'd go crazy. I need to talk to someone, all the time."

Me: "We're different people, P."

Yes, yes we are.

He laughed at me for a long time. I stick out like a sore thumb in these parts because I'm not forthcoming with everything going on in my head. I wouldn't have it any other way. So there.

Yesterday was a day filled with huge amounts of squishy, gooey love.



I got a really great package in the mail (I LOVE MAIL) from Kerry (as pictured above in Italy, 2005), music from CG, made some delicious pomegranate cardamom cocktails with Peter and his roommates, and got to sit around with Amy (as pictured below on the same trip) at night and watch teevee.

I am seriously so happy and the stress I should be feeling at the moment as mounds of studying and work are piling up is pleasantly absent.

She's Only Seventeen...

This has been bothering me for the past few years. Why are there so many songs about seventeen-year-olds? Just off the top of my head, I can recall...

The Cars - Let's Go
The Stray Cats - Sexy 'n Seventeen
The Beatles - I Saw Her Standing There
Stevie Nicks (I think it was her solo stuff) - Edge of Seventeen
Winger - Seventeen (a CLASSIC)
Ladytron - Seventeen (I enjoyed having this played for me on my 21st birthday)

This is just from my iPod... except for the Beatles, I had the displeasure of hearing this song multiple times over the years. The Beatles are probably the only "inspiration" type of band (those that inspired tons of impostors and blindly faithful fans over the years) that exists that makes me like every band that came after them more. Even bands like the Exploding Hearts and the Star Spangles probably got some sort of inspiration from The Beatles. They are the original "The" band anyway, right? I blame them for people refusing to be creative with band names for the past 50 years.

The band that's been bothering me the most lately with their blatant plagiarism is Rilo Kiley. They used to be so good, up to their bullshit excuse for an album they released a couple months ago. UGH. Stop hanging out with Stevie Nicks, Jenny Lewis. Keep doing what I liked, keep it simple and poppy and at least 25% depressing. If I'm assaulted with the song "Silver Lining" one more time I will self-immolate (you know what I'm talking about, Tiny).

The funny thing is I'm not superstitious.

This is the second time I've dreamed about owls and had someone in my family die within 24 hours. My grandfather is very sick and in the hospital and I don't want to sleep at all, ever again, to prevent the possibility of dreams.

Owl To hear the solemn, unearthly sound of the muffled voice of the owl, warns dreamers that death creeps closely in the wake of health and joy. Precaution should be taken that life is not ruthlessly exposed to his unyielding grasp. Bad tidings of the absent will surely follow this dream. To see a dead owl, denotes a narrow escape from desperate illness or death. To see an owl, foretells that you will be secretly maligned and be in danger from enemies.

Dream

There's a huge, abandoned mansion somewhere near my house -- possibly in Hillsborough. Every detail has been meticulously recreated into its authentic 19th century beauty... libraries filled with old books, rooms filled with antique beds perfectly made, beautiful antique claw-footed bathtubs and chandeliers all over the house. For reasons unknown it has been abandoned, though... it looked like it used to be a museum or a tourist spot. It reminded me of the Carolands mansion.

I'd been going there for a while to be alone, as I will do with strange spots I think only I know about. It was easy to break into and for some reason I didn't believe the rumors that it was haunted. One day I walk in and feel like I'm not alone. I walk into a room that's emitting noise and my brother is laying on the bed watching television. I have no idea how a TV got into this old house, but I don't question it. We talk for awhile and watch TV like it's a completely mundane day.

The cops come. They accuse us of destroying the place (apparently the mansion had been stricken by vandals/thieves recently) and try to arrest us. I tell them it's impossible that we had done it, because we hadn't been upstairs where the damage existed. THEN, for some bizarre and unknown reason, I start moving things with my mind, like Stephen King's Carrie. The entire mansion, top to bottom, is restored to its pristine condition.

THEN... I start screaming at the top of my lungs, for a long, long time. As I am screaming, every book in the house is rearranged into its corresponding color group. I tell my brother, who is standing next to me, to help. Apparently the gene that allows me to scream like a banshee and move things with my mind has been given to him, as well. The cops are impressed and let us go.

Fin.

I cannot even begin to decipher what this is all about. Not only did I not take any hallucinogens the night before, there is nothing in this dream that relates to anything I did yesterday.

(picture is from here)

Is it so wrong...

that when I receive e-mails that weren't meant for me, I rarely correct the sender? I find it hilarious how often I'm mistaken for someone else because of my somewhat common username on gmail.

Right now someone thinks I'm a bridesmaid in their wedding. I've been invited to their bachelorette party in Vegas the weekend of October 17-18.

A few months ago, someone thought I was their daughter and continually sent e-mails asking for my grades because they were paying her rent while she was in community college. As their e-mails grew increasingly urgent, I corrected them... and let them know that I was willing to send them my grades in exchange for a few hundred dollars a month. They sent one back saying "We would, but we're not Bob Gates! Ha ha!" People from the Midwest are great.

I guess I enjoy the sense of voyeurism in all of it. Maybe this is why I love memoirs so much... the gritty details, the glimpses into someone else's personal life one isn't usually afforded.

Today was a good day.

The best part about any of this is the ghostly reflection of Jeff in the kitchen.

I love where I live

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/04/02/george-w-bush-sewage-pla_n_94601.html

I also can't wait for the Olympic torch to make its way to San Francisco. I really wanted to go and witness the chaos, but unfortunately cannot get out of work.

http://www.sfbg.com/blogs/politics/2008/04/to_china_with_tough_love.html

My aunt is in China right now, I wonder what it's like there at the moment, with all the frenetic energy circling around the Olympics (good luck rehabilitating your image, guys) and the Tibetans protesting. Pretty classy that they published propaganda blaming the Dalai Lama for inciting riots.

Dream

"To dream that your hair is white or turns white, indicates that something important has just been made aware to you. It is a symbol of wisdom and insight. The dream may also be a metaphor suggesting that you are feeling 'light-headed'."

I don't really see this as true, but it's a nice change from the usual teeth-falling-out dream I attribute to grinding my teeth in my sleep.