Psychic Rain

Mr. Bean, I love you.

I'm psychic. But there are two things I'm psychic about that always end up negative for me- the first being the following: if I straighten my hair, I know it will rain that day. I'd bet money on it. The second negative psychic, future-telling skill I possess is THIS: if I wear white or light colored clothing, I also know it will rain.

"LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING!"

As I have just begun what will most likely be my last fall semester of college, I am reminded of one of these instances. I was always the girl that wore jeans, chucks and usually a tshirt, hoody, jacket, scarf, etc - as many layers that really shouldn't go together as I possibly could (I tend to like that sort of thing in the fall particularly.) But all of this is beside the point, since the story took place in spring. But if you take nothing else from this, know that I never dressed up for class, and that I made fun of people that did- you know the girls that show up to class looking like they're competing for Ms. Universe. "I'm a single hOtT female with a passion for animals. I want the world to know that if we work together, we can build a better envirn...ament for our petsssss." *Adorable flirtatious smile

Antywhay, I had bought a yellow cotton halter dress from Goodwill that was absolutely adorable. It was a pale yellow, and fairly light, but more of a stiff dress than the flowy kind. I decided to wear it to class. I don't remember seeing any clouds at all on the way to school. However, as soon as I was getting out of my car, a torrential downpour began. Of course, I carry no umbrella because I don't mind rain and I like being surprised. BUT this time, it would've been nice. At first, I started running to the Business Education building, but within 20 seconds, I was completely soaked. Absolutely soaked. Like just-jumped-in-a-pool soaked. So I just took off my shoes to hold them so they didn't get ruined, and started walking to class. There was no point in running - might as well enjoy the rain at this point. I walked underneath the awning, put my shoes back on and proceeded to walk towards class. While I was in the hallway, I looked down at my dress. The yellow dress was... no longer stiff, to put it lightly. It was much like a clear body suit. I grabbed the front and tried to pull it off of my legs, but as soon as I let go, it clung right back to me. It was like a magnetized dress or a "dress pant". And dresses that are trying to be pants are just really awkward. I walked into class, literally dripping water everywhere, lookin'a'like'a wet rat, and not the cute kind... Like a literal... wet rat. And everyone in the whole class looked at me and stopped talking. Then they all started snickering to themselves. My professor said something like, "Oh my!" (although I'm sure that whatever it is that she said had less of a Chelsea-ism than that.) What to do? I don't remember what I did. I just remember those 5 minutes, and feeling like I was in kindergarten, but kind of appreciating the fact that I was experiencing one of those moments finally.

I should take a break from this blog. Or actually start posting real things and stop being a wuss. I feel like I'm a grandparent trying to pass down stories.

In Love with the Memories I Make

I really enjoy reading into dreams. Call it superstitious. Call it what you will. I feel like even if it doesn't scientifically mean anything (which I think it really probably does anyway), you can still learn from your dreams. Much like a fortune cookie or your horoscope. For example, the horoscope for Aries today is "You could be in the mood to break free from a situation which restricts you. Don't make a snap decision which you might regret."

Ok. I don't necessarily feel like that was for me specifically. However, I view it as a proverb for the day. I'll try not to make hasty decisions- that's never a bad idea. Ok cool.

Anyway, I had a dream about being a surrogate mother for my sister. It was so cool. I was pregnant for about ten minutes in my dream (which was somehow enough time to make the CUTEST baby ever). I was showing him off. He was beautiful..... I don't know what my infatuation with surrogate mothers' is, but I should probably look into that as well.

The entire time I lived in Baton Rouge, I had concentration camp dreams. They were horrible. I always had Jews in my house and was trying to hide them- doing whatever I had to to keep them safe. I remember at a certain point, I was slamming this informant into a table, trying to make her pass out so we could leave. I didn't want to kill her. I just wanted her to pass out, but she never would, she just got weaker and weaker. She would swing to hit me and she never could- I was only hitting her. But she would never pass out. It was a horrible feeling. I remember starting to think "At what time does what I'm doing begin to be a greater degree of wrong than the degree of right that I am doing? Is this worth it?" I just wanted to stop. I also had dreams about people being tortured and I couldn't do anything. It was like I was literally a fly on the wall- I was above everyone else, seemingly in a high corner of the room, just watching, unable to move. I saw the most horrible things- things I didn't even realize could happen until after I woke up. It was all very scientifically accurate. It was too smart. It scared me, it disgusted me. I now look back and realize that as soon as me and my past boyfriend broke up, I stopped having those dreams. I haven't had one since. In fact, I had very positive dreams after that. One in particular that was the coolest dream I've ever had- I know it meant something.

Anyway, this past week, I had a dream about a friend cutting my hair also. Everything that I find on that says it means a fear of losing a reputation or freedom or something of that nature. Which I could see. But I've never had this kind of dream before and, considering that I HAD short hair before, I think it means something different for me. Here is my idea on the matter. Before I cut my hair, I had never realized how much I associated having my long hair with me being a girl. When I was little, I always wanted REALLY long hair that I could braid and do fun things with. But I was the black sheep of the family. My sisters had long thick brown hair and were medium skinned. I was bald until I was three, had thin, white blonde hair and was fair skinned. My hair never got past shoulder-length until I was about twelve. But then, when I was 19 or so, I decided I wanted to do something different and I didn't care what. So I let a friend, Brett Roberts, chop my hair off however he wanted. It turned out SO short, which made me really sad as soon as it was done. But I told him I would love it the next day.... And I did! I LOVED having short hair; I felt like it fit my personality well..... This feels like the gayest post ever. Haha But then, I started getting this lesbian complex. I have a lot of guy friends that have always made jokes about me being a lesbian because I rarely like guys as more than friends and have always been a tomboy. And I never cared at all, because... I know I'm not a lesbian. Haha But all of a sudden, no guy ever looked at me anymore. I never got the "second glance" from anyone EXCEPT for girls. :( Ughhh. That was the only thing I hated about short hair- while I felt extremely comfortable and like myself, I felt as if the only people that liked seeing me at my most comfortable state were people that I didn't care to see me that way. It became frustrating. So ALL THAT TO SAY, I think it was a pretty cool dream that my friend was cutting my hair. Because having short hair is somewhat vulnerable for me now. When you have long hair, you can hide behind it, which can be fun. But short hair, you can't do that with. To have a friend cut your hair short means that I feel comfortable with them seeing me for me, and that they are as well - that they WANTED to. Even if it was just a dream, it was still a cool feeling. I remember feeling proud of ourselves, rebellious and child-like almost. It was sweet.

Sometimes, I wish dreams could last a lot longer than they do. I started writing a song one time about dreams. "I wonder each time when I wake why I'm in love with the memories I make." I feel that if you dream about someone, you WANTED them in your life more than they already were. It's a beautiful life we can create in a dream - literally, everything can be exactly the way you would have it. You're the only one that can see it, and you could've made it however you wanted. But it was what it was. The perfect life sometimes isn't so far from what it is now.

The Kills

Tighten Up - The Black Keys

Star Alfur - Sigur Ros

Wake Up - Arcade Fire

15 Step - Radiohead

Swing Your Heartache - Young Galaxy

Need I say anything?

Mr. Bojangles - Dance

I have a crush on the one on Willy Wonka's right. No, his left in the picture. Like if you WERE Willy Wonka. Gah! Nevermind.

- I dance like a white person for the most part when I try to dance like a black boy. That upsets me.

- I'm really good at dancing like my mom. It's spot-on. In fact, I broke into a full fledged mom dance party last night with a buddy at the Boardwalk. It was beautiful.

- I'm also not bad at dancing like a prostitute... I'm okay with that.

Here are your "Random Pics for the Day"

Sometimes I smile like this when I'm at my coolest.

And on a real, non-ancy note, I miss you already. Is odd.

D3 and The Wells

So the 16th floor of the Regions building is being renovated. And my office is nearest the cOnStRuCtIoN zOnE!!! So the past week, I've been used to hearing very annoying drills and tables smashing into walls.... walls being knocked down.... etc. Today, I got to hear what sounded like a man drowning in vomit for about five minutes. I felt bad for him.... but was laughing quietly to myself, of course. Everyone on my side of the building left their office because it was so loud and disgusting. I didn't mind them leaving; I stayed- I didn't want him to see me if I left, and I definitely didn't want to walk in on him puking all over the fresh carpet they put in. :( Poor wittle guy. So I just waited in my office. Until I started thinking about the poor man, by himself, at the end of the hall, no trash can, just puking everywhere. I thought about him walking zombie-like down the hall for someone to help him.... And my office would be the first thing he came to. I thought about hiding behind my desk. It felt like the apocalypse.

GREAT WEEKEND playing with my boys. :) Really, really wonderful.

I thought of something over the past couple of days. Why is it that some little kids just want to fit in, and other little kids just want to be different? Kind of odd how it works, is it not?

YESSSSS!!!!! How frightening.

Also, I have a Vitamin D3 deficiency, which explains my hair falling out, me being tired all the time, me not really feeling like myself (it makes you irritable and have mood swings), etc. So, all is well and all I have to do is take a couple of D3 vitamins a day. So glad.

The Bucket List Begins

Oooooo....

So last week, I thought about doing a project where I look at pictures from every state and try to pick out where I would ideally live. Rather, what general region I would like to live in, based on the nature in the area mainly. *Tree hugger But there are so many states- I get overwhelmed. And then I looked up pictures of Louisiana, and the pictures that I found look nothing like what most of Louisiana actually looks like. It made people that live in Louisiana look like we lived in Cypress trees with pelicans and alligators as our only wildlife. I got discouraged and gave up, though I still want to pick the project back up at some point.

Had to pick out my school and work schedule today. It's this whole weight and balances thing with sanity on one side and money on the other. Trying to pretend like I'm an adult is quite stressful.

I should start tabulating my bucket list. It's been in my head since I was little. My first entry goes as follows:

- Play an instrument until my fingers bleed. (Anything my dad did when he was my age automatically got put in the BAD ARSS part of the Bucket List. I don't necessarily want to do this anymore now, but it's worth putting on here to pay homage to my childhood dreamssssssss. Such a sweet little child, I was.... ... Who am I kidding? I really wouldn't mind bleeding all over my piano if I got the opportunity now anyway, so I can't act as if I've grown up too much. I'd rig some awesome looking band-aid knuckle wrap and feel like I really accomplished something. I'd rig the shit out of it.

Little Things

Today, I was driving to work and noticed that something was different about the drive...

Over the past month or so, I have seen a little Asian woman taking her morning walk as I drive to work. It doesn't sound that eventful or out of the ordinary. Other than that she rests her wrists on her hips as she walks; and as she takes each step, she raises the opposite wrist and slams it down on her hip.... Very odd exercise routine. I would think maybe, say, like wrist weights or something before the hip/wrist collision idea. Buuuuut, that's cool! Whatever makes her happy.

Anyway, seeing her each morning started off with a hasty thought like "Ha! Look at that little lady. Even the way she walks is foreign!" Or something equally as judgmental and horribly racist. (Oh, come on. You know you think stuff like that for just a split second). But then, she started becoming endearing. She was everything that I could want out of "Awkward Top o' the Morning to Ya"'s. I started looking for her jerky movements each morning. She was always there - it became familiar.

But today, she wasn't there at all. I caught myself looking for her, looking down the streets where I usually see her. Nowhere to be found. Suddenly, the morning felt... off. I didn't realize how attached I'd gotten to her off-beat gait and odd-fitting striped tanks. It's an odd thing - what becomes special to us. The little things are often more important than the big things. Or at least I feel they are appreciated more. And very few people understand that. I can tell my mother about how one of my friends brought me three homemade chocolate chip cookies, and to my mom, it would be just that - "Oh cool. That was sweet. Why did you feel the need to tell me that?" But chocolate chip cookies (particularly homemade) are my absolute weakness. I would do most anything for some CC cookies. And I hate going to the trouble of making cookies and HAVING TO WAIT ON THEM!!! So, put those two together, and you've pretty much won a piece of my heart over. My mom wouldn't get that. In fact, no one really would except for me and maybe the person that gave them to me. Obviously this example is silly and doesn't really apply. But all that to say, that I am so thankful for the little things in life as well as the little things in other people. They make my friends different people. I know them on a different level. The ins and outs of us are so fascinating. I want to know what makes them tick. I want to give and take. I want to laugh and hold you. I want to be lying on my back in the park. I want to be on top of a building in the city. I want to be in a hoop dress three hundred years ago. ....NO, I want to be here right now. It's as close to anything wonderful as I could ask for. I just have to remind myself to appreciate the little things that are a part of my life right now. Imagination is a wonderful thing, but it tends to make one less in the here-and-now than they should be. Focus. There are so many little things in my life to be enjoyed. And I really, really do.