So I was doin' this thing...

and I amused myself greatly so here you go the question and my answer...

If you were a crayon, what color would you be? I would like to think I would be royal blue with sparkles ... But lets face it I would probably be that weird green that almost looks like a heather green and it looks kinda neat but you wonder what you would ever use it for and then the dog eats it and his poo comes out green and your dad can’t see it in the yard because it is green and he steps in it when he is mowing the lawn and you get in trouble for leaving your crayons where the dog could get them ... And then you realize that if your dad couldn’t see it in the yard you probably should have been using it to color grass.

YEAR IN REVIEW!!!

Shamelessly stolen from the Doc.

January 2005~ Depression about my joblessness, Anger about being screwed over by supposed "friends", and Lee (including promises not to get married any time soon, which I have kept if a wedding date just under two years after the promise was made counts as "no time soon")

February 2005~ Lee and relationship fears and joys and the great Birth control debate

March 2005~ The Birth Control debate rages on

April 2005~ Still jobless and stressed

May 2005~ Angry again about supposed "friends" (a different set this time) being assholes

June 2005~ The Pizza Waitress era. And Beer reviews

July 2005~ Books, HP6 and A Very Long Engagement. The London Bombings

August 2005~ The engagement (mine this time) anonymous comments and games.

September 2005~ Quit my job at the pizza place, Movie reviews, Banned Books debate, and Hurricane Kat reflections

October 2005~ A very random conglomeration of thoughts, no theme

November 2005~ The poorly received reformatting and job stress

December 2005~ Job stress, irritation and the quiet life.

Upon re-reading I do like most of what I put out there ... though my proofing skills need improving.

Last night I had a dream.

I was in school, between ten and thirteen years old. Treat Williams was my teacher. I raised my hand to answer a question but every time I went to speak this really bitchy girl in front of me (who I did go to school with in reality) would start talking over me. She wasn't saying anything important ... just Ralphie sort of babble ("my cat's breath smells like cat food" kind of stuff). I tried answering many times but each time I tried to conduct classroom business (like answering questions) she would start talking. Treat Williams did nothing about it. He behaved as though it was MY fault she was talking and I got in trouble for not making myself heard over her. I threatened her and it did no good. Finally I slapped her. I was surprised at the force I was able to muster while sitting in a desk. My slap left a large, red, welt across her cheek. She didn't seem very hurt. Her only reaction was that she finally shut up, but I instantly knew I was in deep doo-doo. Treat Williams was less than pleased.
When I was a young school girl misbehavior in school was recorded on the chalk board. The first time you were bad your name went on the board. The second time you were bad you got a check mark next to your name, the third time your name was circled and something REALLY bad happened. (I can't say what the really bad thing is, I don't recall ever getting past the check mark stage with any sane teacher, and the insane teacher made kids eat soap.)
In dream land the progression of misbehavior was recorded by Mr. Williams going to the board and drawing a beautiful scene descriptive of the life cycle of White Tailed Deer. I had been so bad when I struck the other girl that he drew the deer from fawn to stag and then filled the woods with hunters taking aim at the deer herd.
He went into a science lesson about the speed of bullets and the heat of lasers when he suddenly stopped next to my desk. He removed his shoes and began using his feet to riffle through my books. Using his toes he held up a brown paper bag filled with some sort of chunky red goo. "Oh god! It stinks so much I wont even touch it with my hands!" The contents of the bag had once been my lunch, now rotted beyond recognition. I took the bag from him, went outside and threw it in the dumpster.
The alarm went off.

I think the strangest thing about the dream is the effect it had on me upon waking. I had been fretting recently about times in the past when I have behaved in a less than exemplary manner. Nothing so terrible, I just sometimes get into a funk thinking about all the times and all the little ways I have been either intentionally or accidentally unkind to others. I woke from the dream and I felt better about it, all of it. I was able to internalize "water under the bridge" quite a bit better. Perhaps the rotten lunch was the foul guilt I have carried with me for years (sometimes many years ... I still think about hurtful things I said almost twenty years ago.) and now I was finally able to discard it? I don't know, but I do feel better.

Happy Winter Solstice Everyone!

And if you are a S.A.D. sufferer, welcome to Hell.

New to Keenspot

CANDI ... like CRFH!!! without the devil worship and tentacles and werecoyote roommates. A realistic CRFH!!! if you will.