Sunday, September 30, 2007

Back to reality

I read a lot of design blogs, and I've noticed something about the design world that makes me giggle. No one lives like this. There are coffee tables with perfectly arranged objects, objects d'art, small delicate breakable things that have no place in a home where people honest to god live. Sure, it's a nice place to visit, but just try puling in one of those bathrooms after a night of too much fun. In fact, try walking through said house on said night. I bet you wake up the next morning covered in expensive shards, your $15,000 designer couch now stained with some stranger's love juice.

Give me a real house, give me design that is affordable and works with the reality of mud and dirt and clumsiness and cats. All the design website pictures have dogs in them. Little dogs. These dogs have probably never experienced the pure doggy joy of a frozen horse turd in the winter, or rolling in dead skunk. These dogs live pale imitations of real dog lives, much like their owners, who seem to never get dirty of receive piles of junk mail or, for that matter, do anything more offensive than tinkle in their ultra clean and sophisticated powder rooms.

I have witnessed pictures of houses that are decorated entirely in white. Or orange. Or any other color....what is that like when you first wake up? I can only imagine a jarring sensation. One not dissimilar to being hit in the face with a pie while a gong sounds next to your ear.

While many of the homes and apartments do look sensational, and I have been inspired to class up our humble home because of these internet gems, I really do want to see these homes in action shots. I want a photographer to sneak in on a Saturday night after a long week and catch the inhabitants wearing old, frumpy clothes, not using coasters and dealing with a toddler while fighting a cold. I want a little realism mixed in with my form and function, because while pretty, the design I see isn't reality. These pictures are the equivalent to the runway shows in Paris or Milan. I saw a picture this morning of a woman wearing a dress with dried leaves under it, which has to be really comfortable. She also had makeup that hinted at Frankenstein's Monster's Bride, except not as well done. And orange hair. This, also, is not reality, and I keep waiting for the punchline of the joke. How do these people make money? Where is there a market for dried leaf dresses? White couches? Women who break when they sneeze? Glasses that shatter when you laugh while holding them?

I want money for my insanity too.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Expanding on a Theme

The dreams continue.

Last night I was at a Drive In, and I was being pursued up the scaffolding behind the screen by an ex-boyfriend. I think I was telling him to go away.

Now, I don't have a lot of time in my life to contemplate the meanings of my dreams, so I usually just get bothered by them and then push the thoughts away. Today, however, the kids were being really good, and as I chopped cabbage and washed dishes I had some time to think.

When I wake up from the dreams of People Past, I am usually disturbed. I sometimes have a feeling of profound loss, and sometimes I feel like something important has just slipped through my fingers to shatter on the floor. You know, that gut-wrenching "shit!" feeling. I then feel guilty, because the dream was about a former lover, and I love my husband. I didn't ask to dream about other men, and I spend a lot of my time telling them to go away. I realized something today, however, that shed some light on the former flame theme. That's all I have: former flames.

I've never had a lot of girl friends, and when I did, some of them were girlfriends. I've never been particularly comfortable around other females. I find them catty, petty and devious. Guys are usually much more straightforward. At least with my guy friends I knew what they wanted and what they were thinking. And yes, I ended up sleeping with some of them. Because validation is a basic human need, and I got fucked up in the head somewhere along the way. That's life, and I wasn't a slut, just a confused kid who wanted to feel safe and loved. Digressing...

So most of the people in my dreams were my boyfriends because that's who my friends were. The reason I feel a loss is because I did lose something, and maybe I'm just realizing it. These people are exes for a reason. The loss is for who I thought they were. Why I'm still dealing with this subconsciously I don't know, but at least I know a little more about the situation. I've loved lots of people (and not in the carnal sense) and I've been hurt when things have ended. I've been extraordinarily lucky to have found a person that I believe is a soul mate, as ridiculous as that sounds when said aloud. I am thankful for my spouse daily. But to realize how much I love him, I had to break a lot of eggs, so to speak. The eggs are still in my head somewhere, causing trouble.

So we'll see what this realization does to the dream theme, and maybe my next post can be about puppies, or chapped lips, or anything the hell else.

Monday, September 17, 2007


Lately I've been dreaming about people I haven't seen in a really long time. I've dreamed about old friends and lovers, about people I used to fear or distrust and about people I barely knew. There is nothing sexual about these dreams; most of the time I'm asking the people why they are here and what the hell do they want, it's been years since I saw them last. I'm not sure what has caused this night time trip down memory lane, but I'm not a willing passenger and I want my dreams about plates full of chocolate chip cookies back.

Last night's episode was about an old friend named Eric. Like most of the dreams as of late, I have no way of finding the person I dreamed about, and I'm not sure I'd want to. I have moved on with my life, and am not the person who knew these other people. My Mom firmly believes that if you have either a really vivid dream about another person, or a series of dreams about them, then you should find that person because they need you. Dreams are very important to my family. We have stories about talking to each other, dead relatives, and other equally crazy things in our dreams. My Grandmother swears she knew I was pregnant before I told her because she dreamed about it. My Mom says the same. And yet I don't want to take a can opener to my sealed past, dredging up old times better in memory than in reality. You can't go back.

The question remains, however. Why is my subconscious pulling out these people? I feel snippets of these dreams for days afterwards, and in the end I guess I just end up feeling haunted by my mistakes and lost companions. Should I find them again? Let the sleeping dogs lie? Seek a shrink? Whatever the reason for these dreams is, I'll be happy when this phase is over.

Thursday, September 6, 2007

The Aftermath

My daughter was returned to me today. She spent last night at her grandparent's house. My parents. The ones who successfully raised me to be the adult I am. Apparently they threw all the rules out the window when I spawned, because she came home exhausted, grimy and spoiled. She had a cut on her forehead and nose, was covered in dirt and was falling over from being so tired. It seems she didn't sleep so well at Grandma's house, either. When she got home she fell over again, started crying and looked so pathetic. Soooo pathetic. Then Grandma left, The Crying began, and she fell asleep while eating lunch.

She had a blast. I'm glad she's back. She getting ibuprofen tonight before bed, because I felt the molar in there. It's the size of a Buick.