skitzo indeed

I recently ran into an old friend...
I probably haven't seen him in about 10ish years.

we had a few drinks, a few chuckles. it was good to see him.

anyhoo, to get to the heart of the matter, he told me his band was playing this weekend at the phoenix and that I should come.

okay.

today I jumped online to check out the specifics and followed the links to check this band out. I wanted to see what it was all about, what I should expect. the only information I had received so far was "old school heavy metal".

so please go here to see the kookiness I stumbled upon.

live and let I say but WOW, and I don't mean world of warcraft people...

whiskey a-don't-go

The bar scene in Napa is suddenly reminding me that in comparison to the regular clientele in these places, I am ancient.  

During the week all is well and good, but then the weekend arrives and just like that this sleepy town vomits 20 somethings that resemble 12 year olds.

There's something disturbing about girls that look that young dressing like skanks and peddling their asses.  ew.

I feel uncomfortable, slightly annoyed and mentally superior all at once.

stupid kids. 

They're not all ridiculous, but they mostly are and all of the sudden the karaoke scene in the next room looks particularly inviting.

20 minutes and 3 whiskeys later I'm belting out "lost that lovin' feelin" duet style with an old friend.

haha, sometimes it's fun to be "old".

havok unleashed

I have a good friend that I will endearingly refer to as my "crazy" friend.

she and I are crazy in the same way, so we get each other even though no one else really does.

She told me not to make any important decisions from September 24 to October 15.

"why?"  

"because", she replied, ever so calmly, "mercury is going into retrograde and it affects your sign particularly badly"

so I looked it up tonight because this morning my mind was a goddamn pigsty.  My emotional capacity was easily overloaded by random remarks and even though I was making really good progress restraining my homicidal tendencies, I now had decided that life would be easier if I just started picking people off and hiding them in the crawl space with a few buckets of lye.

the following is a summary of what this god forsaken planet is doing to me, all because it wants to spice it up by walking backwards.

"On the day Mercury stations retrograde at 22+° Libra, it will square the Moon in its own sign at 28+° Cancer.

Stephen Arroyo delineates the energies of the Moon in Cancer thus:

Reacts with sensitivity (sometimes over-sensitivity) and with protectiveness (towards self and others)
Feels secure when nurturing and being nurtured by others
Natural sense of timing and ability to tune in to intuition and emotional subtleties
Extremely sensitive to moods and reactions of others; often at the mercy of one’s own moods
Can be over-protective of emotions; strong memory of past emotions is retained forever, still coloring attitudes toward present situations (58)..."

more of this balderdash here.

despite my balder-dashy comment though I can't help but notice that it is eerily striking me close to the home front.  I'm not entirely convinced that I picked the correct excerpt to convey this accurately, but then, that's exactly what this retrograde is supposed to do, make me sound stupid and not be able to communicate myself clearly.

the way today went I should probably stock up on food and call in sick til the 15th of next month.  I get the notion that a heavy, solid, sturdy object seemingly falling from nowhere could quite possibly cave in my dome on any given sunday.

stupid planet

say cheese

I am a server in a trendy little restaurant.

I don't know if you knew this about me...

One of the ridiculous and degrading tasks that people like to set before me is to take their picture.

Now, I have no problem taking your picture over your totally gluttonously ruined table.

What I do have a problem with is how every single one of you fuckers tells me to "just hit the big button on the top right"

really?

really.

Apparently no-one has bothered to take note of the fact that every fucking camera that has been manufactured over the last 20 years at least has this exact same function.

Has no one else on this planet noticed that all of these new-fangled contraptions works in exactly the same way?

Does no one hear the echoing redundancy through the hills when they utter these words?

It's the equivalent of handing a fork to someone and then telling them to poke food with it and vehicle it into your face.

no shit.

44

My dream last night was a happy dream. In fact when I woke up this morning I was hoping to get back to it when I fell back asleep.

I think I did, but I can't be sure.

The contents of the dream are not entirely important I don't think, except the awesome feeling of balance, harmony and happiness. There was also a number involved.

44

The dream itself was pretty lineal, each event being followed by a fairly logical step thereafter.

The number, however, sort of came out of nowhere but I knew it was an important aspect.

I told myself to remember the number so that I could research the relevance when I woke up.

44 : order and organization.

balanced, even, symmetrical.

a square cube or box. (octahedral number)

apparently 44 is a tribonacci number (which means it is complete) and a happy number.

I didn't know any of this stuff about this number until today which is why it is so interesting that it should fit in so perfectly with my happy little dream.

The picture I posted with this blog is from archive page 44. I like it and it makes me feel at peace and a little sleepy.

hm.

houston, I have a problem...

I am Saya and I am addicted to jigsaw puzzles.

really.

really sad.

My habit is up to 3-4 a week, and not that weak shit either, we're talking the heavy stuff with many pieces.

My addiction is causing headaches due to eyestrain and a fat ass from sitting on my tucus for hours on end.

I know I should stop but...

I wish I was addicted to something constructive and healthy, like jogging or eating buckwheat noodles.  maybe I could be one of those weird health nuts that meditates three times a day and uses saline pots to clean out their sinuses.  

Instead I am a weird cat lady that hangs around her house all day wearing her robe, assembling puzzles and watching trashy daytime dramas.  The only thing I'm missing is the ability to chain smoke all day long and survive solely off of microwaved burritos.

maybe I should get out more.

*chuckle*

take a nap and zen fire ze missiles

I am so exhausted lately.

I have the to-do's on the mental list multiplying like bunny rabbits while I'm not paying attention.

I tell them no "under the covers" but those bastards won't listen and the more the chores pile up the less inclined I am to do them.

Now, the basics are covered.  It's not like I'm wallowing in my own filth or anything.  I mean, I do clean myself...

But the rest of the stuff... writing, laundry, sewing my halloween costume, making food, exercising, moving around... it's all too similar to Mt. Everest.

The problem as I see it is that my cats are extraordinarily inconsiderate.  All they care about is themselves.  

me, me, me.  

gimme, gimme, gimme.

It doesn't matter what time of day or night it is, those little beasts will wait until my eyes are finally closing and then do something to wake me up and torture me.

They're like the little monsters in "Cat's Eye" that steal you're breath while you sleep.

mi gatitas es muy mala

It's all well and good for them to sleep all over the goddamn place, even on my black clothes that I have to wear to work tonight.

 

Go ahead you filthy tyrants, apparently I work for you now...

heuristics

Everyone has dreams, aspirations, ambitions...

Mine is to one day open a comic shop.  The hope is that this will happen sooner rather than when I'm too old to lift stuff.

In order to realize my goals I am taking a business class, and because I am too lazy and too busy to actually drag my sorry ass to an honest-to-goodness teaching environment, I am taking an on-line class.

In all actuality it is much more like an actual class than I had believed, and I was a little shocked and impressed by this.  What I am also shocked by, (but not at all impressed by) is people's inability to spell any fucking thing correctly.  My fellow classmates' assignment posts read like remedial exercises that no one bothered to proof read.

It's fucking atrocious and I am embarrassed for you.

excerpt:

"This artile says to me, that good business ethics can manifest itself in the form of environmental awareness. Bussinesses all over the world are jumping in on the "Green" band waggon, implementing different ways of going green or at least education their employees to be more environmentally concious. I see this as good business ethics. In a capitalist situation, where the individual is profiting from the business, and some of the resources that business uses, is the environment around the business, it is only right that that business respect the environment."

Now call me crazy but... 

This article is for a class.  When I post my own articles I proof read my thoughts on said article, to make sure there are no spelling errors and to make sure it makes sense.  In this tiny sample I can find four misspelled words and a few sentences that just don't make sense.  This is also a very common thing in this class, I didn't even pick the worst one I could find, and this isn't even the entire reply.

The super sad part of this is that this person is obviously not stupid, I can see the rationale begging for attention.

But alas, you just made yourself look stupid and now there is no going back.

At the very least, you have made the statement that you just don't care enough and cannot possibly be bothered to hit the little "spellcheck" button.

This leads me to believe that you are extra slothful and lazy.  This in turn manifests itself in mental thoughts and images that I wish I could stab my mind's eye out for.

example: I bet this person doesn't even wipe his ass very well, he's clearly not meticulous at any rate.  ew, I can imagine the shit stain on his boxers.  His side of the bed probably smells like stale poo and sweaty ball sac.  God, I can practically smell it now, I think I feel unwell...

do you see how quickly it spirals out of control???

I swear, some people just have no regard for others ability to make themselves sick with others actions (or lack thereof).

all-overs

It's official.

One or more of my personalities has a sick obsession with Claudio Sanchez.

I had a dream about him last night... and it isn't the first.

To be fair, he could have worse people dreaming about him.  I'm not outwardly strange.  If I am a stalker I'm a particularly lazy one so he needn't worry there.

If I met him I wouldn't try to smell him or rub myself on him.  I'm pretty sure I could conduct myself quite normally in his presence, I just have these dreams about him.

The first time he had children with him and was mowing my lawn.

weird huh?

I thought so, especially since he's the only man I would cheat on my husband with.

But last night I thought I was finally getting into the good stuff.  

He appears in my dream, normal situation, and then suddenly walks into my bedroom naked.

The chemical impulse draws us into each other arms...  our lips meet passionately... and then...

nuthin'.

One of my other personalities hijacked my dreams and booted him out.  The next thing I know I'm dreaming about some totally lame, mundane thing like washing dishes or brushing my teeth.

thanks a lot brain.

thanks for nuthin'

witless cretin

I spent the better part of an evening posting a totally amusing blog about a topic I will not divulge just in case I muster up the motivation to do it again.

The problem, as it were, is that I am retarded.

It seems that I am incapable of mastering this obviously sophisticated (more so than myself, apparently) blogger program.

I don't know why but for some reason I am not able to copy and paste things where I would like them to go, especially pictures.

My post was such a hot mess last night that I had to restart it more than a couple times and in the process completely lost the too-long-to-start-over blog.

le sigh.

I feel like a water-head and this is not congruous with my desire to appear intellectually superior.

I need to figure this out.

I will figure this out...  (oh yes, she will be mine...)

woolgathering

I  had another kooky dream last night.

They shut the whole goddamn downtown area down for labor day, (or some other obscure holiday that everyone else always seems to know about but me) blocked off all the parking, and the big huzzah was to be a movie at the theatre.  

My mother and family were there.  I was panged by feelings that I wasn't being entirely included in the hullabaloo and people were seizing in the street.  Grand Mals followed by cars splashing puddles into their very unfortunate eyes.

At one point I pushed a taxi driver to the ground and kicked him mercilessly for cutting me off and almost hitting my boiler (or car if you didn't catch the last post).  The kicking part made me happy by appeasing some sick bloodthirsty part of my psyche.

At another point I suspected an intruder, freaked the fuck out and "escaped" out the garage door only to discover that the interloper was a case of bottled water.

seriously?

the icing on this dreamy cake?

the movie was a re-run 

chicago overcoat

I always wanted a friend that could quip in retro 20's, 30's, hardboiled, etc. slang.

Not only did I want a friend like that, I wanted to BE that friend.  

I wanted to be the girl that says stuff like, "Hey there, hep-cat, don't get all cheesed over the boondoggle.  Let's go futz around at the speak-easy, maybe have a go-around with the nibcocked modocs..." and so on and so forth.

In point of fact, I have tried several times to meet this lofty goal and all I get for my troubles are blank stares.  

I playfully call my gal-pal a "roundheels".  She replies, "huh?".

I say, "Now you're on the trolley!".  She asks, "what trolley?  wait.  what?"

I tells ya it takes all the darb out when no cat or bim picks up what yer putting down.

the self titled album debuts

I have been blogging forever.

Before I knew what a blog was I was dishing out uncertainties on my word processor (gasp!) in an effort to more readily access them at a later date.

The idea was that I would write these things, very smart and wittily, and then forget about them.

Later, say 10 years or so, I would stumble upon this literary treasure and remember the old times while simultaneously appreciating how funny and dapper I was (am).

Myspace has, up until this point, been the dumping ground for my belles lettres and now my friends I believe it is time for the proverbial branching out...