August 30th, 2001

(no subject)

I dreamed of Robert DeNiro last night. We were kissing passionatly on my bed in my room of my parents house. I was worried that we'd be caught, so I suggested that we move (into what i realized later after waking up!) into my mom's bedroom. The only catch was that in my mom's bedroom, there was an evil, intelligent plant. It looked much like my hanging cactus thats in my window now: long, spiny tendrils, reaching...
Except this plant had long black braids, not unlike these hair weaving brochures in all the beauty parlors around my neighborhood. In any event, the plant liked to say "You could live without gas.." (Meaning, of course, that I didnt need to breathe. ) It would then proceed to try and grab me and prove its theory. YEs, evil and intelligent.
Poor Robert Deniro started to kiss me again and then he decided he needed to move around tot he other side of the bed. I tried to warn him about the plant, but it grabbed him.
Then my alarm went off. I wish I could have finished that one.

(no subject)

the sickness spreads.

angela is sneezing. Judy rubs her eyes and wishes she would have slept last night instead of coughing. I wash my hands every 30 minutes, especially after touching the community copy machine. The last thing I need to grapple with is a cold.

My strep throat feels 100% better. Two more days of antibiotics. I dispise taking pills of any sort. I think it follows the whole "defective psychosis" I have. There is something wrong with me if i need to take pills. I want to believe I am indestructible, perfect, vital, and popping pills underminds that egotistical confidence. I only hope that all the pills I will ever have to take will be for physical problems. Once the mind goes, I am afraid of what I will do. Insanity is as strong as sanity. My sanity has been lifting weights. I worry my insanity will be the dark passenger in the alleyway, waiting to pounce and kill.
Losing one's mind runs in my family. I hope to have many good and happy years left. Will I know when my time comes? Will my noodle soup look differently? Will humans with dogs seem more normal? Or will everyone just look on, or at me with pityful eyes?

(no subject)

With an hour and 20 minutes left to work, i am selectively bored. i contemplate all the other places i should be right now. Venice needs me! Paris awaits my return!

i chew on the straw in my coke. the fourth cher song of the afternoon fills my head and i gaze longingly at my cd player, napping so comfortably on the edge of my desk.

these afternoons when i have not one paper to file are such torture!