My Life, Full of Stress and Parties and Pain and Love

I'm fairly stressy lately.  Things are changing.  I am fine during the day, but then I wake up in the middle of the night and immediately terror and panic charge towards my poor sleepy brain.  Even if I fight them off and force my head to think of other things (if I were a crew member on Voyager, what would my job be, and would Chakotay and I end up dating?) enough panic gets in through the chinks to keep me awake for hours.  

Jaw pain doesn't help.  I'm going back to the dentist tomorrow to have my nightguard adjusted. My bite is uneven, hitting primarily on the right side, so I get more pressure there, and my teeth and jaws end up aching if I clench my teeth in my sleep, which apparently I do frequently.  I guess it's a sign of being too stressed out that I want to punch everyone who tells me to relax.

Greg and I did have a really nice long Memorial Day weekend, and I relaxed, at least a little.  We have friends who are moving to Georgia, and they had a going-away party on Sunday.  Despite occasional rain showers courtesy of Beryl, it was a fun party, a celebration of our friends.  Kids running around and splashing in the pool, adults making alcholic Butterbeer and grilling chicken wings and bacon-wrapped shrimp, lots of picture-taking and laughter and hugs.  We've known this couple for a long time.  Since before they were even a couple, much less married and with a son.  It was a nice party and a fun day.

Then on Monday, Memorial day, I open up the laptop and pull up Facebook and the first thing I see there on my screen is my father's grave.  My cousin in Virginia visited the family cemetery for Memorial day and she posted a photo for me.  Despite how unexpected and kind of shocking that was (I may have cried a few tears, just for a minute) it was a very sweet thing for her to do.  Mom said she'd like to see it, too, so I'll print it out and mail it to her. 

Yesterday a pretty cool thing happened:  We made the last payment on my car.  What a good feeling!  Plus, next month we will make the last payment on Greg's car.  No more car payments at all!  Boy, that'll make a huge difference in our monthly bills.  It's a relief.

So overall my stress is manageable.  Most of the time I'm fine, I am even hopeful about the future.  I would say 94% of the time I am looking forward to the next phase of my life, and 6% of the time I am terror-stricken and panicky. 

But I'm glad I have nice, thoughtful friends and family.

Gators!

We went to Gatorland again a couple of weeks ago, and I just love it there.  We went with great friends, the weather was beautiful, and we all had a great time.

It's actually a bird sanctuary, so I always take a lot of photos of pretty birds.

I always take this exact same picture when I go to Gatorland.  I just love the way the white bird's reflection looks in the muddy water.

The white birds -- what kind of bird is that, anyway? -- ride around on the back of the gators like they are huge, scaly surfboards.

I don't know what this is, but it's rusty and interesting.

Our friend's two year old daughter was having a "sad" day, and despite the beautiful scenery and the petting zoo and the train ride, she was positively melancholy.  Attempts to cheer her up were such a burden to her!  :)

Dreamy

Here's another photo that I took in 1985? 1986? and never bothered to print, since it's blurry and obviously a mistake.  But looking at it now, I think it looks dreamy, and I kind of like it.

This is my friend's sister, the one I found on Facebook a few months ago, but I still can't get her to answer me when I ask about where/how my friend is.  I also still haven't ruled out her being too unfamiliar with Facebook to know how to use it correctly, since it's clear she only logs in every couple of months or so.   Hopefully that's the problem, and not that there's bad news.  Recently another childhood friend was here in Orlando visiting, and she told me that the last time she saw our unfound friend was in 1990, and the friend appeared to be paranoid; she was acting strange and said that she was afraid she was being followed.

That's certainly odd, and combined with her absence, somewhat concerning.  I've been thinking about her today especially, it's her birthday.  I always remember when Flag Day is, because of her.  :)

Hopefully she is just technologically awkward and not online, but still completely fine.  Hopefully one day her sister will answer my messages on Facebook and then my friend and I will be back in touch.

New and Improved (?) Laminated List

I looked back over my Laminated List and realized that most (if not all) of those doods would probably not really like me all that much if we were ever to actually meet.

I am pretty positive that Penn Jillette, who seems to be a friendly but agressively outgoing person, would be irritated by my quietness. Dave Navarro, I think, would be turned off by my tattoo-less, piercing-less, implant-less, tan-less, stripper shoes-less self. I'm not too sure if I am ghetto enough for Lil Wayne (I would not have any syrup handy, that's for sure, and if he were to drink any in front of me, we might have a little problem). I suspect that Frank Mir is kind of assy in person, I doubt if we would have anything in common, and I imagine he would be impatient to get away from me. Who the hell knows about Prince, he is really too odd to call. Maybe he would love me, maybe he would hate me, maybe he would love me but act like he hated me.

You know how sometimes you see a person being interviewed on tv, and it just seems like like you'd have chemistry and similar interests, and you feel sure if you ever met you'd really hit it off? Hopefully other people feel that too and it isn't just me being celebrity-obsessed and stalkery.

1) Jeff Goldblum. I have always thought he was very sexy, with a sort of too-smart-for-his-own-good arrogance combined with an erotic smirkiness. I can see us sitting in a cafe by the beach, both of us wearing black pants and black turtleneck sweaters while everyone around us is in cutoffs and flip-flops. We would drink a bottle or two of pinot grigio while eating with our hands; ripping the shells off of shrimp and cracking open crab legs. We'd have long discussions about art, and whether the Futurist movement of 1911 could be accurately described as "punk" (yes, we would ultimately conclude).

2) Seth McFarlane. We would meet in a movie theatre showing The Lion In Winter when I, spotting him sitting alone a couple of rows away, drop my popcorn on him in the manner of Alabama in True Romance. We would share his smuggled bottle of Jack Daniels, he would whisper amusing asides to me in Peter Griffin's voice, and afterwards we'd go out for sushi.

3) Johnny Depp. I know, I know. But seriously, he's just so adorable. How could I NOT get alone with anyone that cute? If his personality is one-third as attractive as his face, he would have to love me.

This actually does make sense, in my head.

4) Keanu Reeves. He is so misunderstood. He has had many heartbreaks, and has such a dark intellect. We would meet in a used bookstore when our hands touched accidentally while reaching for the same copy of Hunter Thompson's Hell's Angels. We'd discuss gonzo journalism, existential philosophy, and I'd ride behind him on his motorcycle. I would understand him like no one ever has before, and we would communicate as two souls joined together on a higher level of consciousness.

5) Adam Carolla. Unlike Penn Gillette, conversationally Adam is just looking for an audience. I get along wonderfully with people like that, as long as I am even slightly interested in what they have to say. Adam would go off on a rant about how stupid traffic laws are, or how unfair building permit requirements are, or he would provide 1,472 hilarious examples from his Loveline days about how ridiculous people are in general. I would nod enthusiastically and interject just often enough to show agreement, but without actually speaking.

The problem with Adam Carolla is that I cannot be attracted to him. At all. Not even a little bit.

Here's the thing: I am an artistic person, and therefore very visual. Years ago, Adam was explaining how much body hair he has (everywhere). He said that, for him, cleaning up with toilet paper after he goes to the bathroom is like trying to get peanut butter out of a shag carpet with a cotton ball.

He is truly the master of the metaphor, but I will never get that image out of my head, and it's not exactly conducive to a sexy moment.

Maybe after a couple of martinis I could make out with him for a while.