Welcome comrades

I had a dream about an evil magical younger sister who hid my baggage after traveling on a ship to a port to catch a flying bus. The bus turned out to be an old clunky red chevy van (the red neck kind) and the bus driver was a some what cranky old woman. I was not particularly confident in the vehicle. I was taking it to Florida, it was similar to the china town bus, at least that's what I thought it would be. Me and my evil sister had to push the bus down the port while the bus driver walked in front, the right side of the bus was off the ledge hanging over the water because the van was too big for the port. We had to push it out over the water where it hovered and we loaded up. That's when I realized I didn't have my bag. I was sitting in the back of the van feeling very nervous about a flying bus and I realized I hadn't brought my bag. It was a white and black striped cloth that was poofy and shaped like a duffel bag, but not quite as big. So I went back to the ship, but as I came close I saw that the ship wasn't docked but rather moving around in port and I was afraid they were leaving on their next journey, but as I observed the behavior on deck I realized they were just running drills. The young captain had his sword drawn and another sailor was manning a button that activated three rows of poles that swooped at him, so he was sword fighting poles that were on a lever with a bungee cord that swung them up and down. At this point I was flying and watching from above and waiting for a moment when the poles weren't swinging up and down so I could come and look for my bag. When the young captain realized I was there for my bag he was some what defensive, expostulating that they had not lost my bag. I reassured him that I didn't believe they had. He said he would look for me but I told him I would do it myself and I began to go through all these drawers on the side of the ship that were stuffed with attractive printed fabrics. Then he mentioned his evil magical sister who did things like steal bags. In frustration I realized she had, indeed, stolen by bag and as I left I said "yes, my little sister is never subtle" (or something along those lines) at which point I gasped and covered my mouth and broke into intense weeping because I had been bound by life long secrecy from speaking of my sisterhood, the captain didn't know that I was his sister. He rushed to me and clasped me around my waist in a hug and said something to the effect of "you are my sister!"

Not one of my more realistic dreams which I've been having lately. Anyway, I've started working on a childrens book that is pretty much about my dad and how he will eat almost anything. In the book he will, in fact, eat anything. It's been fun; it's still in the thumbnail stage where I'm roughing out ideas and figuring out different pictures. I've got seven or eight pictures so far (including the cover) but I feel more is needed to fill out the story... Maybe not, maybe just a couple more will do. I keep thinking about how the possum story I'm working on is really quite short, there are maybe ten or eleven pictures which amounts more to a JE book than a JP. I'll explain because that is library code that helps me distinguish different age group and style reading materials. JE is usually kindergarten to second grade reading in a much smaller format designed to help children learn to read (and usually has some obscure moral) and JP books really range from baby to, not sure... but they are primarily picture books with simple writing, more pictures to less words. JP lend themselves to the artist and JE to the writer. American childrens books, in general, tend to have some moral. Not that that's a problem, but it comes up like a burden of responsibility that every book made for children must, in some way, encourage them to be a better person and a responsible citizen. Eek, it's like subtle communism. Social training masked in a friendly voice (with adorable animal characters). Comrade Billy be nice to comrade sally and always eat your peas.

I had a brain damaged man in a wheel chair refer to me as a cute white bitch yesterday. That was a shocker. I was walking a female dog at the time. He lives in my neighborhood and "walks" around the circle all the time. My neighborhood is a big circle. I used to avoid him because his inappropriate comments unnerved me but yesterday, even though it freaked me out, he didn't really bother me. I guess the fact that he is utterly harmless in more than one way really set in and I didn't feel threatened by him. If I knew more about brain damage these experiences would probably be more illuminated. Obviously a part of the brain that recognizes and cares about what is appropriate is damaged. He doesn't recognize an inhibition from expressing his raunchy thoughts. Want to know what men really think with out the censorship? Spend time around one with brain damage, it's disturbing.

I'm going to start reading the harry potter books. Crazy thing is the first book dates back to when I was eighteen. I didn't know until around 2000 something that these books even existed. Kind of weird. I think it was Janet Witherspoon that made me fully aware of the Harry Potter books. I remember how much she loved them. I'm checking the first book out today, along with a book on the GRE. My free month sans work will be one of busting ass studying and, well, preparing for a life of dedicated independence. The problem is that it's not the sort of thing you can take time off from... Once I start, well, I'm kind of committed. (I know there's always a place for me at home...)

I want to eat. Hopefully my uncle ken and julia and jack will still be in town when I get off. I like having them around, even if it does mean sleeping on a bed that makes my neck ache. Yes, I do like sleeping in the living room under the large bay window, but that damn couch bed is uncomfortable. I slept on it backwards last night, which did help, but it meant my feet were elevated slightly above my head all night and I kept waking up periodically with a stuffed nose. Weird.

I've been taking care of a stressed out dog for close to a week now. The circumstances have been sporadic and I think she recognizes the tension and the unpredictable schedule is negatively impacting her. I feel bad, I've had family in town and I've been more concerned about my own mopey needs and desires that I really haven't been there for her much. I feed her and walk her so her physical needs are met, but not those demanding emotional ones...

I found the most comfortable hoody yesterday. So I'm wearing it with a blue dress and they are definitely clashing. I don't care, the comfort is totally worth it. I think I have an obsession with hoodies. As much so as with shoes even...