I have a friend that referred to the Superbowl as Stupidbowl and I really like that. :) It definitely sticks.
I had a really interesting dream last night. It was about me buying a gun. I was in the army with my ex, and, for some reason (still not sure why), I felt like I had to buy a gun. A semi-automatic gun. One that would kill with one bullet.
My ex was sick and needed surgery, I tried to stay with her but I was really obsessed with buying this gun. There was a nurse that went out into the field with me. I had the gun with me and I was wanting to shoot it. I told her I needed the gun for protection. She yelled at me and told me that NO ONE buys a gun for protection. She was definitely insinuating that I had some siniter motive for buying it.
My ex was getting sicker and they had an IV in her arm and I just knew I had to talk to her and tell her what the nurse said. She HAD to know that someone was questioning our motives for having this gun. I was very afraid that the army would find out and I was going to get into big trouble. SO, I hid the gun in a closet under some stuff.
I have no idea what the dream meant at all. Not even one clue.
Oh, well.
In a little bit I am going to be leaving for Wal-mart. My mom ordered two of those long sub sandwiches for the Stupidbowl party. I need to get some groceries and try once again to exchange the second season of Grey's Anatomy. Last time I tried to exchange it they didn't have it in stock. So, I am going to try again.
I watched this show last night on the Discovery Times channel about 'Terror's Children.' It was fascinating and revealing. I wondered if I could apply some of the things they talked about to my own self as I am one of 'Terror's' children. No question about that.
I have learned through reading A Bright Red Scream that there are actually 8 million of us in this country that self-injure in one way or another. See, I KNEW I wasn't alone. I feel that way most of the time but I cannot refute facts like that. Just an interesting statistic.
I have almost read 400 pages of Get Me Out of Here. It is not so different than the other books I have been reading. I cannot put this one down either.
On CNN last night they did a segment on family secrets. It was about these people that inhereted houses and storage units. Upon their attempts to go through the stuff found in them they located trunks and suitcases. When they opened them, they found mummified remains of tiny babies. Some with the umbilical cord still attached. Now, they are trying to figure out if the babies are related to them or what. Kind of a whodunit.
I thought it was very symbolic. Have we, as survivors of terror, been gently and carefully wrapped and placed in trunks, only to be found many years later, preserved and ready for examination? Only the internal organs are no longer there. There is only a shell remaining. Mummified and preserved. But, remaining nonetheless.
I am just thoughtfully thinking about this and wondering. Could it be possible that we preserved ourselves in order to survive the horrors of our lives? I am no where near an answer to that one. Right now, the inner child that suffered so much in me is still hidden away in the attic. Out of reach. Out of sight.
Just wondering.
I had a really interesting dream last night. It was about me buying a gun. I was in the army with my ex, and, for some reason (still not sure why), I felt like I had to buy a gun. A semi-automatic gun. One that would kill with one bullet.
My ex was sick and needed surgery, I tried to stay with her but I was really obsessed with buying this gun. There was a nurse that went out into the field with me. I had the gun with me and I was wanting to shoot it. I told her I needed the gun for protection. She yelled at me and told me that NO ONE buys a gun for protection. She was definitely insinuating that I had some siniter motive for buying it.
My ex was getting sicker and they had an IV in her arm and I just knew I had to talk to her and tell her what the nurse said. She HAD to know that someone was questioning our motives for having this gun. I was very afraid that the army would find out and I was going to get into big trouble. SO, I hid the gun in a closet under some stuff.
I have no idea what the dream meant at all. Not even one clue.
Oh, well.
In a little bit I am going to be leaving for Wal-mart. My mom ordered two of those long sub sandwiches for the Stupidbowl party. I need to get some groceries and try once again to exchange the second season of Grey's Anatomy. Last time I tried to exchange it they didn't have it in stock. So, I am going to try again.
I watched this show last night on the Discovery Times channel about 'Terror's Children.' It was fascinating and revealing. I wondered if I could apply some of the things they talked about to my own self as I am one of 'Terror's' children. No question about that.
I have learned through reading A Bright Red Scream that there are actually 8 million of us in this country that self-injure in one way or another. See, I KNEW I wasn't alone. I feel that way most of the time but I cannot refute facts like that. Just an interesting statistic.
I have almost read 400 pages of Get Me Out of Here. It is not so different than the other books I have been reading. I cannot put this one down either.
On CNN last night they did a segment on family secrets. It was about these people that inhereted houses and storage units. Upon their attempts to go through the stuff found in them they located trunks and suitcases. When they opened them, they found mummified remains of tiny babies. Some with the umbilical cord still attached. Now, they are trying to figure out if the babies are related to them or what. Kind of a whodunit.
I thought it was very symbolic. Have we, as survivors of terror, been gently and carefully wrapped and placed in trunks, only to be found many years later, preserved and ready for examination? Only the internal organs are no longer there. There is only a shell remaining. Mummified and preserved. But, remaining nonetheless.
I am just thoughtfully thinking about this and wondering. Could it be possible that we preserved ourselves in order to survive the horrors of our lives? I am no where near an answer to that one. Right now, the inner child that suffered so much in me is still hidden away in the attic. Out of reach. Out of sight.
Just wondering.
Furl It
Simpy
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