Category Archives: My thoughts*

Dreams*

(via: http://blogs.abc.net.au/photos/uncategorized/2009/03/05/midnight_dreams.jpg)

I’ve been having very vivid dreams lately.

Dreams that feel so real I can still feel them and remember them long after I wake up. Dreams that are so vivid that I wake up feeling like I haven’t rested at all.

While I was home last week, I had a dream that left me feeling uneasy for an entire day. I dreamt that after arriving at work I realized that I had forgotten something absolutely necessary at home. I looked at an enormous clock on the wall and saw that I have five minutes before the bell, so I decided to try and make it. I ran to my car, jumped in and drove to my house.

I was rushing and rushing to make it back on time, but I heard the bell ringing as I circled the parking lot trying to find a spot. As I drove around the school I panicked as every space was taken. I ended up parking in a secretary’s spot which happened to be in the furthest corner of the lot.

(If you know anything about where school secretaries get to park, this is quite possibly the most bizarre aspect of the dream. haha)

I kept thinking, “If I can sneak in past the office no one will notice,” but every door I tried was locked. As the time passed my feeling of panic increased as I somehow knew the principal would come in and check my class that day and find my kids alone in the room. It was a beautiful, cold sunny day and I could see the sun reflecting on each locked door that I tried to open.

Finally, I found an open door on the far side of the building–again, the furthest point from where I needed to be.

I began running toward my class; up flights of stairs and down long hallways but I never seemed to get any closer. I passed the big clock again and I realized that it was useless. I had taken too long and I was caught–there was absolutely no point in my going to class as I was already going to be fired.

I made my way back to my car in seconds, and watched a group of kids exiting one of the locked doors.

…and then I woke up.

I can’t even begin to tell you how stressed I was when I woke up. My heart was racing and I felt almost like I had just had a panic attack in my sleep. It took me a few minutes to calm down, walk through the events of the dream and remind myself that I was on holidays.

The feeling I had when I woke up never quite left me though… it stayed with me for the whole day.

And then last night I dreamt that a friend and I were being chased through a dark wooded area. He was caught and I fell to the ground under a bush and tried to lay still. I could hear him yelling for help, but I knew that if I moved I would be caught too. Things around me started making noise and I couldn’t stay silent. My jacket brushed a stick and the sound was deafening. I shifted on the ground and I could hear the noise of the leaves crackle under me.

And then I was found.

We were moved to an old house with another girl, and while I couldn’t see the face of our captor I knew he was dangerous. He barked orders at the other girl, and asked her to get something from his car. I jumped up and volunteered to do it, to show him how useful I could be. I went outside and saw a car full of men coming down the driveway. I ran toward them, and saw that they were people I knew coming to save us. One pulled me into a hug while the others stormed the house to get the others… but I knew that it was already too late for my friend.

…and then I woke up.

Weird, no? Not as stressful as the other, but I still woke up feeling unsettled and anxious.

I don’t know what it all means–I’m obviously stressed about something.

Any fabulous dream interpreters out there?

 

The Results*

(via: http://images.lifescript.com/Media/Taxonomy/health/health_care_05.jpg)

When I got home from visiting with the fam, there was a message from my doctor waiting for me on my answering machine.

No details, just brief message asking me to call the office when I got a chance.

I was curious all weekend, even though I knew the message would most likely be something less than good.

I mean, really now–how often do doctors call you after an appointment just to tell you how awesome and amazingly healthy you are?

When I finally got a hold of her today, I learned that the results from my blood work were in. She was a bit concerned as I have low iron and low liver enzymes, so after giving me a list of foods I have to work into my diet more frequently, she asked me to start taking an iron supplement.

Let me tell you a little secret: I am terrified of taking pills. More specifically, I am terrified of choking while taking pills. I can take tiny little ones, but I even break up my Tylenol on the rare occasions that I take it.

However, I decided to be a grown-up and went tonight to get the supplement she suggested. I have to take it daily before I go to sleep, and thankfully it’s not enormous. I think I’ll just have to have the Hubster hold my hand and coach me through taking it.

(Does anyone have any tricks for making this easier?)

Besides taking the new supplement and beginning an iron-rich high fibre diet, she’d like me to come back in and do some more tests in a few weeks.

*sigh*

I’m grateful that she’s being so thorough–I really haven’t had a real check-up in a long time–but I was really kind of sort of hoping that I could stick to my one visit per year schedule. Apparently my body has had a rough year… first the glaucoma scare, and now all this business.

Bah humbug. Getting old sucks.

 

I’m Right* (I think)

(Courtesy of: http://myscenario.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/rightleft2.jpg)

When the nurse came in to give me my shot yesterday, she asked me if I was right or left handed, so that she wouldn’t “poke” me in my dominant arm. I replied that I was a righty without thinking much about it, so she gave me the needle in my left arm. Shortly after when I was taken to the lab to get blood work done, without thinking, I offered the same arm.

But as I got into my car afterward and started the drive home, my driving arm was sore and quite heavy. I looked down and realized that I drive with my left hand. I use my right to turn corners and whatnot, but I almost always drive just with my left hand.

The Hubster and I have had this discussion before, as he can’t quite figure out how I do things. For example…

I write with my right hand.

…but I’m left handed in hockey.

I hold a baseball bat to my left.

…but I catch with my right.

I eat with my right hand.

…but I drive with my left.

I hold my purse in my left hand, or wear it on my left arm.

…and I use both hands to apply my make-up, depending on what I’m putting on.

I know that I’m “right handed”, but when I think about it, I’m also pretty comfortable using my left for a lot of things that I do on a daily basis. The Hubster is a righty for almost everything, and has been surprised on more than one occasion when I go to use my left hand / side for something he expects me to do with my right.

Seriously–have you ever thought about it? Think about the small tasks you do on a daily basis… are you complete righty or lefty? Or are you somewhere in the middle?

Perspective*

(Courtesy of: http://luckyjane.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/believe2.jpg)

I slept in this morning.

I awoke to see the sun streaming through our window.

I realized that I didn’t have to fly out of bed and get ready for work.

I found an email from my professor, surprising us with a week off from my course.

…and then I came here, and saw the many messages left by all of you.

Thank you. I wish I had words that could adequately describe how much I appreciated everything you each wrote, but I don’t know that I have the right words to express my gratitude. In the words of the most lovely Tulip, it made me want to hug my computer and each of you.

When I decided to begin writing again at the end of December, I wanted to change the way that I had been writing in here. I wanted to be honest. I wanted to be record the good and the bad, and that’s what last night’s post was. It was me reflecting on how I felt in that moment.

I know in my heart that there is a job out there for me somewhere, someday. I know I shouldn’t take that interview experience personally, but I am so bad with rejection. Not that anyone should be “good” at it per say, but oh… I am just bad. I feel things deeply, and I need time to process.

With regards to my writing, I’m not sure that I expressed myself properly last night. My goal really isn’t to be the most popular blogger in the world, but I know that with readership numbers comes opportunity. I look at Alana at The Good Girl Gone Blog and I want that. She has all these amazing opportunities to review products and SHOES! And Rachael at The Southified Masshole– she was offered an opportunity to compete in a contest to be a Twitter Jockey last year. I just… I don’t know. I want that. haha

…but I don’t know how to get there.

But, I know I will. Eventually. (I hope.)

In the meantime, thank you. Thank you for being here to help me gain some perspective–it may take time, but I’ll achieve my goals.

Thank you for believing in me.

 

I Cried at a Rob Zombie Concert*

(Courtesy of: http://rzr.online.fr/docs/zombie/gfx/Rob_Zombie-2006-Educated_Horses.jpg)

I’m about to tell you a story that I’ve only ever told two people.

It’s a little bit embarrassing.

(Okay, a lot bit embarrassing.)

But because I love you dearly, I’ve decided it’s time to come clean and tell you the truth:

I went to a Rob Zombie Concert… and I cried.

I’m not talking tears of overwhelming joy at being able to see Rob Zombie—I’m no groupie—I’m talking full on panic attack, hysterical tears… at a Rob Zombie concert.

Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

To begin with, it probably sounds strange that I, a shoe-loving, Mormon high school English teacher would even end up with Rob Zombie tickets. When I announced that I was going to the concert on Facebook, most of my friends laughed and didn’t believe me. The ones that did believe me could barely contain their shock.

Confession: I love Rob Zombie. I know he’s not the most uplifting character, but I love the music and just try and avoid his songs that are especially dark.

It started when I was in grade 7. A couple of times a week we had these “elective” periods where we would rotate through a variety of classes like shop, music and Legos. (Seriously.) In the Lego class, where we had to follow instructions and build complex structures, my teacher loved having music on in the background.

And one day he played Dragula by Rob Zombie. I fell in love with it immediately.

Flash forward 10 years, and the Hubster discovers that I have not only heard of Rob Zombie, but actually sort of like his music. One thing led to another, and he saw that he was coming to Toronto and bought three tickets: one for him, his friend, and me.

In the days leading up to the concert, I was really excited. We hadn’t been to a concert in years, and I have always loved going to them. His friend drove in from out of town, and off we went.

The concert was being held at a venue I hadn’t ever heard of before. I’ve really only ever attended concerts at the Air Canada Centre, which has lovely rows and seats that scale up so that regardless of where you are, you can see the stage.

(Sometimes the people on it are just reeeeeeeeeeally tiny.)

We punched the address into our GPS, and as we got closer I felt like we were entering the setting for the perfect horror film: the hall was down by the docks, the streets were poorly lit, and it was in a heavily industrial neighbourhood. It was really creepy, but I was so excited to go that I tried not to dwell on it.

We were really early, so we bundled up and got in line.

As I watched the line-up lengthen, I was really surprised by the… uhm,  variety of people I saw there. I honestly expected to look a little out of place, but mingled in with the fishnets and black make-up were a lot of other ordinary people in jeans and t-shirts.

Once the doors opened, we slowly made our way inside and I noticed the first problem…

There were no seats.

I was staring at a giant, empty, one floored room with a stage at one end, a bar to the side and a “store” or sorts at the back. I quietly nudged the Hubster:

Me: “Umm… where are the seats?”

Him: “…there aren’t any.”

His friend: “Yup! Just lots of room for dancing!!”

I was not happy about the arrangement, but luckily I had worn semi-comfortable shoes and standing for several hours wouldn’t be a huge issue.

…except for the fact that I was a little 5’5” girl in a sea of enormous guys and girls in tall boots. We started off way in the back, but as the first opening band started to play I realized that I couldn’t see a thing. The Hubster had told me that the last Rob Zombie concert he went to was almost more of a show than just a concert—complete with a giant dancing robot—so I wanted to make sure that I could at least see the stage.

So, I did what any inexperienced Rob Zombie concert go-er would do: I started edging forward. The Hubster warned me against getting too close, but I was so determined to see that I pushed forward. At that point the crowd was just a sea of bopping heads, so I thought, “what the big deal?”

As the second opening band took the stage the whole room surged forward and it was harder to get through. When we stopped moving I was only a few rows from the front, and while it was crowded, the masses were still bopping in place and it wasn’t anything terrible.

It was actually kind of exciting being in the middle of an enormous throng of people like that. Crowded, but exciting.

…and then, Rob Zombie took the stage.

It was like the sea of bopping zombies (ha) came alive when their leader took the stage.

The audience exploded. The bopping became frenzied dancing and arms and elbows began flying through the air. The tiny bubble of personal space I had vanished as people surged forward toward the stage. I felt myself being pushed forward in the movement and I frantically tried to hang on to the Hubster, who began pulling me in the opposite direction. I felt panic rising in my throat as the energy in the crowd intensified.

After several minutes of pushing we made our way sideways to the bar, which had a little more space, but a lot more drunk people. I looked around in despair, and clung to the Hubster as we tried to find a pathway to the back of the room, where the mood was a little calmer. Every time we took a step, we were pushed two steps back and… I panicked.

I cried.

It started as a few tears, but as we started trying to push out to the back I was a giant, hot mess. When we finally stopped and it hit me that I was out of the crowd I started sobbing so hard that my whole body shook. Tears, running make-up, hiccups, the whole bit.

In the middle of a Rob Zombie concert.

The Hubster pulled me aside to a quiet(er) corner in the back of the room and held me in a bear hug while I calmed down, ready to take me home as soon as I said the word. But despite my body’s reaction to the experience, I really did want to stay and see the show. I spent the rest of the concert hanging out with the old folks at the back of the room. Although we could barely see the stage from where we ended up, we still heard everything and Rob Zombie ended up coming out and doing a tour of the crowd and passed by just 10ft from where we stood.

By the time the concert ended, I had regained some of my enthusiasm (and dignity), though I made sure that we were in the first wave of people to leave as I didn’t want to get caught in another rush.

We eventually found the Hubster’s friend, whom we had accidentally left behind in the crowd when I began my panicked exit to safety. Though he was bewildered by our sudden disappearance, he rolled with the situation and ended up making some friends in the rowdy crowd.

So, though this particular concert wasn’t my favourite, I still enjoy his music and would be open to seeing him live again.

…but only if there are seats… and an old people section.

(and kleenex.)

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