Behold my contribution to our first office installment of Friday Funk:
Get your Friday (Funky) Groove on!
Friday, June 28, 2013
Friday Groove
One of my co-workers is borrowing a bit from his home-town radio station where every Friday the station receptionist hosts a segment called Friday Funk, highlighting a different 70s funk song each week. He's asked a handful of us if we'd be interested in playing along, and while my repotire of 70s funk is far from extensive I was certainly game to participate, especially since alphabetically I got to go first so I wouldn't have to worry about finding something new if my first pick was already taken.
Behold my contribution to our first office installment of Friday Funk:
Get your Friday (Funky) Groove on!
Behold my contribution to our first office installment of Friday Funk:
Get your Friday (Funky) Groove on!
Friday, May 3, 2013
Friday Groove
What? Two Friday Grooves in a row?! Shocking!!! To celebrate today is a double groove kind of day to share two of my current favorites.
I never expected I'd be enjoying Macklemore as much as I am but dude really owns some word action. I'm loving this beat and it's been my pick me up this week, inspiring me greatly when I'm feeling defeated. Also, who can argue with wolves, men riding camels, kilt-wearing brass players, pirate ship parties and more?
It is also as good a time as any to admit it: I like country music. I've only just started watching Nashville out of curiosity and am not only enjoying it, I'm LOVING the music, this one in particular. It's a great calm-down counter after breaking through the roof.
I never expected I'd be enjoying Macklemore as much as I am but dude really owns some word action. I'm loving this beat and it's been my pick me up this week, inspiring me greatly when I'm feeling defeated. Also, who can argue with wolves, men riding camels, kilt-wearing brass players, pirate ship parties and more?
It is also as good a time as any to admit it: I like country music. I've only just started watching Nashville out of curiosity and am not only enjoying it, I'm LOVING the music, this one in particular. It's a great calm-down counter after breaking through the roof.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Realistic Expectations
I am one of those people that sometimes has dreams that are a touch on the vivid/detail-oriented side. Oh, here, allow me to hand back the eyeballs that rolled clean out of the heads of those of you who know my dreaming tendencies at that slight understatement. If it were possible to smell colors in dreamland I'd win the gold medal.
A couple of weeks ago I woke with a striking memory of my dream. This is not uncommon for me, I can remember dreams I had in grade school, but more often than not I lay in bed thinking about the dream with absolutely no earthly idea what was going on in my subconscious to have conjured the often epic levels of crazy. This one, however, I understood completely and spent the rest of my day, and several days since, analyzing.
It started with some kind of shenannigans about stepping in to chaperone a youth trip to an amusement park. I was happy to go, of course, but the last minute nature of the request made me feel unprepared and confused. I became more confused when I learned that before we could leave we needed to wait until the end of a dance workshop I was urged to attend. I found myself in a giant ballroom packed with women in various work out and dance attire and hip scarves. About half of the women were sitting at tables placed around the back of the room while the other half were up in the front participating in a beginner belly dance work shop. I found myself with that group, feeling like I was quite easily understanding and performing the simple, basic movements. Soon it was time for the groups to switch and I quickly noticed the second group was for more advanced students, working on combinations and routine embellishments. I felt a bit confused and oddly hurt, thinking I must have been accidentally put in the wrong group. I noticed some friends that were in the second group, but none of them spoke up for me to join them. I moved to the very back of the room where I could watch the lesson going on and try it quietly. I got consumed with the movements and found myself practicing a spinning skill I had discovered. I did it over and over, pushing myself to keep the spin for longer and longer, trying to perfect the foundation and control. Suddenly the instructor of the workshop noticed me and stopped her class, bringing everyone's attention to me in my quiet corner. She came to stand in front of me and lectured the entire room about how their dancing should never be about a one-trick pony, how they needed to learn variety and emotion to become excellent dancers. I was mortified at being unfairly chastised and tried to tell her I could do what she was teaching, even following the moves she was demonstrating as she used me to prove some point, but she wouldn't see me, and no one spoke up...
The little title under my profile for this blog is "Jill of all Trades", which is sort of accurate, but not exactly. To me calling someone a Jack of all trades is implying they are proficient or experts at a number of skills. I am not much of an expert on anything, though I my range of skills, interests, and hobbies is vast and varied. Capoeira, swing dancing, belly dancing, photography, gaming, knitting, crafting, scuba diving, ren fair-ing, first aiding, garden/landscaping, etc... I love all of the hobbies I participate in and can't imagine having to give any of them up. The problem is in many ways they all suffer as a result. To completely excel at a task I think you have to be completely committed, give time and dedication to honing a specific set of skills. I don't have to the time, energy or will to sacrifice other things I love to pursue just one, and so in that regard I'll never perfect any of them.
I used to feel more frustration about this than I do now. Getting older, that "maturity" business, helps keep things in perspective and understand the hows and whys of life. Obviously if you don't focus on perfecting something, you won't perfect it. I've come to that place of understanding and I'm thankful for it, though I still have my moments of struggle.
In addition to not having the refined physical skill to excel in most of these activities, the social interactions that are associated with them also suffer. It's harder to be as close to a group of friends that are dedicated to one activity when you're constantly flitting from one to another. I think that is the most difficult for me to handle. I'm built the way I'm built and too far gone to come around to some star-quality physicality for any of these activities, but feeling like I'm on the outside of all the social groups I frequent still hurts, and I fear always will. I'm present enough to join in the festivities but not enough to notice when I'm missing. Glad to be a part of the activities I can be, but disheartened when I miss out on the opportunity to join more, even if I can't make it all the time. Sad at discovering a group of friends has gone out to have a good time and I missed getting an invitation.
Now, this is NOT a pity party. Several years ago it may very well have been, but today I can write these feelings from a much stronger, more level headed and understanding place. It's been an incredible exercise to break myself down, look at all the places I excel and fail and try to think of ways to change the things I don't like. One of those is my horrible ability to reach out to those I love. Between a phone-centric day job, an ever rotating list of things that keep my busier than a one-armed paper hanger and that 50% Introvert part of me that needs alone time to recharge I have a hard time doing my part to work against feeling left out. I realize that as my flaw and know that it is a fairly engrained part of me that will possibly always be difficult for me to try to overcome, but I'll never not want to try.
The physical perfection I will never have, but the efforts to build and support my structure of friends and loved ones, to be more involved and less lazy, I will always strive to maintain and improve. I'm thankful for the personal growth I've had to be able to be in this place and glad for a dream that truly opened my eyes.
A couple of weeks ago I woke with a striking memory of my dream. This is not uncommon for me, I can remember dreams I had in grade school, but more often than not I lay in bed thinking about the dream with absolutely no earthly idea what was going on in my subconscious to have conjured the often epic levels of crazy. This one, however, I understood completely and spent the rest of my day, and several days since, analyzing.
It started with some kind of shenannigans about stepping in to chaperone a youth trip to an amusement park. I was happy to go, of course, but the last minute nature of the request made me feel unprepared and confused. I became more confused when I learned that before we could leave we needed to wait until the end of a dance workshop I was urged to attend. I found myself in a giant ballroom packed with women in various work out and dance attire and hip scarves. About half of the women were sitting at tables placed around the back of the room while the other half were up in the front participating in a beginner belly dance work shop. I found myself with that group, feeling like I was quite easily understanding and performing the simple, basic movements. Soon it was time for the groups to switch and I quickly noticed the second group was for more advanced students, working on combinations and routine embellishments. I felt a bit confused and oddly hurt, thinking I must have been accidentally put in the wrong group. I noticed some friends that were in the second group, but none of them spoke up for me to join them. I moved to the very back of the room where I could watch the lesson going on and try it quietly. I got consumed with the movements and found myself practicing a spinning skill I had discovered. I did it over and over, pushing myself to keep the spin for longer and longer, trying to perfect the foundation and control. Suddenly the instructor of the workshop noticed me and stopped her class, bringing everyone's attention to me in my quiet corner. She came to stand in front of me and lectured the entire room about how their dancing should never be about a one-trick pony, how they needed to learn variety and emotion to become excellent dancers. I was mortified at being unfairly chastised and tried to tell her I could do what she was teaching, even following the moves she was demonstrating as she used me to prove some point, but she wouldn't see me, and no one spoke up...
The little title under my profile for this blog is "Jill of all Trades", which is sort of accurate, but not exactly. To me calling someone a Jack of all trades is implying they are proficient or experts at a number of skills. I am not much of an expert on anything, though I my range of skills, interests, and hobbies is vast and varied. Capoeira, swing dancing, belly dancing, photography, gaming, knitting, crafting, scuba diving, ren fair-ing, first aiding, garden/landscaping, etc... I love all of the hobbies I participate in and can't imagine having to give any of them up. The problem is in many ways they all suffer as a result. To completely excel at a task I think you have to be completely committed, give time and dedication to honing a specific set of skills. I don't have to the time, energy or will to sacrifice other things I love to pursue just one, and so in that regard I'll never perfect any of them.
I used to feel more frustration about this than I do now. Getting older, that "maturity" business, helps keep things in perspective and understand the hows and whys of life. Obviously if you don't focus on perfecting something, you won't perfect it. I've come to that place of understanding and I'm thankful for it, though I still have my moments of struggle.
In addition to not having the refined physical skill to excel in most of these activities, the social interactions that are associated with them also suffer. It's harder to be as close to a group of friends that are dedicated to one activity when you're constantly flitting from one to another. I think that is the most difficult for me to handle. I'm built the way I'm built and too far gone to come around to some star-quality physicality for any of these activities, but feeling like I'm on the outside of all the social groups I frequent still hurts, and I fear always will. I'm present enough to join in the festivities but not enough to notice when I'm missing. Glad to be a part of the activities I can be, but disheartened when I miss out on the opportunity to join more, even if I can't make it all the time. Sad at discovering a group of friends has gone out to have a good time and I missed getting an invitation.
Now, this is NOT a pity party. Several years ago it may very well have been, but today I can write these feelings from a much stronger, more level headed and understanding place. It's been an incredible exercise to break myself down, look at all the places I excel and fail and try to think of ways to change the things I don't like. One of those is my horrible ability to reach out to those I love. Between a phone-centric day job, an ever rotating list of things that keep my busier than a one-armed paper hanger and that 50% Introvert part of me that needs alone time to recharge I have a hard time doing my part to work against feeling left out. I realize that as my flaw and know that it is a fairly engrained part of me that will possibly always be difficult for me to try to overcome, but I'll never not want to try.
The physical perfection I will never have, but the efforts to build and support my structure of friends and loved ones, to be more involved and less lazy, I will always strive to maintain and improve. I'm thankful for the personal growth I've had to be able to be in this place and glad for a dream that truly opened my eyes.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Liebster Award
I just noticed this link in a comment to my last blog here and while I don't know anything about it except what I read on the nominator Trish's blog (This Girl's Messy Head), I thought it would be a fun exercise and wave back of thanks. Sorry, Trish, TOTALLY stealing your formatting b/c I'm lazy like that. ;)
Here is a little rundown in case you're wondering what receiving the Liebster Award entails:
- Thank the blogger who presented you with the Liebster Award, and link back to his or her blog.
- Answer the 11 questions from the nominator; list 11 random facts about yourself, and create 11 questions for your nominees.
- Present the Liebster Award to 11 bloggers, who have blogs with 200 followers or less, whom you feel deserve to be noticed. Leave a comment on the blogs letting the owners know they have been chosen. (No tag backs.)
- Upload the Liebster Award image to your blog. Here are my answers for Trish's 11 questions:1. What motivated you to start a blog? The blog started as a place for me to log all the crazy dreams and sleep walking stories I've gathered through the years. I've yet to spend much time posting about them yet, I got distracted by other ramblings.2. Where would you go if you could travel anywhere for a week? Ireland, Scotland, Australia, Bora Bora, Germany... I have a fairly long wish list.3. What is your favorite time of day and why? Bed time because it's often the most peaceful part of my day, curled up in bed with a book, my hubby and often times any number of our 4 fur children. That much love and contentment in one place is pretty wonderful.4. Do you have pets? If so, what kind? I do! I've even dedicated an entire post to our babies.5. Do you regularly clean under your couch or do you only clean it when you realize how disgusting it is underneath? Oh, goodness... Every so often it gets moved and I am horrified by the creatures that are trying to spawn underneath it, and every time I SWEAR I will clean under it more often but I never seem to remember.6. What is your least favorite thing about getting older? Aches, pains, pops, cracks; basically my body putting up more of a fight (or less, depending on how you look at it).7. What is your most favorite thing about getting older? Confidence, for sure.8. What is your favorite expletive to use? If you don't curse, what is your favorite alternate word to use in place of an expletive? I try to maintain clean language, but toss in a 'shiz' or 'frack' when 'golly gee' just doesn't cut it.9. What is your favorite charity and why? I don't think I have one in particular, there are so many great causes. Certainly anything that benefits animals, children or abused women who need a chance to get their feet back on solid ground are top contenders.10. What is the best advice you've ever been given? Any that comes with a finishing line of, "but I'll love and support you, whatever your decision is".11. What is the worst advice you've ever been given? Any that is contrary to who I am and what I wish to accomplish: in other words advice given by someone who doesn't know me at all.Here are the 11 bloggers I've nominated for the Liebster Award:
8. The Manny9. The One Lisa10. Trinity Ane11. Obviously I need to read more blogs...
Here are my 11 questions for the nominees:1. If you won the lottery, what would you do with the winnings?2. Describe your ultimate dream home.3. Do you garden, if so what do you plant?4. If you could pick any person in the world to have dinner with, who would it be?5. You've won a $100,000 shopping spree at the store of your choice. Where is it going to be?6. What is your favorite holiday and why?7. What are your best traits?8. Which traits would you most like to improve?9. What would your ideal job be?10. Favorite book or movie?11. What is your favorite way to unwind and relax?
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Meeting a Marine
*bushes off the layer of dust*
First, my lack of posting has had far less to do with desire than it has to do with laziness and lack of any of my half-formed writing ideas coming together the way I want them to. I explained to my mom the other day why I chose the name Rambling Inner Monologue for this blog; it's a very true description of the way my brain functions. Let's say you have a confrontation with someone and hours later you are replaying the whole thing, word for word, then editing it to have gone exactly the way you wanted, as if scripted to perfection. I feel like I'm always doing that for a dozen situations every day, like I'm my own sitcom voice over, and it has transferred into how I write. As I think about these things and create elaborate dialogues and situations in my mind some will start to solidify and a sentence or several will stick firmly in my head. I'll use those sentences to build an entire post around, thus sharing my mind with you.
See what I mean about rambling? On to today's show...
Thanks to a long chain of fateful events that will, one day, get their own post, I had the opportunity to travel to upstate New York to be an extra in a low budget video game parody movie. I'd only met a few of the people involved in the project but many reputations proceeded the members and friends of X-Strike Studios, one of the most predominant, the reputation of one Matthew Mahoney.
The first two things I ever learned about Mahoney were that he was a marine and he was awesome. Many a story I heard revolved around some crazy, off the wall antics and a friendly-but-don't-mess-with-him attitude. It was easy to see everyone loved him but as I was already nervous and intimidated to be meeting such a large gaggle of people, his stories came across to me as much more concerning than they should have been.
Mahoney showed up late to our long-weekend video shoot party. I'd already met a LOT of people, many whom, to me, had a level of celebrity status, was working hard to remember everyone's name and start relaxing. Mahoney arrived and I watched him from a calculated distance, fascinated to put a face to the already infamous name. He seemed nice enough, but definitely tough, to me further evident when he spent the night (read: passed out) in a lawn chair on the driveway. I don't think of myself as a girlie girl who can't handle less than comfortable arrangements, but anyone who was happy and able to sleep wherever they landed when there was an option of couch crashing indoors was definitely someone I wasn't inclined to mess with.
Early the next morning we started with make up for the just under a dozen extras who needed to become zombies for the day's shoot. While the rest of us were waiting our turn, Mahoney, in his BDUs, military-issued combat boots and vest and black Under Armor, gave us mini stunt lessons on how to properly break-fall as we'd be needing to do a fair bit of it, mostly at his hands. I tried, and failed, to not feel incredibly nervous.
We filled several cars and hoofed it out to an abandoned Boy Scout camp in the woods, stopping to grab one or two plastic covered camp mattresses out of a cabin to use as cushioning, a kind gesture to the newly trained, inexperienced zombie stunt team. On the schedule for the day was an intense zombie attack scene where Mahoney's character, I think more similar to the man playing him than not, would stay behind to try to fend off the attack and buy his companions time to escape. This meant Mahoney would be taking down roughly six zombie extras in very loosely choreographed succession.
The plan was to shoot one attack at a time. The first take we would see how it went when Mahoney attacked the first zombie in the pre-determined method. I stood behind the camera in my assigned place in line as zombie number four, anxiously waiting my turn. Action was called and Mahoney's game face came on full force. He took out the first zombie and without a moment's hesitation grabbed the second zombie, much to everyone's surprise. The scene worked out alright as the second zombie played along incredibly well, especially considering they weren't expecting to be part of the first take. Take two was to try it again, this time with the first and second zombie only. Again action was called and Mahoney nearly growled as he took out zombie number one, number two... and grabbed number three, throwing him to the ground! This scene will forever be etched in my memory as I stood behind zombie number three, who was in a cast having recently broken his arm, and watched in shock as Mahoney grabbed him and threw him unexpectedly and unprepared to the ground.
My entire body shook. Being the next in line was scary enough when your Marine-trained assailant is getting all excited and jumping the gun on the take downs, worse when you realized the way you were scripted to be taken out was by means of broken neck. Now, there was never any real pressure or application of force in the acting of the neck breaking, but Mahoney's very recent history showed he seemed to be acting more on instinct than careful awareness and I was a tad bit worried.
The third take was intentional with all three zombies and I took a large, deliberate step back from the scene. Luckily Mahoney remembered to stop at three and they got the shot they wanted. Then my take came and for the first time I squarely faced Mahoney, one on one, eye to eye. I stared at him, trying to will him with my eyes to not accidentally end me, my jaw set in determination to make sure it was a good shot, no matter how scared I felt. I worried it would be rough and painful but was surprised by how gentle he was. He reached for my head but most of the whipping action came from me and I would fall onto the flimsy camp mat then immediately roll away as a moment later Mahoney would come crashing down to the exact same spot with 3 more zombies on top of him. We did it several times. My body protested but I survived.
I've had the pleasure of spending time with Mahoney several times since that weekend. Once we ended up in the basement of the Alexandria Hilton, completely by accident, and for me it was a far more entertaining experience than it would have if I'd shared it with anyone else. Watching him immediately flip into action mode and sneak down the hall to explore while I laughed and fought the urge to run away will forever be one of my favorite Mahoney Moments.
I'm privileged to call him a friend. He is a joy to spend time with, hysterical and fun, certainly adventurous. My reaction to him now is to give him a giant hug then sit somewhere I can hang on his every spectacular story-telling word. I'm always thrilled to hear about his beautiful wife and children and find comfort knowing he supports my similar endeavors. My initial fear of him now seems absurd but it helped defined the meeting of a person I am blessed to know and will never forget.
First, my lack of posting has had far less to do with desire than it has to do with laziness and lack of any of my half-formed writing ideas coming together the way I want them to. I explained to my mom the other day why I chose the name Rambling Inner Monologue for this blog; it's a very true description of the way my brain functions. Let's say you have a confrontation with someone and hours later you are replaying the whole thing, word for word, then editing it to have gone exactly the way you wanted, as if scripted to perfection. I feel like I'm always doing that for a dozen situations every day, like I'm my own sitcom voice over, and it has transferred into how I write. As I think about these things and create elaborate dialogues and situations in my mind some will start to solidify and a sentence or several will stick firmly in my head. I'll use those sentences to build an entire post around, thus sharing my mind with you.
See what I mean about rambling? On to today's show...
Thanks to a long chain of fateful events that will, one day, get their own post, I had the opportunity to travel to upstate New York to be an extra in a low budget video game parody movie. I'd only met a few of the people involved in the project but many reputations proceeded the members and friends of X-Strike Studios, one of the most predominant, the reputation of one Matthew Mahoney.
The first two things I ever learned about Mahoney were that he was a marine and he was awesome. Many a story I heard revolved around some crazy, off the wall antics and a friendly-but-don't-mess-with-him attitude. It was easy to see everyone loved him but as I was already nervous and intimidated to be meeting such a large gaggle of people, his stories came across to me as much more concerning than they should have been.
Mahoney showed up late to our long-weekend video shoot party. I'd already met a LOT of people, many whom, to me, had a level of celebrity status, was working hard to remember everyone's name and start relaxing. Mahoney arrived and I watched him from a calculated distance, fascinated to put a face to the already infamous name. He seemed nice enough, but definitely tough, to me further evident when he spent the night (read: passed out) in a lawn chair on the driveway. I don't think of myself as a girlie girl who can't handle less than comfortable arrangements, but anyone who was happy and able to sleep wherever they landed when there was an option of couch crashing indoors was definitely someone I wasn't inclined to mess with.
Early the next morning we started with make up for the just under a dozen extras who needed to become zombies for the day's shoot. While the rest of us were waiting our turn, Mahoney, in his BDUs, military-issued combat boots and vest and black Under Armor, gave us mini stunt lessons on how to properly break-fall as we'd be needing to do a fair bit of it, mostly at his hands. I tried, and failed, to not feel incredibly nervous.
We filled several cars and hoofed it out to an abandoned Boy Scout camp in the woods, stopping to grab one or two plastic covered camp mattresses out of a cabin to use as cushioning, a kind gesture to the newly trained, inexperienced zombie stunt team. On the schedule for the day was an intense zombie attack scene where Mahoney's character, I think more similar to the man playing him than not, would stay behind to try to fend off the attack and buy his companions time to escape. This meant Mahoney would be taking down roughly six zombie extras in very loosely choreographed succession.
The plan was to shoot one attack at a time. The first take we would see how it went when Mahoney attacked the first zombie in the pre-determined method. I stood behind the camera in my assigned place in line as zombie number four, anxiously waiting my turn. Action was called and Mahoney's game face came on full force. He took out the first zombie and without a moment's hesitation grabbed the second zombie, much to everyone's surprise. The scene worked out alright as the second zombie played along incredibly well, especially considering they weren't expecting to be part of the first take. Take two was to try it again, this time with the first and second zombie only. Again action was called and Mahoney nearly growled as he took out zombie number one, number two... and grabbed number three, throwing him to the ground! This scene will forever be etched in my memory as I stood behind zombie number three, who was in a cast having recently broken his arm, and watched in shock as Mahoney grabbed him and threw him unexpectedly and unprepared to the ground.
My entire body shook. Being the next in line was scary enough when your Marine-trained assailant is getting all excited and jumping the gun on the take downs, worse when you realized the way you were scripted to be taken out was by means of broken neck. Now, there was never any real pressure or application of force in the acting of the neck breaking, but Mahoney's very recent history showed he seemed to be acting more on instinct than careful awareness and I was a tad bit worried.
The third take was intentional with all three zombies and I took a large, deliberate step back from the scene. Luckily Mahoney remembered to stop at three and they got the shot they wanted. Then my take came and for the first time I squarely faced Mahoney, one on one, eye to eye. I stared at him, trying to will him with my eyes to not accidentally end me, my jaw set in determination to make sure it was a good shot, no matter how scared I felt. I worried it would be rough and painful but was surprised by how gentle he was. He reached for my head but most of the whipping action came from me and I would fall onto the flimsy camp mat then immediately roll away as a moment later Mahoney would come crashing down to the exact same spot with 3 more zombies on top of him. We did it several times. My body protested but I survived.
I've had the pleasure of spending time with Mahoney several times since that weekend. Once we ended up in the basement of the Alexandria Hilton, completely by accident, and for me it was a far more entertaining experience than it would have if I'd shared it with anyone else. Watching him immediately flip into action mode and sneak down the hall to explore while I laughed and fought the urge to run away will forever be one of my favorite Mahoney Moments.
I'm privileged to call him a friend. He is a joy to spend time with, hysterical and fun, certainly adventurous. My reaction to him now is to give him a giant hug then sit somewhere I can hang on his every spectacular story-telling word. I'm always thrilled to hear about his beautiful wife and children and find comfort knowing he supports my similar endeavors. My initial fear of him now seems absurd but it helped defined the meeting of a person I am blessed to know and will never forget.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Nesting
Yesterday I told a friend his wife had made a cameo in my dream the night before but I only remembered a few flashes of images. He, naturally, thought I was an odd cookie which sparked a discussion of how my vivid dream history could well be an indicator of my mental stability or lack there of. In turn I was motivated to update the blog, a blog that was originally created to be a place to share my crazy dream memories that I have collected since I was a wee thing. Today's memory is less about any particular dream and more of my bizarre sleeping habits when I was a kid and how it relates to me as an adult.
I had a history of kicking off my blankets in the middle of the night. I would start dreaming about being cold and can remember "feeling too tired" to wake up enough to pull the blankets up. In my dream state I thought to myself if I could just curl up in a tight enough ball I could stay warm, so I would move up the bed and try to fit my entire body on top of my pillow. This, naturally, did little to fix my issue, in fact it moved me further away from the warmth-giving bed coverings. So, the obvious Plan B was to try to fit INSIDE the pillow case. Inside. With the pillow. Imagine that for a moment, if you will.
Eventually I would get fed up with myself and wake up enough to get repositioned where I should be, all nice and tucked under the toasty covers, vowing to myself that next time I would just skip the crazy and go right to fixing-the-issue part. Let me just say there is a reason this memory is so vivid and it's not because it only happened that one time...
As a grown, logical human being I am able to stay under the covers throughout the night, which is quite an accomplishment given how much I can be prone to thrash about as if in the throes of some horrific affair, but my nesting tendencies are strong. I am happiest when it is cold and I can cocoon myself in a heaping pile of fleece blankets and my favorite outerwear includes an ankle length wool cloak that feels like wrapping up in pure heaven against the wind.
Now that I have the covers under control you'd think I could resolve the issue of trying to sleep through those urgent midnight Ladies room breaks, it's like boot camp for the bladder. Same problem, VERY different dreams...
Come back soon and listen to the tale in which I buy a neon yellow rubber gun.
I had a history of kicking off my blankets in the middle of the night. I would start dreaming about being cold and can remember "feeling too tired" to wake up enough to pull the blankets up. In my dream state I thought to myself if I could just curl up in a tight enough ball I could stay warm, so I would move up the bed and try to fit my entire body on top of my pillow. This, naturally, did little to fix my issue, in fact it moved me further away from the warmth-giving bed coverings. So, the obvious Plan B was to try to fit INSIDE the pillow case. Inside. With the pillow. Imagine that for a moment, if you will.
Eventually I would get fed up with myself and wake up enough to get repositioned where I should be, all nice and tucked under the toasty covers, vowing to myself that next time I would just skip the crazy and go right to fixing-the-issue part. Let me just say there is a reason this memory is so vivid and it's not because it only happened that one time...
As a grown, logical human being I am able to stay under the covers throughout the night, which is quite an accomplishment given how much I can be prone to thrash about as if in the throes of some horrific affair, but my nesting tendencies are strong. I am happiest when it is cold and I can cocoon myself in a heaping pile of fleece blankets and my favorite outerwear includes an ankle length wool cloak that feels like wrapping up in pure heaven against the wind.
Now that I have the covers under control you'd think I could resolve the issue of trying to sleep through those urgent midnight Ladies room breaks, it's like boot camp for the bladder. Same problem, VERY different dreams...
Come back soon and listen to the tale in which I buy a neon yellow rubber gun.
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