Night Life @ MindSay 
That's it.
Leo slept, ate, peed, pooped, played, and smiled, and except for the lack of a nap Grandpa did the same.
Oops!
Sorry, I know, I know, way too much information.
I apologize.
But the more interesting drama for the past two days has been taking place in my dreams, no, not in my dreams, in my nightmares.
Night before last I found myself sitting a pew, yes, a pew—don't ask me why—between the comedian Milton Berle at about age fifty and another comedian about sixty whose face I could not quite place but who I now know was the silent film star Buster Keaton.
There was a roast of some kind going on, but that entertainment was not in my dream. In my dream, Berle was taunting Keaton sitting just to my left in our pew. Berle would lean across me, even stand on occasion to get closer to Keaton, make a joke at Keaton's expense, and then laugh loudly at his insult.
Keaton's shtick was deadpan.
Not once did he crack a smile. He would listen solemnly in silence to taunt after taunt from Berle and then reply with single syllable.
I couldn't quite understand what either of these men was saying. Berle would howl with laughter and resume his comedic vituperation.
I said nothing, did nothing, simply turned my head from side to side to follow the action like a tennis match.
The scene changed.
Six or eight people who had been at the roast were waiting in line to greet the two hosts of a party. I could see only the first host and I didn't recognize him. When people got to the head of the line they embraced each host and gave him a big hug.
I was third in line.
I hugged the first man, patted him on the back, and moved on. I hugged the second man and patted him on the back.
When I released him and stepped back, I realized the man was O.J. Simpson. I was startled, completely discombobulated, and felt instantly awkward, but I knew the look on my face expressed only that I was puzzled.
What the—
O.J. smiled at me, broadly, obviously pleased by my reaction, perhaps by the success of this deception that had somehow managed to get me to embrace him and to hug him. His hands still clasped my upper arms in a gesture of familiarity and affection, our faces only a few inches apart.
He grinned.
"You may remember me," he said in almost a whisper. "I used to play football."
Feeling uncomfortable, awkward, lost, and lost for words, I could only stand there, trapped in this celebrity vignette, looking confused, looking right and left for any clue to comprehension, for any way out.
I woke up.
The next night I found myself in a room full of Nazis who had discovered my identity and were preparing to torture me. I thrashed about their mountain cabin, doing my best to destroy papers and other odd items of evidence.
Of what I do not know.
I grabbed something that looked like a length of extension cord, perhaps it was a reed, and tried to stuff it into my mouth and chew it to pieces.
I failed.
Two men yanked it from my mouth and pinioned my arms. A third, obviously the leader, laughed at the futility of my squirming and struggling to free myself. To my horror he poured gasoline on me from a small red plastic can.
My hair and the left shoulder and arm and breast of my gray suit were drenched and he laughed again. I prepared myself for unimaginable pain.
I thought of Thich Quang Duc, the Vietnamese Buddhist monk whose self-immolation in the streets of Saigon in 1963 is the subject of a famous news photograph.
I steeled myself for fire.
The scene suddenly changed and I saw on the floor the severed hand of the man who had been about to ignite me. The stump of wrist was red with blood.
Had I done this?
I wasn't sure.
Who?
How?
Again the scene changed.
I was a passenger in the front seat of a driverless car that had just sailed off the edge of a mountain road and over the steep precipice of a cliff and now in superslow motion was falling, falling, falling, falling, falling down.
I curled up, I brought my knees up over my stomach, my elbows together over ribs and chest, and with my arms, my wrists, and my hands I protected my face.
I prepared for impact.
I had the best night of my life with this woman and our friend Jessica. It meant so much to be with some of the people that meant the most to me on My 21st Birthday. Including Candace, even tho we aren't together now.....She is still one of my best friends and I still love her dearly. The meaning of her being there with me will be more special to me for the rest of my life than she will ever know
Well this is no surprise...
You're an Owl!
Old and wise, you have a thirst for knowledge and a reputation for making the right decision. This can be a lot of pressure sometimes, but you seem so relaxed and unruffled that it never seems to show. You always keep your eyes wide open and fixed on your next objective, or on the Harry Potter books, which you love. The only question you ever ask is "Who?"
Take the Animal Quiz at the Blue Pyramid.
Well, it has been a busy week. There is a lot I need to do including a load of reading for my dissertation tomorrow which I have not even started. I've been trying to order my transcripts online from the American university I just completed an exchange at without much success. My printer (new as of September I might add) has decided to stop working on me. I need to print, sign, scan and e mail back a form before they will let me have the privilege of paying $2.50 for my transcript to be (hopefully) faxed to my advisor here. It's not the money that is pissing me off, just the lengthly process which means everything needs to be signed stamped cross checked and filed before anything happens.
A little background: I am in my third (technically fourth) year of an American Studies degree at an English university. What is American Studies I hear you ask? Why it is mainly composed of literature history and politics but you can pretty much take it in any direction. You can do classes in cultural studies, film studies, sociology, women's studies, learn Spanish. I chose it because I did not want to limit myself and I wanted to live abroad (year's exchange is a compulsory part of the degree), not just travel as a tourist. *end memorized speel* Now I am working out what I want to do with it. My boyfriend is still out in America and has 2 years left atleast. I want to do a Master's degree preferably in English and Creative Writing, so I am beginning the process of applying to the University I did my exchange at. The long distance thing is tough so I really don't want to have to do it after this year. Another degree is pretty much my only path back there other than getting married which, ultimately yes we are heading in that direction, but neither of us are ready for that yet. I will just be so glad when I don't have to face the American Embassy any more. I can understand security measures, I really can and I have absolutely nothing to hide but I hate filling in all those forms and the process is very intimidating.
Like I said, the long distance thing seems almost unbearably tough at times. It is a huge jump to seeing someone you love every single day, waking up next to them each morning all that to just...well, not. We talk on Instant Messenger, exchange e mails, send letters, cards and care packages when we can afford international postage. Occasional phone calls, but neither of us can afford outrageous phone bills. We would use webcams which we both bought with the intention of saving money on phone bills. But I live on campus and the bandwidth is restricted so mine does not work. Yeah, it is really hard, but I would rather go through this than feel nothing. Ultimately we will end up together and we talk about this. It gives hope and strength to both of us. This is the first time I have been in a relationship and been completely open and honest, shown 100% of the real me and it is amazing to be loved for who you really are. I don't want to gush or resort to romance novel cliches but I am so happy. I'll be flying out for new years which I really cannot wait for. So it is simply a question of getting through this lag time.
Another strategy as well as regular contact with him, is distraction tactics. I find it helps to try and take my mind off things rather than just crying in my room, missing him. Yes, I have been there but atleast by throwing myself into my work I am getting stuff done and improving my chances of getting out there for a Master's. In the past couple of weeks, I have been getting over my shyness and reaching out more to people in my kitchen even though we have all been here since the start of October. I guess the real turning point was Halloween. I was in the bathroom getting ready for bed when I just got talking to this girl on my floor and she said to get ready in 5 minutes and come out with a group of them from the kitchen (accomodation is divided around kitchens. I share a large kitchen with about 25 other people with corridors of rooms coming off each side). I ran back to my room, put my contacts back in and pulled on a knee length black skirt, black top and black tights (no costume to hand, best I could do). My standard boots finished me off and I was in the taxi heading into town with about 6 other people. It was fun. We went to a few bars and I was even able to pull off the get to know you small talk that had been so daunting before. Since then, I have been out again to a local club and hung out in the kitchen more rather than dwelling in my room. It does help but at the same time, it is kind of tainted. I wish he could be there to share in my happiness and it does feel awkward at times. I am not single so I don't want to be chatted up or have random guys come up to me and start grinding on me. At the same time, the person I do want to kiss and dance with is not here and it is a bit uncomfortable to see everyone else around me kissing etc. I am not the cheating kind. I am faithful (and expect the same of him). It's just I miss having the love physically there in front of me.
I will not let this turn into one big relationship rant. It is a part of my life, a very important part, but it is not all I am. Also under the heading of distraction tactics, I auditioned for a campus production of The Vagina Monologues. This is the first vaguely dramatic thing I have done since GCSE drama. I really hope I get a part as it is a really important cause. Performances around Valentines Day raise money to end violence against women. Regardless I will be supporting this and helping in any way I can. Plus I really want to try acting again. I want to be able to stand up for causes I believe in in public and not be afraid.
The final thing I will mention is that as of today, I am exercising more and eating more healthily. I am not on a diet and I don't want to lose weight. I am 5'1" and about 100-110lbs. If anything I want to gain some weight but I just want to feel healthier and have more energy.
Ok, this turned out to be an entry of essay length proportions. But a lot has happened in these past few days. I'll try to update more regularly so it won't come to this so often. I should really get on with my work now. Enough procrastination.
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