Waking Up @ MindSay 
alarm
Not going to let it happen
I rarely remember dreams. I usually wake up oblivious to the fact that my mind has probably been overactive all night. Lately it seems that every dream I actually remember, with the exception of one or two, has been about her.
And now, just when I'm feeling I'm doing so well, I'm living my life and moving on, I have to wake up this morning from the most vivid dream I think I've ever had. I remember every detail, and I had to wake up to face the reality that she's not there... again. Fuck that. I'm not going to let it get me down.
Early riser
This should be my all time record for earliest post on mindsay. I don't know if that is good or bad, as it isn't even all that early; it is 7:33 am. Yeah I got up at 6 in the morning to watch Dice-K and the Sox against the Oakland A's in Japan, and it really isn't paying off so far, as the whole team is looking like it is still spring training. But I did have Dice-K on my rotisserie baseball team, so I did what any loyal owner should do. Unfortunately, the first two innings he pitches were downright painful to watch, but thankfully he has settled down now after 4.
It will be interesting to see if my posts are any more or less incoherent in the mornings. I am not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, although I do think it would be more productive if I made more of an attempt to be one. I sleep so terribly that I just don't get a good rest at night, so I see this as not happening any time soon. It takes me a good 35-40 minutes to shake the cobwebs in the morning, while some would argue I don't shake them at all. There is a professor at the University of California that has been trying to almost manufacture his mood by altering his activities and trying to find an optimal routine to boost his morale. This is an interesting concept. I know that he found he is happier if he watches an hour of television in the morning, and none before bed. I wonder what my optimal schedule would be.
Does the name Jack Cust sound dirty to you? Yeah, me too.
It will be interesting to see if my posts are any more or less incoherent in the mornings. I am not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, although I do think it would be more productive if I made more of an attempt to be one. I sleep so terribly that I just don't get a good rest at night, so I see this as not happening any time soon. It takes me a good 35-40 minutes to shake the cobwebs in the morning, while some would argue I don't shake them at all. There is a professor at the University of California that has been trying to almost manufacture his mood by altering his activities and trying to find an optimal routine to boost his morale. This is an interesting concept. I know that he found he is happier if he watches an hour of television in the morning, and none before bed. I wonder what my optimal schedule would be.
Does the name Jack Cust sound dirty to you? Yeah, me too.
Sparrow prepares for a big day, sharing a little more magic!
(link back for visitors from Our Enchanted Garden Website )
This link for visitors from Flickr; Flickr Photo Gallery for Our Enchanted Garden
This morning I'll share a few of the sparrow shots I took the other day. They're so cute when they're all sleepy and fluffy! Wouldn't you agree? It was a foggy, damp and cool morning and the birch tree is the first thing in the front yard to be touched by the early morning sunrise! Here's a link to the blog I wrote in August '05 about the broods of young birds in the trees and around the garden. I'm thrilled to be able to actually get pictures of them now, last year I didn't have a camera that could take shots like these! The view is through a rather dusty double pane window, which gives it a softened effect - as if a filter was used in the shots!
All freshened up and ready to greet the day!
And A Very Good Morning to You Too! :D ;)
(more update on Wednesday's adventure will begin on Monday; so far there was no confirmation on Friday that the problem is solved, although they've acknowledged they have received the paperwork and suggested it could be as long as September 24th before a decision is reached... eeeeek!!)
(link back for visitors from Our Enchanted Garden - Website )
This link for visitors from Flickr; Flickr Photo Gallery for Our Enchanted Garden
This morning I'll share a few of the sparrow shots I took the other day. They're so cute when they're all sleepy and fluffy! Wouldn't you agree? It was a foggy, damp and cool morning and the birch tree is the first thing in the front yard to be touched by the early morning sunrise! Here's a link to the blog I wrote in August '05 about the broods of young birds in the trees and around the garden. I'm thrilled to be able to actually get pictures of them now, last year I didn't have a camera that could take shots like these! The view is through a rather dusty double pane window, which gives it a softened effect - as if a filter was used in the shots!
All freshened up and ready to greet the day!
And A Very Good Morning to You Too! :D ;)
(more update on Wednesday's adventure will begin on Monday; so far there was no confirmation on Friday that the problem is solved, although they've acknowledged they have received the paperwork and suggested it could be as long as September 24th before a decision is reached... eeeeek!!)
(link back for visitors from Our Enchanted Garden - Website )
Good Morning, Starshine
I woke up this morning for just a moment. Pippin was curled up between my legs again, dreaming of whatever it is cats dream. I'm not sure when he came in - he prefers my room about half the time. Usually, this is the half when it's quiet and warm in here. Smiled, my world was at peace, fell asleep again.
My next awakening was more enthusiastic and disturbing - someone had seen fit to let the dog in, and he came bounding in my open door and stuck his cold nose in my face. Actually, my eye. I groaned and smiled, and he wiggled a request. I worked one hand free of the blankets, and scratched around and under his collar. He sat patiently, tail thumping, until sleep tried to claim me again, and my hand fell. Cold wet nose nudged under my arm until I got the message again and went back to petting him. Someone called him upstairs, and he said a doggy, "Oh!" and bounded off, letting me fall into dreams once more.
Well, that didn't last long. The key to waking someone up is all about disturbing them. Physical contact, if it's not abrupt, actually relaxes instead of disturbs me. I'm the one who craves touch. My sisters have observed that a light shake doesn't wake me (when we share my bed), but their leaving does. I'm suddenly alone, and I'm very attuned to that.
Happy waking is when they break contact so that I wake, but they're still sitting on the bed, smiling at me. You left, but you didn't leave me alone.
I'm kind of vulnerable in that first period of time. It takes a little while to get everything going and running, like my shields of laughter and sarcasm and everything that holds the world off a bit and lets me function. I tried describing this to the individual I still think of as Michael. Before I manage to get kick-started, I'm usually very happy, a little childlike, and very open to attack, because it hasn't occurred to me that anything will be on the offensive this early in the morning.
Smile, reflecting a different kind of light than what the sun's bathing me in, and rouse myself out of my bed, hop over the pile of stuff I pulled off it last night. Time to start the day.
My next awakening was more enthusiastic and disturbing - someone had seen fit to let the dog in, and he came bounding in my open door and stuck his cold nose in my face. Actually, my eye. I groaned and smiled, and he wiggled a request. I worked one hand free of the blankets, and scratched around and under his collar. He sat patiently, tail thumping, until sleep tried to claim me again, and my hand fell. Cold wet nose nudged under my arm until I got the message again and went back to petting him. Someone called him upstairs, and he said a doggy, "Oh!" and bounded off, letting me fall into dreams once more.
Well, that didn't last long. The key to waking someone up is all about disturbing them. Physical contact, if it's not abrupt, actually relaxes instead of disturbs me. I'm the one who craves touch. My sisters have observed that a light shake doesn't wake me (when we share my bed), but their leaving does. I'm suddenly alone, and I'm very attuned to that.
Happy waking is when they break contact so that I wake, but they're still sitting on the bed, smiling at me. You left, but you didn't leave me alone.
I'm kind of vulnerable in that first period of time. It takes a little while to get everything going and running, like my shields of laughter and sarcasm and everything that holds the world off a bit and lets me function. I tried describing this to the individual I still think of as Michael. Before I manage to get kick-started, I'm usually very happy, a little childlike, and very open to attack, because it hasn't occurred to me that anything will be on the offensive this early in the morning.
Smile, reflecting a different kind of light than what the sun's bathing me in, and rouse myself out of my bed, hop over the pile of stuff I pulled off it last night. Time to start the day.
Kitty Morning
I wake to find the Prince sitting on my chest. Actually, lying on me, the length of him extending from between my curves to just below where my jeans ride. I smile sleepily, run my hand down from his head to the middle of his back, and he arches a bit and purrs to indicate that such behavior should continue.
I've called him Little Prince since about a month after we had them, but he's probably eleven pounds now, the Little part needs to be dropped. Just for his attitude - he's got this easy arrogance and believes that all people are here to give him attention. His twin is his complete counterpart - she probably weighs six pounds, and she's insane.
They both look as if they've got Siamese in them - they actually take their lineage from a long line of barn cats, but they're very long, and cream-colored with seal points. Chai's my favorite of the two - I recognize something of myself in her, I think. At least, who I used to be. She's always off doing her own thing, and usually freaks out if people take an interest in her - but if no one's noticed her for a very long time, she gets lonely and comes up to you, talking and trying to get you to notice her. She's pretty, and whiter than Pippin. Her face isn't exactly the solid color it's supposed to be - she's got little rivulets and patches of white, like the caps on the river. She's so tiny, it seems. Dad's certain she's insane for the things she does, like abruptly attacking a cat five pounds larger than her when she was happily sunning herself a moment ago. Pip doesn't care - she's not going to win, and he's far more laid-back anyways.
He blinks at me with eyes that almost seem to glow blue. I'm not wearing my glasses, so everything in my room appears in gentle, fuzzy curves - he blends in well. Pip's purr is automatic, as soon as you touch him, or pick him up, he starts. He'll also start licking you if you leave your hand in one spot for too long. I wonder if he bothers to interpret the grin that flashes across my face - showing teeth should be perceived as a threat, but maybe cats just pick up on other things we give off, like body language, vibes, whatever, and understand that we're happy.
Of course, in Chai's case, anything she picks up usually gets translated into, "Oh no, I'm going to get picked up," and she takes off for the far side of the lawn, where she stands, turning to look at you, tail twitching. If you take so much as a step towards her, she kites off across the street or the back lawn, disappearing into the brush. I have no idea how a white cat vanishes so well, but there's a reason they each have a bell on their collars.
I move to close my door - my room has a pocket door, and I can reach it from my bed if I stretch. For whatever reason, I was sleeping without pajamas again, and his fur tickles luxuriously against my skin. He seems to shrug when I move, and slides off my chest to resituate himself further down the bed, curled between my calves. Much better - getting body heat without the ground rising and falling. Definitely preferable in the cat world. I laugh silently again, and go to get my book and try to find my glasses - I usually toss them up on the first shelf of the bookcase next to my bed. It's a nice morning - I'm in my cave, sun's light is coming in through my shade, and I don't have to be anywhere at a specific time. I leave my book alone for a minute, and survey my familiar domain. Pippin's begun washing his forelimbs - I can't see his face, but I recognize the motions. My lava lamp appears dull in this light (I don't leave it on overnight), and Alistair's not yet awake - which is the reason Pippin's over here with me and not on top of his cage. I consider taking down some of my wolf pictures today - they haven't really been suiting Amanda lately, but they're not really bothering me yet.
Butterflies on my ceiling, and I think of CJ. Haven't talked to her for the longest time, maybe she'll be online today. My wandering thoughts touch on an individual I had an on-again, off-again relationship with through middle school, and I laugh inwardly again at the serious little girl I was. Five years from now, I'll probably be lying in my bed, and laugh inwardly at the philosopher I wanted to be. I wonder what Tony's up to, whether he's up yet or not, whether he went home smiling as much as I did. I feel a breath of Christmas anticipation, and remember some of what I'm supposed to do today. Pippin glances up and gives me a look I've gotten from cats so many times in my life: "Why are you concerned with that? There are more important things. For instance, you could be stroking me." The same silent laugh - it's not quite my cat-yawn, but more than a grin - teeth apart, happy and half-feral, and I can feel the exaggerated canines that I love having.
I wonder about the future, what next year will show, what the end of college will be for me. Will I stay with this path? I've got evidence for and against such a notion. Will I always consider myself too young to get married? What's going to happen with me and Rahni if I transfer to Winona in a year or two? How will I handle it if Elizabeth decides that Penn State is a definite and not just a possibility?
Pippin gives me the same look, and I give him the same laugh, twinkling two fingers to coax him to return. He seems to think it over for a moment, then pads over, sniffing at my hand, and easily settling to let me scratch his chin. I curl around him, listening to the world outside my room.
My sisters don't have school today, so I should hear the hum of their computer in the next room, and the piano up in the family room. Elizabeth seems to be sleeping in, though - I can hear Denise's footsteps in the kitchen, and nothing more from them. I lie listening to the world - you can actually hear the sun come in in the laundry room (next to my bedroom) if you're quiet - it steals its way so softly across the floor, trying not to disturb so much as a dust mote, but it always startles one. And you know how it is with them - you startle one, and the whole bunch is up in the air, panicked and swirling. I can almost hear the tiny breaths from my gerbil, or the dog jingling as he scratches his collar in the basement. Dad's already left for work, and the screen door hisses as Mom comes in from shopping. Ah! Groceries.
I disengage myself from my regal furball, who glances up to see what the problem is, then clearly dismisses me as being of no consequence, and returns to his energy conservation. Pull on a pair of running pants and an old soccer jersey - today should be a purple bra day, but I think it's in the laundry, so, black it shall be. Just before leaving, I grin, thinking of running through the November leaves barefoot.
The Prince sleeps on.
I wake to find the Prince sitting on my chest. Actually, lying on me, the length of him extending from between my curves to just below where my jeans ride. I smile sleepily, run my hand down from his head to the middle of his back, and he arches a bit and purrs to indicate that such behavior should continue.
I've called him Little Prince since about a month after we had them, but he's probably eleven pounds now, the Little part needs to be dropped. Just for his attitude - he's got this easy arrogance and believes that all people are here to give him attention. His twin is his complete counterpart - she probably weighs six pounds, and she's insane.
They both look as if they've got Siamese in them - they actually take their lineage from a long line of barn cats, but they're very long, and cream-colored with seal points. Chai's my favorite of the two - I recognize something of myself in her, I think. At least, who I used to be. She's always off doing her own thing, and usually freaks out if people take an interest in her - but if no one's noticed her for a very long time, she gets lonely and comes up to you, talking and trying to get you to notice her. She's pretty, and whiter than Pippin. Her face isn't exactly the solid color it's supposed to be - she's got little rivulets and patches of white, like the caps on the river. She's so tiny, it seems. Dad's certain she's insane for the things she does, like abruptly attacking a cat five pounds larger than her when she was happily sunning herself a moment ago. Pip doesn't care - she's not going to win, and he's far more laid-back anyways.
He blinks at me with eyes that almost seem to glow blue. I'm not wearing my glasses, so everything in my room appears in gentle, fuzzy curves - he blends in well. Pip's purr is automatic, as soon as you touch him, or pick him up, he starts. He'll also start licking you if you leave your hand in one spot for too long. I wonder if he bothers to interpret the grin that flashes across my face - showing teeth should be perceived as a threat, but maybe cats just pick up on other things we give off, like body language, vibes, whatever, and understand that we're happy.
Of course, in Chai's case, anything she picks up usually gets translated into, "Oh no, I'm going to get picked up," and she takes off for the far side of the lawn, where she stands, turning to look at you, tail twitching. If you take so much as a step towards her, she kites off across the street or the back lawn, disappearing into the brush. I have no idea how a white cat vanishes so well, but there's a reason they each have a bell on their collars.
I move to close my door - my room has a pocket door, and I can reach it from my bed if I stretch. For whatever reason, I was sleeping without pajamas again, and his fur tickles luxuriously against my skin. He seems to shrug when I move, and slides off my chest to resituate himself further down the bed, curled between my calves. Much better - getting body heat without the ground rising and falling. Definitely preferable in the cat world. I laugh silently again, and go to get my book and try to find my glasses - I usually toss them up on the first shelf of the bookcase next to my bed. It's a nice morning - I'm in my cave, sun's light is coming in through my shade, and I don't have to be anywhere at a specific time. I leave my book alone for a minute, and survey my familiar domain. Pippin's begun washing his forelimbs - I can't see his face, but I recognize the motions. My lava lamp appears dull in this light (I don't leave it on overnight), and Alistair's not yet awake - which is the reason Pippin's over here with me and not on top of his cage. I consider taking down some of my wolf pictures today - they haven't really been suiting Amanda lately, but they're not really bothering me yet.
Butterflies on my ceiling, and I think of CJ. Haven't talked to her for the longest time, maybe she'll be online today. My wandering thoughts touch on an individual I had an on-again, off-again relationship with through middle school, and I laugh inwardly again at the serious little girl I was. Five years from now, I'll probably be lying in my bed, and laugh inwardly at the philosopher I wanted to be. I wonder what Tony's up to, whether he's up yet or not, whether he went home smiling as much as I did. I feel a breath of Christmas anticipation, and remember some of what I'm supposed to do today. Pippin glances up and gives me a look I've gotten from cats so many times in my life: "Why are you concerned with that? There are more important things. For instance, you could be stroking me." The same silent laugh - it's not quite my cat-yawn, but more than a grin - teeth apart, happy and half-feral, and I can feel the exaggerated canines that I love having.
I wonder about the future, what next year will show, what the end of college will be for me. Will I stay with this path? I've got evidence for and against such a notion. Will I always consider myself too young to get married? What's going to happen with me and Rahni if I transfer to Winona in a year or two? How will I handle it if Elizabeth decides that Penn State is a definite and not just a possibility?
Pippin gives me the same look, and I give him the same laugh, twinkling two fingers to coax him to return. He seems to think it over for a moment, then pads over, sniffing at my hand, and easily settling to let me scratch his chin. I curl around him, listening to the world outside my room.
My sisters don't have school today, so I should hear the hum of their computer in the next room, and the piano up in the family room. Elizabeth seems to be sleeping in, though - I can hear Denise's footsteps in the kitchen, and nothing more from them. I lie listening to the world - you can actually hear the sun come in in the laundry room (next to my bedroom) if you're quiet - it steals its way so softly across the floor, trying not to disturb so much as a dust mote, but it always startles one. And you know how it is with them - you startle one, and the whole bunch is up in the air, panicked and swirling. I can almost hear the tiny breaths from my gerbil, or the dog jingling as he scratches his collar in the basement. Dad's already left for work, and the screen door hisses as Mom comes in from shopping. Ah! Groceries.
I disengage myself from my regal furball, who glances up to see what the problem is, then clearly dismisses me as being of no consequence, and returns to his energy conservation. Pull on a pair of running pants and an old soccer jersey - today should be a purple bra day, but I think it's in the laundry, so, black it shall be. Just before leaving, I grin, thinking of running through the November leaves barefoot.
The Prince sleeps on.
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