"You're over me? When were you *under* me?"

Do you ever have one of those days where you’re just over it? 

Over the goddamned weather.  This incessant combo of heat, humidity and rain has made me downright surly.  And a little bit ugly (see curly hair and bangs that won’t cooperate).  Smile all you want you damn TV meteorologists. I still kind of hate you.  (Except for you, Mike Woods. I know it’s not *your* fault!)

Over Disc 1, Season 4 of "Damages" being on a VERY LONG WAIT at Netflix.

Over the person in your world (friend, co-worker, significant other, whoever) who is just whiny or draining or annoying or constantly pushing back or just downright exhausting to be around or listen to?  Who makes whatever “it” is unnecessarily harder than it ever needs to be.  Who has lost their sense of humor.  Or never had one in the first place.  Next.

  

Over the need to work to live.  And waaaaaaay over bringing work home at night.  Though beats staying late because at least at home I can get comfy and blast music and have the TV on in the background if I feel like it.

Over the three people who insist on walking side-by-side, slow as molasses, on a busy sidewalk, ensuring the only way around them is to hop into the street, into oncoming traffic, and try to pass them.

Over the people who don’t let you off the subway before they try to shove their way on.

And over the people who insist on standing at the subway door even though they have no intention of getting off so I have to shove past them or risk winding up down at Penn Station.

Over any "news" report having to do with what celeb will be on "American Idol", "America's Got Talent", "The X Factor", The I-Couldn't-Give-A-Damn.  Unless it's "The Voice" and it's about Billy Joe Armstrong.  Never over that.

  

Over people who don’t pull their weight.  At work. In life.  

Over broken escalators at really busy subway stations with really huge staircases.  Yeah, I'm looking at you 51st and Lex. 

Over people who insist on telling me how pale I am.  (Oh, gee!  I never noticed my skin tone despite living a lifetime looking at this body of mine.)  And, b-t-w, these people who I’m referring to are the ones who make certain to say it in such a way as to equate my being pale to being about as attractive as a pile of poo. 

Over my broken closet door.  Though I should really just get over *myself* and find someone who can fix it.  Or like my friend Rachel would say, find a guy who does stuff.

Over people who set you up just to knock you down.

Over the alarm clock.

Over the neighbor who cooks food that smells like feet and subsequently makes the hallway smell like feet. But not just any feet…hot feet…because it’s hot and humid out!

Over the subway being delayed.  Or stuck.  And super over the platform being a hot box of hell.

Over bad hair days.

Over the bitchy trainer at the gym who hoards all the equipment for her client.  (Now this is someone I *should* be getting along with, seeing as how I’m all bitchy and such.  But oddly I kind of wanted to go off on her today, when she once again stockpiled medicine balls and the coveted 7.5 pound weights for her client.  Who she hugs.  Which, incidentally, I’m not just over, I’m weirded out by.

Over people who try to make you feel guilty for not paying enough attention to them.

Over the cashier at the supermarket who still insists on loading the OJ, milk and bag of apples in one bag and the bread and cold cuts in the other. Putting all the heavy stuff in one bag...not as helpful as you might think.

Over going from extreme heat outside to extreme cold inside.  It’s just a ticking clock before I get sick. And I’m grateful for the a/c – I try to never complain about being cold - but good god my body was not happy today!

Over people who mistake kindness for weakness.

Over people who don’t have any respect for my time.

Over the pharmacy line at CVS, where no matter what day of the week it is or what time of day it is, it's always an epic shitshow. I should take my business elsewhere, but I'm a sentimental fool for my H.S. job.

Even Michael McDonald knows
how sweet freedom is, Suri!

Over the K. Stew/Rob Patts cheating scandal.  Don’t like them.  Don’t care.  Can we please go back to talking about The Emancipation of Katie & Suri?

Over people who are obsessed with juicing (drinks not ‘roids, all you Clemens fans out there).  And who are obsessed with giving way too many details on “do you have any idea what a cleanse can do for your body”.  Uh, no thanks.  Don't want to know what it'll do for me and certainly don't want to hear about what it did for you.  Would rather drive needles into my eyes.

Over Mercury being in retrograde.  Right yourself dammit. I’m exhausted from the struggle!

  

What can I say? I’m having a case of the Mondays on Tuesday.  It's weird, but I’m generally really happy these days.  I swear.  I'm coming off a great weekend with the ladies.  Still essentially loving the new job and making some headway on the projects at hand (though, there’s a reason they say work would be great if it wasn’t for the people…there’s always a few I could take or leave. Or both.)  I have good people in my life.  I'm having fun.  I’m sleeping well.  I’m in the midst of a great book (thank you again Emily Giffin). 

But I have to say, this weather has been the trigger finger on my “over it” rage.  It’s really just knocked me down and taken me down for the count.  I'm not one to give in.  At least not without a good fight.  But right here, right now (Jesus?  Jones?  That you?), I’m too tired to fight back anymore.  

If there's a ring, sadly, my towel is in it.  

So for now, I’m dreaming about fall.  When the air is crisp.  And sweaters are a go-to. When it’s cool enough that you don’t start your day with little pools of sweat on your forehead, but not so cold that you need a coat and gloves or a hat.  When the umbrella is tucked away and the only things falling from the sky are the leaves (in oranges and yellows and reds, of course).  

And even though last night I had a dream that I was at a comedy club and this guy that I dated in high school ("dated"...LOL...) was doing a stand-up routine because he was tired of being an accountant… (wait…what…random…and for the record have NO IDEA what this guy is actually up to or why he popped to mind after all this time, since I'm fairly certain the last time I saw him he was hammered and slurring...a combination that is far less attractive when he's no longer the Captain of the football team and I'm no longer in HS)…so my nighttime dreams still need a leave a little bit to be desired, but my daydreams consist of fast-forwarding or, better yet, leapfrogging over  the month of August. Because ever though it technically hasn’t even started you…you guessed it…I’m totally OVER.  IT.

So do tell....what are you over?  And did anyone catch where I nicked this excessively clever title from?  I know it has nothing to really do with what I wrote, but this is just how my brain works.  

And last, but never least, this is where Spotify led me tonight...classic...in total excess...

Eiffel Asleep (yeah...I know...that was bad...)

The strangest thing has been going on with me lately.  I’ve been sleeping.  Well. Through the night.  Without taking Advil PM.  Or Benadryl.  Or Imitrex. 

And I’ve been having dreams.  Vivid dreams.  Not those nightmarish chase-me-I’m-trying-to-run-but-I-can’t/I’m-showing-up-places-naked/I’m-getting-attacked dreams…you know all those classic anxiety dreams that sadly were plaguing me all spring (and a good chunk of the winter for that matter).  I mean, I’m a little afraid of jinxing myself by even writing this…(I know what you’re thinking.  “Too late!”)…but I just can’t contain myself. 

I love my sleep.  And getting it is a lot of a victory for me, so this is my version of shouting my good news from a mountaintop.  Though the age-old question when I started this whole thing does come to mind – does anyone even hear me shouting?  Either way….here goes the dream sequence.

My dreams as of late have circled around travelling, packing and being on an airplane or in an airport.  I’ve been to Paris a few times (already established my love for that city)…the Eiffel Tower (To see the Eiffel Tower in your dream symbolizes strength and longevity. You have a solid relationship and strong support system. Alternatively, the dream symbol refers to romance.).  And Paris in the snow.  (Now the snow definition is long so I plucked out this piece - To dream that you are watching the snow fall represents a clean start and a fresh, new perspective. It is indicative of spiritual peace and tranquility.)

Now last night was quite a doozy of mixed dreams.  I was doing my travel bit, but then lots of other things started to come into play. Weird.  Here goes….

I was taking a trip to Japan with a friend of mine.  In real life, the two of us are hopping a train to CT this weekend so that might be where that’s coming from.  So first I’m feverishly packing.  We were only going for a few days (which makes all of no sense), but I kept grabbing stuff from my closet and shoving it in my suitcase.  Flash-forward to my being on the plane where we’re flying first class (only in my dreams, btw) and my friend is late.  Like *late* late.  The plane is taxying down the runway and I’m trying to text her and she magically shows up.  Okay then.  All good.  We order drinks, which take way too long to get there and when my vodka/soda does arrive it’s all watered down because the ice cubes melted and I’m way annoyed with my unhelpful flight attendant and he won’t give me another drink.  That dream sort of fades away at that point…don’t know if we even made it to Japan or if I ever got a new cup o’vodka.  What a cliffhanger!  But more importantly…what’s it all mean?

Packing:

 
To dream that you are packing signifies big changes ahead for you. You are putting past issues to rest or past relationships behind you. Alternatively, it represents the burdens that you carry.

(Not so sure about the “burden” part of this one, though suppose we all have some.  In better news, big ch-ch-ch-changes.  Time may change me.   But I can’t trace time.)

Airplane:

To see an airplane in your dream indicates that you will overcome your obstacles and rise to a new level of prominence and status. You may experience a higher consciousness, newfound freedom and greater awareness. Perhaps you need to gain a better perspective or wider view on something. If the airplane is taking off, then it suggests that an idea or plan is about to "take off" and be put into action. It may also represent your need to get away and escape from your daily life.

(Weeeeeeeeee!  I love that dream that absolutely screams positivity and encourages a little vacation. Have to work on that one!)

Vodka:

Surprisingly enough, vodka does not have an entry in my dream dictionary.  There is a section on alcohol, which is pretty negative and there’s a whole blip about alcoholism so we’ll just skip past this part, lest I give the chick who a decade ago called me a booze bag any cred.  (For the record…not my fault she was uptight and didn’t know how to enjoy herself at a party.  Not like I showed up to jury duty hammered at 9 a.m.  Whatevs.)

And I'm dreaming...

Back in dreamland….Somewhere in my brain, I moved on to another dream. I was out with my friends at a bar or club or something and a whole bunch of us go to the bathroom together….(because that’s apparently what girls stereotypically do in movies, on TV and in my dreams)…and in one of the stalls there’s a dead body.  Now it’s no secret that I’m an avid mystery reader and watcher, so an occasional dead body in my dream doesn’t freak me out so much.  It’s more like in my dreams I get to play out being JB Fletcher or Laura Holt or Bailey Weggins or Rachel Benjamin.  All good things. 

The weird part…..the body didn’t fluster me in my dream either.  It was there.  We saw it.  But then it wasn’t.  That didn’t seem to faze us either.  But the bathroom was still a crime scene.  And I don’t know why my friends I spent so much time in there in this dream.  It was full of couches and almost like a lounge and we just hung out and met people and chatted.  If it had a bar, we would have been all set.  (Ok, Boozy).  Anyway…weird.

Weirder still, is what you get when you look up any dreams related to the bathroom.  I’ll spare you the details that aren’t amusing.

Bathroom: 

To dream that you are in the bathroom, relates to your instinctual urges. You may be experiencing some burdens/feelings and need to "relieve yourself". Alternatively, a bathroom symbolizes purification and self-renewal. You need to cleanse yourself, both emotionally and psychologically.

(I’m going with the self-renewal part of this one.  And in all things humorous this note is at the end of the “Bathroom” interpretations - *Please also see Urination. View Dream Bank: "Restroom Maze", "Sitting On The Toilet", "Filthy Stalls" & "Dogs In The Bathroom".  LOL!  “Dogs in the bathroom”.  Is that a common dream?  And what about cats?  Just because they’re more discrete doesn’t mean they shouldn’t get a dream bank entry.  I mean I don’t even like cats, but fair is fair right?  Billie Jean thought so.)

Body:

To see or find a bloody dead body in your dream refers to a situation or issue that you can no longer avoid. You need to make an important decision and act on it immediately.

(“Bloody”.  There’s a charming visual. Now my dream body wasn’t all blood-like, but I do have a work sitch that’s been bubbling so strongly the lid is about to pop off. I have no doubt this part of the dream refers to that whole deal – do you think I’m reaching? -  but I can’t really talk about it. You know. The whole Sidney Bristow Effect.)

So then I moved on from the dead body and now I’m just hanging out chatting with the bartender about the dead body (How ‘bout the body in the bathroom, huh?  And dog and toilets?  Say what?) and on the barstool next to me is Adam Ant.  In full regalia.  And “Strip” is playing and everyone is all “Hey, Adam”. 

 

Huh? 

No dream dictionary for this one.  And NO FREAKING IDEA WHERE THE HELL THIS ONE CAME FROM.  I mean who dreams about Adam Ant?  In 2012?  I haven’t even been watching any of those VH1 countdown shows or “Where Are They Now”s.  Chalk this one up to just plain weirdness.  Or latent Benadryl finding it’s way into my brain to really screw with me just because it can.

For some reason I’m also showing Adam and the bartender my baseball that has a bunch of signatures from some former Mets that met (how’s that for working in a “meet the Mets” bit without even trying hard).  The baseball exists in real life.  But why I’m choosing to mentally dust it off and show it off is beyond me.

Now there’s nothing specific about bartenders, but I found this:

Bar 

To dream that you are at a public bar signifies your desire to escape from the stresses of your daily life and retreat into a light-hearted environment where pleasure abounds. 

(Booze.  Bag.  Or a girl who just wants to have fun?)

Baseball

The game of baseball has sexual innuendos, where the bat depicts the masculine aspects and the feminine aspects are depicted in the form of the ball or the ballpark.

(Paradise By the Dashboard Light anyone?  We all know the baseball/sex connections so I’m going to refrain from going any further and keep this entry on the cleaner side of “Fifty Shades of Grey” – which, in yet another sidebar, I think I’m the only person I know who hasn’t read that book.  But to me it’s like sushi or bungee jumping or Tom Cruise.  Zero.  Interest.

And there you have it.  More sleeping to dream.  Rocking the deep sleep.  Rocking out with Adam Ant apparently.  There has to be something more to that, so if anyone has any theories, but all means….Bring.  It.  On.  (Which happens to be a Broadway show that is also like sushi to me, and that fact alone probably means it will be raging success.  Though I thought Ghost: The Musical was a crap idea and that ones already announced it closing. Farewell pottery wheel.  I’m unchaining that memory for good.)

And in an effort to get that one out of your head, try this….

Looking for the life imbalance!

I can’t even count how many times I’ve heard people say how all they want is work/life balance.  But if it’s a balance….on a day-to-day work week basis, then what you’re saying is equal time at work and life. Which would mean 12 hours of work.  12 hours of life.  And, call me crazy (been called worse!) but I’m looking for waaaaaaay more LIFE.  I’m looking for the imbalance.  And for the scales to tip to life.

I’m barely two months into the new job and I have say I’m loving it.  Now I can’t actually talk about it much because that’s just how it is, which I feel like that kind of makes me sound like I have some really cool Secret Agent life, but I don’t.  I’m definitely not that cool.  But if I was would I really tell you?  Don’t think so.  So maybe I am.  So not.

Alas…the new not-as-cool-as-being-Sidney-Bristow-job is totally crazy and busy and running around and meeting tons of people and random travelling and working hard and days going by in a blink and chaos and figuring stuff out and breaking it down and building it up and digging into all sorts of stuff. It’s wonderful and exhausting and challenging and as with any new job sucking a lot of time out of my life.  But isn’t it always that way?  But again…not complaining….too much! 

And happy work makes me want to go out more and let the happiness continue.  And I’ve made some fab work friends that I like to go out with. And old work friends. (Don’t miss the job, but man how I miss a few of the people!)  And some nights I just want to walk home and decompress and be all about me. (I’m very good at that.)  But the scales are tipping back and forth….too much work….too much play….never enough housework…..God, isn’t *that* an ugly word that makes me sound like a driveling old lady….staying home in my muumuu to do some housework.  More like studiowork, but no lie….sometimes keeping not-quite-six-hundred-square-feet clean….also a challenge.  Doesn’t help that my closet door is still hanging my a thread….all that work….closet door is literally out of balance.

So how do you keep it all straight? How do you have a career that demands so much of you and still give all you can to your life?  Still feed all the other things that make you happy….that make you tick….that might even make you crazy….if you’re spending all that time clucking away at work. Or bringing work home.  

When I was you and naïve I used to be so excited to borrow our office laptop and BRING WORK HOME. It was like I’d finally made it.  Like I was finally important enough to be one of those people who was crucial to the operations that I had so much work to do I actually took it with me. Kind of like when I got a beeper.  I really thought I was the shit.  But every time I went off I had to find a payphone. LOL. That was fun at a bar at 1 a.m. on a Friday night.  I was so awful when I was on call in those days.

And these days…you guessed it….looking for the balance.  I want to write more. I want to be out and about more. The costume exhibit is almost over again at the Met and there’s no way I’m waiting until the last weekend to go like I did last year with McQueen.  So worth it, but EPIC 90 minutes in line.  That wasn’t easy.  And I want to see my peeps more.  And have downtime. And Bliss time.  And moi time.  And catch up on TV (I STILL need to wax on about that). And finish the book on my nightstand which I have dusted off since last I wrote and have less than 100 pages to go, but must keep reading to get myself ready for the new Emily Giffin next Tuesday.  CAN’T.  WAIT.

So for now….life….work….work….little life….work….work conference for two days….hopefully little more life.  We’ll see how it all shakes out.  Total Libra…perpetually looking for that balance in everything I do.  And when I’m out of balance I do get thrown and don’t always handle it great….I don’t do the extremes well….though okay, so maybe that’s a bit of a social white lie….I can do extremes.  It’s more when I don’t have time to decompress or figure out how to balance (there’s that damn word again) the stress or find an outlet for it that I go kind of bonkers.  That I probably become less fun to be around. Or if I’m stressed and ranting (and probably drinking) I can sometimes be fun to be around.  Maybe?  Yes?  No?  Perhaps I just think I’m fun.  Anyone?  Bueller? 

I’m rambling. As usual.  

So, for anyone keeping up with my writing life….when I'm having the time of MY life.....

(and yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, I know....I'm plugging Green Day and BJA and all that, but it's my blog and I love this song!)

So....the writing life.....I am about 76K words into the summary of The Legacy (out of 95K words…so that’s some serious progress.)  I’ve identifying some holes.  Coming up with some new ideas. Decided some things that need to be cut.  Where it’s just kind of snoozy.  And where I’m actually pretty proud of what I’ve written. 

But I’ve also officially hit the point where I know I need to rewrite a whole chunk and I’m not sure what the new storyline will be so I’m road blocked/writers blocked.  But when I can shift the balance back to writing life, I’m going to try to push through and keep on going.  As soon as I finish my work from work.  And rebook the appointment at Bliss I cancelled because I don’t have to go.  And call the contractor about my closet.  And vacuum.  And probably about ten other things that I can’t even think of because I’m fried.

Cheers to imbalance!  In the direction of LIFE!

....in a nutshell....