Reality Check

So, after a craptastic day, I was just sitting here at home, enjoying a lovely game of solitaire (seriously I have no life) when I here a large boom outside. Well, across the street from my backyard is a military graveyard. I see people around the grandstand, and see soldiers lining up to shoot another volley. And I'm standing in my backyard in my socks, still in work uniform with tears in my eyes because while life sucks on occasion, it could be so much worse. I could know that soldier, it could be me in the grave, or I could be one of the ones standing over a loved ones' grave not able to share a laugh again.

So, I'm standing there in my socks, paying my respects from under my walnut tree, when I notice that some of the "mourners" are in t-shirts and shorts. Which struck me as odd, obviously, but this is southern Indiana and there could be any number of reasons why this is. I then notice one of the "mourners" in an antebellum dress with an umbrella over her head, even though it is ninety degrees and the sun is blaring. So I take a closer look at the soldiers and realize they are wearing period uniforms, specifically from the Civil War. And it hits me that this is just some historical mock up of a funeral. And I'm ticked off.

Now I realize that the world marches on, and those that don't know their history are doomed to repeat it, but there are enough new graves in that particular graveyard. The last row keeps moving toward me with no sign of stopping and I'm baffled. If these people wanted to "experience" a military funeral, I'm pretty sure they would see the real thing entirely too soon. I guess I have a hard time understanding why they need to view a historical funeral, when not 20 feet from their chairs is someone who was buried within the last year.

I keep thinking I need to do something noble with my life, but I'm so disillusioned by what I see, I'm not sure I can discern what noble is anymore.

The point again?

I have to agree with Jack, but please don't tell him I've been checking out his blog, that it is liberating to know that you aren't really writing for an audience, that mainly you are writing to keep yourself sane. Or vent. Or because those state ordered hobbies aren't really working out.

My life hasn't been any more interesting in the last few days. Although I swear I've gained four pounds because I oouldn't stop eating. In fact, I had a huge meal at Qdoba today, my absolute favorite fast (well it isn't really a sit down restaurant is it?) food joint, seconded by my guilty pleasure of Jack in the Box. In fact, when my parents were here a couple of weeks ago, they made sure to grab some tacos and poppers for me. Mainly because I'm a loser, but hey, that's already been spelled out. Digressing again. Anyway, even though I had this huge meal, (burrito and chips and salsa) my mouth was still hungry. I didn't go get anything, but it made me fidgety for the rest of the afternoon.

Of course, I'm dreaming about food as well. I'm not sure how many are familiar with the Food Network show, Good Eats, but he recently had a rerun where he was talking about the uses of tortillas, and was showing how to make nachos. It was really cool, he made this tier of nachos, and of course, loving food the way I do, I've been wanting to get my hands on some racks like that so I could do the same. I haven't really began looking, but all I could dream last night was these damn pans, floating out of my reach, or going to the store to buy some and they were all too small.

Now I recognize that there are a lot more serious problems to be had, but this is bugging me. My dreams are just taking a wierd turn. And not just my dreams, but my day dreams as well. Maybe I should just buy a guitar on the cheap to prove to myself that I can't play.

In other news, I watched several movies this weekend, including, The Queen, The Holiday and Stranger than Fiction. The last was, by far, the best, which tells what a film connisseur I am not. The concept is very cool though, and I don't think that Will Ferrell did a bad job with it. Not what I thought it was going to be, but still enjoyable. The last line said something about if you have a man who knows he is going to die and still takes the risk, isn't that a man you want to keep around.

Of course that made me think about what I'm doing with my life, and is it enough. I can stay in my house and eat until I'm as big as the house, but it doesn't really do anything for anyone. So I went to Operation Stars and Stripes to see if there was anything I could do. I volunteered to be a pen pal, and will probably send money or an entire care package, but I still feel pretty damn useless. I need to find something around here.

Either way, it wraps up another secluded weekend. I need to gather the kats and go to sleep. Work again tomorrow. Fun fun fun

Blues in the bedroom

I've been dreaming in sitcoms again. This is a fairly disturbing trend I noticed a few years back, when I was dreaming in "Friends" sequences fairly regularly. Needless to say I stopped watching the show for a few years and tried to find a life of my own. I found the life, and then promptly returned it as defective a year or so later. Of course, by then the warranty was done and the store didn't want to have anything to do with me unless I got a new life.

But I digress. Last night I dreamt my house was flooding, and I had to get my cats out, but I was also worried about friends that I couldn't find, including, don't ask why but Jennifer Love Hewitt and that gorgeous guy that plays her husband on the ghost show, Andre Braugher, I'm not even sure what he is on right now, and Vincent D'Onofrio. Hello wierd world. The worst part is that I couldn't get the cats together in enough time, and the water was closing in. I woke up in enough time, but after a few minutes, rolled back over into the same dream, with some different players and a dolls head that spoke to me.
Geez, I hate dolls.

Meanwhile, work sucks. The person I thought would be fired before I would, has been so now my stomach turns everytime I think of the job. In fact, I'm going in for a few hours today just because the boss is coming in this week and I want to make an impression. Hopefully this will be a good one. My resume isn't going anywhere, and I want to believe that the universe will step in with the right job, but I'm starting to get nervous. I just want out of the job, I stopped enjoying myself and it seems so wrong to stay when I hate it.

However, on positive notes, I finally painted the second bedroom the color green that I really like. It is a soft green from Ace, Winwood Spring, B33-2. Of course, the painting has been an ordeal anyway, because I went out to pick up some paint from Home Depot (friendly people there!) and ended up with this awful color, Spirit Whisper. Oops. Bright and loud, I had to paint over the damn thing. I'll give Ace its credit, the color worked out well, even though he had mixed it by hand and made me nervous. Now I have to decide how I'm going to decorate.

I've been daydreaming lately that I was blinded in some sort of worker's accident and after settling with the company, I sat around at home and taught myself the guitar and started playing the blues. I daydream that I'm pretty good, my voice improves dramatically (because believe me when I tell you no one wants to hear me sing) and I go to local clubs with sunglasses and a fedora (because apparently I will look better in hats if I'm blind as well, probably because I can't see myself?) and play a little on amateur nights, eventually working my way into practicing with bands, individuals wanting to play with me on a regular basis, inviting me out, etc. How awful is my life now if I'm daydreaming that being blind is better?

I need to be a better friend and call mine, but all I really want to do with my time off is watch sad movies and cry. I need to get out into the sun. Maybe Koko will cheer me up.

Just as a side note for Vincent D'Onofrio fans, Happy Accidents is pretty damn good movie. Just a random thought.