Crazy Cat Lady

In my collegiate career, I have done a lot of research on dreams and dream interpretation for various speeches or projects. Some people dream vividly, some only in black and white. Some people can't remember their dreams at all. But everyone dreams.

I almost always remember my dreams. And if don't remember the dream content, I can usually remember the tone of the dream as it sometimes contributes to my mood of the day. I always dream in color, and sometimes I dream in two languages. My dreams are very detailed and sometimes very bizzare. It's probably a hint of my insanity.

More often than not, I wish that I didn't have this ability. The only type of dream I like is a lucid dream, where we are in control of what happens. (Well, I like daydreaming too, but that's a completely different animal.) But so many times I wish I could just forget everything I dreamt the night before.

There are several reasons why. I'll start with the most obvious: nightmares. I've never been the type to enjoy being scared. I'm not a big fan of the Knott's Halloween Haunt. I don't ever like going to scary movies. So why would I enjoy being scared in my sleep? And not only that, it disrupts my sleep. Sometimes I'll wake up as a result of a nightmare and not be able to go to sleep for hours. It sucks.

Sometimes I'll dream about dead relatives. They'll either be suffering through their terminal illness all over again in the dream, or they'll be alive and well and very much a part of my life. These dreams are always so realistic. Then I wake up and am depressed for much of the day. It's a reminder that they aren't here anymore and it brings back all the pain and sadness from when they died. Not fun.

Then finally, I'll have done my best to get over something in my life, almost completely forget about it (or should I say, him) and all of a sudden it's the subject of a dream. I'll be on my best behavior to not focus on the subject or person, then I'll finally get to a point where it's no longer a fixation and BAM, it's back, weighing on my mind. A minor example of this is dieting. I'll be doing awesome with watching what I eat, then sometimes I'll dream all night about brownies with mint frosting or ice cream sundaes. Or I'll have finally realized that whatever guy I'm crazy about is not into me and he'll be out of my thoughts, when along comes a dream where he calls me up and can't live without me. I really hate that.

I wish there was a way where I could lucid dream all the time, or just not remember my dreams at all. It certainly would help me to be in a better mood on a lot of days.

Your thoughts??

-because when I go to the grocery store, I dig down to the fourth or fifth shopping basket because I think that more people have put their filthy hands all over the first few?

-because I try to use the edge of my sleeve to cover the handle of said basket?

-because when I was 15, I stood out on a busy road waiting for my ex-boyfriend to drive by on his way to work so that I could hold up a sign that says, "I miss you, Aaron"?

-because I am overly excited about my own mailbox, phone extension, cubicle (properly titled by the staff as "the penalty box"), and morganstanley.com email address?

-because I often eat the border of a candy bar first before going for the nougaty (sp?) center?

-because I laugh when children fall down?

-because I still have my favorite "Gotcha" sweatshirt from the seventh grade, despite the several large holes in it?

-because I just spent five minutes looking for the sweatshirt to verify it was indeed "Gotcha" and not "Rusty"?

-because I like the "Milkshake" song?

-because I kept the first voicemail the CPLP sent me for about a month and listened to it about 4 times a week just so I could hear his adorable accent? ("Hallo, almoost, aboot")

-because I used to make my cat dress up in my Cabbage Patch Kid and Teddy Ruxpin clothes?

-because I spent over 4 years believing a guy really cared about me when it was insanely obvious he didn't?

-because I once called my mom a dildo not knowing what it really was, then when my dad overheard me and was going to make me to look it up in the dictionary, I told him it's not a real word, I made it up?

-because I now know what a dildo is, and gave mine a name?

-because I read the Sunday ads in a very specific order and get pissed if my mom spoils what is in the ad? (Target is always last because it's my favorite).

-because I get super, super (not just super but super super) irritated when people either a) go slow inthe carpool lane or b) cross over the double line in the carpool lane?

-because when I was 14, I used to talk my then best friend's dad into driving 5 miles out of the way so I could go by the guy I liked's house to see if he was outside or in his front window? (Snaps to Dave Proulx for those several times of wasted gas.)

-because I wanna yak when I see a gas-guzzling, environment-killing, terrorist-supporting Suburban with a "soccer mom" sticker? (It's what it represents, people. And what is that? What I never want to be. PS- If I ever, ever have a "soccer mom" sticker on my vehicle of choice (and I'm pretty sure it won't be a mini-van or suburban), this is my statement authorizing you to shoot me in the head twice.)

-because when I see an animal laying in the gutter, if there is no obvious sign of severe wouding, I try to tell myself that the animal is just sleeping?

-because I think Doug from "Trading Spaces" is hot? (Though for the record I would never let any of those freaks, except Vern, lay a finger on my house.)

So now that you know all this, do you still want to admit you're my friend?

Get the F***ing warranty.


Especially if you have a POS car.

Last night while crusin' the net, I became about 95% sure as to the reason why the Canadian didn't call. And while I'm not completely positive that this is the reason he didn't call, I'm sure enough to know, for once, that it wasn't me. Now, yes, it would have been nice for him to have called so I knew for sure. However, if the reason I think he didn't call is really the real the reason he didn't call, then I don't know that I would be calling me at this time either. Yes, it's confusing, but there is a point.....

Ladies - contrary to the single girl's popular belief (sit down for this, because it may come as a shock) but - there are decent guys out there!!!!! And for someone like me to admit that, well, then you know there must be some merit to it. It seems that here in America, the only decent guys I've come across are gay and married (and even the some of the marrieds are questionable). But believe it or not, there are guys out there who are completely awesome. Case in point - the Canadian Professional Lacrosse player.

Now, there is a very slight chance that the reason he didn't call has to do with the fact that he possesses a Y chromosome, causing him to do inconsiderate or obnoxious things. But for the short time that I was able to get to know him, he showed me no poor qualities that are usually displayed to me within the first 15 minutes of meeting a guy. He was, again, the cat's meow. And so, I am inclined to think otherwise.

So for all of you out there who thought that I was doomed to a life of regarding men through Alanis Morissette colored glasses - rejoice! I am hopeful for my romantic future for the first time in my life. And it's all thanks to a Canadian.

People/Things I miss:

-Playing bike tag with my neighbors until the street lights came on
-Farrell's
-The Halloween serpentine at school
-Eileen Davidson as Kristen/Susan on Days of our Lives
-The short-lived cartoon, Beverly Hills Teens
-My grandmas, cousin Jennie, Uncle Everett, Uncle Chuck, Aunt Bea, Uncle Larry, Aunt Char. I think if you often.
-Glueing quarters outside of the Donna Nieman Salon and Day Spa with Erica and watching people go for it. Then one day finding my boss had pried it up with a putty knife and put it in the register.
-Going to the Underground Pub at CSUF between classes, then filling up a water cup with our booze of choice and going back to class.
-Taking our 1986 Toyota Tercel at high speeds with Robert and the gang over the "Dips" in Christmas Light neighborhood in Chino
-Going to Red Robin after football games
-Cheering at football games
-Phil Hartman
-Wheelbarrow rides at Easter
-Toilet papering houses
-Making drip-sand castles with Stacey, Courtney and Tigerbeast
-The Red Clover in Aix-en-Provence
-All ASB privileges and activities
-My 85 Jetta
-Frequent trips to happy hour at BJ's and Rockin' Taco
-Playing drinking games on the terrace of the Foyer International d'Etudiants in Paris (as well as at the Red Clover)
-Going on stalking missions with friends to find out if their boyfriends were lying to them
-My cat, Spooky and hamster, Colby
-Birthday parties at Bullwinkle's
-The CPLP
-The 1996 World Series
-Passing notes in class
-Competing with friends to acquire the most Babysitter's Club books
-Doing baseball stats and secretly lusting after a new player (or coach) every week
-My treehouse
-The time Erica and I used left over human hair to violate a poster of J-Lo
-Buying large quantities of Lemonheads and inflating the price to make money off the rich kids in elementary school
-Mr. Russell's marine biology class
-Going through my sister's hope chest
-All my friends from last summer in France. Vous me manque beaucoup.
-My receptionist job at the Donna Nieman Salon and Day Spa
-Making fun of all the PR snobs with my girls, Randi, Shelli and Stephanie during Comm Week 2001
-The Six Mile Summer Hike with Michelle to Ryan Highstreet's house
-Meeting B-list celebrities during my internship on the talk show, Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus
-Going to the Backstage bar across from Sony Pictures every Thursday after a hard day of interning on Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus
-Tricia's tuna fish sandwiches
-My summer working in a Washington state logyard
-The carefree days of a simpler life with a promising future as a dolphin trainer

Real World Trishelle - You so deserved to go home tonight. Here's why:

1. You annoy the hell out of me.
2. You pussed out on a pepper-eating contest. C'MON!!! It's not like it was pig nuts or a horse's bile duct. It was peppers, you pussy. You seem like you barely even tried.
3. You broke up with the Miz and then kissed five other guys the same day (Darrell: Not one, not two, not three, not four, FIVE)
4. You broke up with the Miz. Period. The Miz is awesome. You are not.
5. You got pissed at the Miz for talking to other girls, when YOU are the slut who broke up with him.
6. You told people on your team you were going to beat their ass, and then wondered why in the hell you were voted into the Inferno.
7. You tried to blame Coral for your stupidity.
8. Julie thinks you are cool, so that says something about your credibility.
9. You had sex with Steven which, the thought alone, makes me want to puke up my Lean Pocket.
10. Had you stayed in the camp you would have hooked up with every guy (and every willing girl) and spread your vile disease around.

So Real World Trishelle - Adieu, adieu. Parting is such sweet sorrow. And praise Jesus I won't be seeing your face on a MTV promo tomorrow.

To Holly W. - For being the best VD date anyone could ask for

To Melanie - For reading this crap, and then listening to more of it over the phone

To Najib - For assigning us to watch "La Reine Margot" with a lot of hot ass French actors with full frontal nudity (but the several thousand gallons of blood I could have done without)

To MetroBorder, LLC - For creating the "Melon Madness" margarita for On the Border to serve to it's customers

To Tom Lewis (my former boss) - for the free Melon Madness margarita

To my former co-workers at On the Border - for hanging out and drinking several Melon Madness margaritas with me

To John Hannah - for having a very sexy Scottish accent

To Michelle - For the invite to the Sex and the City finale party, and shout out in advance for all of the free Cosmos I will be consuming.

To Helen Fielding - For so accurately portraying what I will be like in my 30's in your book, Bridget Jones's Diary

To Jon Favreau - For so accurately capturing what I am like right now in Swingers. I'm so money and I don't even know it.

To Wienerschnitzel - For mini-corn dogs

To God - For creating Sundays, so that I could lay around on my can all day and watch NCAA Women's Gymnastics and Four Weddings and Funeral

So I just write my last post like 5 minutes ago. Then I go to the garage to get the clean clothes out of the dryer that I'm going to wear tonight to go out drinking. Then I go into my room to change into them. I glance at my dresser, and there stands a small flower arrangement. The card reads: To Kristy Love, Dad.

I really hate myself sometimes.

My father is such a great person. He does so much for others and takes very little time for himself.

Today he comes home with a beautiful flower arrangement for my mom. And instead of saying how nice that is, I say, "Oh God, I think I'm gonna yak." So, with a disappointed look on his face he goes, "Why would you say something like that?" And I take my left pointer finger, wipe it on my right arm, then taste it and reply, "Yup, bitter."

Now, I had just sent out a batch of "Valentine's Day" cards that read:

"VD - Give your loved one something they'll never forget. Be my anti-valentine."

Perhaps had he come home at a different time, I might have been a little nicer. But I was feeling a little snarky.

However, this is no excuse. That was a bitchy thing for me to say, and I feel awful. And when I see my dad, I plan to fully apologize. It's not fair for me to take my misery out on such a genuinely compassionate person. My friends are another story. They can shake my remarks like that off. But I feel so pathetic for cutting down my dad. Not cool, Grauer. Not cool.

But hey, baby steps into adulthood. Someday I'll be mature. And sane, if I'm lucky.

Thanks to those of you who have said mean things about my most recent love interest (see below). Normally this brings me great pleasure. There is, however, one slight difference between him (we'll call him the Canadian) and all the rest. He was actually a decent human being. We're talking everything I like wrapped into one - considerate, funny, polite, hot, athletic, talented (take that last one however you like). He was never concerned with himself, only with others, and always a genuine pleasure to be around. I mean, the first night we hung out with him was his birthday and he's trying to still buy us drinks. He kept refusing to let us treat him. Then after we left his hotel room, the Canadian could have gone straight to bed because he had a crack of dawn flight, but instead waited up another 45 minutes to call and make sure we got home alright.

There were only two small things wrong with him:
1) He lives in another country
2) He obviously didn't like me as much as I liked him.
And those are things he can't even help. Which makes this one hard to get over, because at least with all the others I liked, they had a**hole qualities that provided me with fuel to recover. But this one only (as far as I knew) had great qualities. So earlier when I said I cried and "got over" him........well, not so much. I did all the things that I thought would help speed my recovery - took the Anaheim Storm sticker off my folder, the magnet of their schedule off the fridge, deleted the link to his picture on the website, etc etc. But almost a week later and I'm still pining. Ugh. What the hell is my problem?

And yes, for those of you reading this, I know you're thinking - why the f*** are you liking a guy who lives so far away (again)? Because, as most of you may know, the last three I've been somewhat emotionally attached to have lived, at the very least, 1400 miles away from me. And no, this is not done intentionally. It's just happened that way. But with the Canadian, I knew that I was gonna have to let go of him at some point. I was just hoping that would be later than sooner. Because to me it was worth having to do that in order to spend time with him for the next couple of months, not to mention spending time with the other players - also very cool guys, and going to the games - which were very fun. I think it hurts most knowing the possibility that I won't see him (or any of them) again.

Now if I wanted to, I could try calling to find out what happened. But no. I'm not going to be that girl. I used to be that girl. I'm not going to be that girl anymore. There's nothing that drives me more crazy than not knowing. Honesty can be tough sometimes, but I would prefer to know where I stand, ya know? But I'm not going to call someone who does not want to talk to me for some reason or another. In high school, I was the girl that, even though all the signs were there that he wasn't into me, kept pestering him anyway. I hate high school Kristy in that aspect. So instead of calling him (just in case his phone got nuked and lost my number and he accidentally deleted my email address, having no means of contacting me) I will just sit here and be content with airing my thoughts to random readers on the internet. It is, I have to admit, very cathartic. It's aiding me in the healing process. And once I have this behind me, I'll work on moving towards becoming a normal adult, and moving away from unhealthy, insane, irrational thoughts. For now, I must get to bed. Big day tomorrow. And if it goes well, I'll tell you all about it.

Who am I kidding? You're gonna hear about it regardless.

To Stacey - for telling the meaning of "pussilanimity."

To Michelle - for the job lead.

To Randi - for Turd Ferguson.

To Silhouette Brands Inc. - for the Skinny Cow low-fat ice cream sandwich

To my mom - for everything.

To Steven Moffat - for your brilliant Britcom and making me laugh out loud.

To David Sedaris - for capturing so humorously the frustrations of learning the French language in your book, Me Talk Pretty One Day.

To God - for another day on this earth.

To Ahnold - for my $94 VLF (but no thanks to whoever decided that my car needs a smog check this year).

To Roger Lodge - for being hot and entertaining me with the craziness of the dating population.

To Mavis Beacon - for teaching me typing.

To Kristi - for the bottle of Hypnotiq that I have yet to enjoy, as well as the "lipstick" that I also have yet to enjoy.

To my dad - also, for everything. And for doing my taxes.

To my cat - for always being there when I need a paw to cry on.

To the Dave Matthews Band - for providing the soundtrack to many meaningful moments in my life.

To the French lady in Nice who married her dead boyfriend - for making me realize that my love life really isn't so bad after all.

To Jan - for doing a fabulous job on my hair once again.

And in an effort to be positive,
To me - for working hard (although it doesn't seem like I'm accomplishing that as we speak) and pursuing my goals inspite of the seemingly difficult and intimidating road ahead.

1. Finish reading about Joan of Arc and the 100 years War for my French Civilization class, then cry about how very little I can understand ("pusillanimite" is the French word for pusillanimity. Can anyone please tell me what the F*** PUSILLANIMITY IN ENGLISH MEANS?????), then once again question my decision to spend several thousand dollars and three more years in school so that I can teach high school kids the French language.

2. Work on some cover letters and apply for jobs that I don't really want but need in order to finance my need to get the hell out of my parents house as well as the several cavities I have and would like to have taken care of.

3. Practice my typing utilizing Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing version 12. Because that BS about using this blog to practice typing on the right keys was, well, BS.

I have a to-do list a mile long and am slowly working to get tasks crossed off. For example, here are some of the things I did today:

1. My phonetics homework, which only took me an hour and a half this time versus two hours for last week's.

2. Planted my sweet pea seedlings which will bring me great pleasure when they bloom in 6-8 weeks.

3. Cried and got over the most recent love interest (the Canadian Professional Lacrosse player). Convinced myself that the reason he didn't call is NOT because:

a. He left his cell phone in Canada by accident, thus not being able to call me due to my number being stored in it.
b. He was in some kind of accident or his flight was cancelled due to weather storms in Toronto. (I know this because I watched the game on Fox Sports Net and he is alive and well in Sunny SoCal.)
c. He knew they were going to lose this game (which they did) and was too embarrassed to face me.

No, the reason he didn't call is, as Berger from Sex and the City would say....
He just wasn't that into me. End of story. Which sucks because even though he was only visiting So Cal for the duration of the season, I enjoyed his company immensly. Not to mention the fact that I thought he was the cat's meow.

4. Suckered my dad into doing my taxes for me. I'll be the one who files them, but he became the bearer of good news by figuring out what I was going to get back.

5. Did my Advanced Conversation homework, which was to pick 2 personal photos and prepare to tell the class what's so freaking special about them. Mine are:
a. A picture of me sitting on the edge of the Seine river in Paris - represents a time in my life when I was truly happy.
b. A picture of my beautiful garden - representing something in my life that makes me truly happy.

But alas, I must be off to procrastinate in other ways. Las Vegas is on. I wish I were there now.

The last thing I need right now is another forum to keep me from doing actual productive work. The way I will justify this is by vowing to post only by typing with my fingers on the correct keys. And man do I need the practice. But hey, 30 wpm and counting.