An Ode to My Unconscious

I sometimes dream. Perhaps, I always dream and I only sometimes remember my dreams. Either way, those times I do recall my REM experiences, boy, are they spectacular.

In my psychological anthroplogy class we were required to read a bit of Freud. During that time I was also required to keep a dream journal. The dreams I recorded therein were not the best I have to offer. But they were a good sampling platter of how my unconscious makes no sense whatsoever. I think I've actually since misplaced that journal (or it's tightly packed away somewhere just like all my other latent thoughts and desires), but I do have a running list of my top 5 in my head at all times, disclosed below.

Disclaimer: Most of these involve random famous people whom I have never met, or even care to meet (or so I thought....)

1. Back in the day, sans children and pre-Sinead O'Connor hair, Britney Spears made an appearance in one of my dreams (which I actually tend to categorize as more of a premonition, but let's move on). I was attending a Press Conference put on by Ms. Spears and her mother, who was her manager. Her mother was proceeding to tell us that in order to revamp Britney's trashy image, she was going to have two children out of wedlock, by two different men. Of course, we in the press were like "Huh?" Suffice it to say that Britney did go on to have two children, though not out of wedlock nor by different men, but still. This proves my gift. If only I can harness this gift and turn it into something worthwhile.

2. Next, I was once married to the rapper Eminem. I recall going on tour with him and hanging out with his daughter Haley who was my step daughter. His ex-wife Kim was also tagging along. The best part was that Eminem and I, though married, slept in separate twin beds just like Lucy and Ricky. See, my dreams are even G-rated! My grandma would be proud.

3. Another time I hung out with my old pal, Jack Nicholson. And by old I mean cause he's old. But as part of a seeming routine, we met up at a playground to hang out. This was not just any playground however. This was a playground built for adults. Everything was to scale for adults. But it still closely resembled the old wooden playground at my elementary school which was full of nooks and crannies to crawl through. Fantastic.

4. I once was set to fight Darth Vader. What was even more bizarre was that it was taking place in a cultural hall stage/gymnasium at an LDS church building. There was a cargo net suspended over the stage which was what we were supposed to climb across to fight - with light sabers, of course. This seemed wholly unfair to me since I am not a skilled light saberer nor a cargo net climber. I was upset I didn't have time to practice, so I ended up skipping out and hiding in a janitor's closet. I am not ashamed cause I think it was just an unfair match to begin with...moving on.

5. Just a couple days ago, I dreamt I was babysitting a red headed boy of about 7 years old. He had this amazing head of rich, wavy auburn hair. The weird part for me was that we were laying in the meadow that used to be behind my house growing up until they built a house there. It was a nice spring day and I guess we were just watching clouds or something. There was a cameo by one of the cavemen from the Geico commericals that walked by. Then I turned to this boy, during our alleged heart to heart and said, "You've got some great hair. Just promise me you won't become Carrot Top, ok??" Best advice I've ever given.

I can't wait to go to sleep tonight....

Freaks flock together. And we flock to the freaks.

I love Cirque du Soleil. This last time I went though, I couldn't help thinking about it as a freak show. It's full of contortionists, trapeze swingers, gravity defying crazy people, tightrope walkers, stilt walkers and catapultists*. In the words of Arrested Development, these are not "everyday people." I don't even know how one becomes a suitable candidate for the Cirque. I mean I knew people who took gymnastics growing up, but as far as I recall, there weren't any contortionist classes around. Cause c'mon, if there were I totally would have signed up.

Now, granted, I've never been to an actual freak show. And really I'm quite certain freak shows really don't exist anymore (something to do with being all P.C. and for human rights and what not...Psh). Now I get that the Cirque performers do not have freakish body deformities or other oddities. We're not going to Cirque du Soleil to stare at the bearded lady or the albino twins as it was with the side shows of the past. But I can't help but wonder if these Cirque performers are also somewhat of "outsiders" as well. They perform such unique and sometimes bizarre feats that most people wouldn't even dream of doing. They spend their days practicing balancing on top of a tower of 18 chairs or doing a flip on stilts off a catapult while I and many other people sit at a desk/computer for 8 or more hours a day. For them, the norm is bicycles on tightropes and clowns and juggling while dancing in shiny silver disco ball-like pants and riding unicycles with a girl pretzel-ing around one's face. I also imagine all the performers having crazy bonfires together in their spare time and instead of mingling at someone's house party talking of politics and The Hills, they have crazy break dance fights and contests to see who can juggle the most turkeys while bouncing on a trampoline.

Really, I think the freaks have got it all figured out. At $80 and up per person for the Cirque and sold out shows all over, these freaks are laughing at US all the way to the bank. And I am more than just a wee bit jealous.


* I'm making these names up.

Disclaimer: I mean "freaks" in the loving/carefree sense of the word.

Graham, Bam, Thank You Ma'am!

About 5 weeks ago, I started a new job (Huzzah!). My previous workplace was wacky and chaotic and claustrophobic - I only had 5 coworkers. Alas, there are things I kinda miss about that wacky establishment. Let me first describe my one coworker, Graham. Nice guy. But he definitely lives in Quirky Town, Population: 1.

Highlights of his quirkitude, mostly involving food:

1. Made his own cheese. He would bring it in a small Mason jar and would eat it off a knife.

2. Big into the raw food movement. Believes food, i.e. meat and milk, is best left untouched because when you cook it, it changes the molecular structure and thereby changes how your body absorbs it and the nutrients that are leftover. Thus and so, he owned a share in a cow at a farm in Winchester, VA in order to obtain raw milk, which apparently is illegal in VA unless done the aforementioned way. He would bring this milk to work in Mason jars (pattern?)...sometimes he even drank the milky run off from the curdled cheese he made in #1. (As an aside, one time he had a jar of Emeril's Garlic Spaghetti sauce that he put on all his food, although never on any pasta substance of any sort....when he finished the jar - you may want to grab a paper bag - he rinsed it and proceeded to drink the sauce tinged water).
3. Because I was a runner, he assumed I ate healthy foods. This is completely false. Give me pizza, or give me death. Yet he proceeded to bring me samples of fermented beets and manna bread, which I did try (and promptly spit out). He also took the time to dog ear pages for me in a 1000 page book about how raw foods are good for you. One of my favorite passages mentioned a "study" done in Alaska whereupon some "scientist" found that when Eskimos feed their sled dogs raw meat, it makes them run faster and longer than if they feed them cooked meat. But dogs also eat poop. I am not a dog. Moving on.

4. He brought me a pamphlet that appeared to be circa 1986 about a special herbal yeast supplement called Bio-Strath. Developed by Swiss scientists, it allegedly can boost your immune system, give you more energy, and overall just make you stronger. All with just a droplet on your tongue! He really sold it to me when he said: "I've really noticed a difference in my energy when I run to catch the bus every morning." Look at this happy Swiss family!! YAY!!

5. He always came into work around 11am or noon and would stay til 7 or 8pm. He was somewhat of a workaholic and didn't like to take breaks or spend money on food. So he often came by and would ask me if he could eat some of my snacks. I generally had crackers and or some chips to snack on at the office. So after a couple times of asking me, he decided he could just eat them after I left for the day. On multiple occasions I came in to find an empty cracker box with a note "Will replace -G" (Exhibit A*). Sure enough he did replace the food he ate. Though sometimes, he wouldn't replace them with the same thing. Instead of my usual crackers, he got me Ginger Snaps. Those were pretty good. However, he would often eat the entire bag in one night before I even had a chance to eat one. So then he'd replace with more ginger snaps. A vicious cycle. It was probably his plan all along to just buy me food he would want to eat. But seriously, an entire bag of Ginger Snaps in one evening? Egads. EXHIBIT A*

It is to Graham I owe for some good, nay GREAT stories I've told. I have yet to find a suitable Dwight Schrute-esque replacement like him. Le sigh.

OH! So you DON'T like Bush. I couldn't tell...

A comedian once quipped that he liked bumper stickers only cause it saved him the time of wondering if he would ever be friends with that person. I couldn't agree more. Apologies to all of you out there who subscribe to this phenomenon of bumper tagging. But I'm not really talking about just one bumper sticker. Even two might be acceptable. It's really those who enter into bumper sticker hyper-obsessive stratus that concern me. Oh and those who choose the really crazy outlandish and or somewhat controversial bumper stickers. These little stickers really can pack a punch.

Case and Point:

To clarify:
1. I don't hate America, I just hate YOU!
2. At least in Vietnam, Bush had an exit strategy
3. If you're not outraged, you're not paying attention
4. Dissent is the highest form of Patriotism
5. F the President
6. F the MPAA
7. F the RIAA
8. "There ought to be limits to freedom." - G.W. Bush

I'm going to go out on a limb and say that I sense anger here. Talk about road rage.

Now, I enjoy scuba diving. I do. I've been on several trips diving. where the sole purpose is scuba. But yet somehow I don't feel the need, as the driver of a Nissan Maxima I saw the other day felt, to display his obsessive, borderline irrational love for scuba diving. He actually thought, (and I paraphrase) "Four stickers on my back windshield commenting on my love for Scuba and showing the Scuba flag are not ENOUGH! I need MORE!!" So more he got. These ones made claims about his love of Scuba over his wife, as if we needed reiteration on what his TRUE passion may be.


Then there's the Jesus fans. These are more prevalent than I thought. Many a time at a stoplight I have been contemplating the words to a Mariah Carey song when BAM! I see this:


This makes continuing to listen to "Touch My Body" a tad bit awkward.


Lastly (although I could go on and on about Vanity plates and other car paraphernalia), I don't understand this:Does posting this make people drive any more cautious around you? I can only hope that if I'm spinning out of control, doing 360's on the freeway at 80 mph in a failed attempt to avoid hitting a tree limb in the roadway, that I can miraculously swerve away from your Dodge Stratus and protect you and your child. Safety first, folks.

An Asian Swedish Massage.

Yesterday was my aunt's birthday. Next Saturday is my birthday. So we decided we'd get massages and pedis to celebrate. As background, my aunt discovered this small nail/waxing/massage parlor that just opened in Merrifield. She took my grandma to get a pedicure there once and got hooked. So then she took me. I got hooked. The funny thing is I nor my aunt have ever been manicure/pedicure type people. There's just something Cheers-esque about this place that keeps us coming back. As an aside, I've always wanted to frequent a place often enough so that they would know me by name and I could order "the usual." Lo and behold I have found it! Albeit, I wasn't expecting it to come so heavily scented with acetone, but I'll take what I can get.

Moving on. So now I go fairly regularly as does my aunt. The owner and the girls that work there are Korean. Some of them don't speak much English. They are all as nice as can be. All the stuff is clean, new and it's small (only 3 pedicure chairs, one "waxing" room and one "massage" room). And it's great. My aunt even has her own box with her name and a number on it that has the nail polish color she likes in it.

So I go into the massage room first. And you know how most massage places are very strategic about where they place the sheet over your nakedness? Yeah, well this place not so much. And I didn't care. So as I'm laying naked on my stomach vulnerable to the lady hammering into my tissues and feeling reeellaaaaxxxeeeddd, I hear the door open and the owner walk in to hand the massager some hot towels. And instead of just walking right out, she says to my back "Ohhhh, hooonneeyy!! You have suuch a good body, I did not even know!!!" (said in Korean accent). With my face firmly planted in the massage table and eyes closed I mumble an "Um, thanks?" Subsequently, because the walls are super thin, I hear her immediately walk back out and tell my aunt the same thing to which she responds something like, "Yeah, she runs a lot."

Now whenever I feel sad and lonely, I can just go where everybody knows my name....and my body. Amen.

Mawwiage.

Marriage. It's so hot right now. Went to one wedding in June for my cousin and just attended another this month for my friend from high school. Then there's the umpteen wedding receptions I've attended over the last year or so as everyone I know seems to be taking the plunge. Many of them are Mormon, so it's to be expected. I'm accustomed to attending wedding receptions and bridal showers throughout my whole life. It's as regular as eating and pooping in Mormondom. And many of my BYU friends have already been married for like 4 years now with 2 kids and driving minivans. True story. But NOW...now it's that time where my non-Mormon friends are getting hitched and I'm starting to realize that I must not be that young anymore.  

I remember a few years ago when I was at the bridal shower of one of my good friends from high school who's Mormon. So there were some older ladies from church there. One lady I had known vaguely from church growing up, and we were talking about my friend and how great it was she was getting married yadda yadda yadda. She looked at me point blank and asked, "So when are you getting married?" without a tinge of humor in her voice or look. Really? How do people expect you to respond to that? In retrospect I should've said something like, "As soon as I get knocked up" or "Once my parole is over." But alas, I can never come up with this stuff til after the fact. I probably said something like, "Ha. Oh yeah. Um, I'm not getting married anytime soon," which was true.

Then there was the time my aunt and I were invited to dinner at my friend from church's house with just her mother. Both very nice, outstanding church goers. My friend was talking about some of the people who spoke in church that day and her mother was asking if the one speaker (male) seemed like someone she might want to date. My friend said, "No, not really. He wasn't THAT impressive." The mom continues to talk about the Bishop of our young single adult ward and how he's performed over 100 marriages since he's been Bishop. She says in all seriousness, "Well, if all these other people are getting married, then why are you guys having a problem finding someone?" To me, this encapsulates the Mormon experience.

My family isn't quite so bad, but they've had their moments. Especially my grandma (aka Gammy). It's her favorite topic of conversation with me: who I'm dating, how serious it is, what they do, if they will go to church with me, and basically that I should marry a Mormon boy or else I will live unhappily and regret it. She tells me the story of how she almost married a Baptist boy. But then had a dream that she married my grandpa, that she saw their wedding announcement in the paper and then how amazingly it came true even though she hadn't seen my grandpa in years since they first met and had no idea if he was already married. She was so glad she made the right decision. She tells me this story everytime I see her.  

Now however, on my most recent trip to visit her, she actually said "You're only 25. You don't need to feel like an old maid just cause you're not married. Girls these days, sometimes they don't get married until they're 30." THIS is so un-Gammy like. She is 91, and from the South and Mormon. That is not characteristic of her worldview at all. Normally she tells me how she's basically only alive until I get married. Or just the fact that she brings up marriage all the time. And thinks I should be meet a boy and be married within 6 months. Gah. Maybe she's actually giving up on me slowly in her old age...I must really be reaching that age where people stop asking and just assume it's not in the cards for me haha.  

To the Woman in the Gold Lexus SUV...

When the light is red, it means you can't go. And once the light turns green, and I can move my car into the left turning lane, I will. Unfortunately, until I can change the laws of physics and make my car morph its shape to fit through a 6 inch opening between the car in front of me and the median curb, please stop honking, making faces and mouthing foul words at me so that I can see them through my rear view mirror. I'm glad that you have somewhere to be so urgently that necessitates you speeding past me in the turning lane and cutting me off whilst honking at me as you go by. I'm sure the other eleventy-billion cars sitting in traffic along with you don't have anywhere to be, so by all means, cut them off too. Maybe you were cheering for your favorite sports team honking like that. And maybe when I flicked you off you thought I was waving...   

A Southern Blog.

Last weekend I was in North Carolina for my cousin's (2nd) wedding. Raleigh to be exact. And yes, it is very much "The South." Let me explain. It's almost magical how the moment you cross the border you encounter people like waitresses who call you "Honey" and "Darlin" or other variations of pet names, said by total strangers. Friendly? I guess. Then there's the accent. It definitely still thrives there, hearkening back to the days of Scarlet O'Hara. I would just love for someone to meet me and say something like, "Yankees in Tara (or Raleigh)?!?!?!" Although, I guess being from Virginia doesn't qualify me as a Yankee. I still consider Northern Virginia to be basically an entire different state than the rest of Virginia, but that's a whole other story....I digress. Then there's things like the State Fair Grounds where I saw more John Deere tractors in one place than I think I'll ever see, short of visiting a John Deere factory. I was sad to miss the Hog Racing (not Harley's...actual hogs or pigs as most would call them) and the Roller Derby. Yes, you heard me. How awesome would these events have been to encounter? The answer is Incredibly Awesome. Too bad my cousin had to have his wedding that day. So we perused the Flea Market and the Petting Zoo. I tested out old velvet covered couches and fed a camel and a llama. Just your typical Saturday morning in Raleigh. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

Retail Proselytizers and the Heavenly Mother.

No, this is not a sermon. But recently I had the experience of being approached by missionaries, and they weren't even Mormon! I was going to the mall to run a quick errand after work that day. I was texting my friend about a funny license plate holder I'd seen that said, "Don't just sit there...Needlepoint!" He responded something along the lines of how I have a special radar for the wackiest people. I honestly think I have some sort of weirdo magnet. Exhibit A: So about 5 minutes after that convo, I'm heading out of the mall after completing my errand. As I'm walking toward the escalator, some man is trying to get my attention. I turn thinking he needs directions to a specific store or something. He mumbles something about how he and his friend are new here, then dives right in. 

Mish: "Have you heard about the Heavenly Mother?" 

Me: Oh boy..."Yes, you mean like the wife of God?"

Mish:"No, that she is also God. That God is both male and female."

Me: "Um, no I don't believe that."

Mish: "Well, it says so in the Bible. Are you familiar with the Bible?"

Me: "What version of the Bible are you reading?"

The convo continued a bit as he tried to convince me of this being the last prophecy in the Bible yadda yadda yadda. He talked about something he called The Sanctuary. (I dunno what he was saying cause my eyes glazed over as I was jogging in place to get outta there). But I told him, and his silent companion, that they should get name tags like the Mormon missionaries. I asked for a pamphlet (so I could show my friend and prove the crazies that I meet). Alas, he didn't have one so instead he gives me his name and phone number on a mini notebook page. Haha, anyone interested??? 

Why I Can't Wait for the Future!

There are a few things that have been promised to us that will happen in the future. I don't know about you, but I haven't lost hope.

1. Dippin' Dots. This is the ice cream of the future. Or so they've been claiming since its inception 20 years ago. So now here we are in 2008. Are we still not in the future yet? Shouldn't all ice cream come in Dippin' Dot formation by now? Granted, I still like Olde Worlde Ice Creame such as Ben & Jerry's...but I also liked scrunchies when they were popular...

2. Hoverboards, as featured in the film Back to the Future. Skateboards are boring. Rollerblades remind me of being nine and also of the joke, Q: What's the hardest part about rollerblading? A: Telling your parents you're gay! Razor Scooters are so 5 years ago. Segues are a new and interesting breed of transportion 
devices, but unfortunately have not caught on to the mass population, probably due to cost. But hovering is at least 8 times more awesome. Ninjas want them. Boys named Biff want them. Jesus may have walked on water, but you...you could hover on water just like this guy. And those shoes could become standard hoverboard riding shoes...as if you needed another reason to want to hoverboard...

3. Zombies and robots and aliens, oh my! This is mostly Hollywood's fault. I don't necessarily want to be around til the end of the world when humans start succumbing to a massive zombie epidemic (i.e. 28 Days Later, 28 Weeks Later, Dawn of the Dead, Night of the Living Dead...I'll stop there). But I would like to have a jovial, albeit mischievous furry alien join my family tree (i.e. ALF) or maybe a haphazard but lovable robot (i.e. Short Circuit) to crash my pad and romp around town with me. Sigh...these are my hopes.

4. The completion of the Weekend at Bernie's trilogy. No one questioned the sanity of the producers of Mannequin. Or Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure. Or even Weekend at Bernie's 1. I mean somebody let these movies go into production. Even multiple people...But really it's called suspension of disbelief. Or we could just call it the 80's. Either way, why else would people watch these movies? Weekend at Bernie's 2 was such a stretch, (Um wouldn't he smell?....A LOT???) that I feel like they could really get away with a third. Especially now 20 years later. Hilarity will ensue. Besides Andrew McCarthy needs a gig. And Jonathan Silverman..wait, is he even still alive? He disappeared. Maybe he could replace Bernie as the dead guy. Now there's a twist.

The grossest words in the English language. Period.

Fact: Words with "oi" in them are all gross words. Even if the word itself is not inherently gross, it just sounds gross when you say it because of that sound "oyyyy."

Disclaimer: These words are gross.

Oil(y)

Boil: as in skin lesions.

Soil: "I've soiled myself!"

Groin: uh, self-explanatory.

Loin: only worse when followed by "cloth."

Moist: to me, this is by FAR the WORST of them...it actually makes me shiver.

Ointment: I picture Preparation-H cream, which leads to the next item on the list...

Hemorrhoid: ...don't want to get into this one.

Coil: eww.

Toilet: gross things happen here.

Foil: not inherently gross, but just try saying it now without scrunching up your nose.
Poise: as in the adult diaper-esque product. Enough said.

Ok, now I've saved the best for last....drum roll please....

Goiter!!!

Suffice it to say, that combining any of these words together in a sentence exponentially increases the overall grossness factor. Try using the sentence, "Do you need some moist ointment for your groin?" in your next basic interaction. Or perhaps you could say, "I am boiling my soiled loincloth" when asked what you're up to today. Play around with this list. It is by no means an exhaustive one. Enjoyyyyyyy!!!