My mother the writer

My mother sent me such a long text message early this morning. I woke up and read it immediately, then I thought: Wow. My mother should write a book. Or a blog. Or start a blog then write the book.

She really should. Even if it's called "Letters to My Daughter" or something! I will not rest until I convince her to do it! Or have her write it, but I post it for her (considering she is not too tech literate).

This needs to happen.

Go, Mom, go!!!

Anyway, drinking coffee at my desk, door shut - my poor kitty begging to run around the apartment, but...I can not. I can't risk a cat running amuck in an apartment where no pets are allowed, but new roommates are.

No one has moved in yet. That I can hear. Soon, I will venture out to grab more coffee - maybe I should put the coffee pot in my room, too? (haha)

Here's hoping for the best...

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood...

This coffee is pretty amazing. And by pretty I mean fucking (but only in this instance...maybe).

Here I am, again: swimsuit garb, longingly staring out the window at the sun and the sky - silently threatening each cloud that appears, hoping it will get my drift and disappear.

I'm like a child. I've been living in this bathing suit - my skin slightly burnt, freckles all visible - all week. This is how it was when I was a child, as a matter of fact. I couldn't stay away from the water.

But, I mean, honestly, who doesn't like to swim?

Anyway, I will finish my cups of delicious coffee, apply more sunscreen, and head out!

Time to forget about idiotic people and the ridiculous things they do. Let the sun blind me momentarily to their shenanigans. Let the water wash away the negative emotions before I explode and do something [more than just] I will regret.

I don't answer to anyone. Especially you.

Shoo.

Cloudy skies, cloudy dreams

It's 3pm and the sky is chock full of clouds and random bouts of lightning. I had sunbathing and swimming plans - along with other such sunny tomfooleries.

And now what?

Now, I sit inside and watch Buffy while drinking coffee and fiddling with my iPhone. (Unemployment and the lack of finances kind of ruin "going out".)

I rue today.

Onto other things: I keep having two recurring dreams. Well, one is never really the same but I always have a dream where I am smoking. Recently, I dreamt my brother Brent came to visit for my birthday and his gift to me was a single cigarette because he knew I wanted to smoke. This is very unlike Brent. But, nevertheless, I sat at the bar and smoked that cigarette. And it was wonderful.

...okay, enough with the smoking dreams before I have an ever worse craving.

The other recurring dream involves this mystery man. Or boy. - Boy because I feel as if, in the dream, I am actually younger than I am in real life (as is he). - My mother is always in the dream, along with Punk, and she drives me a ways to see this boy. And, along the way, Punk always ends up in some sort of kitty shenanigans. But I always make it to see the boy. And it's a relief. Yet, usually, right after I get to him...I wake up. And I am left shifting, trying to become comfortable again, so that I can drift back away into that dream and find out more about my mystery boy.

I'm curious. And the dream felt good.

I'd like to go back to sleep, now.

Have you ever been too tired to make coffee?

...that doesn't even begin to describe how I feel. So much for staying up all day. However, I'm probably better off. Six-ish hours of sleep, I feel like I should be eating brains: yeah, I'll be down for the count by 10pm. I hope.

Coffee break.

PJs and coffee and grape leaves and mmm!

I'm still in my PJs. Pa-Jam-Jams. I love my comfy tank tops and Pirates of the Caribbean short-shorts! It makes my coffee taste that much better. No, really.

It's Friday. FollowFriday.

I have this terrible feeling that my life is going to be even more drama-filled. How awful. How gross. How utterly unnecessary.

Meh. Drama. Go away.

I realized most everyone awesome I know lives in Canada or Cali. I wonder what that means. Better breeding in the C's, I guess. Huh.

I am going to finish my home coffee, then trek out to Sbux for some fatty frap before I go purchase some groceries. I need to cook again. I never knew I'd love cooking so much, but I do. I guess I like feeling in control. And it's about all of the excitement I can get in my boring little life here, lately.

I really need an adventure.

Anyway, I am going to make dolmathes. It's a Middle Eastern dish. Dolma means stuffed. It's essentially grape leaves stuffed with taste bud-tantalizing, mouth-watering herbs, veggies, rice and all things mmm! baked in more herbs and juices and more mmm! I am salivating just thinking about it. Hopefully I don't fuck it up; I can see myself mis-rolling the grape leaves or overcooking...something.

Either way, I'm cooking; feel bad for my kitchen.