Last Day at Work!

In about 11 minutes, I'll be free!

Going to T.O. for the weekend before school starts again.

God is a Cornrolled Head

I had this dream last night, and it was a Bruce Willis a la 12 Monkey type thing. We were in the huge museum, with two reactor tanks of heavy water or whatever, and the idea is that there is a bomb (what else) in that water, and the whole place, with thousands of people, blows up when the specialists finally find out where the bomb is and tries to deactivate it. The thing is, it keeps blowing up, and every time we are returned to some earlier point in time, and the trick is to figure out where the bomb is sooner every time, and, you know, not blow anyone up.

I was there with my aunt and cousins, possibly my mom and grandmother, and I kept running straight to where the bomb is (it’s at the conductor’s stand in the concert hall), and seeing how it turns out. Everyone watches in tense anticipation for the divers to go into this heavy water tank, to deactivate the thing shaped like a giant black woman’s head with cornrolls. I guess we figure that there is no point is running, ‘cuz if the bomb goes off, we will all be dead anyway. So I’m pretty high up, and at the most intense moment, I threw a poker chip into the other tank (the one the divers weren’t in), and the crowd gasped and stared at me. But the divers went into the other tank to retrieve that chip, and then deactivated the bomb successfully this time. I believe it had to do with the timing and delay because they were retrieving my chip. The woman’s head thing rose out of the water, and somehow we knew it was God. The crisis is over, and people jumped into the heavy water tank to swim in jubilation. I hugged my cousin and said to the younger one, “Remember this day forever”.

I’ll let you draw your own conclusions as to how wacked my brain is.

The other day, I was biking and approaching a Don't Cross sign flashing (yeah, I was biking on the sidewalk), but when I zoomed into the intersection, the sign changed back to Green for Crossing. Ever since then I've been thinking that I have super powers.

What If PMS is Who We Really Are?

I know, I know. All summer I have been going through all these mood swings of discontentment with my life, and in particular with my boyfriend. I can’t seem to understand it, but if Cosmos says it’s PMS, who am I to question that? Then, a thought hit me today: What if that’s who I really am? The bitchy, jealous, conniving control-freak of a woman – what if that’s my true self? What if the real me only come out during those times of hormone-induced liberation from the everyday mask I try to keep hidden under? What if I’m like that prince from The Silver Chair (Narnian Chronicles, Book Six), who only remembers who he is outside the witch’s spell for one hour a day, at which time he is bound to the Silver Chair to keep him from escaping home? What if all that I am, unattractive though it may be, is what I am when I’m PMS-ing? How can you go through life like that, only being yourself a week a month??!!