For the most part, lets never mind what’s happened since the last time I wrote.  There is far too much to detail.

One thing I must say is that someone finally wrote a “missed connection” ad for me.  I didn’t actually read it, but he told me he wrote one (after reading this blog) and for some reason asked me to promise not to read it.  He’s an odd one, for sure, but that’s the best kind!  And I love him. And what’s more, I know he loves me.  He tells me he loves me, but more importantly, he shows me. No… “show” is not the right word.  I really don’t  know how to describe it.  He… sends his love at me…. it radiates from him.  I read it in his eyes often, and in those wordless sounds he sometimes makes, and in his touches, and in his kisses.

I’ve loved before, and I’ve been loved, but not like this.  This is like having fat-free Cool Whip with your strawberries for your whole life and then tasting them with sweet, delicious double cream. It’s like spending your childhood summers swimming in the neighborhood pool and then having your first dip in the ocean.
But… I’m gushing….

Anyway….I may, gradually, regale the ambiguous  “you” with some of the things that have happened in the past 579 days (yes, I figured out the exact number of days. Yes, I’m a dork.) Right now, though, I can’t.

Let’s consider this a re-introduction.  We’ll get into the good stuff—the “interesting” stuff, if you will—tomorrow.

For now, my daily affirmations:

• I am interesting.
• I am  good enough.
• If I make a minor mistake or say the wrong thing, I am not an idiot or a horrible human being.
• I can take care of myself.
• Today is going to be a great day.

I just decided to do this, oh… about 2 minutes ago.  I think it’s a pretty good idea.  I need it.  It’s absolutely ridiculous for me to only believe these things when someone else tells me them.  I need to believe it when I say it myself.

I’m encouraging the rest of you, readers (however sparse), to think of your own daily affirmations.  We’ve all go things we need to work on.  You don’t have to stand in front of a mirror and tell yourself these out loud.  You don’t have to share them with anyone else.  They’re just things to keep in your mind throughout your day.

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

Last night, I met up with some guys from I band in which I might be the singer. I got home at about 2:30 a.m. Sitting in the driveway was a hearse. It was unexpected. It was late. I was drunk. I was sufficiently creeped out. In addition, it was parked so close to the house that I had to squeeze between it and the wall to get into the courtyard and through to my house. It gave me chills and goosebumps even after I was safely in my home. I didn’t think I was a very superstitious person. I live with a black cat. I’ve walked under ladders. I’ve broken mirrors (though whether or not I’ve been cursed with bad luck is debatable.) For some reason, though, walking past this hearse felt like a dangerous thing to do.

The thing was still there this morning when I left for work, and though it still gave me a slight sense of foreboding, it wasn’t so bad in the daytime.I’ve done a little research. It seems all the superstitions surrounding hearses involve ones with a body inside. This one was empty. So, no sweat, right. Sure, but it still made me uncomfortable.

In the past week, three people have told me that they have found my twin. In three different parts of the country.

The first was at about 2 in the morning. My ex sent me a text message, asking if I was walking up St. Charles Avenue, past Igor’s. No, I told him, I was definately at home in bed. He said he saw a girl that looked exactly like me.

A couple of days later, my friend Bryan, sent me a text message telling me he’d found my twin. Bryan was in California.

Today, another friend sent me a message on facebook saying exactly what Bryan had said: “I found your twin.” This “twin” is in Virginia.

There’s going to be an army of people that look like me. We are going to destroy the world with our cuteness.

Wait. I just looked at pictures of the girl in Virginia. We look similar, but I wouldn’t say “twin.” Her eyes are blue, while mine, alas, are not.

Still, there’s the other two. The people who claimed they saw my twin are people who know me very well. I trust that they were not mistaken.

Meh. Stranger things have happened, especially in this city.

You may feel alone when you’re falling asleep
And everytime tears roll down your cheeks
But I know your heart belongs to someone you’ve yet to meet
Someday you will be loved

Nearly every day, I read through the “Missed  Connections” in the personals on craigslist, hoping someone is looking for me.

It just doesn’t seem conceivable to me that not a single person sees me and hopes for a conversation at the very least.

There’s a song that says “Love is watching someone die… So who’s gonna watch you die?”

So, I’m wondering… who’s going to watch me die?

Now wait a minute, before I start getting comments about how I have so much to live for.  I’m not talking about dying now.  What I mean is: who is going to be with me right up until the end?  I’m probably too young to be worrying about all that, but how can I avoid it in a world that has, consciously or subsonciously instilled the thought that a woman is happy and satisfied when she’s in love and married, etc., etc?  Besides, as much as I like a good adventure, as much as I like travelling, I’m still fairly domestic.  So, given that, is it so odd that I want to find my one and only?

And, is it so wrong to want affection, attention, understanding…? Is it?

Maybe I’m living in a fairytale world.

Some day, my prince will come.  And he will be tall, and strong, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. 

What is my fixation with blue eyes?  I haven’t the slightest clue.

Speaking of eyes: I can’t figure out why it is that I can talk to a guy for hours and hours and comfortably look into his eyes, but when I’m speaking to another woman, I break my gaze after about three seconds.  I wonder what this says about me.

Once again, another pensive, rambling post.

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I feel like I should say something useful and Interesting here, since I haven’t in so long.

But I won’t.

I dream’d a dream to-night

And so did I.

Well what was yours?

That dreamers often lie

Have you ever walked down the street and felt that you were on a film set? You get the sense that all the buildings are just fronts and all the people are just extras. You, as a matter of fact, are an extra. No one is who they appear to be and nothing around you is real. Where’s the leading lady? Where’s the hero? Where’s the villain? Where’s our climax? Where’s our resolution?

The joke is…

They don’t exist! The villain is volunteering at the soup kitchen. The hero is passed out drunk on a piss-stained mattress. The leading lady is nowhere to be found. If we’re lucky, we’ll get a hint of exposition. We’ll get conflict. How many of us have our turning points, though? Who really gets a final resolution… a happily ever after?

So what do we make of this? We make what we can, I suppose. Whether we commandeer the plot and become the star, or set up house behind a fake building, blending into the scenery, or walk off the present set in hopes of finding a better one, we make what we can.

Where am I going with this?

Nowhere, probably.

Did you ever find a picture of someone you didn’t know and make up a whole imaginary life for them, based on that photograph alone? Names and birthdays, childhood ambitions, the event that lead to the taking of the photograph. Or people-watch in a public place, piecing together bits of conversation to invent a situation for someone? Some private drama or celebration.

And did you ever wonder if someone was doing the exact same thing with your photograph, your conversation, your life. Is it possible for someone to dream up a situation and have it become a reality? You’d never know. The dreamer is just a stranger on a park bench of whom you take no notice.

Imagine that! A complete stranger having an impact on your life by simply thinking!

Thanks for bearing with me!

So, I gave myself 10 minutes to come up with a new idea and 15 minutes to write it.

I decided to write a letter to my favorite teddy bear.

Dear Boofer,

I found you on my bed Christmas morning when I was two years old.  I don’t know how I came up with your name.  Do you know?

From that first moment, I loved you (I think.)

I have pictures of me wearing pink footie pajamas and hugging you with a great big smile on my face.  We were almost the same size back then.

You were with me throughout my childhood.  Always in my bed or somewhere in my bedroom, safe and sound.  At night, I hugged you tight.  Even when I had other stuffed animals and dolls in bed with us, I always held you closest.

You even had a girlfriend once! Remember Bloomer? I always made sure that she was on the other side of you at night.  Whatever happened to her?

We used to have conversations together with me speaking in my voice and then in yours.  Your voice was much deeper than mine and it always made me yawn.

When I would play school (with me as the teacher and all my other toys as students) you were always my star pupil.  You knew all the right answers!

I read stories to you and you listened so well.

You absorbed so many of my tears.  If you had tears, I would have absorbed them for you. 

Even as I got older, I still held on to you.  Life threw me some curveballs, but you were there to help me so I didn’t get knocked out.

I swear I could see emotions in your eyes.  When I was sad, you looked sad, too.  If I forgot you at home while I stayed over a friend’s house, you looked decidedly angry when I got back.

When we moved in with Nana, Pepper tore your left arm open.  I was so mad at him!  Your arm is better now… kinda.  I stitched it up myself, but you lost some stuffing.  It’s a bit limp now.

Where your ribbon was, I can see a strip of fur almost as clean and fluffy as the day we met. You’re now stained and nubby, but you don’t mind, do you?  It just shows that there was once a little girl who couldn’t bear to be without you (no pun intended.)

Now, here we are, 1,000 miles apart.  I still miss you sometimes; when I go to bed at night, or when I need someone to absorb my tears.  Please don’t think I abandoned you.  You’re safe at Momma’s house.  We’ll be together again soon.

All my love,

Anastasia

P.S.  Do you remember when I gave you a bath?  I was afraid to put you in the washing machine, so I washed you in the bathtub as if you were my child.  Then I hung you up by your feet to dry.  Those nights while you were drying, I had trouble falling asleep.  I have trouble falling asleep now.

My computer at work crashed this morning. 

What would we do if we no longer had this modern day oracle? What would we do with no modern technology at all?

Some people think humanity would crumble.

I seriously doubt that.

We survived just fine without all this “fancy technology” for quite a long time.  Why wouldn’t we be able to do that now?

You argue that the average person has become so dependent on it that one would simply not know what to do in its absence.

You could argue that corporations, banks, and practically every other business, are run largely by computers and losing that would cause massive economic downfall.

You could argue that people, deprived of their internet porn (after all, any fan of Avenue Q can tell you “The internet is for porn.”) would go on a crime rampage–Rape, pillage, and plunder, just like the vikings–and that there’d be massive looting and bank robbery since surveillance systems and so many other security measures are computerized.

You could even argue that people would commit murder or suicide out of sheer boredom.

For these last two especially, I’d tell you that you’re overreacting.

Realistically speaking, we, as a society, would probably be crippled for a while.  We might have to revert back to the way of life of the pre-telegraph days.  We already have the knowledge that these things (cell phones, television, computers) can be made and can work, though.  So it wouldn’t be long before people start recreating them.

Imagine kids in school reading a text book that says, “Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone in 1876.  John Q. Public re-invented the telephone in 2015.”

Maybe losing those ever-convenient things, like email and text messaging, might make us remember how to be human again.  How to talk to other people, and, at the very least, how to write a frickin’ letter!

Don’t get me wrong, here.  I’m not saying that I wish we could do away with all this technology.  I’m as dependent on it as most other people.  I like it.  I could survive without it, though.  So could you.  So could the human race in general.

At least, that’s what I think.

What do you think would happen if all technology was somehow lost?

There’s no truth in these statements.  As a matter of fact, a surprising amount of conventional “wisdom” is completely wrong.

Here’s a collection of  the truths behind the myths and misconceptions:

Food, Body, and Health

It takes three hours to dissipate or “burn off” all the alcohol in food.  So when you eat food that was cooked with alcohol, it still has alcoholic content.

Cracking your knuckles doesn’t cause arthritis.  The cracking or popping sound you hear is the bursting of air bubbles in the fluid surrounding the joint.

When someone dies, the skin dries up exposing more of the bases of hair and fingernails.  This is why it seems like hair and fingernails continue to grow after death.

It is just as safe to wake a sleepwalker as it is to wake a person sleeping in bed.

Randomized controlled trials have been done that have proved that excess of sugar does not cause change in a child’s behavior.

Reading in dim light can strain your eyes, but it won’t ruin your vision.  It won’t even worsen it.

Poison Ivy is not contagious.  You can only get that rash from actually touching the plant.

You won’t get stomach ulcers from drinking too much coffee or eating too much spicy food.  Ulcers are caused by a certain kind of bacteria.

Turkey won’t make you sleepy.  A large meal (like that turkey dinner for Thanksgiving) will.  Beef and pork actually have more tryptophan than turkey.

There isn’t a single part of the brain that isn’t active in some way.  So forget what you heard about using only 10% of it.

Weed doesn’t kill brain cells.

Go ahead and kiss your boyfriend (or girlfriend) with a cold.  You’re not likely spread it… unless he’s (or she’s) licking inside your nose.

The common cold is caused by a virus.  So standing out in the cold rain isn’t going to give you a cold.

Gum passes through your digestive system almost exactly like regular food.  It doesn’t take 7 years (or 10, or whatever else you’ve heard.)  The only difference is that your stomach can’t break it down, but it still gets rid of it.

Insects, Plants, and Animals

 If you “eat like a bird,” that means you eat half of your body weight in food daily.

Pigs do sweat, just not enough to keep them cool.

Pointsettias are not toxic.

A dog’s mouth is not sterile.  There are tons of bacteria in there.  (In our mouths, too)

Chameleons are like mood rings.  They change based on their physiological condition, not to match their surroundings.

A duck’s quack does echo, though the echo is very faint because the way a quack fades.  Trevor Cox, of the University of Salford, England tested it.

Daddy Long-Legs are not the most venomous spider.  Their venom only has a weak effect, even on insects.

Speaking of Daddy Long-Legs, they are only sometimes spiders.  The Crane Fly, the Pholcid House Spider, and the Harvestman are all called “Daddy Long-Legs”  Crane Flies (seen mostly in the UK and Canada) is not a spider.  The Harvestman (usually seen outdoors in the United States) is not a spider.  The Pholcid House Spider (seen indoors in the United States.)  It is a spider.  This is the only venomous Daddy-Long Legs

And speaking of spiders, only about half of spiders use webs to catch their prey.

You can’t get warts from toads.  A wart is caused by a virus that only humans can have.  Besides, those bumps on toads aren’t warts.

Gold fish have been trained to navigate mazes and can recognize their owners after being around them for a few months.  So much for “three-second memory”

Bats see better long-range and are disoriented by too much light, but they’re not blind.

History

The Revolutionary War was technically a civil war.  Most of the guys who fought for the British were citizens of the American colonies.

Chastity belts were originally intended to prevent masturbation (male or female), not intercourse.

Theodore Roosevelts Rough Riders didn’t actually ride anywhere in any war.  Plus, Roosevelt was second in command, not the leader. 

So now you know, and knowing is half the battle.  G.I. JOE!! A real American Hero.

There was not actual reason for posting this.  I just like to pretend that I have a million loyal readers that expect an interesting post from me every day!

What I wound up doing didn’t even come from one of the prompts, though there were so many good ones. I’ll at least have plenty of ideas for future blog posts!

One day, while sitting in a used book co-op I came across a book called FOUND. In it, there are pictures of items (letters, photos, etc.) found. Check out the website to see what I mean.

Anyway, for some reason that book came to mind while I was trying to find inspiration and I decided to pick a found item and write a story about it.  The picture below is the found item.

I sat watching Jacob, my eight year old brother try to tie a homemade “rocket” to Cheshire, our orange cat.

“Make sure you bring me back a moon rock. OK, Chess?” he said. The cat glared menacingly.

The outside of rocket consisted of a discarded piece of PVC pipe  (with a small decorative broom tied to it) as the body,  a small funnel held to the top with gorilla glue as a nose cone, and a Fourth of July Sparkler as the fuse. He had been working on this thing for days. He was so certain that he could send Cheshire into outer space.

Cheshire, though clearly not pleased with the idea of having something tied to him, was surprisingly contained. He suffered silently, perhaps hoping that if he didn’t kill the boy, he would be rewarded with Fancy Feast. He looked at me pleadingly.

“Jake,” I said, “Don’t you think that poor cat has suffered enough? He really doesn’t need to go to outer space.”
“No. He does,” Jacob said, without looking up at me.

“He’s never even been past the front porch,” I reasoned, “What makes you think he can handle space?”

“Don’t worry. I told him everything. He knows what to do.”

“How will he get back?”

“Hitch a ride with the astronauts.”

“What if he gets lost?”

“He won’t.”

“Ok. What if he gets caught in a meteor shower?”

“Well…” he hesitated, “See, this front part is supposed to turn so he can go around the meteors, but I couldn’t make it do it.”

“So….”

“So… if he sees a meteor shower, he’ll just stop until it’s out of the way.”

Adult logic wouldn’t work on this kid. There was no way for me to get it through to him that a cat-rocket couldn’t stop mid-space. As far as he could see, his plan was perfect. I was determined to make him see some kind of a hole.

“How will he breathe?” I asked.

Jake reached behind him and pulled out a plastic fishbowl. He popped it on to the cat’s head.

“Oh jeez!” I said, “Listen, Jacob. This won’t work. You can’t send Cheshire into space. Especially not on that thing you call a rocket.”

He finally looked at me.

‘Shit…’ I thought.

His face turned red, tears welled up, and he wailed. The kid’s got pipes, let me tell you! He probably woke up people in Australia.

“Oh, come on, Jake.” I said soothingly, “There’s no reason to cry…”

He looked so pathetic with his face all red and soggy, but he finally let go of the cat.

Cheshire ran faster than I’d ever seen him run.

Jake screeched something unintelligible and stomped off to his room.

‘Oh well,’ I thought, ‘He’ll get over it.’

I went into the bathroom and took a shower that was so relaxing I quite forgot the incident.

When I came out of the steamy bathroom, I found the house far too quiet.

I wandered around, calling out to my cat and my brother and receiving no answer from either. I looked in closets and under beds with no luck.

Then it occurred to me.

I ran out the back door into our fenced in yard. Jake was sitting on the ground and staring at the bright red cat scratches on his arm.

“Where’s Cheshire?” I asked in my “Pissed off mom” tone.

“In space,” he told me, “He scratched me.”

He held up his arm for me to see.

“You probably deserved it,” I said, “What do you mean he’s in space?”

“I lit the rocket. I closed my eyes so the take-off explosion wouldn’t blind me,” Jake explained, “Then Chess was gone. He must be halfway to Venus by now!”

“Go inside and wash your arm. I’m going to find the cat,” I fumed.

“He’s in SPACE!” he yelled as if I was a complete idiot.

I found Cheshire the next morning, hiding under the blueberry bush.  His tail was singed, as well as the fur on his back, and he looked mad as hell.  I pulled the fishbowl from his headn and untied the rocket from his back.  In his eyes, I was a savior.