this move, this job, this life thing is having an unusual effect on me.
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i’ve worn the same perfume for six years. .. . but suddenly i need to branch out, and try/ buy a handful of other ones. . . none of which seem to smell any good on me once i get them home, but i guess they make for adequate girly decoration in my room. and yes, for a while i worried about how i stack up compared to my current roommates. my one shampoo brand seems paltry to the four brands that don my roommate’s bathroom collection.
i remember my first month when i felt the need to get bedroom furniture, dressers, night stands, armoires. after realizing that i wouldn’t be here for too long, i settled with my fallback college crate racks. now i’m glad that i won’t have much to move when it comes time.
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my appetite has been all over the map. famished for days, or not hungry for days at a time, or even better. . . currently everything i eat tastes good for about six bites, then quickly it turns into the most disgusting thing i’ve ever tasted.
and let’s not forget the first month and a half where no matter what i ate i ended up with a horrible bout of the loosies. . . i’m glad that phase has passed.
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the subject matter of my dreams is rather obvious. i toggle between overly plush and indulgently stress relieving dreams, or a release of aggression that can only be matched by a summer block buster. i’ve played with puppies for hours on end, and more recently baby tiger and jaguar cubs- those little tikes have some teeth on them, but they are small, so if they rough house a little too much, you can still just swat them away, or so says the physical laws of my dream state.
i spent several hours both verbally and physically beating up a fictitious coworker. what’s great about an argument within a dream is that you can play out EVERY scenario, kind of like it’s on a video loop, but you get to keep trying out different endings. you can even go back and revisit your favorite ones. what’s bad about an argument in a dream is you wake up having spent hours steeped in extreme aggression right before going to work. . . . it’s a great set up for a day.
or you can make an unexpected trip to the great wall in china. . . . but somehow get lost in a cavern within a gift shop. . . and never get to walk along the outside of the wall. yeah, dreams can do that to you.
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i’d like to say that through it all i’ve been able to keep an optimistic, positive outlook. . . but that would be a GI-NORMOUS FUCKING LIE!
and that little thing inside my head that tells me when i should use my inside voice. . . yeah, that’s dead. . . or at least in a vegetative state.
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then i noticed the vertigo and thought i was in real trouble. my ability to perceive distance was wavering, especially while walking down stairs. awesome. . . maybe i’m headed for a stroke. as fitting as my dying in this theatre college building would be. . . and as great a point it would prove. . . . it’s really not what i want. so, a couple days of vertigo on the stairs, and a couple without. . . and then another day with. . . wtf?
why do i feel unsure of my feet on the stairs? why am i having an issue seeing the stairs? time for some research.
didn’t have to go too far. on a day when i had trouble with the stairs i changed my view point a bit by slouching. suddenly no problem. proper posture. . . problem, slouching. . no problem. dammit i’m an idiot.
along with my desire to find a new perfume, i’d been trying out a few different bra models. some of them pushed my boobs out a little further then i’m used to, rather annoying.
my depth perception is just fine, and i don’t have vertigo. . . my boobs were getting in the way. christ on a pogo stick. . . . honesty. . . .
