Unpopular Opinion Coming Through

Over my lunch hour, today, I got caught at the chatty table. I’m not exactly sure how that happened. Poetic justice, really. I sat down at the empty table, and wouldn’t you know it? Ten minutes later, it was the social event of the season. Women talking about their sons and grandsons, and the wonderful

No, Really… If you could do anything….

I ran into this TED Talk the other day. And even though it was nested in among such gems as “Your Vagina is Not a Car,” a highly intellectual search for hidden meaning in Kubrick’s version of The Shining, and assortment of official and unofficial music videos, it stuck with me. If you ask teenagers

Garlic Bread and Patriotic Socks

Last night, I dreamt I went to a casual dining establishment where–for some reason–they were advertising free patriotic socks with every meal. That’s probably a side-effect of all the explosions. A little less than a week left to Independence Day, and my neighbors are celebrating. Loudly. Why no, as a matter of fact, fireworks aren’t

Dreams of Sleeping, or why You Shouldn’t Eat Gravy Before Bed

This is the week for iffy sleep patterns and strange dreams. As far as I know, absolutely everyone in town has had trouble sleeping–heat, humidity, thunder that would wake the dead–and the general feeling has been described as “hung-over, but you haven’t been drinking.” So, attack of the poorly modified Kreb’s Cycle. Time for tea,

Not Quite Screaming, but Still…

I had one of those dreams last night. The kind that have you waking up in a cold sweat, grateful to be under your own blanket in your own bed. I would call it a nightmare, but the truth is, it wasn’t all that scary, when I was dreaming it. I was zipping down the

You Are Supposed to Be a Cup of Coffee.

I’m not the only person in my peer group who had dreams, once, but I’m slowly creeping toward being the only one still actively working on achieving those dreams. Some dreams go fast. If you’re twenty-five, and just starting to dance, you’re never going to be a prima ballerina. Not every kid gets to be

Fan-Girls, Groupies, and Choosing the Right Dreams

Last night, I dreamed I was helping one of my favorite authors rearrange his collection of movie posters. I’m not sure whether this is a good dream or a bad dream, because on the one hand, I am kind of a fan girl, so I could have a pretty good time playing grateful slave labor.

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