Inspire me …

“One day your life will flash before your eyes, make sure it’s worth watching.”

 ~ Unkown

Dreams are made of this.

Heather over at Geek by Marriage has me so beat when it comes to crazy dreams. Go see and give her masses of support and bloggy love as she tries to quit smoking because she’s doing GREAT. Just so she doesn’t feel like the only one whose head is doing flips while she’s asleep, let me share what I just woke up from:

I’m based in this big fancy hotel with different conference rooms, corridors and floors that all look the same while there I’m apparently dressed like a secretary who at the very least wants to be naughty with her boss and for some reason I have black hair.

In one conference room I’m trying to run a campaign to elect a senator who I’ve never met in a state I’ve never been too… lots of people on phones all yelling at me “I called my mum – she’s gonna vote”.  The room is filled with bunting and red white and blue balloons I have to wade through in my heels.

In another conference room I’m supposed to be attending a relationship counseling seminar where the guy taking it is really hawt and he’s trying to teach me the difference between a platonic relationship and a lustful one. At some point he got into a practical demonstration and the relationship he was showing off on stage at the front of this room was far from platonic…

I’m also trying to run a bath for myself in a hotel room that isn’t mine but has a big ass bath. The room is on a different floor to mine but the doors have keys that look exactly the same (kind of car key style not card keys) and seen as I can’t tell them apart, I have to keep running downstairs to ask the receptionist which is which.

At some point I’m walking through the lobby and I find out that the mystery senator has passed away mid campaign and I respond “how inconvenient” (really sensitive there Ali nice going) then I get in the lift to go check on my rising bath water and I’m in there with both the hawt guy I’ve just watched screw his wife and the late senator’s widow. The ride up to my floor seems to take forever. Nobody is talking. It’s all über awkward.

When I get to the “bathroom”, I find I’m too late: the bath has overflowed and caused the ceiling to cave in. I’m looking through a hole in the floor at the huge bath in the middle of the lobby and some very shocked people looking up at me.

Nuts, I know. The worst bit is I wake up and spend some time afterwards in a sleepy confused haze trying to figure out which bits are real and which are fake. I have to keep repeating to myself “it was a DREAM… you can quit stressing about it all now… it’s not real.” LOL.

And the moral of this tale is… I should not drink too much Coke just before bedtime.

Ali xX

Show and Tell

This week I’m showing my map of the USA one of only three things adorning the walls in my room (the other two are White Sox and Kane County Cougar pennants I picked up on my last trip). I always struggle to remember how different the scale is on a map of this ginormous country than a map of the UK, so when my head is looking at a distance between two places and saying “hmm about a twenty minute drive” in reality I’d be on the road for oh about 3 and a half hours. It’s hard for me to wrap my Scottish head around. I put the map up a couple of years ago now when I was learning more and more about the different states but I, in all honesty, had no clue how they fit together. I mean I used to think New Jersey was north of New York. Seriously. It’s so much worse when you think that I was living there at the time! I also thought New Mexico actually was a country all of its own (as you can tell, geography is my real forte hahaha). Maybe someone out there can explain to me: why Washington D.C. is nowhere near Washington state, why Michigan City is actually in Indiana, come to think of it… how come Michigan is split in such an awkward way with that upper peninsula thing when all the other states lines seem somewhat logical… and another thing… why oh why do you guys say “Kansas” but Arkansas becomes “ar-ken-saw”?  Drives me nuts, despite the fact that as a Brit I can’t really lecture people about writing things one way and saying them another without a really bad pot kettle black situation. (EDIT – Gadget Guy here… hello? There’s no “F” in “Lieutenant” as an example).

So far I’ve only been able to stick three “been there done that” pins in my map:

New York

Orlando

Chicago

I’d give you my wish list too, but really there isn’t anywhere that’s NOT on my wish list.

I can’t when exactly this was… perhaps when Craig Ferguson was trying to get Honorary Citizenship from as many places as possible OR when I was watching your election map turning red and blue all over the place, but for a while I used to have a recurrent dream when I started my own campaign to get a pen friend in every state so that I could pick and poke all thier American brains with my sometimes stoopid often irritating questions of how come… why… what about… the country is just so fascinating to me.

Ali xX

P.S. Don’t forget to check out what everyone else is sharing.

Inspire me …

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”

~William Shakespeare

Getting back to normal.

The good news is I am feeling better. Thank you for the love on that meltdown post. Truthfully, though, I enjoyed and would recommend Craig Ferguson’s book. A lot of the issues just hit far to close to home and my dad has been stalking me for the last week or so in my dreams (when I actually have slept) and a recollection of him awake… his touch… uuugh with him and the memories came. So many emotions tangle together in one huge mess that overwhelms, hurts and infuriates me… and the fear. I’m frightened that I really am worthless as he seemed to think. I worry that other people see in me whatever caused him to hate… disrespect… destroy. I know the reality is his actions are a reflection of him and the screwed up mess he got himself into and never came back from. In my weak moments I still feel the need to shoulder the blame. There must have been something I did, something wrong with me. Maybe I could have done something. These questions hang around and eat me alive for a time till I can get his ghost to piss off again and leave me alone.

I’m winning the battle, but this one thing remains: the urge to drink.  I’m having a little trouble walking past bars at the moment. I can’t escape his genes; my father and I are cut from the same cloth. I can totally understand what lead him to be over reliant on the poor mans pain killer. I know that urge and the mindset that makes you want to drink till you pass out, just to make everything go away for a while. Been there, done that more than once. When I get in this mood its not him I’m scared off. I’m terrified of myself…

Most of the time I’m in control  I can have one or two cocktails get happy giggly fun drunk like a normal person, have a good time and stop. But when those memories are hanging around they get in my head and screw me up. I lose it. I’ve learned in these times I have to fight as hard as I can NOT to touch even a drop… because I won’t stop.

Now some more good news… YES let’s lighten the mood I hear you cry… 

I’ve had letters from all but one of the university choices to say they have received my application and its being considered… things are moving along.

I saw “Up in the Air” this week and loved it so much despite not really being a George Clooney fan. I’ll get ‘round to writing about that eventually. 

I start volunteering with the infant feeding team at their beast feeding drop in clinic tomorrow. Excited about that – hopefully I’ll learn a lot.

Oh oh AND … pitchers and catchers report in less than a month!! (Feb 19th) BASEBALL IS COMING

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m of to bed because I have to be up early in the morning. I’m not a morning person and I spent tonight babysitting a four year old who is an expert in running rings around me and his uncle KM.

 Tired… oh so tired!

Ali xX

Inspire me ….

Don’t Stop Believin’ (Journey)

Just a small town girl
Livin’ in a lonely world
She took the midnight train goin’ anywhere

Just a city boy
Born and raised in south Detroit
He took the midnight train goin’ anywhere

A singer in a smoky room
A smell of wine and cheap perfume
For a smile they can share the night
It goes on and on and on and on

Strangers waiting
Up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searching in the night
Streetlight people
Living just to find emotion
Hiding somewhere in the night

Working hard to get my fill
Everybody wants a thrill
Payin’ anything to roll the dice just one more time

Some will win, some will lose
Some were born to sing the blues
Oh, the movie never ends
It goes on and on and on and on

Strangers waiting
Up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searching in the night
Streetlight people
Living just to find emotion
Hiding somewhere in the night

Yeah, you got it. I had to post some Glee after tonight and anyways this song has always rocked. It’s punchy and I had to post SOMETHING else after that last post. I’m going to bed singing this song. I could wake up in an altogether better place tomorrow.

Ghosts.

“…speak no more:
Thou turn’st mine eyes into my very soul;
And there I see such black and grained spots
As will not leave their tinct.”
Hamlet
Queen Gertrude
Act 3 Scene 4.

My goal of 2010 with no panic attacks crashed and burned today. I’m terrified. I don’t want to leave the house. I’m so close to throwing everything away. Why? Because I’m full of back emotional holes that are eating me alive. I’d give anything for it to stop. I wish I could just stop. No, I’m not saying I’m about to take a dive off a railroad bridge or anything… but sometimes I wish I could just… pause… feel peace… stop fighting the bad guys… the demons inside my own head. Do I know why this is happening to me? Sure, but I don’t know how to beat it, and some days I don’t think I’m worth a fight.

I wish I could just block it out… a bar… and a few bottles of vodka are starting to look really frikking good. The rational part of me knows I only crave vodi when my head is spinning and I’m screwed up about something. I can’t start down that road not even one step. I’m scared of myself.

I spent the day trying to push this urge away, drown it out. Hell I almost begged Gadget Guy to stay at his machine and call me, frightened to even let him leave to grab some breakfast for goodness sake. I shook, my heart racing, my head just hurting, fighting the urge to throw up… fighting the urge to stop talking, stop telling someone about the things inside my head and just leave. Finally, I feel asleep. Thank you God. I woke up three or so hours later feeling physically well, turned to my usual chick flick Bewitched style TV; something cheerful and fun that I don’t have to think about to much. Don’t need to focus to understand. I watched a few episodes of Glee. Now I can’t tell you if I love this show or hate it. I can’t make my mind up, but I do know as a distraction it worked well. I might have to add the DVD’s to the Bewitched shelf of shame reserved for just these occasions.

I want to hold on so badly: to the future I’m trying to build, to the belief I’m a better than this. I’m worth more but it would be so easy to just let go. Dear God… somebody… hold me and don’t let me go…

I know I sound like a melodramatic basket case with a bad case of the emo. I’ll explain… I’ll try. I want to talk. Tonight I just don’t have the time or mental faculties for a long and complicated story that I don’t really understand….

I’m sorry.

Ali

One of the guys

I’ve spent a lot of today eating rubbish, drinking Coke and watching the game. How about them Vikings huh? Oh and did you see Brett Favre’s version of “Pants on the Ground” which was, I’ll admit was a lot cooler once I understood the reference.  Hay, I live in the UK – I’m allowed to be out of the American Idol loop, even though I have to admit a bit of a crush on Simon Cowell that calls my sanity into question. I went straight onto the Jets/Chargers match up without even a timeout.  After that, I was suffering from a massive testosterone overdose and I had to turn to a couple of hours of  Dress Heels Jewelry and “who are you wearing?” in the form of the Golden Globes Red Carpet show just to remind myself that I am, in fact, a chick. Previous years I’ve been all over the fashion and the glamour, even the gossip. Did you see Mariah Carrey’s dress not quite covering her tits enough to stop me mistaking her for someone who has sex for a living? Do you, like me, prefer Drew Barrymore with dark hair, love that Sandra Bullock came dressed in purple (actually I just love Sandra Bullock… yay for her win).  I’m totally made up that Helen Mirren and Meryl Streep were giving lessons in classy as I think I’ll add them to my role models list. And as for Heidi Klum…well that girl just owns sexy in a way that makes her destined to be envied but never equaled by us mere mortal women (God like powers is the only reasonable explanation, clearly!)…  but this year i have a confession…*whispers* I had more fun with the football. Crap… what happened to me!? 

While  I am not your pink fluffy kind of girly princess  (make it purple and sparkly and I’m so there) its true my reasons for choosing which side to root for this NFL filled Sunday were totally based on female logic. I don’t like Tony Romo and the Vikings wear purple. I liked the Jets when I was in NJ because my brother/dad loved the Giants and I’m contrary like that.   And yet, recently I’m becoming more and more disconcerted by the realization that, in a disturbing number of ways, stereotypically at least, I’m so the guy in this relationship.  You know, the one who refuses to cook, doesn’t know how to work a washing machine, almost kicks KM out of the room when its “baseball time”, can’t hear a thing when the football’s on TV and NEVER “has a headache”. I’m seriously in danger of letting out a belch or two without gagging. if I suddenly start scratching my groin in public SHOOT ME ! 

Before you start thinking… saying KM is my bitch out loud… he is in no way shape or form feminine. Seriously, he could be mistaken for a cave man. Dude speaks fluent grunt, laughs at his own farts and won’t wear pants if he thinks he can get away with it. Far be it from me to insult his manhood and I’d advise you not to do so either, but that’s enough about him.

When did I lose this sense of myself as a woman?  When I think about It, I laugh at the ridiculous notion that anyone could find me attractive and not see me as defunct, broken, useless, carrying too much weight with awful tits.

My body failed to develop any form of breasts. My mum took me to buy a bra more out of pity (everyone else had them) than actual need. She kept telling me reassuring stories about how all the women in my family got theirs after they had kids (fat lot of use that is to me now. Nature is withholding motherhood and apparently breasts too!?) Yeah it sucked, but most people get over it right? Not me. I can’t stand mine; I can’t cope with anyone drawing attention to them in any way. I get thrown off… shudder… and have to look the other way if God forbid KM should touch them even though I enjoy the sensation. It’s nuts and that’s why I will personally bitch slap anyone who says I’m planning a boob job for anyone other than me. Let’s face it I’m fighting a losing battle really, when the pair of us could be the reincarnation of Shrek and Fiona shaving side by side in the bathroom mirror each morning… no, I haven’t quite been reduced to that yet.

I seriously need to… what is the opposite of man up??

Ali xX

American on purpose.

First of all, The Late Late Show is one of my favorite things that is regularly recorded on Gadget Guy’s TiVo. This guy makes me laugh till my sides hurt and I’m begging for mercy. He is the best bullshit artist I’ve ever seen, From Scotland like me AND he actually got US citizenship… uh huh… fell in love with the US in his teens LIKE ME… dude might be my new idol! I knooooooow I just had to get a hold of this book.

If your expecting a laugh a minute, a tale that’s an extension of the show that you’re used to, you better put this thing down and walk away now. This is a gritty, dirty, messy story of a Glasgow lad’s journey from rags to riches past the killer duck acid trip and through the selfish self inflicted misery of the hell that is alcoholisms. Put bluntly, Craig Ferguson is a talented jammie wee bastard. He’s gawd dam lucky and he knows it.

I found his style of writing as easy to read as his nightly monologues are to listen to, even if the subject matter was often more gruesome. You have to admit the guy’s grew balls in his old age. Not the macho bullshit kind, but the genuine dragged himself through rehab by his bootlaces, stayed sober despite the odds and achieved his own personal American dream through a combination of  luck, talent, hard work and Scottish charm. His capacity to fall deeply and hopelessly in love may have saved him several times, but the great love affair that permeates the pages is the one between him and his adopted country. American On Purpose. He most defiantly is a choice made out of a genuine allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and the republic for which it stands. This is something we most definitely share.  He is able to put into words the odd sense of lost I’ve felt ever since I left New Jersey in 1999: “Like many people who come to New York to live and leave before they really want to, I spent the next 3 or 4 years with the vague feeling that there was a party going on somewhere and I was not at it.”  I still feel this way but I could never explain it before. The book is towards the end a love letter to the land of the free written by a man who seems relieved he is finally fully accepted in a place he felt he belonged all along. His eyes are open to all the good things many Americans may take for granted as their birthright. His pursuing US citizenship is the ultimate form of flattery and you should feel as good about it as he does.

Craig himself says that his heart may be Scottish but his soul is American, which means “between safety and adventure: I chose adventure.”

That feels about right to me

Like him I am Scottish by birth and I dearly hope one day to become American… on purpose.

Ali xX

Inspire me …

“Just like diamonds, we must endure the trials of heat & pressure to become what we are meant to become”

~ Anon