iwannapuppy

waaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnntttttt.

words. can’t get enough of people that know how to use them.

soooo. this nablopomo is beginning to wear on me ever so slightly. mostly because i don’t have enough intelligent stuff to say every night, cause i’m tired. i said it all in the day. at my job that pays me the big bucks to theorize, plan, create process, organize and manage. so at night, i’m just a little sleepy.

and i had my left over like date night butternut squash linguine from last night for dinner. carb and butter overload.

basically, all i need to say about what i am thinking is this: i need to date, love, marry a writer.

and if jason schwartzman wasn’t already my perfect mate, he is now. because anyone that questions my need to be with a writer has not seen bored to death on hbo.

and now, i must cancel my cable because the season is over. and i really can no longer justify paying all that money to watch friends, seinfield, the office, and everybody loves raymond reruns on tbs every night.

meanwhile, you can take writer to include song writer. cause, well, duh.

i’m here, mr. writer…right here, waiting. i laugh loudly, but you’ll get used to it, promise. come find me!

it is what it is. and it’s just instantly there.

and if you shake your heart enough, she will appear. tonight i think i’ll be staying here.

ok, so i know i promised you a super sleuth story. but, after a big huge date night like meal (cheese, wine, salad, wine, butternut squash linguine, wine, and some chocolate thing in a coffee cup that was like half cooked brownie mix, ie:heaven) i am in a food coma, which is affecting my patience for my own stories. alas,  my friends, the crime scene murder mystery will have to wait. ok, you’re right. not murder.

so, this ‘feeling’ thing i guess gets you somewhere. like, through things. embracing them has apparently made me move forward. not on, because well, that suggests like, getting over. and this is something (and i wrote someone just then, and had to correct. total freudian slip) i don’t want to get over. 

so yea, i’ve moved forward. and it is what it is. but this time, in a ‘i’m not putting up a wall’ it is what it is, ignoring feelings as a way to avoid disappointment, or heartbreak. but a different kind of is what it is. like a ‘it is what it is,’ forgot i wasn’t thinking about it way. like it pleasantly, and nondescriptly dropped off my list of things to remember to think about. and that was, nice. well, i didn’t even realize it really.

until this morning. when i got out of the shower, at 6:22 am, and *f*l*a*s*h* you were there. in my head. like, why? just there. in the front of my brain. and then i realize that 14 minutes earlier i awoke from one of those completely and utterly real dreams that later, when you remember it, you can’t remember right away if that memory was because it happened, or because you dreamed it.

and i sighed, embraced it, and kept going, kept moving. and proceeded to have a totally, outrageously busy day at work. meeting with my boss’ boss, employee year end performance reviews, 45 minutes total of non meeting time in ten hours, plus ninety five “must do today”s on my list kind of day. an life went on.

until in a double whamie kind of way jason schwartzman began singing to me on the burnt orange sunset drive home through berkeley while staring across the bay at my city. he sang, “for a second there i thought you disappeared. it rains a lot this time of year… and miss you, i’m going back home to the west coast. i wish you would have put yourself in my suitcase.”

and i forgot again, if you were right there, in the front of my brain, all over again because it happened, or it was a dream.

i felt, and therefore learned, two things today: the west coast is home. and it was a dream.

going back home to the west coast…

west coast- coconut records.

wish after wish after comet tailing wish

so sleepy.

last night was a night that campfire stories are made of. well, maybe not campfire. maybe, um, coffee, or having beer, or ice cream, or whatever.

it involved an east bay pick up, a mocktoberfest costume purchase, a pizza party, a middle of the night drive across the golden gate, a meteor shower with comet tails, cozy laying with three on the hood of the focus, ghoststorytelling, laughing, a moment of common obsession for a 1996 movie soundtrack, playing the air piano and violin, approaching a garage door crime scene, super sleuthing through the crime scene with a 1.5 hour alarm count down, a blue bottle coffee and banana nut muffin, east bay drop, and off to work.

this super sleuth story deserves a full, well written post. but, i’m sleepy. so, please, handle those horses, and your detective story curiosities will be settled tomorrow eve.

“i think that neko case should be playing everytime i look at the stars.” – matthewfleming

stargazing and dreammaking

tonight i am defying the logic of a 5:30am weekday alarm and driving up north, across the gg, in the meeeeddddddiilllleeee of the night to see the leonid meteor shower. with ebMatt and jess.

welcome night to remember forever, and next day to wish i were sleeping.