Blunderland

I had a dream last night.

It wasn’t a flying dream, a sex dream, one of those dreams where I dream friends of mine accidentally get pregnant, or even a partial nightmare of when another friend [finally] comes out of the closet.

No. This dream was an extended philosophical discussion between myself and my dreaming self about ‘Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs’ with bits of insight from Kierkegaard and Nietzsche and how their perspectives apply to present day– more particularly, my present day. I even ran a comparative analysis of how Leslie’s selfless nature works within the “framework of the Hierarchy of Needs”. The really odd part of the dream is I know not jack shit of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, Kierkegaard, or Nietzsche. I couldn’t remember the words or their names this morning when I woke up. The only thing I could remember was ‘Hierarchy of Needs’, ‘Kirkgird’ and and the guy with the German last name that starts with an “N” and it’s not Freud. Seriously. I had to Google the misspellings to just to find out what and who was going on in my head.

Parts of this dream started coming back to me during the icicle shower. Kaly woke up late, so her shower time got mixed up with my shower time and considering the temperature of the water flowing from her shower head was set to ’scawld’, I lucked up and got the shower of liquid nitrogen– my testicles are still hibernating. Other parts of the dream came back to me during the horrendously traffic-free, brutally peaceful, excruciatingly quiet, four-minute commute home.

My simple interpretation of this dream is basically I need to get a life. Or at the very least start experimenting with acid and circus animals.

Other fun stuff, Stacey yakked at least seventy-five times today at the office. Although she wanted to play the martyr and work through the pain and the goo, I sent her home early. Get this, she blamed ME for HER stomach virus. I think it was more of the power of suggestion. Just because I moaned about having a stomach virus this weekend she thought it best to carry it to the next level and actually get ugly and really noisy with it. Being the trooper that she is, she checked her email, from home no less, and wrote me back later this evening…

Stacey to me 7:08 pm (2½ hours ago)

why is there a ‘training krista on CC” again on my to-do list??

Mark to Stacey 7:10 pm (2½ hours ago)

I didn’t see it there when I added it.

Also the task I just sent (XYZ newsletter) it needs to be ready by Thursday, not Friday. my bad.

Stacey to me 7:11 pm (2½ hours ago)

I trained her this past Friday.

Ok on the thursday.

I still am vomiting/can’t eat. thanks for that.

Mark to Stacey 7:32 pm (2½ hours ago)

oh.

maybe I had lapsed out of my mind on friday and was visiting an orange grove in the southern tip of Cuba with a beautiful Spanish girl named Fermoza Miguel Hernandez (her friends call her Veronica) and yet while her beauty may have been striking and she was ever so nice, I was told by several of the locals that she may have rotten crotch and to proceed with caution although many of the locals who told me this were amped up on pomegranate-flavored heroin and were talking to me, very frankly I might add, telepathically. From this incident I learned never trust a Cuban national heroin addict with a fruity scent and a red juice coming out of his mouth. Fermoza Miguel Hernandez (I call her Fermoza Miguel Hernandez, because apparently I’m not her friend) was ever so pleasant and very Cuban (in a Cuban sort of way).

or maybe i forgot.

…and I never yakked. I just had bubbly diarrhea accompanied with a few too many sharts.

Stacey to me 8:33 pm (1½ hours ago)

I don’t know how you just did it… but you just made me laugh out loud in the middle of me crying.

Thank you.

Mark to Stacey 8:34 pm (1½ hours ago)

was it the orange grove or the bubbly diarrhea?

I’m glad I made you laugh.

Another bright spot of the day was when I got an generic mailing list type email from an accountant I used to work with five years ago and haven’t seen since. His email was offering holiday well wishes and a .PDF containing helpful tax tips for 2008, it was personal because it started off “Dear ,
We here at ITCCPA wish you and yours the happiext (sic) of holidays.” and it was signed, cleverly enough “Many Happy Returns!”

I wrote him back telling him how much I really missed him and asked him how his kids were. I asked him how his lovely wife was doing (that was sort of tongue-in-cheek ’cause the girl had the personality of a dead and bloated sea cow). I also told how him great it would be to get together after the holidays and catch up. How we should finally go out to dinner and drinks in Atlanta like we talked about a few years back.

I hit send, feeling good about myself that I went distance, albeit a short distance, of trying to reconnect.

My damned email got bounced back to me as undeliverable.

So there you have it. Today I: participated in a doctoral level discussion of Philosophy, experienced Navy Seal training in the shower, made someone vomit (really loud), healed the sick, got spammed by an old friend, reconnected to a friend only to have my little twinkling bit of humanity get lost in the ether of the ‘net.

Oh. And wrote a blog post.

PS- To any friend that I spammed today with a newsletter. I miss you. I love you. We need to get together after the holidays and catch up! Seriously.

This morning as I was brushing my teeth I caught a glimpse of what three months of going to the gym has produced… I got me some damn sexy armpits. All this hell for pretty pits?!

If I work really hard, by Christmas I should have the crotches between my knuckles looking almost Supermanish.

Kaly at the beach [long] before braces:

Kaly at the beach after braces:

I left off the in-between picture where her teeth looked like white hockey pucks.

Miss Awesome is quite beautiful if I do say so myself.

“We now rejoin our regularly scheduled program, now in progress.”

Well Thor hasn’t kicked my ass. Over a month later and I’m still going to the gym. I’ve already dropped five pounds and where there used to be manboobs now looks like a pair of steel Frisbees. Sorta. If you look at them in just the right (dim) light and squint.

My apologies for the drought of posts. I decided a long time ago that when I’m down, it’s best not to write. And more importantly it’s best not to write about being down.

Looks like tonight I’m probably going to break that rule. Although don’t be surprised if I delete this sucker in the near future!

Long story short… I’ve been depressed. Not suicidal or anything with any teeth or drama, but I haven’t been myself in well over a year. Thinking back, I’m pretty sure my mom’s death was the kick off point, but over the past several months– hell since January, I’ve been my own worst enemy.

Hanging with friends/relatives has been especially tough because I [am? was?] so disengaged. The more disengaged I felt, the more isolated I wanted to be. Leslie noticed. Even Kaly has asked me if I was going to be alright.

Creatively I’ve stopped dead in my tracks. This may sound odd but there have been days where it’s actually hard to talk, let alone write. Not to mention I’ve pretty much given up shooting, for pleasure anyway. I haven’t picked up the camera– just to shoot for fun– in months! If you go to my Flickr photostream I swear you’ll hear a lone wolf howl off in the distance.

Joining the gym was more psychological than physical. It was a change. An incredibly painful, praying for a visit from the Vicodin bunny, change at first, but one that may be doing some good.

Now that I’ve got that off my chest… my steel plated… rock solid… bronzed, chest-o’-glory, maybe this block will move on.