mute. with the closed captions turned off.

Grrrrr. That's what I have been doing lately. Really. My once sighs of frustration have officially morphed into animal form. I caught myself literally growling today...more than once. Schmort can vouch for this werewolf-like behavior. By the way Schmort...thanks for sharing your brie and crackers with me today. Fancy hors d'oeuvres always make me feel better when I'm stressed. You sure know how to treat a girl right. Anyway. The Growling. Sort of sounds like some cheap horror film that focuses on girls' boobs and masochistic, raunchy sex scenes rather than the villain itself.

"Crystal Wade please dial 3803". "Crystal Wade to the front lobby, Crystal Wade to the front lobby". "This message is...URGENT...". "You have...7 NEW messages..." (insert werewolf growl). Today was one of those days where I wish I were Mogwai. You know...the Gremlin. All I would need to do is add water and I could multiply myself. Although...they would be much meaner, uglier versions of myself. At least they would get shit done. They or I? I don't know...can I take credit for clones of myself?

I can't sleep. I've tried Tylenol PM, Benedryl, NyQuil, alcohol, herbal teas....nothing. I really don't want to take Ambien because I'm horrified that I'm going to start sauteing cigarette butts in massive amounts of butter. Nothings worse than unconscious fat and nicotine intake. Or maybe I am sleeping. I don't know to be honest. The strangest things have been happening to me lately. I'm having the most realistic dreams ever. For the past two weeks I have been having a hard time deciphering dreams and reality. It's quite possible this is some sort of psychosis developing. Most forms of psychosis aren't detectable until your mid-twenties anyway. Maybe I just have a lot on my mind, and I'm trying to process it in my unconscious? Shit. I don't know. There have been several times this week where I have imagined that conversations/events have taken place, but actually hadn't. Reality versus imagination. Total. Freaking. Blur.

I've decided I like summer a whole lot better than winter. I decided that a long time ago I think, but it's become apparent now.
I miss lazy days by the pool.
I miss the smell of sunscreen.
I miss the smell of barbecue although I don't eat barbecue.
I miss bloodshot eyes from chlorine.
I miss walking up to the highest point I could find to watch the sunset.

Nostalgia hit me like a freight train this week. All I want to do is surround myself with old familiarity. I've been looking at old photographs, reading old letters. Why don't people write letters to each other anymore? I miss that.

Screws are loose. Marbles are lost. Lights are out. Something. I'm lost in a whirlwind of imagination and past memories. Nothings current. Nothing makes much sense. Maybe I'm overwhelmed with work and my personal life. I don't know. I wish I didn't make things so difficult. I wish I knew when to shut the hell up. I never know when to shut the fuck up. I never know when to hit the mute button.

I remember when my biggest concern was transferring my favorite comic from the Oregonian onto my multicolored silly putty. I remember not wanting to mix my silly putty too much because the bluish-pink swirl would soon turn to solid purple, and then the fun was over. That's how I feel now. Like a big blob of purple with the worst comic sloppily smeared onto the surface. I'm like the mirror image of Garfield with the color worn out. I'm sorry if you don't know what I'm talking about...I've never been good with metaphors.

I self sabotage. I make myself purple on purpose.