Twitter is awesome. (Thanks, Katay, for really introducing me to the concept).
More truth: I have a writing bug at this time of night. Despite being truth and therefore inherently convenient (for a blog post), this is simultaneously not convenient because I really like waking up early. I loved 8 am classes. It’s sickening, really, but morning is so much better than anything else. Except for night. Like around 11 or midnight. So that’s a super frustrating set of preferences to have. It’s like I need two nighttimes, and by nighttimes I mean sleeptimes. And both should begin around 1 or 2 and last until 5 or 6 (morning and afternoon, obviously).
That would work, right? I could become a super-in-tune-with-my-body-yogi-type-of-person. Maybe that’s not exactly what a yogi is. Uhh. Whatever.
Sometimes I like to do yoga in the morning, for about ten minutes. See? I’m well on my way.
Aside: Mailman, the mutinous kitten, is currently in a fight with something in the bathroom, which is awesome, because it just sounds like someone banging and crashing around and I appreciate that, while I’m alone in the house. I have a completely insane cat to protect me and surround me with noise and joy.
So last night, I had a bizarre sci-fi nightmare, which made me feel significantly less like a yogi. Hold on. That is very likely the question of the century. DO yogis have nightmares? It wouldn’t be very… I don’t know… calm of them. Still, this is an important question.
But my sci-fi dream involved a super psycho and malevolent woman (shocking, right? there was an evil mastermind) who would basically turning people into zombies (I’m not even into zombies — I have NEVER seen “The Walking Dead” or any of the all-the-rage vampire movies).
Cat update: Earlier today, he ran straight into the post that resides in the middle of the cabin. It was hilarious. Sometimes he climbs like a fourth of the way up it and then realizes the endeavor is useless. It’s cute. Now he is hiding behind the vacuum cleaner planning his next attack in my vicinity.
The point is that she was just injecting them with something, or forcing them to ingest something — you know, like a date rape drug — and then a little while later they would go all nutso, get crazy strong and eat the people around them. We’re talking Hulk-like, shirt-ripping strong and a ghastly amount of Beast-face transformations among my inner circle of friends. (Ok, subconscious, this is officially my message to you to get a little more creative when you have free reign).
It sounds corny here, I know, but when you’re dreaming and you’re supposed to be the hero who saves the world from all of your best friends who have been date-rape-drugged into eating your flesh, life is less than super fantastic and being cynical or critical is not exactly a cakewalk. What tv show is it where some character decides to change the usage of cakewalk? (I cannot remember proper nouns to save my life).
So I woke up and texted people who I hoped were in approximately the same time zone to reassure me that none of them were zombies and if they were, could they just get on with it, please? Because it’s five in the morning and I really need to sleep or die and that’s just the whole real deal. So follow the path to my blue elephant nightlight — yes, I sleep with a blue elephant nightlight because it’s scary having a mad cat in the house — and devour my flesh asap. K great thanks.
Mad Cat update: Mailman has become distracted by the vacuum cleaner and forgotten to attack my vicinity. Maybe he wore himself out racing around the carpet and running into walls.
I guess maybe all of this means I wasn’t meant to be a yogi after all. And that is the truth. Another truth? I would like all of you to cross your fingers for me. I’m not going to say why, but if you do it and it works, I will. Oh, mystery, what better addition to a free associative blog post?
Less Mad Cat update: He totally forgot the attack and came to purr on my lap. Ferocious. Wow.
Finally, we have come to the end of the free association. Now you know new things about me:
- I do ten minutes of yoga in the morning when I remember, which is usually when I’m sore.
- I nightmare about my friends turning into the Hulk (but weirdly, with faces sort of like the Notre Dame guy — pretty sure this is a politically incorrect detail).
- I sleep with a large blue elephant nightlight.
- I have decided that nightmare should be a verb in the way that dream is a verb.
- I appear to have a fairly inaccurate concept of what a yogi is.
Oh, and these are my favorite babies in the whole world: