Hello morning, I sure missed you last night

A Post-Porn-Orgasm (porgasm?) 20 Minute Nap is sometimes the most amazing thing in the world. Of course, with all things I like and make me feel instantly great (watching porn, a glass of wine, a nap, a latte, a manhattan, wow there are lots of beverages I love...), I personally have to be somewhat judicious in indulging otherwise it becomes excessive in that way where they don't really work anymore. I wish something like eating a salad has that immediate effect. Going for a run can have instant gratification afterwards, but not always during, plus gathering up the motivation to leave the house can be a challenge. This morning I woke up on my own at 6 am, with no alarm, because I was sleeping in the middle room futon, and I didn't feel great but I didn't feel bad. DYA scored a fan for that room last weekend and I don't know why we didn't do that earlier, it makes the temperature so much more bearable. Well, that and it being nearly September so the weather on the outside is somewhat less relentless, even yesterday which was another hot day. Anyway, I woke up and decided to go for a very very long walk, with Sophie, no pressure to run, no ipod to drown out the voices in my head, even if they are sort of scary sometimes, and it was a good way to start the day for both of us. I walked, I chanted a little, I talked to myself, I talked back, I opened myself up to signs from the universe. Sophie especially liked that there was a food kong waiting for her when we got home. I had some sort of vegan flaxy blueberry frozen waffles that weren't bad either. And today, I broke my 2 week streak and I wrote a good solid page of new material in a different chapter. So afterwards, after being up for 3 hours, I decided I deserved a short morning nap before going to the library, before maybe selling more records. Everything I am doing today is for myself and I know that sounds odd and really everything I do is for myself, except it doesn't feel that way -- it feels like I'm doing it for someone else, or out of obligation (to whom? Its not always clear). But regardless, its a pretty exhausting way to live. I used to spend more time looking at where the pattern came from, but lately that seems boring and pointless, so I'm just simplifying things and saying 'stop it, try something else now'. Its funny, the whole behavioral conditioning/cognitive therapy thing, my very first therapist was big on it and when she taught it to me, she joked something about how life is more complicated, I'm not just some pigeon in a Skinner box, and I will always be grateful for that remark because a) it was funny, b) I felt happy she made an esoteric joke and recognized I would get it, and c) sometimes we can get like those pigeons in a Skinner box, even if its not all the time, but I don't know, maybe it is that simple. Other people in my life have mentioned their therapist doing EMDR therapy (which I want to call EPMD therapy, which I think I might prefer, but you knew that given my love of east coast hip hop) and when I read about it, it all seems related. Its all about realizing the Skinner box we've put ourselves in and stopping hitting that damn button, hit a new button when you hear that ding. Its both as hard and as easy as it sounds. My science trivia page-a-day calendar yesterday said that birds aren't really "bird-brained", that given the relative size of their bodies, they are perhaps as intelligent and capable as chimps, but chimps in the rain forest, I learned through the magic of Planet Earth and Richard Attenborough, are vicious about controlling territory and in the battle they will kill a weaker chimp in the rival group and EAT IT. They cannibalize each other for the sake of tree space. I was so horrified, I made myself watch it twice, hoping I had somehow blinked and missed a scene explaining that they were really eating something else.

All this to say is that they say I'm hopeless as a penny with a hole in it. And I got lot of dreams and I ain't really chasing mine. Lately. But I'm running again, I get up, get out and get something, I'll fight it, I'll make it through...I'll be handsome, I'll be beautiful, I'll be happy. And I still love everybody even when I don't feel it, but mostly I'm not feeling it because I've forgotten to think it and I need to say it to remind me. So I did and its true again.

And happy birthday to mintwaster who likes it when I post drunk and no, I'm not drunk, but this post sort of resembles ones when I am.

Somewhere somebody is right, but it isn't here and it's not tonight.

This morning I read only a few pages of Entertainment Weekly during breakfast. I am way behind on the important pop culture matters, though I did spend a bit of time this morning reading about Owen Wilson's suicide attempt.

Today I had to return books to the library, and I was super excited to find Ian McEwan's new novel(la) (On Chesil Beach) which I will probably read in its entirety this weekend. Or hell, even in an afternoon -- its 200 pages, but 200 pages of a 5x7 book with big margins. I also checked out the DVD "Derailed", because it looked like a trashy thriller that might be satisfying to watching during lunch time when I have low expectations. Plus, Clive Owen.

Omg, was this movie bad. Bad bad bad. First off was the rape scene, which is always unfortunate as a moviegoer anyway, but worse when it's unexpected. Then, I pretty much figured out the 'secret' as soon as the plot started to unfold, but instead of turning it off, I decided to watch the rest of the movie on double-speed with subtitles turned on so I could read along, just to see if I would be right or wrong. I watched a 100 minute movie in just over an hour. It didn't really get better, it actually got worse, and didn't pay off in any sort of believable or satisfying way. Even the presence of RZA couldn't save it. It was filmed in Chicago, but that almost made me more cranky, that they ruined it. I should have watched Casino Royale instead (though I was thinking I'd save it for the weekend, hence me getting the movie in the first place).

Last week I watched an amazing movie -- The Host. It was a monster movie, it was a disaster movie, it had political implications, it had unexpectedly hilarious moments, and the special effects weren't too overwhelming. All that for one dollar. I love the redbox rental machine at the grocery store! Except for when I browse and all they have available are straight-to-video titles.

Last night we were watching tv and saw a preview of the new Jodie Foster movie, and I totally want to do a double-feature of it and The Invasion. Except I might want to see The Invasion this weekend. I'm really trying to cram a lot into three days.

Also, this icon is in honor of broqued.