Fuck you voices in my head

I get wrapped up in my head sometimes. So wrapped up the rest of the world drops away and becomes hazy and unreal. I replay conversations, script new ones that will never happen, turn memories over and over like worry stones.

Tonight was one of those in my head nights. Started on the drive to work, navigating through the dark to my florescent lit cubicle for a few hours of unreal reality. Lost in the last year, trying to sing along with the radio to ground myself. Lost. Lonely. Aching.

I wonder if the people who populate my mind talk to me in the dark.

Am I just a shadow?

An Open Letter to Francis Ford Coppola

Dear Francis Ford Coppola, 

You Sir, owe me an apology for the hour and 20 some minutes of my life I will never get back after watching "Twixt" during a fit of insomnia. 

I naively believed that with the combination of your historically significant cinematic achievements, the occasionally fantastic performances of Val Kilmer, and the always charming Ben Chaplin, I would be in for a late night treat. I was even eager to see what the young and talented Elle Fanning had to offer. 

The answer? Not much.

Except for a brief few moments during which Kilmer as "Hal Baltimore" (dear God was there an "Alex Delaware" novel next to your writing desk at some point?) riffs opening lines at his computer screen in a refreshingly funny and relaxed manner reminiscent of "Real Genius" and "Willow," the movie was confused, poorly acted, visually ridiculous and overloaded with attempts at symbolism, religious fanaticism, and maybe time travel, but that last part might be a reach because honestly, I don't have the foggiest idea (see what I did there? Referencing "fog?" No fog on the lake!) how the mass murder and the kids living across the lake (are they really vampires? Really?) could be in the same place and time based on the newspaper clippings. Just because the clothing and motorcycle would not be historically accurate.

And trying to turn "V" into "Vickie" AND Poe's late wife/cousin all at the same time? No. Just, no.

Since I cannot reclaim the lost time spent waiting for some glimmer of greatness in this piece of digital wreckage, all I can ask is whether or not there is a specific combination of pharmaceuticals or a cocktail of some nature that would make this film make sense.

Ben Chaplin should play Edgar Allan Poe again, in a better film. He was great. The bright orange lantern in every scene was distracting and unnecessary.

Val Kilmer tried. At least I know he's still alive.

And Elle Fanning has many years to grow her craft beyond this. So she'll be fine.

I'm waiting for that apology.

Should I try to fuck James Deen?

So I read Jezebel and found out that James Deen has an open casting call for amateur partners with whom to film porn scenes. It clearly says he'll do all types.

I'm so tempted to apply.

Of course my husband would not approve.

But I keep thinking about it. Things like "if I lose another ten pounds or another inch on my waist, I'll apply." Or, "it might restart my libido after the whole mono fiasco."

Then I wounder about birth control, because I'm not on any. And that would suck, being the old lady that got knocked up by James Deen.

And then I masturbate to James Deen porn and the though cycle starts all over.

The article in Jezebel had pictures of him cuddling kitties. This didn't help my obsession.

November, damn, the year is almost over

We made it through Halloween this year without a natural disaster, so that should count for something. But I still woke up this morning with my heart in my throat trying to figure out how we are going to pay electric, car insurance, and my husband's DUI fees. Not to mention buy food. At least it is warm enough so that there is no need to start the pellet stove. And I'm trying to be very conservative with oil because I have no idea how we are going to afford that this winter.


So in the spirit of November and challenges and Thanksgiving... I'm doing my hardest to remain positive.

This  morning I started a 30 day plank challenge. I will get this body in great shape somehow.

I printed out a 14 months check-off calendar to keep track of my hoop practice.

I got a long wonderful cuddle session with the Wildflower Child before starting our day. And she ate the oatmeal I made for breakfast.

These are good things.

Last night I actually dressed up for Halloween for my office costume contest. Came in second. Lost the $20 gift card by one vote.

Every year I think I'll try participating in NaNoWriMo, and then I get overwhelmed and don't even try. So this year I'm saying that the plank challenge is enough. Fuck, just getting to the end of the year with a husband still in the ARD program and a roof over my head will be enough.

I'm really dreading the holidays.