A hot mess, perhaps?
I think it's safe to say that I am truly a hot mess.
I took today off, because I didn't feel like dealing with work. Although I didn't get to cook, I did get my car washed, scheduled an early hair appointment and subsequently took some pictures with my sister. They came out nice, even though the stylist trimmed way too much off my hair.
Enough rambling. The actual point of me writing here as opposed to my main blog.
I'm not safe from my dreams.
I chided myself for thinking too hard on the un-crush and now he's buried into my subconcious. I'd been so proud of my superb ability to burn rubber on that issue. But even when I think I'm free, I'm not.
I'm supposed to go to DC in July. In the dream it was July already and I was supposed to be at the 85th anniversary of Z Phi B, but I was in an apartment instead... his apartment. I remember seeing a couple of sorors in the very beginning, but I traipsed off with the un-crush, who took me to a nice delicious, quiet dinner and back to his place. I had on the sexiest blue dress I've ever seen, and my hair was in the straw curls rather than straightened. Anyway, I looked through his billions of CD's made myself a compilation CD to take back to Cali with me when I left. After that it was nothing but sex. That's it. I would wake up in his arms, take a shower, cook some breakfast, and work it all off in bed. And chronology suggested that this took place for a few days. Long story short, I missed my plane, my sorors left without me, and I was stuck in DC. So I just stayed there and got dicked down for another 3 days or something.
The dream didn't suck, but waking up sure did. I woke up pissed as hell. Mainly at myself, because, of course... I'd been over this for 3 days now (or something like that). Just goes to show you, your mind only gets rid of what it really wants to. I'm sitting here thinking I'm all gravy when it comes to him, and his glasses and striped shirt are STILL haunting my ass to this day.
Shit, I give up. Altogether. I'm thru trying to figure it out. Because in real life I'm cool, but the minute my head hits the pillow, I'm less than cool. Ugh.
I hate this shit. I should just go get me some... maybe that'll make it go away.
I took today off, because I didn't feel like dealing with work. Although I didn't get to cook, I did get my car washed, scheduled an early hair appointment and subsequently took some pictures with my sister. They came out nice, even though the stylist trimmed way too much off my hair.
Enough rambling. The actual point of me writing here as opposed to my main blog.
I'm not safe from my dreams.
I chided myself for thinking too hard on the un-crush and now he's buried into my subconcious. I'd been so proud of my superb ability to burn rubber on that issue. But even when I think I'm free, I'm not.
I'm supposed to go to DC in July. In the dream it was July already and I was supposed to be at the 85th anniversary of Z Phi B, but I was in an apartment instead... his apartment. I remember seeing a couple of sorors in the very beginning, but I traipsed off with the un-crush, who took me to a nice delicious, quiet dinner and back to his place. I had on the sexiest blue dress I've ever seen, and my hair was in the straw curls rather than straightened. Anyway, I looked through his billions of CD's made myself a compilation CD to take back to Cali with me when I left. After that it was nothing but sex. That's it. I would wake up in his arms, take a shower, cook some breakfast, and work it all off in bed. And chronology suggested that this took place for a few days. Long story short, I missed my plane, my sorors left without me, and I was stuck in DC. So I just stayed there and got dicked down for another 3 days or something.
The dream didn't suck, but waking up sure did. I woke up pissed as hell. Mainly at myself, because, of course... I'd been over this for 3 days now (or something like that). Just goes to show you, your mind only gets rid of what it really wants to. I'm sitting here thinking I'm all gravy when it comes to him, and his glasses and striped shirt are STILL haunting my ass to this day.
Shit, I give up. Altogether. I'm thru trying to figure it out. Because in real life I'm cool, but the minute my head hits the pillow, I'm less than cool. Ugh.
I hate this shit. I should just go get me some... maybe that'll make it go away.
posted by ~~~. at 11/18/2004 05:41:00 PM
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