So, I've decided to compile a list of pat answers to give when asked about why my wardrobe consists mostly of black...

1. It's a conversation starter (I've used this one today)
2. I'm allergic to pastels.
3. My religion prevents me from wearing khaki. (This one may not be so good...Then I'll have to think of a weird, but relatively
non-threatening religion that would fit. Scientology?....nah...)
4. I'm in mourning for JFK.
5. Black doesn't show up on radars.
6. My clothing is coated in a black substance that prevents the bug the government planted in my spine from transmitting signals.
7. It will allow the mothership to identify me.
8. It's slimming; I actually weigh 700 pounds. The black conceals it REALLY well.
9. Saves time. I'm a cat-burglar by night.

...Ok, that's all I have for that right now. May think up more later.

I have completed my mission of finding firewood. (Believe me, it seemed impossible for a while there.) Fire is good.
My next mission... Hand-held tape recorder for notes...

I feel the need to record the dream I just had...

It starts out mundane enough with my grandfather and I watching television. This is something that occurred often in my visits to my grandparents. Me on the couch, him in his easy chair. For some reason in this dream, the mundane sort of turns to the surreal. One moment, I'm looking over at the easy chair and seeing the very real image of my mother's father and the next, when I look over, I see a very thin oriental man in oriental robes, a fu manchu mustache and a very long wispy beard. He is balding but has a little white hair around his head. He wears a cap similar to a yamulka. In the dream, I am not shocked. I just take it for granted that this is my grandfather.

Apparently, this grandfather isn't married and the only human interaction he has day to day is a boy visits often and sometimes stays the night. I say boy, but in fact in the dream neither of us are too young. I am in my teens and he is around twenty. The boy, I never know his name, holds disdain for me because I am not the usual oriental maiden. I'm not subservient, nor quiet.

My grandfather attempts to put us together a lot. He (my grandfather) speaks English in a quiet voice and has a very serene air about him. I'm sort of bored during this visit, so I don't argue with him when he keeps getting the boy to entertain me.

Meanwhile, for some reason, the boy has a very large and recent scar on his arm. The scar itself is red, but not necessarily infected. It's in the shape of a fat lightning bolt and the top seems to be the head of an eagle or some such powerful bird. I've noticed it, but I don't mention it.

During one of the sessions with the boy, we are in the living room sitting on the couch that has been pulled out into a bed. (I know what you are thinking and before you say anything, no sexual intercourse appears in this dream.) I'm painting my nails and he is toying with a knife. The knife is mostly straight but the tip is curved. I don't remember the conversation we have, but I know is veers to the occult. To prove that I am just as good as he is, I am willing to have a scar carved into my arm much as he has. However, my grandfather is involved somehow and mentions that the boy needs to have his wound reopened. I don't know why, but we both take it in stride. I'm handed the knife and the boy instructs me as to how shallow the cut needs to be. He also points out where in his scar the cut is already deep and that I don't need to make it any deeper. I think he thinks that I will be scared off, but with a steady hand I draw another line through his scar with the knife.

This seems to have impressed him and he is more easy going with me. In fact, I have left the room and come back to find him going through my nail polish and picking out ones that look blood red. His plan is to do the same rite for me, only with the nail polish instead of the knife. For some reason, we do not do the rite for me. I think it's because I refuse the nail polish and he refuses to use the knife on me.

We go back to conversing on the bed. He leans back against some pillows and is getting blood everywhere. I insist on bandaging the wound. He says something to the effect of good luck because I won't find any bandages in the house, but I end up making some from packing tape and folded paper towels. I don't put neosporin on it, for fear that the anti-biotic may somehow affect the shape of the wound, but I bandage it tightly. Then I wake up...

I don't normally remember my dreams unless they are really weird. This one isn't as weird as my normal ones, but I felt the need to record it, just because I remembered it.

I've come to another realization....

During the years I have worked with this company, coworkers have made several comments on my seeming change of character. They say that first I was quiet and then I was the social butterfly. Then I got anti-social, and that now I am more forthcoming. I used to take it as bullshit, because I don't feel I have changed at all. I realized I have and now I realize why.

First I was quiet: I'm usually quiet when surrounded by strangers. I have to feel how the crowd is before I know I can be me.

Then I was the social butterfly: I made friends and acquaintances, and even went out and partied with them. I joked and laughed with almost everyone unless they were just mean people.

Then I got anti-social: I realized the rumors that were flying around about me and things I said at a party and realized it's a no-no to let your guard down around people you work with because they can use it against you. Even if they don't have anything, they can make something up. Don't do anything and then they can't even make things up about you, because it's obvious that you don't do anything.

Now I am more forthcoming: Apparently, I had forgotten the rule I made for myself earlier. I've even forgotten with whom it's okay to share secrets. I haven't gotten myself in too deep, but I have once again surrounded myself with the dreaded people and am finding that I like to have people to joke with.

...And now? Since I haven't gotten myself in too deep, do I pull out and retreat to the safety of my anti-social shell? Or, do I try to smooth things over and and try to remember who not to tell things to...?

I suppose if I am going to be antisocial again, I need to get some more books to read and burn some more music....

I've come to the conclusion that there's nothing that TBS Superstation won't put together with a movie....This morning I saw a commercial for "Movie & a Makeover".

Don't they already have "Dinner & A Movie"?...

Personally, I'm waiting with baited breath for "Movie & a High Colonic."

I don't really have anything to update with, so I am just going to post a few
sites of note:

Very sick, very funny comics

Another kind of sick and fun place

There ya go kids....Have fun.