Activating the Hermit

Living in California means becoming a hermit and becoming a hermit means re-immersion to blogging.

I don’t know why, but when I live in Colorado blogging loses all appeal.

It’s August 10th (2011!!!). I’m no longer in Colorado anymore. Where did the last two and a half months go?


I can’t even process what I need to process–can’t even think about thinking about the memories I want to freeze. TOO MUCH TO DO TOO MUCH TO DO. I want to go back to sleep. But I don’t, because this morning I overslept by THREE hours as I was literally trapped in my dream.

Does that ever happen to anyone but me? It only happens when I have a sinus infection from hell (that tends to only ever be brought on when I move from Colorado Springs to Orange County) and so my face weighs five times more than it normally does and it’s like in the process of sleeping through the Ambien clutch my mind becomes IMPLANTED into the my mother’s guest bed aka The Wanna Be Cloud of Celestial Glory pillows, so that when the Ambien fades off I’m STUCKSTUCKSTUCK in whatever dream I’d been previously blocked off from (thanks to the beauty of Ambien) and for the first time in months I’m FORCED to actually experience my dream.

And if it’s your first night back in your childhood home of Orange County after living in Colorado Springs where a stupid boy lives who you had a stupid dumb dumb crush on (for lack of a more appropriate term) who supposedly had a crush on you (I’m stretching life here) but was scared away by you being your wacko self and he really wasn’t even all that wonderful (if a boy cannot handle your crazy quirks than he is not worthy of your crazy love) but regardless for two months you built this boy up to be such a wonderful thing–such a beautiful concept–that even though you’re fully aware that the boy is not the lovely boy you manifested in your head, you still let yourself drift off into the What Ifs, Maybe Then, Blah Blah I Am A Dumb Ass tangents…

So, if it’s your first night after THAT (and that was perhaps 8% of the fabulous absurdity of what was my summer in Colorado), then you’ll most likely have a twelve hour dream (as in the dream feels like it’s twelve hours long, like it begins at 6pm and ends at 6am) that takes place in your beloved Colorado mountains in the boy’s fake Colorado mansion (complete with a casino because you just stayed in Las Vegas for two days so obviously casinos are on the brain) where you sob to the boy’s poser mom (who strangely resembles Meredith from Janet Fitch’s Paint It Black) because in the beginning of the dream the boy was so so so swooned by your freak show twirls but in the midst of your final spin he VANISHED and you haven’t seen him again.

And you know, it was a fairly wonderful dream, pretty accurate in terms of emotions and real-life character feelings and my desperation for Colorado, BUT TO BE STUCK IN THE TORTURE OF UNEXPLAINED AMBIEN-PUMPED UP HEARTBREAK FOR AS LONG AS I WAS….???

It was pretty dumb.

Why am I blogging about my dream?

How did I even get on the topic of my dream?

Oh, right. I want to go back to sleep. But I don’t, as I really rather not get trapped in another I Miss Colorado I Love Boys Dream.


I think I need to make a list.

Current Life Goals (AKA M y To Do List For the Week):

– Compose individual cover letters for at least five different hiring establishments. In other words, FIND A JOB.
– Stop stressing over having turned twenty.
– Get over sinus infection without the help of Dr. Harms and her magical pills.
– Find my Saddleback College parking permit in the black hole of my house.
– Dye my hair.
– Sweet talk the pharmacy into giving me enough Ambien to last me through next week’s cruise.
– Don’t cry.
– Start novel/memoir that professor challenged me to write in the next three months (ha ha ha).
– Write the nine different admission essays required from the three different universities I’ll be applying to this month.
– Bake a batch of lavender walnut scones.

It feels odd to be exposed again.


Rather nice actually. I always appreciate some good hermit time.

Don’t know when I’ll be back again. Wait and see?