The Dream Man

Anthony worked the landfill job last night from 5:30 pm to 5:30 am. I didn't sleep well, knowing that I was the only line of protection for Oliver.

It didn't help that the dogs kept barking at the back door.

It also didn't help that I was having creepy dreams. Dreams where a man (I don't know who it was, probably a character from the story I'm writing) who was sitting on the edge of my bed and staring. Then he said, "Wake up!". I sat up in bed with a start.

Then Boo hacked, choking on his food, and I thought someone kicked in the back door.

Then Boo walked over the grate in the hallway and I thought it was a person standing outside Oliver's door.

I am not normally so fearful. I'm not afraid of someone breaking in per se. I feel pretty powerful with my shotgun by the bed. I have an emergency plan...hear someone break in, grab the baby, put the armour in front of my bedroom door, lock myself in our bathroom with the shotgun pointed at the door. Pretty thorough, I know. But at 1am when the dream man (literally...he wasn't that good looking...) commanded me awake, I couldn't go back to sleep. I read a little, wrote a little and finally laid in the darkness.

I tossed and turned until 5:45 am. The second Anthony got into bed I felt my whole body relax. I suppose I have gotten used to having another warm body in the bed. I remember when we first started dating, Anthony didn't sleep well. He said it was the rhythm of my breathing that helped him sleep better than he ever had. Maybe I'm having the same effect.

Unfortunately, I had to get up at 6 but I snoozed until 6:30, making me late to Sabrina's to drop off the baby. I pulled out his winter clothes and he looks absolutely adorable. I got stuck behind every school bus on the way to work but I didn't care. The brisk fall air, clear sky's and bright sun started my day in a very happy way.

A good weekend to look forward too. I can't believe its almost Old Campbell County day. PWC Photography will be having a booth. I've already picked out Oliver's outfit as he's wheeled around in this 50's stroller...a car.

As soon as Amanda gets to work, we are heading to Target and Walmart to get supplies for the parade. Hopefully this day will fly but my nights be slow and comforting.

Writing

I've been writing again. A sad tale I can't really go into yet. I can't divulge the meat of my story or I will loss all motivation. The only person I can talk about it to is Anthony. It's interesting, discussing things with him. He and I, we are so different. Everything is shades of gray to me. So much that it makes it hard to disagree with most people. I can always see where others are coming from.
Anthony, on the other hand, is everything in b/w. At least he can debate and concede if he sees my point.
When I feel restless, I write. I need to get out of my head, out of my life, even for a moment. I do this a lot. Sometimes I get obsessed with televisions show and that is my nightly escape. Recently, I've found comfort in the world of Twilight. Once that fever started to wain, I've taken to writing, obsessively.
I've always said I'm at artist without any art. Writing has always been my art and the only thing that turns me into an eccentric artist. By that I mean, the only thing that will keep me up late, typing furiously with a crazed look in my eye. I get so intense I start scribbling on receipts as I drive down the word when I mentally come up with the perfect sentence.
My writing comes in phases. Like I said, only when I'm restless or sad or incredibly busy doing other things. Most of the time, my life is ho-hum and happy, which makes writing incredibly difficult. I can feel that even attempting it will be futile.
I have a million ideas for stories. All sad and morbid. But those are the times that really make you human, which is why I think I'm obsessed with the topic. The problem is, I can never come up with endings. On the off chance that I do, so starts the obsession.
I start doubting myself and kicking myself for not getting myself educated in creative writing. I need to break down and take a creative writing class. I know I had talent. I have to remind myself that not everyone can pen a story start to finish or have the gift of written gab.
I know there must be tons of uneducated writers. I don't know of any though.
I doubt myself and then look back at past journal entries or blog entries and I surprise myself at how profound my writing can be sometimes. I need to hold on to that feeling.

Tangents.

Last sunday, my brother's father died. I have a weird fascination with funerals. They don't bother me, I don't dread them like most. Maybe thats the southerner in me. Funerals mean you get to see all the people you haven't seen since the last funeral.

Keep in mind, I've never lost anyone close to me. That will probably alter my opinion of funerals.

It's been hard being away. I bought both Twilight and New Moon (I only had the last two, borrowing the first from Kat). I have let every free moment, nose in book. It helps make the time pass in a blur.

I have a sick obsession with Twilight. The writing is horrible and probably pretty sexist at times, but I love to escape into a character that is the damsel in distress. I am always the hero, always in charge, always the one doing the saving. It's nice to be, if only for a moment, completely helpless. It's also nice escaping into a world where money is no problem.

Plus, she is a girl who has two completely gorgeous,sexy, rich (Edward) and strong (Edward and Jacob) men competing for her constantly. Who couldn't get lost in that, if only for a moment?

And she's in high school. Enough said.

On the other hand, New moon is the next book I am going to start (I finished Twilight already) and I sort of dread it even though I know the importance of reading it (New Moon comes out 11/20/2009...can't WAIT!)

But it hits too close to home, being left unexpectedly, that numbing, excruciating pain of a broken heart. Some things you never get over completely, I guess.

Anyway, I miss Oliver but Twilight has made it bearable.

My brothers are so sad but being so strong. Even if we've only been a slight distraction, I hope that Mom and I have helped in some way.