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Nov

22

You know those dreams that haunt your whole day?

2010 at 6am     Posted by Rebecca Schinsky

Or the ones you don’t really even remember until you’re going about your day and they just pop back into your mind?

I’ll be having the former today, as I had a bizarre and vivid dream last night that someone contaminated the water supply and it rained goldfish in my shower. I swear, when I went to wash my face this morning, I was bracing myself for fish to come falling out of the faucet.  Convinced that this is just further evidence of the weird place that is my brain, I checked out some dream interpretation sites—okay, I used my googler and went to the first one that popped up—and this is what it says:

To see a goldfish in your dream signifies wealth, success, and pleasant adventures. Alternatively, goldfish represents some emotional matter or valuable insight.

So, I should go buy a lottery ticket?  This can’t be right. That dream was MESSED UP. Let’s try again.

To dream about goldfish predicts that you will come into prosperity and many wonderful and thrilling escapades.

Okay. I still think it should be weirder, but I like this one for “wonderful and thrilling escapades.” Whaddya suppose that means? That I’ll make it through security tomorrow without being fondled by a TSA agent? Or that THIS will be the year that no one dares to utter that they believe Sarah Palin will be the next president during Thanksgiving dinner?  (Can we just pause for a collective shudder there?)

How am I supposed to read today when all I can think about is goldfish plopping out of my shower head? That is NOT the kind of atmosphere I was hoping to create for some time spent with Flannery O’Connor. Perhaps I should give in and buy one of these bad boys?

Let it out folks: weirdest dreams (and your interpretations of them, if you feel like it) to make me feel like (slightly) less of a crazy woman?

To see a goldfish in your dream, signifies, wealth, success, and pleasant adventures. Alternatively, goldfish represents some important emotional matter or valuable insight.
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Yep. Still at it.

2010 at 4pm     Posted by Rebecca Schinsky

People, I took my cell phone to bed last night (something I never, ever do) and played this instead of starting a new book while Bob watched TV.  If I keep going at this rate, I’m going to need an intervention.

Or a marriage counselor.

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Please send help.

2010 at 11am     Posted by Rebecca Schinsky

When I got up yesterday morning (at 6:57, I might add, since my five year old niece had spent the night and woke up DYING to go get some hot chocolate), my plans for the day looked something like this:

  • Feed the niece
  • Take a shower
  • Return the niece to her parents
  • Hit Fountain Bookstore for Galleyfest,
  • Spend the afternoon reading Boneshaker for Cherie Priest’s event on Tuesday
  • Walk the hound
  • Spend quality time with the husband.

I know, it’s exciting stuff.

The morning went along as planned. I fought the Richmond marathon traffic and made it to the bookstore, where I spent a couple hours watching people get excited about free books, performed my own version of “It Had to be Moo” from Sandra Boynton’s new book Amazing Cows, and giggled my head off at bookseller Tess’s “udder dance.”  (People, don’t do funny dances when you think no one is watching. Someone is ALWAYS watching.)

Udder dancing aside, the early part of the afternoon fell right into my plan. But then I came home and made the mistake of listening to a friend who told me how much she loved playing Angry Birds on her phone. And after two months of smugness about my success in not becoming addicted to the smartphone I resisted getting for so long (yep, I was late to the party on that one), it happened.  By the time I went to bed last night, this is what the day’s schedule had become:

  • Feed the niece
  • Take a shower
  • Return the niece to her parents
  • Hit Fountain Bookstore for Galleyfest,
  • Spend the afternoon reading Boneshaker for Cherie Priest’s event on Tuesday. Sit on couch playing Angry Birds for 2.5 hours (I’m ashamed to admit that, but it’s true) while husband studies for licensing exam. Rue my total lack of spacial relations skills.  Shout obscenities as the stupid pigs that just. won’t. die.
  • Walk the hound…while thinking about Angry Birds.
  • Give in to the craving and listen to Christmas music despite personal commitment to saving some dignity and waiting until after Thanksgiving.
  • Spend quality time with the husband. Discover that husband already has Angry Birds on his phone. Sit next to each other on couch playing Angry Birds for another hour. Hate husband for his superior spacial relations skills and ability to make the birds kill the pigs with amazing efficiency. Take turns shouting obscenities.
  • Go to bed thinking of Angry Birds and singing this song, thanks to the aforementioned bookseller Tess.

This is what happens when you get complacent, folks. The addiction creeps in and takes you by surprise.  I think I need an intervention…..or just some good old-fashioned shaming.

For now, I’m off to try to read, but I know those damn birds are lurking around the next corner.

Make me feel better and share an embarrassing addiction?

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Damn the Man. Save the Empire!

2010 at 5am     Posted by Rebecca Schinsky

Because it’s just that kind of day….and I’m pretty sure this was the last time in recorded history that Renee Zellweger’s eyes looked even semi-normal.

Also? Big event day at a bookstore is totally like Rex Manning Day.

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I Can Haz Pillow Talk!

2010 at 5am     Posted by Rebecca Schinsky

My IRL friends like to joke that I eat the internet for breakfast.  On good days, I feel like this is true. You know, those are the days when I’m managing to blog, tweet, respond to email, and somehow READ THE BOOKS that make this whole machine keep spinning in the first place, and I’m doing it productively.

(As opposed to most days, when I’m doing it all and feeling like nothing is getting done. I think there’s something to the idea that multitasking actually makes us less efficient.)

But where was I?  Oh, yes, eating the internet for breakfast.

Those are the good days, but on the bad days, I feel more like the internet has eaten me. Or, my brain, to be more precise.

Those are the days when Bob hands me a cup of coffee, and I respond not with “thank you,” but “I can haz coffee?”  Or when a friend delivers bad news and I say not, “God, I’m so sorry,” but “Oh, sadface.”  I know. It’s bad. The interweb speak is creeping into my daily life.

And now it has made its way into the bedroom.  Read more

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