Spring to your Feet

I started having night terrors in middle school, or at least that's when I became aware of them and could rule out nightmares. For those of you that don't know, night terrors are psychotic smash ups of dream and hallucinations that come about in mid sleep. Normally, the terrorer is awoken with extreme fright and anxiety due to an immediate false doom-thus the terror. In most cases my terrors related to insects and snakes covering my bed or my room and I have to get out immediately.

Sometimes I would wake up and rip my covers off the bed and the pillows too, or I would run out of the room. In any case my heart pounds as adrenaline surges through my body and I have to catch my breath.

Last night at 3:30 I had a night terror. In a dead sleep I dreamt that I could see through the eyes of something entering my house and making its way to my bedroom. Terrified I sprang from bed and wrapped my blanket and sheet around my arm in one motion. I swung open the door to meet this entity head on in the hallway. Seconds later I realized that I was standing alone in the hallway with my blankets wrapped around my arm, heart pounding in the middle of a night terror. I calmly walked back to my room, fixed my covers, and lied down in bed. Whom or what it was I can't say. It was something. I haven't been that scared in awhile. The last terror I had I just sat up and felt as though I was having a heart attack. But this one was different. I was scared, but ready to face what ever it was trying enter MY bedroom. What can I face today?

More to Loathe is more like it

To FOX:

The comment has been made before that I don't like fat people. That's totally false. I love Santa Claus, The Nutty Professor, and Curly of the Three Stooges. Wait...all those people are fictional? Hmm, then don't take me seriously. I live to make people laugh and everyone deserves to be made fun of at some point in their life. I am a perpetual roast.

Now to the business at hand:

This new show "More to Love," has turned my stomach. I know, I know, the premise is that everyone has a chance for love, but this is exploitation.

You take one heavy set gentleman and supply him with a gaggle of heavy set women in hopes that true love will strike in the allotted weeks for filming.

This is what I noticed last night. These women have self esteem issues. Then, you put them in a contest where they are eliminated from the others for not being pretty or personable enough. Great, so they are no longer compared to skinny people, but now they are told they are not better than people of their own size. Way to go Hollywood. Has anyone killed themselves yet over being rejected on a reality show? Prepare yourself. You might be the first.

In addition Fox, you are perpetuating stereotypes. What does male suitor come home to from the ladies trying to woo him? A platter of nasty fluorescent colored cup cakes. What does one lady ask? "What's the way to a man's heart...through his stomach."

Gross me out. I will never eat another cupcake knowing that heavy hunk passed out that night frosting spackled on his face and crumbs on his stretched out wife beater.

Big people need love too, but do you have to parade them around like cows at the county fair for our enjoyment? I changed to Bizzare Foods, a show where the host eats foods that might be considered disgusting by our culture. Tell me there is irony in that.

Never will you know

I turned the light off in the living room last night before I went to bed at the end of a whirlwind day and noticed a couple of extra clicks.

The extra clicks resulted from the insignificant detail of the light requiring more clicks to turn it off that occurs ever-s0-often.

What is it?

Chance.

The tiny gears and tumblers turning and just happening to skip over the right slot to turn the light off all playing out randomly. So randomly operating in such a contrived device.

Don't we want it?

Don't we want everything to be in our control. Don't we want it all manufactured for a specific reason?

But we don't do we?

We never do.

Instead, life sparks and fires, and cools and goes out. And sometimes it takes 100 clicks to turn the light out and sometimes it comes on all by itself.

Luck?

Chance?

Design by a master?

Click it off tonight and listen for the extra click to see how many it took, but for what?

You Must Surrender

Some of you may not be aware that I have a heady past. At one time I was touring with Phish, had dreadlocks, and engaged in a drum circle or two.

That time of my life is over, but some aspects still remain. I will always love Phish. I experienced feelings with the music that I did not think were possible. And I'm not talking about just popping in The Moma Dance and getting down. I mean pure ecstasy. I don't know how else to explain it, but here it goes:

Some unforeseen force navigated some friends and I into Bacchus Friday night. Let me clarify. We had been there the night before thinking the band was going to be there, but wasn't. So, we sucked it up and tried again. The band was Namaste. They are a mix of blues, Zappa, Umphrey's, and Phish. Their original songs were impressive. Istrumentally, these guys kick ass. And the vocals weren't bad either. The band eventually covered Phish. And not whimpo songs like Heavy Things. Namaste went right for the throat, busting out flawless versions of Harry Hood and Mike's Song. It was somewhere during Hood that it happened. I surrendered. I let go of it all and felt it all. And I was in a bar in Owensboro. I looked over at Daniel and he had as well.

For one; you must surrender. You must be aware of everything and everyone around you, but you must also detach. The all becomes the one and you are every part of it. The music must move you and you within it.

Don't worry, I'm not going on the road anymore. And I'm not nattying my hair back up. I was just able to feel it all again and it was bliss. So let go. Let go. Let go.

Completely unrelated...As soon as Phish releases fall tour dates and Cincinnati is released I'm so raging there.

Taboo News 4 U, like stepping in Dog Doo.

Last night was a shit bomb of an evening.

Some friends and I were pretty psyched about seeing Namaste at Bacchus last night.

I did what any normal civilian would; I read in the free rag that said band would be playing at said bar on said night and decided to go. I actually planned a week ahead.

We noticed that as we drove up there didn't seem to be many cars. Upon entering I noticed the jukebox was playing. Maybe it was set break. Upon viewing the stage I noticed it was empty. There was no band.

What does one do when you're all made up on a work? Settle for beer and leave.

How about a Blue Moon-they were out.

How about a Magic Hat Num.9-they were out.

I drank a flat Shiner Bock.

It took about ten minutes to get that.

So, I'm drinking flat beer at a bar on the wrong night.

We decided to go to Blind Parrot. My first time there. Not bad. No paper towel or soap in the upstairs bathroom. I was freaking.

We stayed late.

I ate a granola bar that I found in the back of Daniel's Volvo...so heady.

I was awakened by a buddy saying, "Dude, my car's gone. What do I do? By the way I threw up taco bell, but it was outside."

His car had been towed and we spent half the morning finding it.

I was notified another person threw up in my yard last night, too. What is it about my yard that makes people want to throw up?

I wanna throw up when I think about News 4 U's inability to publish reliable material that incidentally ruins my night.

I heard there is a much hipper and reliable mag in town...hahaha.

Tara, you're a great neighbor.

From the Private File (my new journal)

Last night the Perseid meteor shower event occurred. The Perseid meteor shower originates from the comet Swift-Tuttle. Many people consider this to be the best annual shower.

Perseid meteors occur throughout the sky but every path can be traced back to the constellation Perseus, particularly Eta Persei, a star near the constellation's northern end.

The constellation is named after Perseus, the hero of myth, son of none other than Zeus(ruler of gods) and Danae(a mortal.) Danae was impregnated by Zeus in one of his multitude of forms. In this case he assumed the form of a shower of golden light.

Perseus is predominantly known for slaying the Gorgon, Medusa, whose gaze could turn any living creature to stone.

After decapitation Perseus took Medusa's head to the ocean's edge and summoned the Kraken, another Gorgon who was holding his love Andromeda in bondage.

I missed the meteor shower last night. Was this entire epic turn of events reoccurring while I was tossing back and forth all night?

I dreamed that I saw the shower last night.

The following is a poem that resulted:

Last night I had a dream

that I was watching the Perseid meteor shower

at my parents' house on the hour.

I dreamt that during its occurrence

I was able to pick up the tiny fragments

that fell to the Earth like a hailstorm.

Tiny pieces from astral giants

held in my little hand

looking like sea shells and gravel

I brushed the particles of ice.

I compared it with another.

My neighbors were shooting of fireworks

from up on the hill.

I shot off bottle rockets in correlation.

They were all I had.

Shout out to other Amber, I didn't forget about you, sweetheart.

Land of 1000 Sighs...and Auras

No, this is not a chapter in The NeverEnding Story saga; this is real.

It is Monday and the work group is quietly chipping away at the tremendous load of paperwork due on the 15th.

From cubicle to cubicle we are loudly sighing like electrical discharges from storm clouds. Some are louder than others...Sharon.

So every couple of minutes you here a breathing stretch and the creak of a chair as the build up to,"uhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

Ever-so-often it's funny because we can detect the amount of pure agony in each whimper.

Just in case you can't visualize let me guide you:

You are typing on the computer and you have been for half an hour. You look at your list and realize you haven't made any progress. You lean back, raise your arms, tilt your head and breeeeeeeeeathe out.

There.

Do you feel better?

Me neither.

That's what the land of 1000 sighs is like today.

Now to auras.

As you know, auras are mystical collections of power that surround a person and can reflect many things ranging from their personality, their energy, and mood.

Friday I was in tune with the mystics. I saw many auras. I saw many intriguing auras and some of romance...and almost amber glow if you will.

Even meeting people for the first time you can experience an aura.

Kelli's entire family had an aura and it was comforting. Her little girl's was shining so brightly I could hardly see anything else.

Kids...they are wonderful because they have no way of trying to contain their aura like us adults do. Pure. And especially when they are being mischievous.

What is your aura today and can you make it last long enough until in the morning?

P.S. Shout out to my girl Ashley.

A Connection?

According to the UCLA Slang Dictionary 6th edition, obama now means cool. So, if I were to show up to work rocking new kicks and a coworker admired them, she might be inclined to say they were "obama."

Oh, why am I talking about this?

Well, for one today is my birthday and just so happens to be Mr. Cool himself, Barack Obama's birthday, as well.

So, by association I happened to have been born cool since I was born on the birth of cool. Beat that. I asked someone special what was better than being born cool and she nonchalantly replied, "being born cooler." Damn. I guess I'll settle for cool today and cooler tomorrow.

Also, there are some other birthdays to be recognized to today. Louis Armstrong was born on this date, enough said. And Percy Bysshe Shelley, one of the major English Romantic poets, critically regarded among the finest lyric poets in the English language was also born today.

Lastly, let me give a shout out to Kelli and Sarah...booyah.

Watching Comfortably

During the drive to work today NPR's Morning Edition really interested me. The subject was the time that humans lived in before artificial lighting and how this way of life resulted in what is referred to as "Two Bout Sleep."
Without artificial light humans endured up to 14 hours of darkness during the winter as opposed to our current zero hours, if an all-nighter is needed.
The researchers studied documents from that time period that suggested the two stages being referred to as first stage-dead sleep and second stage-morning sleep, with a watch or watching period in between.
So, are we waking in the middle of the night due to our ancestors sleep patterns? Or are we just so obsessed with being productive that sleeping is becoming a worrisome activity?
Regardless of your sleep stages, your worrying, and everything you can't do in a day comfort is my focus at the moment.
Comfort.
I experienced a new level of comfort this weekend that I have not experienced before. I laughed deeply and it set me free.
Certainty.
Calm.
Clarity.
All in the confines of a relatively new situation with a furry puppy on my lap no less.
That night I slept wonderfully.
Comfort was at an all time high.
I dreamed vividly.
And the next morning came with the sun slowly to rise and dew thick on the grass. I couldn't help but think I was still dreaming. But I wasn't.
I had just slept a full night in the middle of the comfort vortex. It could have been the full dead sleep or the full morning sleep. I don't know. I just know that since then I have been in the watching stage and what I see is beautiful.