VooDoo Child

You know you're day is getting off to a good start when at 8:30am you have completed the day's crossword puzzle, cryptoquote, and jumble in the newspaper. Life is good.

Spiders from Mars

Ever spend a night alone? Well I'm sure most of you have. But for me, it's rather rare. There's usually always someone else home, or I am usually always with someone else. So to be home all alone with no one around is a very different feeling when you're used to being around some sort of human form.

Last night I spent the night alone. Mom was gone, Dad was gone, Ian was gone, and Christopher was gone. I also tried to not answer the phone when it rang. However a good friend that I haven't talked to in a while called so I had to pick it up. Plus I chatted minimally on MSN for a moment. But that was it for human contact.

It's really is a fun time being alone. I listened to music as loud as I wanted, played guitar and sang along as hideously as I wanted, and danced as retarded as I wanted to dance in the kitchen while brewing a hot pot of cream of wheat. Then once in a while I would hear a noise and kinda freak myself out a little thinking that someone was in the house. But it was just normal house noises and clickings. But half the fun of being home alone is freaking yourself out.

I soon felt tired after my late night breakfast and decided to curl up in my bed and chill. The last thing I remember is dozing off to "Ziggy Stardust." I don't remember spending a wild Saturday night at home especially by myself, but I must say, I thouroughly enjoyed myself and suggest that if you have the chance, use it. You get to think about whatever you want to think about with no interuptions of other people's ideas. Fun times.

To end, I would like you to respond to this question: If you had to walk a mile into a forest with camping gear and camp all by yourself for one night, would you do it? Or would you be to scared? Think about it.

London's Brilliant Parade

"Reading Week" has officially begun as of 11:20am for me today. Even though it's only a week off of class where I have just as much work to do anyways, I got that super gleeful feeling while walking to my car after class today. I also got a little sentimental when I was reminded that this is also my last reading week. It would have been nice if I was able to make it a more exciting one like planning an outrageous journey to New Orleans or Daytona Beach where they film those "Girls Gone Wild" videos. Ah well, I've never done anything before for my reading weeks, so why start now? Who knows, maybe something spontaneous and unplanned will happen. Only tim will tell. And by tim, I of course mean time. Unless Tim knows, then by all means, fill me in.

So right now, as I'm thinking of things to type about, I remember noticing the wide collection of books that sit on the bookshelf next to me. It's quite a varied collection of sorts and a little comical as Shan had pointed out one night. Here are a few lined up next to each other and what not better to get the party started other than: "The Holy Bible", "Simply Accounting", "My Island, My People", Stephen King's "IT", "Eva Peron: A Biography", "Black Islanders", "Cure Your Cravings", and oh yes once again, "The Holy Bible." The utter fact that the Dunsford's own, not one, but TWO Holy Bible's is beyond me. Must have been one of those things Mom and Dad would steal from hotel rooms just to say they stole something. Yeah I bet that's it.

So what else is happening you ask? Well I'm almost done being sick...again. When my immune system was down, the cold virus thought it would be hilarious to invade my body. Yeah very funny. It's just too bad my B and T lymphocytes are kicking your icosahedral viral capsid ass mother fucker! Don't even try messin' with my antibodies again. However there is one good thing about being sick, and that is the CRAZY dreams that illness and their medications bring. And now I will explain last night's tale:

What made this dream great to begin with is that I knew I was dreaming, but also knew I had to get up soon, but the dream was just so fantastic that my body waited for it to be over before rising, but once it was over, BAM! I was awake. i can't explain every little detail, for many of them have disappeared as dreams so often do the longer you wait to tell them. But it started off with me and 2 friends (friends which I could not identify but I felt were good friends in the dream) and we were in London and had just arrived on a grey double decker bus driven by a large brutish women who was concerned for me. Why was she concerned? Because she knew one of my reasons for being in London was to find a suitcase full of marijuana. So she dropped us off at our other good friend's place who happened to own a really high class costume shop. Here, we discussed the goals of our excursion. Other than purchasing a suitcase full of weed, we were to hunt down Elvis Costello, Rod Stewart and another famous male rockstar (of whom I cannot remember, but when I hear his name it is going to come right back to me). We had to find someway of letting them know to meet us at the costume shop on a certain day. I remember there being a time limit, almost like a scavenger hunt or something. The rest is mostly a blur of us rushing around London looking for ways to find our celebrity friends. I remember us giving a note to Elvis and the mystery rockstar to meet us at the shop, and then time was running out and we had yet to find Rod so I was rushing and on this double decker bus with big brute woman and all the sudden Michael Caine jumps on the bus and is like "RIDE RIDE! Rod's on his way!" All in his British accent and everything. So then we arrive at the costume shop and I run in and I'm so excited to see my celebrity friends, but first brute woman asks, "Hey Ash, what about the dope?" And there was the suitcase of pot ready for use. I knew she'd pull through for me. So I run in and the store is crowded with people trying on costumes, which makes this harder for me because I'm trying to find Elvis and Rod. I was taking off people's masks and grabbing their faces yelling, "Elvis! Rod! Where are you!?" Finally I get to the back room, getting a little disappointed, and noticing a man standing by the wall in a blue velvet Rick Flair robe from the old wrestling days, I slighty mutter, "Rod? Rod Stewart?" He turns around and I run over and give him a huge hug. Then my dream freeze frames and I wake up.

It's crazy the crap you think of when you're asleep. Like never in a bajillion years would I ever think of a story like that while awake. It was a good night indeed. It's a shame I didn't sleep long enough to see Me, Elvis, Rod, Mystery Rockstar, and Brute Woman Busdriver roll up and smoke a big fat fatty while dressed in costumes on a double decker bus. Maybe tonight. Maybe tonight.