Faux pas, blogging

I just did something that, were it said to me, I would have been annoyed. It also crosses into the boundary zone of whether it is right to say or not. So, I was in the Circle K on campus, purchasing some coffee, and the girl ringing me up “looked” pregnant. I know, of course, that you never just ask “when are you due?” for fear that she may have just added a few pounds. But from the looks of her small, thin frame, I kind of knew that was not the case. However, I was certain of her impending child by the way she touched her belly. Pregnant women do this sort of passing touch that reaffirms that yes, they are still pregnant and yes, their belly is that large. So I asked. “When are you due?” And she says 3 weeks. Now, I know some women don’t gain a lot of weight but I swear to you she looked only about 5 or 6 months. I was relieved to know that I was wrong in my assertion, though. She then whined about how she’s so ready to be done with it. Yeah, I know how that is. At least she doesn’t have the requisite 30 pounds to lose.

And speaking of women, I’ve been thinking a lot about BlogHer lately, what with it happening tomorrow and all. I’m not a jealous person or even an envious person. I do not typically lust after things (unless we want to consider George Clooney a thing and then in that case…). But I really do have this secret desire to become one of these bloggers who makes it. You know, who becomes popular enough to be included in the circle. Sure, anyone can go to Blogher; it’s just a conference. But I don’t think I’d have the guts to do it unless I had broken into that realm of popularity and/or had become friends enough with those people to have them begging me to go. Or at least urging me to. Secretly (and I keep saying that, as if it’s not obviously un-secret right now) I want to be a part of that special woman thing that all my favorite bloggers have. I just don’t know what it takes. I know: keep writing, comment on blogs, get yourself out there. I worry that I’ll have to go to independent hosting eventually. It may be the only way. That or be pushy and asked to be touted in other peoples’ blogs. And then, is that even the right way to earn so-called fame? Probably not.

But I look forward to all the tweets from Blogher. I hear it’s one hell of a good time, if you like to par-tay. And I think you do. :)

Haunted by dreams

Sometimes I have such vivid and startling dreams that they sort of coat my day; I feel them somewhere bumping around in my subconscious, showing themselves on the projector in my head. So I’m going to try to recount the one I had last night, that woke me around 3:25.

I was in a salon with my mother, aunt, and Ash. They had paid for me to get the works: hair cut and style, mani/pedi, and a massage. The woman who was doing my hair was a loud, assertive woman, just the kind I like in these types of jobs because she tells you where she’s going with your style, asking questions along the way, and not letting uncomfortable complete silence creep into the service. So, my hair is being reworked and my three family members are watching and suddenly, we decide to leave and I took my old car (from high school) and went… somewhere, deciding to come back in an hour for my massage. The dream skips to a time when I realize I have to be back for my massage but I don’t take my car, I run. And I run. I am running through buildings and fields and whatever is in my way, all the while feeling the press of time, must hurry. I come upon a car dealership that is closing but I burst through the doors, telling them as I run that I am late.

The apparent owner of said car dealership – middle-aged yet well-aged man – threatens me in a playful tone. I am confused. I look over my shoulder to see him coming out the other doors and chasing me. In front, across a field, I can see the salon. Behind, the man is still in pursuit. The dream speeds up in a blur and I am in the middle of this field in a clawfoot tub, with shower curtain pulled. I know the man is closing in on me and I am scared. But then, there is someone in the tub with me. It is this man’s son, who was supposedly the one chasing me all along. He was tall, looked like he might be named Paolo or somthing; dark shoulder length hair, olive skin, beautifully sculpted body. not too muscly but perfect. He tells me that from the moment he laid eyes on me (5 minutes ago?) that he must have me. As dreams go, I had a feeling like Ash was somewhere around and that the situation I was in was bad.

Paolo (let’s say) embraces me and I push him away, “No, I am getting married.” This is where my dream and actual memories clash because I tell him that I cannot because I am already married yet getting married. (??) And this boy’s father is actually the one running the catering service for our wedding and this boy says, “No wonder we’re serving steak and potatoes at tomorrow’s event.” Like that has anything to do with it. Anyway, I’m still in this tub, with Paolo’s beautifully tanned arms wrapped tightly around me – the guilt was creeping in, settling in my stomach. Suddenly, Ash pulled back the shower curtain and the look on his face was one I hope to never see.

The picture swirls again and Ash’s hands are around my neck, he’s seething, saying “Kill, kill…”

And then Ash startled awake, waking me in turn, and my heart was racing. Dreams are all too real sometimes.