apparition. 

The sonofabitch was in my dream last night. Actually, it centered on him. He came to stay for Christmas. It was a huge house, filled with people. We slept in a king-size bed with two other people. 

We ended up having this huge discussion in a closet. He was saying I was stable; always there for him when he needed. This convo was so painful because all of his mannerisms were present. He pushed me against one of the walls and towered over me. But even with the sexual tension, and feelings running high, the only vibe I got was friendly. 

Here’s where it got amusing: we left the closet and went to the kitchen, where people had eaten whatever breakfast they wanted. He turns to me and gives me his food order! I laughed at him. He seriously thought I was going to make him breakfast. Lol. He wanted two eggs up easy, ham, and whole grain toast. I went over to the cupboard, grabbed a box of cereal, pushed it into his chest, and walked away. 

So later on, we are talking in the bedroom. He remembers something suddenly. He goes to his bag and pulls out two paintings that he made and hands them to me. They are my Christmas gift. I was so touched that he spent the time to create something for me. 

He heads out to go skiing for the day. I notice a post-it note in the corner of one of them. As I lift it, I’m reading the words, “I love you so much”. My heart skips and flutters. I continue peeling the post-it and realize the note begins, “Dear Tiff,”. 

Sigh. How telling. What a perfect example of the pig I know him to be. The whole thing, really. 

The weird thing is, I almost never dream of the people deep inside my heart. So now I’m left wondering, why? Was this my brain’s way of trying to tell my logical mind to give up the ghost? Was he just on my mind before I fell asleep? I don’t have any answers. I woke up disturbed and disappointed. 

Qué sera, sera.

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What a week…


Car accidents and snow and subzero temps and no booze and no money and lots of tv and playing guitar and drawing and working out and

crawling into my bed cocoon. 

I sure hope that it births me fully an adult butterfly come springtime. 

Winter is a time of metamorphosis. Everything seems to be in stasis, but it is a time of great change. 

Normally my brain would be booze-soaked by this time on Friday. But it is not. So therefore, it spins. Stuck on loop. 

Man. This was kind of a depressing post. 

Fluffy kitties. There. 

Mine has taken to giving me a murderous look whenever I pick her up. That cat would kill me if she only had thumbs. 

Slainté

starting something new.

So, I decided that part of what made 2016 such an awful year was the pervasive stench of social media. So, I gave it up for the new year. 

No more posts on Facebook or wasting time scrolling through my news feed for funny tidbits, cat videos, or political nonsense. 

This isn’t without its downsides though. People who can only get ahold of me through messenger will no longer be able to get ahold of me. I won’t be able to post fun things I am doing. I won’t know what’s going on in the lives of Facebook friends unless they are close friends and get ahold of me. 

But I guess that’s the point. Only connecting with what/who is real. I find it an interesting social experiment. 

I am also giving up alcohol for three months, as a detox/cleanse. I won’t be drinking until I go to Ireland in the beginning of April. 

I don’t anticipate too many problems from this. I’m curious as to the physical and physiological changes my body will go through. 

I will continue to update this blog, because no one reads this anyway. 😆

Slainté