Jacqui (jacqui) wrote,
Jacqui
jacqui

Our New Baby Possums, Money Worries & a Dream About Scott, Britney Spears and Vera Wang

Hi Everybody,

I'm worried that today's bloggeroony is going to sound exactly like yesterday's. Blah, blah, blah, blah my back, blah, blah, blah meds, blah, blah money worries, and blah blah blah, here's my latest weird dream. Then there's the fact that I always, and I swear I do mean always, want to visit every single one of my friend's journals to at least read a couple of your entries and say hello but by the time I've written my entry and posted it my life has snuck up the stairs and smacked me in the face like a wet rag.

BTW do any of you post at other blogs or journals besides LJ? If so what are some of your favorites and do you just double post?

My computer, the little laptop that I've been using to write from in my bed has been acting strangely. I've run my virus software on it and used Pop Up Stopper and Adaware but it's still slow, all of my files are suddenly underlined, the mouse is responding slowly as well, and I keep getting these annoying pop up ads, grrrrr. Did I forget to mention that this is the second time someone jacked Beau's AOL password and used it to mail porn spam to tens of thousands of people via IM's and e-mail? I think I did.


These are not our baby possums, but they look just like them.

I'm afraid to go and check on my newest little family members, the baby possums because I'll be really sad if they didn't make it through the night. I did everything I could for them, got on the net, looked for sites, called for help. They are almost old enough to survive on their own because their eyes are open, they're covered in fur and when they're scared, which is most of the time, they open their little crocodile like mouths, hiss, and flash their fifty tiny teeth at me. Oh they are so cute, I'll take a picture and put it up. I still owe you so many. Just checked on them, they're both fine, nice and warm, hissing and baring their many teeth.

Ana is working out really well, well I don't know about the really. I miss Irma and her kids desperately, but at least Ana isn't the devil, (or one of his disciples named Eunice and her cousin/lover/whatever, Mr. Pit Bull Fighting Gang Boy), and although she's slow to catch on, she means well, and she is ... catching on.

Getting the money together this week to pay Anna and Esther was a nightmare, a big fat scary nightmare. (Funny -- whenever I use the word fat in a negative context I feel as if I should strike that and try to find another adjective. It reminds me of Beau and my favorite teacher of his, Miss Ali, his first grade teacher who used to give out black stars, instead of gold, to the best behaved students to counter all of the negative programming around the color black.) I had to go to my Mom's as usual and beg her to pay me back for various things she had promised to pay for so I could then pay for Esther and Ana. I also took the last 500.00 dollars I had for the month out of my trust account. it's so scary living like this but I haven't yet figured out how I can make enough money doing something I'll want to do. I keep wishing on an acting star and procrastinating about doing anything about it. I just don't see myself getting pictures done until I've hit bottom weight-wise and done something about the extra skin. By the time I take the pictures, get them processed and send them out, I'll look like someone else again, or at least I hope this process will continue for a little while longer, I still have plenty more weight to lose. Anyway I feel caught in this vicious financial cycle, with just enough money and career experience to not have to go get a nine to five minimum wage job that I'll hate, but not enough money to keep from draining my remaining resources and running out in a couple of years, something I don't want to stress my beleaguered back muscles out by writing about any more right now.

Okay so here comes my dream about Scott, Britney Spears and Vera Wang.

I'm trying to visit Scott. I need him, am missing him and want to see him and make love with him. I'm missing our love and comfort and want desperately to be close and feel safe in his arms.

He's moved to a new place. It's a small, beachy apartment kind of place on the second floor of a building. It has two entrances, both from stairs that lead up to it from the outside of the building. Everything is white washed wood -- very Beach Clubish.

Inside it is kind of drab and bachelor-like but considerably more upscale than his current, real-life apartment. (I've put earplugs in my ears because Ana is driving me nuts chattering away, she doesn't understand that I need quiet to write and keeps talking out loud to herself and the cats, with occasional sentences tossed over a shoulder at me, so I don't know what I can and can't filter out.) Scott comes home with some groceries and is mildly surprised to see me here. It is getting later and he is planning a party.

I am in his bedroom sitting on the bed with him talking, when, Britney Spears shows up. She seems sweet, innocent and so young. I like her. The three of us are having fun just sitting on his bed talking. It feels natural and normal that Britney should just stop on by to hang out with us.

I have to go to the bathroom so I do, leaving Scott and Britney in his bedroom. For some dreamy reason I take off my top and am wearing only my bra and a skirt. There is a banging at the door and I realize it's my mother. We all panic and act like teenagers who have been caught doing something naughty -- being sexual when we weren't.

Britney runs to answer the door while I peek from behind the bathroom door. She is wearing only her tiny underwear and is holding her bra, which she has removed, against her chest. My Mother is horrified that the two of us are here undressed in front of Scott and begins to rip into us, shaming us no end. Slowly I begin to realize that Mom is on my side and that maybe it isn't entirely appropriate for Scott and a nearly naked Britney to be in bed together while I am away from the room. Mom wants me to understand that something isn't right with Scott, that I am being naive and that he has been cheating on me with younger cuter gals. I try to dismiss this as people begin to arrive for the party and I find myself being pushed further and further into the background and away from my Scott.

Vera Wang's daughter is here and has brought her Mom along. More and more young girls are joining Scott in the bedroom and Vera is the only person who understands how I am feeling, shows me any compassion. We go outside on the stairs and talk for a while. I really like her. The party continues as more younger people pour into Scott's apartment. It's loud and wild and I feel like a total outsider. Everyone is talking about what a great host Scott is, what a cool apartment he has, and what a nice guy he is.

I decide to go to his bedroom to make one last attempt at connecting with him but he is wrapped up in his blankets, surrounded by young girls, and stoned out of his mind. Everyone looks at me as if I am this killjoy bitch. They clearly want me to leave, Scott couldn't care less whether I'm here or not, dazed in this kind of opiated sexual state, surrounded by hot looking gals who all look eager to fuck him, so dejected and broken hearted I make my way outside with only Vera Wang to comfort me.

It is the next day and I have come over to try to work things out with Scott but he isn't here. I go into his room and sit on his bed. The phone rings and some girl is calling and leaving a message on his machine. I debate about whether I should pick up the phone or not and then, in a primitive need to mark my territory, I pick up the phone and announce to her that, "I am Scott's girlfriend [because he's been acting like he doesn't have one], and he is not here but is there anything I can do to help you?" She clearly doesn't want my help and demands that I put Scott on immediately.

When he comes home he is perturbed that I intercepted this call and thinks I'm ridiculous for having felt insecure about this person. She is an acting friend and needed advice about a monologue or something. Again I feel left out and confused, I'm an actor after all and could easily have helped her, maybe more than Scott could have.

I am also upset because I have just remembered that I was supposed to have attended a Saturday rehearsal for the play that I am in. I forgot that we rehearse on the weekends and I am so hoping I won't get kicked out for this. I am afraid to call the stage manager and try to explain what's happened and that I'll make the next one. I'm also looking for my script and panicking about not being able to get a copy before I have to show up.

People from the party the night before start to trickle in and am disappointed as it seems clear that again I am not going to be able to get any alone time with my Scott. What hurts and confuses me more than anything in the dream is how little he understands me and my needs, how disconnected we are and what a small place I seem to hold in his heart.

Vera Wang, Britney and some of her young girlfriends show up. We are sitting around Scott's kitchen table while Scott is in the living room talking to some of his other friends about his stereo or television. The only person in the dream who ever seems to get me or understand any of what I am feeling is Vera Wang. Interesting that I should pick the world's preeminent wedding dress designer to champion my desire to feel closer to Scott. Then there's the fact that she's of Asian decent and I love and trust all things Asian so I guess it's a natural that she would be the nurturing Mother figure while my own Mother was her usual panicky, overly concerned about propriety, self.

At some point I break away from the girly kitchen table chatting and grab Scott away from his friends in the living room. I am trying to tell him that I have meant something to him, that I held an important place in his life for a while, by pointing out my relationship with the various things in his home. I show him all of the things I gave him, the TV, the VCR, the sofa, the bookcases, the cushion on his Papasan chair. I show him areas of his home that I have worked on, the little bar where I dusted everything and washed all of his cocktail glasses, but there is so much that has changed and is new here that I am running out of things to connect myself to and in desperation I hit upon his collection of National Geographic magazines, (Scott doesn't have NG magazines, nor does he have cocktail glasses, but he does have a bar and I did clean and dust it, but I doubt he'd remember this, it being so long since I've been to his place), and try to get him to remember that I once dusted and cleaned all of them and put them in chronological order.

None of this seems to make any kind of impression on him or moves him to feel closer to me. It's as if time has passed where I must have disappeared from his life while all of these new friendships have grown up like vines on Sleeping Beauty's castle and he has almost forgotten me and certainly doesn't need me any more. I love him so much and am so sad that things have changed so drastically, that I have been reduced in stature and we are more like distant friends, not like the close partners we once were.

I wander down a dark narrow hallway and find this amazing, modern bathroom, very Eurostyle with lots of tile and chrome and curvilinear features. The kind of bathroom you'd see in a very expensive design magazine. It seems out of place here and is located at the end of the narrow awkward hallway. Just behind it I can see an opening I might be able to squeeze through if I wanted to explore the apartment next door to Scott's, but I don't.

I am hurt that he hasn't even bothered to give me a tour, that I am left that much out of the loop of his living, while all of his new friends seem to interest him more than I do and occupy more of an important place in his life.


When I called Scott and told him about my dream he pshawed me with a, "I'm the one who calls you every day when most of the time you act like I'm bothering you." Maybe I'd better rush right out and get that Dr. Laura book, The Proper care and Feeding of Husbands, that I've been meaning to buy.

Say, who let all of these darned cats in here? Triple B is determined to sit right on the keyboard, not on my lap, not cuddled up against my side, but right on top of the keys, sigh. I fed the little snarling possum rascals some cat food, chopped up rose petals and apples, and cleaned their little bottoms with a warm rag, then I tucked them into a makeshift pouch with an instant heating pack on top. Wish us luck, if I take them to the shelter or one of our local vets they'll kill them. I think I may have to resort to calling, The Amazing Randy, the super nutso bible thumping wild animal rescuer. When I say nuts, I mean this guy is certifiably, one step away from being Gary Busey nuts, that's why I hesitate to call him. Plus, nothing against God -- love the guy/gal -- but I'd have to spend an hour listening to Randy testify and well, that jest aint fun, you know what I mean? Back spasms, weeeeeee...

you are darkviolet
#9400D3

Your dominant hues are blue and magenta. You're the one who goes to all the parties but doesn't quite fit in at every one... you know what you want, but are afraid of what the world might think of it. You're a little different and that's okay with them, and if you're smart it's okay with you too.

Your saturation level is very high - you are all about getting things done. The world may think you work too hard but you have a lot to show for it, and it keeps you going. You shouldn't be afraid to lead people, because if you're doing it, it'll be done right.

Your outlook on life is brighter than most people's. You like the idea of influencing things for the better and find hope in situations where others might give up. You're not exactly a bouncy sunshine but things in your world generally look up.
the spacefem.com html color quiz
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