I thought those commercials were kind of silly, aimed at sissies and such. I mean really, as if a mouthwash could ever be intimidating? Ha! Well I was wrong. The stuff is remarkably intense. Never fear though, I will continue to scoff at commercials. Like fried chicken is good for you? And now their trying to convince me it’s kitchen fresh? Liars!

My brain has been working overtime these days. It just won’t shut up. Normally I don’t think this would bother me, but it is interfering with my sleep. Slumber does not find me nearly quickly enough anymore. Sleeping has never been particularly difficult for me. I go to bed, and within 15 minutes my little switch goes into the ‘off’ position. Even as a baby I slept easily and long. My mother has told me stories about how she used to run in and check on me to make sure I was still alive and well. Apparently neither of my older siblings slept the sleep of the dead that I was capable of. At least, that’s the way things once were. Now when I put my head on my pillow at night, my thoughts fracture into a few dozen pieces all clamoring for my undivided attention. Eventually one of the them always finds it’s way the front. It’s like blinking lights that spell out NOTICE ME. I then spend anywhere from an hour to three focusing on that thought and following it to it’s eventual conclusion. Sometimes it’s just rumination of the day’s events … but occasionaly it’s honestly disturbing. Like last night; when I finally came to terms that a dream of my future that started somewhere in high school was completely and thoroughly dead.

Do you know what it’s like to have a dream die? It hurts. You mourn it. Your breath goes shallow and you bite back the tears that burn behind your eyes. It’s a thousand times more painful than I ever would have thought it could be.

It wasn’t until last night though, that I think I ever really understood. Previously, I had said it was over but I don’t think I ever really believed it. Deep down in the leaky basement of my mind I thought maybe there was a way I could breathe life into it again. I thought I could have a little personal and private resurrection. My very own Lazarus.

Sadly, no miracle of biblical proportions will bring this back to me. Not this time.

Just so you know that I am not wallowing in depression after this discovery, that maybe there is a silver lining for every cloud, all this unwanted final understanding of what it is to lose something has not been for naught. I now have the hope of a new dream. A new life path. I just have to find it in the jumble of things going on in all this grey matter. And who knows. I may just be able to pull it off.

When George Lucas speaks I have to restrain an urge to punch him in the nose. I would offer to punch him in the chin, but someday he’ll shave that little beard of his off and all the world will discover he has no chin … his face just kind of becomes his neck. It’s probably a good that it is highly unlikely I’ll ever be anywhere near the man.

And then you find out they prefer paper plates to the real thing. Tragic.

It seems I’ve spoiled my pet fish. I bought him new food which he refuses to eat. At this rate, I guess we may just find out how long a betta can live without eating.