Inspiration

Not.
Haven't written in a while due to lack of umph. Writing has been slack lately. I have been inspired to paint my kitchen though.
Yes, it is blue, white, green, and orange and striped with gold stars. I'm not artsy at all, no.
It all began with a desire to put up some shelves.  But the only place to put them was on the wall that wasn't painted yet (procrastination). I knew if I put shelves on the unpainted wall, I'd never actually paint the wall for lack of desire to take the shelves back down.  
So I went a little nuts. The shelves STILL aren't up. I'm painting gold stars at the top. Probably going to paint them on the door too. I love stars. A poorly kept secret is that I have a star tattoo. Its relatively new.
I'm probably just going to paint the drop down ceiling some groovy color. I was going to get faux tin tile but its pricey. Even the cheap kind that I would paint myself is out of my budget.
Anyway, even if the writing isn't too inspired, at least the house is shaping up again.
That's all.

It Begins Again...

Starting this thing up again. It's "kind of a journal, but not really" in that I reserve the right to make up a bunch of bullshit, and write it here. I know I'll be sharing some of my adventures as I have them. An adventure can consist of going camping, going out on my bike, going kayaking, or even just to the grocery. But I don't want to call it a straight up journal. I tried to have "A Journal" in the past, and I was quite into it. But I eventually just started to feel like a narcissistic jerk, which is quite the opposite of who I am.

As I write, there's a thunderstorm coming. No wonder Peanut is huddled under the bed. There's a big cardboard box out on the patio that's going to be sodden, and I don't actually care. Since my painting studio/laundry room is right off the patio, I usually work out there with the door open, because it's kind of claustrophobic with the door closed. So I hope the rain doesn't last too terribly long. Not that I'm going to be able to do any painting/laundry tonight. Grades are due tomorrow, and I might be pulling an all-nighter. My job is trying to kill me.

An all-nighter isn't too big of a deal. I have trouble sleeping anyway. It's usually because my brain won't shut up. I can't really describe the feeling I get sometimes when I try to sleep. It's like I'm running a video on fast forward, and then there's the feeling that I could sleep, if only I could sort out these thoughts. But they just won't sort. I feel like I am trying to sort basketballs into shoeboxes. Nobody I've tried to explain this to really understands, and I have an aversion to whining, even when I'm entitled to do so. Maybe that's what blogs are for.

People are always full of advice about what an insomniac should do. Turn off the computer and lay there. Read til you pass out. Count sheep. Wear a blindfold. None of these really work. I do have pharmaceutical aids, but I don't want to use them too often because of the dependency issue, the weird things I tend to text to people, and the hallucinations. Wait, did I say that out loud? HA! No, I haven't had hallucinations, at least not visual ones. A few times I have heard things. Clear as a bell, I don't remember most of them. I wrote down two of them. One, where I heard a child's voice saying "Ow! Hot!" Another time, I know it was a man's voice, and something told me he was a warrior, but I don't remember what he said. It could be the pills, or it could be this house. Or I could be insane.

The house? Yes, the house, and no, I am not saying It's Alive. But I do live in a house that is over 100 years old. When it was built, there was only one other house here, and it was "out in the country". Now it's the middle of town. I am told that it's haunted, but my strange phenomena experiences here have been limited. Back when I first bought this place, I did some research on who had owned it before me. I found that there was a man named Perry that died here in the 20s. The cause of death is listed as "carcinoma of the lip". Ouch (Don't smoke, kids. I'll kill ya one way or another). When I first moved in, I kept thinking I heard someone walking around on the porch, but there was never anyone there. If there is a ghost in my house, and anything weird that happens I usually blame "Mr. Perry", he likes to mess with guests more than he does me. Guests have been tapped on the shoulder and neck, and brushed past, among other things.

Today, I was looking at pictures on my phone while the kids were waiting for the buses. They wanted to see a picture of my dog. I had been telling them "ghost stories" about the house to pass the time, so I let them see those pictures too. One little girl took one look and said "Yep, it's ghostes in your house. I can tell"

So, it's ghostes in my house. It's official.

Looks like the storm is gone. Better start looking at grading these little beasties...