At The Mercy of My Fingers

I know you are going to say this is just too much! We have better things to do than reading a blogger’s jabbering every other night! But I can’t help it, my fingers just won’t rest, they refuse to stay away from the keyboard. I have tried, I swear I did. I must have clicked on those stupid solitaire cards over twelve thousand times tonight, and yet my fingers don’t seem to have had their satiety. My pink little mouse that looks as if it is a hand-me-down from an 8 year old girly girl has been begging me to stop restlessly clicking on it for over 2 hours, and yet my fingers refuse to keep away from my broken laptop.

Something in me has woken up from its deep, long slumber this week. Something in me has shaken me up, and like a somnambulist, I found myself picking up on my reading where I had left off. The pleasure of those books must have ticked off the ink swelling in the tips of my fingers.

Something in me has realized that fantasies are just what they are, and reality must set in sometime. My feelings about this statement are ambivalent. I am not sure how much I prefer living my reality as opposed to dreaming my fancy.

I am trying to take serious steps towards fulfilling the promise I had made to myself, the one in which I swore to live more, to do more, to be more; but as the saying goes, one hand cannot clap on its own, and without a serious entourage and excellent company round the clock, I am afraid my hands not only won’t clap, they are also tied, tied to a bittersweet reality that keeps me going in vicious circles of fabulous far away friends, and omnipresent insignificant everyday companions who make me feel like a cat lady.

Tonight I can’t help but imagining myself some 30 years from now still sitting in this chair, sipping from this same hideous cup of coffee, only by then I would be ordering decaf instead; I foresee uncontrollably shaky hands in my future and a pile of heart medicine. I see glasses so thick they seriously could pass as the bottoms of coca cola bottles. I see a big house filled to its brim with books read once and only once, with rusty yellowish notebooks scattered all over the place, and with little, almost invisible insects crawling and making tiny nests inside the walls of an imagination that never knew where its door knob was.

I see neighborhood kids practicing their prank skills on me. I see myself tutoring students I wish I could spank to make a living.

I see nephews and nieces coming to check on me every once in a while. I hear them complaining about the stench of the house. I see myself cracking the windows once they have left. I see myself trying to look presentable and driving my 2005 Polo – 30 years from now – to Sassine Square. I see young waitresses puffing and rolling their eyes at my sight.

I sit here seriously wishing I knew how to change this inevitable prospect, and whilst my imagination aids me, my reality refuses to cope. Somehow I wish the world would rearrange itself to suit my lazy ass. And to end this with a somewhat less pessimistic thought, just wait and watch it do it!

The Summer of Dom Perignon

Or should I call it the summer of Moet Et Chandon? It is hard to tell which brand I indulged myself with more this summer. And I know you must be wondering why I am still talking about summer when it is almost Christmas. The answer is both simple and complicated. Simple because I started writing this at the end of the summer – yes, I know I only wrote two sentences then, and complicated because I was writing it when I thought it was the end of an era – and yes, it now is.

It is the end of the free champagne era for me, for now at least. Champagne was in fact the highlight of my 2012. I attended so many openings, met so many people, interviewed some, had a crush on others, and hated the rest. The job was worthless money wise, experience wise even, but it offered so many perks on the social front.

I am not sure anymore what I wanted to say when I started writing this, but I am pretty certain I wanted to vent on something or the other. I am an innate nagger, as you must have already noticed by now. I can’t really find it in me to pester tonight though, shocking I know!

Well anyway, long story short, I have started a new job, a more challenging one on all levels so far. It is time to get serious, time to get busy and time to try and leave behind my semi bohemian life. Somehow it feels good to have so much to do. It is startling how much I didn’t know and how big is the stack of things I have never experienced before. Bye bye champagne and aloha social misery. So long two hours work days and 4 days off a week, and hello 24/7 marathon. That makes it sound a bit frustrating, but what isn’t? I have always been an extremist in any case, why change now?

I am excited. I am anxious. I am worried. I am already tired. But I want to make a plan. I want to stick to it too for once. I am even considering trying out a diet again. Useless I know; hopeless maybe. But I have to confess it has crossed my mind. I want to benefit from the situation, turn it around to fit me in all ways, as much as I can. I want to buy a car. I want to travel. I want to be independent. I want to live.

I want to live. I do. I may not have much time for it with the crazy schedule, but I promise to try. I hereby promise that should the plan work, I am going to live. I am going to have champagne with my friends for a change. I want to enjoy it. I want to pop it and smear it all over the place. I want to get into pillow fights with my girls. I want to leave the crust behind and feel fresh and energetic. Most of all, I want to get away from the coffee shop, to step away from my routine, to shake myself to do more, to feel more,  to be more.

It felt like a cinematic moment when I left the old office for the last time. I felt pretty wearing that smile around and offering it to strangers. The wind blowing through my hair and my scarf gave me a shiver, not one of cold though, but one of pride. Been a while since I felt happy, or proud, let alone both together.

As always, I shall treasure the friends I made along the way and cherish the memories, the experience and the mistakes. All of it will just fill me with more of something I already hold plenty of: nostalgia. Days that will never repeat themselves no matter how hard we try, moments that we might never be able to grasp again no matter how badly we want to, and people who leave such a mark in us that it becomes impossible not to attempt to find it in the rest of the human race. So here is to a summer that despite its trouble will remain, like all the ones that preceded it, and all the ones that will hopefully follow it, a memorable one. Rain is washing it out tonight, trying to steal its stickiness from my mind, and the winter lover in me feels like leaving my chair and walking under it, feels like getting wet, like embracing the most beautiful season of all, the most powerful of all, the most empowering of all. May those heavenly clouds accompany me and protect me in my new endeavor; may they guide my path towards the new era, the latest opportunity and the divine blessing.

A Slave of Complaint

It has been an ultra redefining week on so many levels. Well I haven’t exactly discovered anything I wasn’t previously aware of, but everything that had been happening with me or around me has reconfirmed some old theories and feelings.

I am a slave of my routine. Anything that interferes with my daily habits one way or another automatically tends to go on a blacklist that ranges between dislike, discomfort and disassociation altogether.

For those of you who don’t know me in person, here is a concise summary: I am your basic heavy smoker/insomniac with no car. That being said, it is quite understandable how a 24/7 coffee shop near home with an indoor smoking section can work perfectly well for me.

I have been almost living in the same spot for the past 10 years or so. The coffee shop itself changed, the people changed, the cab drivers even changed, but I am still the same. I come here religiously, every night, for the same experience, the same enjoyments, with the odd twist here and there of course.

So could somebody please tell me why am I having to undergo a relatively massive change in the space of less than a week? It simply isn’t conceivable in my mind; having to go from devotedly smoking indoors 24/7 to shamefully smoking outdoors 21/7 is just NOT fair!!!! Not to mention that I have lost the place as a depot as well! I know an explanation is due now and it goes – or used to go to be more precise – like this: The fact that I have no car and that I feel lost without my huge laptop makes me carry it with me wherever I go, and since on some rare occasions I actually have plans elsewhere, but must – and I mean MUST! – come to the coffee shop before AND after the night out, I would usually keep the laptop with the staff for the duration of my plans, and then come back, retrieve it, use it and go home with it. Now what do you suggest I do with my humongous laptop when I need to go out?? And how am I to use it before leaving and dispose of it then? And why oh why don’t I get the chance to use after all my boring plans anymore??

Rant, rant, ranting I do best! I know. But in this case, I have earned the right to do it, haven’t I? I mean come on, after all those years, you chose this week of all weeks to start closing at 3:00 a.m.? What does it even denote to close for 3 meager hours when you need an hour to close down and another to open up? Isn’t it enough that I now have to sweat in the heat and shiver in the cold just because I have been dubbed as an uncivilized smoker? I ask you, isn’t that a sufficiently undeserved and uncalled for punishment?

On another note, I may have become slightly superstitious this week as well. It all started when I caught the bouquet my friend threw on her first wedding anniversary. Does catching the bouquet really mean I am going to meet someone and be the next to walk the isle? And what exactly could it mean that I caught it one year too late?

On yet another note, there has been a lot of dreaming going on. Between the dreams of my relatives, those of my friends and my own, I have been stealing cars, secretly buying cars, and attending some very fishy gatherings. I have also been misplacing my clothes and walking on red sand.

Now link the dreams to the rotting flowers, deprive me of smoking altogether, send me to bed at midnight, and drive me off tomorrow to the nut house in a stolen green Renault. How about that?

My Phone Is NOT Smart!!!

For most people, it comes as a shock, no, as THE shock. Some go as far as considering me old fashioned. A local standup comedian labeled everyone who still uses a Nokia – myself included - as “old people”.

May I please know why is it wrong to hold a user friendly phone that happens to fulfill a phone’s basic duties? Why is needing a phone only for what a phone is meant for looked down upon?

Have What’s App and BBM become a necessity now? It is much more fun to hook up with your friends over a cup of coffee than to break your thumbs chatting with them over a microscopic phone board, or is it not? Do make me stand corrected if you can!

And friendships aside, why would anyone in their right mind consciously make the choice to become reachable via email off of working hours?? People I am not sure I understand you! Sure you may have a few reasonable arguments, but not nearly enough to convince me!

My phone is not smart!!!! You make me feel almost ashamed to say it!!! And now I feel as if you would assign it for me to write 40 times on my FB wall as a punishment, unbelievable…

But then again, loneliness and boredom have been doing a great job eating me up lately, so maybe it is about time I joined the masses, about time I tried some new technologies, about time I tried virtually blending in, about time to and to and to…

Oh you think the magic has turned on the magician?? Well guess what, even if I could be persuaded – which I am not admitting to still, I can’t afford smart phones! Hell recently I haven’t been able to afford smart thoughts, and those are practically free!

God help me, I may actually truly be old, I more often than not feel as if I belong to a totally different era somehow, and not a cool one even! Anyway, back to subject, or maybe not, I have probably ranted enough for one day. I would have enjoyed making a funny sketch about your alarmed face expressions once you have seen my phone though, could have been hilarious! :)

I miss it

Living that is. I miss living. I could end the blog right here, but I will elaborate since I have nothing else to do. 

I am alive, true. And although I never thought I would miss drinking or partying and the like, I actually do.

I can't stand sitting in this grim coffee shop anymore.

I miss having a job, having money, shopping, among other things of course.

It seems to me as if I am the only 25 year old who spends her Friday nights online, only virtually living. 

What I would give for a live game of scrabble instead of the thousands I play online. 

What joy I would feel if I liked something and were able to just go in and buy it.

I know most people think I am a spoiled girl who allows herself all kinds of privileges and who never manages to save a dime. And what if I am? It is just who I am.

It is true that being that kind of girl leaves me clueless when I find myself without money, but I am impressing myself by coping with it.

I am not exactly happy with my current situation, but not breaking down is an achievement in itself for someone like me.

I forgot why I wanted to elaborate on this. I just want to say that I miss having plans for the weekend or something. Maybe soon. Who knows.

Stung By A Bee

Last night my mom tricked me into sleeping at my grandmother's place in a village I really despise. We were supposed to come back in the evening, but it turned out she had other plans and I had no choice but to stay put.
It wasn't so bad. I had fun playing cards and all but still, I felt tricked. I wasn't there by my own free will.
After everyone went to sleep, I set my laptop on the balcony and sat there for a while. The power got cut and I was out of battery. While I was shutting my laptop down, to top it all, a bee stung me in my neck.
I am more pessimistic than ever these days. I am broke. I am unemployed with no prospects for a job. I am single. I am lonely. I am surrounded by all kinds of people but I am too impatient for people. I am not sure how that may be but I am.
The bee sting gave me the feeling of being bitten by a vampire, especially since the bee chose my neck to dump its poison.
I am not sure if it is the effect of loneliness, but I am having lots of illusions lately. Everything has a weird connotation to it. Maybe it is the boredom and not the loneliness after all.
Spilling white chawarma sauce all over my favorite top had a connotation as well, although I am not sharing this one.
I have nothing to say really. I thought the bee would cover a larger subject but it doesn't.

Because I Have Nothing Better To Do

I considered reading, but I am not in the mood. Instead, I decided to lose my virtual poker chips while listening to depressing songs. 

I am sure you have heard this advice before, but there is no harm in repeating it: Don't listen to depressing songs when you are already depressed. 

I am sure that like myself, you never listen to your own advices. 

Question: Are anxiety and impatience caused by depression, or is depression generated by anxiety and impatience?

Comes a moment when the only people you can stand are the exact same bunch who can't tolerate you at this very moment.

No need to elaborate on the ones you can't currently stand and who, for some reason, won't leave you the hell alone at least till it goes away. What would it be you may ask. I can call it depression but I am not sure if it is the correct term for it.

Whatever it is that I am going through right now, there are some adjectives that can describe it, but no scientific term that I know of that can give it justice by name. It is sad, pathetic and peculiarly mind numbing.

Did I bring this upon myself, or was it merely universal justice?

I am suffocating by the sight of the same people, over and over and over again.

Self esteem: Is it its lack or its abundance that is fueling this feeling?

I am in deep shit, shit caused by arrogance, stupidity and lack of analysis. I just throw myself into impossible situations. I am aware it is my choice. I still blame it on others. 

And where the hell is my stop button?? Just STOP!!

Lack of control. Lack of will. 

French rock tunes. I hope they help me out of this mood.

The Trap

I haven't made an entry in here in a week or so. The reason for this is that I wanted to wait until I found something cheerful to talk about, because my last article was so melancholic. But alas, the week has passed, and nothing good ever came out of it.

I so desperately wanted to retrieve the mood I was in when I wrote the Musical. But it is just not happening. I wake up every morning with the hope of hearing some good news, any good news, but none reaches my ears.

I am even asking if the plumber came and fixed the water problem, because if he did, that would be considered good news, although I don't live where the water is running and I never will.

Work sucks. I am not even officially working actually. I am taking petty jobs that I despise just for the money.
Money. Humanity's tormenter. I hate it. I love it. I have the same relationship with it as everybody else basically. I love it when I have it. I crave it when I don't, which leads me to hate it at those times. 

Now is one of those times.

Now is one of those times when I wake up in the morning craving a purpose, lusting for something to do, for people to meet, for conflicts to arise in my life, for challenges to step up to.

Now is one of those times when I simply can't understand what is happening and can't figure out what is about to happen either.

Now is one of those times when anything could go either way; I can make a mountain of grieves over nothing, and I can also look the other way over serious stuff.

Now is one of those times when I feel useless, when I feel powerless, but when I feel beautiful.

Beautiful because now I have all the time in the world to make myself beautiful. Because I wake up to no schedule, no perspectives, no special people, no specific plans, no nothing. Because make up seems a good activity when you have stopped eating, stopped reading and stopped thinking.

Thinking creeps up on me in the evenings though, and it doesn't leave me alone until I have surrendered to the ugly dreams I am having.

I miss the time when I used to dream of random stuff. All I have been dreaming about lately - and that is a considerable while - are cats, mice and yes, cockroaches.

I am being haunted in my sleep.

I am being haunted by being so careless about my cat. I am neglecting her, and it is torturing me in my sleep.

I am being haunted by cockroaches because I hate their guts. They disgust me to the core.

I am not sure what the mice are about though.

I could truly use a change of scene. I am so bored in here. I so deeply wish I could wake up somewhere where I can see new faces, unknown people. I so desperately wish to overhear a conversation and not be able to grasp a word of it.

I am so sick of people in here, of their dull faces and their meaningless stories.

Maybe people everywhere are like that, true, but, at least they will sound, look and feel new and fresh for a while at least. That would be a very welcome change.

I need to be away for a while in order for me to be able to handle the fact of simply seeing, let alone talking or interacting with the people around me.

In hope that the next entry would be a little less grim, I bid you farewell.

People In My Life, Forgive Me

People in my life, you deserve an apology.
People in my life, forgive me.

Forgive me for I have sinned.
Forgive me for I have lost my mind at times.
Forgive me for I haven't been totally honest with you.
Forgive me for I got scared.
Forgive me for I lost control.
For I gave in to an outburst.
For I got you entangled in my misery.
Forgive me for I am miserable.
Forgive me for I sometimes wipe my fake smile away.
For I use you.
For I abuse you.
Forgive me for I felt sorry for myself.
Forgive me for I have claimed innocence.
Forgive me for I cried.
For I lied.
For I was lied to.
For I took advantage of you.
For I let you take advantage of me.
Forgive me for I am weak.
For I am weaker than you.
Forgive me for my impatience.
Forgive me for my hastiness.
Forgive me for my ego.
For my vanity.
For my shallowness.
Forgive me for I have been selfish.
For I took it to extreme levels.
For I believed.
For I got deceived.
Forgive me for I was obnoxious.
Forgive me for I have treated you wrongly.
For I have let you treat me so.
Forgive me for the nostalgia I feed on.
Forgive me for my routine.
Forgive me for my dullness.
Forgive me for my security.
Forgive me for my self confidence.
Forgive me for my lack of confidence.
Forgive me for I seemed strong.
For I was not.
Forgive me for I let myself shatter.
Forgive me for I have let you shatter me.
Forgive me for my ambitions.
For my talent.
For my faults.
For my stubbornness.

Forgive me for I have sinned.

Forgive me for last night, for I was lost and now am found.

Forgive me for using biblical terms.
Forgive me for I have lost my faith.
Forgive me for I have problems.
For my trouble.
For yours.

Forgive me for my denial.
Forgive me for my pushiness.
Forgive me for my fantasies.
Forgive me for the world I built for myself.
For the nutshell I live in.
For the countries I have never visited.
For the trips I took.
For the trips I will never take.
For the sacrifices I made.
For the ones I will never make.

Forgive me for I was ingrate.
Forgive me for I have lost my grace.
Forgive me for I haven't been nice.
For I have given up.
For I have shown the truth at times.
For I have been myself at times.
For I have forgotten who you were at times.

Forgive me for I have ignored you.
For you have ignored me.
Forgive me for I had hoped.
For the hopes came true.
For the truth didn't last.

Forgive me for I was frail.
For I was fragile.
For I am frail.
For I am fragile.

Forgive me for I still have ambitions.
For I still have hopes.
For I yearn.
For I yearn for success.
For I yearn for health.
For I yearn for love.
Forgive me for I will never change.
Forgive me for I want to change.
Forgive me for I can't change.

Forgive me for I have let opportunities slide.
For I haven't made the effort.
For I have made the effort.
For I have stopped making the effort.

Forgive me for I am but human.
For I speak my mind.
For I don't.
For I love.
For I hate.
For I am needy.
For I am greedy.
For I never get enough.

Forgive me for it takes me time to withdraw.
Forgive me for I don't withdraw.
Forgive me for I can't leave my world.
For I take it with me wherever I go.

Forgive me for I want to let go.
Forgive me for I can't.

People in my life, forgive me.
Forgive me for my regrets.
Forgive me for I want to repent.
Forgive me... for I can't.

Do You Believe In Luck?

Do you? I do. I do because I believe in everything that offers both a thesis and an antithesis. 

The thesis goes as follows: You are lucky.

The antithesis is therefore logically: You are unlucky.

Luck. People crave it. People want it more than anything. They want it to interfere with every aspect of their lives. Work, family, cards, games, school, love, finding a cab, buying a house, traveling, lottery, etc...

People even depend on it. Take poker players for example.

Well let us get back to our constant subject, me. Me and my luck. Or my lack of it to be more precise.

Have you ever had the feeling that it is all backfiring on you? That somehow whatever you do and no matter how much effort you devote to your ends, something always gets in the way?

I am sure you have. But I am also sure you have never experienced it for 25 consecutive years.

I have.

My sole wish at the moment is that something, anything, works for me. I don't really care if it is as simple as finding a ride to work easily. Even that will leave me content and most grateful. I am that desperate for some luck in any shape, any.

I would love it if one day I would manage to skip the insomnia part and go right to the part where I snore.

I will wrap it up with this thought in hope it will come to life tonight.

You Guessed It, I Am Bored Again

You know you are so bored when you start playing minesweeper again. Take it from someone who knows, who has been there and has done that, playing minesweeper that is.

You know you are so bored when you advertise your boredom on your Facebook page and then you snap at anyone who tries to either joke about it or make it easier on you.

You know you are so bored when you wish your friends would come back to Lebanon for the sole purpose of entertaining you.

You know you are so bored when you are one step away of tossing your laptop and trampling on it.

You know you are so bored when you are unconsciously eavesdropping on people around you in the coffee shop and suddenly you feel exasperated but without knowing why. It takes you at least 10 to 15 minutes before realizing it is their banal exchange that is getting on your nerves.

But then again, any exchange at the moment, no matter how banal you might esteem it to be, could be a cure to this suffocating boredom.

Boredom and loneliness if I may add.

Or are both words synonyms? Are they the two facets of the same coin?

Getting back to the subject, you know you are bored when you start creating or even recycling nonsense philosophical matters.

You know you are so lonely when the void in your stomach isn't a sign of hunger. And that is not philosophy, that is simply a fact.

You know you are so lonely and so bored when you start doing things you wouldn't usually do, things you wouldn't usually approve of others doing, let alone you.

You know you are so lonely and so bored when you try to push it forward although you are not convinced. You know you are wrong, you know it is wrong, you know this is leading nowhere, well nowhere good at least, and yet, you do it.

You know you are so lonely and so bored when you don't really care. You say you care. You know you should care. But you simply don't. 

You know you are so lonely and so bored when you take hours to shower, pick some clothes, get dressed and do the make up and hair parade.

You know you are so lonely and so bored when after you are done with the parade, you head to the coffee shop with hopes that you will have enough energy to go somewhere else after a while. But you never go.

You know you are so lonely and so bored when you get stubborn. 

You know you are so lonely and so bored when you write a blog for the sake of writing it. You have nothing to say, nothing new to add, nothing meaningful to share, and still, you do it just to do something, something that is not necessarily new, not necessarily different, just another variety of your favorite activities; you love to read, you love to write, and you love to use your dying laptop, therefore you write another blog.

On Boredom and Routine

I don't know how many nights I have spent at this forsaken spot in Sassine Square during the past ten years or so, but a good estimate would be "most of them".

The coffee shop changed. The people who used to come in here changed. The cigarettes shop changed. The taxi drivers who used to drop me off home after long sleepless nights changed. And yet, I am still here. 

My friends joke about it sometimes, they say I am a construction column in this square. They say they could give directions based on my position in here. The second building to the left after Mireille they would say. 

Even when I do have plans for the evening, I end up here afterwards. I can't seem to be able to detach myself from this place. 

This piece of land holds many memories, many souvenirs, good and bad, and the way I see it, I can't move on and leave those moments behind. What if I never get to experience similar moments again? What if in case I move away the memories would fade and I would have no other way to recapture them?

Unemployment only feeds my addiction. Insomnia creeps in on me like a lost shadow, a desired one. I have no reason to wake up tomorrow. I don't have to be anywhere at any given time. So I am here. In the forsaken coffee shop. 

I read a bit. I play some virtual poker. I meet some friends. I have coffee. Then I have Diet Pepsi. A cookie too perhaps.

I am immersed in the music buzzing in my ears. I am enjoying quirky melodies. I am not sure what my taste really is anymore.

I secretly wish something would change. Here or elsewhere. Mostly here though. All of me is screaming for innovation, for surprise, for a thrill of some kind, of any kind.

What is it that I would really like to have most now, I ask myself. Is it money? Is it love? Is it success? Is it merely a job? Is it health?

I ask myself and I don't find the answer. I am not sure what I am craving. I am not sure what exactly is it that I want most, most badly.

Would any of the above do? Would one alone be enough? Is any even possible for such a bored soul?

If a soul is still in there indeed.

I just need change.

The other day, I decided to shower without scrubbing myself. It is a random embarrassing fact I know. But at the spur of the moment, it felt so needed, it felt so secretive, so innovative, so fresh, so liberating. Would anyone notice? Would I smell or something? What would not using a loofah for a day bring to the day? It brought nothing of course, but in the heat of boredom, it felt like it would. It didn't though.

The next day, I decided to take it a notch further. I didn't wash my hair! It is the extent you would go to if you were me. For years, I haven't left the house without washing my hair. I felt itchy the whole day, but that was about it. Nothing else happened following the unthinkable act of not washing my hair.

Tonight, I am flirting with the idea of cutting my hair short. But I won't do it. I don't have enough guts for it. I am such a wimp.

Today I heard dad's war stories for the nth time. I hate to admit it, but to the resonance of those stories, I wish a civil war would take place. It does seem very exciting, thrilling even, all the risks and such.

Page 144. Just a note in order not to forget to mark the passage in the book. I can't seem to find my marker in the mess of my huge purse.

Oh how many sentences and paragraphs have I highlighted so far. To what end? The question hangs in the air.

My mother wanted to take advantage of my time off. She asked me to place my collection of postcards in 2 big bags so she could get them out of her way, and away from me. Not that I ever look at them anymore, but still, now they are far and I can't look at them if I felt like it.

I am just nagging. About nothing and everything. Nagging is in my genes.

I wonder when my phone is going to ring next. Probably tomorrow. But who will it be? What will it regard? A job perhaps? A date? Yeah, as if. 

I dreamed that I was driving my father's car the other day, and I was colliding with other cars to the point of almost causing accidents several times. I looked it up, I couldn't find a definite interpretation but for all it is worth, driving in your dream represents your path in life.

I am also dreaming a lot about cats lately. Before that it was mice. Go figure. A chase maybe.

I should get that tooth fixed, but the appointment keeps getting cancelled. Either the doctor's parents are in the hospital, one at a time or simultaneously, either he has a union meeting, either he is having kidney stones removed all of a sudden. 

Good night. Well maybe not immediately, but eventually.