You want to know the truth? Okay, I’ll tell you the truth. The truth is that it’s 4 in the morning and I have an uncontrolable urge to blog. If I don’t blog my head will explode in a gooey mess all over my pillowcase.
I haven’t blogged in a while. There’s just too much to write about that it’s hard to find a beginning. It’s like twirling a roll of scotch tape around and around in your fingertips looking for the starting point. Oh how I hate that.
I haven’t had insomnia in a long time. I’ve been content these days. Muttering about and keeping myself occupied with delusions of grandeur while massaging wealthy people’s derrière’s.
I’ve decided to nix it on the Gateway community college plan and reach for bigger banana’s. So, I applied to UCONN for spring semester. I have a better chance of being mistaken for a black man than I do with getting accepted into UCONN. It’s a long shot, but I don’t have anything to lose except for pride and even that comes in short supply whenever I open a vein to pour out all over my keyboard and into the world for you kind people.
I’ve been telling my clients about my goals and my fears of rejection. Two of them told me to apply to Manchester community college as a back-up. Two years and a 3.0 GPA will get me automatic acceptance into UCONN and easy transfer of credits. This knowledge alleviated all my worry. Backup plans give such a relief!
My clients give awesome advice, I mean seriously. One of them told me that I can get a grant just because I’m the first person in my family to go to college. It makes me feel like an impoverished immigrant, but an immigrant who’s much obliged to take their money.
I need all the grants I can get. I applied to FAFSA and they rejected me because I make too much money. Are they shitting me? My score is 05447 whatever the hell that means. I don’t make much, but I guess there are people out there who make a lot less. It’s those damned impoverished immigrants…(grumble grumble). Okay, just kidding. I love immigrants! They remind me of Fievel Mouskewitz.
You know, come to think of it, I HAVE been having trouble sleeping. This is going to sound insane, but I assure you that it’s the real deal. I am the real deal baby cakes.
There’s this thing called astral projection. It’s when your soul, or chi, ki, life force – whatever you want to call it leaves your body and travels to only God know’s where. Few people have control over where they go, they just go – they leave their body.
I’ve been with this “gift” since I was 9 and my grandma died and paid me a visit from the afterlife.
Sounds crazy? I’m with you! I’ve been a bit leery in writing about it because it sounds too far-fetched and would discredit everything I’ve ever written. (Or maybe I have written about it already, I just can’t remember.)
Anyway, whether you believe me or not, I can astral project. I am an astral projector who has flown at tremendous speeds through space. I’ve seen actual spaceships that my mind could never conjure up on its own – gold, shiny and multi-tiered spaceships that I couldn’t replicate when I tried to draw them after I woke.
I’ve been in the body of my past life, I hugged my grandma one last time, I’ve been encompassed with a bright white light bearing with it a deafening feeling of power and intimidation. I felt myself as a ghost in my bedroom.
Yeah, I know, cool, right? Wrong! It sucks and I hate it.
When my mind’s content, maybe slightly aroused with a heightened sense of well-being (when I say “heightened” I mean “beer induced”), My stupid soul wants to leave this body behind. It’s weird cause I’m really bad at directions, but my soul shoots out and seems to know where to go.
Sometimes I fall asleep so fast that my mind is still awake – that’s when it happens. The pulling away. The static, or the roaring of an industrial-size generator reverberating into my eardrums. Last week I heard tv’s. I was napping around 3 or 4 o’clock – nobody home but me. I got comfy, closed my eyes and began to doze. That’s when I heard a tv. Then it got louder. I was still conscious and thought my Dad came home and turned on the tv in the next room. I woke myself up and heard nothing. No tv. I was still the only one in the house. I rest my head, start to doze again and this time I hear what sounds like every tv in Cheshire was sitting in my bedroom, volume blaring, all on different channels.
“Are you kidding?! I just want to sleep!”
If I didn’t wake myself up from that, the next step would be the vibrations. The vibrations happen when your soul is disconnecting itself from the physical form. And when I don’t wake myself up from the vibrations, I find myself either floating over a small village that looks eerily familiar, flying in space at light speed presumable down a worm hole, or the one time I woke up still in my bedroom – I sat up to rub my face but started panicking when I seen my transparent arms.
So yeah, I’ve been suffering from that. Not exactly the kind of sleep disturbance a sleep clinic can help with. Maybe a shrink…..
I wake myself up when the vibrations hit. It can make for a restless night.
Shit, well, I should at least try to sleep tonight.
Sorry I haven’t been blogging. I was avoiding telling you that I applied to UCONN. I wanted my rejection to be private, but in the bigger scope of things, it’s not important.
It’s funny how I don’t blog when I’m trying to hide something. That one little nuance hindered me. I don’t want to blog unless I can be whole-heartedly truthful, otherwise whats the point? To make me look good? You all know I’m way past that.
I didn’t even dent the surface of what I need to get out of me, but alas I must ride off into the sunset of sleep. I tip my hat. Goodnight.