Awakening from a crazy dream, I realized I was sweating buckets. It was gross, but I woke up out of breath and scared as hell for no reason. I drempt (is that a word) that I was being flushed down a kitchen faucet. I fell into this pool and started to drown. I couldn’t swim. It was night and no one was there. I was in a closed park or residential pool that was locked. I ended up at the surface and security were calling the police and I was being questioned for “breaking and entering.” Then it started to shower with lightning all around me. At the crack of piercing thunder, I woke up.
I guess I’m partially sick. I have a sour taste in my mouth since the morning. I was going to go on a run today cuz I haven’t been active for a while. My stomach hurts so I took Pepto-Bismol. For breakfast, I had 4 cups of coffee and now I can’t stop moving. I’m bouncing around while reading, while doing laundry, and polluting the air with my singing of “Just Like a Woman.”
To top off everything my cat ran away this morning. It was a one year old tabby. My dad said he was going to look around the neighborhood, but he got home late from work. I am sad because I think he’s been made into a meal for the wild animals. My muscles are sore and now I finally think the coffee is taking its toll on me. Sorry to all who called me today; I haven’t been myself and twas feeling ornery for the better part of the day. I’m still going bowling this weekend.
Before and after pics of food in advertising to the actual thing. One more reason to not eat fast food.
TV sucks. I’m the kind of person who is never content with watching the boob tube for extended periods of time. I’d rather consciously lack thinking than be hypnotized by television and the promotional commercials. As a matter of fact, I sat down with the lights turned off, let in a hint of sunlight, and stared at my wall in my room for 10 minutes straight and tried to condense my thoughts. The 10 minutes last a lifetime, but the 600 seconds are quite pleasant.
“Beyond the Horizon,” from Modern Times by Bob Dylan was playing on the radio at 98.9 FM, more specifically on the show called American Roots. I might have to listen to that station more often. I was just skipping through stations and I heard the song. I’ve never heard a new tune by Dylan on the radio before; probably because I hardly listen and he doesn’t fit in commercially with all the other stations.
I’m going to start by revealing how I got started here. I’ve never kept an actual diary before. I like to write things down, partly because I can look back at myself and the other part is I can keep track of my thoughts. Instead of displaying my activities on myspace, I wanted to make my own site. The vision I had was I could have complete strangers read and be read without the worry of being invited or accepted based on criteria of your profile. It doesn’t matter here. I have a myspace, but I get sick of the guys messaging me with inappropriate material. In other words- being rude and invasive and making me feel uncomfortable. Plus there is some bad news that myspace was invented on a spam marketing scheme. No wonder all those bulletins are just more advertisements. I can understand advertising to keep the site in business, but half a page of ads? I had to delete my account because it got hacked and sent porn links to my friends. Now I only touch myspace with a stick to keep in touch with friends. It’s pretty hard to type with a stick though.
Anyway, back on topic. So I had a plan, now I needed to execute it. What should I call it? I had a few names that I liked.
- eyeslikesparks.com
- brokenself.com
- myrah.com
- drypond.com
- dreamself.com
- hightime.com
- runawaywind.com
A few of those were taken already. I wanted something short, but I couldn’t find the perfect name. I became desperate. I was searching for the wackiest site names. I found out that FreePMS.com is available, but that’s not what I wanted to make my site into. Eventually I thought of the word complex and how even the word “complex” has several complicated meanings. It can be a chemical compound, psychological abnormality, or a nexus of intricate parts that is hard to explain. I thought all definitions applied to my objective to some degree. The name also has a double interpretation grammatically. It can mean…
- Verb: Complex me. As a command, saying “Confuse me,” or make me think.
- Adjective: Complex me. As a description of me being hard to understand or being composed of a series of impulses, emotions, or molecules.
Before I was able to make my own website, I found a guy who does web design. Ironically, I found his site when looking for relevant happenings in my town, and we have some of the same interests. So I asked if he could help set up the technical stuff for me. He registered my website name for me and put up a wordpress blog for me. Then he added a few theme templates that were free to use and he ended up not charging for his time. And my site is working just how I want it!
Welcome to Complex Me. This is you and me interacting. Edit or delete your reaction, then start being! and the rest is up to me and the readers to gather and exchange pieces of our mind for everyone’s benefit.
I’ll be growing and so will this site. Prepare yourself. It may will be a bumpy ride. Let’s take it together.
