Mish Mash

My Supposed To Yesterday:

-wake up at 6am
-leave the house at 7am
-catch the bus at 8:30am
-arrive in the Loo at 10am
-attend a very important meeting at 11am
-see a house
-hand out resumes
-take transit home

My Actual Yesterday

-slept in until 9am
-freaked out
-made apology phone calls
-had sushi for lunch with the boys
-vegged out at my house
-went lappy shopping
-had chai in the sun
-vegged more
-went to see Pulse

I lie when I say that I went to see Pulse, because I didn't really 'see' it at all. My experience with the movie was something more like "I endured it" as opposed to "I saw it", as Alex so eloquently put it. Pulse is a horror movie. I don't do horror. I don't do thriller, or even action, really. I'm a big ol' fraidy cat and I say that almost proudly. I've seen about three scary movies in my entire life; Se7en was watched from behind a column in my friend's living room (I could duck behind it when scary parts were on screen), Scream was watched because I didn't want to be an open wuss in front of my friends yet, so I watched it with two pillows for my ears and one for my eyes, and I walked out of the theater part way through Red Dragon. How did I ever make it through Pulse? Well, let's just say that I was curled up into a little ball in my seat, my eyes were shut so tightly that I'm surprised my mascara didn't smear more, and I really wish that I had trimmed my finger nails beforehand because jamming them into my ears really hurt after a while.

I can't explain why I never got over my fear of scary movies because it seems that a lot of people can. I went because I thought I was up to the challenge of finally 'facing my fear' and all that trite stuff, but as it turns out, I'm not getting over this one at all. My fear of heights? Meh, I'll just jump out of this plane that's 13,000 feet in the air (<-- totally doing that again on Sunday!). But I still can't walk across a bridge comfortably. Don't know why. Personally, I think the reason why I can't do the scary movie thing is that seeing one is sensory overload for me. In the theater, the screen is huge and things are always flashing so that if I don't end up twitching on the floor, I'll have a really bad headache. And the sound is just so...LOUD. The booming and screaming and AHHH! rattles me to my bones and listening to the movie with my ears plugged is even too much for me. So you can argue that there's silence in horror movies. Yeah, sure. There's always silence right before banshee screams pierce your eardrums.

Ever since I read The Odyssey, I've always thought of myself as Circe-like because I too was sensory like her. I enjoy rich colours and smells and the texture of different fabrics and delicious food and beautiful music. I totally dig having my senses stimulated. But in a movie theater, especially when there's a scary movie on, I feel like they're being assaulted all at once and my nerves just can't handle it. When I listen to music, I can only listen to music. I can't do anything else or I won't enjoy the songs. When I talk on the phone, I sit there and talk on the phone. If I start cleaning or doing dishes, I stop listening to the person. I have never, ever been able to read while the TV is playing. I have to pick one and give it my full attention.

I am also a visual learner and have an overactive imagination. When I see something memorable, the image ingrains itself into my brain, and then my imagination takes that image and plays with it. For a very long time. I can still see scenes from all those scary movies I saw when I was younger and yes, they still creep me out. I listened to Pulse more than I watched it, and even with my eyes shut tightly, I still played a movie in my head depending on what I heard and what scenery and images I had already taken in. See, you give me a bit of something to look at, and I can take it and turn it into a whole movie in my head. Weird, I know. And a final word on my fraidy cat-like quality: I once peed my pants in a haunted house because I got scared by a big, fuzzy ball on a string. Yes, that's how bad it is. Let's keep this information to ourselves, shall we?

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I finally went to the Loo today and did all the things I was supposed to do yesterday. I got the info I missed, I saw the house and I went looking for employment. Everything went fairly swimmingly, except that looking for a position as a server can be discouraging with little restaurant experience. Okay, so I know that a few months' experience doesn't sound like very much, and okay, so I've never served alcohol and I've never poured fancy wine, but I SWEAR, just give me a chance and I'll be an awesome waitress, just you watch. I'm nice! And I can carry three full plates of food! And I check up on people's meals and offer freshly ground pepper because I hate it when I go out to eat and they don't.

I left a few places feeling like I was really quite foolish for thinking I could even try to get a job there. After a couple bad experiences, I stopped going into fancy restaurants altogether. Humph. I bought two veggie samosas from an organic food store thinking they'd make me feel better. I sat on a bench outside the bus station eating one of my samosas, feeling really relaxed. The sun was keeping me warm and my feet were resting from a day full of walking. I dangled one of my thong sandals from my big toe. I inspected my nails and picked at my cuticles. I took a big bite of potato, peas and spices when a car on the street in front of me rolled down a window. "Excuse me." I looked up. "You're really beautiful." Huh?

Gulp. I sat straight up. I quickly swallowed as much of the samosa as I could, but I hadn't chewed all of it and so when I tried to say Thank You! it came out all garbled and ...food-y. I tried to smile. Then I remembered I had food in my mouth. I tried to look feminine and dainty and beautiful, but his deed was done so he waved and drove off. I sat backed, chewed, swallowed and smiled to myself. How ridiculous was that?

I feel silly saying that something so superficial could make my night, but it really did. The difference between this time and all the other times that I've been complimented is that I was being fairly unattractive when this boy took notice of me. I was sitting hunched over on a bench, huddled over an Indian snack in a bag, with my sandal hanging off my toe and a big gob of food in my mouth. My shirt was dirty from when a piece of potato fell out of the samosa and rolled down my white tank, the curry leaving a trail of stain. I was picking at my nails. I even said Thank you with my mouth full. Bless him for thinking I was beautiful when I was in such a natural and rugged state, and even more blessings to him for making the effort to tell me.

Talk about making me feel better. Pfft, I don't need to be a waitress in a nice restaurant. I'll just sit on benches eating and wait for nice boys to tell me I'm pretty.

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And whoa, has anyone read about this? New planets? What the hell? Everything I was taught in school is going to be thrown out of whack, from astrology (is my moon going to be in Venus this month or Ceres? or Charon?) to My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas.

Bonus geek points if you know who Ceres and Charon are! And Circe!
11:39 pm