a number of interesting things happened in my dreams last night.

i found a pair of my ex-boyfriend's shoes in my room. they were this kind of silly imitation timberland boots called lugz. i had to go return them.

i also got high. i forgot where i was, exactly. in some basement. and i stained my shirt and even though i was high (for the first time) i tried to show off that i could clean the stain. i'm currently googling "getting high in a dream". it's happened to me once or twice and it's rather fascinating because it feels exactly how i think it would feel in real life.

ok so those things aren't very interesting. lately my dreams have been a lot more tame.

i'm suffering from a lot less anxiety. temporarily.

3:37 am

now that i have created this blog and the idea of it has been sitting in my head for an hour, i can't sleep and feel like writing.

i've had the following thoughts:

i am attracted to the character of "the dude" in the big lebowski. what does that say about me?

if i had stayed at emerson what the hell and how the hell would i be doing?

how did the belly get so big other than the excessive emotional eating and lack of physical activity over the past couple of months?

will the crystal light powder packets give me cancer?

is the level of comfort than comes with a long-term relationship dangerous in ways?

1. I like the way he talks. I suppose I'm naturally attracted to witty banter. I like the way he dresses. There is no explanation for that. I like his man legs. I'm a leg-woman. And it says that I am naturally attracted to somewhat detached, aloof characters who in some way present themselves as a challenge. Is the Dude doable? Most certainly. Is he dateable? Reliable? Obviously not.

2. I'd be wondering what I'd be doing and how I'd be doing if I transferred. Such is life. Though I would be getting laid more often. (by my boyfriend) (ahem)

3. There has been a pattern of excessive emotional eating and lack of physical activity that comes with depression and the treatment of depression that has turned me into a dollop of mashed potatoes.

4. Not before everything else does.

5. Here's the thing. My boyfriend is my best friend. It's been almost two years since we've started seeing each other and almost a year and a half since we've been offic (official). And we've gotten to that point. I've audibly passed gassed near him more than 5 times and we've become proficient at communicating in half sentences i.e.:

Scott: Remember the, uh, the...

Danielle: Yeah with Nicole Kidman. Isn't she....?

Scott: Yup

He's seen me without mascara countless times and I've memorized the smell of his morning breath. Though I still make the effort to look smokin for him and there is never a lack of spark, this is the point in a relationship that starts making me nervous. Why? This is where patterns develop. Comfy, natural routines begin making themselves clear to both parties and I believe that if one becomes too jaded by them, the relationship itself will become a routine. A thing of comfort like a cup of tea each night. And this could be a great thing but this could also be dangerous. Such an essential part of being in a successful long-term relationship is being able to grow and change together, and in some cases, apart, and accept the growth and change at each stage. I never want to stop learning about Scott and always look forward to being surprised. Am I really nervous about us? Not really. Our very stance as a couple defies relationship patterns, in my opinion. What does that even mean.

Oh geeze. I ran out of fuel I suppose. Oh well. Finger exercises, these are.

i won't explain myself

i'm not sure where exactly writing stands in my life.

i'm not exactly sure if everyday i deprive myself from taking my thoughts and musings and playing around with them and making them as tangible as they could ever be-

or if i just refuse to indulge in what i know consider to be a wasted gift.

that's pretty silly. if i were to write everyday, one day going on about an incident involving the police and hungarian goulash and the next justifying the gaping gap (didn't want to say hole) in my life, it would be much less of an indulgence.

what then, would it be?

perhaps a trip to the therapist, or rather analyst. you see, a therapists asks questions, in some cases, interrogates, so that the patient can think aloud and perhaps feel relief AND receive life advice while an analyst says nothing. which one is a shrink?

perhaps it would be an exercise in a once beloved pastime, which has been since neglected and replaced with reality television, sex, and bad credit (well underwear is a need, and so are tacos and so are gifts for the boyfriend).

does it even matter?

i just need something to do and somewhere to go and since i spend copious amounts of time on the internet, googling things such as "amuse bouche for thanksgiving" and my own name and "how much does rosetta stone cost" and "how to become a food writer", watching dozens of youtube videos of the Westboro Baptist Church, and writing run on sentences in instant messages to my boyfriend who currently resides in a city called too-bloody-far-away. city.

so here i am. how does this compare to google so far? less informative, but more of a hand workout. how does this compare to the westboro baptist church? well it's a lot more homofriendly, and though so far we both share love for letters and words, mine are probably a lot less controversial.

so i'll write in this thing. because i need something to do other than wait until both my room and my life cleans itself up.

to warn you, i will write about absolutely nothing. i find that nothing can be the most relatable and meaningful subject, as well as the most humorous.

p.s. this is my baby penguin leroy