I (less than three) Naps

This weather is killing me.

I'm starting to think that maybe I'm a bad luck magnet or I have really bad karma or something, even though I don't really believe in karma. My mom called me her "little rabbit's foot" for a while because my "luck" was so bad, with threads in my life unraveling over and over again. I'm not sure about the whole bad luck thing, but I think that I'm bringing bad weather. L.A. is notorious for gorgeous weather, and this past summer, every day was thick with a marine layer and gray clouds. It's like that in Memphis right now, too. I kept thinking before I moved home,

Well, at least you're moving back in the summer - the best time to be in Memphis. If you had to move back in November, it'd be so gray and dark that you'd blow your brains out, so maybe at least with the nice weather you won't feel quite as depressed.

Joke's on me.

The sun just broke through for about 5 seconds. Thank GOD.

I might have to start tanning. Vitamin D saves.

I've been taking a lot of naps recently and having these really weird, weighty anxiety dreams.

I don't understand this napping business. I've been taking at least a one hour nap every day, and my mom says she thinks my body is still recovering from dramatic stress for two years. Seems to me that the body could recover from stress in about two weeks. I'm always looking for a faster way.

Side note.

Stupid effing clouds just hid the sun again.

I never understand those melodramatic people who love clouds and rain and Seattle and winter.

Maybe I shouldn't hate on the melodramatics. I happen to breathe melodrama. In fact, if I was a gay man, I know for sure that I wouldn't be one of those very professional and well groomed news reporter types. I'd be a gorgeous, diva drag queen with lots of glittery eye make up and screeching gestures and sassy sayings. I'd call everyone a "Glamor Kitten" or a "Bitch," real lispy and giggly, and I'd wear my melodrama on my sleeve with pride.

So back to my naps. Every time I take a nap, I'm asleep in about 10 minutes, and I start to sleep so hard that my face feels like it's swallowed up in pavement. I breathe really heavy and my whole body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds and the mattress is eating me alive. And then I start to dream.

Yesterday I had a really bad anxiety dream and I woke up all sweaty, which really irritated me, because I had just changed my sheets, and the thought of sweaty sheets absolutely disgusts me. I brush my teeth, change my panties, and change my sheets far more frequently than the average Jane.

So my dream yesterday was one involving a lot of interpersonal conflict, and me running around crying out for help to a bunch of people who were too preoccupied or disinterested to help or listen to me, and then the whole inside of my house was covered in snow, and I didn't have a coat. It was like "The Shining" turned inside out. I hate snow.

Then I woke up and felt very needy. I felt like I needed a hug from a grandparent. I felt like I needed someone to say, "It's going to be OK."

But instead of finding a way to meet that needy need, I psychoanalyzed instead, and started thinking, "Hot dang, Rachel. You're such a control freak."

This is one of millions of reasons why I miss my best L.A. friend a lot. We talked very openly and vulnerably about our need for control, and I really miss normalizing this gravitation that I have for order and safety.

I started out writing today with this end goal in mind. "I need to write about this, this, and this..." But guess what. I just took one of those killer naps. This one was a really good one. And now I have to let our dog out.