And It's Hard to Dance With The Devil On Your Back

So, it's come to everybody's attention that it's time for me to move out of Holly and Rob's house. "Moving Out" is an ironic term given that I pay for my own apartment in Newport. But during this grad school application process I sort of just migrated back down to the rolling hills of San Juan Capistrano (my apartment is rather bantam and I don't have a desk there). Needless to say, the family has collectively decided that I have outstayed my welcome. So, I have big grown up plans to move back into my lonely, unoccupied room in Newport Shores as soon as I get back from Sun Valley. This is good too because last night I think I received a sign.

Well, I was having the most fitful sleep. This may have been induced by the World War II novel I am reading, Unbroken. It is a positively horrifying book and details what the Japanese POW camps were like during this time. However, had I been alive in this era, I am certain I would have been head over heels in love with Louis Zamperini. His wiley, brazen nature, his iron will, really just an excellent synthesis of the exemplary man. The heart and soul of a sexpot. But, during this termagant sleep, I had the most appropriate of dreams. The sign I alluded to previously. Well, this dream started out like any other normal dream would. But then I walked into my Newport apartment and into my room, and to my outrage, I saw that my roommate had painted my room a shocking aqua. Now I was resolutely sure that I had never painted my room aqua as this would be far too committal of a move for me. As I looked around, I also noticed that my bed now resided in her room. Her tackle and possessions unabashedly littering my 12 x 12 foot space, casually lounging around as if I never existed. (Author's note: Heather, if you're reading this, I know you wouldn't do this in real life, it's just the universe's subconscious threatening ploy- trying to scare me into moving back). So, it's been decided, I am to move back to my little abode in the first week of January, where I am to resume being an autonomous adult.

Before the occurrence of this whole wrestling match with sleep, I went over to my gal, Christina King's house. Over CK's ambrosial turkey chili, we watched 50/50 -- I am not at liberty to tell you how we came into possession of this film at this time. This movie has a pretty lavish cast with Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Seth Rogen, Bryce Dallas Howard, Angelica Houston, and Anna Kendrick. I think each of them did a meritorious job too, especially Anna Kendrick. She always plays these awkward, annoying characters, but I think she is extremely shrewd and talented. Moreover, I was wrought with anguish over Adam's plight with cancer. It happens to him out of nowhere, and this is one of those stories of perspective, illustrating how life is so very fleeting, etc. While watching Adam's decline, I literally felt sick to my stomach like I do whenever I feel any sort of lugubrious emotion.

So I started considering my own life as one does after these reflection-inducing films, and I thought to myself, I could get cancer tomorrow. I mean it's a very real possibility. Or somebody I love could get it. And then, I was immediately so far down the vortex of this thought process that I bought the book, Facing Cancer Together. I know, I'm completely batty with the way I become intrigued/obsessed with things. Like I recognize I'm completely nuts. Just a little light recreational reading during this holiday season. But, I was thinking it's really not a bad subject to have a low level of awareness about given its prevalence in contemporary society. I'm a creep?

JUST HEARD ON THE PHONE:

Rob: Blair? It's your father.

Me: Hi, dad. How are you?

Rob: Well, your blog sucked less than it usually does today. Listen, can you do me a favor?

Well, alright then, I have to go do a plyometrics workout with 16 year old's now. 


Xx,

Petey