Who am I kidding?

Yesterday's entry was a little off. Steve did it all. He asked me the right questions and I somehow gave him the right answers. He didn't help me figure out what was wrong, he figured out what was wrong and told me how to fix it.

He's a friggin' big brain, my friends!

Bless Steve and the horse he rode in on!

He helped me figure out why the image on the Look At Me! page wasn't updating like it should.

It's working now, but I have to wait for my hair to stop being bratty before I put up any new images.

Rynnie happy.

Today, I went in for my MRI. Yes, I laid in a metal tube and chanted to keep myself from moving.

What did I chant?

Gyllenhaal. (Jill. En. Hall.) It worked with the rhythm of the machine. I started with Nom Yo Ho Ring Geay Ceow, but it didn't fit with the thumps and buzzes and the sound of, what at first I thought was, a drill, as well as Gyllenhaal did.

When I got out the tech asked me if the machine talked to me. Some people, he said, say that the machine talks to them. I was hurt for a moment, I mean, what did I ever do to that machine? Why isn't it talking to me?

Then I thought this is why I should be having an MRI; I'm clearly insane.

I bet the image of the inside of my skull will be a sign reading "Out of order, we appologize for any inconvience."

I.
Am.
Obsessed.
With.
Stringing.
Beads.
So.
Pretty.

Okay people, I have more movies that you MUST see; Moonlight Mile is the first. I know it looks like a tear jerker, but it has some honestly funny moments. The second is Highway; it's a road movie but it has an askew reality to it.

Oh, both star Jake Gyllenhaal, who, I'm convinced, can play any character. If you are making a film, I think you should hire him.

And tell him I said so.

My advice to the makers of Matrix 2; less talking, more kicking.

I can't stop watching Bubble Boy. Jake Gyllenhaal is so sweet and bite worthy in this movie, and the commentary with him and the director makes him only more so.

I wonder if he'd marry me. If only so we could drive people insane by trying to pronounce Rynn Astra Lemieux-Gyllenhaal.

Come on, Jake; you like a good laugh, don't cha?

I can't see the Luna Eclipse from here. I went over to Indian Rock (while it surprises me that it hasn't been renamed Native American Rock it didn't surprise me that it was crowded) but couldn't see anything from there. I'm bummin'.

I wanted to see the Red Moon (see the blue is blocked by the Earth and it makes the moon red) but I can't. The sky was muted by fog and the rock was crowded by nerds (geeks?) so I go without.

Did anyone out there take pictures?

Why do I suddenly feel like crying?

I'm really tired but that shouldn't make me sad. I took my meds, I watched some good movies, why am I pooling up?

What has happened that is making me so upset? Why is the Great Whoever bitch slapping me with irrational emotions?

Of course, I think there's a tumor in my head that's encroaching on the sorrow part of my brain. I'm not going to be able to think otherwise until the tests I haven't taken yet come back saying I'm okay.

Anyone want to come over and hold me?

Guess who woke up at 4am, didn't have any coffee, and then fell asleep in front of the tv until just a few minutes before her appointment?

That would be me. I rescheduled for Monday. Whee, another 4am wake up!

Before you ask, no, you can't be me.

I got to wake up at 4am today.

Got to. Heh.

I'm getting an EEG today and they decided that the best for a person to deal with the stress of having a majorly important medical test is to have them wake up way fucking early.

So that's what I'm doing.

I wasn't worried about this test at all, mostly because I thought that Kaiser had screwed it up and scheduled it by mistake, but even when I found out that I was going to have it, I was more upset about waking up at 4.

Did I mention that I've been up since 4? I did? Okay.

I don't even leave the house for another hour and a half.

OH! AND I don't get to have any coffee. Well, fuck me runnin'! 4am, no coffee; are they trying to make me kill someone? The only thing that made it easier to get up at 5am when I was working was the prospect of coffee. It's only 10 feet and a bit of gurgling way from a cup of coffee.

Must remember to ask hospital staff where the closest coffee place is.

Is it bad when your eyes feel like raisins? Or would that be prunes are far as size goes? No, prunes are juicer than raisins. If you're just tuning in; my eyes feel like really big raisins. I have eye drops, but do I trust myself to use them?

Holy jumpin' christ, it's not even 6am yet. Can't someone else do this for me so I can go back to sleep?

I'm having nightmares about horribly tall buildings and being in glass elevators; I'm afraid of heights. In one of these dreams I was talking to someone in the elevator and the wall she was leaning against started to bow out and seperate from the connecting glass panel. I could see empty space, and could feel myself falling. I eased myself down to the floor and told the woman not to lean against the wall.

The other nightmares are about the Hilton. I'm still working there but shouldn't be. I ask the manager if I'm going to be on the next week's schedule. He goes in to the director's office, then comes out and tells me I have to leave the property right now. In the dream I know they are going to try to get out of paying me even though they have had me still on the schedule for weeks. Now that I'm awake and able to think about it, I think it's more about not being seen, not being appreciated, than it is about money. That is one of the reasons I hated that job. I know the moment I left someone filled the space I left and it didn't make much difference to anyone.

God, I'm glad I'm not there anymore.

I got out of bed at 2:15pm today. I went to bed at 2am. Although I had one of those awake/asleep nights, I still slept a long ass time. I had dreams about Dana Gould, Theanna, Diane, and Jake Gyllenhaal, the last gave me an irriating neck rub that led me to believe that he would be bad in bed.

I gave a bartender a taste of my flirting skills yesterday. He was Irish and had that just rolled out of bed look. His name is David. I don't think I flirt well. I believe I might have embarrassed myself.

Ah, well, back on that horse.

Before I forget again...

Has anyone seen the Snuggle commerical were the porcupine and the skunk are pretending to be Snuggle? At the end the Real Snuggle falls, giggling into the clothes basket, with his fuzzy little arms behind his head.

I swear it looks that that bear is getting head. His hips are moving out of frame and his eyes are rolling around. The only thing that makes me think that this might not be the case is that he doesn't reach down to the back of the skunk's head (I wouldn't let a porcupine suck my dick, would you?) to push it down to make the skunk gag on his bear prick. Oh, sorry, I mean is cute, fluffy bear prick.

I assume the porcupine was the one filming it.

So, therapy, huh?

Arg! I am a bad person! It's not Kitty Bitty, it's Kitty Witty!

I'll be lucky if he ever mews at me again.

I'm making it official.

I have given up on the guy.

I don't think I want to be with someone who is so casual with my feelings. I know that I need to be patient with him but what about my feelings? I can't think about being with someone who is so careless about my feelings. Yes, he is young, and yes, he is a guy, but he's still supposed to be my friend. He didn't even drop me a quickie email like he sent to other friends to let them know his computer was broken. He never gave me his phone number although he has mine he's hasn't used it. There are better guys, and if their aren't, I don't think I want one.

I'm taking applications. Send references. I will be checking them.

I got my first unemployment check today.

Yay! Meds and food! I'm so releaved. If I had showered today I would go out and stick this check into my bank account, but I'm too stinky to be out around people.

Tomorrow I'm going to put in my other scripts, go see Identity.

Right now I'm going to start to make out an order on Safeway.com because I get the discounts that I would if I went to the store, and for the heavy stuff I would have to take a cab, and that's almost the same as the delivery charge and I don't have to carry anything.

Sweet.

With all my brain issues I forgot to tell you about Kitty-bitty.

His real name is Gatsby, but he answers to Kitty-bitty. He is Michael and Charles's cat. He's hypoallergnic so his fur is *so* soft, he feels like velvet. And instead of saying, "meow," he kind of quacks.

I love him. He's got the head of a hairless cat and a whip thin tail, and a fat body. He's so goddamn cute I nearly bit him at one point.

When he does kittyloaf, you can't see his feet at all.

He's black, so when he closes his eyes his face disappears.

So, fucking cute. I wish I would have taken my camera with me so I could post a picture. Maybe next time.

Daw. Kitty!

Guess who's getting an MRI.

I'm going to the neurologist today.

I've been hearing music when there is none. There's pressure in my head that is feels like I'm swimming under water except there is a boom, boom, boom sound.

I hope it's just the meds, but I want to be sure.

Today I go over to Charles's and we work on his website using HTML. I'm not great with it, but I have almost a handle on it. I'm taking all my cheat sheets with me, and I know how to find other guides on line. I'll post the url when it looks like something.

I went to pick up my new antidepressants yesterday, thinking that it would be the $8 that most of my 'scripts are.

It was over $43. I don't have that much money. I have $10 in my pocket and just over $8 in the bank. I don't know what I'm going to do if I don't get unemployment. I so scared that I feel achy, as if I'm getting sick.

Everything is falling apart and I don't know what to do about it.

Why is everything so difficult? I'd like to think that if you try hard enough, that things will work out and everyone will be happy again. It doesn't seem to work that way. All the forgiveness in the world can't make someone feel better if they haven't forgiven themselves. I might be making too much of this, it wouldn't be the first time that I blew everything out of proportion. And sadly it won't be the last. I just want everything to go back to when I thought I knew what was going on. At the very least there was communication.

I'm blowing off steam here. I don't want anyone to feel obligated to do anything that they aren't ready to do or that they don't want to do anymore.

I'm feeling so sad, as if someone has died. Where did the fun go?

I'm bored. Who wants to entertain me?

Anyone?

A song. A dance. Some selzer down the pants. (Tickles.) Tell me a story. Review a movie I haven't seen.

I've taken to watching Sunday Night Sex Show every night at 11pm. I'm learning stuff that I have no opportunity to use. There was just a bumper that read, When dealing with the clit, remember a woman wants to be aroused, not erased. Heeheehee. That is perfect. I like this show, the woman, Sue Johansan, looks like your maiden aunt but does hand motions like she's masterbating and what a penis does inside a vagina. It delights me not end that she says things that are blush worthy as if she is giving someone the recipe for apple pie.

I think she's Canadian.

Bless her and her important work.

I think she's on Letterman tonight. This I have to see.

Heh heh.

Singing.

All by myself, I don't want to be, all by myself, anymore.

When the Webutrion is out of my system, in three days according to the doctor, I'm going to get drunk.

I probably won't, but it feels good to know I will have the option.