what happens when the lights go out

Everything. Race car dreams and perfect makeup application. Good sleep punctuated by the dog kicking me in the stomach as he stretches. Russian snowfalls, walking in the mountains and a George Strait serenade come to mind as frequent scenes.

My thoughts are my own and I'm actually quite glad that my readership on this blog is zero. Any chance of someone else reading my words is quite threatening and a imposition on my personal feelings and not to mention my erractic blogging schedule. Things that I will never tire of but never admit to anyone else will always include:

I talk to myself on the toilet. Every time and usually in the dark.
I don't have a type of man that I fantasize about, but the ones I do think about have dark hair and eyes. Pat Riley comes to mind.
I hate my body and have rarely felt satisfied with it. For the first 25 years of my life I was way too thin and dreamed of gaining a few pounds. Now I can't be happy until I loose those five pounds it took me forever to gain. Be careful what you ask for. Sometimes I even want to shower in the dark so I don't have to look at myself. Not normal, I know.

What other thoughts are my favorite? Mountain climbing on red faced peak, wearing a peach silk gown on a fancy night or even wrenching on that sweet, sweet stock car high on the rack in a South Carolina garage. Who knows. Because of these thoughts and the tendency my life has to change at the drop of a hat, I can't give up on my life. I can't silence what is inside me that says, "Well, maybe the old girl has a little gas left in her tank to finish up this fucking race after all." God has much planned for me and has blessed me with a twisted, insecure, wonderful and optimistic soul that will keep on.

When the lights go out, is when I am free to be the person that I am most.

wisconsin gothic

I finally found a film that sees the heartland through the same lens as I do. Not the clear, sharp one that captures flatlands saturated with the season's wheat crop and happy families raising Christian children among 4-H projects, but rather that old and mean heartland. Cold snowstorms, black lace and top hats and the homicidal farmer up the lane spurned by his young love. This is the heartland.

For my taste, "Wisconsin Death Trip" is a poem for the eyes; pictures to match the music of Lonesome Wyatt and Those Poor Bastards and their lyrical damnation. Black and white sequences told the stories of men and women, driven to kill and children who set fires and took lives. Feeling more like a dream, I floated among the ghosts on screen who went mad, but they did not take me with them. Color was reserved for the modern images of today's Black River Falls. Even the town name brings to mind murder shacks and gothic lawlessness with the promise of pristine nature, but a price must be paid for it. A black river that falls.

Delicate death photos of young and old faded on and off, reminding you that no matter what has happened in life, even the meanest of men seems fragile and soft of skin in death. The irony being that an empty cavity void of organs, including heart, the body is stiff and hard as a board. Women, elegantly photographed in curls, and a young girl's death face captured forever by a camera that stopped a moment in time with such clarity, that every eyelash is accounted for.

Lonesome snowfalls that brought such deafening quiet, that they silenced the madness that raged among the town's German, Swedish and Norwegian familes. These were the faces and minds from the heritages that mined the hills of Northern Wisconsin. Saddle the black mare and load the rifle and handgun. The residents of Black River Falls are the mad and murdering type.

train roll on

Another class finished. Another one in progress. One raced attended and now I'm hooked for the rest of the season.

Lucky me. I get to wait on what will sure be another less than stellar grade. I can't help but feel that my luck is going to run out on me and this microbiology class will screw my nursing chances. The worst part is, I have to retake it and get further behind in applying to nursing school. The very worst part is, I fail and don't have the willpower to go on anymore or I can't because I'm not allowed to repeat classes if I want to get into a program.

Now I'm stuck with a bunch of free time on my hands to do all of the things I've been dying to do for the last four months or so and feels all so strange. Photography, sew curtains for the kitchen, clean my house, do some laundry and get back to working out regularly. Leisurely life, I know. I can't help but feel that I deserve it, though.

Today, I've already organized my dresser drawer, cleaned a good chunk of the house and done some handwashing of my clothes. I also contributed to society by watching "You Can't Take It With You" with Jean Arthur and James Stewart which I enjoyed thoroughly. I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that I am subconsciously crushing on Jean Arthur and upon further investigation found that she wasn't anything at all like the characters she played. Another kindred spirit found by the miracles of celluloid.

I know I'm supposed to be studying, but I have a splitting headache and no matter how much I study, I seem to get the same shit grades on every test so who cares?... I'd much rather focus on:

1. Munchos potato chips. Am I the only person that is totally addicted to these things?

2. Eye makeup. Especially all of the new Kat Von D stuff that I got from Sephora. This is so awesome it really deserves its own post.

3. Nascar. Why does it feel like its been ages since I've seen race. I say I'm always going to try and save money and the minute I see I stock car, I might as well throw my wallet out of the window.

4. Netflix Watch Instantly titles. I have an instant queue 160 titles strong. I hope I make it through all of them before they disappear.

5. Waiting to go to Las Vegas again. I start shaking with excitement every time I think of going. Either I have a drinking problem or need to get out more.

That's an even five that will keep me obsessing for the next two weeks or so. Thanks to television and the internet, I have the attention span of whacked out chihuahua so I should be on to new things very soon.