How much of a hippie are you?

The 21-year-old stud texted me for an hour last night. What a trip he is. He’s like a walking, talking Red State. I almost forgot what it’s like to be barely legal, full of conviction and self-righteousness. Like you’re ready to stare down any fool that gets in your way, demanding authority, simply because you’re the hottest thing on the block.

On Facebook, I was notified that he recently became a fan of “beer,” “boobs” and “beef”. Yep. That about sums him up. Its like drinking a shot of Stetson when he’s around, even through the phone. If I was a out-of-control 21-year-old filly like I used to be, this would have been too much testosterone for me to handle.

Things are different now. He can’t womanize me if I manize him first.

Actual Text exchange from last night:

  • So you basically play every sport except soccer and tennis.
  • Yeah, but those aren’t real sports.
  • Somehow I knew you would say that.
  • Well that’s how I was raised.
  • You see honey, that’s why it can never work out between a redneck and a hippie.
  • I’m sorry, I just really hate hippies.
  • Ok Cartman.
  • How much of a hippie are you?

“How much of a hippie are you?”How does one answer that question. I almost dropped my phone and fell off the Wii Fit laughing.

I can’t wait till we meet again. I should get my tarot cards out and give him a reading. Stroke his palm and talk about astrological convergence. Go through every page of the Kama Sutra and gush about meditative tantra. I’m going to weave flowers into his Cowboy hat. He’ll be so in love with hippie-dom he won’t know what do with himself.

Ok, so at least its a good fantasy. Or maybe I’m just playing with redneck fire.

Mental

Something is in the air this week. My co-worker’s grandmother-in-law died on Tuesday night. My other co-worker’s pastor’s house burned down yesterday. My boss got a call from one of the preschool teachers, threatening  to walk out of her classroom due to a little girl screaming and locking herself in the bathroom for over an hour. There’s been an outbreak of Pertussis at two different schools.

My office also received 2 expulsion notices in the last 24 hours. Apparently 2 more are coming in today. 4 kids expelled in a week? That may be peanuts to a big city district, but to a po-dunk town in Colorado, that’s ridiculous. We’ve only had 5 expulsions total this year.

As for me? I’m having intense bouts of déjà vu. I used to only get the feeling once every 6 months or so, but now its starting to happen at least once a month. I’ve had two episodes in this week alone. Once while I was reading a blog! Its probably all in my head, and I’m sure everyone gets déjà vu pretty frequently, but sometimes it totally freaks me out.

Sometimes I will stop talking in the middle of a sentence and ask someone “Did I already tell you this?” Maybe I just have isolated brain damage from my drug-infusedless virtuous years. Yeah, that’s probably it. Déjà vu is just the holes in my brain matter.

So I started doing some research on Déjà vu (which of course begins with wikipedia) and found that some scientists think that its linked to “improper electrical discharge” in the brain. Which makes a lot of sense, because I usually experience a minor jerking spasm right before falling asleep ( a common side-effect).

The hippie/astrology-obessessed/tarot-card-reading side of me thinks that maybe I’m trying to decode some message the universe is showing me, or that I’m remembering dreams. This is why I try to keep a dream journal.

Mostly I think it has to do with memory, and how our memories are stored. Maybe we think we forget certain things, but really its still stored somewhere in our brain until an experience suddenly triggers that “forgotten” memory. Maybe its a combination of dreams, signs, memory and brain damage.

Maybe I’m just mental.

What do you think? Do you have Déjà vu frequently? Do you think its some kind of hippie-ju-ju or more scientific?

Psychological Revelations

Thank you all for your awesome words of comfort. Blogging is such a strange thing. In all physicality, you are completely isolated from the rest of the world; alone with your thoughts, staring at a computer screen. Yet, I feel such a strong sense of connectedness to humanity through these virtual writings. I’ve traveled to Africa, I’ve gone back to college, protested in California, and glimpsed into religion.

Further still, I’ve recieved tangibles from bloggers through the mail. I’ve actually glimpsed fellow single mom bloggers via youtube and flickr. I’ve even broken down the barrier of anonymity and met a kick-ass girl blogger in real life. Blogging’s shrouded Internet presence has become so much more to me, and I wish I could express my gratitude to those who have made it so real and meaningful.

Mr. Hippie Counselor asked me why I like to beat myself up so much. I said “I don’t  like it! Who likes making themselves feel miserable?” Apparently he thinks I do.

I started to think about how much I hate people who blame the world for their problems. How much I don’t want to be like that. Obviously most of that hate comes from dealing with Rooferman’s dysfunctional worldlyattitude. Maybe blaming myself for everything guarantees that I won’t be one of those despicable “Its never my fault” people. Maybe I’m so afraid of being that person, I take it to the opposite extreme. That way I can separate myself from Rooferman and everything he represents.

How Pisces of me to turn myself into a martyr.

Mr. Hippie Counselor asked me if I could forgive myself. Forgive myself for what? For getting involved with someone who told me it was my fault I got pregnant? For staying with that person for another year and a half? For putting my daughter in a situation where her parents were raving lunatics? Those are unforgivable offenses to me. Normal human beings don’t compromise their emotional, mental and physical safety. We are smarter than that (at least that’s what I’ve always believed).

Maybe I think too highly of humanity. Mr. Hippie said he thought I was one of those people who truly believes in the golden rule. Well duh, I’m a Pisces, we are famous for being sensitive, empathetic and getting ourselves hurt because of it.

So here’s the emotional homework that was given to me: Repeat and tap on the pressure points:

I forgive myself for the choices I’ve made.

I deserve to be happy and in a good relationship.

Even thought I’m still angry and afraid, I love myself deeply and completely.

Apparently I’ve acquired a therapist. Maybe our next session we can act out this scene from Good Will Hunting:

Oh, and thanks to Ms. Single Mama, I now know that I’m dealing with a “Kid Man.”

This must be the week for psychological revelations.