Okay ... so ... I'm kinda getting sick of how I'm writing this blog ... so I'm going to change things up a bit. I hope you all don't mind. :OD))
Ugh. I'm getting sick of looking at the stack of bills change color. I don't have a job yet ... and that's been slowly grating on my nerves. I don't want the "Repo Man" coming to my house. I barely have anything.
I've finally come to accept the fact ... after nearly a week ... that my old memories are not going to come back to me ... no matter how many flashes I have ... flashes that disappear just as quickly as a sandcastle on the beach as the tide rolls in. I've got to accept that, and move on. Obviously, I had no one in my life who cared enough about me to come looking for me. I'm not quite sure how that makes me feel.
For better or for worse, I'm home now. It does, however, worry me when things like the papergirl actually putting my newspaper on the front porch for a change instead of a the very edge of my property gives me a sense of satisfaction. I think I've been spending too much time at home.
And it's nice that all of the women flocking to Belladonna Cove (Mark II) are interested in making my acquaintance ...
... but I'm not a romance sim ... and have no desire to be a romance sim. I'm just ... lonely.
Frankly ... I'm kinda getting sick of them all inviting themselves in.
It's kind of pathetic when you think about it. Katherine McMillan is a nice lady and all ... but I have no interest in getting to know her any better.
And even though I don't know Valerie Spitzig all that well, I called her up on the phone after bidding Ms. McMillan a not-so-sweet adieu to complain about how I was feeling. She knows I have no real interest in her as well, so she told me to get off my ass (her words, not mine) and get out and meet people that I do have an interest in.
I decided to take her advice. Instead of waiting for some random stranger to call me up and invite me downtown, I invited myself downtown. I would never truly get to know the new neighborhood until I got out there all on my own and just ... immersed myself in everything there was to offer.
I decided to start with the DJ booth. It looked like fun ... and would also make me a little bit of money to boot. And I needed money. Those bills on my desk were always in the back of my mind.
And you know what? I found that it was something that I REALLY enjoyed!
The music! It just filled up an empty place inside of me and gave me a quiver of excitement that I hadn't really felt for anything since ... y'know ... finding myself on an empty beach lot after being abandoned by a taxi.
Granted ... I DO make my fair share of mistakes, like accidentally mixing in a childrens' album singing about the "A, B, C's" in the middle of a hot and heavy dance remix.
I can't tell you how embarrassing that is.
But even though I'm an amateur, the people on the dance floor were enjoying my prowess behind the spin table. Granted, I'm not sure if people who don't really know how to dance liking my spinning truly makes me feel.
After a while, I decided to take a break. I was getting hungry after all. So I had the hostess of the Crypt O' Night Club to seat me at the bar. I had no desire to have some woman sit down at a table with me.
Sitting a bar ... you don't actually have to strike up a conversation with anyone ... least of all those who I have no interest in ... like this young woman who thankfully didn't seem interested in me at all. This evening was for ME ... and no one else.
And a short time later ... the most interesting individual appeared at the club.
She appeared in a flash of green ... lightning bolts and rain her overture.
I wondered if perhaps there was something in the food that was making me see the things that I was very obviously seeing.
Being a knowledge-minded individual, I walked right up to her and introduced myself. She informed me that her name was Frances McCullough - Evil Witch Extraordinaire.
I, of course, immediately asked her if she was part of some elaborate show for the club. She, insulted, set me straight. She was weaver of the Magicks ... the dark arts.
Joseph: Like conjuring money out of thin air?
Joseph: And turning straw into gold?
Frances: That was Rumplestilskin. I use my powers to beat others into submissions if I have a mind to do it.
Joseph: Like a drum?
Frances: I can play people like a finely tuned violin if I so desired to do so. Why? Are you interested in learning my ways?
I, of course, told her I had to give it some thought. While the thought of having such control over the uncontrollable had its appeal ... I didn't know if I wanted to go down that road. Who knew if "CotM" was watching.
I bid Frances a farewell ... with the stipulation that I might try to get in touch with her in the future ... out of curiosity more than anything else, anything sinister on my part. Then I went back into the club and started spinning the vinyl once more.
It was getting quite late (or quite early) by the time I decided it was time to go home. I'd been out pretty much all day.
I was no longer feeling like a prisoner in my own home.
I was exhausted and it was time to turn in. So with my wallet a little fatter than it was when I came, I headed for home ... in the pouring rain left behind by Frances McCullough. It was actually kind of refreshing.
I had the strangest dream that night. I dreamed that I went out to my garden in the buff ... just to spray and weed and water the plants.
Dreams were such interesting things. Who knew what triggered the events that happened in them. I certainly didn't have a clue.