About Last Night

my life is really boring. ugh
No matter so last night was the lunar eclipse and I must say the whole of the experience was worth it. I went to bed at around 11:30 after setting my alarm and the coffee maker because I've never been able to stay up all night but if I have an hour or so of sleep that is enough to keep me going for quite awhile. So the alarm sounded at 1:40 and I got out of bed quite energized, I made it to the kitchen the coffee was percolating (good word) and it was a clear and quite comfortable night. I figured I would have the best view of it in my backyard so I plopped down in a chair with my coffee and digital camera and waited. My cats of course came to me at this point meowing and begging for affectation, which kind of ruined the mood of silence in the dark with nothing awake but myself and a spider spinning her web being caught in the slight glimmer and shine of the stars. All the news report said the eclipse would begin around 1:55 and though I didn't have a watch I could see the shadow creeping over the full moon. Not much was happening but I thought the moon affected most things of nature and that my cats should have noticed/paid attention or at least acted a little strange at this event, but then I realized that's not the case. They're not wolves...or women. But nature and the universe has it's own pace. It took me about 3 refills before the moon was even 3/4 covered, though that down time gave me time to think and enjoy the silence; I discovered, around 2 that one of my neighbors may have a drinking problem ; the tab of an aluminum can puncturing the top also punctured the stillness and echoed quite loudly (sure it could have been any kind of can but I like to think that it was someone who only in such quiet moments could have some peace; from family or stress. Or that someone works the graveyard shift and that beer is their only solace and motivation to get up and go to a job they hate.) As the moon begins to get eclipsed more I see it drifting down towards the horizon, ever so slightly but enough for it to creep behind the branches of the tree my grandfather planted 50 some years ago.
At this point, my cats had curled up on and around my feet and I didn't necessarily want to wake them but I needed to find a better vantage. As I go through the house around 2:40, and woke up my mom per her request I figure that the only place I could see it, without wondering too far into the street was in my front yard. I didn't really want to stand that whole time but I figured this was supposed to be amazing and rare and I didn't have a job or any real or compelling reason to wake up in the morning I sucked it up as the Earth cast it's shadow on the moon.
The way I interpreted all the articles was that the moon would be a pretty evident red but the moon ended up looking more like an old worn penny with a slight discoloration in the middle, as if the oils from countless hands had over time affected the copper. Though in my mind I originally thought, for some reason it would be a more vibrant red but I realized seeing a blood red moon would have freaked the shit out of me and that would have been way too evil, even for my Vampiric fantasies. I was happy with a copper moon. It was still gorgeous and as only the last sliver of the moon remained I stared in wonder and just amazing and tried to wonder what others would think of at such a moment, whether one could look at such a thing and not think of deep thoughts, of what the ancestors would have done. But as my mom went inside to sleep, having to wake up in a few hours to go to work herself, my thoughts shifted to the little girls room. I wanted to see the full eclipse and the moon reclaim it's glow and full size but after about another 15 minutes (it was around 3:15 at this point) and no change in the coloration I decided to go inside and call it a night. I checked the internet and was relieved to see that I wouldn't be missing much; the eclipse wouldn't end until well after 4 and there was no way I could deal with staying up that late with no stimulation.
I got into bed and screwed around on the internet for a bit and thought about either writing long forsaken e-mails to distant friends, or actually writing this post, in an attempt to live up to the address of this site and actually deliver a midnight transmission, if not exactly at midnight with that same kind of late night secret talk vibe, where anything said above a hushed tone would feel scandalous. But then I decided to check Facebook and go to sleep. And that is precisely what I would have done if my bladder would have agreed with me. I'm not a coffee drinker really (maybe once every six months) and accidently making a whole pot and refusing to waste any resulted in me having to get out of bed like every half hour. I think I was so caffienated that the only thing I can relate it to is the feeling of being pissed at the end of a long night. Except instead of being sleepy and needing to pass out I was tossing and turning in my mind.
In between those potty breaks though I had pretty vivid dreams, I guess you can still call them dreams even if you are semiconscious but I enjoyed them thoroughly. In one part of my dream I wrote a chapter, in my head of a play between an pentinent person who felt they deserved punishment, for no real crime, and so was welcoming their own death and a reluctant and confused executioner. An axe was involved. But the majority of my dreams involved what I now consider my ultimate job, or dream job if you would pardon the pun, but to be a speech writer for John Edwards and follow him to the White House. I guess my thoughts turned to how good I am at rhetoric, at times in situations that don't even call for it, but at first I dreamed that I guess somehow I came to John's attention and he recruited me and I become integral to his campaign and he gained momentum as my speeches achieved widespread acclaim (insert a montage and snippets of John giving speeches from across the country, with a feeling of hope and pride and uplifting pervading it all as I'm behind the stages with my arms crossed holding a yellow legal pad to my chest and a pencil over my right ear, as my glasses are high on my forehead holding my hair back) But of course as I was achieving this "only in D.C." fame there was the issue of whether my transsexuality would be a negative and an issue that could be used against John. I strategize, in the dream that me being a part of his campaign could actually help him in the LGBT community and that my words would be enough to convince others, and though no one really knows who speechwriters are I offered to resign but he refused. I then am interviewed by the Advocate and I'm sitting in a large black plopable chair, one that's large enough where you can sit crosslegged as I chose to do. Somehow I convinced the interviewer to, at the end of the interview allow me the chance to look over my answers and clarify any statements, because this way I would be more candid and say what came to mind instead of worrying that things would be taken out of context and so participate in a boring talking point memo, in an attempt not to hurt John's campaign or "to be the reason that" as I said in the interview " John is not elected and I take away this country's great hope" and in fact the campaign chair had given me not a list of talking points but rather a list of things not to bring up. But the interview goes really well, I remember talking about how Elizabeth is among the best people I have ever met and talk her up. Then the questioning turns personal and I balk a little because the only person I actually love is doing the Peace Corps and she may not know how I feel about her and that it would be unfair for her to, after two years secluded and without the internet, to return to a maelstrom such as that would cause, without any warning. The interviewer, I'll say it was a woman though I'm not sure, is once again praising the iconic , or at least memorable nature of my speeches and I tell her I'm not happy with them, and that I feel I can and must do better. I tell her that until a speech I was involved in crafting had a place in the American Rhetoric Top 100 that I was not good. "Do you know the 'the streets of heaven are too crowded with angels' speech? Until I write something that good this praise is unwarranted" I said (and I believe when awake as well. I LOVE that speech) Later I am giving a speech at some banquet and it's very self deprecating and full of humour as I'm being honored, though I don't remember the details of that affair besides opening with a joke and maybe talking about the issue of poverty or about the response to Katrina and the failure of government and praising the new day that an Edwards administration would bring.
Then I suppose after I got back into bed my more rational side took over and I figured that when I move up to San Francisco that I could become a speechwriter for Gavin Newsom, though he doesn't need my to gain experience and get my name out there. Which would happen fairly soon in order for me to enter the campaign while he nomination is still in the balance. But it was all just a dream (dammit) And I finally fell to sleep around 5:30, though I was awakened around an hour later and finally got up for good about 20 minutes before I wrote BBE* this morning.
So that's the (overly long) story of how I stayed up to watch the lunar eclipse, drank too much coffee, spent a lot of time going to the bathroom ,couldn't fall asleep, but discovered my vocation and set up a fantasmic plan.
Now the hard part begins. Being awake sucks.

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