Chillin’ with the Gods.

Every so often, my mom goes and visits the gods. It sounds like a load of bull, but what happens is that Chinese gods are reincarnated into humans so that they can help us if we have problems. They’re freaky, and I believe in them @@. If its anything that revolves in religion that I believe in, its these people.

So my mom went there today and asked why wasn’t I sleeping well and why I looked so bummed out all the time. And its true, I don’t sleep well at all. I’d go to bed around one, and toss and turn until 4:30 at least twice in this past week. The only info she gave them was my birthday . . . and here’s what the reincarnation person said:

She has a friend in another country and she can’t sleep at night because she thinks way too (damn) much. She can’t attend weddings this year because it’ll be bad for her. She needs to relax (my mom says: you need to relax by studying. I don’t know how studying = relaxation, but in momland, its true).

The second part made no sense, really. But how did the person know that I have a friend in another country? @@; I suppose it makes sense in that I shouldn’t attend . . Fernando’s wedding? Huh? x___X; The gods are my homies, but I wish they’d quit being so vague. My mom came home so freaked out because she thought I was attending weddings and parties. . . . By sitting around on the computer all day :B My mom just asked me if I ever felt jealous of why boyfriends and girlfriends got married but I couldn’t . . I don’t think I’ve ever been necessarily jealous . . . I’ve just been at peace (sort of) with it. I suppose that if I’m with Fernando, I’ll never get married. But if that means I get to be with him in the end . . that’ll be okay. Shit, I’m still crossing my fingers in that one day, he’ll refer to me as his girlfriend. Forget marriage B: I did catch myself googling platinum rings yesterday while talking to Andrew xD I’ve decided that I dont’ want a gold ring if anybody’s planning to propose to me. I’m going platinum, silver, tinfoil . . . Gold’s just tacky. On the freight elevator to the 8th floor on Friday, John and I shared an elevator with three men dressed in suits. One guy was panicking and jumpy . . . when he pulled out this gorgeous ring inside of a little box and said he was going to propose to his girlfriend. The two other guys were there for support so he wouldn’t chicken out. And for the entire way up, I blushed and was giggly for them. I want that guy!

But anyway . . . Mom says that the only way this’ll work, and that the person’s babbling wasn’t all bs is by believing. So here I am, believing.

Btw, I need to relax. Anybody willing to relax with me? I’d dig for a cup of chocholate pudding, by the way.