About My New Old Dreams

I've always had vivid dreams. Anyone who's known me for more than five years knows that I have vivid dreams. They used to wear me out, but now they serve to do little but remind me of different times. They used to make me think about deeper meanings of things, but now they clarify the idea that things are only as deep as we want to make them.

Things are just more pleasant now. I still dream of the same things. I rarely have a dream I haven't had before. They usually involve the strife involved with teenage love or lust or obsession or some such -- you know, the ones with Marcia doing an interpretive dance of Jewel's "Hands" the same night Celia gave some speech to the 8th grade class about how friends are so important to her and never mentioned my name once. Or better yet, the ones where I take two girls to a formal dance and never pay attention to them as I watch Celia's every move. Sometimes I still have the ones about Heather's cold rejection in the aftermath of our relationship with the bleak, grey skies above. I have scattered dreams from college years, too, but they're less intense. I used to be so tired after these dreams.

The cool thing is that in each of these dreams I have a companion now. Maybe that's what makes everything more pleasant. Lauren's just a spectator, too -- she never interacts with anyone. She just sits there, next to me, watching my every social disaster. I don't think it's that deep. When I think of "me," I think of two people now. Maybe that's what love really is: when you get to the point that you don't separate yourself from that other person. Well, maybe that's what love really is to me.

I still experience the negative emotions in the dreams, but when I wake up I'm not stressed about it. It's fascinating to me.

I'll try explaining it within the context of one of the dreams when I'm less dead-tired. I have to drive to Hutto tomorrow. Woohoo!

Oh, it's my birthday. Weird.

Also, speaking of nostalgic dreams, I'm finally getting serious about this TV pilot. What's that? You don't know about that because I never tell anyone anything? Silly me.



"Inner City Pressure"
Flight of the Conchords

Serious Business, People

I am quite perplexed that, despite seeing the likes of the Grape Lady and the Falling Model Video, I find Serious Cat to be the funniest thing on the Internet.

I just can't stop laughing at it. He's been around forever, sure, but it's only been recently that I've become obsessed with his little, stone-cold serious face.

Anyway, Matt and Jeremy are coming down this weekend. It might be a laugh riot. We're seeing Goldfinger at Master Pancake Theater on Saturday night. That ought to be excellent. Hopefully I'll get to ride that shit-terrible elevator at Alamo. Remember that, Shelley? Remember yelling down at Lauren and I as we went .000000001 feet per minute down that long shaft? I do. I remember.

I'm making a little headway on the job front. I'm applying to a marketing position at Accenture's Austin office. Yep. Accenture. I'm OK with it because I'd be working in a department my dad and his cohorts have/had nothing to do with -- but yeah I'd probably have some pretty good references.

Not holding my breath, though. I'm meeting with a woman next week that should be able to help me narrow my search a bit. Every little bit helps, I guess.

OK, I did forget about this. Not as good as Serious Cat, but it's pretty good.

Camp Rock is pretty bad so far. Yesssssss.



"Breakin"
The Music

Cheelitism

I'm hoping to have some photos of the new place up (either here or on Facebook) sometime tomorrow. I ate dinner at 11:30pm tonight. Why? Don't know.

But yeah, fuck living somewhere that doesn't have a Whole Foods or Central Market less than an hour away. I don't know how I lived in Sherman for five years. Call me an elitist, but there's something about paying $9 for a pound of cheese that makes me feel better about the world.

Maybe I'm just a cheese elitist. A cheelitist?

Yep, a cheelitist.

I need to call Charles and Kelsey this week to do something. This past weekend was hell of hectic. Glad Gillian's alright, for sure. Glad about our wedding gifts. What? I mean everyone should get married once for the gifts. Seriously. Even if you're totally against the institution or something like that. Just try it. I had no idea what I was getting into, but it's undeniably nice. I hope I'm half as generous with love and support (both tangible and otherwise) as everyone's been so far.



"Cold Girl Fever"
The National

Best Laid Floorplans

It's been asked of me for a while, so I'm updating. I tried sleeping, but I couldn't. Doesn't happen to me often but sometimes I don't feel like laying around until I feel like falling asleep. So, here I am, up and about.

I've been playing with the layout editor on Triangle's website. I think I've come up with two decent ideas. OOH, I think I just figured out how to attach the files. Here goes nothing...

I'm pretty sure that'll look like utter shite, but what do I care? I'm up way too late, anyway.

The big difference between the two is the living room. Which do you envision more? Answer me, dammit!

Jeremy's place is pretty wicked. I would bet a large sum of money that Triangle and Trinity Bluff are owned by the same people. I should investigate. Had a nice little workout from Jeremy's place to Mi Cocina. German engineering is fucking dumb as far as I can tell looking at the rolling disaster that is my wheelchair. Christ.

Ratatouille actually made me extremely happy after seeing it for the second time. It made me want to open a bistro in Paris, for sure. That reminds me, somewhat tangentially, that I need to make reservations for the honeymoon. Harlem's famous chicken and waffles won't reserve themselves, right? Right!?

Also, watch The Wicker Man at least four times before you die. It's so fucking worth it. Funniest movie I've ever seen -- I'm not even exaggerating. Not one bit.

Am I crazy or is Forgetting Sarah Marshall one of the better movies you've seen in a long, long time? It drills into your brain in the nicest way.

And! Eagle vs. Shark is about as bad as you thought it would be. That girl isn't as hideous as the trailer made her look (this is years ago, mind you, in case you have no fucking idea what I'm talking about), but it is about as unfunny and painfully "indie" as it looked in the trailer. It's like someone saw Me, You, and Everyone We Know and thought, "Gee, let's just make the characters totally unsympathetic and give them hilarious Kiwi accents." AND, nothing about trading poop back and forth (it's worth it for that scene alone, seriously -- Me, You, and Everyone We Know, that is).

That reminds me, in Flight of the Conchords they make reference to Bret saying his name like "Brit," but as far as I remember no joke has been make about how Jemaine's name is "Jemaine" and not "Jermaine."

Right? That seems like something to call attention to. Does that make me sound totally uncultured and daft? Is "Jemaine" a super common name in Kiwitown?

By the way, Jermaine Jackson's son is named Jermajesty. If you didn't know that, you're welcome.

Looking forward to the wedding and seeing everyone. Love to all.



"Just Another"
Pete Yorn