Nightmares on Camp Creek Pkwy.

The last few nights have been odd. My dreams have been of stress, worry, concern, and sadness. More than anything, there has been a sincere feel of disappointment. They have actually be so intense, they take about 20-30 minutes to convince myself that it wasn't real - that the event or occurrence only took place in my head. I wake up searching, longing for resolution. It takes about an hour to shake the feeling entirely. What's wrong?

In one dream, the class I just started teaching, was a team that I was coaching. We were in the locker room during, what must have been halftime of whatever sport we were playing, and they were losing badly. The loss wasn't that bad, teams lose sometimes, I understand that, I even understood it then. My source of disappointment was that my motivation speech was not going over well at all. Some of the students were downright ignoring me, playing games, sleeping, or blatantly being distractive to others. In a fit of frustration, I took one kid's Gameboy and threw it to the ground, which made me all the more disappointed in myself. Then, I realized the speech grew too long, and I was late to a meeting at my job. No, on second thought, it wasn't a dream, it was a conference, in Dallas. Specifically, I was supposed to be at Dallas, Fort Worth, which is the airport in Dallas, but for whatever reason, I was supposed to be driving there. I panicked, and found myself waking up, searching for the alarm clock to see how much time I had to speed to Texas. When I found that it was but 7am, I relaxed and rolled over, thinking that I didn't have to leave until 10am. In reality, it was Saturday, and I didn't have anywhere to be until late afternoon. For the next hour though, I slept lightly, as if I really did have to wake up at 10. By 9:30 though, I realized it was all a dream.

In another dream, I was a kid, having a birthday party, and no one showed up. My sister and I were preparing the party, cooking a bit, cleaning a bit, and then I went to sleep, fully expecting to see loads of friends and family downstairs in the kitchen when I awoke. Only, when I awoke, in reality, I listened downstairs and heard no one. Then I drifted back off to sleep, where my dream self walked downstairs and confirmed the nothing I heard when I woke up just moments before. If you think it's confusing to read, just imagine how confusing it was to experience.

There were several other dreams that had the same effect. I have no idea what's going on. The run-of-the-mill answer is the drastic change in my stress-sleep ratio in the last week. But alas, it may be deeper.

I hope it's not though.

Cinematic Dilemma

So, I've been holding off on seeing Iron Man 2 since it came out because the Mrs. said she wanted to see it too. Yet, at every chance to check it out, I've veered from it because I keep hearing it's not good, or at least not as good as the first one, which she loved. On the other hand, it's seems like the perfect movie to watch when I'm up late by myself (I reserve all overrated movies for late nights alone, so as to appreciate them at a much lower expectancy rate...the last one was From Paris with Love, which was an excellent movie for 3am. I would have hated it had I seen it during hours I actually care about).

So what to do? Do I look past Gigi's wanting to see it, confident that she wouldn't like it and therefore saving her two hours of her life? Or do I wait to watch it with her on a night we just want to get it over with, just to be a man of my word.

Answer: blog about it, knowing she'll read about it later and tell you to go ahead and watch it alone, in exchange for a RomCom later starring Amy Adams, Ryan Gosling, and/or Louis Gossett Jr.

things I write when my fiance is taking a nap

I just spent the last 30 minutes revamping all of my blogsite just now, only to sit here and have nothing to write. Waste of time? Maybe. Waste of energy? Possibly. Waste of...well, there's nothing else then is there. I suppose that's all we ever truly have, time and energy. If you're wasting both of those, then, well, you're wasting everything. Hell, could I have just wasted everything, the entire essence of myself, on this blog?? Nah, that's my problem, I turn things that should be small into huge, live-changing, all-encompassing ordeals. I always make things so transcendental. 30 minutes on blogger has now turned into some mind-blowing, spiritual epiphany about that which we as humans have to offer to all of existence.

though, neither time nor energy are truly ours to give is it?

I mean, if they were, then we would be able to give it freely to others. But we can't.

The more important question at hand here is, as always, why am I writing. I've figured recently that my life has taken a slightly more public turn as of lately, so I'm much more cognizant of what I write. This isn't a bad thing, it just means that I don't write as freely here as I did in the good ol' glory days of my previous blog(s). So, in turn, where I used to write solely for myself, I suppose now I write for both myself and a vague undefined audience, the likes of which have vague and undefined intentions for reading as far as I know. Some of those intentions may even be ill. That's right, ill intentions. As if they have some sort of ill-intent. Reading right now they are. Probably tax collectors. Trying to figure out if I make more than I say I do. Looking for pictures of me riding around in my 4-acre manmade backyard pool on a dolphin, whose fins are dipped in gold, while sipping on margaritas, with torn leaves of hundred-dollar bills and the rim of the glass coated ever so lightly with cocaine. Well, then, ill-intention tax-collector, I know of your intent, and for that reason, I won't upload that particular photo.

Check, and mate.