dresser

The top of my dresser is currently holding up a box of Big League Chew bubble gum, a Wolverine shoe-box containing old Star Wars toys distributed by Taco Bell, a cardboard box claiming 'The Best Computer Deals Anywhere. Anytime.' There's also an old 45 rpm vinyl recording of Knick-Knack-Patty-Whack, a half read book The Windup Bird Chronicles, David Sedaris' book Naked (which I should point out has nothing to do with nudity). That is sitting next my Bible, which is on top of my design portfolio book. There's also a rolled up poster, and a pair of hair sheers.

dreaming

Lately, I've had very strange, very detailed dreams on a regular basis. I'm pretty happy about this. Usually I don't even remember dreams at all.

In the last bit of sleep before I got out of bed this morning, I dreamt that I was on a family vacation in what seemed to be a Central American country. My family and a few other people that I don't remember were staying in a ramshackle (I didn't think I'd ever get a chance to use that word) cottage with a disused swimming pool and large amounts of vegetation. There were peasants living in a make shift camp site towards the back of the property. My Parents were a little nervous about them staying back there, but didn't do anything about it. Until, some items from our luggage came up missing. Then my dad and a few other men went back to confront them about it. They denied it and an older matronly woman dropped the laundry she was doing as she chattered in terror about being deported.

dog pound

While I was driving through the country this weekend I drove past a sign with a very official looking law enforcement star and large san-serif letters spelling 'Dog Pound.' It could easily have been a sign for a state penitentiary. I imagined the rough and scrubby looking dogs, and what sorts of laws they would have broken. One was playing a harmonica, as a few others planned an escape while smoking cigarettes. I'm sure that at some point during the escape, one of the dogs would have bitten a hole out of a bumbling overweight guard's uniform pants to reveal his polka-dotted boxer shorts.

you in the blue

A few years ago I was walking from class to my car, which was parked on an off-campus lot. As I crossed the lot, I heard a girl's voice yell out, 'hey you in the blue; you look good.' I felt pretty good when I noticed that I was the only one around wearing blue. I looked around but I couldn't find my admirer. So I figured that she must have been shy and shouted from a car window. I was sure the compliment was no less sincere, and went about my business confident that I looked good.

The next week, while leaving the same class, I heard the same voice yell out again. This time she was asking me for a cigarette. I was closer to the edge of the lot this time, and I could see the girl on the other side of a chain–link fence. She wasn't a student, or at least not a college student. She was in the fenced–in backyard of a halfway house for run–aways and troubled teenagers. I told her that I didn't smoke and drove away much less confident than I had the week before.

woody allen

It seems pretty obvious that I'm not going to stick to this everyday, so I'll just go ahead and admit that I'm disappointed in myself.

I just woke up from a strange dream. I was drivig cross-country and stopped at a rest stop. I ran into Woody Allen. He told me that he was tired and just needed to sit and listen to music for a while, so he came and sat in my car and we listened to some music as he told me about his problems. It didn't last very long before I woke up. That's kind of wierd.

missed

It looks like I missed my first day on the job. I'm begining to question myself. Can I really trust myself to keep up with this? Probably not, since I'm getting up to go make dinner righ now, and I haven't written anything worthwhile.

commitment

My brain feels dull, so I'm assigning myself to a bit of reading and writing. I'm going to pick up a book tonight about math, so I'll be combining the third 'R' which happens to start with an 'A.' And I'm commiting to write something (most likely an entry here) each day.

I feel like I have a mistaken reputation of being clever, or maybe even that is in my mind. Either way, I certainly don't live up to what I imagine as being my potential, or what some would assume from the ocasional sarcastic whit that might make it's way from my mouth. I don't talk much, but that's no longer because of any amount of shyness. I'm bold enough to say what I think. It's just that the verbs that arrange in my mouth don't usually acurately portray my thoughts well enough to pass quality control; at least until after the appropriate moment has passed. I can convey my thoughts easier while I'm writing and I have the time to buff every sentence. My plan is to write often enough to sharpen my verbal skills to the point that I might one day hold up my end of a conversation.

love for a quarter

About an hour ago I left the house to go grocery shopping. As I left my door a man asked me for a quarter. Normally I'd just keep walking, but I did have a quarter in my pocket, and since he'd guessed it I felt obliged to throw it to him. After he picked it up he thanked me extaticly. I tried to cross the street, but cars were zooming passed. He walked over to me as I was unable to escape. He started to explain his situation, about his crack-addicted daughter who steals money from him. I said I was sorry to hear it and looked for a hole in traffic. I expected him to ask for more money before I could escape, but he didn't; he just shook my hand and told me that he didn't like me, he loved me. As I crossed the road and walked away he yelled at me to 'stay strong, man, I mean it, stay strong.' I pumped my fist in the air as a sign of my strength and promised him that I would.