April 2006

4/6/06
raddidge made a suggestion.

raddidge says, "You should also say "Dorkmeier" on your site. That will surely attract Jaybird's attention."

mom

So when I got home, I called home. Mom told me about how she found a new job and it's only a mile away from the house. Basically it's all about who you know when it comes to hunting down employment. Since I recently completed The Brief History of the Dead, I tried to tell her about the book and how it's about all the people one gets to know in life. She turned it around into a discussion about the structure of the afterlife along with her bold assertation that she is telepathic.

Oh do go on.

Mom says that the skin is the largest organ and it's very sensitive so it must be picking up subtle cues and messages which are telepathy. Also there are auras. She related a few anecdotes about sharing the same dreams as my father. The jury's still out as to whether it's due to physical proximity or neural transmissions or auras. I thought it was sweet.

I'm happy and feeling less stressed with my life and that I can ramp down my anxiety about how other people are doing with their lives.

In Yer Dreams

Recently I had a rough night. The idea of going back to New Jersey had suddenly become foreign along with an increasing feeling of alienation from the various folks of the Garden State who once were my friends. The trite "You can never go home again" line went through my head and seemed to ring true. Hence the confusion with this dream.

I was one of the residents of Harlock House. Harlock House, not House Harkonnen as I erroneously misremembered, is populated by several people who are gamers and part of anime fandom. No one seemed to notice me or mind my presence and I was happy enough having my alone time. About halfway through the dream, I remembered that I was no longer welcome in New Jersey or, especially, among these people.

"Why the fuck am I here?" got several confused stares from my roommates. Not that they suddenly realized that I was the rancid mayonnaise in their chocolate cake but more that I would say such a thing.

That's when I noticed it was ten minutes to eight a.m. and I panicked because I was a red cunthair away from being late for work. Something distracted me and by the time I was able to get back on track I figured I'd be late. Not so fast, the clock said it was 7:45! Each time I'd get distracted by something menial and the panic would rise only to fall when I saw it was still fifteen minutes to eight. Heck I even decided that I was going to skip work altogether and through an unremembered series of events I made it to work with a few minutes to spare after clocking in.

In retrospect, I think most of the distractions were Spot-related in nature.