Eric sleeps a lot. It's only natural he that since he does, his dreams are important to him. I listen to his descriptions of his dreams not to interpret (really, it seems a lot of him working things out or his brain amusing itself), but just to allow him to share.
He has lots of dreams about flying. He often flies to help others get things from rooftops. He tries to hold classes to teach others to fly.
"They're just not impressed in the dream. No one cares! Who doesn't want to fly?"
It makes me laugh and is sort of whistful. It reminds me of a sequence of dreams I had in the '90's in which I was a screenwriter. In the dreams I got my script read by one of the most famous writer/directors out there. And he said: "You wrote that? Aw, man. That sucked!"
We're sad clowns, we two. A couple of Pagliaccis. Still not catching a break in our dreams, yet having a blast. Just recording this while I had a minute or two.
It's 2010. I'm going to be 40 this year. I have a lot yet to do.
I have three tests to take before I can apply to the local university. I wish I had taken them sooner, but I waited too late. And the loss of the job in October threw me. I've got a new job now. It took me a month, which is not long to find something in this state in this economy. We're third, I believe, with out unemployment numbers. Third highest percentage unemployed, that is.
I like my new job. I'm working with The Sicilian again, which is fun. But I only see him in passing and on those days he gives me a ride home. I'm grateful for that, though. He's a blast and I'm glad to be near him again.
I'm dreaming and getting my voice back again. I have always admired self-taught people, while thinking that I am not one of those who could teach myself. I'm changing my attitude about that. I'm trying to think of it all as play. I'm wanting to learn guitar. I'm wanting to run. I want to write and draw more regularly. I am doing it. At least more than I had been.
I feel like a teenager again. Awkward, ambling, ambitious. So there. I'm wishing so much healing for those of my friends having a hard time at the beginning of this year -- and there are enough. And I'm wishing more joy than you can hold.
I treated myself to a day out. I went to the Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art on the U of O campus to see an exhibit of Comic Book art. Yeah. I capitalized Comic Book. What of it? Then I moved down the street and saw a small, authentic exhibit of Dia de los Muertos-related art at the Maude Kearns Art Center. No sugar skulls were given away, darn it, but the art was great.
I stopped at a restaurant to kill time while waiting for the bus. Bad habit, I know. But they had a promotion going on whereby they flipped a coin and if it was heads, you get your food free. It was heads! Great day, over all.
While out and about seeing the exhibits, I saw some costumes. I saw a woman dressed in a full-body penguin costume -- the yellow bill protruding from her forehead. She was carrying a purse as daintily as if she were in a ball gown. I saw Alex and a few of his droogies from A Clockwork Orange. I saw a couple of skanky schoolgirls, a French maid, Captain Jack Sparrow, and a fairy.
I always think about participating in Halloween but never do. I figure why work and struggle to come up with a costume to make myself more self-conscious than I already am in my own skin. I figure next year I'll get over it. Maybe I'll go as a gnome or a Hobbit or something. Or something with wings. I want wings! Green insect-type wings or fairy wings or feathery angel-y wings. I'm going to dress up next year. And I'll photos to prove it. Maybe by then I'll even have the camera and camera skills to do it myself.
I keep burning myself on the back of my hand taking the frozen (well, not anymore) pizza out of the oven. I think it's time I stopped stockpiling recipes and start making some of them. It's a sign. Burned into the back of my wrist. And does anyone know if burns do better leaving it free and airy or with a bandage on them? I have a bandage at night because I flip flop and keep tearing skin that's supposed to be healing. I should probably yank it off during the day and let it air out...Dang, that's going to hurt. Enough frozen pizza.
Anyway, I have a job now. I start Monday. This makes me ineligible for the displaced worker grant for school. No worries. I'm going to apply for the teaching program anyway and see what I can get. Finally ready to do some practice exams to prepare for the Praxis. I've interviewed a couple teachers. They said not to panic over it, that it was less difficult than they thought it would be. I'll take their word and study and try to take it next month.
My job brings me back into regular contact with the Sicilian. He told me about the job. It's part time. Only 20 hours a week. But it's enough; pays more than the previous job with fewer hours. It balances out. And I can get back into writing -- good for me if I'm going to try to do NaNoWriMo this year. Still haven't decided yet. I better, eh? I could do both: do the character study as my official NaNo project and just hand write some scenarios for the graphic novel idea.
At any rate, I will be going to an exhibit about superheros this weekend. And I will also go see an exhibity devoted to Dia de los Muertos. Both should be fun. And Monday after work, I get to spend the whole night hanging with girlyboy (a...close friend).
Eric and I both hate the idea of schedules. But we need one. We really do. I'll leave enough wiggle room so that we can rearrange some of it. But that's going to be another goal this weekned: come up with a general weekly schedule. It will help if I get called to mentor by the Big Brothers/Big Sisters group. I'll know what time I have to see the kid I mentor.
I'm excited about the new job. I'm nervous as I have to actually look like a grown up -- or as much as possible. I've only got a couple of outfits that might work. I'll have to rotate until I can get more clothes. I think that four pairs of sweatpants is enough. I'll have to do research on how I can make things look nice on my potato-shaped silhouette. I ain't mad: I got a few folks who like this body. But most clothing stores don't feel the same. It's up to me to do the work and fit it together. Such is life.
Hope everyone is well! I'll keep y'all posted about how the job goes. And about NaNoWriMo.
I have about a week or so before NaNoWriMo. I have two ideas. I was going to take a fictional character with no planning and just write and see where he goes. Or I was going to work on an outline this week for an autobiographical graphic novel a la Harvey Pekar. Just do the text through NaNo and edit it and section it out later.
Those who are going to do it this year, what do you think about doing text for something that will be essentially more visual? Do you think that NaNo would work for that?
I need a new 'official Lulaland photographer' and photographic mentor. The Sicilian is off in married land and I never see him. Rightly so, I guess. But I still miss working with him. And it's interesting to look over photos of yourself in a clinical way. It's also time I got a more recent icon.
Anyone nearby up for the job? It pays in coffee, sincere accolades, and hugs. And maybe gas money. Ha, ha! You know you want to. Help a girl out!
Long answer: I'm conflicted. I can't even conceive of that for myself. Call it self-esteem issues, call it cynicism, whatever. If I'm proven wrong later, I'm proven wrong. I've seen it: my grandparents were married until she died. Don't know the ins and outs or how good it was day-to-day for each of them, but they loved each other. I think that there are those inclined to make the 'choice' of a soulmate and fight to the end to make it work. I believe that the Sicilian loves his new wife and will go through hell before letting anything screw up his marriage -- and before admitting defeat if that something that's screwing it up is within the marriage.
Short answer: No. I'm happy to be proven wrong. And would not be unhappy to be proven right.
As to the next: If they do exist in the way most feel they do, I don't think I've met them. Or those I've met haven't 'grown into' soulmate status. I don't worry about 'the one' who got away. By definition of 'soulmate' they wouldn't have 'gotten away', right? And there's always another 'one' that might fit. No disrespect to those who've chosen to believe such.