Chapter 2: The Lost Chapter

I usually avoid caring about things since caring usually leads to disappointment and pain. But I always get frustrated when I can't recount a recent dream. The void that is left behind by a lost dream is hard to fill and I can't help but care about the loss of a potentially great story.

I have tried various ways in order to prevent this memory loss: talking to myself about the dream, keeping a dream journal. None of these solutions were effective since I always seemed to forget the dream as soon as I let my mind wander after waking up. There goes the $5 I spent on buying a nicely-bound journal. I still haven't found a use for that ex-dream journal.

On the occasions when I do happen to retain a clear memory of a dream, it usually makes no sense. One of the strangest dreams that I remember was of me running away from evil unicorn-bearing plants down my neighborhood street. Another was of my seeking of my father: I wandered around an unfamiliar city which had a volcano at the center. I eventually found a maze of office cubicles on the side of the road after riding around in a taxi for a few hours but I woke up right after I stepped out of the yellow vehicle.

There is only one dream which I am happy that I have remembered (not that I don't value the two previously mentioned dreams... this one just makes more sense). It was about a prince who was extremely well practiced in woodworking and something led to another and something something princess. After a few years, my memory has become muddled which is rather sad: the one dream I value most out of the three I remember is the one I remember the least. Furthermore, while I was in my dream, I even told myself that this would make a great plot for a story and that I must remember it. Too bad I didn't.

My life. Forgetting dreams and such.

The one bright light in these dream voids represents the glimmer of hope, not just of having more, better dreams, but of knowing that there is more out there to discover. Becoming an inspiring novelist is a silly dream of mine. Whenever I seriously consider it, I remind myself that writing an original novel is extremely difficult -- so many stories have been written so what else is there to write?

The dreams that I have lost include many potential stories. Even though they are lost, their existence, however transient, is evidence of the hope for continuing originality in the world of novel-writing. So amidst the feelings of unhappiness after forgetting a grand dream, there is a small inkling of hope for better dreams in the future.

On a sort-of-random-but-not-really note, this, if you have not noticed, is Chapter 2 of my series of pointless blog posts even though it should be 6... or 7? It was recently pointed out to me that I had mis-titled my posts and left out the second chapter. I initially felt self-loathing for not having noticed this mishap earlier but eventually I thought of a great way to mend this error. I would write a blog post about the advantages of forgetting things! That way I could make it seem like this blog post was extremely well planned like I purposely forgot to make a Chapter 2 in order to write about forgetting things later on.

There's usually a silver lining!

Generally, I make sure that the few things that I do care about in this world always have at least some good outcome no matter how badly things turn out. Like dreams: even when you forget them, there's always some positive way to look at them; and blogs: even when you screw up you can always find a way to fix everything.

It's holiday season but it's not even cold. Don't drink too much eggnog. What presents are you expecting for this holiday season?

Chapter 6: Aches and Pains

With the chill that has come this Fall comes pounds of fat which will keep me warm through the snow and the sleet in the next few months. I have not thought much of this growth in girth but at times when I glimpse at my bag of bones, I will stop in a fit of pique and shout out loud that it is time to lose some weight.

In fact, in my dreams I will at times stand in a blank, black space because my legs will not move with so much weight on them.

Oh well, I guess I just need to work out more...

I do not oft have such dreams but I find that they do well to spur me to jog. In fact, one night last week, I ran five miles after one of the dreams made me think that I had lost my might to run. It was a huge load off when I took the last step of my run and was able to prove wrong what I had dreamed.

It was too bad that for the next few days I would groan if I so much as poked my thighs or calves. At least the dreams stopped.

As a side note, is it just me or does it feel nice to feel sore? It might sound weird but it feels great to have your sore flesh punched. Wow. That is weird.

I pray that the five miles were able to cut off at least a small piece of the lard that got stuck to my gut from the feast of the third week of this month.

Were the sore legs worth the run? Yes!

I would do it once more in a heart beat if not for the weight loss then for the chance to pound my sore legs.

Chapter 5: Life Gave Me Lemons

For some reason, this quarter, I managed to rack up some tardy service. It was really surprising that this year my school decided draw upon their resources in the form of Me. Even though I was bitter that some of my teachers secretly tallied my occasional tardiness, I must give credit to this unjust system for introducing me to one of the most enjoyable parts of my day.

At first, tardy service seemed like a burden and I was constantly plotting how I could somehow manage to serve my 5 hours without actually serving my 5 hours. When I was offered choices for how I could waste 5 hours, I was fairly unimpressed:

Cleaning microwaves? No.
Dusting shelves? Nope.
Handling school funds? I wish (just kidding, I wouldn't steal from my precious educators).

But when I noticed the opportunity to write birthday cards to alumni, I was mildly interested. What kind of tardy service was that? It seemed weird and I was immediately discouraged by my overseer because she believed that I would not have even been able to fulfill a single hour with such a petty service. But when I started doing my service, I found it quite entertaining.

The first few birthday cards took me a while because they had to be perfect but as soon as I got into the flow of it, I was cruising. It turns out, tardy service is a great opportunity to reflect upon life and even better, daydream. I mostly spent my time thinking, "Hey, this dude is named Mr. Bird. I wonder if he runs a pet shop that specializes in parrots." Or, "Hey, she has a Ph.D. Maybe if I write an extremely flattering note, she'll seek me out and offer me an internship." Or, "Hey, this guy lives in Japan. Could I get him to invite me over there for a vacation?"

And even though all of these things are improbable, it's still fun to think about the people behind the list of names, making up personae for each of them.

The moral of this story is: tardy service sucks; pick something fun to do.