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?
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Thursday, November 29, 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Chapter 4: The Wurm Fighter
After a tempestuous 10 minutes of dragging myself out of bed, out of the house, and into the open air, I trod through the drizzle towards the bus stop. From the moment that the plastic panels started to slide upwards, slowly revealing a dark, cloud-ridden landscape, I knew that my trek was going to be difficult: every step I took would have to be calculated yet I could not risk wasting too much time. The first few strides through the dangerous swamp were unerring but my morning drowsiness proved too much. Soon I was hopping and yelping, pulling out my imaginary Excalibur in order to defend myself from the vile creatures of the deep. I slashed and jabbed at and parried blows from the grotesque creatures that surrounded me. I slowly developed a rhythmic pace as I plodded along the path towards my destination. As the rhythm grew, my heart beat quickened and soon I was running, leaving all of the blood-thirsty predators in my dust. In a flash, I took the final step to my goal with time to spare.
I may not have actually dueled with the countless worms whom I encountered on my way to the bus stop, but this is the true recounting of what was going on through my mind as I rampantly stumbled along the sidewalk towards my destination. What actually happened was: I stepped outside of my garage door, moaned realizing the quest that I was about to embark upon, and then scampered to the bus stop hoping that I could hold in my shrieks of terror as I jumped over row upon row of worm. But, the part where I got to the bus stop without a scratch was true; I did not step on a single worm! What a success.
Occasionally I allow myself to daydream about completely fantastical worlds such as this one. I imagine what it would be like trying to live a normal life within a world filled with gross creatures and dangerous landscapes -- I guess everyone has their own way of entertaining themselves. Some of you might not respect my Wurm-filled fantasies but I, the top Wurm Fighter, do not need your support because I can successfully make it to my bus stop without your help.
P.S. To those of you who can empathize with my situation, fight on fellow Wurm Fighters, fight on.
P.P.S. A Wurm is a worm-like monster popularized by gamers/nerds/whatever, you get my drift.
I may not have actually dueled with the countless worms whom I encountered on my way to the bus stop, but this is the true recounting of what was going on through my mind as I rampantly stumbled along the sidewalk towards my destination. What actually happened was: I stepped outside of my garage door, moaned realizing the quest that I was about to embark upon, and then scampered to the bus stop hoping that I could hold in my shrieks of terror as I jumped over row upon row of worm. But, the part where I got to the bus stop without a scratch was true; I did not step on a single worm! What a success.
Occasionally I allow myself to daydream about completely fantastical worlds such as this one. I imagine what it would be like trying to live a normal life within a world filled with gross creatures and dangerous landscapes -- I guess everyone has their own way of entertaining themselves. Some of you might not respect my Wurm-filled fantasies but I, the top Wurm Fighter, do not need your support because I can successfully make it to my bus stop without your help.
P.S. To those of you who can empathize with my situation, fight on fellow Wurm Fighters, fight on.
P.P.S. A Wurm is a worm-like monster popularized by gamers/nerds/whatever, you get my drift.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Chapter 3: Deep Slumber
During these freezing months, I cry myself to sleep knowing that, come the next morning, I will be enveloped by crushing waves of cold. It is always a gruesome war when I am fighting the urge to stay under the blanket which has so kindly collected my warmth. After I finally fling away the soft, warm embrace of my sherbert colored blanket, I am showered with shivers and goosebumps.
For me, this is daily battle with nature is unarguably the least appealing aspect of winter which often leads me to wonder, how can I solve this consistent problem? The answer: hibernation. Bears must lead happy lives when they spend one fourth of the year sleeping. They never feel the pain of fighting off the morning chills because by the time they wake up, the cold will have been replaced by the sweet morning of spring.
Every so often I imagine what my life would be like as bear. I would probably be a grizzly bear for no specific reason; I like the word "grizzly." My yearly life would be rather simple. During the non-hibernation seasons, I would wake up in early in the morning and spend the whole day swimming in the river and hunting for fish. I would scowl at the occasional hikers who happened to cross my path. Then at nightfall, I would return to my favorite resting spot and fall into a slumber. It seems like such an appreciably simple life.
After doing some research, I found out that bears essentially spend their whole summer eating in order to store fat to survive through their hibernation. In addition to sleeping for a few whole months, they spend the rest of their lives just eating... How much better can it get?
So if one winter I just disappear, you will know where I have gone: somewhere warm to go into a deep slumber.
For me, this is daily battle with nature is unarguably the least appealing aspect of winter which often leads me to wonder, how can I solve this consistent problem? The answer: hibernation. Bears must lead happy lives when they spend one fourth of the year sleeping. They never feel the pain of fighting off the morning chills because by the time they wake up, the cold will have been replaced by the sweet morning of spring.
Every so often I imagine what my life would be like as bear. I would probably be a grizzly bear for no specific reason; I like the word "grizzly." My yearly life would be rather simple. During the non-hibernation seasons, I would wake up in early in the morning and spend the whole day swimming in the river and hunting for fish. I would scowl at the occasional hikers who happened to cross my path. Then at nightfall, I would return to my favorite resting spot and fall into a slumber. It seems like such an appreciably simple life.
After doing some research, I found out that bears essentially spend their whole summer eating in order to store fat to survive through their hibernation. In addition to sleeping for a few whole months, they spend the rest of their lives just eating... How much better can it get?
So if one winter I just disappear, you will know where I have gone: somewhere warm to go into a deep slumber.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Chapter 1: Trick or Treat... Or Not
In the recent onslaught of cozily chilly weather, my daydreams have acquired a unique autumnal quality. Even though it is one month away, Halloween has been the predominant theme of my most current musings thanks to the internet being abuzz about the inevitable mob of Bane's who will be swarming neighborhoods all around the United States in search of drops of sugar on October 31, 2012.
On multiple counts I have considered dressing up as the macho evil villain from the most recent Batman movie for Halloween, but I wind up disheartened every time I relay the series of events that would occur were I to dress as a masked man of darkness. The most recent time when I drifted into a reverie in which I adopted the personality of Batman's nemesis, I ended up embarrassed and jaded. As I watched myself through my mind's eye trudging through halls from class to class dressed as a beefed up villain, my brain decided it was appropriate to overlay a laugh track and to include images of pointed fingers and smirking faces. Just because I lack bulging arms in the real world doesn't mean that I can't dream about it!
In order to escape my judgmental side, I turned my mind towards Halloween costumes more suitable for my physical state. I daydreamed about dressing up as a pumpkin, a ghost, and a pirate and subsequently realized that I have no creative impulse whatsoever. So I have reached an impasse: my ego will not let me be unoriginal simply because I cannot pull it off, yet I do not have the capacity to develop a unique costume suitable for one such as myself.
For this reason, I believe I shall continue the tradition of staying untrue to my promise of participating in Halloween. As in past years, I will shut the blinds, turn off the lights, hide out in my room, and ignore the incessant ringing of the doorbell while I raid dungeons and defeat goblins in a online fantasy world.
Or perhaps by some twist of fate, my reveries will lead me to the perfect Halloween costume. I still have a month, so in the mean time I will be keeping my fingers crossed.
On multiple counts I have considered dressing up as the macho evil villain from the most recent Batman movie for Halloween, but I wind up disheartened every time I relay the series of events that would occur were I to dress as a masked man of darkness. The most recent time when I drifted into a reverie in which I adopted the personality of Batman's nemesis, I ended up embarrassed and jaded. As I watched myself through my mind's eye trudging through halls from class to class dressed as a beefed up villain, my brain decided it was appropriate to overlay a laugh track and to include images of pointed fingers and smirking faces. Just because I lack bulging arms in the real world doesn't mean that I can't dream about it!
In order to escape my judgmental side, I turned my mind towards Halloween costumes more suitable for my physical state. I daydreamed about dressing up as a pumpkin, a ghost, and a pirate and subsequently realized that I have no creative impulse whatsoever. So I have reached an impasse: my ego will not let me be unoriginal simply because I cannot pull it off, yet I do not have the capacity to develop a unique costume suitable for one such as myself.
For this reason, I believe I shall continue the tradition of staying untrue to my promise of participating in Halloween. As in past years, I will shut the blinds, turn off the lights, hide out in my room, and ignore the incessant ringing of the doorbell while I raid dungeons and defeat goblins in a online fantasy world.
Or perhaps by some twist of fate, my reveries will lead me to the perfect Halloween costume. I still have a month, so in the mean time I will be keeping my fingers crossed.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Chapter 0: David The Hero
As a boy of sluggish mind and lazy body, daydreaming is the sole impetus of my existence. Who's to judge me for this? Everyone has some dream in which they indulge whenever they unfetter their minds from the grasps of reality.
But why do people daydream? I believe that it is mostly for that nice feeling that blocks out the sad truths of my imperfections. It is also a source of inspiration: daydreaming provides the confidence that I need to achieve my goals. If I had not spent the summers of my childhood dreaming about the massive success I would achieve if I were to follow in my sister's footsteps and attend University Laboratory High School, then I would not be here writing this blog post. Instead, I would probably be playing a video game. My point falls short after this because it is likely that once I finish this post, I will immerse myself in a fantasy world where anonymous people with similar interests gather to fight each other with fancy 8-bit pixels. I might not have achieved massive success yet, but perhaps if I continue to trust my dreams, someday I will find myself in the midst of fame and glory.
The main reason why daydreaming was chosen as the core of this introductory post is so that I could inform the world of my aspirations. My claim to fame will be hard-fought, but one day, every soul will have been touched by my presence. I will have saved lives, suppressed demonic souls, and discovered new worlds. And as I stand at the pinnacle of a mound of a thousand demon's bones with my blood-stained cape flaring out behind me, I shall shout to the world, "Never fear, for David is here to protect you!"
What do you daydream about?
But why do people daydream? I believe that it is mostly for that nice feeling that blocks out the sad truths of my imperfections. It is also a source of inspiration: daydreaming provides the confidence that I need to achieve my goals. If I had not spent the summers of my childhood dreaming about the massive success I would achieve if I were to follow in my sister's footsteps and attend University Laboratory High School, then I would not be here writing this blog post. Instead, I would probably be playing a video game. My point falls short after this because it is likely that once I finish this post, I will immerse myself in a fantasy world where anonymous people with similar interests gather to fight each other with fancy 8-bit pixels. I might not have achieved massive success yet, but perhaps if I continue to trust my dreams, someday I will find myself in the midst of fame and glory.
The main reason why daydreaming was chosen as the core of this introductory post is so that I could inform the world of my aspirations. My claim to fame will be hard-fought, but one day, every soul will have been touched by my presence. I will have saved lives, suppressed demonic souls, and discovered new worlds. And as I stand at the pinnacle of a mound of a thousand demon's bones with my blood-stained cape flaring out behind me, I shall shout to the world, "Never fear, for David is here to protect you!"
What do you daydream about?
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