But when we wake. It’s all been erased. And so it seems.

27 October, 2010 (12:00) | Dreams

I’ve written before that I’m convinced [at least my] deja vu’s are my past dreams coming true.  Part of my dream blogging is an effort to prove that.  The hard thing is to separate the dreams from things that can possibly happen from the impossible, and then remember the non-remarkable dreams after waking, and the final step is usually the kicker, to blog about it.  It’s easy to blog about the entertaining, far-fetched, or intriguing dreams, but it’s hard to place importance on the dreams, or part of the dreams, where I’m sitting at a table with 3 people and someone says or does something and another person says or does something else in reply.

A lot of my dreams take place at the estate (the house where I grew up).  I would say it’s the most frequent dream location, with Heritage Hills (the school I attended from 3rd grade until 9th grade) being a close second.  Both of these places no longer exist.  I know these will never turn into a deja vu.

A lot of my dreams involve my dad, or me at high school, or just at a younger age.  I know these can never happen.

It’s the dreams that are mundane, or even with people that I don’t know (yet?) that I need to focus on and document.

Sometimes, my dreams are hard to deal with.  Sometimes, I do things that I’d be ashamed to do in real life.  My dreams are in my memory though, so they don’t just fade away.  I remember them, as if I did them.  If the act alone is not bad enough, sometimes the emotions that go along with it make it a nightmare.  In real life, I’ve trained myself how to deal with my emotions.  Possibly as a result, my dreams become emotionally intense, and that emotion does not go away when I wake up…

She’s standing on the landing to the upstairs of my house.  I get down on my knees to be at her height and she laughs at me.  “How old are you, Daddy?”, she says to me as I chase her up a few steps.  “I’m 37”, I reply, knowing I’m lying, but not really able to remember the right answer.  She says she’s older than me.  I look at her analytically to figure out her age.  “No way, you’re like a 2 year old, Jule.”

I know her name.  She’s my daughter.  She looks like Mara Wilson of “Matilda” and Mrs. Doubtfire, only with shorter blonde hair.

As she climbs a few more stairs to the top, she calls out that she’s taller than me now.  I crawled up to her and tackled her to put her under my height again as she laughs.  Kallie’s at the top of the stairs, holding our son.  “I’m going to give Micah a bath.”,  she says.  I reply, “OK, I’ll keep Jule busy.”  As I roll around with Jule, a yellow lab comes up the stairs and joins in on the fun.

And then they’re gone.  Your first reaction is probably, “aww, that’s cute.”  My first reaction, in the middle of the night, is tears.  Actually, as I assume I felt myself waking up, I held Jule closer, starting to cry even in the dream, and that carried through to reality.  This was not a dream to me.  That was my child, I knew her, and I loved her.  I effing loved her, and then she’s gone.  It’s the same exact thing as death.  Even though the cause (what takes them away) is different, the effect is still feeling like someone you love is not there anymore, and never will be.  It’s pretty effed up.

That’s part of the reason I don’t want to talk about kids.  Dreams tend to pull inspiration from your real life and your actual thoughts that day.  I want to reduce the risk of me ever having dreams like that.  A beautiful nightmare?  Perhaps, but a nightmare still.  I’m still getting watery eyes just typing about her.

Hall's Rules of Social Order

Hall’s Rule of Social Order #71

25 October, 2010 (12:00) | Hall's Rules of Social Order

Don’t clap at the end of movies.  No matter how many people are clapping.

Thoughts & Ideas

I’m fat, I’m fat, you know it

22 October, 2010 (12:00) | Thoughts & Ideas

I’ve heard about the airlines that charge you for 2 seats if your body “prevents the use of safety belts or arm rests” or whatever, even famous director Kevin Smith was forced to pay the fees on one airline.

What I’m thinking is that airlines start charging based on BMI, or some other type of health standard.  This could be extremely effective in our nation’s healthy and it’s completely based in sound logic.  The heavier you are, the more fuel they have to burn to move you.

Maybe even throw luggage into the mix.  Charge everything by the pound.  If you and your luggage weigh 300 pounds, it will cost you $300 for every 300 miles you go or something like that.  Even if the ratio is majorly slanted for profit of the airlines, it will be simpler for everyone, get rid of the unfairness of little people paying more and huge people inconveniencing anyone else.

Related:  http://www.cnn.com/2010/TRAVEL/10/14/tall.fliers.rant/index.html?hpt=C2

Poll the People

Don’t be that guy

20 October, 2010 (12:00) | Poll the People

Can a band member wear their own band's t-shirt?

View Results

Spurred from Hall’s Rule of Social Order #103.

The Ramones did it.  Tom Delonge did it.  Some fans say it’s like wearing uniforms in sports.

Some fans think’s it silly that you can wear a sport jersey to a game, but you can’t wear a band’s tshirt to their concert.  Maybe it’s a point of if the fans can’t do it, the band can’t do it either.

Hall's Rules of Social Order

Hall’s Rules of Social Order #255

18 October, 2010 (12:00) | Hall's Rules of Social Order

Placing blame is pointless and anti-progressive.  You’re living in and focusing on the past instead of moving forward.  If someone takes the blame, that’s productive, because it stops people from wanting to place blame. Move on, but learn from what has happened.


no constellation at the belly but they got the machine to make ’em come off, come on.

15 October, 2010 (12:00) | Ramblings

I hate dress socks.  Why do I have to wear them?

Because that’s what society says is normal and acceptable to be considered “dressed up”?  Not good enough.

Because they’re dark?  How about I got a pair of WHITE dress socks in a variety pack.  WTF???  When would I EVER want to wear white dress socks???

With shoes and pants that fit right, there’s like a 0.01% chance that anyone will even ever see your socks.  Why are they so important?  Some people treat their socks with as much attention as they do their ties.  Who cares?

Dress socks are so thin and they provide no cushioning, especially when you’re wearing uncomfortable dress shoes.

One of the biggest problems I have with dress socks is that they are so tight and, when worn correctly, they stretch up on your shin, restricting circulation and airflow so my feet get super sweaty and anxious for freedom.

I walk about 1.2 miles to work and then a big hill back home in the afternoon.  That blows.  When I step in the door, one of the first things I do is rip that crap off my feet.

White, cotton, ankle socks is where the love is.  comfort, air, easy to put on and take off, easy to bleach and keep brilliant white and they last a long time.  Dress socks get worn out in the heels or toes so quickly.

In high school, I had a friend who loved to wear dress socks.  Even played soccer in them.  Chris Tchinsky.  Maybe I need to ask him what the appeal was…