clare
Friday, August 29, 2003
 
will someone remind me again why idealism is necessarily a bad thing? the book excerpt ann posted yesterday seems idealistic, but, as she says, it's hopeful. we need hope, especially in these particularly dense times.

my need for hope is why, perhaps, i'll begin to self-identify as an idealist. gives me a forward-looking place, some idea of where *i* think we should be headed. i believe it's important to be an idealist--but perhaps tempered with a solid sense of pragmatism. a pragmatic idealist. i don't really believe that that's a contradiction.

i like feminist science fiction because, in many cases, it offers an alternative vision of the future--utopian, maybe, but better than the distopia exhibited in other places (like Minority Report).

something to work towards, anyway. it's good to have an idea of an endpoint. after all, how can you formulate a plan without having some idea of where it's leading?

in other news, i'm thinking of getting a tattoo of a tomato on my right shoulder. it's an idea, i admit, that i filched from Tomato Nation. i think i'll need to do some reading up on the lore around tomatoes before i decide to do it, though. an obsession with the fruit as a food might not be enough to make me actually go under the needle.

anyone have any good photos of tomatoes lying around?
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Thursday, August 28, 2003
 
randomness: my favorite documentaries



more to come...
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Tuesday, August 26, 2003
 
although i don't agree with 100% of what she says, check out a Queer Girl's Top 10 Gay Myths.

here are a couple of my own:

1. all gay men, lesbians, bi folk, and trans folk are after YOU
i really loathe the assumption that often greets me when i'm having a conversation with a newly-met straight woman. look, i have NO interest in you! so don't flatter yourself. i shouldn't *have* to make it clear that i have a partner. and i could care less whether you're straight or gay--i don't plan on making a pass at you. so no need to make it very very clear to me: "i mean, i'm STRAIGHT, but i have this gay friend..."

2. LGBTQs look like...
watch yourself. we're all around you, and we don't all wear our hair pink and spiked and our necks collared and spiked. some of us do, though. so the next time you tell your locker-room gay jokes in the... locker room..., remember that ALL gay folks are JACKED. well, not really.

3. LGBTQs want to eliminate the institution of marriage, the nuclear family, so-called "free trade," abortion restrictions, the death penalty, gender, capitalism, multinational corporations, and gun ownership.
nope. that's just me.

4. LGBTQs are all sinners
wait a minute... aren't we all?

5. LGBTQs are getting lots and lots of prime-time TV slots these days
correction: white, wealthy, gay men are getting *more* TV time... but, aside from Ellen, where are the lesbians? better yet, where are the black lesbians? where are the gay latinos? you see where i'm going here...
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if i had $725,000, i'd buy the world's only Frank Lloyd Wright-designed gas station.

why do i feel my roots so strongly planted halfway across the continent? it's not like i grew up there or have spent any significant time there in four years or so. i've lived in a forgotten region of massachusetts for most of my life, and i've lived in maine for most of the rest of my life... so why my parents' home?

a year or so ago, i had the crazy idea that we could and would up and move out to duluth, minnesota, a great little city with an even smaller, more isolated job market than the one in which i am currently job-hunting. i ran it past melanie, who was ambivalent at best, and i started making plans. as you can see, they didn't exactly... work out. i'm big on plans, less big on follow-through, as i suspect most people are.

but why MN--and why that particular region of the land of 10,000+ lakes?

the part of dad's childhood home that hadn't already been lopped off was recently sold to some anonymous person, who further divided the land. i wonder what further changes will occur. that's a piece of his past now gone, but i guess that's the way it goes. and it goes.

i want to go back--not just to visit, but to live. i want to find out what it is about that place that is planted so firmly in the nether regions of what is, for lack of a better or more cynical term, my soul. is it my own happy childhood? is it some innate longing to return to places more peaceful, more worry-free in uncertain times? is it a need to escape? a need to feel my feet on the same ground pounded by the feet of a similarly-blooded finnish farmer? what is it?

a quote from an article in the Star Tribune about the gas station in Cloquet, one town over from dad's "official" home town:

"'Somebody would have to have an idea what they would do with it,' [John McKinney, son of the current owner] said. 'If this were downtown Minneapolis, someone would have an idea that is trendy. But this is Cloquet.'"
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Monday, August 25, 2003
 
...i could be wrong, but i believe John Geoghan wasn't gay.

so why does it seem to make sense to the major news sources i've been reading that his killer was homophobic, racist, and few other characteristics of the radical right wing?

last time i checked, gay men were no more likely to be pedophiles than straight men (in fact, i'd argue just the opposite). yet the stereotype persists--and i don't see any major newspapers challenging that very erroneous and damaging assumption.

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...but now and then we wonder who the real men are...

--Tori Amos, "Real Men," Strange Little Girls
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like a pernicious disease, it has been spreading across landscapes as personal as your computer desktop and as anonymous as an open highway. free speech or free markets? it's advertising, of course, and i've been learning to block it out since the day i was born.

hundreds of thousands--even millions, i'd wager--of individuals employed by various industriest to get mah money. big pharma's just one example. hey, raise your hand if you know exactly what "the purple pill" does, anyway. anyone? anyone? bueller?

for years advertising has been taking up increasingly more and more space. i've been reading the nytimes online--one of the worst offenders, as far as i can tell. there are those big ads smack dab in the middle of an article you're desperately trying to, well, read without being interrupted by flashies and colors and blocks of text that, indeed, have *nothing* whatever to do with said article. after all, there's nothing quite like the fuzzy feeling i get when i'm reading an article about car bombs in russia and the big ol' block-o-advertising is telling me to "Enjoy the Show! movies.nytimes.com" in a blood-red colored box. i'm increasingly reading the guardian these days.

free speech! advertisers cry. what about the freedom of the press, protected by our sweet old constitution? ok, ok. that's a sticky point. where do you draw the line between posting information that might be useful and aggressively buying up, plastering, and otherwise hogging public visual space? there must be a line in there somewhere, albeit thin and gray, and i'm determined to root it out... maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but some day... wait a second...

in the meantime, some fun and colorful goodies i'm choosing to view:
the Guerrilla Girls
the Obey campaign
Adbusters (although their magazine is *far* too expensive. exercise your diy skills and bust your own ads.)
and this little commentary on CommonDreams.org
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i just don't want him to do anything he's going to regret when he's 23, 43, or 63. i want him to be in a respectful, equal relationship based on mutual trust, honesty, and communication. i want her to be an honest and respectful person, as well. and i want him to be happy with what he's doing in his life. i want him to have some kind of direction or voice. i want him to deal with conflict and appreciate the gifts he's been given and the rights he's born with, not the entitlements he's come to expect. i want him to respect himself and face his life with thoughtfulness and conscience.

but these are all of *my* wants, which really have very little to do with the way he'll live his own life. i know that the world looks very different to 19-year-old eyes, and i don't delude myself into thinking that what i have to say about the world is at all in line with his experiences, much less have an impact on whatever fog in which he's enveloped himself these days.

so i'll just send a little well-wish across a few thousand miles to wherever he's at. it's 7:55am where he is right now, and he's probably sleeping. i hope that, when he wakes, he'll know that he's destined for better things.

after all, he is a forstie.
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Friday, August 22, 2003
 
don't mind me; i'm making some notes to myself. this random jumble of words will evolve into more readable prose in the near future, i promise:

fly on the wall
despite my size
temping
yes, the bad things:
disenfranchising
no benefits or job security
you get only 70 cents or less of every dollar you make
an easy-out for corrupt employers not wanting to hire staff & pay benefits
doing the
the two good things about temping:
*the seedy underbelly
who REALLY runs the place--the service folk, the admin folk
*the freedom of no responsibility--a place where nobody knows your name
like the talking heads "once in a lifetime"
letting the days go by...


this all looks familiar. i think i want to put it into an essay, but i'm not sure when i'll get around to it.

a fax just came through on the machine next to me titled "come enjoy florida, the timeless travel destination" "celebrating 100 years of disney enjoyment!" yesterday it was an ad for discount (wholesale?) cigarettes at ynotsmoke.com. i wish there was a way to block those ads. maybe i'm preaching to the choir, here, but i read this nifty article about SPAM and what you can and can't do about it. filthy junk mail.

i learned yesterday via the very navigable and user-friendly Consumers for Affordable Health Care that there are few options regarding health care for, well, really everyone. you have to be literally starving to qualify for assistance, but you have to be particularly poorly off if you're an adult with no children, not pregnant, and between the ages of 21 and 65. i can understand in a kindof warped way why it might be marginaly easier to obtain health care if you're in a particularly underserved state-defined group of people--if you're pregnant, a parent with a child or children, disabled, or elderly, but i don't understand why anyone has to go without health care. call me idealistic, but i believe it's a basic right. so, apparently, does every other large industrialized country except the US.

what IS it with the protestant ethic in this country--the whole bootstraps crap? not to say that individuals don't make decisions that affect the way their lives proceed, but choices are so much more than a list of checkboxes on the same white piece of paper for everyone. there's no such thing as a level playing field--there's too much history in the soil. why is that so hard for folks, particularly those on the right, to understand?

i guess i know the answer to that--it's simply easier to believe that everyone is born in the same sterile hospital to the same leave-it-to-beaver family and is raised in the same edward-scissorhands neighborhood with the same fake family values. it's easier to believe that that's the truth than actually think critically about what it's like to live in the real world.

the more i think about it, the more i truly believe that folks on the right are weak-minded. insulting? maybe. but SOMEone's got to give it back, and it might as well be me, at this point. Right-wingers truly believe that they know what's best for the world, and i'm sure they believe they're doing the best they can. but that's no excuse for the havoc they (and by "they" i'm referring particularly to this administration) wreak. ignorance is bliss, folks, and it's quite simply easier to believe that everyone's equal and that it's all written in the bible in black and white than to think about the complexities that govern daily life. it's 2-dimensional thinking.

more later...
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Wednesday, August 20, 2003
 
there is a little only mildly-smelly dog reclining under my desk. and i saw a young fellow re-painting a fire hydrant yellow on my way to work this morning. it will be a better day.
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Tuesday, August 19, 2003
 
a wicked cool satiric article from Rahne's site
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having very recently been rejected from yet another a job i really, really wanted, i found this article to be quite... relieving...
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wow.
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Friday, August 08, 2003
 
These boots were made for walkin'...

in line with ann's shoe desires, i've been lusting over these boots for as long as i can remember... i just can't justify spending... how much??? on those things, though. maybe someday when i'm rich and famous...
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check out this article on the US, Saudi Arabia, oil, arms, and crAzY links between the US and terrorism:
"An Axis of Junkies" by Julian Borger of the Guardian.
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i'm a receptionist for a day. it's a one-day temp assignment, and i'm sitting at the receptionist's desk, looking out into the mist that's falling so slowly that it looks like snow. but it's august and warm. some unidentifiable flowers are blooming and dying in a green basket to the right of my computer screen, and the basket's plastic price tag string is still poking out of the side of it. there are dark green leather couches and exotic-looking plants definitely not native to maine in the lobby. the switchboard buttons, normally (i'm guessing) blinking away like fireflies, are almost completely inactive, except for the occasional...

good afternoon, (insert name of company here), may i help you?

sorry, i'm just a temp.
just a temp.
just a temp.

if it weren't for the lack of benefits, the general inhumanity, and a few other socially-irresponsible details of temping and temp agencies, it might be interesting to make a career of this. clare the professional temp. you become chameleon-like, blending into office environments as hostile as war zones and as friendly as your living-room couch. (in this particular case, the carafe of "french vanilla" coffee in the break room upstairs was x'ed out with sharpie to read "freedom vanilla" coffee.) you start to gauge the quality and characteristics of a company based on your very first impressions of the folks who actually run the place--not the ceos or the presidents or the middle managers but the admin assistants, the "secretaries," the janitors, the shop floor workers, and the other temps who may or may not be similarly disgruntled. how a company treats its temps, the number of temps who work in various departments on a regular basis, and the little bits of information to which temps are privy (in ways that regular/permanent employees are not) are all indicators of the quality of a company.

for example, based on the way i was treated at the agency i just vacated, the company for which i was working hires temps on a regular basis to perform work for which they are rarely adequately trained. this fact indicates to me that they are unwilling to invest in full-time employees and pay their benefits packages--either that or the work is so terrible and mind-numbing that no one is willing to do it for very long. actually, i find that latter assertion harder to believe; in my experience, there are very few kinds of work that folks are totally unwilling to perform for extended periods of time, unless the company in which these tasks are based is simply unbearable to work for. that was how i felt at that place, anyway. if it were up to me, of course, i'd run things a little differently... but what do i know? i'm just a temp.

one step below an intern, one step above unemployment. i'm just a temp.

there's another level of analysis here, as well. temp agencies for all of their almost unbelievably similar characteristics (down to the types of carpeting in their offices, the testing software they employ, and the tones of voice they use when dealing with employees and customers on the phone) can be quite different depending on the personalities and quality of "staffing specialists" they employ. they run the gamut from small, locally-based, often friendly, and generally respectful and empowering agencies to the nationwide "labor mills" that spit workers in and out with as little human interaction as possible before and after a job. i, personally, have had bad experiences with one mill in particular, in the sense that they've been condescending, inconsistent, rude, and have generally stuck me with the most unappealing jobs. i've had what i call great luck, though, with a couple of local agencies, one of which has consistently found me work and the other of which has yet to find me a job but has always treated me with the most dignity and respect of all agencies for which i've worked.

i'd love to do a research project of some kind on temp agencies. maybe if i ever get to grad school.

*************

just under two hours to go, and the mist has ceased outside of the lobby beyond my little receptionist's window. the air looks a bit yellow, and a royal blue flag bearing the maine state seal flaps in the wet wind across the street. there's an american flag above it on the flagpole, but it appears to be stuck, plastered to the pole, and its bottom corner is wiggling rather pathetically. the only sounds that reach my ears are the constant hum of machines, mystery machines that are the aural backdrop to any office building in this country. air conditioning? computers? massive servers lurking behind the walls? the fluorescent lighting beaming from between stippled ceiling tiles? it's a symphony of unknown depth and purpose, marked by the occasional swish of cars passing on the industrial park driveway several yards away. it's friday, 3:19 pm and, if you're lucky, you've gotten out early to start your weekend. TGIF, or so they say--thank GOODNESS it's friday.

it's amazing how strongly identified people are with their work--at least, to me. one of the first things a stranger asks you upon first being introduced is "so, what do you do?" it would be interesting if folks instead asked something like "so, how do you make this world a better place?" and if the answer to that question happened to be the same, then hey! that's my goal in my current job search. i refuse to be a leech in the very american sense of the word--and i do recognize that i'm being a tad hypocritical here. after all, i am a temp. just a temp.

as much as i disliked their mill qualities, i liked the concept behind PSG's nonprofit support part of their so-called "guaranteed work program" (note: when i was employed there, i was never supplied with a job, nor was i told about this program. i found it on their website and in the stack of documentation i was handed after waiting a very long time to meet with a representative. hence me stating that i like the "concept behind..."). from their website: "Nonprofit support.
As part of our Guaranteed Work Program, we offer the services of any unassigned temps to local nonprofit organizations, while PSG pays the employees at their regular hourly rates. It gives our employment candidates a chance to do some rewarding work they might not get a chance to be involved in otherwise, and it lets us give back to the communities that have helped us grow."

what i want to know is: is the existence of a hypothetical temp agency designed solely to serve nonprofits antithetical to the idea of a nonprofit? it seems that nonprofits, more than corporations, need to be aware of both monetary and social expenditures (although i would argue that corporations should be doing the same. i'm not that naive to believe that they do--c'mon, i'm a temp). that is, the idea behind a temp isn't exactly the healthiest for a community. but, realistically, is it a good idea? or is it just destructive? hmmm.

while you think on this, consider the possibility of a union for all temp--more broadly known as "contingent"--workers. wowee zowee! guaranteed break and meal time? a living wage based on the local economy? benefits, even??? oh! a temp worker can only dream.



until that glorious day--also the day when gender becomes irrelevant, when sexual violence is eliminated, and firearms are antiques remembered only by the authors of history texts--i remain...
just.
a.
temp.
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Thursday, August 07, 2003
 
here's the good news: Rev. Gene Robinson was elected as the first openly gay bishop of the Episcopal Church last night. I find it difficult to grasp the outcry against this result, given the history of the Anglican Church and its american offshoot, the Episcopal Church. on the one hand, yay! for the Episcopal Church for embracing reality. on the other hand, um... wasn't the Anglican Church first formed because Henry VIII wanted a divorce in 1534 and the pope wouldn't give it to him? talk about taboo...

and another thing, about the whole "gay marriage" debate that's been floating around. i wish someone would explain to me, in reasonable, logical terms, non-religious terms, why giving gay folks the right to marry is, in their mind, a bad thing. i have trouble wrapping my mind around all of the debate around this so-called "issue." marriage is, for all of its basis in religious doctrine, an institution that is imbedded in our social, legal, and political structures. in other words, folks who are married receive a number of benefits from which folks who aren't married or can't marry are excluded. i don't give a flying fart whether or not folks believe that being queer is a sin; it's almost exclusively a civil rights issue, not a so-called "moral" one. perhaps this is the last great battle between church and state.

not that i believe that the church and state will ever be completely separate, unfortunately. this country's history is too strongly based on christian mythology and dogma to completely disentangle itself. but: i can conceive of no logical argument against gay marriage that falls squarely into the "state" realm while completely sidestepping the "church" one. is it a "sin" to be queer? i'm sure some folks believe that, and believe away! but nowhere in the law is "sin" a criteria for citizenship. after all, divorce is a "sin," as is sex beyond the marriage bed, but the law doesn't discriminate against divorced or adulterous people. and i have yet to see proof that allowing gay people to marry contributes in any way to the destabilization of "the family." actually, allowing gay folks to marry would greatly contribute to the stabilization of the family--think of all of those happy queers who would settle down in a monogamous relationship with 2.5 kids and a house with a picket fence if only they could!

now, i have my own reflections on the institution of marriage itself. i'll save that for another rant. a good read at this point, though, is Valerie Lehr's Queer Family Values.

*************

i dreamed last night that the world was ending. the world, in this dream, consisted of a seaside city of ugly concrete-and-glass buildings, and the apocalypse was about to arrive from the ocean in some horrific form. the inhabitants of the city, myself included, were instructed (by whom? whichever deities were effecting this end-of-the-world scenario, i think) to deposit ourselves down, down, down in the basement of the tallest ugly building, to be confronted by our own collective demons. really. the entire population of the city--by my estimation, about 1,000--descended through the fancy lobby of this ugly building down the rarely-used stairs by the elevators. the stairs were (surprise!) concrete, as well, and we climbed down and down and down into the blue emergency lighting and the dust. at each landing was a wooden door about the size of a wal-mart cart door that looked like it had been padlocked since the beginning of time. i guess, the idea in my dream was that it actually had. in any case, we must have been descending for hours when the last of us reached as far down as we could go, and we stopped, held ourselves, and waited for the end of the world to arrive. we were expecting that we would simply be crushed by the building and that would be a quick end to it all, but, as the world was ending far above us, our demons broke through the wooden doors and we began a conversation.

i don't really remember what was said, and i don't remember much about the demon's appearance. if i could describe what i actually saw in the dream, it would probably be close to some cheesy horror movie figure, like the cryptkeeper or a gremlin. perhaps those are the only images in my brain's stock that are even close to suitable for this type of entity. in any case, the demon didn't come out screaming or trying to tear our eyes out or anything. he came out talking, and those of us who weren't afraid (hey, it was the end of the world--what could be scarier?) talked back. like i said, we had a conversation, and i even remember joking around with this demon about... something. it's hard to imagine being in good humor when you know the end of the world is upon you. eventually, we came to some kind of agreement, the demon and the folks who had descended to that particular depth. meantime, the apocalypse was raging outside.

after a while, it was over. the demon told us so. and we were still alive. we started ascending the stairs and noticed that lots and lots of folks had disappeared. in fact, there were only a handful of us who had survived--those of us, i gather, who had somehow come to some kind of understanding with our respective demons. those of us who had reconciled ourselves with them. and, as we rose out of the basement and into the glassy, brassy lobby--recently reduced to rubble--we looked around at each other and smiled. in the sky, the black clouds of a very bad storm were receding into the ocean.

wha?
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Monday, August 04, 2003
 
this new design made my day. ann rocks.

update, part one

for better or worse (i'm inclined to say worse, at this particular moment), i'm still alive. or, as eddie vedder put it, "hey, i... ohhhh, i'm still alive."

i'm back in maine. i've willed myself to unemployment this time. it happened in the shower this morning. maybe it's a sign of the onset of some kind of mental illness, but i thought to myself: hey, what the futz am i doing here? this job that i'm working in makes me physically ill. i can literally feel my soul being squeezed out of my corporeal self by the minute. why am i doing this for a freakin' temp job?

so i quit.

a half-hour later, i have a job lined up for friday, and another starting next friday. and i'm applying for jobs i would actually enjoy working in the meantime. so, where does the "worse" come in?

update, part deux
the magic mirror gate in the neverending story by michael ende

if you've either seen the movie (recommended) or read the book (emphaticaly recommended), you might recall the magic mirror gate through which bastian must pass in order to reach the southern oracle. we people like to think that, when faced with our images in the mirror, we might see nothing more frightening than a child. de temps en temps, i find myself facing an image of me that makes me feel like i'm facing a monster. it feels like the magic mirror gate--like i catch a glimpse of my "true" self, and i want to "run away screaming" from this horrible reality.

update, part iii
i used to talk with this very nice counselor at my school, back when i was having "issues." one thing he said to me that i remember is that i need to treat myself with the same kindness with which i tend to treat others.

that comment made sense to me for a while, but... i know much more about myself than i do about others. i like to give others the benefit of the doubt, generally speaking. why would i do that for someone i know full well doesn't deserve that?

i'm being a bit harsh on myself; i know it.

update, part 4
i quit my temp job this morning, a job that might seem like a sweet deal. it made me feel completely and utterly worthless, though.

i worked in a similar temp job in this same place two summers ago, and i hated it then. i don't know why i agreed to go back. since i had worked there before, they gave me a "promotion" and hired me for a position they had been looking to fill.

the image that kept floating around in my brain was this: jesus, four and a half years of some elite school. a soft, white, middle-class kid. what hardship have i ever had to face except myself? four and a half years of education, and i ended up in the same temp job i had been working two years ago. in a field that bears no relevance to my major, no relevance to my interests, just to make a buck. what's wrong with me? why can't i find meaningful work?

yeah, yeah, i know. everyone's unemployed. everyone's looking for work. i'm actually better off than most because i have a degree and some job experience. yet, here i am.

and, on top of it all, i just quit my only source of revenue.

update, part cinq
where the HELL did my politics go?
.
.
.

update, part six
i told melanie the other night that there are often two of me. one of me who does the doing, and the other of me who yells at me for doing the things i do. the one of me, at this moment, is typing away (click-a click-a). the other is ranting and pulling at her hair, yelling "what are you whining about??? nobody cares about your petty little personal problems. it's so... goddamn... BORING. and it's your own fault for quitting, anyway. that seems to be your solution to everything, isn't it?" etc. etc. ad infinitum. i think everyone has two of themselves, so i don't believe i'm alone in this regard. but the two of me feel particularly separate at this point.

update, part vii
i'm about to head off to look for some more jobs. at least i have something for friday and something beginning next week, right? but... but...



i had a dream a few nights ago on one of the nights i could actually sleep (they've been surprisingly rare these days. can't remember the last time i had an honest-to-god 6- or 7-hour stretch of straight sleep.). i dreamed that i was a child, maybe twelve or so, who had been living with her family in this house. all i knew was this house and the occupants and items therein. i had never left the house, and it was all fine by me. then, i, for some reason, flew into a rage at some silly thing and ran at a wall. i found myself stumbling forward into a long tunnel lined with rock and metal, and i kept running. i ran and i ran, bewildered by the space that had appeared in front of me. where was i? i stopped, turned around, looked behind me, and all i could see was darkness. no house behind me. at that moment, the dream shifted a little, and i was watching my twelve-year-old self from outside of myself, as though i was watching myself on tv. i looked at my face, scared at having no way to get back to that which had been so familiar, but resolute at going forward. the tunnel had to end somewhere. i watched myself emerge from a cave and realize that the house in which i had been living for years was simply built inside a cave. no one came out from the house to get me and try to bring me home. i kept walking. i saw, over the edge of a cliff, the rest of the world for the first time. it was awesome, to me watching me, seeing a person discover what the viewer-me had taken for granted as being "the world." things the viewer-me had seen all of my life that the viewed-me was only just noticing. trees, animals, other people.

then, the logical part of me kicked in and i woke up.

update, part eight
"HEY, I... OHHH, I'M STILL ALIVE..."
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