Despite the fact that between Monday and Wednesday, I only had a total of maybe 7 hours of sleep, I know I had a fantastic two days (Tuesday ad Wednesday... Monday was great fun too, actually - did The Slaughtered Lamb, had potato skins and a reese's choclate peanut butter pie, and some Original Sin cider... really good time too).
Tuesday, at the crack of 8 am, my mom and I went to Snug Hrbor, after buying bagels and the newspapers, to line up to get tickets for Hair. We were about 20th in line, by 9am, which shocked the hell out of me because, in my head, Hamlet should have brought more a crowd... afterall, it's fucking Hamlet. But Hair is clearly the bigger draw... having never seen Hair (my mother wouldn't met me see the movie the few occaisons it was on TV when I was younger, and so I never had an interest in pursuing it) I didn't get it.
So, got the tickets, went to the city, and had yummy food at Pong Sri, and went to meet Pixy at MSG. We killed some time at the Borders, where I bought East of Eden (my favorite book, which I had lent out years ago and never got back), and we picked up PIxy, and went to Central Park to meet Kay.
It was fantastic fun to just sit up there in the castle-thiny, look at the algea lake, and just talk. It's been a while since we've all been together, and we thought there'd be a million things to say to each other, but Kay was right when she said that she thought it'd be lie "OMG, I haven't seen you in forever" but it felt like we just saw eachother yesterday.
So, we went to wwatch Hair, and it was the first night of previews (which is exciting, because that's when you see it in it's rawest form, before they finalize everything for the actual run).
The vocals were amazing. Absolutely amazing. I have the recording of the OBC for Hair, and it's ok, but man... THIS group? I want THIS recording. The actors' excitment and energy was amazing and it just infected the audience, as I think it's supposed to.
At the end, me and Kay went onstage to dance with the cast after bows. Pixy was encouraged by my mom to go to, but we weren't able to meet up on stage. It was almost a spiritual experience, and I'm so glad I did it, because I would have regretted it forever if I didn't. I will definitely be getting tickets to see it again, so let me know if you want to go and we'll go together. It's absoutelly electic. And then yesterday was awesome. Got up early and got breakfast at the diner, had an awesoem waitress who was like a grandmother, Pixy bought games from Blockbuster with a gift card, and then bought an XBox 360 at Best Buy for our apartment (oh, our apartment is going to be awesome and full of video games). We then caught a bus with a broken metrocard thingy, and went to Tottenville so I could get a hald hour's worth of trainign from Erin because I'm working at BiscuitMagoo all day Saturday, and have never worked in the morning or afternoon, so I needed some basic idea of what to do.
Then we went to the city to meet up with Kay in Union Square Park, where we then went to Max Brenner where we had a really great waiter, had the most delicious martinis, a cheese tasting appetizer, dinner type stuff, and some fantastic desserts. We came before the dinner crowd, so we got seated right away, by the time we left, the dinner crowd was coming in and there was at least a half hour wait.
We were going to go bowling at this place Kay had found, but when we got there, there was bouncer with a clip board, and a velvet rope. So we were like TF? Trendy bowling place? That's so lame. And we walked around for a while, and found a movie theater on W 23rd. It was a bit more expensive than usual, but it was very clean, and kind of swanky, and the seats were really comfortable - more comfy than the ones in the theater on Forest.
We saw Mamma Mia. Shut up. Me and Pixy wanted to see it because it looked horrible, and Kaydidn't want to see it because it looked horrible. But... but we were soooo surprised. At first we were like "Eh? Are they taking themseles seriosuly?" it took about 10 minutes to realize that no, they weren't. It's like everyone in the movie had a lot of food, and that they went for it being a bit campy and goofy, and then you could tell the whole audience, by that point, was with them. By the way, Colin Firth? Fricken adorable! Everything he does in it is amazing adorable.
It was very funny, on purpose.
And that was the end of the First Official Girls' Night as Autonomous Adults. It was a blast. And now I had Abba in my head.

So, I have this journal that I tak with me everywhere. Much of it is full of the mundane, day-to-day, neurotic ramblings of a person whose bain never seems to shut off (this makes sleeping difficult). Sometimes I look back in it to remind myself of a n amzing night, or to simply remember a night. Sometimes I will write a short narrative, or continue a story I started elsewhere. Sometimes I'll have random lines of poetry written. So, since I am at work right now, and my job consists solely of sitting around and making sure that the dogs here go to sleep... which involves quite a lot of sitting and not a lot of much else... I decided to have a look through my journal, and pull out some of the "best" parts:

June 5th, 2008, 11.29pm

I have half a mind to go across the street to those highschoolers aand tell them they're partying wrong.

June 6th, 2008

it's nearly 4.30am... "I see Ghosts" has a suspicious lack of ghosts.

8.46pm

"Why do people think I'm so interesting?"

You're not; shut up; I hate you 16 year old.

June 7th, 2008 2.43 am

...I just want to tell one of them that I think they're fantastic... I also want to go see them not surrounded by 16 year olds.

6.31pm

...I'm a reverse-psychic... on the bright side, I won't have a bad time, I won't get raped... but I'll probably get lost.

Drunk O'clock (11.30-ish)

A man in front of me has a tattoo of an eye on the back of his neck. It really freaks me out....

---

(Much of the rest of this entry is pretty illegible, though one word repeats throughout: DOOOOOOOOOOOMED!!!!!)

June 8th, 2008 4.14pm

...though to be honest, for 2 people to live on Staten Island, that's lmore like saying "We live in the ame small village" than "same city...

---

...Also? I wholeheartedly approve of songs about robots and aliens w/o them being metaphors.

---

...so he started dancing, all sexy-sexy (like, I dunno, a snake, slithering? Not "Damn! He's a sexy dancer!" but "That's a sexy-sexy dance! Also he's damn sexy)...

---

(...but, again, these are not things I pay attention to)...

June12th, 2008 7pmish

I really need to clean my room. Like Woah... ...I guesswhen I'm done procrastinating, I'll do it.

---

...and the lead singer of a band, a great band, a great band with a strong following, a great band with a strong followng of nubile 16 year old girls...

June 16th, 12.44am

...who remembered me, which always amazes me.

---

...so I gave him the angry shaking fist, which I haven't used in years! I love that gesture! Why did I ever stpo usingit to connote false anger?

---

...though the Culture Shock explaination was so that I would remember why I couldn't remember what happened that weekend...

June 18th, 10.22pm

...if I did, then he (wisely) chose to ignore it. If I didn't, then I am thankful for my internet being as Orgeon Trail as it is...

---

...[about Jonesy, a Rottweiler at the kennel] It really sucks, but I know he's just crying for attention right now and going in there is just going to rile him up (according to the boss). It sucks cause I can hear him cry (this is crossed out) throwing up....

June 20th 6.22pm

...my eyes itch a lot right now

---

...who, in real life, slips on a banana pel? No one. That's who.... well, xcept that guy on the street.

---

...Fuck it. One more drink.

---

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to stare at your crotch"

Yes you do!

---

Adventures in Jill needs to learn how to fucking drive:

1.41am if a train doesn't come NOW I will not get home until 4am. I am hungry.

June 21st, 5.30 pm

...I really only remember the Wishbone, but I think I'd remember if there was a dinosaur in that episode.

---

...why does my brain fold in on itself like a... like a souffle?

June 24th, 2008 9.04pm

...Plus, you don't give crazy pepole hugs.

---

...I changed the playlist on my iPod and now it reads like a Who's Who of Purchase bands [from when I went]. All I'm missing are tracks from O'Death and The Woes... but I can fix that... eventually.

11.47pm

...and when reality enters, all you can hear is the dream-egg shatter.

---

...I realize that I should not be hld responsible for anything I say or do when over-tired.

There's a thing I'm in the midst of writing, and right now it's all coming very stream of conciousy. While I doubt this'll be the final format at all, opinions are welcome!

http://jillerswriting.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-had-steam-punk-dream.html

Also, I highly recommend people listen to Anthony Warlow. He may be the greaest singer ever.

When I was at Purchase, Saturdays often found me and my friends wandering around campus, joining drum circles, playing frisbee on what was then The Great Lawn (which I reckon it's still called, but somehow, cutting away about an eighth of ot for that new building made seem much less great), andhaving barbeques at the various barbequepits located around campus-or, at the very least, eating your food outside: taking your lunch from The Hub and eating on the Mall.

People who know me well, know that I speak about my times at Purchase full of love, but not regret. Purchase was changing when I dropped out. If I went back, it wouldn't be the same place I left; it would be bigger, with unfamiliar buildings, full of a new generation of students who like sports.

Still, the times I spent at Purchase, even the drama filled times, were golden. New bands were forming all the time, and playing at The Student Center, which I will never call The Stood. People would take their guitars out to the Quad and jsut jam, and walking through The Music Building and The Visual Arts Building meant that you were going to experience something great: someone composing a new song, an opera singer practicing for the next show; color expreriments, black and whites of inoccuous things which suddenly don't seem that way anymore. One of my greatest joys at this time in my life was, on a sunny day, just lying in the grass outside a window of the Music Building. I'd hear so many beautiful things. A stroll through the Visual Arts at night was also somewhat magical, as the building would mostly empty, and you really got a chance to see the art. Sometimes you met new people, doing new and wonderful things. Once my frineds and I caame across a bunch of people who were doing a noise experiment. Not put-off by our sudden appearance, they welcomed us, and asked us to give them a hand by making noise for 15 minutes with them.

It's times like these, and countless others that made SUNY Purcahse a home for many of us strays.

One of the best times ever had at Purchase was (and probably is) Culture Shock - a weekend, starting with Pre-Shock on Thursdays, where bands from the school would play, and going into the main event Friday, ending Saturday night, full of carnival rides, carnival food, and bands. Lots and lots of bands.

Unless it was raining, the bands would perform on a stage outside in the green, grassy, wonderful Quad. Even people you dind't know were your frineds that weekend. Someone always had something nice to say, and there was such a sense of community, that how could you want to be anywhere else?

This is prettyy much how Rock the Harbor felt for me. Wonderful things like an all day concert of local bands just didn't happen on Staten Island. As much as I love it here, understand that this is a small, quiet suburb, full of painful adolescent memories, and with most of my friends being from Purchase, and not SI, there really hasn't been much of an impetus for me to be enjoying myslef here. Mostly I spent the past two or three years wishing I was living somewhere else - somewhere where I felt I belonged.

My journey to even knowing about Rock the Harbor, something I would have completley missed otherwise, starts with seeing my friend performwith a band. Sentient Machine isn't my type of music; despite that, they're still amazing at the music they do make. Christina has been my friend since high school, and is the sole reason that I'm still friends with Adj, after a bunch of stupidity that happened, so long ago. Hanging out after their show (which I sadly missed due to bad directions, and having my flip-flop fall apart on me somwhere in the Village), she said she was leaving after Julius C - a band from SI (which shocked me) - who had gotten them their gig. So, I, of course, stayed. It's a joy of mine to discover new bands to follow by hearing them live, instead of on myspace. Nothing, my friends, absolutely NOTHING, beats hearing a band play live, and watching the group dynamic.

Julius C had such a different sound than what I was used to hearing. At Purchase, while the bands were all talented, and I walked away following no less than bands, they could still all be put into maybe three categories: Alternative Pop/Rock, Metal, and "Experimental". The sort of metal/funk sound of Julius C was strangely refreshing, and, more than that, infecting. So, I officially became a fan, and it was through them that I had even found out about Rock the Harbor.

And that's where I went yesterday, instead of a surprise 30th birthday for my cousin-in-law. It was the best excuse to not go to a family even ever. There I was, on a Saturday afternoon, walking barefoot thorugh Snug Harbor, on the South Lawn, enjoying music from bands I hadn't heard of. At one point I had a cherry Itialian Ice.

It was an amazing day. Honestly, it was the best Saturday I've ever had on Staten Island. For the first time in years I felt like I had a place I belonged.

It onlygot better when it started to rain. While most people ran for shelter, I ran for the rain. It was like Purchase all over again, all I was missing was a giant statue to run to with my friends and drum on it. Raain, at Purchase, was, for the most part, embraced. People would run out in it, dance in the rain, shout at the thunder, run through the mud. I was one of them.

Yes, I was there by myself, but I know my friends here on SI - they're not so fond of the rain at all. I don't think I Would have been able to convince Adj to come running with me through the rain, or go barefoot for that matter. Sure, it would have been great to have her or any of my friends there, but, I guess a small part of me is also glad they weren't. I was able to experience Purchase again, on my own terms.

You do these things, like put your name in a hate to be randomly drawn for an open mic, on the very large chance that you won't actually be picked, because you want to try it out, but are really afraid of trying it, and you can say to yourself: "Well, didn't get a spot this week, since it's all chosen at random, maybe next week" - because if you put your name in the hat, you're at least trying, and if your name doesn't get called, then that's fine, you still tried. No room this week, maybe next week.

But then there's that small chance that you do get picked, and you find out that you have to do a open mic, and that, while 5 minutes of stand up isn't the worst thing in the world, you legitimately freak out, because you are interested in doing this, and trying this, but are really terrified of that first step, chalking it all up to fate and "it'll happen, when it happens, but it won't happen now". Now it's now.

I was really excited to see my name on the list, and now I'm all terrified because what if I'm only funny in my head? What if I'm not as charismatic as I fooled myself into believing? What is I really, really, suck?

But, despite my fears, and the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, and the fact that I'll probably look like a shaking chihuahua on stage for 5 minutes, fate said "you missed your first turn, I don't happen often, don't expect me again if you eff this one up. try."

Well... I have to. Well, I will. Still freaked out, but maybe I will get booze beforehand to take the edge off.

Also, during the course of the day, I've moved furniture, overstretched a yoga position, and contorted my back in various ways searching for things that may have fallen thorugh some cracks, and now my lower back effin' hurts. And I'm really sleepy.

Ok, no, it's only 1.30pm, I'm NOT drunk and shouting "doooooomed" as I often do. I'm completely serious about this.

Britain just completed SkyNet.

"Skynet 5 is the latest iteration of a global communications system deployed by the British Armed Forces. The final satellite in the system was launched this week, and will allow high-bandwidth telecommunications between British forces located anywhere in the world. In addition to voice communications, it will allow data transfer and the remote control of robot airplanes, one of which is called "The Reaper." One of the manufacturers was quoted by BBC News as saying: "So, computers can talk directly to computers."


Linkage

So guys... robots are beginning to be able to self-replicate, SkyNet's been built... we're on a slippery slippery sci-fi movie apocalypse.


You know, in my many apocalytpic-survival plans, I dind't count on the fucking TERMINATORS. Thanks a LOT Britain. Now I have to perfect time travel, and fast!

I went to see a band at The Cup yesterday: Julius C. This was the first time I have gone to see them,e xclusively; I had seen them twice before by happenstance: they were a band playing the same night as another badn I had gone to see. Well, this post isn't about them at all, it's about something that crossed my mind while there.

Apparently Julius C is very popular on Staten Island. I assume I missed much of the bur-ha-ha concerning Julius C while I was busy following The Fireflies - a band I went to school with (in that we co-habited the same campus, not in the "we went to the same classes" sense). It seems only fitting, then, that I first saw Julius C at a Fireflies concert; however, my reaction was less "This band is awesome" and more "who the hell are these chumps? They're not The Fireflies".

Julius C has a fairly large following, it seems. Many of them seem to be 16. This brings me to The Cup, and last night, and the meat of this post.

It is early June, and some people are still in school: anyone who isn't in the final grade a school has to offer, for example. So, I felt fairly uncomfortable there. I knew The Cup as "The Muddy Cup": a coffee-house that seemed to be, perhaps, the only 'indie" place on Staten Island. It had chairs and couches, all with a second-hand feel: worn, and comforatbale. Once you sat down in one of these, you would sink down into them and realize, too late, that you won't be able to get up out of the chair without a great deal of leverage. I had only ever gone to The Muddy Cup once, with Adj and James and Jamie, after I had come back from Purchase with a definite personality, clothing style, and a head full of ideas and experiences that seemed to seperate me from Staten Island, and it's yupies and guidos and wiggers. I was there, that time, to make-up with Jamie: there had been a huge falling out four years earlier between, not only me and her, but everyone with everyone else. Jamie and I both had grown up to the point that we realized we were both being stupid high schoolers. So, with Adj and James and mediators, and The Muddy Cup as neutral territory, we reconciled... which involved completely forgetting everything that had happened and acting as if nothing had changed: picking up where we left off.

I didn't notice it then, still sore at the whole fiasco that led me to move back home and drop out of school, but I did last night: The Cup, which is still decorated with the same couches, with the same dim, warm, lights, is not exactly like The Co-Op, Purchase's little-known escape-from-reality, hole-in-the-wall, with a Pac Man machine, a wall full of books, a picnic table, a piano, and a little stage for musicians, poets, etc... to just do their thing, whenever they wanted. They served Tea and Coffee and had vegan snack. An Indie paradise. That is The Cup, on Staten Island, though it seems to falter in comparison to me, now that "indie" has a name, and people try to act and dress it, without being it.... hwoever you want to define "it". It's not that The Cup ISN'T indie, it's that my impressions of "indie" and "bohemian" are of people, living together on a campus, without such labels, just being themselves and fitting in.

It wasn't this kind of awareness that what I had walked into was an "indie" place, but all the 16 year olds. I realized I was much older than many of the people there. It made me feel out of place even more. I hated 16 year olds. I hated them when I was 16. There is NO other age group that manages to still destroy my self-esteem, even tohugh I am now 23, going on 24, and should know better.

I didn't realize how many were actually 16 until the leader of a band, The Corrao Q, asked how many people would be taking the SATs the next day. Many of them cheered in response "Oh my God!" they seem to say "He's connecting with us, and knows who we are, and cares!"

It's funny that at that point then I remember something that I very rarely remember. I wrote it down in my journal, though I iddn't need to: whenever this memory is dug up, it stays around for a few days.

I was as enior in high school then. It wasn't so long ago, but it's furth and further ago as I get older. I had already taken the SATs in my junior year - as many of the 16 year olds were going to the next day. I barely broke 1000: 1090. I was happy with that, as my first time around I had intended to break 1000. Still, come senior year, with the option to take the SATs again in early October, I signed up. 1090 is a fine first time score. It would not, however, satisfy me. It felt average.

At the time I was one of a handful of students inthe Performing Arts Institute at my school. I was a member of the first class to have Performing Arts all 4 yeard of high school. It wasn't The High School for Performing Arts, like in "Fame", but a reproduction, condensed into one 45 minute class a day. Still, it was home to me, and I felt proud to be in the program, as you had to audition to get into it.

Not only Performing Arts, but I was also in Chorus and Drama - a requirment of the program was that we had to be in at least one of these clubs.

Because of my involvment in the clubs, I had to be at the Open House: when 7th and 8th graders explore high schools to see if they like them, and if they're going to apply there.

Club members had to be there by 9. Performing Arts students had to be there by 8. The Open House started at 10, and went on to 5pm.

I sang, acted, promoted Perfomring Arts as best I could, and was, generally busy.

Between "shows" (tours), we had about 15 minutes to do whatever else we wanted to: promote other clubs we were a part of (art club in my case), or just walk around.

It was during one of these walk, with my friend Kelly (I think), that I ran across Mr. Galli, who was everyone's favorite teacher. A short Italian man, with black hair, and mustache, who managed to make Global History class interesting and worth not sleeping through.

Kelly and I had been criticising everyone's performance at the previous "show", practicing the harmonies of some songs, and throwing lines back and forth at eachother, when Mr. Galli, in his 5'5" glory, pointed at me from across a hall and said "You weren't where you were supposed to be yesterday!"

"Where WAS I uspposed to be yesterday?" I thought to myself, and then went on to question "Where was I supposed to be yesterday that Mr. Galli would know about?"

I don't know what my face looked like at that moment, though I imagine it was cartoonish. A face blanbk of comrehension, suddenly eyes widening, motuh dropping open, in the gradual realization that I had completely forgotten about my SATs. I didn't even have a good excuse: I wasn't sick, I wans't visitng a sick relative, I dind't wake up late. I had just forgotten.

I know for a fact my school, before going home that Friday, had wished everyone taking the SATs the next day, "Good Luck". I wrote it on my calendar. I told my parents. I told my friends. Yet, Saturday came, and Saturday went without a nagging feeling that I had forgotten something, like I usually get when I'm busy screwing up my life by forgetting something, and there I was, Sunday afternoon, completely dumbstruck.

I went on to take the SATs with my friends Adj and Jev in December. We had crammed the night before froma Baron's book at our friend's kitchen table, instead of playing the role-playing game like usual. Jev bought us bagels. I broughtoranges. We entered the building, and took our tests, and were all satisfied by the results. I don't remember, nor do I care to, the grades of my friends: that's their business and I was never in completition with them, just with myself. I, however, got an 1170. I should mention that that, compared with the previous marks in Math and English, my Math score stayed exactly the same. It has nothing to do with anything else, but it's a little thing I also remember, those rare times I remember the SATs.

I have two separate fantasy lives. There one which pretty much stays in my head, that I write down and make stories out of. Sometimes they are fanfiction, but more often than not, especially now that I've grown older, they tend to be their own story lines that pop out of nowhere.

Then there's the tangental fantasy world, where if it doesn't go into the world of fanfiction or written word, it becomes something I feel like I need to act out. Whether it's Harry Potter, Final Fantasy, or House, there's an odd need/desire to be a part of it. However, it's a weird broken fanatsy. I don't like to think about acting out (or even, when I'm alone, actually acting out) my fantasies as though the world was real, and tangible. Those worlds are man made constructs. I, instead, imagine being part of that team, and doing scenes with them... and, you know, messing up lines, and goofing around on set....

Is that weird?

I thought about it recently. Hamlet is the original Emo kid.

I have a hobby, and, I admit, it's strange.

I look at personal ads. I don't do it to seek love, I do it to be entertained, in a sick, sad way.

I know I probably shouldn't get a kick out of reading these posts, from singel women just looking for Mister Right, and singel men wondering why all women are fake. I guess I've always been intereated in other people's lives, since mine is pretty dull.

There's always some sort of desperation about them, isn't there? Either it's "Here are all my cards, on the table, take me or leave me, but please take me!" or it's "I am an amazing person and do all the romantic things you love to do, but I'm single. Won't you love me?!"

And I wonder what these people actually look like - is that 5"11 man, who is "extremely fit", actually some 5'5" balding man with a tummy round from drinking too many beers. Women don't lie much - they just use creative language to mask their deficiencies: "Spontaneous" is "bat-shit crazy", "voluptuous" is "fat", "opinianted" is "deamnding and won't shut the hell up until you do what I want".

But every once in a while, an ad will come along that makes you stop, stare, and laugh hysterically, because what else can you do? From the "artist" who is seeking a roommate at 100 a month, but requests that you don't flush because feces is her medium, to the intern positions that pay nothing but expect you to work 8 hours a day 5 days a week doing the work of someone highly skilled, to this guy:

"For the longest time, I have admired the dynamic between this cross species couple. But then, sometime during the 80s, a commercial for the Muppets: Live on Stage added a new dimension. In it, a stretch limousine was pulling up in front of a theater. A footman opened the door, and a shapely, rather thick leg stepped onto the red carpet. As the rest of the form followed, it was revealed that it belonged to a woman wearing a full bodied Miss Piggy costume under an alluring evening dress. AND I WANTED HER. And, to be quite honest, I've never stopped.

Some time ago, I found an original full head rubber Miss Piggy mask, circa 1976, complete with a full head of long blond hair. I am looking for a tall, sexy BBW, preferably over 300 pounds, to wear this mask to bed. She should also be open to playing with plastic wrap and liquid latex. Blonde is best, I suppose, but not necessary. Who knows - for the right woman I might just get a green rubber suit and a Kermit mask."

I.... I really wish I could have made that up.

My toenail fell off. I'm looking at it. The nail must have been dead for a while because it popped off like a lid to a can of paint, and there was already nail growing in beneath it.

This came about because I watched that animated version of Peter and the Wolf that won the Oscar for best animated short this year (it's really good).
I think about fairy tales sometimes, and I realize, when I was a kid, I focused on the wrong things. Stories about damsels in distress made me wary of old women (there was a period where I didn't eat apples for a very long time); they made me think "If I grow my hair long, I'll have a way out of a tower!"; sleeping girls get kissed by princes; being beautiful means you have blond hair; if you have a stepmother, you're screwed.
I realized while watching Peter and the Wolf, another lesson I came away with from fairy tales:
Always chew your food or else it'll escape.

Yeah, I don't think my mind was the intended audience for Fairy Tales.

I thought about it the other night - somewhere along the line, I've become completely unaware of the stars: how appalling! I used to dream of stars and galazies. I'd gaze through my telescope and be in awe. I could point out constellations and name stars. I'd lie on a blanket in the backyard and just look up at the night sky.

What my life is missing is the ability to see the stars, and just lie outside on a warm nigth as stare at them.

I dream of names. I wake up with phrases in my head and visuals I couldn't have thought of awake. Sometimes I dream up entire tv episodes. I dreamt one last night about Dr. Who. It was interesting, and suspensful, involving the Daleks and the Family of Blood kidnapping and copying a girl, Mary Ellis, who wasn't in the time she was supposed to be in. As I discovered the girl I had been protecting was actually a copy, the dream ended. Apparently it was a two part episode and I didn't dream the next episode.

I can justify and get excited about doing anything, and for the past few weeks I've been all gung-ho about having a career in the animal care industry.

I'm not having second thoughts about that, or anything really, just, wondering if I truly want a career in the animal care industry, or if I'm merely telling myself I do in order to get a job. Is it a career I'm looking for, or is it a skill set so that I can have a career and stability.

I think it's the latter now.

True, I love animals, and working with them would be a fine way to bring in an income, but do I really want that to be my life, and further: would I be able to take the heartbreak that comes with any job caring for sick and injured life. I get sad when I plant I tend to dies.

So, possibly, no. Possibly yes, as, thinking of it, the only things that have remianed consistantly interesting in my life are the arts (writer/music/drama/etc...), geeky things (video games, sci-fi shows, fantasy things, etc...) and animals. So, I think that: yes, animal care would be a good choice as a way to earn a living.

But I have been thinking seriosuly about my life, and where it is, etc... I'm relatively happy with it. I have time to write, I do my sketch comedy troupe thing, I go see bands I like, and even get to see my friends on occaison, when their lives intersect with mine. It's not so bad. Being unemployed sucks of course, and living with my parents is driving me crazy. I just can't be a person that does a job day in and day out that I don't absolutely love. TRU was ok because the people there were some fantastic people, but I just couldn't take it, and don't get me started on my 2 month stint in that horrible office.

And everything races around and around in my head, and I'm tired of the scenery, and I keep coming back to this crazy notion I had a year ago about TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages), and I think that if, over the period of a year, my mind keeps coming back to the same option, it's something I should seriously consider. And I think about how many doors that would open for me. Certainly there's a demand for itin NYC, so I woudln't have to leave the city that I love if I didn't want to - one where, right now, socially, I have a "scene" as the younglings would call it.

It also means that I am not tied down to NYC. It would give me that chance to travel and see the world, something I so desperatly want to do.

And I think how great it would be to spend 6 months in Thailand, a year in China, maybe even 6 months in France (if I'm lucky), having the coutries pay my passage to and from there, some places even providing housing, while I save money?

I'm almost 24, which means I'm almost 25. If I don't do this soon I'll never do it. I'll be 30, still living on Staten Island, and just another nameless face, doing the same job, day in, day out, miserable, and dreaming of a different life.

Domesticity isn't for me; it's fine for people who want it. People who want that life - being a housewife (or house husband), 2.5 kids in the suburbs should have that life. I won't begrudge them what's going to make them content, because they are not me; and while I do get these moments of wanting a house in the suburbs on tree-lines roads, walking the kids to school, Sunday dinners with the family, I also have visions of traveling the world before doing that.

It's admittedly a young, idealistic, dreamer's fantasy, full of hope and selfishness, but who am I living for? Right now I don't have a significant other in my life (which is neither something I pine for, nor something I dismiss, it just is), or children. I have friends and family. We are all each other's emotional support, but they don't rely on me for their livelihood - they don't depend on me to survive, so I think, given that, that being selfish and indulging in this fantasy, is something that maybe I should do. Can I stand a couple more months in retail to get the money for a course so I can get my certificate?

I think, with a goal and direction, something I've been notoriously lacking for the past two years, I could. And I think maybe I will do this now. And I wonder why it's taken so long for me to make a damn decision in my life.

Technorati : life

Tuesday morning, Gary Gygax died.
Guys, I can't really figure out how to put this utter feeling of loss into words. I mean, it's not as strong as if a friend or family member were to have died. But it is very sad nonetheless.
Gary Gygax, having created DnD, is responsible for a few friendships in my life. If it weren't for DnD, there wouldn't have been any other table-top rpg. No Vampire. I never would have met Christina or Jev. I probably woudnl't have ended up meeting the Pirates. True, there wouldn't have been some fallings outs that were nothing short of minor catasrophes, but that's life. I wouldn't trade in those good times for anything.
How many times have my friends at home gotten together to play Mage, or Mythus, or Vampire?
Highschool sucked for a lot of us, and playing V:tM was something to look forward to.
In life, the day-to-day is nothing short of monotonous, it's the same thing over and over again, but when we'd role play, it was something to look forward to. I don't know about the others, but I mostly looked forward to the excuse to get together; whether we played the game or not, we'd all be together, with the intent to play a game. It was like a minor weekly, or bi-monthly, holiday, where we'd all bring something for dinner, have dinner, maybe a drink, maybe dessert and play a few hours.
Good times.
Not that those times are gone now. Gary Gygax never directly influenced how people got together. It's jsut, without the man having lived in the first place, we wouldn't have done that.
Many people can remember their first experience with DnD, or a p&p rpg; and if you can understand that I (along with many other people) not only remember their first experience, but countless others after that - that in some way it formed who I am now, then you can understand what a loss it is for the creator of DnD to have died.
I guess, there are easier ways to put this, after all, you may not be a p&p geek.
Imagine if you found out that Hironobu Sakaguchi/Miyomoto died?
Imagine if David Bowie died?
Imagine... other famous people who had some influence over your life... imagine what you would feel if they died?
It's not a deep hurt. You probably never met them, never got to thank them; but it does feel like something is missing. It feels generally blue.
You take a deep sigh, and miss the person, and do something to honor them.
Of course, the only proper way to honor Gary Gygax is to break out the 1st ed. books and do a dungeon crawl.

Technorati : Gary Gygax

And I'm totally not being emo, I swear! I'm fine, I'm happy, if broke, I've just spent the entire day, in my room, at my computer, with a blanket wrapped around me, and the classic rock station playing on the radio. I wrote two sketches for next week's comedy troupe meeting, re-wrote them about 3 times, and re-re-re-re-worked my sketch from last week.

I found my Mad Hatter hat from AGES ago, and I'm wearing it, because, well, why not? I ate a perfectly ripe mango, and I haven't spoken one word to one person today. It's the kind of therapy you need sometimes.

Watch, the phone's going to ring, and it's going to be one of my friends, and my streak will be ruined.