(no subject)
I don't really know what kind of mood I'm in this morning. I had a dream about Rob last night. He became Japanese. What does that mean? I was with some family, including my Aunt Pauline whom I adore, and we were all planning this trip to Maine for some reason, and Rob said that he'd like to go, so I figured I'd take my car, take Rob and Nicole and stuff, along with my sister and her fam in another car. I went outside to tell this to Rob, and there was this big-people treehouse contraption, plastic as it were, and I climbed it, and there were these Japanese girls with their arms all over Rob but he ignored them, and when I came up to him, I sad with him, between his legs, and he held my hand, and curled up with me. It was at this point that he turned Japanese. (How do I know the difference between the different Asian races? Apparently dreams have this epiphany upon people) and then within this dream, I dreamt that I woke up, in the apartment, and told all of this to Rob, who in turn, was just playing his video games and didn't seem to care what I was talking about.
I think this dream means I'm just fucking with my own head. My own insecurities are playing up more than they should be. Rob's been distant because of his moodiness and his uncertainty of the future with the Navy/Army, and I in turn, take it personally, even though I never should take any of it personally, because guys are innately different creatures than females. We have this constant need of physical touch, of cuddling, of kissing, of something which involves physical contact with the one we love, whereas guys think being in the vicinity, i.e. the same room as their love, is more than adequete for showing their love. The fac that they can more than tolerate their prescence without growing irritated or bored shows their love. Part of me waxing intellectual on the topic is more to reassure myself, to let me know that I'm not crazy, to keep these cryptic dreams of Rob being Rob after I told him about my dream of him as a Japanese guy, and getting no response.. to keep these dreams from occuring again, and making me feel unloved when that is so far beyond the truth.
Beyond that, I've been going through my parents' love letters, and I got this idea for my project that I would read any voiceover of my mom's letters, and I would have Rob read my dad's letters. Some sort of self-reflecting kind of thing.. To further perpetuate the idea of me as having my mom's life. Something along those lines. I haven't decided if that is what will work best, but it sounded really cool when I first thought of the idea. But, the good thing is, me being off of Prednisone is slightly more clear-headed. Less depressed, definately, and my mind is swirling more than it was in days past. And this gorgeous spring weather is helping immensely. I meet with my teacher tomorrow and hopefully I'll come off as desparately wanting to accomplish this, but also with possibilities spurting in too many directions that I need his guidance, and he can show me which will help me best.
Wow. I sound smart. I've also been reading "Bitch" in which the author has an awesome writing style. She wants to sound smart, but in a smart-ass kind of way. She graduated from Harvard, so she is quite literate, but she's also a drug addict, who is always trying to prove herself, so she sounds smart, but not in a high class kind of way. She so rocks. There was an entire chapter about Amy Fischer, and comparisons to her life as a model to women who don't help their own, the feminist movement did nothing for her, even though she was just a scared child, etc. The next chapter is about suicidal women, plath, sexton, farmer, etc. and its so much fun to read (if you'll excuse the whole depressing angle).
Anyway. Too much of an entry for one day. I just wanted to get some thoughts out of my head.
I think this dream means I'm just fucking with my own head. My own insecurities are playing up more than they should be. Rob's been distant because of his moodiness and his uncertainty of the future with the Navy/Army, and I in turn, take it personally, even though I never should take any of it personally, because guys are innately different creatures than females. We have this constant need of physical touch, of cuddling, of kissing, of something which involves physical contact with the one we love, whereas guys think being in the vicinity, i.e. the same room as their love, is more than adequete for showing their love. The fac that they can more than tolerate their prescence without growing irritated or bored shows their love. Part of me waxing intellectual on the topic is more to reassure myself, to let me know that I'm not crazy, to keep these cryptic dreams of Rob being Rob after I told him about my dream of him as a Japanese guy, and getting no response.. to keep these dreams from occuring again, and making me feel unloved when that is so far beyond the truth.
Beyond that, I've been going through my parents' love letters, and I got this idea for my project that I would read any voiceover of my mom's letters, and I would have Rob read my dad's letters. Some sort of self-reflecting kind of thing.. To further perpetuate the idea of me as having my mom's life. Something along those lines. I haven't decided if that is what will work best, but it sounded really cool when I first thought of the idea. But, the good thing is, me being off of Prednisone is slightly more clear-headed. Less depressed, definately, and my mind is swirling more than it was in days past. And this gorgeous spring weather is helping immensely. I meet with my teacher tomorrow and hopefully I'll come off as desparately wanting to accomplish this, but also with possibilities spurting in too many directions that I need his guidance, and he can show me which will help me best.
Wow. I sound smart. I've also been reading "Bitch" in which the author has an awesome writing style. She wants to sound smart, but in a smart-ass kind of way. She graduated from Harvard, so she is quite literate, but she's also a drug addict, who is always trying to prove herself, so she sounds smart, but not in a high class kind of way. She so rocks. There was an entire chapter about Amy Fischer, and comparisons to her life as a model to women who don't help their own, the feminist movement did nothing for her, even though she was just a scared child, etc. The next chapter is about suicidal women, plath, sexton, farmer, etc. and its so much fun to read (if you'll excuse the whole depressing angle).
Anyway. Too much of an entry for one day. I just wanted to get some thoughts out of my head.