Chest Hair and Underwear
Dreams are portals into the subconscious. Or at least that's what some hipster psychology major would say. My dreams have been more lucid in the past few weeks, though never coherent. I never, ever dream of familiar settings.
I dream of very lavish architecture. I wish my imagination for buildings was as active in my awake hours for surely I would be drawing blueprints as we speak.
My dreams are almost always pleasant, so much so that I feel utterly hopeless and disgusted when I open my eyes in the morning to see...my room. No freshwater floods or ancient greek spaseships, just a lamp, an alarm clock and a TV.
Last night I dreamt of a person I don't know personally, but who does exist, standing in the center of a town square. Like most of the buildings in my dreams, they were reminiscient of rennissiance paintings, though they also had a futuristic feel to them. That's all I can really remember.
The night before I dreamt I lost four of my back teeth. I checked 'The Dream Encyclopedia' for an explanation, and their resoning is that 'sinking our teeth' into something represents control, thus loosing one's teeth would mean that I feel as if I am loosing my power or control over an issue. Well...alright.
* * *
This weekend, A Clockwork Orange is playing at AMC Veteran's Theater at 12:20 A.M. Friday-Saturday. Anyone want to go?
* * *
I will be 19 in about a month. This means absolutely nothing except that I'll be able to get beer much quicker. That also means nothing because I don't drink a lot of beer, but it's always nice to know you can if you're ever at Wing House.
The other thing about getting older? Chest hair. I'm getting this heart shaped patch over my pecs (or lack thereof) and I am starting to feel akward when wearing buttoned shirts. It's hairy enough to be visible, not enough for me to look Italian (which makes it okay), so I'm stuck looking like a lanky teen who can hardly grow hair on his face, let alone his chest.
But who really wants to read about my body hair, anyway?
Speaking of my body, I get to go to the doctor's again tomorrow. After a week of waiting, I'll get to find out the results of my blood tests and EKG. Once again, this could possibly mean certain death OR it could mean that my doctor is a worry-wart, much like myself. I'm not too concerned with it, because it something were seriously wrong, I'd be in a fetal position 24/7, holding my stomach like that one time when I had a virus and good lord it was painful.
This is what I am hoping the doctor will say:
"It turns out you have superpowers and the only reason you haven't been able to access them is because you need the secret password and it is _______!!!11"
But I will settle for:
"You are fine for the most part."
And so are you guys too.
Alex
I dream of very lavish architecture. I wish my imagination for buildings was as active in my awake hours for surely I would be drawing blueprints as we speak.
My dreams are almost always pleasant, so much so that I feel utterly hopeless and disgusted when I open my eyes in the morning to see...my room. No freshwater floods or ancient greek spaseships, just a lamp, an alarm clock and a TV.
Last night I dreamt of a person I don't know personally, but who does exist, standing in the center of a town square. Like most of the buildings in my dreams, they were reminiscient of rennissiance paintings, though they also had a futuristic feel to them. That's all I can really remember.
The night before I dreamt I lost four of my back teeth. I checked 'The Dream Encyclopedia' for an explanation, and their resoning is that 'sinking our teeth' into something represents control, thus loosing one's teeth would mean that I feel as if I am loosing my power or control over an issue. Well...alright.
* * *
This weekend, A Clockwork Orange is playing at AMC Veteran's Theater at 12:20 A.M. Friday-Saturday. Anyone want to go?
* * *
I will be 19 in about a month. This means absolutely nothing except that I'll be able to get beer much quicker. That also means nothing because I don't drink a lot of beer, but it's always nice to know you can if you're ever at Wing House.
The other thing about getting older? Chest hair. I'm getting this heart shaped patch over my pecs (or lack thereof) and I am starting to feel akward when wearing buttoned shirts. It's hairy enough to be visible, not enough for me to look Italian (which makes it okay), so I'm stuck looking like a lanky teen who can hardly grow hair on his face, let alone his chest.
But who really wants to read about my body hair, anyway?
Speaking of my body, I get to go to the doctor's again tomorrow. After a week of waiting, I'll get to find out the results of my blood tests and EKG. Once again, this could possibly mean certain death OR it could mean that my doctor is a worry-wart, much like myself. I'm not too concerned with it, because it something were seriously wrong, I'd be in a fetal position 24/7, holding my stomach like that one time when I had a virus and good lord it was painful.
This is what I am hoping the doctor will say:
"It turns out you have superpowers and the only reason you haven't been able to access them is because you need the secret password and it is _______!!!11"
But I will settle for:
"You are fine for the most part."
And so are you guys too.
Alex