Only In Dreams
Start my new job in a couple of hours. That's it, you know. Tomorrow I officially "live and work" in Sevierville. I'm not fucking happy about it. I'll probably never see any of my friends again. This makes me feel like I'm finally here, I'm finally back. I work and live in a town I deplore. Lovely.
I feel like I'll never meet anyone here because anyone with two braincells moved away long ago. That isn't to say that there aren't people worth getting to know here, I'm sure they exist. But by and large I feel isolated and bored, lonely and frustrated. Sometimes the thought of being broke and destitute in Knoxville would be > than "saving money" in Sevierville.
I feel like for the duration of this process my life will essentially be put "on hold" until it begins again when I move out of here, hopefully back to Knoxville or, even better, to a place where I can study to be a helicopter pilot. I know you, dear reader, are probably tired of hearing those words (helicopter pilot) coming from me. I am too. I can't help it, it's how I feel. I want to do this but it seems to implausible, so unattainable...
I just have this awful feeling of having nothing for which to look forward. I'm starting this job that I'm not sure I'll ever enjoy at all. I know no one here. No one here knows me. I don't have any desire to "get out and meet people" because I know most of them from high school or grade school. Most people here I've already known and chosen not to continue to know. That is not to say that people can't change; they can certainly change. But here I am wishing my life had gone differently. Wishing my life had gone better.
Dave's little brother just graduted with his Masters in one thing and a Doctorate in some other thing. He's younger that I am and he's going to be very sucessful. That's great. I'm really happy for him. I cannot help, however, comparing his life to mine and, in doing so, I can't help but notice the difference between his life and mine: Hard work. Resolve. Determination. And yes, eventually success. Nothing ventured nothing gained, right? Story of my life.
I know, I know; I can sit here and complain about it or I can go out and DO SOMETHING, right? That's the old stalwart. That's my old nemesis: DO SOMETHING. I have no idea how to do fucking anything. I have no way in my mind to accomplish a god damned thing. I know, David would say that this is a defeatist attitude, that I sabotage my own shit before I even get started with that attitude, and he'd be right.
I am, and have been for some years now, paralyzed by fear. I am frightened and therefore unmotivated. These are things that, I have decided, can only be helped with the aid of a therapist. I am not happy about admitting this, it's just simply the case. I am going to have to speak to someone to try to figure out what it is that I need to do for myself. I know that no therapist can tell you what to do, that no shrink can figure out FOR YOU what needs to happen in your life. I'm just hoping someone can tell me where my deficiency lies, what my fucking malfunction is... if that's even possible.
I passed out for about four hours after dinner. I had this dream tonight that I was in this "Mos Def and Talib Kweli Museum". Hahah. I know, what the fuck, right? Anyway, it was one of those museums that's really dark, lots and lots of people. It was in, of course, Brooklyn. (HOOOOO!!!!, see dat?) Anyway I noticed these white girls all sitting together watching this documentary in one room about Dante (Mos) growing up in Roosevelt projects, Bedstuy (sp) NY. Sittng there with a group of her friends was a girl whom I thought was most lovely, most attractive.
Of course this was a dream because she was wearing pink fishnets and pink heels, a white top and a pink ribbon had her hair tied back. I noticed her and thought she was hot and moved on to the next room of the exhibit. She and her friends came into the next room and SHE noticed ME and came over and spoke to ME FIRST! Wow, now you KNOW it's a dream. Anyway I told her that I noticed her cute pink fishnets and her friends giggled. They indicated that fishnets were so her sense of style and sort of wandered off giggling, leaving her with me
What a beautiful dream! She was from there, from New York. Northerner. Hmmm. Anyway we sat and talked and invented the perfect video game together, just in conversation, just talking. We laughed, we played little word games; she was so witty! She kept making the most unbelieveable puns! I know that sounds lame but I really appreciate sharp feminine wit; it's one of the things I like most about women that I choose to date: they must have the Sharp Wit, no?
Anyway it was a wonderful, wonderful experience having that dream. It devoled, as most of my dreams do, into something weird and non-related. Or at least, I'm so unskilled at dream interpretation that I have no idea how things relate. At any rate the end of the dream consisted of she and I actually PLAYING, in the first person, the video game she and I came up with. It was a mixture of Battlefield: 1942 and Rise of Nations. I drove this anti-aircraft tank thing, kind of like a Flakpanzer from WWII. She drove this little scout vehicle and we wiled the day away shooting down Nazi Me-111s and Stukas.
The thing about this video game is that Nazi pilots had this 100% bail out success rate. Each pilot we shot down escaped so we had to keep exiting the vehicles to hunt them down on foot. We took no prisoners. Duh, it's a video game. Anyway one of the sexiest things I've ever seen a girl do (in my dream, here, or otherwise) is exit a vehicle with a .50 caliber Desert Eagle pistol (I know, those werent' around in WWII but it's MY DREAM so !) and take out Luftwaffe pilots at point-blank range.
Sounds silly right? Most dreams do. But I cannot properly convey the part of dreams that, to me, is 2/3rds of the entire experience; the FEELINGS, the IMPRESSIONS that one gets from having the dream, from "being there", from smelling and sensing all the emotions that are associated with dreams.
The reason that I share this dream with you, gentle reader, is because it is a fond memory by now. It's only a few hours old and yet I have begun to lose the details. It's sad, to me, because I cannot just recall the familiarity, the feelings that were so specific. Even as I write this I am already losing most of the details that made it endearing. I know that sounds like an oxymoron but you know how dream are, right? You lose them, they slip away.
And so I conclude by saying that this was one of what I like to call my Sustaining Dreams. The images and feelings, the impressions and experience was so touching and comfortable, so pleasing and nice that I choose to live there, in my mind, for an exptended time. Like tasting a new wine, enjoying it and looking forward to enjoying the rest. Even though the detail begin to elude me I'll take the fondness and happiness that I recall from this dream with me throughout my day tomorrow.
I can still see her face; brunette, smart curves of her nose, her cheeks. Brown eyes, lit up... sparkling. She held my hand first. You guys gotta know what I mean when I talk about that exhiliration that is felt when someone reaches for your hand to hold, and it's exciting. Am I explaining it properly? I felt this rush, this sensation of total excitement and joy.
This is what I shall take with me tomorrow when I head out the door to my new job, towards uncertainty. Undoubtedly there will be problems with misunderstandings, with not hearing someone. It happens to me all the time. Dave thinks I play up my hearing loss or perhaps use it "selectively" for my own purposes, but I genuinely don't hear people correctly a great percentage of the time. I infer a lot in daily conversation. Once I get used to the way people talk it usually clears up. But anyway these are some of the problems that I forsee. It's sometimes worse with people here in Sevierville becase of the hick-accent. Hrm.
But then I intend to sink back, in my head at least, to my brunette dream-girl; she who does not exist. She was taller than I, her hands and skin warm and inviting. I never even asked her name. Of course. And she never asked mine. Of course. And so I have no idea what to call her. She's a figment of my imagination, of course, but that doesn't stop the feeling, the idea that someone like her might exist for me some day.
I guess that's what is important; the belief that some day like that will come. Like Mollie says it's likely when I stop looking for it, it'll likely happen one day and take me completely by surpise, probably nothing at all what I described in my dream tonight. And that's what sustains me, the thoughts, the image, the hope and the faith that someday my princess will come. I know that sounds cheesy but I care not. Someday I truly believe a moment like this will occur.
Not that I'm holding out for some fairy-tale life without problems with some dream girl who is without flaw; not the case. I also do not mean to assert that by meeting some intelligent, wonderful woman that I'm bound to see all my problems end. I'm not that naive. I simply refuse to give up on love. I refuse to stop looking for the person who will end her search when I end mine, having met one another.
Because I haven't met her doesn't mean she doesn't exist. I'm not looking for my ideal, I have no set terms in my head. I just want to meet someone as easy to be with as this New York brunette from tonight's dream. I just want to meet someone with whom I feel as comfortable, as relaxed.
It is now 5:01 a.m. in hilly East Tennessee so I must sleep. If you've read this whole thing I must thank you. It was only my intention to get this stuff off my chest, not to have someone read it. But if you have then I say only this: If you love someone, if someone loves you, if you have a special person in your life with whom you choose to share yourself... cherish them. Love them wholly and unconditionally. Hug them. Kiss them. Don't ever let them go.
Goodnight, reader, and may your tomorrow contain that which you desire.
Tyler Steed McClure
I feel like I'll never meet anyone here because anyone with two braincells moved away long ago. That isn't to say that there aren't people worth getting to know here, I'm sure they exist. But by and large I feel isolated and bored, lonely and frustrated. Sometimes the thought of being broke and destitute in Knoxville would be > than "saving money" in Sevierville.
I feel like for the duration of this process my life will essentially be put "on hold" until it begins again when I move out of here, hopefully back to Knoxville or, even better, to a place where I can study to be a helicopter pilot. I know you, dear reader, are probably tired of hearing those words (helicopter pilot) coming from me. I am too. I can't help it, it's how I feel. I want to do this but it seems to implausible, so unattainable...
I just have this awful feeling of having nothing for which to look forward. I'm starting this job that I'm not sure I'll ever enjoy at all. I know no one here. No one here knows me. I don't have any desire to "get out and meet people" because I know most of them from high school or grade school. Most people here I've already known and chosen not to continue to know. That is not to say that people can't change; they can certainly change. But here I am wishing my life had gone differently. Wishing my life had gone better.
Dave's little brother just graduted with his Masters in one thing and a Doctorate in some other thing. He's younger that I am and he's going to be very sucessful. That's great. I'm really happy for him. I cannot help, however, comparing his life to mine and, in doing so, I can't help but notice the difference between his life and mine: Hard work. Resolve. Determination. And yes, eventually success. Nothing ventured nothing gained, right? Story of my life.
I know, I know; I can sit here and complain about it or I can go out and DO SOMETHING, right? That's the old stalwart. That's my old nemesis: DO SOMETHING. I have no idea how to do fucking anything. I have no way in my mind to accomplish a god damned thing. I know, David would say that this is a defeatist attitude, that I sabotage my own shit before I even get started with that attitude, and he'd be right.
I am, and have been for some years now, paralyzed by fear. I am frightened and therefore unmotivated. These are things that, I have decided, can only be helped with the aid of a therapist. I am not happy about admitting this, it's just simply the case. I am going to have to speak to someone to try to figure out what it is that I need to do for myself. I know that no therapist can tell you what to do, that no shrink can figure out FOR YOU what needs to happen in your life. I'm just hoping someone can tell me where my deficiency lies, what my fucking malfunction is... if that's even possible.
I passed out for about four hours after dinner. I had this dream tonight that I was in this "Mos Def and Talib Kweli Museum". Hahah. I know, what the fuck, right? Anyway, it was one of those museums that's really dark, lots and lots of people. It was in, of course, Brooklyn. (HOOOOO!!!!, see dat?) Anyway I noticed these white girls all sitting together watching this documentary in one room about Dante (Mos) growing up in Roosevelt projects, Bedstuy (sp) NY. Sittng there with a group of her friends was a girl whom I thought was most lovely, most attractive.
Of course this was a dream because she was wearing pink fishnets and pink heels, a white top and a pink ribbon had her hair tied back. I noticed her and thought she was hot and moved on to the next room of the exhibit. She and her friends came into the next room and SHE noticed ME and came over and spoke to ME FIRST! Wow, now you KNOW it's a dream. Anyway I told her that I noticed her cute pink fishnets and her friends giggled. They indicated that fishnets were so her sense of style and sort of wandered off giggling, leaving her with me
What a beautiful dream! She was from there, from New York. Northerner. Hmmm. Anyway we sat and talked and invented the perfect video game together, just in conversation, just talking. We laughed, we played little word games; she was so witty! She kept making the most unbelieveable puns! I know that sounds lame but I really appreciate sharp feminine wit; it's one of the things I like most about women that I choose to date: they must have the Sharp Wit, no?
Anyway it was a wonderful, wonderful experience having that dream. It devoled, as most of my dreams do, into something weird and non-related. Or at least, I'm so unskilled at dream interpretation that I have no idea how things relate. At any rate the end of the dream consisted of she and I actually PLAYING, in the first person, the video game she and I came up with. It was a mixture of Battlefield: 1942 and Rise of Nations. I drove this anti-aircraft tank thing, kind of like a Flakpanzer from WWII. She drove this little scout vehicle and we wiled the day away shooting down Nazi Me-111s and Stukas.
The thing about this video game is that Nazi pilots had this 100% bail out success rate. Each pilot we shot down escaped so we had to keep exiting the vehicles to hunt them down on foot. We took no prisoners. Duh, it's a video game. Anyway one of the sexiest things I've ever seen a girl do (in my dream, here, or otherwise) is exit a vehicle with a .50 caliber Desert Eagle pistol (I know, those werent' around in WWII but it's MY DREAM so !) and take out Luftwaffe pilots at point-blank range.
Sounds silly right? Most dreams do. But I cannot properly convey the part of dreams that, to me, is 2/3rds of the entire experience; the FEELINGS, the IMPRESSIONS that one gets from having the dream, from "being there", from smelling and sensing all the emotions that are associated with dreams.
The reason that I share this dream with you, gentle reader, is because it is a fond memory by now. It's only a few hours old and yet I have begun to lose the details. It's sad, to me, because I cannot just recall the familiarity, the feelings that were so specific. Even as I write this I am already losing most of the details that made it endearing. I know that sounds like an oxymoron but you know how dream are, right? You lose them, they slip away.
And so I conclude by saying that this was one of what I like to call my Sustaining Dreams. The images and feelings, the impressions and experience was so touching and comfortable, so pleasing and nice that I choose to live there, in my mind, for an exptended time. Like tasting a new wine, enjoying it and looking forward to enjoying the rest. Even though the detail begin to elude me I'll take the fondness and happiness that I recall from this dream with me throughout my day tomorrow.
I can still see her face; brunette, smart curves of her nose, her cheeks. Brown eyes, lit up... sparkling. She held my hand first. You guys gotta know what I mean when I talk about that exhiliration that is felt when someone reaches for your hand to hold, and it's exciting. Am I explaining it properly? I felt this rush, this sensation of total excitement and joy.
This is what I shall take with me tomorrow when I head out the door to my new job, towards uncertainty. Undoubtedly there will be problems with misunderstandings, with not hearing someone. It happens to me all the time. Dave thinks I play up my hearing loss or perhaps use it "selectively" for my own purposes, but I genuinely don't hear people correctly a great percentage of the time. I infer a lot in daily conversation. Once I get used to the way people talk it usually clears up. But anyway these are some of the problems that I forsee. It's sometimes worse with people here in Sevierville becase of the hick-accent. Hrm.
But then I intend to sink back, in my head at least, to my brunette dream-girl; she who does not exist. She was taller than I, her hands and skin warm and inviting. I never even asked her name. Of course. And she never asked mine. Of course. And so I have no idea what to call her. She's a figment of my imagination, of course, but that doesn't stop the feeling, the idea that someone like her might exist for me some day.
I guess that's what is important; the belief that some day like that will come. Like Mollie says it's likely when I stop looking for it, it'll likely happen one day and take me completely by surpise, probably nothing at all what I described in my dream tonight. And that's what sustains me, the thoughts, the image, the hope and the faith that someday my princess will come. I know that sounds cheesy but I care not. Someday I truly believe a moment like this will occur.
Not that I'm holding out for some fairy-tale life without problems with some dream girl who is without flaw; not the case. I also do not mean to assert that by meeting some intelligent, wonderful woman that I'm bound to see all my problems end. I'm not that naive. I simply refuse to give up on love. I refuse to stop looking for the person who will end her search when I end mine, having met one another.
Because I haven't met her doesn't mean she doesn't exist. I'm not looking for my ideal, I have no set terms in my head. I just want to meet someone as easy to be with as this New York brunette from tonight's dream. I just want to meet someone with whom I feel as comfortable, as relaxed.
It is now 5:01 a.m. in hilly East Tennessee so I must sleep. If you've read this whole thing I must thank you. It was only my intention to get this stuff off my chest, not to have someone read it. But if you have then I say only this: If you love someone, if someone loves you, if you have a special person in your life with whom you choose to share yourself... cherish them. Love them wholly and unconditionally. Hug them. Kiss them. Don't ever let them go.
Goodnight, reader, and may your tomorrow contain that which you desire.
Tyler Steed McClure