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Jan. 24th, 2001 06:58 amI had a dream that Oki and I were chatting in irc, only we were in the same room. It's hard to explain.
Anyhow, Oki sullenly said, "hey GB, I want to get out of here before you read my livejournal post...you are going to be really pissed off at me and probably won't ever talk to me again."
I was a bit confused and inquired as to why, but he left before answering. I was wondering wondering wondering what he had done to make me mad, but I realized I couldn't check his livejournal because I was in my apartment without internet access.
I woke up slowly with argumentative and defensive thoughts racing through my head as if I was being ostracized. I couldn't remember what I had been dreaming about before surfacing from my slumber, but my mind was conjuring ideas in masse. I could hear myself producing a mental diatribe about how I have countered and parried the many facades of stability over the course of my life that have been exposed as smoke and mirrors and dissident conditioning while very consciously defining my character. Yeah...my mind was flowing fanatically...angrycore.
I tried hard to remember what occurred after Oki had left in my dream and brought about the feeling of being under scrutiny. I couldn't. It really affected my mood after I was fully awake and aware...I bucked up, shook it off, and got ready to go get my picture taken at the newspaper.
The guy at the newspaper must have thought that I'd be amazed at their wondrous operation as he guided me to where the photographer was waiting. He lead me to the sports department and whispered, "that's Andy Amey." He looked at me and awaited my reaction, expecting me to be impressed..."Oh really?" was all I could come up with. Who the fuck is Andy Amey? I wasn't in a great mood. I know the guy meant well, but I didn't feel like being patronized. He was patronizing me appropriately: "those computers help make the newspaper, and those people are writers..." I used to work in for the high school newspaper...I'm not twelve years old...I'm not blatantly retarded...like I said, I know he meant well.
I went back home and sat down and relaxed for a little while...and the phone rang. I almost didn't answer it because I didn't figure it would be anyone I really wanted to talk to, but it was Bria Ravenhottie! I was smiling as soon as I recognized the fargo-ish vocal inflection (sorry Jehnay...I couldn't help it), and after an hour of talking I was so relaxed and happy that I went back to sleep =)
I found out when I got to work and looked at the paper that Andy Amey is one of the sports columnists. I chuckled to myself and said out loud, "who gives a rat's ass?" I was in a much better mood and thought it was kind of funny.
I'm finding myself easily exhilarated these days...hmmmmmmmm, I wonder why.
Anyhow, Oki sullenly said, "hey GB, I want to get out of here before you read my livejournal post...you are going to be really pissed off at me and probably won't ever talk to me again."
I was a bit confused and inquired as to why, but he left before answering. I was wondering wondering wondering what he had done to make me mad, but I realized I couldn't check his livejournal because I was in my apartment without internet access.
I woke up slowly with argumentative and defensive thoughts racing through my head as if I was being ostracized. I couldn't remember what I had been dreaming about before surfacing from my slumber, but my mind was conjuring ideas in masse. I could hear myself producing a mental diatribe about how I have countered and parried the many facades of stability over the course of my life that have been exposed as smoke and mirrors and dissident conditioning while very consciously defining my character. Yeah...my mind was flowing fanatically...angrycore.
I tried hard to remember what occurred after Oki had left in my dream and brought about the feeling of being under scrutiny. I couldn't. It really affected my mood after I was fully awake and aware...I bucked up, shook it off, and got ready to go get my picture taken at the newspaper.
The guy at the newspaper must have thought that I'd be amazed at their wondrous operation as he guided me to where the photographer was waiting. He lead me to the sports department and whispered, "that's Andy Amey." He looked at me and awaited my reaction, expecting me to be impressed..."Oh really?" was all I could come up with. Who the fuck is Andy Amey? I wasn't in a great mood. I know the guy meant well, but I didn't feel like being patronized. He was patronizing me appropriately: "those computers help make the newspaper, and those people are writers..." I used to work in for the high school newspaper...I'm not twelve years old...I'm not blatantly retarded...like I said, I know he meant well.
I went back home and sat down and relaxed for a little while...and the phone rang. I almost didn't answer it because I didn't figure it would be anyone I really wanted to talk to, but it was Bria Ravenhottie! I was smiling as soon as I recognized the fargo-ish vocal inflection (sorry Jehnay...I couldn't help it), and after an hour of talking I was so relaxed and happy that I went back to sleep =)
I found out when I got to work and looked at the paper that Andy Amey is one of the sports columnists. I chuckled to myself and said out loud, "who gives a rat's ass?" I was in a much better mood and thought it was kind of funny.
I'm finding myself easily exhilarated these days...hmmmmmmmm, I wonder why.
