Dreams: Head Cancer & Sandwiches

I'm sitting/lying in an operating chair in a doctor's office that is particularly cold and sterile. Metallic blue is the prominent color of the room. The doctor, stereotypically sporting a white coat and glasses, rolls up on his stool alongside me and delivers the bad news: I have cancer in my head. I don't recall exactly what KIND of cancer -- I remember thinking it was similar to leukemia -- but in any case, it was in my noggin.

Suddenly I'm in the lobby of the doctor's office to discuss insurance info, schedule a return appointment, etc. My mom has joined me at this point and is sitting at my left as we talk to the nurse on duty. She wasn't with me to receive the bad news, so she is still sort of unaware of what's going on. I'm nonchalantly chomping on a PB&J sandwich -- which I'm rather enjoying, actually. I am sensing a sort of nervousness as the nurse explains the possibilities and costs of treatments (including radiation), but my PB&J has me so satisfied that it's hard for me to stay focused on my own, dire health situation (if you knew how moist the bread was, perhaps you wouldn't be chuckling at me right now).

My mother is clearly confused. For some reason she keeps thinking the nurse's discussion regarding cancer treatments is for HER, and she keeps trying to figure out why the nurse would be telling her this instead of talking about ME. As I approach the last third of my sandwich, I realize that it's probably time I tell my dear mom what's going on -- but I don't want to have to wait to down the rest of this delicious meal!

Here is where I reach the climax of the dream-dilemma: delivering important news to my mother that will clarify some vague-yet-dreary information VS. finishing the best peanut butter & jelly sandwich in the history of mankind. Seriously, this is a tough choice to make in a matter of seconds!

Deciding I can make this a win-win situation, I cram the rest of the food into my mouth and, betwixt some rather painstaking chews, explain to my mother what's going on. Miraculously she can understand my muffled words, and isn't taking the news nearly as hard as I thought she would.

With my last swallow, the nurse gives a few quotes for what our medical expenses are going to be like. This is where the stress really sets in. Furiously upset by how high a price it is to treat cancer, I stand up and throw an empty paper cup toward a trash bin as if the cup were a rock and the bin were the living room window of every person who perpetuates the printing of Family Circus comics. As I do this I scream, "WHY IS IT SO EXPENSIVE FOR SOMEONE TO DIE?!"

The cup overshoots the bin and lands at the feet of a line of people waiting their turn to see the doctor. While they sort of look at the ground to figure out what just bounced against their legs, I calmly approach them, retrieve the cup, and gently place it in the bin.

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Dreams: Fragments

I am sometimes saddened by my infrequent posting on the blog. My wit seems to be running low these days. My dreams haven't been as memorable the last month or two, but as I've learned that recording them helps fuel my ability to recall them, here are a couple bits of some more recent hallucinations:

In one dream, I am at a retreat that my local church congregation hosted a couple months ago in a very woodsy area. I am standing just outside my cabin, saying goodbye to my friend Zach as he walks down the ramp away from me. Happy-go-lucky Zach stops quite suddenly and slowly turns to reveal a look of utter shock and horror on his face. His chest appears to be bleeding profusely, as a blood spot begins to grow, but stops once it reaches about 8 inches in length across his pecs. His legs give out and he collapses to the ground, at which point I rush to him and start yelling for help. A lot of the other details are lost to me, but I remember learning that he has a heart condition (which doesn't explain why blood was pouring out of his torso) and he ends up being okay, which is a relief to the girl who sits dutifully at his side until he gets better.

In dream numero dos, I find myself in an awkward relationship with a friend of mine who wants to be more than just friends, but towards whom I have no real romantic sentiment. She, I, Cabeza, our friend David and some other folks whose faces I've forgotten decide to hit up Disneyland, and upon reaching the park I discover that it's gone to pot since the last time I've been there (which was actually last month in real life): mud slicks all over the roads, weeds and overgrown forests all over the park, and even large bodies of water overtaking the establishment. Deciding that a large river rushing through Frontierland isn't a total loss, we opt for a swim. Approaching the bank, we discover that there's already a lot of traffic heading downstream, so someone in our group grabs a rope with some buoys attached and tows it across the width of the river, stopping traffic and giving us adequate space to play. I can remember getting in the water and feeling the slightly-chilly water surround my legs, a girl in the group complaining that it's too cold as I shrug my shoulders in retort. It's shortly after this moment that I'm awakened in real life by my roommate entering the basement/my bedroom where I've been napping and exclaiming, "Holy crap! It's FREEZING in here!" just before turning the corner to see me on my bed. I'm terribly confused by finding myself in a location other than an actual river where I'm supposed to be swimming, and it takes me about five seconds to register what is going on. Apparently my roommate comes around the corner to find me staring quite blankly into space, in such a manner that he's actually concerned about my well-being, but once everything clicks into place in the trusty noggin, we each heave a sigh of relief. I'm not dead.

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TightShirt

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90210

I made this for a skit I wrote and performed in front of my local church congregation over the weekend. The premise of the skit was that I was the only member of a group of people who didn't know the words of common TV show themes such as "Duck Tales" or "Fresh Prince," but I awkwardly tried to sing along anyways, always disappointing by throwing in the wrong lyrics. When someone calls me out on it, I claim to know all the words to "90210," which they scoff at (since the show's theme had no words). I proceed to apparently make up a theme on the spot, which makes no sense, and they tell me to sit down as they flip on the TV to find the new "90210" series on. The audience hears the actual theme song:

Nothing amazing, but a fun little project I thought I'd share.

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Casting a Shark Biographical Movie: Mom, Part II

My dad sent me a photo of my mom at a younger age, and here are the results:


This time around gave a few great options for actresses who could portray a young version of my mother. Bryce Howard, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, and Charlize Theron are all good actresses who, with proper makeup and hair dye, could play my mom pretty well, I think. I am partial to Julia, mostly because I've seen more of her fun side that tells me she could reflect that important part of my mom's personality really well.

Cabeza also recommended that Present-Day Mom could be portrayed by Sally Field. An excellent suggestion, I think. Sally has this sort of motherly persona about her these last couple of decades, and she's super-cute to boot. Possibly a better selection than Wonder Woman, and most likely a better actress.

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Casting a Shark Biographical Movie: Ted and Amy

It seems that, after two excellent experiences finding matches through MyHeritage.com, the luck has run out for my sister and brother-in-law:


What a horrible list of results! Tom Welling?! JASON PRIESTLEY?! Come on! Give me someone who actually LOOKS like Ted and can act decently! Donny Osmond does NOT look like my brother-in-law!

Upon thinking about it, I actually really liked the idea of casting Brendan Fraser in the role, if he were to bulk up a bit and have a good director help him increase his range on camera. But I don't think that's a perfect fit. Ted needs someone who is big, tall, burly, and can change from being abrupt and aggressive to goofy and sarcastic, and sometimes even a sort of "gentle giant." Ted jokingly told me not to consider Jack Black in the comments of an earlier post. Jack would need to be a little taller, a little manlier, and have a much better acting range in order to fill this part. Fraser is a better choice than Black.

Amy is an even more difficult person to cast. I abhorred EVERY option presented to me by MyHeritage.com. I'm totally stuck on this one. This would need to be a short, blonde girl with a fun personality and who likes to talk, but knows how to lay down the law when necessary. She also needs to be a natural with kids. Any ideas here?

So far I'm thinking that Ted MIGHT be played by Brendan Fraser, but most likely we'd have to cast unknowns for both of these family members.

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Casting a Shark Biographical Movie: Jenn

Another fantastic result from MyHeritage.com (yet a poorly-treated photo -- sorry, Jenn):

Evangeline Lilly! Yes! Most popularly known to the world as Kate on Lost, here's another comparison I had never thought of. She needs to dye her hair red, but she's got the freckles and is downright gorgeous, which makes her an excellent candidate for the role. And, again, I don't think she's necessarily an incredible actress, but she's shown her ability to perform a wide range of emotions and, even though she's younger than Jenn, she could easily make herself look 7 years older than she is.

Melissa Gilbert, who played Laura Ingalls on Little House on the Prairie, would also be a great choice if she was about ten years younger. Though I am unaware of how her acting skills have developed or declined over the last quarter century...

I feel like Molly Ringwald was thrown in there just because of the similar hair color. I mean, really, aside from that, does she really look all that similar to my sister? No way. And she's a little too old.

Amanda Bynes? Ugh...

And although she wasn't an option, Julianne Moore would have worked as well, if she was about ten years younger (her age has really begun to show the last five years or so). A lot of people comment on how much our mom and Jenn looked alike when my mom was a lass in her prime, so it wouldn't be shocking to have the same actresses audition for both parts in some cases.

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Casting a Shark Biographical Movie: Mom

For once, MyHeritage.com gives me a result that blows my mind in how perfect it is:

Lynda Carter! Known primarily for her starring role in the Wonder Woman television series back in the day, I've never even considered how much she looks like a supermodel version of my mother. It's uncanny! At least, it is to me. She's a classy broad. Not an AMAZING actress, but I think with some decent directing and a good makeup/hair artist, she could really fill the role well. She also happens to be the same age as my mother, though I think my mom LOOKS a lot younger than our friend Lynda from recent photos I've been able to find of Carter.

To even the scales of how well they did with the first choice, however, it seems that MyHeritage decided to throw out a few faces in the middle that just don't make any sense. Oprah Winfrey? REALLY? And Katie Couric? Does the computer not take into account how amazingly annoying Couric is? Even looking at her photo is irritating. Sigh.

Julianne Moore isn't a bad option, though. My mother isn't a redhead, but if we dyed her hair and went back in time a few years, I could easily see Moore playing a younger version of Mom. She's got the acting skills and knows how to be fun ("Evolution") and maternal ("The Forgotten" -- and Heaven forbid I ever reference that movie ever again).

That last sentence has made me think of something: could Lynda Carter pull off my mother's fun personality? My mom has a reputation for being downright goofy at times, and was never afraid to play with us (even if we didn't want to be played with). I credit a lot of my crazy antics to Madre and her nutty sense of humor. I haven't seen that side of Lynda Carter yet, and I think that would be an important part of my mom to capture in a film about my life, so she might get the boot if she can't work it out. But who knows? I mean, she DID let herself get filmed in that silly costume for a number of years.

(On a sidenote, I don't like how MyHeritage handled the photo of my mom. They made it look kind of gross... The actual picture of her looks much nicer!)

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Casting a Shark Biographical Movie: Dad

So this is pretty ridiculous:

As much as I'd love to have some sex appeal in a movie about my life, I somehow don't think Kirsten Dunst could really capture the man that is my father adequately.

If I were to pick someone to portray my father, it would be Ned Beatty. Known in my family for playing the part of the bumbling sidekick Otis in "Superman: The Movie," Ned Beatty is actually a very diverse actor who has proven his skill in roles such as the father in "Rudy." In fact, I think the role in that film is what causes me to draw the connection between the two men.

There is a scene near the end of the film where Rudy's parents and brother come to see him in his first (and only) game that he actually gets to play on the field at Notre Dame. His father is in awe when he sees the field, having been a huge Notre Dame fan his entire life yet never getting to see a live game. Up until this point, he's sort of skeptical about Rudy being a real "football player" for the team. But when Rudy sacks the QB, the crowd goes nuts, and perhaps the loudest screamer is his father, Ned Beatty, jumping up and down, pumping his fists in the air and proudly exclaiming to everyone around him, "That's my son! My son!" I actually get really choked up every time I see that part of the climax.

My dad has always been one of the major cheerleaders in my life, sending me constant e-mails throughout college to express his faith in me, and writing me more regularly than anyone else while I was on my mission for two years. I've loved having that support.

So Ned Beatty it is. I think he even looks a little like my dad, which helps, of course.

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Casting a Shark Biographical Movie, Part I

We've all thought this before: "If someone were to make a movie about me, who would get the lead role?" I plan on one-upping that. I'm going to make a series of posts casting all the major characters in a movie about my life thus far (and perhaps in the future, as well).


The above image is displaying the celebrities that supposedly look the most like me. I actually found the link to this site from my friend Martha, who apparently looks like Amanda Bynes, according to a computer.

Best result: Charlton Heston! Who'd have thought? Can you imagine having him portray ME in a film? "Call me THE Shark, you damn, dirty ape!" In all honesty, though, I just don't see it. Heston was a great actor, but his build is too wiry and bony to portray me.

Granted, I think the photo I used is a little goofy. I might try re-computing with a different photo later. I believe the computer focused on finding celebrities with big noses and overbites.

What struck me as funny is that I only knew the two celebrities who were given the lowest percentage in my results! I haven't bothered looking up all of them, but what I will tell you is that my celebrity twin, Yossi Benayoun, is an Israeli soccer player for the Liverpool FC team. The fact that overseas athletes are granted celebrity status on this site drops its coolness factor (wouldn't most people rather be entertained by being compared to Judge Wapner or, heck, the Olsen Twins?), but it sufficed for giving me someone to cast in the lead role of "The Shark Movie":

Gary Busey. Well, he would be cast as FUTURE me, but I could totally see him pulling it off. Overbite? Check. Eccentric mentality? Double check ("Drinking your own blood is the paradigm of recycling." Honest, he really said that.). Plus, he's a proven actor. He's been a villain ("Lethal Weapon"), a nutty private investigator ("The Firm"), and, perhaps the role most telling of his abilities, he pulled off an excellent portrayal of Buddy Holly in the 1978 film, "The Buddy Holly Story".

I was about to delve into my personality qualities that I feel like Busey could capture really well, but I felt like I was typing some sort of profile for a matchmaking website. I'll just end this post by saying that I hope I grow up in a way that Busey could adequately portray me. This is my dream -- nay, my very purpose.

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Dreams: Calvinist Mormons

Warren, Cabeza and I, for some unknown reason, are moving back into Y-Front, the two-story house we shared in college with five other roommates. We walk into the old place, and the sense of nostalgia is overwhelming. I excitedly turn to the white board that served to keep our messages to each other, divided 8 ways to give each of us our own little section. I'm really looking forward to staking my claim back on the lower right hand corner, and begin reaching for cleaning supplies to wipe off the old content and reestablish myself as an official denizen. I find a sheet of paper folded in half, taped to the board with my name written on it, and I set it aside as I begin scrubbing the board. However, I soon find that I've scrubbed so hard that the white layer of board has worn down to the brown backing!

Frustrated at having ruined a priceless artifact that has brought so much personality to Y-Front's front room, I decide to open the paper that had been addressed to me. Removing the tape, I find that it is a letter, addressed by Bishop Walker (the leader of the local church congregation), extending a calling to me. Apparently the news that we were moving back into the ward had spread, and he was ready with a responsibility for me right away. Impressed by his proactiveness in getting callings filled, I searched the rest of the letter to find in what capactiy I was being asked to serve: "The Deep Sorrows, Wailing & Moaning, Remorse, Confession of Sins and Lying Prostrate on the Earth Committee" (I actually don't remember the exact wording/order of the name for the committee, but it included at least some of these words and was very long).

The committee was essentially in charge of what the long name describes: ensuring that the ward members were reminded of their constant miserable state as mortals and were driven to repentance and salvation through fear and exploitation of the spiritual distance in their relationships with God. Jared and I had apparently heard that the ward had made a committee like this, and although we didn't want anything to do with it, we felt it wasn't a big enough deterrent to keep us from moving back in.

But now I was being asked to officially be a part of it, and I'm not sure at first how exactly I am going to respond. I've never turned down a calling before, and it feels awkward contemplating the act of looking my bishop in the eyes and telling him to find someone else. However, I can't support a movement to drive fear and guilt into the hearts of my friends and tear them down!

I glance again at the letter and notice that the bishop has included a schedule of regular extracurricular Sunday meetings the committee hosts. Each of them lasts about an hour, and each revolves around a different set of scriptures that serve to frighten sinners. Some sessions are labeled as being more intense than others, and there are also sessions in multiple languages, including Spanish, Italian, German and Japanese.

As I read through the descriptions of these meetings, flashing visions are shown to me of what they are like. I have an aerial view of people surrounding an outside platform/stage, an individual addressing them all with a microphone, pointing a finger at the crowd and vigorously calling everyone to sink into the depths of despair in order to better know God. Some individuals do as the committee's name suggests and begin to literally lie prostrate on the ground, many individuals are moaning and screaming. Some people are making their way up to the stage so they can borrow the microphone and proclaim their sins to everyone present. A lot of crying, and a really depressing bunch of kids.

When I snap out of it, still staring at the letter, I become determined to confront Bishop Walker and tell him that I won't do it, and I explain to Cabeza the dilemma while Warren sits on the front porch reading a book, his feet kicked up on the old, dusty couch we keep out there.

Shortly after this I wake up, though there are other vague details I can't clearly recall, one of which involved going to church with Cabeza, where we stood on a tower made of logs and looked down at the sacrament meeting taking place on the same stage that my visions had taken me to.

Analysis:

• Right before going to bed last night I finished reading the first chapter of Rough Stone Rolling, a biography of Joseph Smith. This chapter detailed the background of his parents and grandparents, and discussed the dramatic religious reawakening that was sweeping the States at the time. A part that really stood out to me discussed the Calvinist influence, specifically when one preacher attempted to take advantage of Lucy Mack Smith during a serious illness she had, when she was very susceptible to recognizing the "great chasm" between herself and the Lord. The preacher wanted to exploit that in order to preach salvation to her (which is somewhat ironic as Lucy Mack was already very proactive in seeking the best way to come unto God). The Calvinist expressions detailed in this chapter surely affected my dream.
• Y-Front was the house I lived in for the longest stretch of my college career. Warren and Cabeza are both old roommates who I see regularly because they live with or near me in the DC area now.
• Bishop Walker was my ward's high counselor when I was still there, and we worked pretty closely together do to another calling I had at the time. Shortly after I left the ward he was asked to be the bishop.
• I think I might have some subconscious feelings that the ward was going to pot around the time I left. I don't really think less of the people who are there now, but I probably would feel like it wasn't as cool as it used to be if I ever tried to move back.
• While there certainly haven't been any committees like this one in any ward I've ever been in, I certainly have seen my fair share of committees that I didn't support whole-heartedly. For example, one ward I was in at BYU decided to have a committee devoted to setting people up on dates and get married. I wasn't a fan.

Conclusion:
While it's important to recognize one's weaknesses and become humble before God, endorsing public displays of spiritual fear and misery are totally against the Gospel that I know. And Bishop Walker may be an apostate.

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Dreams: Office Romance and Diablos

This dream was pretty segmented, in at least three parts, so I'm going to share it in its segmented form. It happens that each segment gets better than the last:

PART I: The Roll Bar
I'm driving a Jeep Cherokee-esque vehicle down I-15 in Utah at night. My old roommate Darl is riding shotgun, and other old roommate Isaac is in the back seat. We're going about 65 mph when a rather unexpected sharp turn seemingly leaps in front of the car! I quickly try to follow the sudden curve, but the car careens off the road and rolls multiple times at high speed, stopping in an upright position.

I shake my head a couple times as I gather my bearings. I'm now in the back seat with Isaac, but other than being a little startled, I'm perfectly alright. Darl and Isaac are fine, too, and as I crawl back into the driver's seat I comment, "Wow, thank heavens we have a roll bar on this Jeep!" I return the keys to the ignition and am about to turn it when I realize that we've ended up at some sort of house party, and the ground surrounding us is covered in snow. I flag down some random drunk guy to lock the hubs on my front tires, then I pop the Jeep into four wheel drive and get back on the road as if nothing has happened.


PART II: Love in a Cube
I'm chilling at work when a female coworker of mine (who shall go unnamed) comes over and begins talking to me. Before I know it, we're kissing! It's just simple kissing and cuddling, but it becomes a major distraction because, while all this is going on, I'm trying to format and distribute a press release that needs to go out before I can go home. By the time her hormones are calming down a bit, she comments on how this is the second time she's become involved in an office romance, and the first time (which was at a former workplace) ended really awkwardly. She seems a bit apprehensive about pursuing a similar relationship based on this past experience.

The next thing I know, she's taking me to a bar for a date. Odd thing is, meeting us at the front door is her OLD office flame, some dark-complexioned schmo with a buzzed head and mustache. It's become apparent to me that she wanted to take us both out at the same time so she could compare and choose who she'd rather date. At first this sets me off a bit, but as we enter the bar my more conscious self pipes in and I realize that I don't even have real romantic feelings for this coworker, so why on earth should I be concerned? With this new mindset, I still feel a little awkward being on such an unconventional date, but I'm much more at ease.

We enter the spacious tavern and walk toward the back of it to find a table. Female Coworker selects one, and as I sit down I look up to find that Darl is already seated at the same table, goofy grin in place, beginning to laugh in his very Darl way (hearty chuckles and convulsions that cause his entire upper body to bounce up and down) in reaction to my surprised facial expressions. The odds of the date are now three to one.

Female Coworker and Third Wheel each order some food and some super-fancy alcoholic mixes that involve a lot of kiwis and little umbrellas. Darl and I ask for water. I'm still mulling over the weirdness of the whole situation when I look to one side of the room and see a busboy in a baseball cap sweeping the floor with his back to me. He works his way backwards, so that with each sweep he is a foot or so closer, until eventually he's right behind me. He then turns around and looks up just enough for me to see his face under the bill of his hat: it's my friend David, a fellow Seattle-ite who is now living in New York City. He winks at me, smiles, and reassuringly whispers, "Don't worry, Mark. I've got your back covered!" and at that he puts his head back down and begins sweeping again. (Sidenote: David is one of my only friends who can get away with calling me by my given name, as he's known me since I was 2 years old, before my nickname existed.)

At this point I give into hysterical laughter. I'm able to recognize the random humor that a friend from NYC came down to DC, undercover as a busboy, to protect me during my awkward circumstances. I erupt into further roaring as I notice another familiar figure on the OTHER side of the room, ALSO posing as a busboy in a baseball cap: my brother, Cabeza, who is likewise sweeping the floor systematically, glancing up every few seconds to keep an eye out for danger.

Somewhere in there I also notice JKC, another old roommate, present in the bar, laughing about something. It seems that I'm at the center of an elaborate scheme. But there's no time to see how it plays out, because the next thing I remember, the dream changes to...


PART III: Abstraction of a Theory
For the second time in recent dream memory, I find myself a character in a medieval video game. I'm in a team with four or five other protagonists, and we're storming a cursed castle. As we walk down the stone hallways, blanketed in blues and blacks broken only by the orange of dying torches every ten yards or so, I take note of the various monsters standing guard at various doorways and on patrol. Some are large, fat and white, others are dark, hairy, horned and on all fours.

Without warning, my team is attacked! I unsheathe a dagger and begin hacking away. Other teammates respond a little more slowly, but soon everyone is in a fight for their lives as more and more monsters come rushing at us. One by one, the monsters tear down an opponent. We are managing to take out quite a few beasts in the chaos, but they outnumber us greatly. I'm soon the only survivor, and after a few cleverly-placed traps that freeze all my attackers for a few seconds, I take off running down to the dungeon level of the castle in a last-ditch effort to survive.

Upon reaching the dungeon, I throw myself into a room without bothering to see what it is, hoping to evade my pursuers. I'm startled by deep, echoing cackles. I turn to find a giant minotaur-like creature staring at me from the other end of a large ballroom. I turn again to find the doors I just passed through closing on me! I've unwittingly stumbled upon the final boss of the castle, without any teammates for backup!

Fearing for my life, and in perhaps the most abstract moment my imagination has ever taken me to, my conscious psyche literally picks up my avatar and throws him out the doors just before it's too late. The representation of my consciousness is now safe outside the danger zone, but my psyche is still in the presence of a mythical demon, and I sense great risk.

The great beast begins to charge my awareness, and the only way I can think to avoid certain destruction is to suddenly find myself taking physical form as myself once more (NOT simply an avatar from the game), ripping open my shirt and punching in a sequence of numbers on a touch pad located on my chest. As soon as I enter the final digit, a white door with an exit sign above appears on the wall. I rush to the door, taking note of the bright daylight coming in through its window, and quickly escape the castle.

Now back in a non-video game state, I find that the other side of the door is a bus station. But something's not right -- it's somehow inhuman. I climb the wall of a nearby brick building in an effort to hide, and soon a bus pulls up -- full of red-skinned demons!

Sensing that I need to act before they have a chance to gain the upper hand, I pounce from my perch onto the top of the bus. I swing from the front so that I am dangling in front of the windshield, staring the bus driver in the face. He's a slightly chunkier demon, with a bald spot and glasses. He doesn't look very threatening at all, in fact. Realizing that I'm not about to get into another battle, I hop down to the ground again and find a golf cart approaching me. As it pulls up, I see its occupants are three demons who, in an oddly-natural morph, change into smiling Mexicans. They're super-friendly guys and we talk for a bit in Spanish.

Then I wake up, and the first thing I do is smile and laugh at the thought of David and my brother posing as busboys in an undercover operation to rescue me from an awkward date.

Analysis:

• I honestly don't get the whole pseudo-romance with my coworker (and, if you happen to be a coworker who is reading this, no -- it's not you), as I am not attracted to her like that at all. We've been g-chatting lately at work just to keep each other from getting too bored, so I'm guessing that our friendship has caused her to take a role in this dream of mine.
• The video game aspects must stem from some of my final thoughts I had last night before going to bed. As I was doing some book reading, I thought a bit to myself about how I haven't really played online for the past couple weeks, and that I'm a little bored with the game.
• I really find it interesting that my psyche separated from my avatar and protected it. If you have ever studied video game theory, you'll understand where I'm coming from. The avatar is essentially the embodiment of your persona when playing a video game, and, especially when the point of view is directly behind or in-the-eyes-of the avatar, some video game theories state that the player's consciousness extends to the avatar. Super meta stuff going on in this dream here.
• I think the demonic bus station is influenced by all the "Hellboy II" advertising I've been seeing lately. The demons looked a lot like they could have jumped right out of the movie. It's funny because I've never seen the first "Hellboy," nor am I really all that interested in doing so. Effective advertising?

Conclusion:
Medieval fantasy dreams aren't nearly as fun as superhero dreams.

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What is Art?

I made a person today. His name is Sven Obsequio. This counts as creativity, right?

Thanks to Amanda for the idea. That's what an online dating service gets when they spam a listserve -- spam in their membership.

Oh, and Sven got an e-mail from them stating that his profile would be featured for an entire month on their main page. With luck, Sven will be engaged by the end of summer!

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Flashback: Plastic Man

In an effort to appease the masses, here's a drawing I did ten years ago for an online contest to recreate silver age comic covers. Silver age comics were known for having one or more characters exclaiming something, often to the reader -- which is what I was going for here. Other silver age elements include: having the threatened hero positioned dramatically in the foreground while the villain looks on in the back; images and events that never occur in the pages of the story; and the sidekick/friend betraying the title character.

I didn't win the competition, but I remember having fun putting this together. I didn't participate in art contests very often. One unfortunate choice I made was to scan this in as a bitmap (I don't have an original JPEG version), so the resolution is kind of funky.

And, yes, this is definitely a Simpsons reference.

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Dreams: The Nightmare Manifests in Reality

Most of the details of this dream escape me. I'm sitting in my parents' old condo in Renton, Washington, watching a fictional film about a plague that's overtaking the planet. Apparently the disease is spread by domesticated animals, as there are long lines of people with their pets, waiting to be inspected by a team of veterinarians in a warehouse that operates as a makeshift animal hospital/quarantine. Depending on the animals' conditions, different series of tests are performed, each set done by a different vet.

The only specific owner/pet we see is a dark-haired woman in her 30s cuddling a small, black and white kitten. She's very upset by her surroundings and attempts to undermine the system by skipping immediately to a second set of tests (I'm not sure why this was a logical thing to do, except that it seemed apparent that by doing so she felt she was rescuing her animal), but the doctors swarm her in a flurried attempt to maintain order. The now-detained woman screams and cries as the film cuts between her kitten's inspection and her hysterical face.

The dream turns suddenly nightmarish as the film cuts to a second warehouse full of infected civilians. It seems that the only way to keep the disease from spreading is to eliminate the sick and burn their corpses. Each victim is tied to a support shaft in the large building and are told that they will be administered a lethal injection that will allow them to pass painlessly.

This is a cold lie.

The sickness is so contagious that the demand is too high for the necessary chemicals to be distributed worldwide. Instead, the bound victims curiously watch as some sort of liquid is sprayed at their feet by a man with a chemical sprayer. They soon begin to realize what it is when a second man begins to follow him with a short-range flame thrower, torching the applied fluid one person at a time. Within a matter of minutes the entire warehouse is aflame, the people covered in bright-hot fire and delivering ear-ringing screams.

At this point of the movie I turn my head and wince, feeling very upset at what I'm seeing. I realize that, although this is fictional, mass-burnings of the living have occurred as recent as 65 years ago, and being shown what it would be like is highly disturbing. I don't know why I don't just turn it off, because I can still hear the screaming.

Then I wake up, but I'm still asleep. That's right, it's a dream-within-a-dream scenario. I'm still in my parents' old condo, but its layout has changed quite a bit. I can hear my folks and my brother in the other room talking about me and how I've been asleep all day. I drunkenly roll around in my covers a bit, but am then startled by two large house cats sitting on the window sill above my bed. As soon as I make eye contact with them, they casually jump down on top of me, unsheathing their claws as they do so, which sting quite a bit. One of the cats is fat and dark gray, the other is a reddish-brown and muscular.

Unaware that my parents had been owning cats since our last one died a couple years ago (in real life), I observe them with a sensation of paranoia. Strange cats disturbing my rest -- which involved dreams about plague-carrying kittens? Another oddity I note is that they still have their claws. My parents are big advocates of declawing house cats (as long as they are not allowed outside).

I turn my attention to a large television next to my bed that is showing an episode of "The Simpsons." As I watch, my mother enters the bedroom wearing Sunday attire and I think to myself that she looks lovely with her makeup and hair done the way she has it. She says that she and Dad are going out, kisses me on the forehead and leaves.

Aware that my attention has wandered, the cats then start rough-housing with me, scratching and biting at my arms and throat!

I then wake up, for reals this time. At least, that's the last thing I can remember from my dream. What's freakish is that this morning, immediately after I awoke from all this, I went to my laptop and checked my e-mail. My friend Club Narwhal was online, and her G-Chat status message was this link. Imagine waking up and starting your day off by seeing THIS:


Cats in wigs are scary all on their own... but given the activities in my subconscious over the hour or so before that, my sense of fear was severely heightened!

Analysis:

• I have been watching episodes and clips of "The Simpsons" this week.
• I think I was thinking about the Renton condo within the last couple of days...
• Isn't it crazy that I had a movie within a dream within a dream? I mean, "watching" the movie isn't the best way to describe it. For the most part, I was IN the movie as an observer, and was only aware of the movie's TV-limited existence when I turned my head away.
• That's seriously all I've got. I have no idea what the scary movie comes from, nor the aversion to cats. I actually am normally a fan of felines, but they sincerely creeped me out this morning.

Conclusion:
Maybe Sarah Stevenson is justified in her phobia.

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Hit and Run: The Commute

I thought there was more to this video as I was putting it together today at work, but when all was said and done I realized that... no, there really isn't.

Not my best work, but I'm danged proud of what I managed to do in a cubicle, unable to do actual voice over narration (for fear of being disruptive or making it look like I'm shirking my duties -- because in all honesty I only had a couple hours of down time and they were spent waiting on people to get back to me on projects).

Pardon the hairdo. That's what I get for being safe and wearing a helmet.

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Dreams: Suburban Crunch

I had a dream last night that involved Matthew Perry trying to sell a dog that looked an awful lot like Benji, and me sharing a bowl of Cap'n Crunch with Crunch Berries with the members of Suburban Legends.

Analysis:

• I had a bowl of Cap'n Crunch with Crunch Berries shortly before going to bed.

Conclusion:
What the...

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First Time for Everything

My sister made me do it. Whether or not I enjoyed it will not be publicly admitted (at least not in words). Click on the image to see the full size and actually be able to read it.

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Dreams: Why Do All My Women Just Turn Out That Way?

I just woke up with an upset stomach and e-mailed work to tell them I'll be late, and decided to use the time to get this crazy-vivid dream down on e-paper before I forget it.

My brother Cabeza and I are hanging out in a rundown grocery store, you know the kind: yellow, dingy floors that haven't been swept in weeks, a smelly produce section, and frozen foods that all suffer from freezer burn, as well as a poorly-lit checkout area. After debating about a flavor of ice cream to get, I decide to get dropped off at my friend Adonis' house, who is still living with his parents, apparently. Adonis is of Filipino descent in actuality, so the rest of his family follows suit in my dream. His younger sister (who doesn't exist in real life) is also present, and I arrive in time for her father to call us all together to pronounce a blessing on her. It's around this time that I realize that Adonis' sister and I are actually in the early stages of a serious relationship, and that her name is Legend.

The blessing is done with me, Legend, Adonis, and their father lying on our stomachs in a circle on the carpet, facing inwards. The father pulls out some small, white and yellow flowers and hands them to each of his children, but before he gets to me I lay my head down and start to fall asleep, so he gently places the flower on my head. As I doze, I hear him tell Legend that she and I will one day be married, and she seems okay with the idea. When the blessing is finished, we retire to the living room. Legend sits on the couch, and I attempt to sit on a stool that is set on one of the couch cushions next to her. Upon finding this awkward and uneasy, I remove the stool and sit directly next to Legend so as to facilitate cuddling. She's a really cute girl, by the way. Even as a conscious sentience now I look at my memory of the dream and realize that I would totally be attracted to this Asian girl if she really existed. Aside from her physical beauty, she puts up with my silliness and can never get enough of me.

The dream gets a little more interesting from here on out. Sometime after this visit to Legend's family, I end up joining with Cabeza and Warren (Legend tags along, too) for a time-traveling adventure. Apparently Cabeza, Warren and I do this sort of thing all the time, for it seems second nature to us when we suddenly pop up in the middle of a dirt road in an old, western town of ... the early 1970s?? Although the people around us are dressed like they are from the '80s, I know we have traveled almost 40 years in the past. I'm not sure exactly what our purpose was in being there, but we start walking directly towards a small airport to catch a flight to Europe. Warren and Cabeza pick up their pace and want to catch the plane that is going to leave at any moment, but Legend and I are lolly-gagging behind, too focused on our efforts to decide which way is best to hold hands (with my arm in front or hers?). We also stop every once in a while to hug and chat, and somewhere in there she tells me that she wants to marry me. At this point in the dream, for the first time, I realize how young Legend is: she's barely a senior in high school (sick). I think to myself that she's moving pretty quickly and is probably a little too young still to understand the implications of such a statement, but I don't want to ruin the moment for her so I make a mental note to talk to her about this later.

Unfortunately, once we DO get to the airport, the plane has just taken off. Apparently this is an airport that is always in high demand and is constantly rushing flights, so they waste no time on the ground -- not even waiting to have the engine routinely checked before takeoff! Warren and Cabeza made it on time, but we are left behind due to our inability to stop being lovey-dovey for two whole minutes. We decide that we should at least get in line for the next flight, so we walk through airport security, which is held inside a small shack that leads to a door that will take us to the humble, single-plane runway when it's time to go. We sit on the floor and wait. I pull out my cell phone to check the time, but I am not getting a signal (since it's the 1970s), and it dawns on me that I have no way of communicating with Cabeza to coordinate where to meet back up so we can make it back to the present.

Slightly panicked, I look at the flight schedule on the wall and note that the last one had left at 4:45, the next one is scheduled for 5:25. Suddenly a loud ringing emanates from Legend's purse, and the large crowd that has gathered behind us (also in line for the flight) becomes somewhat shocked as they look around for what the sound could be, as there are obviously no telephones mounted anywhere nearby on a wall. Legend blushes and discreetly shuts of her phone (it must have been an alarm going off since we have no cell signal). It's then that I decide to go outside for a minute and get some fresh air. Legend agrees to stay behind and save our place in line.

As I step out to the exterior of the little building, I find myself being confronted by Rich, a guy in my real-life ward at church, who has no business, really, in being in an unusual decade. But, as he is a friend, we begin to chat, and find ourselves walking further and further from the airport. We get about half a mile away when we stop in the middle of an unkempt, paved road next to a rotting billboard and abandoned, rusty cars sitting in tall, wild grass. The sun is setting behind the airport and we talk about a lot of things, one of which being my relationship with Legend and how I know that she and I are going to be married, but that I need to get her to calm down about the whole idea because she's too young -- it will be a while before either or both of us will be ready for that step. Rich listens intently and returns with some excellent advice, which I don't remember any of, but is cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. He answers and has a brief discussion with Cabeza, who has landed in Europe. I ask Rich how the heck his cell phone is working, and he says, in a matter-of-fact tone, "I have a signal." For no reason this makes me suspicious that Rich is some sort of guardian angel who can bend physical laws in his efforts to watch over me. This thought process is interrupted by the sound of roaring turbines and screeching wheels. The plane has arrived -- and I'm half a mile away!!

Stressing that being separated during a trip through time may have disastrous results, I begin running full speed back to the airport, perhaps at a pace that is slightly superhuman. Rich finds himself a moped and rides in front of me, but never offers me a ride. As we draw closer to the airport, I see the plane readying for takeoff. I realize that Legend is probably on the plane, saving me a seat, and my desperation drives me forward as I battle against time to keep us from being separated for what could be forever. I finally reach the airport and am approaching a turnstyle at the entrance when an amazingly-strong gust of wind blazes out from the airport and in my direction. People are literally swept off their feet, and a vortex swirls at me, blocking my path to my woman. I follow in my pursuit and soon find the air around me calming down. Approaching the small building where we had been waiting for the plane, I let myself in and look out the window to see the airport employees closing the plane's doors -- they're about to take off!!

I rush through the building, which has suddenly grown larger on the inside and become more of a labyrinth of hallways. The walls and carpeting remind me a lot of the standard interiors of LDS church buildings as I try, door after door, to reach the runway and somehow put a stop to the takeoff sequence. I eventually find an unlocked door to a room that looks like it may have its own private exit. As I enter I quickly notice a small sign labeling it as a Catholic chapel, and I see that they even have a small confessional and a place for their holy water, but it's of little import as I find yet another door that leads me into a much smaller room, and this smaller room has a small doorway to the runway, which I use.

I become aware that I've popped out to the runway, right behind one of the jet turbines. The airplane is relatively very small -- probably the size of a 727. The engines have already warmed up and the jet is ready to take off. The wheels are slowly turning as the pilot is getting ready to build the speed he needs to get off the ground. However, as soon as airport authorities notice a man standing directly in the path of the turbines' flaming wake, they contact the pilot and tell him to cancel takeoff. The plane, however, has been moving enough that it still moves forward, but because it is unable to lift off the ground it plops into a large pond at the end of the short runway.

I get back inside the building and wait for the emergency evacuation of the plane's occupants. The song "Stepping Stone" by Jet Lag Gemini begins playing in the background, like a movie soundtrack. After a few minutes of miffed passengers walking by, I finally spot Legend, who looks very concerned. I run out to greet her and her expression instantly changes. Her long, black hair flows behind her and her Asian eyes become extremely squinted by her huge smile as she races to me at full speed and we embrace. We kiss, of course, just as a police officer comes and asks us both to come with him. I tell him to hold up for a second while Legend and I continue to kiss, then we stop while someone begins chastising Legend for some unknown reason. I take the opportunity to whisper "I love you" in her ear. At this, Legend cuts off this other person, looks at me surprisingly/elatedly, returns the phrase and kisses me again. At this point, successful in my efforts to rescue ourselves from separation in a setting not of our own time, we allow ourselves to be escorted away by the police.

And then I wake up. But it's not just any normal awakening. There is this swelling in my chest as if I have really been feeling deep emotions of love and romance. I think of the mental image of this "Legend" girl I'd made up in my head, and regret that my relationship with her isn't real. I realize that my dream was really off-the-wall, but nonetheless it was tragic as reality sunk in and I found myself single again -- and not even a time traveler!! Where have you gone, Legend??!!!

Analysis:

• Well, I'm single, so that should hopefully explain my subconscious throwing these images of relationships out at me. I really don't think I need to go any deeper than that.
• I find it interesting that my dream follows a narrative form pretty well, including an inciting incident, climax, and denoument.
• I think the name "Legend" may be a result of all the marketing I've seen for the DVD release of "I Am Legend." It would be interesting if there was some other, more profound reason.
• As fond as I am of the Asian persuasion, I don't consider myself to be one of those guys who is obsessed with Asian women, so I find it somewhat random that Legend was Asian (and disturbing that she was still in high school, apparently -- though I swear she didn't look that young in the dream!).
• Okay, actually Legend was probably Asian because I interacted in a rather unusual way yesterday with a Korean woman who I thought was really cute. The "unusual interaction" will most likely be revealed in a near-future post.
• The time travel aspect may stem from the various discussions I've had with Cabeza lately about the show Lost.

Conclusion:
The only thing better is a redhead Jew.

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All Couples' Blogs Are the Same

Can you spot any differences between the following blogs?

Jake & Marissa
PB & J
Mitch and Jessica
Adrian and Emily

Neither can I.

I normally try not to break away from my normal formula of posts (videos/audio/graphics/dreams) but felt that, since I haven't posted in a couple weeks, I ought to put SOMEthing up, and announce that from now on I will select ONE couples' blog to read and use that as an update for all couples that I know.

The young, married readers of this post are probably scoffing by now, but if any given couple asks me what I know about their current goings-on, I can say, "One of you just graduated and the other is not far behind. You also just moved to a new place, and you love remembering your wedding day. You talk to family members all the time." This is all information that's been redundantly fed to me through separate blogs on the Interweb. Surely I can increase efficiency by limiting this feed to ONE.

In the spirit of Silence Dogood:

A Receipt for a Couples' Blog by
The Shark

• A title and/or URL that includes the names of both subjects
• A husband who doesn't post as much as the wife
• References to the wedding day in approximately every other post
• Mention of recent/impending relocation
• Updates on extended family members
• One blogger who is still in school, the other a recent grad
• Wedding and/or engagement photos in the title bar or profile square

Note that when the couple begins to bear children, the blog evolves into one of the following:

Wilson Web
My Sanity
The Meanest Mom

The formula changes slightly to allow for more diversity, but generally here is the resulting recipe:

• The mother must do the bulk, if not ALL, of the writing.
• Where the mother is NOT the sole contributor, the blog's title/URL includes the surname.
• Where the mother IS the sole contributor, the blog's title/URL makes reference to her being a mother, and usually a comparison between maternity and prison.
• Tons of baby photos.
• Mention of recent/impending relocation
• Updates on extended family members

The Randle family follows the recipe with a bit of role reversal, in that Bryce generally writes more than Nancy. Most everything else is the same, although he throws in a lot of updates on his video projects and other creative endeavors, which are refreshingly interesting:

Randle Re-Runs

Thank you, married people, for giving us bachelors a template to follow in the future. :)

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Dreams: My Dad, President Palmer and "Sister Act 2"

I'm living in Southern California, walking to a Mexican restaurant a few blocks away, but the streets are overly-crowded with pedestrians and there is no direct street or walkway that will get me where I want to go. Fed up with the headaches of traffic, I leap in the air and fly up and away from the hassle, making a direct course for my destination. However, just before I'm out of earshot, my ears pick up an insult casually thrown at me by one of the people below, so I quickly return only to spit out some quip in retort, causing the rest of the crowd to point and laugh at the perpetrator, and then I zip away, back on path.

Eventually I run into my manager from my job, who asks me to be careful about where I am when I shoot into the air, because not many people in the world can do it yet and she doesn't want me to get kidnapped by the government to be studied and tested. I ask if it would be better if I found an obscure part of the neighborhood, or maybe a wooded area, that I could use to take off. She is a little confused, and makes it clear that she thinks I mean that I need a runway. After I awkwardly tell her that really I just need a place where I can jump straight up without any obstruction, she changes the subject by bringing up a book I've been reading in dreamland. I don't recall the title of the book, but I do remember that the next installment in its series was a novelization of "Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit" -- and no, the book I'd just finished was NOT the first "Sister Act."

Sometime later, I end up back at home, which reminds me of the condo we moved to in real life when I was 16-years-old, but it's not the actual place because I know I'm still in So Cal. My dad comes home from a new job he's just acquired at a Nike outlet store in a strip mall so far away that it requires him to live in a hotel during the weekdays. He looks tired and ready to collapse, and as I ask him about his employment, he tells me that he's basically a sales manager AND analyst, and that he has to take frequent breaks from his shift in order to go back to his hotel room and lie down for a bit. When I ask if he enjoys his job, he is too tired to respond, but my mother is in the room and I catch a glance from her that tells me, "He doesn't think he enjoys it, but it's good for him."

Another hazy passage of time occurs, and I next find myself at home again, but this time home is a large, lobby-like area with marble floor and walls, and granite desks lining the circumference. Again, my dad comes home, but this time my dad looks nothing like my real-life father, for in THIS instance of my dream, Dad is played by Dennis Haysbert, known for his role as President Palmer on 24. As soon as he walks in I realize that we are living in a bank that he has just acquired in a business transaction. The security guard goes outside to do a sweep of the premises, and "Dad" begins to systematically fire all the tellers, who have begun swarming him and pestering him with issues that make him realize that he doesn't NEED them there. After a moment he steps outside to find the security guard just standing around, and he tells him that his sweep might be more effective if he actually walked around the building. For some reason this whole experience evokes from me emotions of pride for my "Dad," and I put my arm around him and tell him how I feel. He smiles, and we walk back inside.

I then realize that I am actually watching an episode of 24 on a TV that's been specially set up for me, but that I'm still in the lobby of the bank. Tears are streaming down my face and I'm becoming quite emotional as I begin explaining to those around me that President Palmer is such a beautiful Messianic figure, as if I just had the most wonderful spiritual affirmation that this was so.

I get up, head down a hallway, and soon find myself in a bedroom that I assume to be my own, though it's not very comfortable -- there is no carpet, just a grayish blue floor and similarly-colored brick walls with a small window and no decor. There are two beds against either side of the room, and I recognize that the one on the left belongs to my brother Cabeza, though I can't, for the life of me, understand why Joe, a guy in my real-life ward at church who looks an awful lot like Michael Hitchcock, is sitting on it, packing his stuff from what appears to be a multiple-night stay. I inquire as to his doings, and he explains that he was spending a few nights there while Cabeza and I were absent.

Then I wake up.

Analysis (only of the elements I understand):
-Flying dream again! The difference between these latest flying dreams and ones of old, though, are that in the past I begin flying as a realization that I'm dreaming, consciously taking advantage of the absence of boundaries in dream state -- as if I'm in the Matrix. In this and my other recent dreams, I'm not aware that I'm asleep.

-My dad has battled health issues for quite some time and was forced into early retirement. I don't consciously dwell on it a whole lot anymore, but the whole experience is definitely something that has made me who I am today, and although it probably does influence how I think of my dad, I can't say that it makes me think negatively of him, which perhaps explains my viewing him as an authority figure (albeit a dramatized one) and my expression of confidence in him.

-A few weeks ago I finished watching 24 Season 2 for the first time. As a side note, I must say that anyone who has told me that they were "hooked" on 24 from their first time sitting down to watch Season 1 has lost serious credibility with me. There have been enjoyable moments in each of the first two seasons so far, but there has also been a lot of awful writing and acting, enough that I find the show to be mediocre so far, at best -- definitely nowhere near "helplessly engaging". I am going to watch seasons 3 and 4 eventually, though, as I've been told they are the best two seasons. I'd much rather watch Lost.

-My emotional response to 24 in this dream is, to me, representative of my natural tendency to read into texts of any sort and take away something profound, even if it's unintentional. Admittedly, crying over the spiritual beauty of a melodramatic prime time TV show is over the top, but I think the symbolism stands.

-The Mexican restaurant mentioned at the beginning of the dream is probably a result of my endless search for decent Mexican food in the DC Metro area. It's really hard to find.

Conclusion:
-Whatever is going on in life that's making me fly, it's still happening. I love my dad despite his trials and afflictions. I am an active viewer of art, even when art is pop culture or commercialism.

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Stat Chat

I sometimes delight in the rhythm of words. So much that sometimes (but not ALL the time) I read the status messages in my Google chat and see the potential for a toe-tappin' beat. This is very much an experiment in redundancy, an attempt at demonstrating the rhythm in status messages, or, as my friend Megan has come to call it: Stat Chat.

See if you can recognize which one belongs to you!

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Dreams: Super Powers

Let's face it, reader: you and I BOTH know that my dreams are the weirdest, and maybe the influence of comic books in my life makes you think I have an odd mentality (by the way, if you do, I urge you to drop your hypocrisy for just a few hours and read this book), but nobody can deny that whatever makes up the Shark's subconscious provides an excellent gateway to realms that relatively few others chance to visit. In other words, I love the scenarios my mind puts me in and the ability my imagination has to take over when I'm asleep -- and you do too.

Flying seems to be the theme as of late. Last night's dream was more involved than I can immediately recall, but here's what I do remember: I'm following my coworker, Mark C, around an open, giant mound of gravel and dirt. The sky is gray and overcast. He gets a ways ahead of me as I'm distracted by something, and as soon as he's almost out of sight I find myself confronted by two other young men, standing about thirty feet away from me. My instincts tell me that they're about to attack any second, so I immediately take flight (literally) in a defense maneuver.

The attackers are shocked by my ability to defy gravity, but soon display their own super powers in an effort to bring me down. I don't remember what exactly these powers entailed, but they were weak enough that, without much difficulty, I managed to swoop down, grab one of them at a time by the collar, and fly toward walls at amazing speeds, using the momentum I'd built to slam the villains into the obstruction, rendering them unconscious.

I really wish I could better remember all of the details of the rest of the dream, because there was a gradual, "logical" procession of the plot as I found myself allying with other good-intentioned, super-powered beings who were preparing to fight against a larger group of bad guys. Eventually I found myself in the middle of a giant battle taking place in a large, enclosed corridor of an unknown building. I caught sight of one of my friends duking it out with a horned, firey-eyed demon, and I was trying to avoid the fangs of a creepy jerk with snake-like abilities. Not all of the opponents were as devilish as these two were, but they are the only ones who I specifically remember.

I don't know how it ended, although I did hold my own in the fight.

Analysis:
-Mark C's cameo is obvious, as I see him on a daily basis. He has been working at my company much longer than I, so I often find myself "tagging along" with him, letting him lead the way during group lunches and such.

-I think one reason I may be flying more easily and frequently than usual is because I've been reading "Ender's Game" lately, whose main character spends a lot of time in zero-g battles.

Conclusion:
I'd be a lot tougher if gravity would cut me some slack.

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Dreams: Quack!

I had a pretty brief dream last night that I was in a fancy restaurant, waiting at my table for my date to meet me there. The host walks in and seats a woman next to me, but it's not the girl I was waiting for. However, she's gorgeous, so I decide to acquiesce and I begin chit-chatting. In a move that can only happen during a night that I'm utterly exhausted, I begin dreaming of sleeping. The stranger at the table throws her legs into my lap and lays her head on my shoulder. My head leans against hers, and we soon find ourselves fast asleep in the middle of the restaurant.

Suddenly, I wake up and look at the girl. "Wait a minute," I think to myself, "She's not pretty at ALL!" Perhaps revealing a little too much about my subconscious, I slowly repel myself from the girl, leaving her asleep at the table as I run out of the restaurant.

The dream ends with me jumping off a wooden deck outside the restaurant that overlooks a small river/large creek full of ducks and other birds. As I jump, I actually begin to swoop toward a large gathering of ducks, and just before I hit the water I actually begin floating mid-air, and then take off soaring through the sky. I make repeated dives at the group of ducks, doing my own imitation of quacking simply to see how they react, chasing them out of the water as they flap their wings in panic. Some ducks are so freaked out by my ability to follow them a hundred feet in the air that they tuck in their wings altogether so as to dive-bomb back into the water in hopes of escape.

Then I woke up.

Analysis:
-I've got nothing, aside from a sense of giddiness from having a flying dream. I've read stuff that says those who dream about flying have a strong will, but I don't think anything really accounts for the specific scenario in my little fantasy here.

Conclusion:
-If you somehow gain the power of flight, don't bother the ducks. The last thing they need is to be harassed by some jerk with superpowers.

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Hit and Run: Calves vs. Socks

In this installment we discover the one thing that can actually hold up to the infinitely-large beasts known as my calves.

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Dreams: "... 'God is Back' ..."

I just barely woke up from a dream in which part of the upcoming LDS General Conference was shot in the corner of my bedroom. There was a simple pulpit set up right next to my armoire and my bookcase full of my movie collection (about 233 movies at the time of this posting), and a rather large camera about fifteen feet away from all of this.

As the conference began, President Thomas S. Monson, who recently succeeded Gordon B. Hinckley as Prophet and leader of the Church on the earth, stepped into my room and approached the pulpit. He then proceeded to give a very President Monson talk, most of the words of which I can't remember, though his mannerisms were certainly consistent with those of the real-life man: calm, soothing, and perhaps a little unnatural -- but nonetheless loving and sincere, with a hint of musicality in his tone and inflection.

Halfway through his talk, President Monson delivered one of his most famous quotes: "If we don't try, we don't do. And if we don't do, then why are we here?" After stating this, he paused, smirked, and turned around to face my movie collection. After searching for something he clearly had noticed before beginning his talk, he pulled out my DVD of "Shenandoah" and flashed it at the camera with a large grin on his face, the look in his eyes broadcasting how well-pleased he is that the member of the Church whose room he's using shares an appreciation for the story he so often references.

The funny thing is that he then turned back around and continued to explore the DVD titles I had, for the sake of his own curiosity as well as in the interest of sharing it with the rest of the millions of the worldwide congregation. He pulled out my box set of "Star Wars" films and, making sure the camera got a good look at it, made an approving comment that had a hint of reminiscing to it, as if the series was an old favorite of his.

After another brief glance, he made a grab at my copy of "X-Men 1.5," which carried a subtitle in my dream that he read aloud in a very "what the..." tone: "'God is Back'?" My only possible response was to just shrug my shoulders at him from off camera and hope he didn't think I was a sacrilege for apparently owning a superhero movie with overt religious subtexts.

The dream concluded with President Monson trying to figure out the organization of my DVD collection and how to replace the ones he'd pulled out, and me whispering to him to just set them on the shelf and I'd take care of them later.

Analysis:
-General Conference is happening again in a little over a week, and it's not uncommon for me to have dreams about it whenever it draws near or has recently passed. One past dream involved JKC and I taking seat on the stand, with he and President Faust playing practical jokes on me in front of countless attendees.

-President Monson has been the subject of many church headlines as of late, as he really did recently replace Gordon B. Hinckley as the President of the Church. Good for my dreams for being consistent with current events.

-President Monson is known for quoting poetry, C.S. Lewis and Dickens (and other classic literature), hymns, and theatrical works -- including the above quote from "Shenandoah."

-My DVD collection has been on my mind as of late because I've been planning a trip to Philly to see Amanda, whose parents were so kind as to accept a shipment of my DVD cases in helping me move out to the East Coast. I've also been loading movies onto my iPod lately.

-"X-Men 1.5" is a specific DVD release of the original "X-Men" film, loaded with more special features than the first release. It doesn't have a subtitle -- I'm not sure what "God is Back" is even supposed to mean, but it sounds like it might have made for an interesting storyline. Maybe Wolverine goes Pentecostal?

Conclusion:
-President Monson would approve of my diverse collection of movies. (I hope!)

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Flame On!

Special thanks to Amanda for once upon a time taking a very cool photo of a man blowing fire, which inspired this strip.

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You Just Don't Get It

Admittedly too harsh, but nonetheless expressive of the attitudes I both receive and return sometimes.

Still in rough form, but thought I'd share what I had so far.

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This is Not the Greatest Video in the World, No.

I know this is going to go over the heads of so many people. I understand this. And I admit that the editing here is somewhat shoddy -- the compressions of these videos were hard to work with. Nevertheless, this was a project that demanded to be done. Ladies and gents, the end to my creation:

*In realizing that this video is going to cater to a very small crowd, I promise to have another, more universal video up soon. But remember, this blog is for me, so this post is successful in that it drove me to do something I enjoyed putting together.

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Dreams: Number One Strikes Again! (No Bathroom Humor Included)

I find myself on an airplane -- a rather LARGE airplane -- headed west from DC. As I wander around the cabin, I soon end up running into my friend Club Narwhal, who tells me that she's on her way to Hawaii for a business trip that will last a couple weeks. She seems pretty excited about this trip, and she asks me what my plans entail on this flight. I respond that I am on my way back to Seattle, where I grew up, to propose to this girl (who shall be referred to as "Number One" from now on since the only people who know who that refers to have never met her) who I've been in love with for an eternity.

In actuality, I had a mad crush on Number One for quite some time. She moved into my area when I was 11 or so (maybe even younger), and I liked her up until I was 24-ish, when I finally went on a single date with her and realized it was never meant to be (she didn't understand what I meant by the term "poo with three o's" -- I mean, come on, what's there to misunderstand?). It's really too bad, because I had this whole grand master plan of how I was going to woo her. When I was 15 or so I bought her a teddy bear for Christmas and left it on her doorstep on Christmas Eve with an anonymous, "secret admirer"-type note. I never told anyone outside of my family about this. I was going to wait until a moment where I needed an ace up my sleeve to swing a potential relationship with Number One my way. I was going to hand her another teddy bear and say, "Actually, this isn't the first teddy bear I've ever gotten you." Sappy? Incredibly. But if there would have been any chance of her liking me, she would have been putty in my hands. Alas, that card was never played.

Back in the dream, the plane lands in Hawaii and I realize that I've terribly overshot my destination. Not wanting to have to wait for another flight, I take some initiative and jump into the ocean, swimming as fast as I can toward the continental US. On my journey I discover that the ocean isn't just filled with water -- there are towns and cities inhabited by actual people, and even though it looks like a grouping of houses on dry land, I'm swimming through the entire thing.

Eventually I make it to the Seattle area, but it's late at night. I go to my friend Pedro's house and crash. He asks what I'm doing there, and I tell him my intentions, to which he begins to argue that it's too late to try winning Number One over and that all I'm going to do is cause an embarrassing situation for both of us. This discussion becomes very emotional as I begin to choke up and swear to him that I have to at least TRY to express my feelings to her, that I've lived my life too long in emptiness to give up now.

The dream ends there.

Analysis:
-I'm not sure why I'm dreaming of Number One since I haven't been thinking about her at all lately. Maybe it's because she's a very beautiful girl, and certain people I know have recently been dealing with the comings-on of very beautiful women. But I feel like that's an improbable connection.
-Club Narwhal is super-cool and has been giving me advice on decorating my bedroom. I also had dinner with her and her roommates on Sunday, so I think my recent social experience with her explains her part in my little adventure.
-Hawaii was featured on the last episode of "Eli Stone," which I caught last night with my sister.
-I'm baffled by my discovery of civilization in the middle of the ocean, as well as my ability to swim through seemingly-solid objects. But I am the Shark, so, yeah.
-Pedro is one of my best friends, and a mutual friend of Number One's, and the last few interactions I've had with her have also involved him, so it makes sense that he'd be involved in this whole exchange.

Conclusion:
Maybe I subconsciously wish something would have happened there. But honestly, on a conscious level, I have no regrets and still don't think we'd be compatible. Perhaps this is more part of a desire for me to be in a relationship again, where I can have someone to express my feelings to and have the companionship I sought in the dream? And maybe Club Narwhal should go to Hawaii. And maybe I should become a stronger swimmer so as to not be hindered by underwater obstacles, such as houses.

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I'm Not the Only Dust My Mother Raised

This song, as of the post date, is for everyone else.

Mind you that I'm preparing for a big party performance on Friday and haven't touched a guitar since August.

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Engagement Photos: Who (or What) is the Focus?

It's fairly often that I get a wedding announcement in the mail and end up rolling my eyes. When I get a picture like the one below, I feel like the announcement itself should say what is inherent in the couple's pose, so I did some editing to express this. (Note: I don't know the people in the picture.)

I know that most couples aren't actually thinking this way when they take the shot, but I think if everyone stopped and really thought about what happens when the ring becomes the center of the announcement, they'd find the following:

1) It detracts from the PEOPLE in the picture, the ones we should be celebrating.
2) It's either a really nice ring that shows off your wealth, or it's a really poor ring that isn't worth showing off.
3) It's cliche, cheesy and unnatural.
4) It detracts from the real purpose of the photo: a medium by which the groom's friends can check out and determine the bride's level of hotness.

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