Occasionally, I get the feeling that I'm not reaching my full potential. Then I decide that there's nothing I can do about it and reach for another potato chip.
Last night, I had at least four dreams. All of them were equally odd yet strangely pleasing. I went to prom again, turned down the proposition to dance with the Honduran dishwasher, Manuel, and did other momentous things. They smack my active conscious with a THWAP usually when I'm in the midst of doing something tedious, and I recieve the incredible opportunity to relive an awkward moment (or four) and laugh to myself. And people wonder why I'm crazy.
Sometimes, I wish I could can my dreams or turn them into a late-night clip show. It would be the kind of show that Mommies would advise their children not to watch. The content is not overtly sexual (or sexual at all, really), foul, or disturbing. Just weird.
The other day, I decided that when I finally get a glorious apartment to put all sorts of neat shit in (AKA The American Dream), I'm going to get a nice TV. Not a Monday Night Football kind of TV, but a decent sized one. Then I'm going to destroy it. Just a thought. I think it would be a nice thing to do, you know, very liberating. Maybe I would read more or exercize. Find a new hobby. Play the piano again (assuming that I would have one). Or maybe I'd buy another. Who knows? Some people are built to change and others are not. I haven't quite figured out which kind I am, but like most, I probably learn towards the latter.
I also decided that, one day, I'm going to go to Iceland. I'll probably like it very much, and because of the mild climate in both summer and winter (thank you Gulf Stream), I'd stay. This would be, of course, if I go absolutely nuts and decide to quit being sentimental and self-limiting. I think you can agree with me that it would be quite a change of scenery and very bold. Of course, the language is one of the hardest to learn, but I'd go to night class. Maybe I'd become some entreprenuer of an "offbeat" business or suddenly grow fond of animals of the feline variety or speak only in broken Franglais...
I know I sound completely off the wall, but that seems to be the direction my mind takes when I give a little slack in the cranial leash when I'm exhausted. Or it could be all of the They Might Be Giants songs I've absorbed, spongelike, within the past month.
Donc, c'est ca pour maintenant. Peut-etre, j'ecrirai dans ce week-end apres le concert de CSNY ou le match football d'Italy et France, ou quand je me chercherai. Je ne sais pas. Boeuf! er Bof! C'est le meme chose, vraiment.