tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89180543326193906792024-03-12T21:07:59.917-04:00Orin's HouseOrinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-12779584257055196212012-09-08T12:49:00.002-04:002012-09-08T12:49:28.406-04:00One of the most amazing dreams I've ever had.I had one of my more uninteresting dreams at first. There was a huge water park slide in the middle of a low income apartment complex. Children and adults were sliding around and having a good time. I walked from my parents house to a neighborhood a few miles away where I was chased around by a man in a weird looking fire truck. I remember that on the way a lady on a bike said "keep going, you're doing a good job Or". "Or" is one of my nicknames from my dad. I was also on a red tower later and I was overlooking the water park/ low-income apartment complex. This is all I remember from the first part.<br />
<br />
My sister Lorel came up to me and told me it was a dream and it took me a while to come to the realization. I asked her "Do you remember going to the water-slide park", and she said, I must have dreamed it and that she didn't remember it.<br />
<br />
I was distraught because it all seemed so real to me, and so I told my friends Robbie Coltrane [or Hagrid, but he was dressed up fancy and had normal hair,] and Mike Ehrmantraut from breaking bad about the dream. They were fascinated.<br />
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Later that night I went to one of their live showing, and they asked me to participate. As the show went on Mike and I began to make beautiful models of everything, while Robbie narrated. His narration was funny and old fashioned, and we were surrounded by people dressed in victorian era clothes. Wigs and masks. The narration and the things we were making began to sound familiar to me. We were recreating my dreams.<br />
<br />
I remember one of the last things we made was the red tower. It was really beautiful, and it showed a miniature of me overlooking the water park, which now looked like a series of colorful rivers. I remember saying "Oh my goodness, it's me". and we all sunk into the ground to a workshop where we were preparing for the next day. Mike came up to me, and told me how beautiful it all was, and then he cried into my shoulder. Then I woke up.Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606209763714997792noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-43422676552760278742012-03-30T11:13:00.003-04:002012-03-31T03:58:23.654-04:00Three pretty interesting dreams last night.I've been a little sick for the past couple weeks, but last night was the first time I had distinct "sick dreams" and could remember them:<div><br /></div><div>Dream 1: I'm a driving around town delivering food, and I go to this one guy's house and he's smoking a cigarette, wearing a leather jacket, and has a slick haircut; he looks like a "cool guy"; never seen him before in my entire life. He's like "Here's the money and take ten dollars for yourself," which sounded nice, but he didn't give me nearly enough money to pay for his tab. I called him out on it, and he got angry, but his buddy inside his house said it was okay, and they'd get the money, we just needed to go somewhere else to get it. So, they hop in my car.</div><div><br /></div><div>Meanwhile, in my mind I'm stressing because I know that I have other deliveries to make. In fact, Sarah from work calls me and says she'll meet me at the next delivery stop. I don't know why. It's not normal for her to do that, and it stresses me out. </div><div><br /></div><div>We end up at my middle school. Supposedly, the gravel running track doubles as a horse racing track. The cool guy put all his money on one of the horses and loses everything. I'm SO frustrated, and annoyed that I have to give them a ride back to their house, that I say "Forget it," and I grab a mop handle and bash their heads in.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dream 2: I'm at a gathering of special minds that have psychic powers. It seems to be taking place in a mansion similar to the one in the first mission impossible movie. We are trained to fight with our minds, and as we leave I see Ben M. from church, in the parking lot. He's with a group of friends who also attended the meeting, and he tells me that Andre Pulley is at the hospital, being held captive by a group of evil psychic fighters.</div><div><br /></div><div>I steal the first Mack Truck I can find and make my way to a drop off location, to avoid suspicion, and my stolen truck is being unloaded by none other than the british actor, Simon Pegg. I confide in him, and he comes along with me so we can save Andre. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm having sort of a difficult time driving the truck, I'm spinning it around in circles, and kind of leap the truck, from truck stop to the highway. This maneuver annihilates the trailer of another truck and Simon Pegg pulls out an Uzi, and shoots the driver of the other truck multiple times. It seemed like the best solution at the time. It was either that or we had to stop, call the police, and exchange insurance information. We didn't have time for that!</div><div><br /></div><div>Finally, we arrive at the hospital. It's very dark inside, like they just have emergency lights on. Over the course of some time, we finally find the room where Andre is being held captive. There's a five year old girl, a man with a fancy mustache, and a particularly beautiful girl to my right in the room. I can tell right away that they have evil psychic powers, and planned on attacking us. </div><div><br /></div><div>Ben M. finally arrived and was instantly mesmerized by particularly beautiful girl to my right. She caresses, embraces, and swirls around him. We are all mesmerized as silver smoke peels away from them in gaseous sheets. Then she softly puts Ben in a sleeper hold, and ever so gently removes his head from his body. We are all shocked by this, there wasn't any blood. It was as if she'd pulled the head off a man that was made out of marshmallow. I was so thought provoked by this that I woke up.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dream 3: Short and sweet, featured me sitting in a chair with a spotlight upon me, and another shone upon a part man, part rhino, and part zebra. Think of Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, with the head of a rhino, and the colors of a zebra. He just explained to me what he was, and the dream was over.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyways, last night was pretty entertaining for me at least and I thought I'd write it down somehow, so I could remember. I don't think there is any deep meaning in them.</div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606209763714997792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-33406816602449300632012-01-06T15:51:00.002-05:002012-01-06T17:25:31.047-05:00A drug related postSo, I was looking at a slideshow the other day that highlighted <a href="http://www.life.com/gallery/38742/famous-literary-drunks-addicts?iid=news|relatedgalleries#index/0">famous authors</a> with their equally famous vices. It turns out that all the good writers are mostly a bunch of alcoholics, and drug addicts. I'm not surprised. Drugs of any sort can have a dramatic effect on your brain, and therefore your ability to write.<div><br /></div><div>Since I watched the slideshow, it's kind of been on my mind. I've had somewhat of a writing drought lately, and I performed an experiment of sorts and came to the conclusion that the drought is because of the prescription medication that I have to take.</div><div><br /></div><div>Enalapril: it's an ACE inhibitor that works by decreasing the production of the chemical in your body that restricts the blood vessels so that your blood flows more freely and efficiently throughout your body. It distributes your blood evenly, but it makes it nearly impossible to channel your blood flow, like your body naturally does for you. For instance when and non-inhibited person runs, his/her blood is channeled to his/her legs and lungs. When he/she thinks, more blood is channeled to his/her brain. This drug, that I have to take for my hypertension, makes me average. When I'm on it, [which I have been for the last several months], I'm incapable of being very creative because the blood that I channel to my brain does not stay in my brain, like it normally would. Okay, I'm moving on, whether that makes sense or not.</div><div><br /></div><div>Two nights ago, I did not take my medicine, as part of my experiment. That very night, my brain was flooded with blood and therefore dreams. It was very exciting for me, because I hadn't had a dream in months, and I was having tons of inspiring dreams. I can't describe to you how wonderful my brain can be when it's off drugs. Most people have to take drugs to get the same result!</div><div><br /></div><div>I woke up exhausted, however. I was tired all day because my veins were expanding wherever my body needed them. My brain was working extremely well yesterday too, but my body was too tired to make any use of it. The natural strain my heart puts on my body is exhausting at first, to say the least. I use to clock in at 170/100 with my heart beating over 100 BPMs. Doctors and nurses would ask, "why aren't you in the ER or dead"? I'm not dead because my heart is beating. </div><div><br /></div><div>I usually feel healthy too when my heart is racing like it usually is when off medication. More than healthy! My body just wasn't ready for it yesterday, so I decided I would take my medicine last night. I did, and I'm feeling kinda humdrum and dumb today. I'm writing leftovers of my thoughts from yesterday when my brain was really invigorated. </div><div><br /></div><div>As the day goes by I'm losing more and more of what I had yesterday, and it's depressing because I can either be unhealthy and creative or healthy and average. I really hate being unhealthy, but I also hate being average. If my brain was working right, I'd probably say something about it being a Catch 22 or something, but at the moment, I'm not sure if that's right. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606209763714997792noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-83064979848140076232011-04-27T12:00:00.005-04:002011-04-27T13:49:29.763-04:00Comfortable in my UnderwearSo a couple nights ago I had some elaborate dreams that I think have inspired me. Those who know me, know that I'm a believer in dreams, and as Paulo Coelho wrote in The Alchemist, "those who believe in dreams can also interpret them,". I don't know if I'll go into too much detail this time around on my interpretation, but I'll probably go on about my recent inspirations.<div><br /></div><div>I was in a house with a bunch of people I knew. It seemed like a party, and I saw a girl whom I've loved for a long time in the hallway. She was dressed as nicely as she always does and I followed her for a while. She's the one I've lucked out on because she happens to have a boyfriend, but I still like her a lot; I can't help it. We talked for a while, and she seemed to pick up what I was putting down, so I thought maybe there is a chance that we will go out at some point; who knows? She didn't seemed threatened by my nearly nakedness [I'm in a pair of gray briefs for the entire dream], and I wasn't afraid or ashamed either. Being only in my briefs is a recurring theme in a lot of my dreams; I'll get to that later. </div><div><br /></div><div>The party continues and one girl in particular who I have an indifferent relationship with has a white marker board sign up that says "Slumber Party" with all the drawn in confetti and stars to make it exciting. She says "Hey Orin, would you like to come to the slumber party my friend is throwing?" and I'm really touched emotionally because sometimes I think this girl doesn't like me at all. I say "of course," and she and her friends celebrate. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now I'm super happy, but a friend from work tells me she's tired and needs to go to the slumber party so she can sleep. She latches onto me like a baby monkey clings under its mother, and I carry her outside to a park area where we throw down a blanket and lay down and rest. Another girl is on the blanket, and I have suspected her of liking me in the past. I don't like her in any type of romantic way, but she kisses me on the cheek and it's nice, and it relaxes me. </div><div><br /></div><div>Moments later I'm walking on the grass with the girl who invited me to the party and her friend. We're in our underwear, and we see this futuristic-looking room that seems to be made out of holographic LCD screens? That's the best way I have to describe it at least. We go in and it's packed with men placing bets on sporting events and trading stocks. We realize we're in the wrong place, but a guy tells us we can't leave until the timer runs out. So we lay on the grass and the girls rest their heads on my shoulders and we doze off. I am starting to realize this is a dream now. I'm realizing that this girl would probably never cuddle with me in real life because of past drama, but I'm happy so it's "whatever". I think the dream became somewhat latent at that point, but I didn't really do anything that was too amazing from then on. </div><div><br /></div><div>Finally, I went to the park and a van pulls up and a bunch of Samoan rugby players get out and start throwing tons of Frisbees around. They aren't organized or anything, and are just picking up frisbees and throwing them as far as they can. I yell out that we should play a game of Ultimate and they just start throwing the frisbees at me as I run away gleefully laughing my head off... and then I think I woke up.</div><div><br /></div><div>I won't get too deep on the interpretation here but there are some basics that I picked up. Me being in my underwear and not being ashamed means that I can be comfortable and confident in who I am. When I'm with other people in their underwear that means that I feel that they too are comfortable expressing and being themselves around me. Some people will be more into what they are doing and not accept my nakedness and therefore throw stuff at me, but I'll still be happy as long as I keep true to myself.</div><div><br /></div><div>I felt really good and inspired yesterday because of this dream and I think I'm going to make some significant changes. I have ideas on marketing myself and finally getting some of my work out and published. I really think I'm not living up to my potential. I've had dreams that have told me what I need to do, I really just need to act on them. My inspiration has come recently because I've listened to The Alchemist audiobook like three times in the past few weeks! I really believe a lot of what it says. The World is kind to those who pursue their dreams. If I don't pursue my dreams, if I revert back to my plateau of stagnation and monotony I will end up being a very miserable creature.</div><div><br /></div><div>I went to the Pablo Picasso exhibit recently and a lady began to talk to me. She first started the conversation by stating that "[Picasso's work] was very phallic". It was awkward at first when we talked about Freud and all the sexual symbolism, but she's an art professor out of New York it so happens ,and she asks me what I do? I tell her I do portraits and I write, but I'm studying nursing. She seems interested in it all but tells me to focus and do only what you really want to do and follow your dreams because there are too many people who just give up and become a franchise just like every other fast food chain out there... those our my own words, but I'm paraphrasing what she said to me! I really need to believe this and have faith! I think I have something special to offer and there are many people who believe in me. People like her and others have been placed in my life to help me realize my dreams. I just need to listen, accept, and act. I'll be rewarded for my sacrifices. </div><div><br /></div><div>I leave you with a video that inspired me too: I think it's true. </div><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Omw1OHGu3HY" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606209763714997792noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-27108618556414992012010-08-26T10:58:00.008-04:002010-08-26T12:34:29.979-04:00Time travel, Murder, and The Marvelous Land of OzLast night, more likely this morning, was brimming with the craziest dreams I've ever had, and I'm probably going to go through this fast, so bear with me. <div><br /></div><div>We left a town early after buying supplies at the local general store and immediately jumped in the water and began swimming underwater towards my boat. I was swimming with two other men one was poor and black, and the other was rich and white. We swam under the boat, where there was an airlock, and the airlock was apparently the only way we could get in the boat. The other men were under water as I unlocked the hatch with a very big key that was tied around my neck. After I removed several compartments of the hatch that appeared like a puzzle box, I was finally able to make it inside the ship. I never saw the rich white man or the poor black man again, so they must have drown, but it hadn't phased me.</div><div><br /></div><div>The year was most likely around the turn of 18th century, from the looks of the boat, the clothes I was wearing, and the people around me. It was raining heavy and the ship was being tossed around. We seemed to be doing normal ship activities and work for an hour or so dreamwise, which translated into several years.</div><div><br /></div><div>Among the crew was a man that I remember working with, having a laugh, and perhaps drinking grog with several times over the years. He was a built white man with no visible hair[it was either covered or shaved, I don't remember]. Anyway, it turns out that on a particularly dark and stormy night, this guy goes crazy and starts murdering everyone aboard my ship, I say "my ship" loosely, because I don't think I was the captain.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, another guy and I are freaking out because we're about to be murdered, so we run to a compartment of the ship and use some sort of device that allows us to time travel. We try to go back to the time where no one on the ship was killed, so that we could make everything okay, but it didn't work. We ended up traveling into the future, everything became more modern and spaced out. We were now on a very large cargo ship. I was with my buddy, and I saw the murderer just chillin on the rafters; sitting on some supplies hanging up there. I was freaking out because we were on a new ship, with a new crew of men for the man to murder. Anyway, I made it a duty to warn everyone aboard that there was a murderer loose on the ship, but no one believed me, except for two Japanese men who didn't speak any English. Anyway, long story short a female cyborg was sent to the ship and she found and killed the man.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I'm on a farm in what seems like rural Virginia, and I'm giving a walking tour of the area to a bunch of girls. We see this crazy animal that I've never seen before, but I'm looking at it as if i've seen it a lot or all the time. It had the back two legs of a giraffe, but narrowed in at the abdomen and started again with the back end of a giraffe and this continues for a long time, like a centipede with giraffe legs. The very front of it's face looked like a large and furry crocodile, but it didn't seem dangerous; I'm pretty sure it was an herbivore. Anyway, I knew that over time it grew into these large beast chains, and I could tell because there was a younger one that was only the furry crocodile head and giraffe legs. It had a pair of undeveloped legs dangling out from behind, and I couldn't tell if it was giving birth or growing another segment. I remember being really confused about how the animal might breed though.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, we continued to walk and eventually approached our destination. Someone in our group asked, if we were close to the land of Oz, and when I looked up I saw a wall and a giant green magical hurricane. My view changed to what seemed to be a bird zooming around the emerald city, everything was green, and I promise you guys... it was the coolest thing I've ever seen! I was like "WHOAAAAAAAAA!!!!!" The green hurricane of magic that whipped around the city was just amazing! I wish I could describe it to you... seriously, it was a marvel to behold. I was like the double rainbow guy, "What does it mean?!?!?"</div><div><br /></div><div>So we approach a very big wall which has an attached a food stand. The people in the stand are giving away free food to people that are going into the emerald city. I was okay with this at first, but then I began to feel paranoid. The food was delicious, and made me want to go into the city all the more, but it also made me suspicious of what was going on. As I stood in line with a bunch of girls that looked like they were about to enter some dance club, I realized, it was a trap, so I didn't go in. I woke up choking on a lot of liquid, and then I realized I had been dreaming.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dream interpretation note: There isn't too much here this time that's worth translating, but I do think it's funny how my paranoia prevents me from doing wonderful things.</div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606209763714997792noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-4325640914104917692010-06-15T23:39:00.003-04:002010-06-16T00:54:54.405-04:00Keys to potential, blocked by fear.I had a dream last night; a very vivid dream, and as the day has gone by I've remembered more and more of it:<div><br /></div><div>The only definite person I remember was a friend from work named Amos. Amos is the gentle giant type. He's a tall skinny black guy with a lot of tattoos. I guess that's not relevant, but he was there with me the whole time.</div><div><br /></div><div>We were at the beach, near some warehouses at night. The only lights I really remember were street lights, and moonlight; besides that it was very dark and moody.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the warehouse we met with a man who was propositioning us with a new drug. It was orange, granular, and kept in small bags[Orange in "dream terms" represents a stimulation of the senses, and is considered good; interesting side note] . There were tons of the baggys and they were kept in a locker. He gave me a small bag and a lady told me that when I used the drug I would be able to have an experience unlike anything I've ever had before. I would be able to have a vivid and lucid hallucination. This means I would have a bizarre experience, and have total control over everything that happens. It was going to be like a lucid dream, but a very real one, and the orange grain would put my body out like I was in a coma, but my brain would be free.</div><div><br /></div><div>This excited me, so I took a grain out of my bag, and placed my bag in my locker for later use. </div><div><br /></div><div>Amos and I went out to the docks and decided to eat our grains. Once I did I fell to the ground and began to have a dream inside my dream, but this time I had control. I remember having the overwhelming feeling that I could do anything I wanted! And do you know what I did with that power? Do you know what I did with my ABSOLUTE POWER!?!?! </div><div><br /></div><div>I watched TV.</div><div><br /></div><div>I literally could have have commanded the elements and slept with starlets, but I imagined being in a very comfortable chair, just watching TV. What a waste!</div><div><br /></div><div>When I woke up from my dream inside a dream, I was very scared; I looked a little wasted and there were cops everywhere. They searched my locker and found my bag of orange grains. I was frightened and angry that it was taken away, but I was glad that they were only booking me on possession instead of distributing. That's all I remember.</div><div><br /></div><div>Interpretation: Basically I've been given a gift or certain gifts and I do nothing but waste it away by watching TV or not being productive. If I don't use my gifts they'll be taken from me. A simple explanation for an elaborate dream, but if you think about it more, it makes sense. </div><div><br /></div><div>Orange drug: My gift</div><div>Cops: take it away</div><div><br /></div><div>I waste my gifts by wasting my time. It's time to change.</div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606209763714997792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-80577112935852804342010-05-03T12:19:00.002-04:002010-05-03T14:28:17.617-04:00The Stairway from Intelligence to Genius.I was sitting down with Jordan yesterday, and we had a conversation that represented a variety of ideas. One of the main ideas of our conversation was a discussion of the difference between intelligent people and geniuses. At first he didn't follow me; he said something along the lines of geniuses finding creative ways to adjust to normal life; basically, they learn to adapt. While creativity is key, true geniuses don't adjust to normal life, or become normal. They rise above normal life and dwell on a entirely different plane of thinking.<div><br /></div><div>I imagine that this world is represented by three levels of thinking: Unintelligence, Intelligence, and Genius.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Unintelligent are the uneducated people of the world. They mull around on their plane and eventually try and find a way out and graduate to something higher. The only way to ascend to the plane of Intelligence is to follow a staircase, and this staircase is made of blocks of education. Whether this be high-school, college, or street learning, you're still becoming educated and your staircase will eventually lead to the plane of Intelligence.</div><div><br /></div><div>On the plane of Intelligence you have learned to adjust to normal life, and you have a franchise job. By Franchise job, I mean that you are one of millions just like you that get paid for doing exactly what you do. If you stick around long enough, you are told that there will be a bonus in it for you. From your plane you look down on the Unintelligent and now they come to you through the staircase you followed, you tell them to do what you did and one day they'll be able to be just like you, all they have to do is follow the same steps. Secretly, you don't want them to, because the more there are of them, the more likely your job will be at risk! But since you've been here longer, seniority is yours and you get even higher education, so that when they reach where you were, you can say, "No-no-no, I am the master; I have a master's degree and seniority". You tell them this from a pedestal you've erected to glorify yourself. You are constantly looking down to make sure that there is always someone below you, and that your position is secure. Because of this and your reliance on structure, you cannot look up.</div><div><br /></div><div>If you would look up, you would notice the higher planes of genius. The staircases to the higher planes are hidden. You discover that not only did you have to be creative to find them, now that you've found them, you have to find a way to climb them, because there aren't any stairs. You will have to find a way to build them, using the knowledge you've already obtained. What do I use, and how do I get from here to there? It's a complicated process and you are alone all the while. The empty stairwells exist on the planes of Intelligence, and Unintelligence, but if ascended creatively, lead to something higher than both. The planes of Genius.</div><div><br /></div><div>You had to be creative to find your way to the highest planes. You sit on the disk you created by yourself and look down at the big picture. You see the world as it is, you see the evil and good. You open a bag of things you've learned and you sprinkle the knowledge on the planes below. The flakes of genius touch everyone. Some don't notice. Some say "How can I use this flake to help me on my plane"? Then there are the ones that look up and say "where did that come from, and how do I get up there"? These are the people who will become the next geniuses. They'll find the empty stairwell and begin to build their way to the top. When they're at the top, they'll look to their left and see another genius on his disk sprinkling knowledge, and yell over to the old genius that "You and I are different" and the new genius will begin to look down and sprinkle his knowledge. Then the old genius, will hear this and look to his right and see the flake he'd cast down upon the new genius so long ago resting on his forehead... and then he'll look up.</div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606209763714997792noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-81719833588531939362010-04-03T09:55:00.005-04:002010-04-03T10:40:32.751-04:00Late night status update goes overboard.<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Preface: The following took place at two in the morning as I was changing my facebook status. I thought it was 2099 words but it was only 2099 characters long.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Status update:</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I'm just beginning to realize how incredibly sane I am. I know crazy people, and some of them really scare me. You could say I have a paranoia of insanity, and that either makes me totally sane, as I've stated before, or a complete madman. I like to believe that our paranoias guard us from completely exposing the little madmen inside us. So... then fear is our friend; fear is what keeps us safe, and fear is what makes us like everyone else, so that we don't have to be afraid of being different. Because when we are different, we fear being ridiculed by the people that are subjects of fear tactics who are perceived as normal or sane human beings. So, there is a great circle of of fear and normal people trying desperately to be perceived as sane. I'm afraid of those people and all geographic clusters of sanity. There are many clusters that we can join, and we usually join the one where we have to change the least. These clusters roll around the earth all the time. They impact one another and create fragments of dust that will no longer be part of any cluster because they are marked as unfit or crazy. But the dust is the key. It has seen many clusters at the point of impact! In fact, it was once part of a cluster! But the impact helped it to crack off and fall to the earth where it will be rolled over and over again by the clusters of fear and sanity. What's going to happen is that eventually the clusters will break of into nothing and everyone will be dirt. Unfortunately, clusters will form again, but fortunately they will be formed by those first flakes of dust that had to break away. The once thought of as insane will one day rule or invent, and that's how it's been forever. So many insane people, for their time, have changed history because of their supposed insanities. Insanity is often mistaken for inventiveness and free-thinkery.----- wow, I'll stop. It's late, and it's the longest status update ever... and it probably won't make sense to me in the morning... all I'm trying to say is dare to be different, and control your own destiny, and people will follow you.</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Appendix:</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Well, it's funny that I start my status reassuring the reader and myself that I'm not crazy, and I really don't think I am. The main point I was trying to make with that phrase wasn't addressed, there is a thin line between crazy and eccentric. I like to think I'm on the side of eccentric inventiveness. From my viewpoint I see actual crazy people... those people usually present fragments of ideas without relativity. For example let's say that you're sitting at dinner with an insane friend, and without any prompt at all, that you know of, he says "she is such a sweetheart," and you say "excuse me, who?" and then he says a girl that he met at the gym, and you say "we've never gone to the gym together" and then he says she's a sweet girl. Then you say, "well, why don't you talk to her?" and he starts talking to the empty space beside you as if he were talking to the girl. This is an extreme example, but it illustrates that there is no genius there. There are only random electronic pulses in their brain firing off abnormally. The key to being a genius is to be able the think of ideas in the abstract but with continuity and a general story web. You can think of things differently but there has to be relativity to references points and human interaction. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Anywho, I've got to go to work.</span></span></span></div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05606209763714997792noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-71884690328714041302010-02-26T09:36:00.002-05:002010-02-26T10:30:27.920-05:00Beyonce and Dental FlossSo I had this crazy dream last night, that I was either participating in or just watching "Britain's Got Talent". Anyways it had to have taken place a few years ago because it was supposedly before Beyonce got famous. After she sang she made a desperate move to get Simon's approval. She said she was going put floss in her gums and subsequently pull the floss out of her "floss ducts". I remember being in the audience now with an expression on my face like "whatever". No one knew what she was talking about but waited for something to happen. <div><br /></div><div> Anyways, she puts the floss in her mouth and gargles it around for a little while, as if it were Listerine or something. Then she puts her hands up and squeezes her cheeks until she's pinching them tightly. Slowly she pulls her hands away from her face but she leaves behind a trail of floss that's following her hand. She begins to wrap the floss around her ears, and then wraps it around her head until she's covered her eyes, and says "tada"!</div><div><br /></div><div>The next shot was of me in the audience, but the audience now had floss wrapped around their ears and eyes, similar, but slightly different, than Beyonce had hers. I was the only one without the floss coming out of my face.</div><div><br /></div><div>I think the dream has a lot to do with my character. How I feel about society and the media. I have nothing against Beyonce, but the idea of the show[Britain's Got Talent], the star [Beyonce], and the audience trying to be like the star no matter how stupid it gets, is something that bothers me. Also, the star makes a desperate move and pretty much does whatever she can to actually become an absolute sensation. I'm the only one sitting in awe; not understanding why it's a sensation at all? The problem with being "original" in the end is that I'm left alone because I don't fit in. At least, that's how I interpret it.</div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-26811813955990617812010-01-06T11:04:00.009-05:002010-01-06T13:01:17.648-05:00A scary dream!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Hey everyone, a quick update about my book. I'm in the final personal editing phase and it's going rather well. I'm excited to be done soon!</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Moving on! I had a normal nightmare last night; I'm not use to having them. My nightmares nowadays have been weird, like I have to go back on a mission or something. Last night's was totally different, and it played out more like a creepy horror movie:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">So, I was walking in a post apocalyptic wasteland by myself and I came upon what looked like a bombed out bath house. There were a lot of shower rooms and in the building and some of it's hallways seemed endless. President Uchtdorf was trying to take a shower in one on the rooms and I was just trying to help him get a door on a hinge so he could have some privacy because these three inbred looking guys were creeping around. President Uchtdorf, just got frustrated and told me to leave, because if I left, he'd have his privacy. It made sense, but I was upset that he yelled at me. So I just wandered around with a towel wrapped around me, looking for a place to shower privately. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">The inbred three were everywhere I went. One time they were throwing rubber balls against the walls, other times they were walking on the columns where portions of the ceiling had caved in. I remembered talking to one of the three, and he was saying nothing that I should have fretted about, but I really couldn't understand him. They were just teenagers really, and I really shouldn't have been threatened by them, but they seemed to be everywhere, and they seemed to be following me. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I finally felt like I was alone and I found an empty shower room. A naked old man had recommended this room specifically to me. I seemed happy and I began to shower. On the other half of the room, the wall was caved-in, and there was a dresser that seemed to have fallen from the roof. It was saturated with water and seemed to have been there for days. Then I heard a laugh, and I saw the inbred three, watching me from behind the dresser. I asked them what exactly they were doing? They didn't answer again, just smiled, so I left the room, and they didn't follow me out.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I found a personal stall down the hallway, in a darker corner of the bathhouse. It was really strange because I had to climb down into it. It was tight and box shaped; I remember feeling claustrophobic, but this seemed like the only place I could possibly be alone. The shower head was on the floor of the normal bath house, and I could reach it with my hand easily, but I was down inside the floor. I turned on the water, and took a shower for a few minutes when I realized that the water wasn't draining properly. The water was coming up above my ankles and then my waist, but I wasn't afraid at all. I figured that when the water got high enough, I could swim out and be safe. The water was at my shoulders now, and I decided it was probably a good time to get out. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Then suddenly, a hand reached out from the dark rim above my head and grabbed my hair and I began to freak out! I looked up and saw the inbred boy with his hand on my head holding me down under the water! I struggled for a while, but then I woke up.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I was glad when I woke up and it was only a dream. Usually when I have dreams, I go to the same places over and over. The bath house was new, and I don't think I'd like to go back anytime soon.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Other than that life is good. I'm working on making some healthy changes; improving my life in spiritual and temporal ways. I'm already seeing benefits. This nightmare was just a fluke and I don't think it means anything... but now I think I'll read President Uchtdorf's article from this month's Ensign and see if there is a message in it for me. Who knows maybe there was a reason why he was in my dream. There's probably no reason why he should have been naked, but maybe maybe he stood out in my mind, so that I'd read the article.</span></span></div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-29453321322768634822009-10-25T16:01:00.006-04:002009-10-25T19:27:04.906-04:00So, it's been a while.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-lFv70hYsKS1ZwlAB2D5sRD8BElJ89FazFDC7tqrq3r4CPyx8ZTPPKGEwV6UBCl0lyIeyu02GWBnB9FSojv559PRs4W7GJBo22prXVN2appD4nH25kTY_OsuMb3pIQnG16iRvTuODKVW/s1600-h/1019091811a.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-lFv70hYsKS1ZwlAB2D5sRD8BElJ89FazFDC7tqrq3r4CPyx8ZTPPKGEwV6UBCl0lyIeyu02GWBnB9FSojv559PRs4W7GJBo22prXVN2appD4nH25kTY_OsuMb3pIQnG16iRvTuODKVW/s320/1019091811a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396630537206675282" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">The main reason it's been so long is because I've finally finished writing the first draft of my book. I actually finished it about two weeks ago. I printed it out, went to The Dollar General and bought some red ink pens and sticky notes, and have already started editing the manuscript in my spare time. Surprisingly, I have found very few mistakes so far, considering the fact that I have really bad ADD; the manuscript should be riddled with mistakes!</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">They use to call me learning disabled, but it was never really true. Selective learning is a better way to describe me. I could never fit in a mold; I never wanted to learn what the teachers taught me. I was only interested in what I personally wanted to learn at a particular time. When I learned to love to write, I would read dictionaries and grammar books in my spare time because I wanted to write well. It reflects in my writing. I never get "to", "too", or "two" mixed up. That's their land, and they're over there; I never mix my "their"s up either. I become obsessed with what I like to do and as a result, I'm successful. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">However, I do have my problems. For example: sometimes I get stuck on an idea and will write a sentence or word twice without even realizing it. I also have typing problems: sometimes I write a sentence and I'll put a word in there that I didn't mean to. I my head I'm thinking "That's a nice shirt you've got on there" but I'll actually write "That's a nice skirt you've got on there". I'm convinced that my brain completely glitches out on a constant basis, and I make these mistakes all the time. I hate my keyboard too; I'll never get used to it; I think that's my main problem. A laptop's keyboard is strange to me; maybe the keys aren't big enough; I really don't know; it's been a problem from day one!</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">I'm done writing now; that's the big news. I printed out the entire 95,000 word document. A document that size prints out regularly on approximately 240 pages of printer paper, but when consolidated into a book it's slightly above normal for adult fiction. Length wise, it could be compared to between the second Harry Potter book [85,141 words= 351 book pages</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">]</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">and the third Harry Potter book [107,253 words= 448 book pages</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">]</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> . </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">I'm no math expert but that puts me around 400 book pages. That's pretty impressive for me at least; I've impressed myself.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">I'm glad it's finished. I'm glad I'm able to move on to editing and writing query letters to publishers and literary agents. We'll see where it all goes; I'm excited. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-73284520201120823072009-05-05T16:02:00.007-04:002009-05-05T17:36:31.593-04:00The terrible two, a nightmare, and an obscured glimpse at my brain!It's weird; I have this recurring nightmare that might not be understood by a few of you but it's truly an nightmare none-the-less. It's a dream where I am a missionary again.<div><br /></div><div>Let me explain: my mission was great but it was very hard and disappointing. I had some companions that were terrible and didn't want to work, some wouldn't wake up on time and one didn't wake up till five! He woke in time to make it to dinner and go on a few appointments, but not to do any serious work. I spent six weeks with this "District Leader" and it was discouraging. Unfortunately, I was afraid of him; I was afraid of telling on him. Some of the things he did, were grounds for expulsion from the mission and excommunication. But I was afraid of tell the mission president... anything. I'm a very honest person, I think, but I'm also able to keep things confidential. Meaning, most things that people tell me in confidence will never be heard out of my lips. If someone trusts me enough to bear their soul to me; I'm honored and their secret is safe with me. Jack Bauer might be able to get me to talk, but little else will. But this has nothing to do with what was going on about with this Elder. He was blatantly breaking rules! He built a computer, put some games on it, had internet access and would do who knows what all night! I did do some spy work and found some porn on his computer, and it might have been child porn; I didn't look at it long! But I was afraid of this guy; for who knows why, but I never said a thing. I could have beaten him up easily, but the problem was he had a lot more mission buddies than I did, so I was paranoid of what could happen; his best buddy and previous companion was now zone leader; this guy had helped him build his computer and he had built one himself; they probably played Warcraft with each other all night; I don't know! I stayed in the bedroom by myself and read books. I read a lot of books in that time more than I've ever read in six weeks. I would pretty much read from 6:30 to 5:00 every day; I read around twenty books, and yes some of them were not in the missionary library; but I did what I could so I wouldn't go crazy. I had a tough beginning, but I ended strong; I think most of this is due to me not being "senior companion" until way too late. When I finally was senior companion, I made sure that my underlings were not treated like I was.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Recurring Dream I Have:</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm a missionary again not just again, I'm sent back because I didn't do a good enough job. Like, I have to serve another two years even! It's a nightmare because I'm having to go through all the same stuff with disobedient missionaries before I'm in charge, but I never get to that point in the dream. Something terrible usually happens and I wake up and am glad it's not real. Seriously, when my eyes opened I was looking at the wall in my room... I quickly recognized that the wall was not from my dream and was in fact the wall I was used to seeing every night. I really thought it was real. It's funny how the mind works.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've been writing about the brain in my book. In fact, I go into extreme detail about how the brain really works? It's one of my favorite organs to discuss... one of um! OH Snap! Anyway, I'd love to be a brain surgeon, or do something with the brain. I would rather discover things about it; learn about it in greater detail; like a scientist, not a medical doctor. I like things like that. When I like things, I usually do what I can to learn about them. Unfortunately, so many things about school don't interest me, so I'll probably never become a Doctor or Scientist. I need to get over it. I'm an excellent student; the greatest, but I'm bored by professors. I only have success when I teach myself. Anatomy class is boring, but when I'm doing research about it and am really trying to find answers, it's the most exciting thing there is... I just have to make it selfish, I suppose. I need to find a career in something that makes me happy because of this; I will be miserable if end up having a franchise job... what I mean by that is the job I will ultimately have will have to be unique; not just another dot on the map, because I don't think I'm another dot on the map. I've spent enough time trying to be like everyone else to know that's the truth... I can't do it! I wish it were that easy but it isn't. Whoever falls in love with me will only fall for me because I'm different and intriguing, not because I can relate to them; I'm good at pretending that we have things in common, and that can get us about three to six months together, after that it's all up to them. </div><div><div><div><br /></div><div> </div></div></div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-14993765548247067752009-04-14T10:36:00.002-04:002009-04-14T11:57:29.849-04:00Drug induced dreams- it's not what you think.I was watching one of my favorite shows last night: Breaking Bad, a show about a Nobel Prize winning chemistry teacher who turns to manufacturing and selling methamphetamine to a distributer in order to provide some money for his family. You see he's dying of cancer and his wife is pregnant, so he's doing whatever he can so they can be provided for, monetarily at least, when he passes away. It's a great drama, has a good deal of comedy too, and has great insights on the drug world. I, of course, love the science. Maybe that wasn't totally obvious to some, but in my spare time, I like studying science; especially Chemistry, Anatomy, and Physiology. Sure, I also enjoy my fare share of Psychology and whatever you call the study of human behavior as a society... Sociology! Anyway, the show is amazing and is helping my mind think more scientifically in my personal creative medium. <div><br /></div><div>This episode I watched last night induced a strange dream in me last night that I would like to share before it's forgotten:</div><div><br /></div><div>I had been manufacturing my own drugs, and had come up with an excellent product. We'd not sold anything to anybody yet, so I was walking around this elaborate apartment complex selling the drugs out of my backpack to people I knew. I implored them not to speak of what I was doing, and if they knew somebody who wanted some of what I had, they'd have to do a serious background check or have known them for long enough to know that they were not going to tell anyone. Business was doing very well, but it made me sad when I caught one of my real life friends talking to someone I'd just sold drugs to.</div><div><br /></div><div>She looked totally coked-out and was saying that she'd have sex with him for some of the drugs. He said he was tired of sex [who says that?] and that he could not give any of his supply to her. I had a whole bag, I made it for practically no money, and I was selling it. I could have given her some money but I felt really bad for her; so I kind of just walked away.</div><div><br /></div><div>My partner was yelling at me that something was going wrong and that I needed to go downstairs and assist. There was a car on fire, and it was careening down a grassy hill! Then it was hitting trees, flipping out of control, and vast amount of charred bodies were flung out from all sides of the vehicle. There were far too many bodies lying on the ground for that small car! Too many for a a four-door sedan! Among the bodies was my partner who had told me to go downstairs in the first place... but he was a going up the stairs when he'd told me. Weird. Then I woke up and realized it was only a dream.</div><div><br /></div><div>It wasn't a nightmare to me. Some people might think that. It may have turned that way if I'd gotten caught. Most of my nightmares deal with getting caught doing something terrible or having to be held responsible for my mistakes! </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not sure if dreams always speak to me. Maybe the dream was telling me I needed to become a drug dealer because I would not get caught, but it would, in the end, destroy people I cared about... you win some you lose some. I'm not very good at interpreting dreams but I'm excellent at having them. I had one the other night that I wont share, that I believe was inspiration though... maybe this one was too; I just haven't gotten it yet. </div><div><br /></div><div> </div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-51374525073675399122009-04-06T11:03:00.002-04:002009-04-06T12:21:14.256-04:00Ramble on!So, decided early on today that I was going to write a blog entry and rant for a little while about random things, as an exercise to get my mind right for the rest of the writing I'm planning on doing today. <div><br /></div><div>Today, I sat in the lobby of of my dental office, I was a little early for my appointment. They have this terrible movie/ video presentation that is constantly playing in the background. It's terribly acted and scripted. It's supposed to be an informative presentation that outlines different dental health conditions, but it ended up looking more like "Red" propaganda to me. I felt like it was trying to persuade me that juice is evil, that fluoride in our water supply will make us healthy, and that I have to avoid getting CTS. What is CTS? Well, Cracked tooth syndrome of course. Does it hurt when you chew? Did yo toof get cracked? Well, you are suffering from the, extremely common, cracked tooth syndrome. My mind was turning to mush while I listened. I thought it was ridiculous. Why would they need to have a name for that? Cracked tooth syndrome; really, if I ever have a dentist who tells me I have cracked tooth syndrome, I'm going to ask him how many months do I have left?</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, I felt like from the moment I stepped into the office I was being influenced by my surroundings. The voices in my head told me I need to brush and floss more and I also need to come back every six months or else my teeth are going to fall out! They might be right, but I don't like to be told what to do; I especially don't like it if it's suggested. I see a lot of people being influenced on what to do, who to vote for, and what to believe in, but I'm hardly ever influenced. The others fit into a mold and when the dye is caste they end up looking like everyone else. That's precisely why I can't align myself with any political party! I don't trust anyone in politics. I don't fit into their mold and so why vote? If I vote, I will be held responsible for anything that might happen as a result of a corrupt politician being voted into office. Since I don't vote, I can always say "well, I didn't vote for him; it's not my fault we're all going to die in a nuclear holocaust," I'm independent of that way of thinking. I'm smart enough to know that people in power lie to get gain. I'm not like that; I rarely lie; in fact sometimes I'm brutally honest to the point that people are offended by what I say. They should be, but I'm not going to lie; maybe they can respect that at least.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, I get my teeth cleaned and the dental assistant finds nothing to fret about. The dentist arrives and starts to talk to me about things I don't care about; he tells me jokes that I don't think are funny. I laugh a little so it's not awkward. That may be considered lying, but if I change the reason I'm laughing then it isn't. I ask in my head "it's funny that he thinks he's funny but he's not, right?" I laugh because of this and he is elevated. You see, now he thinks I'm an idiot. He may believe that I think everything he says is funny. It isn't true but he's happy. I'm happy too, I'm just feeling a little cynical today. </div><div><br /></div><div>So the Doctor finishes his examination and tells me the bad news. One of my fillings is cracked. My heart begins to race and I say "Doctor, be straight with me! It's not cracked tooth syndrome is it?" it was indeed... he told me I have about a month left... before I have to come back and have my filling replaced.</div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-79040773126336201882009-03-30T10:38:00.003-04:002009-03-30T11:20:36.799-04:00Oman the BawBawian<div>Won three out of eight awards at the prestigious annual Goodwill Awards</div><div>Winner: Orin Rainock as Best Director</div><div>Winner: Orin Rainock as Most Film involvement </div><div>Winner: Oman The Bawbawian as Best Film</div><div><br /></div><div>I'd like to thank the Academy.</div><div> <br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwbwHZMG693vUYTIvgiHpyXpXYx11CS55NdrPvAgKjvFyxyOhS4wdNjYIAPnKUeI1C0H2BImkv9YZxDa5-DtQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-63524906569723781782009-03-18T14:16:00.000-04:002009-03-18T14:17:17.975-04:00Just a quick update: I’m in the library right now, and have found it a very effective place to get work done. I cant log on to Facebook most of the time, and I’m glad because I’m kind of an addict. This has been a great place to write for me and I feel like I’m getting a lot more accomplished than I ever did anywhere else [besides that time when I spent four days in the woods and filled four notebooks with material]. It’s really been great, my only distraction is the occasional hot girl that walks by or sits across from me in plain sight… they probably do it on purpose. They’re probably in love with me.<br /><br /> Anywho, the book is coming along splendidly and is experiencing changes that were not at first anticipated. It has become a sci-fi novel all of a sudden for one, but in a really cool way! Yesterday, I wrote about some really sad stuff… so it’s a good change, at least for a little bit. So, I’m excited to keep writing, if you don’t mind.Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-44936817387575570422009-03-09T14:10:00.005-04:002009-03-09T17:24:24.258-04:00Exclamations, by gum!I've been reading Upton Sinclair's "Oil!" recently and I've been very impressed by his writing technique. I like how he breaks up chapters first of all... He'll have a chapter with a title like "The Escape" and then he'll break that chapter down into several sections which are only about a page and a half long; and they're broken up by roman numerals. There are about ten sections per chapter... it makes it very readable and you can practically stop whenever you need to. I've adapted this to the book I've been writing which is going just fine!<div><br /></div><div>Ha! That's another thing I've liked about Upton Sinclair's style. His use of exclamations are superb and frequent! Practically every section ends in a an exclamation! Even the title, by gum! It properly illustrates and works with the mind the way it should be read in your mind and the way it should be read out-loud. He also uses it a lot when you know he's being sarcastic or indirectly making a point. I really do admire it, and am trying to adapt it to how I write.</div><div><br /></div><div>Early on in the book I felt inspired by Cormac McCarthy and adapted his minimal punctuation style. McCarthy uses periods and commas only; he uses his commas where normal writers would use their semicolons. He doesn't use quotation marks at all! I liked that because there were less restrictions, but I ran into problems when I tried to put emphasis on a word, or tried to be sarcastic. I solved the problem by making the word in all caps. This trick works with the mind! A lot of modern, prolific writers have their own style and don't follow the rules set out by English teachers. It works if the language is consistent throughout their work. The rules become more clear to the reader as he or she goes along; if they are smart enough they will be able to adapt and will be able to read the new style as clear as day! It's clearly a way to make writing literature and help literature remain an art. It works for me! I come from an art family, but I've always had shaky hands, it reflects in my art when it comes to drawing and painting. Writing literature in creative ways has helped me remain an artist and not the black sheep like they thought.</div><div><br /></div><div>"David after dentist" remakes that are funny: </div><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/sGTAnXqn9Jc&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/sGTAnXqn9Jc&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DxFB5RDmBIA&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DxFB5RDmBIA&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-55284631154897522372009-03-06T14:28:00.005-05:002009-03-06T15:32:23.120-05:00Crazy Guy!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpQh2E8hOsaar-0aV__By_fsvbc3UONl8bY2l6szPvtel_AtdEkexP9Dn8cTqVluGZwTzEdKZMpWADoyr8PsEDA_UQctUYvtis-hYySjqPsMi6LPkzJnfqmQzt9fjzKfiyqiu1lR4XtcR1/s1600-h/PIX_%2359.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></span><img style="text-decoration: underline;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpQh2E8hOsaar-0aV__By_fsvbc3UONl8bY2l6szPvtel_AtdEkexP9Dn8cTqVluGZwTzEdKZMpWADoyr8PsEDA_UQctUYvtis-hYySjqPsMi6LPkzJnfqmQzt9fjzKfiyqiu1lR4XtcR1/s320/PIX_%2359.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310159694658954898" /></a><br /><div>So I was driving around this morning and I happened upon a crazy sight to behold. I saw fire, smoke, and police cars outside of Disco Sports: Sports Bar. I got close with my car but the guy in front of me stopped completely, got out of his car, and started directing traffic; and for good reason; there was a CRAZY GUY close-by setting the sign out front of Disco Sports on fire. He looked like an employee of the establishment, wore a red collared shirt, looked the "quiet type", danced around the fire, and continued to put more fuel into it. You could tell by his body language that he was disturbed and threatening anyone who got close to him and nobody did. </div><div><br /></div><div>I said dancing before but the man was really flailing his arms around dangerously; you could see the madness in his eyes from a hundred feet away. The good Samaritan who directed traffic for a minute guided me to safety to the parking lot of Regency Mall; that's where I took the picture above. It's really hard to capture the insanity that I witnessed with a low-grade camera phone like mine; especially since the static had died down when I was able to take the shot. Crazy guy McGee was nowhere to be seen. I thought I saw him run off.</div><div><br /></div><div>That guy must have had a bad day, lost his job, and tried to express his discontent with "The establishment" by setting it's sign on fire. Little did he know that his little stunt would put traffic light power out for several blocks. I'm sorry you lost your serving job at Disco Sports... I'd recommend you to some other establishments but I'm not entirely certain that they'll be set to hire you. Don't put it on your resume! I imagine his application looking something like this: Place of recent employment- Disco Sports. What duties and tasks were preformed- Customer relations, serving, and counting the toothpicks before and after each shift. Reason for leaving- I set the sign out front on fire and went totally out of my right mind... I was having a bad day. I feel a lot better now! </div><div><br /></div><div>Here's a little something about another crazy guy:</div><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/xFPwI3r4c-I&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/xFPwI3r4c-I&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-45729604855369268662009-02-24T01:23:00.003-05:002009-02-24T01:29:02.682-05:00On my way to California, I met a Celebrity!<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/k61AN4fynDM&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/k61AN4fynDM&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="margin-left:0in;text-indent:0in">The most amazing thing happened today; you might not believe it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>As some of you know, I’m on vacation to California; right now as I write, I’m still not actually in California, but that hasn’t stopped amazing things from happening. For example, I really thought my vacation was off to a miserable start when the ticket counter guy informed the passenger’s of my flight that there wasn’t enough room on the flight for everyone. In fact, I was called up specifically, and asked if I would be flexible and be able to go on a later flight. I felt pressured into saying “yes” like I normally do, so I said “yes” and they put me on a flight on the next gate over. It took me to Newark, which was never in the plan, but eventually I wound up in Houston Texas; that’s where I am right now. </p> <p class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="margin-left:0in;text-indent:0in">First of all, because of the grand sacrifice I made, Continental Airlines has given me a 300 dollar gift certificate, which is good for flights anytime this year. My original ticket only cost me 260 dollars to begin with, so this is great news for me. If this little vacation goes well, I could fly out again sometime this year for FREE.</p> <p class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="margin-left:0in;text-indent:0in">That’s nice in all and I am a little happy about it, but that’s far from the highlight of the day. I saw Richard Simmons walking through the terminal with who may have been his life partner, I don’t know; I’m not exactly sure if he’s gay or not; anyway, I smile at him and he says “You forgot to shave today! Don’t you know that there are fifty-million people at this airport today, and they’re all going to see you like that,” he said this kidding; being nice as can be, and I said grinning back at him “Oh gosh, now I’m embarrassed!” and a quick as flick of the fingers he says “you shouldn’t be embarrassed; you look great!” and I said “Ah, shucks!” at least that’s what I wish I said… I don’t really remember what I said after that. He moved on and left me there in utter shock and awe. What a great guy! He made me feel great! He might not have meant a word, but that doesn’t matter to me.</p> <p class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="margin-left:0in;text-indent:0in">After that, I sat at the bar of this Airport restaurant and eventually ordered the Catfish platter. This nice cougar-type lady, sat next to me and we talked for an hour about all sorts of things. Politics, Celebrities, drugs, India, and other foreign countries. She was trying to convince me that I should go out of the country and see what the world has to offer. She’d been to India and said she had a love hate relationship with the country; then this other guy sat down and said he didn’t recommend going to India because he worked there and hated it. I kept the conversation going even though I never said that I ever wanted to go to India. It would be nice, but I haven’t thought that much about it to be honest. What was I going to tell him though… they went off on it for a while; I paid the bartender, and told them about my encounter with Richard Simmons before I left. I don’t think she knew who Richard Simmons was but I didn’t want her to feel like an idiot. She started to tell some weird story about some other celebrity she saw today. She said that there was some comedian beeping at people and telling them to move…she thought he was a celebrity comedian or something [she thought when I told my story about Richard Simmons, that he was some comedian because he said something funny to me; she’d been drinking a little] but anyway the guy she thought was a famous comedian was just an airport shuttle driver. I can see how she could get them confused. She was a nice lady though.</p> <p class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="margin-left:0in;text-indent:0in"> I couldn’t eat all of my Catfish platter; they gave me a lot more than anyone could ever hope to eat, but the restaurant experience was good overall because I had nice people to talk to. Unfortunately, the catfish was really hot and I burnt my mouth all over, but remembering Richard Simmon’s<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>words took the sting away.</p> <p class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="margin-left:0in;text-indent:0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Times New Roman';">At any rate, I’m about get on my last flight to California. First class actually; cause that how I roll…fly…glide?</span></p>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-12239641131279165942009-02-10T13:52:00.003-05:002009-02-10T15:20:53.272-05:00Weird Dreams<div><br /></div><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/G8aHqZG_tsQ&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/G8aHqZG_tsQ&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><div>I had a strange dream last night that I want to share, not because it's symbolic or anything, but because I'm beginning to forget it. I woke up after the dream and told myself that I should remember this. Why? Maybe I was tired and it meant something too me at the time. I know for a fact that it had a emotional impact on me, and I guess I could analyze the dream and see why. Anyway, here's the dream with all the details that I can remember:</div><div><br /></div><div>I was with a group of people, and we were dressed relatively normal and traveling through various locations, wielding swords. I've seen the main location in my dreams before. It was sort of a creative office[like an advertising agency]/ museum. In a previous dream I was given a tour of the museum aspect and it was kind of like a fun house/ freak show and I was being stalked by something dark. Now, me and the group of adventurers were the hunters. Most of us were good and noble but you could tell there were a few bad-apples in the bunch, and they wore black.</div><div><br /></div><div>When we fought our enemies, the scene turned into something out of a Japanese Role Playing Game. I've never played one[and haven't played a video game in months], but in a Japanese RPG you are given certain skill points, magical items, and weapons that you are allowed to use when it's your turn in a fight. So, when we battled and it was our enemy's turn, we had to stand still and take their attacks; it went both ways. Some of our allies died in these battles, but could be revived after the battle was won. I don't remember too much about the battles, but I remember the rules. </div><div><br /></div><div>The part I told myself to really remember was this: we were in a dungeon now and of course there were treasure chests everywhere and we all went around opening them, and either got gold, potions, weapons, or magical items. I got a bird, a bluebird. I was a little disappointed, but then I read that it would assist me in my battles, and would damage my enemies automatically without wasting my "turn points". So, then I thought it was awesome! I put the bluebird on my shoulder and planned to explore more deeply into the dungeon, but then something happened. One of my "allies" got jealous and grabbed the bluebird off my shoulder and snapped it's neck, then he filleted it and ate the raw meat. I was furious, because I had connected with the bird and I owned it! I didn't kill the man, I just talked to him about it and he eventually asked for my forgiveness, but I didn't trust him. The dream ended with me feeling very negative.</div><div><br /></div><div>I really don't like when tiny animals get killed, it always makes me upset; especially when it's done on purpose, without reason, or, in other words: maliciously. Sure, he ate the meat, but I think he did it just to make me upset. We had plenty of fruit and turkey legs, so there was no reason why he should cut open <span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">my bird</span> and eat it in front of me! I remember asking him over and over "why would you do that?" It didn't make sense then, and it surely doesn't make sense now. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm sure it's all very symbolic; it reminds me of several things in my life where my friendship has been taken advantage of, and a friend goes behind my back and hurts my feelings. However, I didn't know this guy, but I'll remember his face, so when I see him in the future I'll know he can't be trusted. So, maybe it's a warning. I remember the man, more than I remember anything else in the dream. If or when I see him again, I will know not to trust him with my bluebirds. </div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-36998928019984143782009-02-03T11:05:00.002-05:002009-02-03T11:32:56.457-05:00Video Project<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Oo9buo9Mtos&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Oo9buo9Mtos&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><div>It's that time of the year again; FHE film festival time! I'm a pretty gifted film editor, and like making stupid little films. This year's project is a little ambitious. For an explanation of what type of effect I want our film to have, listen to the video above and replace the question of "what is best in life?" with this question "Orin! What's the 'take-home' message of your film?" Conan says it how it is and I would like to echo his response: "to crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and hear the lamentations of the women"</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm excited about this project, but it's taking me away from time where I could be working on my main project; my book. Progress has slowed down because I have no discipline. I will no longer allow myself to get caught up in TV shows [except for "24" on Mondays and "The Soup" on Fridays] I will no longer be distracted by video games. I will read more, think more, and create more. All will be well.</div><div><br /></div><div>The video project happens to be a parody of "Conan" movies, gangsta rap, and possibly Zombie movies too. It's going to be fun; I spent a few hours yesterday working on a script and had a meeting with the "crew" last night. I received some great creative input; now all I have to do is convert that to a product. </div><div><br /></div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-10739959635769311802009-01-28T17:27:00.004-05:002009-01-28T18:35:49.522-05:00Madness!My book is coming along very well, The first part is almost complete; I'm about ten chapters in. So, that's dandy and all, but sometimes when I'm on the outside looking in, I worry about my personal sanity. I've always thought I was kinda strange, but now as I'm going back and analyzing some stories of my past, I have become very concerned for myself. I remind myself of Dr. Frankenstein, when he's on the brink of his greatest scientific finds, he is also on the brink of insanity. Perhaps too, I will create a monster that will one day destroy me.<div><br /></div><div>I've never thought so much about my childhood and teenage years then I have recently. Other than when I was a child and teenager, of course. The more I write, the more I'm able to remember my past. Some of these things I haven't thought of since before my mission, and I suppose it's been like that for a reason. Sometimes you just need to move on from what has happened in the past, and not think about them. That's how I've dealt with most heartache at least. The longer I go without talking about things the happier and better off I am. Sometimes my Mom brings up some of the stuff that happened when I was fifteen and I get really depressed. I think, "I could have gone without being reminded of what time of the year it is." Right now, I'm doing it to myself by writing this book. The book just happens to be loosely based on my childhood, but written in a very different, creative way. It's a realistic view of my childhood, with all the names of the innocent changed for protection, but at the same time the main story is completely contrived and fantastical; allowing me to be fun and creative about it. So, it's Gonzo Journalism meets a ghost story, with a twist of insanity, and ADD. Gonzoastanitadd is what I'll call it! Haha!</div><div><br /></div><div>It's written in third person, so that's helped me distance myself from it a little; like I said I changed the names too, so it's almost like the little stories are about someone else, so that being said it's easier for me to write. It's been great therapy so far, and I think finally writing it and getting it out will help me put it in the past.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm mostly happy right now, I'm a little sick at the moment; I've got a fever or something and I'm sniffling a little. All is well however, and I hope all is well with you too. </div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-85591114518780402022009-01-20T12:24:00.002-05:002009-01-20T13:36:44.050-05:00Rate of FireWell, I'm going to try still keep my blog updated, but to let you in on something, I've started writing my book. So, I'm laying it down thick, and am devoting all of my efforts to reading and writing. My blog entries will probably be less frequent; but I would like to, at least, update it every week; but like I said most of my writing efforts are being focused on the big story. I started writing on Sunday and have gotten very far into the introduction; which is hilarious, because it's narrator gets very distracted and goes off on tangents. I have not even introduced any characters yet, besides the narrator; but he's definitely setting the story up through a set of thought provoking quandaries. I'm about ten pages in.<div><br /></div><div>I'm excited to keep writing, so I'll leave you with a follow up story to my last post, that I thought was kinda funny:</div><div><br /></div><div>I was still upset about not being able to donate blood and I was sharing my disappointment with my coworkers. I was upset mostly because I wasn't able to donate because my pressure was so high [which is a dumb reason], and we resolved as a group that humans just don't want my blood. However, Vampires are always looking for blood... they are an underfed sub-culture and need blood to live. So, supply and demand! I've got the stuff if you've got the money! I can sell my blood at discounted price because I make so much of it. Or an inflated price because I really didn't see too much of a market for it on the internet when I looked. Sure, you can buy gallons of fake blood on Ebay; but what about the real deal, premium grade, O negative crude? I was thinking about selling it by the vial[for snacks] or pint[for meals]; they'd sell like hot cakes! If the truth be told, a lot of Vampires have an identity crisis; most of them wish they didn't have to suck people's blood all the time. Some supposedly live on rats and all sorts of animals when they know what kind of blood they need to really live. Are you a Chupacabra or a Vampire? Anyway, It would give them a guilt free way of feeding themselves. They would know that I'm not going to die, so they're not killing anyone. So, it's win-win! I get rid of my excess blood and feel good, and they get rid of the rage that can control them if they go too long without it. An idea was suggested for a store front, but I don't know if I could supply that much. It would probably end up being more of a online service similar to Ebay, and my blood would auction off at unheard of prices. Disease free, low in cholesterol; a little high in iron, but that only adds to the flavor. If I'm not allowed to save the lives of the living, I might as well improve the lives of the undead. At least, that's how I look at it. </div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-10299754019527721172009-01-14T16:06:00.003-05:002009-01-14T22:16:55.241-05:00GeneticsSo, I try to go donate blood with a friend on Monday, and I get turned away because I fail the blood pressure test, for the hundredth time. You can't donate if your pressure goes above the high mark, and my did for sure. The phlebotomist tells me I should talk to some healthcare specialist, or check into the emergency room. I've heard similar speech a hundred times, so I tell the lady in a grumpy voice "Listen lady, I've had Hypertension ever since I was a little kid," They used to think I got nervous around doctors and that's what shot it up; it wasn't natural. Here I was, a skinny little kid with high-blood pressure; that doesn't make sense! Shouldn't I be a two-hundred pound six year old? No, I was just a little thing, and I remember going to Wal-Mart, and checking my pressure, I couldn't sit in the chair right even, and my arm was so skinny; how accurate could that be?<div><br /></div><div>Anyway, the phlebotomist is sitting there looking scared out of her mind, as if she was going to witness a death or something, and I'm just like whatever... but honestly, I was a very disappointed. I went and sat down at the table where the snacks were for the people who actually donated while I waited for my friend. It was a good moment for me to sit and reflect while my blood pressure climbed higher and higher; because I was really angry with myself; frustrated is a better word for how I was feeling. Why? Well, I've been getting a lot of exercise lately. Right now, I'm running about two miles straight in fifteen minutes. I'm losing weight and am starting to look good naked; I should have said better naked cause I always look good. I've also been eating somewhat healthy, taking vitamins, and generally taking good care of myself. So why can't I be healthy like anyone else?</div><div><br /></div><div>The phlebotomist suggested genetics and I said "maybe," but I hadn't heard of any of my family having "the silent killer" when they were growing up. They do now! Lot's of them have had strokes and whatnot. Nobody's died from heart problems, however. Everybody in my family dies of cancer, do I dare to be different?</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes I do, actually I think it's the fact that I am different that makes me have this weird "health complication". Maybe it's evolution, maybe it's some crazy suppressed gene that might have been necessary in the past. Think about this... this might seem sick to some of you, but I actually get pleasure out of giving blood. It feels very good, I think it actually relieves some of the built up pressure. I remember reading about how they use to "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blood_letting">bloodlett</a>" back in the day to stop strokes and for many other health related reasons. I get pleasure out of bleeding; even if I get cut and blood starts to gush, it amplifies any situation I'm in. However, let me say; I've never cut myself to make myself feel better, it's always been on accident. Like during a sport if I get cut I never feel it, but i feel this great burst of energy... I later find out that I'm bleeding, and everyone freaks a little. Bloodletting is mostly seen as harmful now, but I was angry that I wasn't able to donate for that reason. Can you please release some of my built up pressure! It would make me feel better.</div><div><br /></div><div>Why do I think I have high blood pressure? Well, I think I my body produces a lot of blood. More blood than normal! Like when I've actually donated blood, they only take a pint... I never even feel it, and I wish they would take two so I could save 6 lives, instead of just three lousy lives. I'm O negative, it's the universal blood donor type. Maybe I'm like this so I can save more lives, but alas! I can't pass the pressure test. Maybe, my ancestors were warriors... they might, have very well been Vikings, who were known for their bloodlust. Maybe, I'm genetically compensating for expectant blood loss. Maybe I'm supposed to get in fights every once in a while, maybe even a sword fight or two. Overall, I feel healthy; I'm a little amped most of the time but that goes with living on the edge of sanity and I've tiptoed across that line back and forth since birth. </div><div><br /></div><div>OOPS got to go to work! </div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8918054332619390679.post-34258577523015573572009-01-11T17:19:00.003-05:002009-01-11T19:22:04.986-05:00Women?!=) ;(Well, I'm discouraged with women. I was going to do some reading before I wrote this entry, but I'm too distracted. I've just heard too many stories, and have been involved in many tragic relationships over the last few years, and it makes me not want to even be in one. <div><br /></div><div>It's not true though, I do want to be in one[a relationship], but ya'll don't understand; I've got issues! I use to be quite a lovable little boy; my parents say the use to call me "Orin kissy-face"; but it wore off somehow, and I became an angry boy, who'd get in fights for no reason. People use to say I would walk around school looking like I was going to punch somebody in the face all the time. Before that, I use to always want to be around someone kissing them all the time. That's how I want to be now, but I don't really have the opportunity. One day I'll write about why my mood changed... it's very complicated and will take a minute, so I'll save it for a time when I really want to write about it; it's not overly pertinent to the topic at hand. </div><div><br /></div><div>The topics at hand are: </div><div>"Why can't we have a happy relationship?" </div><div>"Why do we have so many fears when it comes to getting involved?" and</div><div>"Who know what else, I have ADD and probably wont stay on topic" </div><div><br /></div><div>I've seen a lot of relationships recently be doomed by separation and divorce. It's happened to a few of my friends lately and they're really having a hard time adjusting to being single again. It's always hard for me after I've been with someone so long, I almost can't imagine how hard it would be to have been married, then get a divorce, and try to hang out with "the guys" again. I wouldn't know what to do!</div><div><br /></div><div>It reminds me of my mission. I was so use to being with someone all the time that when I actually got home and had nobody... well, it depressed the crap out of me! I was very happy when my buddies Jordan and Mike got home. It was almost like I was a missionary again, except I was jaded at that point. Women were still, and still are a mystery; but back then I failed on the approached. "All I wanted was somebody to love me, I didn't mean to scare you!" I scared a lot of girls back then, telling them I loved them; I would get terribly jealous for no reason... it was awful. I don't get as bad now, but sometimes it gets me down.</div><div><br /></div><div>What gets me down worse is when you hear about somebody, a friend of mine, put his heart on the line for a girl, only to get it ripped out. He'd been in love with this girl since forever. He told me, he remembered the first time he saw her. He said she was walking in slow motion; he took it all in. He knew that he was going to love that girl. He did; he fell in love. Over the years they became really good friends, but they never dated; he wanted to, but she was dating all these jerks... but he was going to be her friend, for sure. So he was; he was her best friend. </div><div><br /></div><div>She went to live with her Dad at some point because she was having problems... an entire galaxy of problems. But he didn't care he was going to love her no matter what kind of problems she had; he was going to be her best friend. He'd go up there to visit; help her Dad with repairs, be a good friend to the family, everyone loved the guy. Members of that family are some of his best friends. She loved him. She told him she loved him, but it wasn't romantic yet. I might have been interpreted as a loving friendship. But she did tell him, if she would ever marry anybody, it would have been him or some other douche she dated for years.</div><div><br /></div><div>He got an idea in his head, "Well, maybe I'll propose to her," he thought. When he told me, I was nervous but really excited because he was really excited. He had a new glow about him, you could really tell that he was happy. He bought a ring, and proposed to her; she said yes! Now he was really happy. I really thought she would say no; I really had my doubts, but she said yes and I was glag for him. He was even happier! </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, to make a long story short, he goes up there to surprise her and it turns out that she's hanging out with the douche she use to date for the day and had made out with him. She tells my friend that she was trying to see where they were at; to see if the douche were okay with her getting married or whatever, but that's bullshiz!!! How can you do that to somebody you love? Well, either you don't really love them, or you just have an entire galaxy of problems to deal with. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, hearing stories like this scares me. Hearing stories about terrible divorces and with children involved, scares me more. I've heard a lot lately, and I'm worried that I'm gonna get caught up and make my own set of mistakes, and make my life more miserable; if that's even possible!!! Just kiddin on that last part, but this entry needed a little comic relief; it was a desperate move.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I'm worried I'm attracted to the wrong women sometimes. It's okay, it's part of growing, but I hate making mistakes. I'm a perfectionist who never gets anything right, so I'm doomed to be miserable forever. One day I'll figure it all out, and people will come to me. They'll journey from all over the world to get on my island, climb my mountain, and enter my sanctum, where they'll be greeted by the smells of incense and peace. There they will ask me the answers to all their problems, and I will say "Can't you see I have more problems then I can even deal with?! Why do you think I live on this island, away from everything?! I can't deal with this right now!!!! Get outa here!" </div><div> </div>Orinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06947832857523419345noreply@blogger.com2