Late night status update goes overboard.

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.

Status update:

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.

Appendix:

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.

Anywho, I've got to go to work.

Beyonce and Dental Floss

So 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.

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"!

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.

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.

A scary dream!

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!

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:

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

So, it's been a while.

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!

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.

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!

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] and the third Harry Potter book [107,253 words= 448 book pages] . 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.

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.

The 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.

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.

The Recurring Dream I Have:

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.

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.       

 

Drug 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. 

This episode I watched last night induced a strange dream in me last night that I would like to share before it's forgotten:

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.

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.

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.

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! 

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.     

       

Ramble 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. 

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?

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.

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. 

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.