Random Morning Thoughts

It is so quiet this morning that as I sit at my desk I can hear the beep of the crosswalk on the streetcorner outside. Every time I hear it I am jealous of whatever person is crossing the street because they are outside. I imagine that they were at work, just like me, until finally they snapped and said, "THIS IS THE ONLY LIFE I GET AND I'M NOT SELLING IT TO YOU!!!!!!" and they ran out the door and down the street. Now they are on their way home to start a new life. Good Luck!

In the bathroom I heard a guy in the stall talking on his phone. At least I hope he was talking on his phone. He said, "Ugh. Mmm. Huh. Yeah, just give it to me and I'll fire it right out to you." I love cell phones.

Then as I was on my way back to my desk I stopped to fill my cup up with water. Now, I know it has to do with pressure and things that I don't really understand, but I find it disturbing that the water fountain dribbles and dribbles until someone in the bathroom flushes, then suddenly a flood of water comes out of the fountain. Now I can't shake the feeling that the water tastes funny.

'Nother Dream

I went to bed way early last night because I was depressed. Whenever I get enough sleep I have dreams. Sad that I don't dream very much. Usually these dreams are cool.

Last night I dreamed that I lived in a relatively small town. In that town there was an old house/library that was situated in the center of a strip mall. I don't know if the other stores were built around the house or if it was originally part of the strip. The house had been owned by one of the old founders of the community and he had been rich and eccentric. It was generally rumored that he had not left the entirety of his estate to anyone when he died, but no one knew exactly what he had done with it. Legends were that it was hidden in the house some where.

As luck would have it I knew where. There was a secret passage that pretty much everyone knew about in a book shelf. That passage led to a giant library with a beautiful sitting area and fireplace. Behind the fireplace was one of many shelves that contained books and odd nick-nacks that the old man had collected over the years. Among the nick-nacks I had discovered a button.

Somehow, however, I was not the only one who had discovered the button. A rich female celebrity had also learned the truth and, as TV would suggest is always the case, arrived at the house at the same time as I. We both brought and entorage and there were cameras rolling.

I am not certain of who the rich celebrity was. When I first awoke I thought it was J. K. Rowling. But later I thought it might have been Martha Stewart. She had longish blong hair, she wore all black, though not skin tight, and she was wicked-cold. What's more she was rich and totally did not need the money or the fame of discovering said fortune.

She got to the button first. However, when the mystery button was pushed the treasure was not revealed. There was a tast that had to be performed. The task was such that only someone who had studied the old man's life would know exactly where and what to do. After the first task other tasks followed. The celebrity and I were always neck in neck to completing each task; she'd win one and I'd win the next, until finally a giant door was revealed. Finally we came to the last taks and we were instructed to speak the word that defined these four things and the door would open. The four things were spoken, but they were all so different that no one present could conceive of a single word that incorporated all of them. Puzzled, we all stared at the giant door. One by one everyone left the library until the lady and I were alone. Then she left and I stood there staring at the barrier that kept me from fortune.

When I woke up I tried to remember the four things that the word was supposed to define, but I could not. There was an ephemeral memory of one or two examples, but those quickly faded. Oh well.

Good Greif!

When is that flying animation finally going to drop off into the archives. It has messed up the format of this blog for several months now.

Good News! I got a new idea in a flash of inspiration last night as the cats turned something over downstairs and I thought my house was being burgled. I wasn't being burgled. After I checked under every couch for woefully skinny intruders I headed back upstairs to bed. On the way I got an idea for ANOTHER BOOK I'LL NEVER FINISH!

I'm so excited at the prospects of not finishing yet another project and pushing all my other projects deep into the labrynth of incompletion. I never finish anyth


ps. I am a born again nose doucher.

Champaign Nasal Spray

My name is Michael. That is the English-male version of the name. Not to be confused with Michelle. The English-female version. See, we spell them differently so you don't get confused and accidentally call a guy Michelle. I have a small amount of forgiveness stored up inside of me for those Europeans who are used to calling men Michelle, but none for those native English speakers who look at my name and say Michelle. You'd be surprised how many substitute teachers during my public school years called me Michelle; subsequently paving the way for all of my "friends" in class thinking it was funny and calling me that for the rest of the day. I guess the joke was that if they called me Michelle it somehow made me less male.

Most people these days get my name right. The clever ones who aren't certain, and can't tell by looking at me, usually ask, "What do you go buy?" And I say, "Michael." They usually nod and make a mental note that the person before them is not a Michelle/woman, but a Michael/man. My doctor, for example, calls me Michael. She has a thick file on me and inside I assume there is a black and white outline of a person on which she has probably drawn a penis. Next to the hand drawn penis is probably a little arrow pointing from it to a note that says "Michael, not Michelle." My doctor knows I'm a man.

So imagine my surprise yesterday when my doctor told me that the answer to my allergy and sinus issues was to DOUCHE! Yes, you read that correctly. I was ordered by my doctor to "douche" my nose several times a day. And she didn't just say the word once, she said it two or three times. She didn't say to irrigate it. She did say once to rinse it. But by and large she used the word douche. I am to douche my nose with saline, which is essentially salt water.

So far I have given my nose two salt water douches and I tell you what, it isn't doing f***ing sh** for me.

Dream

I had another weird dream last night. I lived in a different house, in a different town, and in what seemed like a different time. The dream time/place in which I lived was reminiscent of the Goon Docks from Goonies.

Anyway, in my dream the world was coming to an end. Not a violent end. Not a religious end. Just and end, and everyone knew about it. It was understood and it was sad, but everyone knew that at midnight on a certain night, approaching rapidly, the world would stop, and so would all of the people in it. Everyone was pretty much resigned and peaceful about the whole ordeal; I suppose because they couldn't do anything about it. There was no science that could find a new planet, no engineering that could redirect an errant asteroid, and no prayer to a long forgotten god that could stop the end. So everyone pretty much went about their lives.

Now, I have a wife and two children and in my dreams it was the same. But for some reason, on the last day, I got it in my head that I wanted to be at Cartoon Network when it all went into the crapper, and not with my family. So, as the last day is winding down I hop in the car and head on into the city.

Luckily I had an epiphany before it was too late and I realized I would rather be with my family when it ends than with some strangers. So I turn my car around and headed home, with barely enough time to get back.

Then, on the way home, the solution occurred to me. For some reason I realized that the world was comming to an end because, by some stroke of chance, all of the VCR in creation were set to the same time and were properly functioning. So when all the clocks reached midnight at the same time it would cause some kind of cosmic fart and we'd all stop.

The solution then became clear. All I had to do was reset our VCR clock. Then they would not all be the same and life would go on. There was a catch, however. When I got home my wife did not want me to mess with the VCR. She understood my explanation and the purpose it would serve. But she had the VCR set to record the end of the world and she didn't want to miss it. Furthermore, the VCR clock was finally right and she did not think to highly of intentionally miss-setting it. Afterall, if all it took to end the world was everyone's clock being right, what was the guarantee this wouldn't happen again.

In spite of my wife's protests I reset the clock. But did I get to reap the benefits of saving mankind? Did I get a huge house and a key to the universe? No. I got to wake up because my bladder was full.

So, I think it is important for all of you out there to know that I saved the world last night. A little gratitude would be appreciated.