Twisted Ending

Like most humans, I frequently dream. Some of these dreams take place during my conscious hours, but most take place while I'm asleep. And, again - I think - like most humans, I tend not to remember probably 90% of my slumbering dreams. Typically, when I first wake, I will remember possibly 40% or so of what took place in my sub consciousness during the night. Within the first ten minutes or so, that's probably dropped to about 20% and it then falls exponentially through the day until absolutely nothing remains. Very seldom do I vividly remember dreams for any period of time, and then it is only when something spectacular happens. This has happened only a handful of times in my lifetime:

 
 

1. When I was in second grade (I deduce that I was in second grade, though I actually have no real memory of a specific date), I dreamt that I saw a red fox sneaking up on my second grade teacher. Not wanting her to be eaten, I picked up a rock and through it at the fox. The fox turned, ran over to me, then bit of my hands. Oddly, at the time, I really didn't like my teacher and my attitude was actually one of not caring whether a fox attacked her or not.
   
2. My most common re-occurring dream (which I no longer have, and haven't had since elementary school), took place in the first several years after my grandmothers died (they died approximately one year apart from each other). In these dreams, typically I would be doing normal kid stuff when one of my two grandmothers would just show up out of nowhere and begin to ask me questions. I knew they were dead, and was quite frightened, but yet didn't want the dream to end.
   
3. I once realized mid-dream that I was dreaming. At that moment, I could pretty much do whatever I wanted. I began flying and doing generally very cool things. It was an amazing/strange experience.
   
4. Between my freshman and sophomore years of college, probably my most frightening dream-experience took place. I dreamt that I was talking to my grandfather and, during our conversation, his face began contorting and he appeared to be demon-possessed. In the dream, I pointed at him and shouted, "Get out!" only to wake myself up by my own audible voice. This same general theme has happened two or three times sense then - none of them as vivid (I can't remember any one individual or any of the situations that were taking place), but with the same reaction of waking up to my own audible voice. None of them were as freaky as the first, which left me unable to sleep and in somewhat of a cold-sweat.
   

    
    

   Last night, however, I had an entirely new dream experience that previously I would have thought completely impossible. Unfortunately, I remember none of the true details. It wasn't a very vivid dream, but more of a concept that seems unlikely. My dream had a twisted ending. Basically, all through the dream, a series of circumstances happened that seemed odd. Unfortunately, I've forgotten all but one, which was watching two guys shake hands. This event had significance in the dream itself, but I can't remember what.
   

    
    

   As foggy as the details are, I distinctly remember getting to the end of the dream, seeing one of these again, and then he told me his true identity, which made many of the other events in the dream - including the hand shake - take on an entirely different significance than my subconscious initially told me that these events had.
   

    
    

   The sensation was something similar to when you first discovered Haley Joel Osment only talked to Bruce Willis because he was dead or that Russell Crowe didn't actually work for the CIA. I find it strange and somewhat unsettling to think that my subconscious was actively trying to trick my consciousness.
   

    
    

   It will be interesting to see if this theme becomes reoccurring. And, if so, will I become more paranoid?
   

    
    

   Anyone else have weird dreams?
   

Late Night Ramblings

If you were my friend anytime between 1999 and 2005, and were unlucky enough to have given me your email address, you know that I used to be an avid writer. I won't necessarily go so far as saying I was an entertaining or informative writer, per say, but I do believe that avid sums it up quite nicely. I would regularly have an idea – either fictional or theoretical – and simply spend the time to write it down and quickly make it known to anyone who bothered to read.

Unfortunately for me, though maybe fortunately for anyone who was, again, unlucky enough to have given me your email address, sometime in the fall of 2005 a massive, five year long writer's block attacked me. This period was a very busy and stressful time in my life as I was in the middle of an intense internship that left very little time for creativity. The ideas I did have, I did not take the time to write down. I fell out of the habit of regularly transferring my thoughts to paper. Later, when free time and creative thinking time again became an option, I was completely dry. My head was void. I could think of nothing unique or worth writing down. I found my writings unfunny or un-provocative. I was easily distracted. Many times, I would ramble on about how much I lamented my writer's block and wished there would be something worth writing about.

Tonight, as I lay in my bed wide-awake from insomnia for the third night in a row, I've decided to give it another shot. Ultimately, I realized that I had nothing better to do (besides sleep, which wasn't happening anyway) in addition to a mildly, funny-at-the-time-anyway story. My ultimate goal in this instance is not necessarily to draw applause and laugher at this point (though I would accept both, even in the form of pity), but to hopefully jumpstart the creative juices once again.

As always, please try to keep in mind my web-rules for writing and understand my mind. If you are unfamiliar with these rules – which at one time were posted on my heavily trafficked website – feel free to inquire and they will be made available.

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My day started with a bang and ended with a fizzle.

Actually, that is probably not the most accurate, but that seemed like a very good line to start with. In actuality, the day, just like any other, started with a fizzle, which proceeded to a sizzle, then – remarkably – slowed to a simmer, then ended with a bang.

Again, that makes for a nice introduction, but is not necessarily truthful.

Remarkably unremarkable, my day actually began with breakfast. Molly, my beautiful bride of just over two years, woke me up to two tasty buttermilk biscuits and an deliciously fried egg. And a glass of sour orange juice. The orange juice, actually, was my fault. I had left it out on the counter overnight. It was a brand new bottle, and I guess Molly wanted to make a point. We'd recently been having arguments over her need to remind me to do certain tasks. I tried to explain to her that she has a profound attention to detail, and that – combined with her repetitive nature – could, by some, be seen as "nagging." However, with my infinite patience, I understood it as what it truly was.

Annoying.

I kindly, generously explained to my beautiful bride that I simply did not need to be reminded of things. I know what days the garbage runs, and will always have the can to the road on time. I understand that certain outlets don't work and will replace them soon. My teeth will always be brushed before we go into public. The dishes will be washed by the end of the day. And I PROMISE that I am not dumb enough to leave the orange juice out on the counter over night. The very idea is an insult to my intelligence!

"In fact," I said, "I will not even dignify that comment with a response."

"Fine, but you're the butt-hecker that left it on the counter. And when you forget to put it away, you'll be in the one going to Rouses to buy a new one."

"My dear Molly, this will never happen. I will place it in the refrigerator after I finish my glass."

"Fine, but if it is left on the counter over night, you will be the one going to Rouses to buy a new one."

"You just said that! I get it!"

"I just want to make sure I'm being clear."

"You are being more than clear. You are being repetitive. If you worked for a government agency, it would be the Office of the Department of Repetitiveness Office."

"Excuse me?"

"Molly Manning, the department head for the Office of the Department of Repetitiveness Office, whose job it is to ensure that the department stays repetitive and repeats the official duties of the department. Her job description, as written, is to oversee the Office of the Department of Repetitiveness Office – which in turn documents the repetitiveness of the official duties therein."

"What are you talking about?"

"I will pick the orange juice up."

"Fine, but if it is left on the counter over night, you will be the one going to Rouses to buy a new one."

"I love you, Sweetie."

"I'm going to bed now. I love you, too."

As Molly left the room, I took another sip of my orange juice and finished the last original episode of Battlestar Galactica. I had been having my own mini-marathon that day, which, ironically, gave me a strange craving for a glass of orange juice.

About twenty minutes into the episode, though, something strange began to happen. Though the series was fairly intriguing, my eyelids began to remind me that they had not been closed for nearly eighteen hours. They now requested that this fact be rectified.

As I stood and began to walk toward the kitchen, a strange and unfortunate series of events began to unfold.

First, my cat decided to bite me on the foot.

This happened for no real good reason other than the fact that my cat likes to randomly bite me on the foot.

Next, I shouted in pain and dropped my glass.

The glass fell to the floor, broke, and shattered.

My cat bit my other foot.

I shouted, jumped, and landed on a piece of glass.

Blood began to protrude from two cat bites and a shard of glass shoved up my tendon.

I hobbled to the sofa and ripped the shard out of my tendon. I then hobbled to the bathroom, threw the shard in the waste-basket, and bandage my feet. I sneaked quietly into my room, put on a pair of socks, went back to the kitchen and swept/mopped up the bloody, orangey, glassy mess I had created.

I then angrily logged onto Facebook and complained of my frustration with the cat.

After shutting down my computer, I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and then went directly to bed, thinking for hours of many curses and other non-humane disposal methods for cats that stupidly bite feet for no apparent reason.

Many of you, at this point, quickly realize what didn't take place.

Unfortunately, I didn't realize until my wife lovingly woke me up, served me a plate of tasty buttermilk biscuits, a deliciously fried egg, and a glass of sour orange juice.

Needless to say, I spent a fair amount of time this morning at the local grocery store buying, not just orange juice, but many other items to make up for it – including several bouquets of flowers, a big chocolate bar, and a large "I'm Stupid" sticker that I then wore for the remainder of the day.

Now, adios. Thank you for your patronage. I must now return to bed.

Right after I pick up the milk.

Nicholls New Mascot

Obama Wants the US to Have High-Speed Rail Service

Last week, President Obama meet with U.S. Department of Tranportation officials for a photo-op for the 2,oooth highway project becoming funded for ARRA (stimulus) funds.  While there, he gave a speech concerning high-speed rail and gave the following quote:

We also have to build a new foundation for our future growth. Today, our aging system of highways and byways, air routes, and rail lines is hindering that growth .... What we’re talking about is a vision for highspeed rail in America. Imagine boarding a train in the center of a city. No racing to an airport and across a terminal, no delays, no sitting on the tarmac, no lost luggage, no taking off your shoes. Imagine whisking through towns at speeds over 100 miles an hour, walking only a few steps to public transportation,and ending up just blocks from your destination. Imagine what a great project that would be to rebuild America.

Generally, I'd be all for high-speed rail. I think it's a great, convenient way to travel. I do think having centrally located rail stations in the middle of big cities would be helpful. However, I am concerned about safety and security. Am I reading too much into his line about "no taking off your shoes", or can I assume there is a lack of security preparations being made for these imagined high-speed rail stations?

The Wedding Banquet

I read this passage of scripture in Matthew 22 this morning:

1 Jesus spoke to them again in parables, saying: 2 "The kingdom of heaven is like a king who prepared a wedding banquet for his son. 3 He sent his servants to those who had been invited to the banquet to tell them to come, but they refused to come.

 4 "Then he sent some more servants and said, 'Tell those who have been invited that I have prepared my dinner: My oxen and fattened cattle have been butchered, and everything is ready. Come to the wedding banquet.'

 5 "But they paid no attention and went off—one to his field, another to his business. 6 The rest seized his servants, mistreated them and killed them. 7 The king was enraged. He sent his army and destroyed those murderers and burned their city.

 8 "Then he said to his servants, 'The wedding banquet is ready, but those I invited did not deserve to come. 9 Go to the street corners and invite to the banquet anyone you find.' 10 So the servants went out into the streets and gathered all the people they could find, both good and bad, and the wedding hall was filled with guests.

 11 "But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing wedding clothes. 12 'Friend,' he asked, 'how did you get in here without wedding clothes?' The man was speechless.

 13 "Then the king told the attendants, 'Tie him hand and foot, and throw him outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.'

 14 "For many are invited, but few are chosen." 

This is a passage I've read numerous times, but I'm always surprised when I get to vs. 13. I'm always expecting it to read, "Then the king told the attendants, 'Get this man some nice clothing. Buy him a suit and give him a nice tie.'" 

It seems many people focus on the "loving" and "merciful" aspect of God, and say the God of the Old Testament is different in personality than the one in the New Testament. It's interesting to think, though, that there will be many people who "show up to the banquet" in heaven, before God, only to be cast out of His presence because they aren't prepared.  

I think there is an important distinction to draw - it is through the mercy of the king that the man was invited to the wedding in the first place. God's mercy and grace give man an opportunity to approach Him, to seek forgiveness of sin. However, it is still the man's responsibility to be "dressed appropriately" once the party starts. I think so many people today coast by thinking, "God is loving and merciful. He'll let me into heaven because I'm a nice guy" when the truth is that we need to be a little more prepared than that.

Thoughts?

The Man Garden

Believe it or not, the J-Mann has started a garden. And this ain't one of those namby-pamby "grow-it-in-a-bucket" gardens, but it's a real life, big sized, Man Garden.

Gardening was something I had the misfortune of participating a lot in as a kid. Many, many weekends were spent over at Peepa's house digging holes, watering, and hoeing. It wasn't something I enjoyed doing so much back then. I preferred fishing, shooting things, playing sports, or tormenting the neighbor kid. "Work" was not something I looked forward to, and I quite often looked for ways to get out of it.

As I age, though, strange things are happening. As I go to work and return home every day, I tire of the routine. I look for something more to do besides watching a seemingly endless stream of crime/medical dramas. I've read some good books recently, but even that has its drawbacks as I'm only able to sit still for so long sometimes.

Back to the garden, though. Molly and I are growing potatoes, tomatoes, onions, green beans, cucumbers, and peppers. Lots and lots of peppers. We also put some seeds in the ground for lettuce and spinach, but nothing has come up so far. My goal is to make my own salsa and hot sauce. If I'm able to accomplish this goal, and if it is any good, I'll share some of it with those who are interested.

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