Archive for March, 2005

Oh how wonderful it feels to finally have time to write once again. As you all know spring break has finally arrived for Scott; he once again has ample time to read, write, work, or do whatever he pleases. Instead of going to parties, taking trips to the beach, or any of that other “normal nineteen year old guy spring break stuff”, Scott seems astonishingly content in working on menial tasks in the confines of his room. At last, unplagued by homework, class work, and impending test dates, Scott not only has the ability and the means but also the desire to sit down and transcribe his mind into the clean and infinitely large canvas containing a collection of thoughts he so cherishes – his cozy little weblog.

I have so many things I want to say but I feel as if I have no order or reason behind doing so. As much as I’d like to write simply for the sake of writing, I know I owe it to myself to (every once and a while) write what I think, how I feel, what I want, and what I have. I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to end up writing about tonight, but I hope it’s nothing I’m going to be embarrassed about later on. I try my best to keep this website private. While thousands of people view it every month, I try my hardest to keep it away from the people I actually know in person. I want to be able to feel like I can write about anything (ideas, thoughts, hopes, dreams, aspirations, longings, and everything else) and I do so by knowing that the words I write tonight will not be read by anybody I see. As of this moment, I can think of only a very small handful of people that I see regularly who even know I have a website, much less a weblog where I write about essentially everything that happens in the most private container of my mind. Time after time again I come here and write what I think purely to get it off my chest. Once I’ve written it down, I can let it go. Once I’ve written it down, I can stop worrying about it! Once I’ve written it down, I can stop longing for it. This blog provides me a permanent shelter for the writings contained within it which give closure to a churning mind.

Well, I’d might as well do my best to get the possibly embarrassing material out of the way! For some reason, I’ve been dreaming a lot more lately. Then again, apparently we [humans] dream all the time, but we only remember the dreams that we wake up during. My guess as to why I’ve so suddenly begun to have dreams (and quite vivid ones at that) is the fact that my sleeping schedule has been changed. No longer is my body awakened at an awkward time of the morning by an alarm clock, but rather startled awake in the middle of the morning by loud crashing sounds made by two little sisters. Yes, normally I’ve awakened, showered, dressed, and left before the little ones get up. However, startled out of my dreams and being able to remember them lately, I’ve been somewhat surprised (dare I say impressed?) at their content. I’ll warn you guys, this is probably going to seem a little mushy (especially to those who have just recently started following my writings) but I’ve decided to write about it anyway. Some day, years in the future, I’ll look back on these days and these writings and cherish my words infinitely more than I’d regret writing them from some menial embarrassment. I’m a person, and I have thoughts and feelings just like everyone else. The only thing that sets me apart from those who remain silent is that I’m not afraid to speak about mine. Well, perhaps that’s not entirely true; I certainly am seemingly afraid to speak about my thoughts to anyone other than complete and total strangers on the internet. Anyhow, I’ll move right along and start with the first (and my favorite) little story that played in my head while I was asleep.

Yes, I proposed to somebody. No, not in real life; I’m still talking about one of the dreams I had this week, remember? Did she say yes? Not exactly, but I guess you’ll have to read the rest of this paragraph to figure out exactly what I mean. See, now I’ve captured your interest. :^_-: Well, let’s see; where shall I begin? My cute little story takes place sometime in the future (obviously) but I’m not sure of my exact age. I still feel young because I seem to have a lot of energy even though this happens at 5am. Yes, five in the morning folks. My dream essentially is a walkthrough of my day. Some people say that you only dream in the first person (always seeing through your own eyes) but for me, this is simply not the case. I dream as if I’m watching a movie, with scene cuts and viewing myself from the side. I see myself looking at the alarm clock going off at five in the morning, but instead of my usual moan I curl up a little bit and smile, then reach over to turn it off and gently stand up. (I guess I still sleep on the floor?) The scene cuts, and then I see myself fifteen minute later (after having showered and dressed) as I’m examining my clothes. I was wearing khaki shorts with some large pockets on the sides (which is strange, because I don’t even own any) and a light blue t-shirt. My hair was still moist from the shower, but I went ahead and put jell in it anyway. I slipped my glasses on and squirted-on a small bit of cologne and smiled once again, then walked out. The house I was in wasn’t familiar; it wasn’t my current house, but I’m not sure what house it was. Perhaps it’s in the future when I have my own house. Anyhow, still dark, I hopped in my car and drove a short distance to this house. I can’t describe it well, only saying that it was made of very dark wood. I lightly knocked on the front door, and looked at my watch. It was still early in the morning. I hear quiet footsteps approaching the door and then a perky little head pops out and smiles. For the woman who I am evidentially considering asking to become my fiancé, during the entire dream I can’t recall even a single aspect about what she looks like. For example, I know she smiled, but I can’t see it. The one thing that I do know for sure is that she had dark hair (maybe dark red, brown, or black, just not light blond or something). Anyhow, she was already dressed and ‘ready’ like me and she was wearing kaki shorts as well but with a nice looking white button-down shirt. She hopped in the car and we drove off.

Flashing forward once again, about an hour into the drive I have this scene where it feels like it’s out of a movie. The camera is rested just outside of my window looking into the car and directly out of the window of the girl sitting in the passenger seat. I can seem myself looking at the road, and her staring in the same direction. Then she slowly turns her head and looks at me for a little bit, and a few seconds later I turn my head to look at her and we both see each other and she smiles again and I chuckle (Why? I don’t know; it’s a dream). Another flash forward later and all the sudden I’m walking on the beach with her. It’s still dark outside, and there’s no one else around; we’re alone on the sand right where the water meets the shore. There’s a slow but warm moist breeze blowing from behind us as we walk along the shoreline. For some reason, we’re not talking. Come to think of it, not a word was said all morning (at least in the part of my dream that I saw). I was standing on her left, between her and the water. We were both barefoot, and I could feel the moist hard sand beneath my feet. The clouds were beginning to turn pink to my left over the ocean, and the sun was about to come up but hadn’t quite yet. Since I was walking along the shoreline with the sun to my left in the morning, I must be heading south… which means I’d be on the east cost of some shore. Interesting. Anyhow, the wind direction changed a little bit and started blowing onto shore from the ocean. I looked to my right at “her” and she looked in my direction as well. The wind caught her hair a little and It blew back a little, almost as if she were falling. There, right there. See that image? That’s the single moment I remember most. Looking at her, with the morning sun barely lighting her face (but still unrecognizable) with the outline of her hair blowing gently behind her; it’s simply amazing. I kept looking at her. The more I looked at her, the more I wanted to keep looking. It felt like one of those moments in life where you could press pause and live in that very instant for all eternity and still love every second of it. With the slight quiver of laugher in her voice she spoke…

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Okay folks, are you ready for this? I think embarrassment is too weak of a word, perhaps humiliation? Right about now I’m asking myself “Scott, why are you writing this.” Yet, for some [still-unknown] reason, I feel both a desire and an obligation to do so. I know why I think like this; it’s because I fill my mind with all these crazy South Korean romantic melodramas. I’m essentially creating my own, of me, in my life. Yet, I enjoy it. So, being aware of some mushy dialogue but being able to continue writing anyway, I have no choice but to press on. I feel like I’m writing a story. Yes, that’s it! I’m writing a story people. A story okay? I have no obligation to keep it masculine. Oh yeah, the perspective switched to the first person again, so I’m looking through my own eyes. Anyhow, continuing my story I’ll repeat what “she” said. “Why are you staring at me like that?” I looked at her and returned a little smile as I replied “Because you’re so beautiful.” I paused, but just for a moment, to let the words sink in and to give a second for me to think. The sun was just starting to come up, and I could begin to more clearly see her face as she continued to look at me as I continued, “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” She looked away from me and looked at the sand in front of her (probably trying to hide either a blush or a smile; however being that it was still a little dark I wouldn’t have known anyway). Still, she said nothing, and I continued, speaking slower and slower as my words slowly sounded through the morning air. “…And I want to spend the rest of my life with you, so I can wake up, to see you, like this, every day.” Perhaps it was the seriousness of my voice or maybe the fact that at that instant she realized what was happening that caused her smile to fade into an expression of inquiry as she looked away from the sand in front of her and stared directly into my eyes. Looking at her like this, with her face reflecting the sun and her hair dancing in the wind and her eyebrows gently curving upwards as if asking “what did you say?” I noticed we had somehow stopped walking. For some reason, in my dream, the rest happened incredibly quickly. After getting down on my knee, I pulled a ring from my pocket and asked her to marry me. She said nothing, but must have nodded or something (I’m guessing) because I somehow knew the answer to her question was yes. After sliding the ring on her finger and standing up (now standing with her in front of me and the water to my left and the sun to our side) I looked at her, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking somewhere behind me, down, and to my right a little. Her hair was covering her face. She didn’t try to move it. Wondering what was going on, I reached up my left hand and gently caught it in the fold between my thumb and forefinger and held it back to her ear. I then realized why she was looking away, because I could see the sunlight reflecting in small tears. She looked back up at me and hugged me, and I hugged her back. With our heads on each others shoulders, we just stood there, for what seemed like minutes on end. No “yes”, no kiss, just a tear and a hug. The End.

Congratulations Scott, you just committed social suicide. Yeah, well, anyway, I thought it was ‘cute’ to say the least. (While I’m in the process of shredding what masculinity I still carry with me I figure I can use words like ‘cute’ and ‘pretty’) As a little post-note to that story I thought it was interesting that the scene I just described was somewhat like (but not that similar to) one I was trying to write into that story I had to stop working on, “Whisper of the Mind”. Also, I’d like to say that the story isn’t exactly what I’d want to happen in a marriage proposal. One thing that I’d do differently is I’d use the person’s name. “[namehere], will you marry me?” This didn’t happen in the dream (perhaps because her name was never mentioned in the dream?). Oh yeah, I’d also like to mention that, while it’s something I think about quite often, I do not currently have any special plan for what I’m going to do. I know I want it to be special. It’s perhaps one of the most awesome moments of a person’s life (matched in my mind only by a few others, such as seeing your child for the first time). I want it to be special, but not just to me, but for her. I’d have to get to know the person well and figure out what she would want, and see what I can do around those lines. So, for that reason alone, I’m a little hesitant to make any plans in my mind just yet. Anyhow, yeah, so that’s that.

Among some of the other peculiar dreams I’ve had in the last few days, last night I dreamed that I went outside after it rained to collect mushrooms for a school project. Yes, Scott’s even dreaming about doing homework. It’s official, Scott has no life. And, on a more disappointing note, I also had a dream that happened the day before that one I just told you about proposing to my fiancé. I dreamed that I was sitting at a table eating dinner with a woman [who I somehow knew from the dream was my wife] when I was older. I’m guessing somewhere around thirty, or thirty five? I don’t know. Anyway I pretty much just looked up and she blurted out “I’ve been seeing another man.” That was pretty much it. I just kind of looked at her for a few seconds and looked back at my food, obviously not knowing what to say, but not getting instantly hysterical either. So, yeah, I woke up and started my day with an attitude of “Man, that would really suck.” Okay, I shared.

Oh yes, this is the last one I promise. All the sudden as I start to write about this I can barely even remember what it was about. It was quick, I remember that. It was like a dream of a moment, where it’s not the real world; it’s just thoughts in your mind. I was floating (more like “standing on nothing”) and there was black all around me and a guy wearing a red shirt was about fifteen feet in front of me sitting down (but I couldn’t see what he was sitting on). It was blurry for some reason, and I could barely make out the outline of his clothes, much less the expression of his face. He essentially yelled at me for a minute, and then it was over. The things he said made me really think about them when I woke up, but now I’m having the hardest time remembering what they were. It was real time, like, today, right where I am now in my life. Perhaps even after I wrote this entry (I already knew I’d be writing about that story about “her” on my weblog). I can’t remember the details of what he said (he seemed to speak in a single long sentence) but every few words were grouped together and made me feel worse and worse as he said them. Perhaps the only phrase I remember was when he was talking about this “her” I keep talking about (the “her” (in quotes) which is my way of referring to the woman who may one day become wife). Building up to the phrase he said things along the lines of “Look at you, all you do is work, and prepare, and have all these stupid little ideas of how things are going to be, all for a girl that you’ve never met, but one you think about every day”. And then he said the line which I remember most clearly, “As if you honestly believe that she exists somewhere thinking about you.” Now that I wrote it I also remember that he continued talking about how she’s probably “[doing something with] another guy right now”. So, yeah, I guess there was another waking moment with a slight disappointment on my mind. However this one happened before that whole little fiancé story, so I guess the more positive thoughts overpowered those of discouragement. Take that discouragement! :X_x: :snipe:

Okay, let’s see what else has been going on here. I’ve been releasing some audioblogs lately, but they often seem more work than they’re worth. However, I thoroughly enjoy making them so from my standpoint; I’d do it no matter what anyway. I even have a fun new “thing” planned for the next audioblog, but I guess I won’t bore you all with the details of that just quite yet. I’ve been slacking off on my homework so far. I know what you’re thinking, “Scott, it’s spring break, and you’re thinking about homework?!” Yes, but I have to. I have a Calculus III exam the week I walk in after spring break. I also have a project due on Tuesday for my computer class and I cut class last week so I have to figure it out on my own (but I’m sure I’ll do fine, it’ll just take a few hours). I also need to try to finish working on this stupid little “Biology Field Notebook” for my Biology II class. I’m sorry, I thought I was in college; why am I being given kindergarten assignments? I’m supposed to go outside and photograph 40 different species of plants and fungi (and there are broken-down categories of what kinds of phyla of each I have to find) and then attach the photo to a page in a composition book and write a paragraph about the plant. Oh, joy, that’ll be so delightful. This is a fern, this is a flower, and this is a go-away-and-leave-me-alone bush. Oh wait, I’m sorry, I must have confused this project for a serious pain in the asochyta.

Dang, you know me too well. I was on a roll up above, and I cut into the obligated small-talk to peel myself away from the sappy and quite possibly humiliating stories I was telling. However, I might as well continue; at this point I have little to lose right? I also felt a little bad about how bluntly I left that last dream about the dork in the red shirt. Those words have made me think a lot more lately about “her” now_, instead of “her” in the future when we’re “us”. While I generally accept (and, at this point believe) that she’s a girl who I guess I’ll simply describe as “normal”, every once and a while I think “what if…” just to see what it’s like. I mean, once again, I don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea and I especially don’t want to let people think that I’m over-expecting by any means. I’m simply toying with the dangerous “if game” to my simple amusement, because I’m left with little other to think about. So, while “she” is probably sitting in a movie theatre watching a movie tonight on her spring break, wouldn’t it be strange if she really were somewhere, staying at home, and writing to herself? Writing about… me?! This is more than the “what if” game now, this is now “I wonder”. I wonder… I wonder if she ever thinks about me? I wonder if she ever thinks about me while I’m thinking about her. I wonder if we’re ever thinking about each other… I guess I’ll leave it at that.