Beetle and Bee

I rescued a Junebug from my pool today,
but I did not rescue the bee because I was afraid it might sting me.

I'm not sure just how guilty I feel about this.
Maybe I should feel a bit cowardly too.

Dream 6.30.07

I thought I could use this forum to write about my dreams, considering I rarely remember them beyond breakfast, but not today.

It's not that I don't remember last night's dream; I definitely do. In fact, it's one I think I will remember for a while. Because it was something I had been thinking abou-
See. There I go saying too much.

Our dreams are representative of what is going on in our minds. They are imaginative fictions of our desires, our fears, our struggles.

Dreams can be symbolic, like my last one.
I have no idea what a road trip, Gatorade, underwear, and Jim Cogswell have to do with anything right now. (And I would have easily forgotten that dream if I hadn't told you about it.)

Or dreams can be literal, like the dream I had last night.
I can tell you it involved going on a trip again. I have been looking for work and opportunities abroad lately.
But, for now, the rest of the dream I will hold on to for myself. Because sometimes these literal dreams can garner real life consequences. Ones that I am not prepared to face... at least not yet.

When Our Wings Are Cut, Can We Still Fly?

Gustavo Santaolalla

Enjoy the Weather. It doesn't last Forever.

This was the color of the sky last night...

Dream 6.29.07

I dreamt last night (or this morning) that I stopped at Ted&Paula's, a local liquor, store before a road trip. Some new management had turned it into a some kind of convenience store/flea market. All the stuff they were selling outside was just stacked in open cardboard boxes. Some of it was across the street.

I stopped to look for Gatorade and underwear, two essential road tripping items. First I checked "the clothing section" outside, but to my dismay, no underwear. They were sold out. Maybe there were a lot of road trippers today.

Annoyed I went inside to find a thirst quenching beverage. I remember I really wanted a blue one - specifically the baby blue one that says "Frost" on it. After what seemed like hours of searching in such a tiny store - it felt like dozens of people kept asking me questions like I worked there, and I was distracted by some imitation brand baseball caps - I finally located the Gatorade. Except the Gatorade was not in the freezer, but hanging on a rack in an aisle adjacent to the freezer. And not only was it out of place - at least in my opinion - but it was re-bottled... and all the bottles were filled to different levels... but they were genuine Gatorade bottles - with the labels torn off - priced at an expected Gatorade bottle price. Oh, and they didn't have baby blue.

Needless to say without finding new underwear or safe Gatorade, I spoke something smart-ass to the clerk/new management and swifted myself out of there.

As I made my way across the street to where I had parked near the underwear - or lack thereof - "display," I crossed a former art professor, Jim Gogswell. Coincidentally he was also there looking for underwear, and not having found it, he was on his inside to put up a fuss.

Then my cousin called and woke me up to ask me to make him an email address.

First.

I ate an entire jar of salsa with Hint of Lime Tostitos and a bowl of
root beer float ice cream for dinner tonight. It was unbelievably satisfying.

Then I watched '21 Grams.'