mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dreaming my dreams with you. Know what's worse than being a third wheel? Give up? Wuss. It's being a fifth wheel. Know what's worse than being a fifth wheel? Give up? Tough. I'm going to tell you anyway. It's feeling like the only reason you were invited to be a fifth wheel in the first place was because you are old enough to buy alcohol. But a few good things came out of the evening. First, I got to finally watch Monsters, Inc., and it was absolutely wonderful! The ending could have soooo easily been screwed up, and it totally wasn't. Very good ending. Go watch it for yourself, 'cause I'm not telling! Second, the cute check-out girl at Gerbes kept saying over and over, "Yeah... I gotta work tonight. I'm pretty free tomorrow. Sucks I have to work tonight. I'll probably be bored tomorrow." Heh. It takes a *long* while for it to happen, but the JP-ster can eventually take the hint. I got me a phone number! Which means no extra wheels for me tomorrow night, baby! So, I worked today from 5am until about 3:45pm. Television is starting to become a slow torture suitable only for higher members of the Taliban and the idiot who first decided to make one prong thicker on plugs. Because, man, that pisses me off. I swear... Sit your average high-ranked Taliban leader in front of television for fifty hours each week. Let him listen to two-minute commercials for children songs and a solid hour of The Ananda Lewis Show every day. He'll be spouting off all kinds of intelligence and whereabouts of Sammy. There's only so much TV a person can take. And I've taken all of it. Here a scratch! There a scratch! Everywhere a scratch scratch!" How do I live through the day? I dream. Sometimes literally, yes, but I do my share of wishing I was in other places. Oz would be a fun place to visit, with all of the little people running around. I've always wanted to date a dwarf. Swimming in a naturally heated pool would totally rawk my socks. Skinny dipping would round out the experience. Sky diving. A minute of free-fall orgasm: because that's all skydiving is, really. Strapping on a bunch of airtanks, scuba diving off the coast of Bermuda, and taking a nap on the bottom of the ocean floor. Climbing a tree -- the only tree -- in South Dakota on a warm, summer day. I bet you can see for miles. I guarantee you can't tell if the earth is swallowing the sky or vice-versa. I dream of other jobs, too. Writing for a living would be my ultimate dream, followed closely by cooking for a small, rich family. Especially if their five year old daughter liked something besides rice and beans. Teaching would be fun, but only if I don't have to conform strictly to teacher rules. I want to be the Patch Adams of teachers. Yes, I am a dreamer. And I believe strongly in dreams. Sometimes I start dreaming, and it all of a sudden feels like I am flying. My stomache gets butterflies, and my heart starts racing. And I swear I am there. I am there. 2:06 a.m. - Saturday, Nov. 10, 2001 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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