Dear Avid Readers (I know there are many of you out there),
I must admit something so tragically terrible to you that it may alter our relationship forever, but here goes nothing:
I am terrible at blogging.
There, I said it. Now, go ahead and judge me. It's fine.
I sometimes wish I was one of those super creative people that blog about anything and everything. Where their vocabulary is particularly select and the flow of the post is most excellently smooth.
I am going to make a goal for myself. For an entire year, yes, I did in fact just say year, will blog AT LEAST once a week. That is my goal. It has been stated and now set. Any of you can hold me to that, so, if I fail, you are allowed to come up with a punishment or something.
So, what shall I talk about now? There's the question of the century. How about I go on a terrific rant about the lack of sleep I have been getting? That sounds pleasant enough, right?
**If you would rather save ten minutes of your life, feel free to tune out now. Just press the little arrow on top of your screen that will take you back to whatever page was previously holding your attention. Or, entertain this little thought, press the little x that will completely close this and all other tabs and go spend some time outside with your family. It's just a suggestion.**
For those of you who have made the daring decision to stay tuned in - I congratulate you. Your mind is about to be blown Inception style.
As I stated above, I have been getting less then premium amounts of sleep these past few nights. I don't know if I can pin this on late night eating, lack of daily activity, my recent involvements with the world renowned William Goldman (he is a novelist - calm down), the unruly heat, or the fact that I am in a completely different bed than what I am used to. Whatever the reason, I am not sleeping.
The first few nights, I would just simply lay in bed, tossing and turning, and try to ignore the heat seeping in through my, more than open, window. These feeble attempts of ignoration (ignoration: The action of ignoring something, or the state of being ignored) remained unsuccessful - I stayed awake. So, logically, going to sleep last night, I expect the same type of non-sleep pattern to occur. Boy, was I in for a surprise.
Dreams are a weird thing to me. I'm not sure if I enjoy them or not. I guess it really all depends on what happens in the dream. If I have a nightmare, sure, I am terrified and want to get out, but there is great comfort in knowing that it was just a dream. If I have the most amazing experience of my entire life, yes, it is too wonderful for words, but upon waking up, I am filled with disappointment knowing that it was all fake. I managed to experience both of these feelings last night. Fancy that.
I guess I eventually fell asleep last night - that's pretty neat. I soon found myself on some random adventure doing something totally crazy. I don't remember details. Sooner or later I was awake again. Then back asleep. This time, as I entered the dream world, I remember what happened.
I was riding a scooter around what was either Disneyland, BYU campus, or downtown Provo. You, as the reader, can pick which setting most appeases you. So, here I am, riding this dinky scooter around. Yes, dinky. It was miniature size so I kind of had to squat to ride it. It was black and pink - if you know me at all, you know these would not be my colors of choice. Anyway, I am riding around. It's a nice day outside; there are people walking, running, bike riding, skipping, and frolicking all around me. Then I run into him.
I must now stop this story for a quick aside. You know how in dreams you sometimes never can figure out who exactly you are dealing with? You can only just remember the feelings you had in the dream. Well, that's what happened. There was a him - a he. Back to the story...
So, I see this guy and it was as though I had been wanting to find him, but also wanting to never see him at the same time. Weird. As I approach him, keep in mind I am still riding the dinky scooter, I say something to the effect of, "Well, well, well, look who it is." Intimidating, isn't it? We then converse with each other for some time. He states, quite boldly, "I like you." That was quite the shock. I, next, admitted that I shared similar feelings. We then decided to go out on a date. How tender. Then I pretty much woke up. Super.
Laying in my bed, I tried to figure out what the heck just happened. Then, before I could decipher anything, I was back asleep. This time I found myself in my dad's car, driving to a gas station because the car was running quite low. As I pulled up, I had an internal struggle about getting gas because I had just filled up and it didn't make sense that the car would need more gas. The format of the gas station was also very confusing to me. Then we, me and the people I was with, decided that it wasn't the car that needed more gas, but one of the people with us. Yet, before I was able to give the boy gasoline, he had to run around and burn his energy or something. Are you following?
After he was done running around we pumped gas all over him. As gas was pumped onto this boy, he managed to turn into a girl. Don't ask me how. The girl decided it would be a smart idea to smoke a cigarette...as she was standing there...covered in gasoline. Have we learned nothing from Zoolander? I kept yelling at these people to not light a match and I kept telling this girl not to get close to fire. I was deeply concerned for her safety. Anyhow, she lit up and the cigarette just kinda blew up in her mouth and she got a good laugh out of it. Me? How was I doing? I was frantic at this point. I had reach my boiling point with these people.
We ended up at a building where all the people were on a stage and I was on the ground looking at said stage. I kept telling them that everything was catching on fire - their hair, parts of the stage, clothes, everything in view. They would tell me to shut up and eventually I left them to burn. I slammed some random door that appeared out of nowhere and closed them out. Oh, I also chucked the Cafe Rio I was holding at them before I stormed out. I, with intense joy, woke up from this chaotic scene.
Now, if anyone can interpret these dreams, please do so. I would love to understand just what the heck was going on. If I have been incepted and I am now supposed to go eat some Cafe Rio and then watch some Hawaiian Fire Jugglers - that's fine with me.
The last dream is one where I am more than happy to wake up. I hated every second of that experience. The rest of my night was spent trying to figure out where I was, attempts to fall back asleep, and fiddling with my less-than-entertaining cell phone. I really hope that I can fall asleep with ease tonight, but I ain't counting on it.
I guess, in times of peril, there is really only one thing I can do: have someone pass me the Sudafed and Tylenol PM.
I'm not really sure there is a point to this blog, but, then again, isn't that what makes it a blog? I guess we can take some things away:
1. Goals are good
2. We have no control over our dreams
3. Don't light yourself on fire when covered in gasoline
4. Never throw away perfectly good Cafe Rio
I hope I have been able to entertain your mind for the past 10 minutes. Now get back to your life. Go do something productive. Have a conversation with an actual human being. And for goodness sakes, GET OFF FACEBOOK!
I must bid you all adieu. Farewell, my dear readers. Farewell.