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Imaginationland April 29, 2008

Posted by wes285 in Uncategorized.
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I don’t dream very often when I sleep anymore.  Or, maybe I do, but don’t remember them when I wake up.  The past several nights have given me some odd dreams though.

First dream, I was dry humping one of my (female) roommates.  I’m not sure how to describe it.  Usually when you’re having a sex dream, you enjoy it.  The whole thing was just really awkward and I wasn’t completely enjoying myself.  When I woke up, I told my roommate about it.  Yeah, we have that sort of relationship.

Second dream, I was in the new Nationals stadium.  In between innings, I had to go to the bathroom.  Waiting in line, I saw a bunch of people I know including one of my bosses and some friends.  For some reason the bathroom was coed, so I was standing next to this gorgeous girl in line.  Out of nowhere she punches me in the balls and runs off laughing.  I’m left there to squat in pain.  Finally, I get to the bathroom and take one of the stalls.  A kid, probably 5 years old, jumps under the stall wall and pees all over my leg.  I think I smacked the 5 year old in the head.  Then I woke up.

Any dream interpreters out there?

Fiesta Rice Bomb April 17, 2008

Posted by wes285 in Appreciate the Prose.
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I had a great idea for a post ready to go. And then I watched the Caps lose. To the Flyers. In double overtime. If it was my TV I was watching on, I might have actually thrown something at it. Down 3-1, let’s hope for a repeat of the 1988 series, where the Caps found themselves in a similar situation against the Flyers. I might actually cry.

Tuesday is usually Mexican day at the dining center in my office. I decided to eschew the sandwich bar and went for the fajitas with a side of rice instead. For whatever reason, the lady decided to give me the rice in a separate plastic container. To get into the actual office area from the elevators, you have to swipe your ID card. Pretty standard for large office buildings. I had to balance the smaller container on top of the one with the fajitas in one hand in order to grab my ID and swipe. I almost dropped the rice, but caught myself at the last second. Crisis averted. For now. As I walked into my office, my co-worker said something to me and I turned suddenly. Next thing I knew, fiesta rice all over the floor. To make matters worse, the rice was right smack dab in the middle of my office. I couldn’t even get to my chair without tiptoeing around the rice. Absolute debacle.

I picked up the container, still half full of rice and walked around the corner to ask my secretary to call housekeeping. I went back to my office, sat in the other chair and started to eat my lunch at the other end of the office. Five minutes later, one of the housekeepers came by to clean up my mess. The size of my office didn’t allow me to continue eating while she cleaned up my mess. For whatever reason, I felt so uncomfortable standing there watching her clean up my mess. I tried walking into my co-worker’s office to make a little small talk. But, he was on his phone, which left me to fidget around awkwardly in my doorway for two minutes. I generally love awkward situations. I love making/watching people squirm a little. But those were easily the two most uncomfortable minutes of my life.

It isn’t that I dislike people waiting on me. In fact, I love it. Just ask my mom. It just feels a little bit wrong to watch someone on their hands and knees cleaning up after you. For some reason, walking 5 feet away into another office so that you don’t actually see the person on their hands and knees is okay. But standing over someone while they do it, just plain uncomfortable. I don’t think I could ever have a butler or a nanny for my kids.

Oh well. The rice was pretty bland. I didn’t even eat all of what was leftover.

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Appreciate the Prose:

Up and Then Down, New Yorker piece about the history of elevators and the complexity that goes into planning an elevator system. Also an anecdote about a man who got stuck in an elevator for almost 2 days. Yeah, I know, elevators don’t seem like the most interesting topic, but I thought this piece was great. There’s so much more that goes into elevators than you could ever imagine. It’s also a bit long, but read the whole thing.  There’s a strange, subtle beauty to elevators.

My Fickle Mistress April 8, 2008

Posted by wes285 in Uncategorized.
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I don’t talk about my dating life in this space. It is one of a few topics that I will almost never talk about. But, I have to break my rule this one time. I am so in love with this new girl. She is so incredibly beautiful and I am CRAZY about her. I feel the need to run around and scream it from the mountain tops (god, I disgust myself). I put a picture of her at the end of the post so you call can be jealous of me.

Writing is a fickle mistress, or so the cliche goes. In my case, the lack of an actual girlfriend would make writing my fickle girlfriend? I haven’t been able to write anything coherent for two weeks. I’ve started several pieces in that time. But I would get about halfway through, read what I had written and realize it was a complete mess. So, I’d just get into bed and go to sleep.

In school, when I got stuck on a paper with “writer’s block”, I’d get up and do something else. I’d end up not starting the paper in earnest until after midnight and stay up until 4 or 5 am to bang the paper out. That wasn’t writer’s block. That was just plain laziness and procrastination. I easily could have finished those papers a day in advance if I wanted to. I work the best under pressure, and there was no pressure to finish a paper that early. Why stay in and write a paper due in two days when I could go out and get drunk tonite?

This is different. I have no deadline here. No topic that I am forced to write about. There’s no pressure to write. So I end up with a group of babbling incoherent sentences about nothing.

When something gets difficult, you force it and keep going until you get back on track. Apparently that doesn’t work for writing. If you’re churning out shit and you try to force it out, you just force more shit out. Sunday night I decided to try to write through it. I posted something and it was a complete catastrophe. I ended up taking it down the next morning. Hopefully no one read it (well, I know at least two people did).

I guess this is what the beginning stages of writer’s block feels like.

So instead of embarrassing myself and subjecting you to dreadful writing, I will send you elsewhere.

The Wire, along with The West Wing, is my favorite TV show. Like most people who watch The Wire, I was a bit disappointed by certain parts of last season (although, the last few episodes made up for much of it). David Simon wrote a piece on the Huffington Post defending his work. David Simon is the most bitter man in the U.S. But, if you can get past his self-righteous disdain for the entire world, I think he actually makes good points. There are subtle, but important, points that a lot of people, including myself, missed. And he paints a depressing picture of the state of print media. Two of my friends that are just getting their start in journalism say it’s a pretty accurate picture. And that is downright depressing.

Her name is Rose. You can find her in the motion pictures Troy and Wicker Park. We are in love and we will be married and have kids one day. I hope that day comes very soon.