Sand Man

Dreams are funny things. I used to think that they didn't mean anything. I've heard about dream interpretation books--you know, if you have a dream about Mussolini, see page four and it means that you're worried about skin cancer or something. Okay, I don't really know, I've never looked at one of those books. But that's what I imagine them to be like.

When I was in middle school I dreamed about the same boy every night for a week. They were always very tender, sweet dreams. I thought it meant we would start dating or get married or something. Didn't happen. After that, I stop putting any stock in my dreams.

Lately, though, I've been thinking that maybe dreams mean something after all. Dreams are supposed be like your mind cutting loose, right? I've had a couple dreams recently that made me think that maybe my dreams are important to my sanity. I think everyone has problems and fears that they don't talk about to anybody, and sometimes won't even admit to themselves. But holding all that in has to find an outlet somewhere eventually, don't you think? I think that for me, that outlet has become my dreams. A couple months ago I had a dream where I confronted a couple of fears/painful things and I just ranted and screamed and made everyone understand. When I woke up the next morning, I felt relieved, like, "Whew! Got that off my chest!" And then last night I had a different experience. I dreamed about something that I used to worry about and be scared of and resent all the time. Lately, I've been trying to let it go. But in my dream, it all came out. I didn't solve anything in my dream, but it was a reminder that that fear-or-whatever is still there.

This is the first time in my life that this has happened--that I remember.

Then there are those dreams that you have repeatedly--or maybe its not the same dream, but you go to the same place. I kind of like those dreams, the familiarity.

I used to have this recurring dream when I was a kid about a huge pool full of really watery macaroni and dark blue octopuses swimming in it. That's GOT to mean something.

Your attention, please...

Dear Readers,

I have really come to despise this blog. It's been going downhill for months. My dislike for it has been sitting in the back of my mind, dark and heavy--kind of like an over-baked fruitcake. I've been trying to come up with a solution to this problem. My general approach to situations such as these is total obliteration. Just delete the whole thing and hope that no know remembers it ever existed. I think this is why I like getting my hair cut. When I feel like I absolutely can't stand my life anymore, I go and chop off six inches. Big change in just moments. How satisfying! BUT. The obliteration method a) is kind of wussy and b) doesn't always work. You can't, for example, delete embarrassing or otherwise unpleasant parts of your life. If that were possible, I'd probably have years of my life missing just on the embarrassing count (who wants to remember being 13 anyway?).

So, I apologize for all of my inanities.

I've decided against deletion. But I think if I tell you I hate this thing, then I'll feel better about it. And I can have a semi fresh start (even though, let's be honest, sometimes starting completely over feels just AMAZING).

In other news, I want to look just like Zooey Deschanel when I grow up. And no, I don't think she looks much like Katy Perry. Zooey's look is softer, classier and decidedly less trashy. No, I'm not going include pics of Katy.

That's all.

Sincerely,
Syl

Here I come a wassailing

The Christmas season is here.

Here are some of my favorite Christmas songs. I don't pay much attention to the videos, but I love to listen to them. They remind me of that child born so long ago and all that came after.

Merry Christmas!

What Shall We Give?

Wexford Carol

O Holy Night --I love this song. But I'm not a fan of the Celine Deon/ Mariah Carey/ Christina Aguilera versions. If you know of a good version, let me know.

Believe, from the movie version of "Polar Express"

He Is Born --I only know of Vocal Point singing this. To be honest, sometimes watching them is a little cheesy, but I do love this song. Sorry the quality is not so great.

Bring a Torch, Jeanette, Isabella -- This is a nice version, but I like it a bit slower. Once again, if you know of any great versions, let me know.

More to come.

Why Water Fountains Make Me Nervous

There has been a new addition to the candy drawer at work. "Fun size" packets of Tootsie Pop Drops. These are like mini Tootsie pops, minus the stick. I have long been a fan of all things Tootsie. Anyway--these packs o "fun" contain a mere three dime-sized drops. At first I thought this was pretty cheap of Tootsie. And then I realized why they do it. Chewing those things gives me a headache. If I ate, say, four, I'd probably get a migraine.

In other news: I have realized (again) that I have a natural aversion to waiting in line for the drinking fountain. There's a drinking fountain right outside of my office and when I approach it to get a drink, about 40% of the time, someone else is also walking up to it AT THE SAME TIME. I don't want to do the "no, you first!" dance and I don't want to just stand behind them when clearly it was a close finish that got them top seating. So... I usually continue straight on down the hall as though I wasn't intending to get a drink at all. The old fake out. Gets 'em every time. I guess I do it to save face... but I always feel kind of sheepish after anyway.