why live life from dream to dream

Thanks to natureboy, I often have Nicole Kidman singing in my head.

Last night I had a fabulous time cooking dinner: a totally improvised meal using random ingredients in the fridge that needed to be cooked -- fresh pasta, a red pepper, and onion, some roma tomatoes. And of course other fun things like garlic. I made a faux roasted red pepper saucey. The secret is to sautee the pepper until they're brown in a pan that contains Liquid Smoke. Have I ever mentioned how much I adore Liquid Smoke? Sometimes I really am my father. It's frightening and comforting at the same time. I hate that. Speaking of I'm wearing the outfit my mom gave me for Christmas year before last. The sweater vest that my father apologized for crying on.

Moving on.....

Special thanks to fish for my FABULOUS package that I received yesterday. As MelRo said, and I agree, "The use of electrical tape is what makes it."

Last night's dreams involved people from my hometown and my past. Including my longtime crush, the woman who played all the leads in the church musicals. She was directing a "revival" of Fiddler on the Roof, since we did a production of it more than 10 years ago. I offered to help in the production. She said "I know it's unorthodox, but we're short one of the daughters, so.....could you step in?" I said yes immediately because I would say yes to anything she asked. But then later I realized it would be ridiculous and I didn't want to shave or wear the outift, so I was plotting to tell her I couldn't do it, even though we had just finished the last dress rehearsal before the first performance the next night. I also had a dream where I was visiting with Joanne, my mom's friend and an aerobics instructor, and I think I was staying with her because I couldn't stay at my parents' house. Then there was suddenly some sort of raid and the house got overrun by SWAT type people and we were hiding in the basement. Just when we were about to not-be-discovered, someone yelled "cut" and it turned out they were filming a scene for a movie, but no one told me. One of the other actresses in the movie was Mariah Carey. She was so trampy and trashy and bitchy, that I totally wanted to hang out with her because I knew it would be entertaining. But I ended up just leaving the house (which was actually the house of a woman I took piano lessons from), and walking home through my old neighborhood.

Dreams are so overly dramatic and epic, that when they get reduced to simple sentences, they seem surreal. However, if I actually took the time to write about them in a detailed narrative style, they would make for great fiction. Or a great screenplay. But when condensed, they don't make sense. Sort of like the description of a movie on the back of the video box. I'm really wanting for someone to invent a device which could read our dreams, such that they could be taped and replayed. Obviously this has some scary implications, since perhaps all of our thoughts could be read as well. I guess the more likely option is to keep studying about lucid dreaming and learning how to be in the moment in my dreams, which would probably help my memory. I could also exert control over the scary and disorienting dreams. And by control, I mean controlling my reaction, versus necessarily controlling the dream. If I know it's a dream, then I can stop myself from producing adrenaline and fear. I don't necessarily want to suppress the dream itself, since I'm probably trying to tell myself something.

In other news, and in the category of "Probably Shouldn't Be Talking About This", I've devised a system for reading the books I'm judging -- I"m basically reading them all at once. If I try to read them all back-to-back, I'll get tired and the last book will be at a disadvantage. But if I give each book the same amount of time per day, it will be more obvious to me which one I'm enjoying and remembering more. Also, I decided that I'm going to send one or two of the books to an old professor with a letter saying hello. I think she'd appreciate having the books in her library, and I keep thinking of her class and concepts learned. Even though that class kicked my ass, there aren't that many in my four-year career that I can honestly say I still remember the reading, let alone specific concepts and lectures. I have a lot of respect for her as a prof and researcher and person. I'm sure I had some sort of crush on her, but not necessarily in a sexual way. Besides, reconnecting with her might come in handy should I ever need some sort of letter of recommendation from someone in academia. Why would I? I don't know. But I like settting up opportunities for myself.

forget, never forgive. i think i meant that in reverse.

A good friend of mine from high school, Nawaz, used to always say "I forgive, but I never forget". He was truly quick to forgive people for wrongs against him. And he also supposedly never forgot. While I understood the basic principle behind the idea (once bitten, twice shy; once, shame on you, twice, shame on me; etc.), I would sometimes argue that he was in danger of never truly forgiving the person if he kept the memory too close to the front of his conscious.

I have a hard time doing either. Well, I have a hard time doing either consciously. Some wrongs against me get forgotten quickly and easily, and then even if I do happen to remember months or years later, I almost feel embarassed for the person and what they did against me, and I quickly try to forget the incident again. Some wrongs against me I forgive easily, without even trying. I don't necessarily realize something wrong was done against me, because I forgive them so effortlessly and automatically.

Then other times the task seems impossible. And I even recognize how outrageous my behavior has become regarding the matter. It's ridiculous that I still burn a torch of anger or misgivings or hurt that blazes at the same magnitude as when it was first lit. It's bizarre that I can still nearly have a panic attack when thinking about the injuring activity. And most importantly, it's fucking hypocritical. Because I have no understanding towards others if they haven't forgiven or forgotten something I've done. In reality, I'm probably just mad at them for not shutting up their feelings, since that's what I have the common courtesy to do. (Why can't you repress like I do??)

But there's a fine line between being open and honest about lingering ridiculous feelings for the sake of being truthful and hopefully feeling, and picking at a wound ridiculously until I nearly pass out from the pain. I fear crossing that line any time I open my mouth to confess feelings something I "shouldn't" (whatever should means when it comes to feelings).

I'm also hypocritical in my benevolence. I can sometimes be the first person to say to someone else: no feelings are wrong or unnatural or bad -- it's only how you act on them or deal with them. But then I deal with myself with a bizarre combination of self-righteousness and shame. I will be haughty and unapologetic with my rage, but unwilling to adequately deal with the feelings since I shouldn't have them in the first place.

Then I wonder if I'm too cavalier with others who struggle with complex feelings. Probably. Since I'm that way with myself.

I'm not sure how to consciously forgive someone. I know how I person acts who's forgiven someone, so I just tend to emulate that behavior. Sometimes it works. Sometime it doesn't. Forgetting works too. But I don't want to just sit around waiting for the alotted months or years to pass, so I can move forward. By that time it's too late -- things have moved forward without me.

I did a google search on Nawaz and found out he's in engineering grad school. I also finally tracked down Dave's contact info. I want to e-mail them both soon. With the former, I hope he hasn't forgotten me. With the latter, I hope he'll forgive me for all the tiny things. Maybe finding relief in older smaller forgotten memories will alleviate grief from more recent rage I'm housing towards people who've hurt me.