Proficient

Or at least competent enough in the lab. I finished six sessions yesterday and had no real problems. By the end my voice was somewhat hoarse but that was the only side effect. I enjoyed keeping everything filed and running the subjects. I ran a total of 17 people which was more than all the other research assistants for the week.

I have a feeling running the experiment week after week will get boring but at least it's a small change from the rest of my schedule. Next semester I might get more involved in preparing the second phase of this study, which would be cool to experience.

In other news I got my coat in the mail today. It's grey (I'm spelling it that way because it came from Britain), wool and clasped with toggle buttons. It is supposed to be vintage too, whatever that means. Often someone will label clothing vintage even though it was recently manufactured. This coat smelled old though, so I'm going to risk saying that it is actually old. I bought it for about $180. It would have been less had I gotten it in England but what can you do about the economy...I think it looks adequately like a coat Doctor Who might wear to satisfy me. I'm going to start putting random things in the pockets soon.

My dream last night was really awesome. It was long, so I'll summarize it: after abandoning a friend's car on the road because it wouldn't make it up a hill, we get stuck on a dead end road. Someone's bull-dozed the road, making a big pit! They've left a note stating that we can drive over the logs made into a road, but I don't see how. As we walk around the logs we notice plenty of farms with rolling hills, run-down barns and open fields. I comment that I would like to live here, especially since it is so close to the city. Later on in the dream I go to a bar set underneath a rooftop parking garage. It was really open and must have been from the 1960's. It was awesome. I decided to take a panorama of it so I started walking home to get my camera. On the way back I ran across some things someone had dropped. I found an old camera, pins from World War Two and a cool leather case. I carried it all home.

I'm sure that dream was really only fascinating to me. Sometimes I wish I had the memory to remember plenty of details from my dreams because then I could potentially make that awesome bar. It would help if I had a ton of money to make it too. What I like the most is when I have a dream and it is so vivid that I can still see it after I wake up. I had a dream about furniture that was clear enough that I could draw the furniture later on. I can definitely understand how people get inspired by their dreams to make great things.

Disappearing Cars

I was on my way to work this morning when I noticed a man walking along the side of the road. This being the freeway I was sort of confused. About 100 feet in front of this man a street-sweeper busily worked. I had no idea how he would get around that and dodge the stream of cars flying by him at the same time.

It did remind of several dreams I've had in the past. They begin with me driving in a normal fashion, but as time goes by more and more of the car disappears until there is nothing left. I'm running on the road, pretending to be a car. It's a strange feeling because it is something I've never experienced in real life. I have never walked down the freeway.

I have heard that being on a motorcycle gives you a much different perspective on the road because you are not encased in metal; you are free to look in many different directions. That freedom gives a more tangible and distinctive feel of the road and everything you pass by. I like that concept. I would like to be able to engage in mundane activities in new ways. Walk down a road instead of drive. Take all the furniture from the living room and set it up in a field. Blindfold myself for a day. I think the world is so complex that even the things we think we know all about have extra dimensions we haven't yet discovered. I noticed this the other day when I walked down the sidewalk on the opposite side of my apartment. Although I had seen the view dozens of times, the slight difference in being on the West side of the street instead of the East made everything look different.

I think that man walking along the freeway must have been experiencing a completely different scene than myself. He would have seen the heat wafting up from the asphalt, felt the swirl of air as cars went by and seen the patterns of cars as some would were allowed through the stoplight and others not.

I want to find something new like that in something old. I'm going to start looking soon.

Do I look like a homeless person?

I was helping my friend take down a sign for the governor when I noticed it was broken. The metal part holding the sign itself up was coming apart (it was hinged) so we decided to take it to get fixed. For some reason we decided to stretch it out as far as we could and then carry it through a neighborhood, confusing the people and kids playing. We walked into a lesbian bar (which was a total dive) and my friend got distracted by a girl whose left arm was much bigger than her right. He attempted to flirt with her, but I knew it was useless because she was a lesbian.

While I waited in the bar (which was very small and at the end of a long, narrow hallway) I tried not to make eye contact with anyone. Finally, a woman wearing a dumpy sun dress with a floral print walked up to me. She at first tried to give me money, but then looked confused and stopped. I thought she may have mistaken me for the bartender. Only a few seconds later did she hand money to me, eleven dollars. I refused several times, but she insisted that I "needed" it. She turned to someone and said to them how much I looked like a homeless person. I thought, "Do I?" and looked at my tattered clothes. I was embarrassed to realize that I did. I thought then that I should write a blog post about the whole thing.

And then I woke up. It was a strange and lucid dream. It merited a blog post, in my opinion, and it helped me to kick of my latest endeavor. In order to pump some life into my dying blog I have decided to write an entry every day. I know that doesn't sound like a major accomplishment, but I think it will force me to think of things to write about. Or, I'll keep having wacky dreams. Either way is good for me.

I may start looking indigent soon. I'm down to one good pair of jeans, which I wear entirely too often. My other pair began to get holes in unholy places and I retired them. I wouldn't wait so long to get new pants, but I don't really like shopping for clothes. I can handle shopping for shirts (extra small) but I appear to be the last guy with a size 28 waist. I can fit into 30's, but only when the waist size gods permit it. Those bastards have had it out for me ever since I crucified the man capri messiah they sent to Earth. Assholes.

I haven't had time to look either, what with looking for a new place to call home (or Daphne, whichever suits the space). What I really need to be able to do is be on speaking terms with someone who can do alterations, or grow my own pants. I have a garden...

Goodbye normal pants, though I never knew you at all...

Despite my exhaustive perusal of google, I could find nothing about growing pants. I did find a website about people who like girls who wet their pants (or I saw the link, I didn't click it) but that was the best I could do.