Jet It

Every time I pack a bag, I wonder if I'll come back. Sometimes I really don't know. 

Last night I heard about something I have to do. I'm going to Thailand. Help the people. Help the elephants. Help myself. 

More to come on this, but I'm going. I have to get out of here. 

Goldfish

I just learned something. Goldfish are a symbol of fertility. This I did not know. I love fish, but I hate kids. Wait, I don't hate kids at all. I just hate the thought of having my own. Gross.

We all have a friend who we want to be more like. That friend for me is Alison. God, she is so cool. Not just cool, but like you-don't-understand-really-cool. She's my oldest friend (we date back to preschool). Alison and I have always been the best and worst match. When we come together, it's like a force to be reckoned with. Total trouble. 

Well, Alison came to Omaha for a weekend with her roommate Alli (who I absolutely adore) and it was epic. If you know me, you know the story. If not, sorry. 

Back to the point, Alison had a weird feeling for a while that she was pregnant. She told her boyfriend, felt a little better, but still completely uneasy. After all, college doesn't really agree with parenthood. During all of this, Alison was having dreams about goldfish. She's kind of like a dog because all her dreams are in black and white. This time, it was only the fish that were in color. Bright orange. As she was feeling beside herself, someone dropped by her house for a visit. It was her neighbor, younger than us, with problems of her own. She said something along the lines of goldfish and her sister being pregnant. It was enough to scare Alison. Right then, Alison was sure for the worse. 

The girl told her about the connection to goldfish and pregnancy and Alison went to the library to research both, and sure enough, it was true. In the end, Alison was not pregnant, but the dreams were too weird for her not to constantly think about. 

I think I'd rather have a dog than a fish.

Clean Lines

My dream from this weekend was short, but interesting. I can't quite remember all of it, but I can recover the important parts. 

I was at my house with my entire family home, only it wasn't the house that I call home. All I can remember is the simplicity behind everything. White walls, white floors, very clean. It was all very minimal and the decorations were either white, gold, or silver. 

There were tons of different light fixtures, again, all white and in every shape imaginable. They were all modern and made of that lightweight paper material that is so popular. There were tables, transparent and made of glass with lights under them. The weird thing about the tables was that they weren't level. Impossible for a table, right? I think so. On shelves lining the walls were various, useless decorative objects. There were huge jacks (just like the game) made of gold and several different empty looking vases and balls. 

As my family was inside with me, my best friend, Maddie, was packing her suitcase to leave. I guess she was visiting me (even though we grew up in the same city). Her suitcase was on my clean, white and perfectly made bed. As Maddie left to get in my dad's car, I told her I'd come out and say goodbye before they drove away. Right when she went outside to get in the car, my granddad appeared in the room. 

His presence surprised me. He's from New Mexico and a very healthy 93 year old. We began talking (I don't think about anything serious) and then he asked me to dance with him. There must have been slow-paced music playing in the background as we circled around the white floor. As my eyes peered over his shoulder, I looked out the window and could see the car my dad and Maddie were in, waiting for me. I couldn't leave, though. I couldn't stop dancing with my granddad. I couldn't let go. I saw the two drive away and just stayed with my arms wrapped around my granddad, and his around me.

I feel like this might say something about the strength of our friendship. Although it doesn't seem too positive, I do think it was good that I stayed where I was really needed. It was where I really wanted to be. 

I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning

I haven't blogged in a decent amount of time. I've felt like there's so much to say, but it's just too hard to explain. While I do have dreams to speak, the only thing I can think about is something I wish I wasn't. 

There was a time, quite recently, when I was in love. 

I might still be, but sometimes I don't know. Can distance carry a heart? Can time? I have sat here, in my room, so many nights trying to blink wide enough to escape the tears. I hate this. Cry

ing is not a part of who I am, but since I moved to Omaha four years ago, I've noticed more rain than sun. 

When I came here, I wasn't ready. I needed more time at home, with my family, with my friends, with the mountains. My heart rests 800 miles away, through a winding mountain pass. At least I think that's where it is. 

Love is a funny thing. Before this summer, I was a skeptic. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to believe, but never really had a reason to. My friend gave the term [love] a great definition while we were in high school. Love is habitual lust. Think about it. It hits the nail right on the head. 

Sure lust is a form of love, (eros) but can we find something that goes beyond that? I thought I did. I still think I do. Hindsight, though, is 20/20. I may have done too much. Loved a little too hard. I get mad when I think of how much I gave and even more so when I think about how much more I would have given and would still probably give. 

With such a great distance dividing two hearts, two souls, (and despite what my brother says) love cannot be defined and explained through phone calls and typed messages. Unfortunately, I'm always hoping for more of these, but know otherwise. I just hope that someday the 800 miles will shrink into eight inches. Eight inches that will separate our heads as they rest on a pillow. I may be wrong. I could meet someone here... yeah, right. This is not the place for that. Too bad. 

I overheard a conversation in class during the first week of school. A girl had just met someone over the summer (two years her junior, over 1,000 miles apart and now her boyfriend). Her friend sitting next to her reaffirmed that and asked if she was doing the long distance thing. Her reply was, "Yeah, we're going to try it. It's only been a few weeks, but so far so good. I just know I'm not going to meet anyone here." My only thought: fuck.

How can college be the loneliest time for me? It's easy to get lost in a sea of popped collars, conservative judgements and mommy and daddy lawyers and doctors. Now, don't judge me. This is my blog. 

I could say so much more, but I will spare you my petty problems. On another note, a more musical note, you should know that my thoughts tend to be like records. Broken and at times repeating. I go through songs constantly, looping them until I've found its replacement. Music has been a huge part of my life, like art. Not necessarily all the "hot up and coming" bullshit people get caught up in, but everything. I love and appreciate anything. I spent a significant amount of my childhood in a professional singing group and playing the cello. I toured Europe and all over the United States. Sometimes what is on my brain's repeat often surprises me. Right now, as I write, it is Sparks by Coldplay. I've honestly never really liked Coldplay or even listened to them, but right here as I am feeling all of this, it's perfect. 

Did I drive you away?

On the Ground

I knew this would happen. I finally had a dream last night, but it was weird. Story of my life. Some dreams I have are so weird that I don't even tell people. People shouldn't judge you by your dreams, but everyone judges everything. Whatever. This is my blog. I'll write what I want.

My alarm went off at 7 a.m. and I wasn't (as usual) ready to start my day. I fell asleep again, not making another move until 8:55. Good thing I rolled over a

nd ignored the clock because it was in this hour and 55 minutes that I got what I needed.

Like always, my memory is hazy. I was sitting outside with a friend where we found comfort from the side of a brick building where we le

aned against it for stability. We were at, what seemed like, a drive-in movie theatre. There weren't really any cars, though, but instead, people walking around in front of us. The constant, busy flow of destination-oriented people was almost overwhelming. With the amount of people, it's safe to say that it would have been impossible for them not to notice what was going on right next to me.

As my friend and I leaned against the coarse brick, I turned my head to the right and there was my cousin. She wasn't leaning against the same wall. She was lying on the concrete ground, in the most vulnerable state for a human. She was completely naked. No question about it. Most of the people walking past didn't e

ven notice this. What was going on?

As the reel of film continued to roll, my concentration was broken by every group of people buzzing past. For some reason, (although I knew what was happening) the state of my cousin didn't faze me. Sure I cared, but I wasn't embarrassed or surprised. More than anything, I felt a duty within myself that I needed to protect her. It was like I knew I couldn't control her lack of clothing, but I could control the people walking by who would take second glances.

My friend who sat next to me through all of this, is a story in itself. I can't name who that one friend was because every time I looked over, they were a new person. They changed from one face to another, but only the faces of a few people who I really care about and love. Perhaps they are the only ones who feel the same in return.

Most of you reading this may think I'm just weird for coming up with this. Really, though, I see a lot of meaning behind a dream most people would just shrug and turn away from. My cousin, who goes under the knife this week, was completely herself in my dream. It was like, as I see it, she has nothing to hide. We all know what's happening, this cancer is life-changing and she is back to where she started- with nothing. No clothing, no wall for support; just herself. No one, including my cousin, is in control of this. What happens, happens and we will take it from there.

High As A Wall

   

Since I have had the unfortunate side effect of not dreaming, I have been asking friends about their own dreamt up imaginations. 

My good friend (I'll call him HERB) has Aladdin-like renditions when he hits the hay. As we sat around his living room the other night exchanging stories, I brought up this blog. 

We got into talking about flying dreams. The last time I remember having one of these exhilarating dreams was when I was quite young. From the tiny bit of research I have done on dreams, flng dreams mean that you have accomplished something. Does that say a lot about where I am right now? Shit. 

                      

Anywho, HERB was telling me that he dreams about regular situations, like the one we were currently in at the moment. He will be standing around a group of people, talking, minding his own business, then he'll sit (or what seems) in Indian style, with his legs crossed, but the catch is that he is not actually sitting. Instead of his body lowering itself to his legs and resting on the ground, his legs will raise themselves to his chest. As he floats at the same height he was standing, he'll lean forward and carry himself in the direction he wants to move. 

Is this considered a flying dream? Definitely. HERB is floating, flying high. Apparently he has done something right. 

Over and Out

Love sucks. Love hurts. Love will tear us apart.