Had a "Twilight Zone" type dream last night, complete in Black and White and almost a half hour long. That was really weird. I was inside a military bunker of some sort, helping to preform tests on the human body (obviously, I am the finest of the species *cough*). There was the General who was over looking the whole operation, who had Kurt Russell type looks, cleft chin and all.
While showering one night, in the huge communal showers that we had in the secret underground military bunker, all 150 of us showered from the long day we had of supplying statistical data for the military. While scrubing some part of my little - but MANLY - body, all of a sudden *POW* there was a UFO flying inside the communal shower area!
Everyone scattered, one - because it was a UFO, and two - because it was a UFO in a secret underground military bunker, how does a UFO get underground! So for some reason, we all ran to the other room around the corner, and when everyone had left the shower room, the UFO was gone.
No one was allowed to leave, the General had strict orders that no one was going anywhere - who cared if you had family, there was a UFO flying around our secret military bunker!
We waited for days, and more tests were done, but nothing happened with the UFO. (Of course, in my dream, days passed liked seconds of mindless boring bantor between other test subjects, and rumors of what was happening as the General was hunting down the UFO. It was quite cinematic. Got to thank my brain for that little piece of masterpeice.)
And then, I had an epiphany! I grab the General and told him I had a plan (Scooby Do - esque, know what I mean) found a way that we could figure out what this UFO was and all of us could go home.
Everyone got back into the showers, and no more than a few scrubs of my rear end *ZAP!* the UFO was there! Everyone felt terrorised! Wouldn't you? And then it occured to me, this wasn't a UFO! It was just a reflection from a lamp the general was turning on so we could see when we needed to get our towls!
Yes, I know it's stupid - really anti-climatic, but that was my dream last night. I can't believe that was the answer to the mystery! How lame! I've got to do some mental exercise!
Have any idea what it all means!?
Rough one last night. Lots of Whiskey, lots of time spent pounding the floor in my apartment, howling. I think I resembled one of those middle east mothers that loses her child to Palestinian and Isreali struggles. My roommate Jon was really helpful and listened to me cry for hours. Thanks Jon.
Talked to my dad today and he seems to be holding together today. I let them know that I can't make it to the funeral this Friday. Think I'm just going to do homework, a lot of homework, and hang out with Irene all weekend. Should be nice. I already have 1 or 2 papers due next Monday and Tuesday - Incredible!
Doris Werner, loved aunt, school teacher, and incredible sister to my dad, died of complications resulting from cancer. She was 74 years old.
My Aunt Doris was one of those people in my life that was never critical of who I was, or what I was doing. Suportive, sincere, intelligent, and undeniably warm, my Aunt Doris was always understanding. We would talk about politics, share idea's about different issues, and she never was condisending to my views, always listening to me as if what I had to say really mattered to her.
She lived in Santa Monica, near the Getty, talking about how beautiful she thought the marble and granite architecture of the monolithic structure on the side of the hill is. Building's and the love of them seem to run in my family, and amazing structures never got overlooked. We spent many a talks in my teens discussing the facades of buildings, how boring the Bauhaus form and function style of the 20th century was and how it didn't seem to express the true extent that man's creativity could achieve. Doris loved Los Angeles, and the city doesn't have a clue as to how much it should really miss her.
About a decade ago, her husband, and my uncle, Richard passed on from complications brought on by stomach cancer. I remember my dad being worried about her, hoping that she would be able to cope with his passing. Now I hope my dad will be able to cope with her passing now. My dad loves his sister, thought the world of her, and always encouraged her to come over for family gatherings. This past holiday season, Doris spent a couple of weeks in our home, and I could see how glad my dad was to have her at the house. She was my dads favorite, he thinks the world of Doris.
As for me, I love my Aunt Doris. Seeing her over the winter break, I got to talk to her a few last times. I'm so glad I got to see her before she passed on. I don't know what to think when someone I love passes on, it never really hits me until after a while, when I don't see them at family gatherings, or get to talk to them over the phone. Doris sent me a birthday card for my 18th birthday some six years ago, and God, that seems like so long ago, and I was so excited that she had sent me a card. I love my Aunt Doris. I will miss my Aunt Doris. I'm going to miss all the talks we had together, and how she always had an amazingly learned grasp on the world around us.
I don't know where people go when they die. I really have no idea. There are still fleeting moments that I think there's a heaven somewhere, and on days like these, I'm that much closer to thinking there is a place where all the good souls go to. It's been a long time since her and Richard were together, and somewhere I think they are together, strolling along and sharing stories about this short time they'd spent apart.
The world lost someone special today. My Aunt Doris was that someone special.
Surprisingly, a lot happened these last couple of days, so I'll start from where my last post left off:
After cleaning myself up for the day (a daunting little task because some freckles look just like crusty dirt piles on my skin, but that's another little weird thing about me that maybe I shouldn't share), I made my way downstairs to pick up my news paper, and discovered it was missing. Someone stole my paper. Some people would be irrate, but I've stolen other peoples papers down there before when my paper has been stolen, so I brushed it aside. Instead of stealing someones paper this time though, I decided I'd just buy one at the student center.
Making my way down to the Starbucks in West Portal, I decided to put it off one more day and change my route to Muddy Waters at Church and Market. I hadn't been there in a while, so I thought it would be nice to read that paper more within the city. While sitting waiting for Irene to call me (we were going to run around the city), I pondered the days news: "Attack Iraq or not?" "Bush's approval rating falling" "Why Iraqi scientists will not interview with U.N. inspectors," and "Wow, my bladders about to explode! Oi!" I quickly ran to the bathroom, and when I returned, MY PAPER HAD BEEN STOLEN FROM THE TABLE! Damn! Two people that were sitting in the window table that was on the other side of the glass from where I was sitting outside casually told me they didn't think to stop the guy from stealing it because they thought I had left.
Oh well. From now on, if mines stolen don't consider yours safe. Hrmph!
When Irene eventually arrived, we decided to check out Mission Delores, the oldest building in San Francisco, and it just so happens to be a Catholic Church(Surprise Surprise!). It's full name is 'Mision San Francisco de Asis' but it's just easier to call it by the shorter name - we're all just really lazy people, aren't we?
Beautiful! An intensly profound building with incredible history - that history being the death of hundreds of Native Americans that worked really hard to get that place built, only never to be allowed to have a sanctified burial because they were savages... but I digress.
Anyway, I quite stupidly said 'God Damn it' in the church, and obviously, the 'almighty's' going to hear that one. Hey, slip of the tongue, I bet Jesus did it a couple of times before he realized its not a good idea to it. So anyway, on the sidewalk outside when Irene and I left, I just so happen to have stepped in a pile of dog poop. She thinks it was a curse from God and I'm starting to agree: God would be one of the few that would know how much I hate stepping in dog poop. Some people will remember how pissed I was when I stepped in human poop when my car broke down - I had to buy a new pair of shoes!
Later on that night, Irene and I had a dinner party at my place for some people that I know from the dorms. Surprisingly, mostly everyone showed up! It was great.
So to finish this really extra long post (God - I know it's long just keep going), today, I made my way to meet up with Dennis at the Golden Gate Fields for some horse racing! Whoo who. I only made it for two races, but Dennis was there for pretty much the whole day. I know nothing of horse racing, how to choose my horse to win, the odds or how to tabulate any of that. So my $2 bets pretty much went to the house except my last one. I bet the #3 horse to show, and Dennis picked the #6 and #3 to Quintel(?). Holy Crap that was a fricken race! I'm screaming like Keith just got another hernia, and then there's Dennis to my right, yelling as if his he was scoring with six playboy bunnies at the same time! "OOOOHHHH MMMMMMYYYYYYYYYY GOOOOOOODDDDDD!" #3 and #6 both were coming up on the outside, #7 was trailing right behind them, and #1 was making a break for it! "Come on three! Come on six!" "HOOLLLLLY CCCRAAAPPPPPP!"
Dennis pulled in $80. I pulled in, get this: $2.40. And yes, the decimal point is in the right place.
Being a poor college student sucks. Being a poor person sucks period. Combine that with a person who likes to go to concerts a lot and go see his girlfriend in the East Bay, and have an occasional drink, and smokes about a half pack of cigarettes a day, I need to get a job. Today, I've decided to parous a new idea for a job: Starbucks. I saw a sign in the West Portal Starbucks a couple of days ago, so I'm meandering down that way to apply for a job.
Should I tell them I laughed and cheered when the demonstrators last weekend destroyed a Starbucks downtown, shattering windows and writing slogans about anti-globalization on the walls outside? Probably not, but I heard that they pay better than most coffee shops, and I heard they give benefits too. Numerous people I know are employed by the giant coffee troll, so maybe it's my turn to join the "team."
Ugh. That just sounds gross.
In Berkeley this morning, Brooke and I went to a quick coffee shop before she went to work at Youth Radio and I saw something that really disturbed me. More than just disturbing me, it actually had me cursing aloud.
Everyone that knows me, knows that I smoke, and that I like to smoke. I've been smoking for mmm about 7 years now and it seems to be the only hobby that I do on a regular basis. In California, we have laws concerning smoking in restuarants, bars and other public places, and I understand why these laws are there, most people don't like to breathe in smoke like us rebelious types.
But Berkeley, you've got to be kidding me.
As we sat down to a table outside to enjoy the muffins and coffee's we purchased, I looked down at the center of the table, OUTSIDE might I remind you, and what did I see: NO SMOKING - Courtesy of Berkeley City Council.
This has gone far enough! This is a call to arms! You know, this would never happen in the Republican strong hold of the south! I'm a pretty liberal guy, I understand no smoking laws and why we should have them in public places, but this was on University St. in the center of town, OUTSIDE! Damn it people! I always thought that Berkeley was a haven of freedom, a bastion of benevelont individuality and free speech, a place where the disenfranchised and dasteredly had a place to feel themselves, and now... NO SMOKING OUTSIDE!
Screw you Berkeley. Screw you and your yuppie-limo-liberal types. Uhh!