Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah

Buffy is not drama. I mean, it's drama, but not drama.

I grew up across the street from a rather large freeway. I'm sure that was the perfect cocktail with genetics and exhaust that caused me to develop a low stamina and my physically induced asthma. Yes, any extraneous physical activity gets me wheezing. And I hate it. Other than that, there are other things that I grew accustomed to while living across a very large artery of Los Angeles. Small rumbles don't phase me...having so many trucks and whatnot barreling by, even though the freeway was well above the street level, it would shake the ground. Oftentimes when there was an earthquake, I just thought it was a really big truck passing by, as usual, but when the rumblings continue, I know it's something more. I'm used to noise like no other...on the opposite side of town and space, my old best friend's house is just at the small hills at the foot of the San Gabriel mountains, and whenever I was there to take care of the kitties when the family was away, it was so quiet up there it hurt my ears. It was one of those piercing silences that penetrates your ears. Because of that, I guess I'm used to having noise about me, even how subtle or ambient. I don't mind the sound of the cuckoo clock ticking away, and I often like to listen to some steady beat to help lull me to sleep. I'm not sure if it's associated with our living across the street from the freeway, but my family also tends to like to have the TV on as ambient noise, regardless of wheather anyone is watching or not. It fills some kind of void, as if a place is being used, and lived in.

I guess that's why studying in the library wasn't always the most ideal place for me to study. That's not to say I never did that, and wasn't successful, but I would find myself more successful when I would find something to focus on as far as sound and then plug away at my work. Then again, I could have just found some earphones and listen to some music while working on things...and I guess I was pretty successful.

I know that everyone supposedly dreams several dreams every night, but that doesn't mean we necessarily remember them. I wonder if there are factors and the way we sleep that help facilitate whether we remember our dreams or not. Either way, I do remember my dreams at some capacity for the most part...and it seems that I don't remember the more banal dreams, but the ones that stick to me are the more interesting and out there dreams. I've been dreaming (or remembering them, at least) a lot more recently, more specifically, during the weekends. But last night, I had a very interesting dream or series of dreams that involved my family, something like a cruise, but not quite, or at least some kind of location where we were at some kind of beach and an area that had some kind of gift shop. Before that, I was dreaming I was sleeping, and when I got up for the day, my mom was mad at me, because she could hear me while I was sleeping. I was worried about what she meant about that, I don't know why, but she was saying that she could hear me tossing and turning throughout the night, thus causing me to have a poorer quality sleep for the night...as if I could have controlled that. I wonder if that translates to my waking life, but I haven't brushed my hair this morning yet, so I'll see if I actually was tossing a lot at night with some gnarly bed head. But there was this boat that had a lot of trinkets and pieces of art related to some sort of nautical theme, as well as a celestial them? I don't know. It all seemed to make sense to me, but maybe it was selling a certain type of aesthetic. It was a pretty vivid dream, and I last remembered getting interesting Tin Tin postcard prints that I was planning on framing in cute frames and hang on the wall somewhere in my house, but when I was standing there thinking about which little pieces I wanted, I was picturing hanging these things in the house of mine with which I wasn't familiar. It was in a space that I've never seen before...but at least from what I was picturing it while I was in my dream, I'm pretty sure that it was pretty nice. Maybe that's just a part of me that's thinking that I really do have to get out of this house and find myself a new place to live, a place that I would be invested in decorating, a place that I would be proud of living in, as place that I could call my own. I moved into this place knowing that I wasn't going to live here forever, that this place was just an exalted version of a college apartment where you only think of living for about nine months until it's time go to again. The funny thing about that is the fact that when I was going to school, I did make an effort to decorate my space, I suppose it was my way of defining my space. Perhaps It's a bit different since I now do have my own room, but even then, there are very few things adoring my walls here in my room, and there are very few things around the other parts of the house that are actually mine. I'm pretty sure that my roommate treats this place like her place (after all, she was living here for a few months before I even thought of moving in), with me just as someone who's living with her. I did come here with not many things, and I really don't possess the things that any humble home would need like a lot of dishes and utensils, furniture and the like. Oh well.

I think this is the first time that I tried writing my morning page while I had the radio blasting. I'm not sure if I've kept it on while writing or not, but I haven't lowered the volume of the radio since it went off about an hour ago. Either way, for some strange reason, I am more aware of the radio and it tends to tempt my attention away from my writing here and give my undivided attention to what it wants to tell me. There are moments where I almost want to transcribe what's being said, but I think I was pretty successful at not letting that happen.

I know that a big proponent to this exercise is to write stream of consciousness, and I guess since I've been doing this, I've been kind of writing to some kind of theme, but it's not like I actually premeditate what I want to write about when I go here. If I did, I'd be talking about the new camera I decided to buy and how I waver between elation and utter fear about doing so, or how it's still not comfortable for me to stay here completely alone, especially with my roommate gone (oh wait, I wrote about that yesterday). I guess I've been pretty good at keeping this exercise a free association exercise, but I still feel like I'm holding something back...maybe part of that is my awareness that others will be reading it...perhaps I'll experiment just writing in a notepad or Word document...perhaps that way, my flow would be better if I were to type something out on notepad, since there are no little wavy lines telling me that there are any typos, things that I have to obsessively look and see how I misspelled the word and correct it.

That totally runs my groove.