The spoken word.

I am not a phone kind of guy. My cellphone is so old I don't even know its model anymore. It is one of those first-generation colour screen and polyphonic ringtone Nokia types, no mp3 playback, no camera, nothing. It is at least 4 years old, ancient by today's standards, and about the only thing going for it now is that the battery runs out quickly if someone tries to hold an extended phone conversation with me.

Yes, I admit, I don't like phone conversations lasting more than 3 minutes. They try my patience, make my ears burn, and are either totally one-sided with me shutting up most of the time or filled with awkward pauses. If I want to talk to you for more than 3 minutes, there are better ways to do it. ONE: instant messengers. TWO: I fucking drive to your place or we meet up somewhere and talk face to face. Long phone conversations strike me as the lazy person's way of catching up with someone, or ambushing the callee (I may be making this word up but I don't care) to entertain you while you're stuck in traffic or doing something equally boring.

If you live reasonably nearby (within 40-50 kilometres) then I would rather meet up with you, drive if I have to. If you don't, there's the ubiquitous instant messenger software. The only time I would actually call you for a long phone conversation or entertain a long call is if I have not seen you in a while and genuinely miss your awesome company. Then, and only then, would hearing your digitally recompiled voice for more than 3 minutes be welcome, rather than resented.

Confession: I like chick flicks.

I go alone. I catch them in the cinema, so as to leave as little proof as possible. Another plus of watching these movies alone is that when I react emotionally, no one significant is around to see it. No witnesses.

So I'm a real sucker for chick flicks. They do the same thing for me as truly great romantic love songs do. For a moment, strings of empathy and emotion bind me to the characters, and I feel as they do.

It gives me hope. Hahaha.

Arrogance #1

The only difference between Mr. Random Famous Philosopher and I is that he is published and dead while I am not.

A dream is a wish your heart makes.

A sentence, a point, an idea that has existed since 1950, when it debuted as the title of a song in Cinderella. Being the poster boy of sloth, I am too lazy to troll the net looking for scientific theories on what dreams actually mean. I have a vague recollection of reading somewhere which theorised that dreams are simply a collection of thoughts and images that the subconscious strings together while the body rests. There is a rough storyline involved(usually) in a dream, but it is mostly just the subconscious playing in the dream sandbox to keep it from being bored to bits while you sleep.

But what kind of idea, concept or image actually makes it into a dream? A part of your brain is trying to stave off boredom, so it needs to come up with interesting situations and ideas with which to amuse itself. Depending on what it feels like experiencing, there's a quite a variety to choose from. You can have a dramatic, emotional dream filled with heartache and sorrow, or go for an action-packed dream filled with explosions and heroic achievements. Or maybe you're one of those who like to be scarred psychologically, so you dream of ghosts and zombies and other stuff that horror movies are made of, with a liberal helping of blood and gore. And then there's the standard romantic dreams, and dreams where you are the opposite of what you are in real life.

The topic that interests me here is the one where your dreams are based on possibilities, the different routes your life might have taken if certain circumstances had occurred. So the question is, when you get this sort of dream, is it simply a random production of your brain, or is it really a wish your heart makes?

I ask this question because I have been having dreams with a certain recurring theme, on and off for a while now. It pops in every once in a few weeks.It is a nice, fanciful dream, that COULD happen, but most likely will not. As in, I MAY be able to make it happen if I wanted it bad enough, but the possible repercussions involved as well as the initial effort expended to achieve it...I don't know. It's fantastic if it were to come true. But I know it won't happen. Yes, I'm being deliberately vague. Shut it.

What I'm wondering here is, in my heart of hearts, do I wish it would come true, or is just another patched-together play my gambolling subconscious puts on to entertain itself? Are such dreams really wishes of the sleeping heart?

The argument for pessimism. Or not.

Sometimes you wake up and all you want to do is grunt, roll over and go right back to sleep. Sometimes you're stuck in a jam, but don't take the right lane which seems clear at the moment because with your luck it will probably stop moving 5 seconds after you switch lanes. Sometimes you eschew a new way of working that is potentially better for the tried-but-not-so-true method since the new way will probably backfire anyway, with worse results. Sometimes you see an opening in a chess game that may give you a significant advantage if you take it, but refuse to do so in case the opponent knows something that you don't. And sometimes you don't make the effort to talk to that cute girl reading a book you've read before (and liked very much) in the cafe because she'll probably ignore you or think you're a loony for being so uncouth and brazen.

Being cautious, being negative, refusing to take chances....it keeps me safe from disappointment. It places me in familiar territory. It gives me confidence. It protects my pride. It shields me from potentially hazardous results. And it keeps me wondering, "What if I had just..."...

Despondency #1

My heart is a lump of coal. It is a cold, black thing; small, ugly and insignificant. At its best, it flares up brightly, vividly, but only once and never again. Only ash marks its passing.