buttercup

The reason the Warlock dream stuck in my head: I've been having dreams about people from my past lately. In most of these dreams, I'm resolving things that I've felt bad about for a few years due to my crappy bad-friendness. It's pretty weird. At least I'm actually taking action in one plane of consciousness, I guess.

I had a dream last night about a boy I used to know. I've called him "The Warlock" -- due to his love for pentagrams and candles and scaring Jehovah's Witnesses who knocked on his door -- ever since I stopped speaking to him in ninth grade. (I never was very creative with the nicknaming thing, huh?) Anyway, I had a lot of fun with him when we hung out. We lived near each other, so we'd play basketball or go hang out in the woods or take walks or just talk, and he was pretty cool and nice, and didn't make fun of me when I did goofy/annoying things like tearing up leaves and sprinkling the pieces over his head. It was kind of weird, because we walked together to the bus stop, but once we got on the bus, we separated and didn't talk again until we got off the bus that afternoon. I really liked him, though; I probably had a crush on him, but I was pretty clueless about those things back then. About halfway through ninth grade, I just stopped talking to him; I made sure I left for the bus stop after he did, and if he happened to wait for me, I just didn't say anything when we met up -- pretty mean, I know, but wait! It gets even lamer. The whole reason I stopped talking to him was this: one night we were taking our standard walk around the block, and my little sister, J, was with us. He went for a hug, J thought we were going to kiss, and she started laughing; when we went inside, she told my parents. It was pretty embarrassing, I thought. So OBVIOUSLY I had to cut off all contact with him. God.

That was the first in a string of decisions I made concerning high school friends that I cannot understand, for the life of me, these days. I actually tried to find him to apologize for being an asshole a few years ago, but had no luck; I think he went to live with his dad in Ohio or something. I saw him a few years back in our local mall, but he looked kind of forbidding in a giant hat and he probably wouldn't know who I am if I walked up to him, anyway.

But last night, I dreamed I found him and apologized. Today I looked up my high school's listing on Classmates, and he's on there now, and one day I may get drunk and e-mail him to apologize. I don't know, though; I think the whole thing is one of those things that matter a lot more to one person than another.

Before I forget (because I did yesterday): Genevieve Dionne has a website now! I love her style -- she makes what I would make if I had the patience, the creativity and the know-how.

It's a new post! Hell has frozen over, the earth has cracked in two, and somewhere out there, [insert this week's overexposed stupid celebrity's name here] is insightfully discussing politics and/or religion!

I've renamed the book log: good english. If you don't get it, I don't want to know you anymore. Especially if you read the post that explains it and still don't get it.

We survived vacation. Well, it wasn't really a vacation; it was more of an endurance challenge. We were in Gatlinburg for most of the trip; two kids under five in a tacky tourist town full of candy shops -- kids, don't do it. Holy hell. This week marked the first time I've ever returned from a week off more exhausted than I was when I left.

The Aquarium was still awesome, though. It's a major tourist draw, so it's packed full of overtired shorts-wearers, but it's still a good time, especially if you have kids who like that sort of thing. (Oh, and lady who bumped into me and proceeded to act like I nibbled upon you: kiss my ass.)

I'd post more links, but hey, it's Gatlinburg. Either you think it's a redneck honeymoon spot and won't even speak its name without crossing yourself, or you've been there and know the layout of the streets as if they were your own.