I Was Thinking About Something Else

That pretty much sums up my life nowadays. I will be doing something, walking into a room or driving, and I will go askew. Someone will inevitably ask at that same moment, "What are you doing?". Which will confuse me and I can only respond, "Yeah, well...I was thinking about something else".

(formerly A Connecticut Yankee)

Name:
Location: Connecticut, United States

People you should read

Friday, November 04, 2005

Daydreams

day┬Ědream
n.
A dreamlike musing or fantasy while awake, especially of the fulfillment of wishes or hopes.

I was pathetically whining to [insert a generic female faux name here] that I needed to write something and that I didn't want it to be some cathartic crap, which is ultimately boring, and in my head I'm thinking I want to top the 'Believing in God is like being Drunk' entry which I take a lot of pride in, but blah, blah, blah, anyway...I need something amazing. She said, "write about your daydreams". Brilliant is what I say now (after a bottle of wine) when earlier I thought it was just intriguing.
Daydreams. What do I daydream about? Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Wine. The freeflow of ideas should be more insightful with you on board.
Simple things at first. DisneyWorld. Yes, I really do in fact daydream about Disney World. I have been approximately six times including my honeymoon, and I do find it to be the happiest place on Earth. Thinking about it is always relaxing because I dwell on how the entire facility, or complex if you will, is designed and devoted to entertaining me in minute detail. Everything is thought of to make me happy while I'm there and things I never would've thought of are taken care of too.
Quick sidenote: I have to thank my terribly hot cousin for the term flights of fancy that she uses in her writing because that is what I'm thinking this is. (Drunkblogging is such a medieval phrase, and yet, 'flights of fancy' is picturesque. However make no mistake, I am drunk) *hic*
So, on with my daydreams/flights of fancy:
A controversial matter. Can I think of one. Not yet. I daydream about why I have no ability to read people. Why can't people say what they mean. (Oh my, this is such new ground we're breaking!) I confess I'm tired. It's been twenty years since the Eighties, which I believe wholeheartedly was my best decade overall. Each of us has a best year, mine was when I was seventeen, and then logically we have a good or best on average decade. Again, mine was the Eighties.
Oh, shifting gears again, I was saddened the other day watching The Godfather and The Untouchables which are the best, top dogs, cream o'the crop, movies, and I was saddened because they are huge movies and even High Definition TV is never going to equal the magic, yes I used the word 'magic', of seeing a huge picture in a darkened movie theater. With the giant movie screen filling your peripheral vision. There just isn't anything like it, and I can't share that with my kids, which bums me out.
I daydream about how technology makes the past so present but really it's not. I'm over 45 (under 50), so the Fifties and earlier are like when dinosaurs roamed the Earth. It's all an abstract concept. And even in the early Sixties when I was a little kid any memories I have are like not world events like Viet Nam, or Civil Rights, just shit around my house that was happening to me, grade school and such. No world events. Nowadays I wonder with all the statistics on sexual abuse, who in my class in elementary school was being abused. Thinking back on the girls who were I thought aloof at the time, maybe at least a couple of them were being abused, and I didn't know. I was a geeky kid (then and now) and as much as I miss those grade school days, I'm glad they are gone. I think I missed a lot of what was going on and I protected myself with TV.
I was going to make a point earlier about how those of you in your twenties would view the Eities and before as when the very same dinosaurs roamed the Earth, but the analogy is lost now. The wine is good but not for writing. I don't know how Hemingway did it (although I'm quite aware he did it better than me. He wrote whereas I type.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home