6.20.02

Sorry this is being posted so late - had internet difficulties all day at work, so I couldn't get connected to the website.

Still no pics of the new place. Frankly, I forgot all about it until I just read my entry from last week. Besides, I'd rather have some decorations up and whatnot first, so soon, I tell ya, soon.

Can anyone explain to me why I've had a similar dream for the last two nights? Not exactly the same - the same environment, but the events that occur are different both times. What is that environment? I'm driving around in a car with Natalie Portman and we're talking about life, philosophy and movies. No, this isn't one of those sex dreams; we just drive around talking, but we talk about different subjects during each dream (or at least I can only remember there being different subjects). If you don't know who Natalie Portman is, she's an actress who got her start in one of my favorite films, The Professional, back when she was around nine years old. She's been in other little films that you've probably never seen, but recently she's been playing one of the characters from the Star Wars prequels. No, I'm not driving around with her Star Wars character, either; it's actually the actress herself. I dunno. It's been a weird set of dreams. Sadly, she hasn't helped me figure out the nature of existence or the origin of man, but, hey, given the opportunity in real life, I'd be happy to drive around with Natalie Portman and talk philosophy.

So I'm thinking about getting my haircut - like, really cut. Back in about 1996 I used to shave my head down to a #2 guard and lately I've been considering doing it again, just for the summer (or maybe just for a month if I don't like it). St. Louis summers are damn hot and humid, so as little hair on your head as possible is a good thing, but I'm also thinking it could make my workouts a tad bit easier on the body as well. I haven't decided yet, but I have to before the weekend because, damn am I looking shaggy.

Gotten back into writing once again after about a month's layoff because of the move to the house. I can really feel that fire building in me again as I sit there typing on my laptop. Last night I worked from about 9:15 until almost 1:00AM, just nonstop, kicking ass. Sadly, I was working on the revised outline for a story I've already written 59 single-spaced pages for, completely revamping the structure and adding/removing characters that I've decided not to deal with, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. It's been quite a pain in the ass, but I gotta tell ya the new and improved storyline works much better than the old, so in the long run it's a good move.

Read through some of my old posts yesterday and I gotta tell ya, I am so much happier than I was when I first started this site a little over a year ago. I was trying to figure out the world around me, venting my frustrations about consumerism, religion, and anything else that came to mind. Looking back I realize what I was really doing was venting my frustrations about myself. I was trying to figure out where I stood on things and trying to figure out what was important to me, which was really what SMX was all about to begin with. Then, something happened and I can't quite figure out what it was. What was that pivotal point? When did I decide to stop talking and start doing? I did notice that my posts after September 11 took on a different tone; however, I can't say that I've ever thought about how 9/11 affected me in the long run one way or the other. Was it the wakeup call I needed? Did it show me how fragile and fleeting life really is? That this can all be over in a heartbeat? I don't know. I do know that one of my first stories was written after 9/11, literally in the days following. I wrote a story called "80" that dealt with a young man whose life became interrupted by the events on that day.

The main character in "80" was a guy just like me - cynical, pissed off at the world, and just ready to throw in the towel on America - until he begins a road trip across the country on Route 80 from California all the way to New York City. He has to drive the trip because all the planes have been grounded, including his non-stop flight, after the World Trade Center was attacked. As he passes through towns large and small, through the heartland of America, and arrives in Chicago where he's hoping he can crash on the couch of one of his boyhood friends, he gets a glimpse of this nation that we live in. Through talking with people he meets and witnessing parts of the country he never knew existed, his tough shell of cynicism begins to melt away and he can see that the United States isn't as bad as he once thought it was.

I got this guy all the way to NYC, but I couldn't go any further. Not so much as I'd hit an emotional roadblock, but simply because I couldn't write anything about New York. Why? Because, I experienced it once when I was about 14, but I barely remember it and I didn't feel like I could do the city justice without a recent memory of what it's like. However, now that I think about it, I wonder if I could have even written it if I'd been there two years ago; I'm sure it's quite a different place now because of 9/11. Maybe someday I'll make it back to New York and then I can complete the journey, but until then, I think "80" will just have to remain as a memoir of how I dealt with the events that occurred.

And I think it was "80" that had a dual impact on me. It not only got me writing again, but it also helped me realize that, yeah, America has it's problems, but underneath that is a great country that is a far better place to live than most. Once I'd figured that out, I think things just sort of fell into place for me, and I realized that I could change, just like the character in "80" did. It was shortly after that that I began to hit the gym, bring my lunch to work, keep writing and writing, reading, and trying new things. So, I guess, in a way, 9/11 touched me without my even realizing it.

Ya know, I think I can complete "80" now. I'll post it on The Boundry sometime soon, so keep an eye open for it. And now that I think about it, maybe my driving around with Natalie Portman discussing life, philosophy and movies did have a reason after all.

In conclusion, Saturday is a sad day for me - it marks the sixth anniversary of my Mom's death. They say time heals all wounds. I would change that to "Time heals a lot of wounds". Being there, holding her hand when she dies is not something that you get over easily - probably ever. But, as the old saying goes, it gets easier every day that passes, but that doesn't mean she isn't missed.

Sorry to end on such a down note this week, but, well, what are you gonna do? Had some deep thoughts running through me as of late and the mind is not necessarily always a bright place to journey through. I hope you have a good weekend and I'll talk to you next week.

Space Monkey X