May 27th, 2009

Blow My Mind

Yep. Definitely prefer the sexy dreams.

Dream-Me last night was hanging out in some hotel conference room/large bar/buffett court or something, with lots of people commisserating over the death of, um, someone famous who's nearly died more than once in our reality. The death news was so specific that when I woke up, I turned on the radio almost immediately because this would be a big-news death in reality, and I wanted to be sure I'd just dreamed it. I had.

At least I remember what the dream was. I had one dream back in junior high or early high school, back before my older brother T.J. had gone to college so all four of us in my family were still living in the same house, that (whatever the dream was) made me wake up convinced that everyone else in the house had died. I got up and went to the door of Mom and Dad's room to hear their breathing and assure myself that I'd just dreamed that. This morning I needed something like that kind of reassurance.

I hope I'm dreaming sexy dreams tonight, instead.

I am lucky in one particular way: I almost never have nightmares. I usually accept the dream as a dream without getting disturbed by it. I usually see my dreaming as a gift. My dreams tend to be vivid and detailed, and sometimes they're actually funny. They're usually fun. Last night, not so much, but my subconscious's track record is still heavily good-dream-y.
Whale fluke

Something adoptees may wish to read, by Mike Russell

Mike Russell is a good guy (a smartass sweetheart, really) and a talented guy. He's posted a rare personal blog post, sharing his experience searching out and meeting his birth parents.

It's an essay Mike wrote back in 2000 for a presentation he and his birth mother put on, addressing ideas for how best to reestablish contact with birth parents. Here is some of Mike's early work to do so:
When I was 19, I took some bold first steps by (a) getting “non-identifying birth information” from my adoption agency, and (b) writing a 100-page paper on how to find your birthparents.

The non-identifying info was, of course, wildly unsatisfying and slightly maddening. That single-sheet, double-sided form with its sketchy, vague facts was the post-adoptee equivalent of being given a nibble of a chocolate bar and then told you can’t have any more — even as the remainder is dangled in front of you. Shelley was described in it as “a little girl with a bright pixie expression,” and that’s just about it. This half-assed “revelation” left me thinking of Audrey Hepburn with pointy ears cavorting about in a Peter Pan outfit.
Mike goes on to talk about how he prepared himself emotionally for the actual search, how his reconnecting with his bio-parents ultimately went well, the potential pitfalls of these searches, his thoughts on nature/nurture, and more. It's worth reading, so here is the link again.
Walking

Real Clever Vs. Fake Clever

There's clever. There's different levels of clever. There's Real Clever and Fake Clever.

I have examples of both from the collected songs of Weezer. Not really my thing, that band, but they're on at least three of the radio stations I listen to so I abide them.

Fake Clever is the opening couplet of Weezer's "Pork and Beans" (a title I've never liked, but I digress), and that couplet is
They say I need some Rogaine to put in my hair
Working out at the gym to fit my underwear
Sounds clever, doesn't it? I feel it's not. I think it's a reach, to find a rhyme for "hair," and not an organically written lyric. Also, I guess I've never worn a wide variety too many different kinds of underwear, but isn't most men's underwear fairly comfortable? Doesn't it usually fit? Boxers, they have lots of room. Even briefs can be roomy. (I hope someone's enjoying this imagery.) Anyway. It's another reason the song doesn't do much for me.

Real clever? I'd say it's the rhyme in "Troublemaker" -- a song that gets its humor from the rather non-demonstrative Rivers Cuomo going all "I am a Golden God of rock" but in a completely deadpan way -- that goes
Gonna be a star, and people will crane necks
To get a glimpse of me and see if I am having sex
I had NEVER thought to rhyme "necks" and "sex." And for them thinking of that, I salute them. That, I'd say, is clever. Well done.