Dream Psychology

I made a revelation last night.

When I'm faced with an unfamiliar situation, I get very anxious, particularly when I don't know what's expected of me - considering that I'm always too afraid to ask. So what happens is, I feel like no matter what I end up doing, it'll be wrong, and I'll either be scolded, or people will think badly of me, both of which are outcomes worse than death. So I freeze up, because every potential course of action is flawed, and I can't bring myself to commit to any of them, and whenever possible, I turn around and back away from the issue, and I hide from it, trying to delay the inevitable, but only inevitably prolonging the agony.

But then I realized, even if something bad were to happen, it's not the end of the world.

My words can't possibly convey the deep level of meaning behind all of this, which is part of the reason I gave up songwriting. I mean, it all makes sense from a logical standpoint, but getting yourself to actually /believe/ something is a feat that requires some kind of miracle.

Anyhow, it's not like I actually think the world is gonna end if I do something wrong or screw something up or disappoint someone - that would be ridiculous - but the amount of stress I experience /is/ proportional to such a catastrophic outcome, and not proportional to the actual situation. In fact, that's what the psychs call "catastrophizing".

It's one thing to talk about it and say, "that makes sense". But last night I was thinking about it, and I actually realized that the amount of stress I experience over something so small is ridiculous. So I told myself "it's not the end of the world", and it makes me feel a little better. So what? The world's not gonna come crashing down around me. Whatever happens, even the worst-case reasonable scenario can't be all that bad - certainly not as bad as I'm treating it.

So then I ended up having a very vivid dream about the same issue. I had been involved in something illegal with the mob - they forced me to do something that I didn't want to do, but I felt responsible for it, and furthermore, I was certain that if the authorities found out, regardless of my circumstances, I'd suffer a fate worse than death.

So I was convinced that the only option for me was to kill myself. And the mob helped me in giving me the freedom to kill myself before getting captured by the authorities. I flew around in a helicopter, planning to crash it, but then I decided I wanted to spend my last moments somewhere that meant something to me, so I flew to Deep Creek Lake.

Then, there were other people around, and I wanted so badly to kill myself and end it all, but I just couldn't do it. I bashed an acoustic guitar against a dresser, and said that I wanted to do the same thing to my head, to bash my skull to pieces, but that I couldn't bring myself to do it. It was very intense. A feeling I'm very familiar with, though not usually related to killing myself - the intense desire to do something or have something or be something, but not having the power to make it so.

Anyhow, a revelation came to me, and suddenly I realized that even if I was captured by the authorities, it wouldn't be so bad, it certainly wouldn't be as bad as ending my life. In fact, I discovered that the mob had tricked me, and that instead of helping me, they were using me, trying to get me to kill myself, most likely because I knew something that would compromise them, and they figured it'd be easier to let me kill myself than to murder me. And I felt so much better.

The force that I thought was protecting me, the source of my stress - that avoidance and catastrophizing - wasn't helping me, it was actually hurting me, and deceiving me. It's not my friend, but my enemy. It does not speak the truth, but lies. And I must not continue to listen to them.

Journal 017

Last night was kind of damp, and it was raining off and on towards the morning. I remember lying in bed, thinking to myself it'll snow again before it starts to really get warm - it always does. Well, I wasn't anticipating it so soon, but I woke up today to yet another fresh layer of snowfall. I'm sure this won't be the last snowfall of the season, though I am already anticipating the soothing showers of spring.

It's surprising that Easter is so early this year - right on the tail of the vernal equinox. But it's convenient that it would decide to ride on the heel of the pagan festival of Ostara (or Eostar) - the celebration of said equinox. Still, I'm used to it being sometime in April, so this is a little unusual. And then St. Patrick's Day is like a week before Easter, which is ridiculous. Can't these people spread their holidays out a bit better? In general pagan observance, there are 8 significant celebratory dates spread fairly evenly throughout the year. Well, the only reason I'm complaining is that I have ideas for my music log to honor the various holidays, and *way* too many holy-themed songs to play before Easter.

And March is also a busy month for birthdays in this immediate family, involving both of my brothers' birthdays as well as my mother's birthday. Second only to the late January, early February stretch which holds my birthday, my dad's birthday, and, I believe, also my grandmother and uncle's birthdays. Anyhow, I hate the whole thing about gift-giving. Doing something nice for a person you care about is one thing, but being obligated to purchase some commercial commodity for a specific day, or face the risk of being ridiculed or even victimized, is another thing entirely. I mean, going out and celebrating is nice - you spend time with the people you care about, and that's the most important gift, right? I don't believe in cards either, though. It just seems such a phony way of showing appreciation. Here's a cheap item you're just gonna throw away after looking at, with artwork I didn't draw, and some nice words I didn't write, but it's the thought that counts, right? At any rate, my one brother just spent $400 on CD's - and he's trying to pursue an ascetic lifestyle, and my other brother has enough money to buy anything he could want that I would ever think of buying him, and I don't even know him that well anymore, and the interests he does have I'm clueless about - sports, mainly. So to me, it just seems kind of pointless. And yet, the pressure to perform remains. They both got me something for my birthday, so it'd be tantamount to a slap in the face if I didn't reciprocate.

Today's episode of Millenium (for me, anyway) was good. I think I'm more than halfway through the second season now. I was lamenting the fact that Frank's wife Catherine isn't in it as much now that they've split up after the events of the first season cliffhanger. She really is a good character. Not as good as Frank Black, of course, but still good, just what you would expect from the woman that would marry Frank. Although, their relations have been pretty frustrating, since they seem to be drifting apart for the wrong reasons. The Millenium Group itself is proving to become more interesting as the series continues on. Still lots of mystery there. I was excited about this episode, because for once there was some real tension developing between Frank and the group, and at this point, although for the whole time the group has been portrayed as the good side, I'm wondering if there's maybe something more sinister going on underneath it all than what one might expect. The episode itself was a rather interesting "Into The Wild"-ish story, about a kid who, before entering college, entered instead into the Alaskan wilderness to find a much more fulfilling life. I'm really enjoying this series.

Keeping on that thread, a couple days back I saw the Jose Chung episode of Millenium. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, then you're out of luck. But just like the rather unique and entertaining episode of The X-Files which features Jose Chung, there's a similar episode in Millenium. I love how the titles of these two episodes so perfectly and succinctly describe the basic theme of their respective series. For The X-Files, the Chung episode is titled "From Outer Space", and for Millenium, the episode is titled "Doomsday Defense". And really, that's what those two shows are all about!

Apparently, my dad's nickname among his buddies is/was at one time "Too Much". This is clearly reflected in the license plate he chose for the family van. Now, I don't know what earned him that nickname - although I can get a pretty good idea, judging from what I know of his personality, always taking on challenges and whatnot, and from *pieces* of stories from his younger days that have slipped out here and there - but recently I discovered an entirely different behavior of his that resembles that moniker. And it involves his cooking. Particularly when making sandwiches. They're always so huge, stuffed to the brim with ingredients, on huge buns, covered in grease. Personally, I think they're too masculine; I'd prefer a more feminine sandwich (if that makes any sense). But it's a matter of style, and at least the sandwiches are still usually good. But it's not just sandwiches. I enjoy the quesadillas he makes, but by god, they're like freaking overstuffed oreos or something (I'm sorry, I had a really hard time thinking of a good comparison). It's just that, the quesadillas I'm used to are mostly tortilla, with a nice hint of other ingredients inside, mostly chicken and cheese. But these ones my dad makes are truly beasts of the wild. And there's often huge portions, regardless of what's on the menu. My older brother eats a lot, but I'm on the other end of the spectrum, and I always feel pushed to eat more than I'd prefer, because you know, semiconsciously, I fear that not eating very much would give off the impression that I don't like the food or something, and I instinctively feel like that would be a personal attack against his hospitality. I know it's not a very reasonable reaction, but I can't help fearing that sort of outcome.

I was pretty tired last night, and I've noticed I've been getting to bed kind of late lately, and getting up at the last minute. I'd love to get to bed earlier, and last night I tried to. But god, I was exhausted, lying in bed, and what I really wanted was to just fall asleep, but something kept me up. Some nagging, restless feeling. I guess there's not much to say about it, I just can't get past the fact that when I have to get up, I'm tired enough to sleep for hours, yet when I go to bed, it's often an effort to cross that line into sleep mode. Why do I have to be sleepy when I have to get up, and not when my body needs to rest, and I want to go to bed? If only I could harness that power and apply it at the appropriate times. It's not like I'm never tired, that that energy's not there - it is, it's just not in the right place...

I finally finished reading the Rurouni Kenshin manga over the past few days. I had stopped at the end of the Kyoto Arc, and now I've finally read the (final) Jinchuu Arc. Very good. So that's where the stuff about Kenshin's past comes from - which is easily the best part of the animated series. I liked it a lot. Why does the ending have to be so depressing though? I mean, it's not like it's a particularly depressing ending. Ironically, I'd probably feel better if everybody died at the end - maybe that's why I like those tragedy endings better, because it's easier to say goodbye to a character when they've died and the world is destroyed, than simply walking away, knowing that their lives will go on, but that I won't be there to continue experiencing their pleasures and joys. It makes me feel sad, saying goodbye to those characters and their stories, and it makes me sad in real life, and I re-realize how lonely I am. And I think about my life, and I want to go out and have adventures, and make reality as interesting as fiction is. But it's not that interesting. And it's never that perfect or happy either. Still, even that intense feeling of nostalgia - whether it's for experiences you've had or only imagined - and that bittersweet, painful feeling of longing... I wouldn't give that up for anything. That feeling of being alive, and that desire to strive for more, to make an effort to try and relocate happiness, however futile the search may be. I just can't understand how anyone could treat life so lightly. But we don't all have the same experience of it, I fear.

I myself have questioned the merit of eliminating distractions. As much as I enjoy losing myself in fantasy lives, it keeps me away from my own, real life. I wonder if, I had nothing to do, at all, except lie in bed or strum the guitar or write stories from my own head, then maybe I'd strum the guitar and write stories from my own head more often. As long as I have a choice between doing those things, and doing something easier, with a more direct reciprocation of pleasure and satisfaction, I will almost always choose the easier path. I have this long list of things to do - largely, fantasy worlds to experience, in various forms - and I feel like I won't get anything really important done as long as those things are on the list. So I think about closing the list to new submissions, and burning through each item till it's empty. Then I could focus on what's important. But there are always new things, interesting things. What if I hadn't opened myself up to watching Berserk? There are a lot of things I enjoy, but I question how much impact they really have in my life, but a series like Berserk, I wouldn't want to live a life without having the experience of that series, given the choice. So if I close myself, what could I end up missing? Yet if I leave myself open, what important tasks in my life will I neglect? I have a really hard time balancing between the two, as I've explained. So I'm not sure where to go from here. But in the meantime, I still have that list of things that I intend to burn through.

Journal 013

(This entry was originally written by hand last night, while lying in bed.)

Why is it that the more tired I am, the harder it is to get to sleep? What is up with that? My mind goes into overload and my body starts shutting down, but my mind refuses to relax. So I can't stay up, but I can't go to sleep either. Maybe it has to do with having an obsessive personality. I get caught up in something, and I can't focus on anything else. That's why it's hard for me to multitask. Like lately, I've been absorbed in flickr culture, and I have to struggle to force myself to do something else. Because I get in the zone and I wanna ride it out. If I split my concentration, my involvement and ability in any one task will be reduced in power.

I've kind of dropped my post average lately. Partly because I'm doing the same things. How many times should I come on here and say "I'm still looking at nude photos on flickr"? Still, moods change and thoughts come and go and it's good to keep up to base. Or something.

Well, for today (last night?)'s Daily Nude, I accomplished my snow challenge - diving into a snowdrift, completely naked. And, with photographic proof! Oh, it was quite exciting. I planned the shot meticulously before going out, because I knew the cold would not allow for any mistakes. I ended up setting up the camera on the back porch, on top of an old, sturdy clothes hamper for extra height, looking down at the backyard. Soon as the shot was set, I cued the camera, then rushed down the steps (nearly tripping), and laid back into the snow. I grabbed the camera as I rushed back inside to dry off, and discovered that I had positioned myself too far away, outside the range of the camera's flash! So much for not making any mistakes...

Well, I wasn't *too* chilled, and was instead quite thrilled by the experience, so I knew I had to give it one more shot - but just one. I reset everything, and did it again. When I got down in the snow, knowing this was the shot, I wanted to make the most of it, so I tossed some snow over my body just for the sake of going the extra distance. By the time the flash went off, I was anxious to get up. Again, I grabbed the camera on the way in, but this time, I was even more thoroughly wet and chilled.

Giving the camera some time to dry, I only half dried myself off before rushing upstairs into the shower to soak in a cascade of warm water for five minutes or so. Pleasantly refreshed, and warm, I went back down and checked the camera. The shot was a success! Admittedly, it's not exactly the most flattering angle, but considering the circumstances, I'm quite pleased.

Back online, I made the decision to upgrade to a pro account on flickr, after realizing it was a meager $25 for a full year, and mostly for the ability to better organize my photos. While re-organizing my webcam nudes from college, I yet again decided to throw a few more up on there that I had glossed over earlier. I'm gaining a little bit of confidence. Nude, and proud.

Oh, and I did in fact find a group for 365 nudes - two, actually. But here's the problem. One of them is a splinter group from the main 365 group, and despite being a haven for 365 rejects, I still think I'd be too radical to fit in - there seems to be a bias against genitals, for one thing. Now, I don't see much merit in any of those ridiculous cock shots - I understand the curiosity factor, and I've taken some of my own, but never have I considered them to be of any level of worth that I'd want to show them off (seriously, a guy is more than just a penis...) - but, there's a world of difference between a nude (artistic, erotic, or otherwise) showing the genitals (in context), and a shameless dick pic - and I'm against censorship.

Well, the other group I mentioned seems perfect, except for the fact that it's a ghost town, with few members, very few photos in the pool, and *no* activity. And I don't feel comfortable either sabotaging the group, or being the only contributor. I guess there just isn't that much interest in this aspect as I'd like. I like to sit right on the line between art and porn. Artists are afraid to get too close to pornography, and pornographers have agendas which have little or nothing to do with art. But the line can be a beautiful place - stimulating, yet meaningful. But so many people are afraid of getting shot if they get too close to the border. Either that, or they don't have the skill to walk the line. But now I'm just stroking my own ego...

Bedside Manners (or Raging River of Thought)

I don't know if it qualifies as insomnia, but I often have trouble getting to sleep. This is one of the main factors contributing to my desire to increase the length of a day by a few hours - believing that staying up longer will make it easier to finally fall asleep when the time comes, without sacrificing sleeping hours. (The other major factor is my hatred of being forced to wake up prematurely). Alternatively, I suspect that if I did more throughout the day - particularly more physical activities - I might be tired enough by the end of the day that I'd be able to fall asleep easier. Well, however it may by alleviated, the problem as I see it is related to the raging beast that is my mind. When I shut off the lights and climb into bed, the distractions of the physical world melt away, and my mind is free to explore. It runs off into patterns of thought that keep me awake, rather than allowing me to drift off to sleep. And the longer I lay in bed trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep, the more frustrating it gets. Usually, it eventually happens, but every once in awhile, my mind just refuses to shut off. And what's particularly annoying, is when I get that feeling that I need to document what I'm thinking about - like when I get a great idea about something, and I want to write it down before I forget it. It's annoying because on the one hand, I want to stay in bed and try to fall asleep, but on the other hand, I feel this urge to get up and stay up and pursue the idea.

On a related note, I also do a lot of thinking in the shower. In this case, I know that I'll be out and back in my room within the hour, so if I have any great ideas, I can just remember to write them down after I get out - unlike when I'm lying in bed, and I'm afraid I'll fall asleep and then I won't remember at all what I was thinking about before I drifted off. Still, for some things, I put a lot of importance on the exact wording of things, and oftentimes, if I don't capture that precise wording, the idea won't have nearly the impressive appeal to me as it originally had. This is a problem when I'm thinking about a topic of discussion, and I find a great way to articulate my stance. I want to preserve those words I used to frame it that way, but I can't very well write something down while I'm in the shower, and it just wouldn't be feasible to hop out of the shower everytime I think of something new. Sometimes I go to painstaking efforts to memorize exact phrasings of things while I'm in the shower, so that I can write them down after I get out. This is actually a great way to exercise my memory skills (something I've always prided myself on), but it is a lot of effort (usually more than I'm willing to expend on most issues), and one potential trouble is that if I take the time to memorize the first couple of sentences, it might actually stunt my thought process in terms of coming up with the next few sentences. So then I come up against a pretty interesting conundrum. Do I focus on memorizing what I have, making sure not to lose it, or do I let myself follow the thought through, knowing that I might very well engage myself in an enlightening inner monologue that I'll never be able to duplicate?

Well, if it hasn't sunk in yet, I was lying in bed trying to get to sleep, and I started thinking about these very issues, and I felt it would make a good entry for my blog. At first I juggled the value of getting up and going with it against that of staying in bed and hoping I could remember enough in the morning. Guess which side I ultimately allied with? I think those first two paragraphs were pretty good though, so right now I'm gonna say it was worth it. Although, in addition to talking about my sometimes frustrating thought patterns, I thought I'd also mention a few things about my bedside manners.

One thing that I think might be a question on certain people's minds (as it's been asked of me at least once), is what the hell do I do with my hair when I go to sleep? Because I've heard at least one tale of a person with long hair who woke up choking with it wrapped around the throat, and subsequently ran off and got the hair cut. Although that person must not have valued their long hair much to get it cut off so easily, it does bring up a concern. I've only had significantly long hair for a few years (let's say, long enough that it could choke me), but in college, I ended up getting into the habit of pulling my hair up to the top of my head, after laying down in bed, and tying it off with a hair tie thingy, then letting the hair hang over the top of the bed. That way, I can toss and turn back and forth with minimal tangling and whatnot, and I don't have to constantly be concerned about where my hair is, since it pretty much stays in one place. I don't know what other people do with their long hair, if they braid it or what, but this system has worked fine for me so far. I actually wish I knew more about hair stuff, because girls can do so many cool things that guys just never learn. It's like a secret art.

I like a soft, but pretty flat pillow. Those super-fluffy pillows can be really luxurious, and nice to lay on, but I have a hard time sleeping on one, because the pillow fluffs up all around your head, and that makes it hard to breathe clearly. Speaking of pillows, I happen to have a rather large mattress, and while I love to spread my body out, my pillow stays on one half (actually more like 3/4's), with the remaining quarter (the side of the bed away from the wall) hosting a stack of two really fluffy pillows, creating a kind of pillow wall that obstructs my immediate view of the area just beside the bed and the rest of the room, while I'm lying down in place. Why is this? One simple reason. After I had my sleep paralysis episode a year or so ago, I became very paranoid about an evil presence kneeling down beside my bed to watch me (which is exactly what happened during the episode), so just like you throw the covers over your head to protect yourself from the monsters in the dark of your room, I put those pillows there so I wouldn't have to be staring out into the darkness beside the bed, wondering if something might be there. Wow, that sounds so childish, but damn, if you've experienced what I've experienced, you'd understand.

As for covers, I have a nice stack of a bunch of comforters, and I use a varying percentage of that stack throughout the year. In the coldest winter months (like right now), I use most of them, to keep warm, which I guess is about 4-6 layers (I had to take off two of the layers to block off the window...). In the summer, I only use 1 layer, and it's always the same layer on bottom, which just happens to be particularly comfortable for me. Speaking of being comfortable, there's nothing more comfortable than sleeping nude, and the only time I don't is when I can't. But even now, in the cold winter, there's nothing a layer of clothing can do that an extra blanket can't do - and the blanket doesn't restrict you as much, or create as much static friction. Even in college, during the times when I shared a room, I devised a system where I'd use the basket, that I tied to my bedside to sit my alarm clock on, as a place to keep my shorts after taking them off under the cover of the blankets, so that I could slip them on again in the morning before climbing out of bed. I don't remember exactly when or exactly why I started sleeping nude, but I do remember a period of adjusting myself to it. I'm sure I didn't have any specific ideas about nudism back then, but I must have recognized the comfort and simple joy of it at the time. And that's something that I haven't forgotten.

Sometimes, during the summer, it's so hot that even using the one blanket is too much. But for the longest time I've had an inborn aversion to sleeping without any covers. Maybe it's a natural thing - defense mechanism or something - but I've always felt vulnerable without being covered - particularly the feet. Whether it's monsters or the cold or just the space, I feel uneasy climbing into bed without having anything to cover me. On the other hand, when it's just too hot to be covered, I've learned to make compromises - mostly by covering myself as little as possible, balancing the feeling of being exposed with the feeling of being overheated. I like the image that I get in a lot of anime/manga series of Japanese people sleeping with a wide but rather short (perhaps folded over) blanket covering only their midsection. I wonder what the story behind that is, if that's a Japanese custom, if there's some reasoning behind it or something. I've tried it, and it's fun just because of the association I make with characters from anime, but it only works when I'm really hot, and even then I have to gradually unfold the blanket to cover myself up more as I cool down.

Boy, isn't this interesting? I think that's all of what I thought I'd mention. I did promise something about bedside manners, didn't I? Luckily, I haven't really been forced to share a bed with anyone I didn't want to, as a result of crowding or whatever (there was that one time I opted to sleep on the floor rather than share a bed with another guy, if you remember). I have had a little experience sharing a bed with a girl, however. There are all kinds of emotional benefits, waking up next to a girl you love and all, and the physical closeness, which is all pretty obvious. There have been times when I've been pushed out of bed though - inadvertently, but no less frustrating. Ah, I just remembered something else - positions! No, not sexual positions! I mean sleeping positions.

I've always been a side sleeper. I lay on my back to relax, but never to fall asleep. I don't specifically have a favored side, as far as I know, except that lately I've been falling asleep on a particular side - but I suspect that has to do with facing away from the light leaking in through the window. As far as sleeping on my stomach, it's the oddest thing. I had a friend/roommate in college that always slept on his stomach. And it kind of scares me, because there are certain connections I do not want to have with this person - and anything related to sleeping is one of them - but I've never slept on my stomach before, yet, after having lived with him for awhile, I started doing it. I honestly can't explain it. And it's a habit that I still haven't been able to completely shake off. I also have this particular pattern I place my arms in that usually gets me the most comfortable, and it's something that I also happened upon during college. It's like a criss-cross, where I'll have one arm directed upward, over the head of the bed, and the other directed outward, away from my face - but with the arms crossed. I dunno, this is weird stuff, and I'm suddenly starting to wonder if it's even all that interesting, and most importantly, if it was really worth getting out of bed for. Maybe now I'll be tired enough to fall asleep. Still won't make me feel any better when it's time to get up though...

Journal 006

Stone Alone

After a long period of slow progress, I've finally got back up to speed and am nearing the end of the Rolling Stones auto-biography Stone Alone, by bassist Bill Wyman. I'm anxious to finish it mostly because it's not my book, and I've had it since probably around Thanksgiving. The content is unquestionably fascinating, but it's a very tough read. The chapters are really long, and being a history as opposed to a narrative, the flow at times can be challenging. But if you're up to the task, the book provides endless insight into the early era of the band, covering their rise to prominence in the sixties, and, judging from how much is left of the book, probably right up to the death of founding member Brian Jones. That's something that just struck me when I realized it - I had originally thought that the title 'Stone Alone' referred to Bill Wyman, since it was his book. But no, Brian Jones is the Stone Alone, and this book paints a fairly detailed picture of his journey from proud leader of the band to paranoid outcast - without ignoring any of the other important angles on the band. It still amazes me how many girls those Stones had access to...

Burning Man - Travel Plans

In other news, I spent a lot of time the other day mapping out the route to Burning Man on Google Maps. Playing around with maps like that really fascinates me, although it's frustrating when Google Maps starts slowing down and taking forever to respond. I'm not saying I have the route finalized or anything, but I've got a good idea of what the journey will include. Luckily, in this age of interstate highways, driving across the country doesn't have to be terribly complicated. Turns out, I-80, which is less than an hour north of Pittsburgh, runs straightway across the country, right through Reno, Nevada, the closest major city to the desert playa where Burning Man takes place. Here's what I've worked out so far:

Chicago appears to be about an eight hour drive from Pittsburgh. That seems like a good start to me for the first day of travel. I'm not entirely certain about the logistics of stopping over in a major city, but I have to admit I'm intrigued by the idea of maybe dining at the original location of Uno's, if that's a possibility. From there, it looks to be 27 hours of driving to Reno, through Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming (where I-80 reaches its highest elevation), Utah (straight through Salt Lake City, then across the Great Salt Lake Desert), then finally into barren Nevada. I don't know that there's anything along that path particularly worth taking note of, beside the scenery in general, so I figure we can take it from city to city, stopping at a few places along the way to sleep (not counting breaks). I'm thinking 27 hours is quite probably too much to do in two days, but three days should be doable. I will undoubtedly work out more specifics later.

As for the way back, I've already mentioned the Rachel, Nevada plan (visiting, and, ideally, staying at, the Little A'Le'Inn). To get there from Reno is a good 6 hour drive. From there, the best path seems to be an alternate route that cuts across the lower part of Utah, into Colorado and through Denver, before meeting back up with I-80 just across the Nebraska border. From Rachel to Denver is about 12 hours. Maybe doable, maybe a bit long, I'm not sure. I don't know of anything important in Denver, anyway. Other than that, it's about 14/15 hours back to Chicago, and about 8 more hours from there to home. Four days should be enough, although, if we pick a slower pace, I don't see that being a huge problem, since there should be no terrible rush to get home. (Basically I'm setting my comfortability limit here at 10 hours of driving a day - that's 10 hours worth of miles, not including breaks and maybe traffic and stuff. It's hard to say for sure, since this will be the first time I've taken on a driving challenge this extensive, but I've done 8 hours in a single day before, and I'm fairly comfortable with that. Of course, in this case, it'll be multiple days in a row of long hours on the road. But that's what it's all about, isn't it? I think I'm up to the challenge, provided the car does its part...). I considered picking a different route back home to expand the experience, but at that point, after the festival, I think getting home will be looking like a good plan. At any rate, it will definitely be a pilgrimage.

Sleep Patterns

My sleeping patterns have been a little irritating lately. Just a little bit back, I was tired enough that in the small hours of the morning, I could fall asleep quite easily (and quite comfortably) for something of a nap. But even now, when the morning comes on, I have a hard time falling asleep. My body gets exhausted, and I reach a point around 8am where I can't stand sitting at the computer anymore and I have to crawl into bed. But even when I do - and it feels great - my mind is still running wild, and I have a hard time shutting it off. It's like, I can easily get my mind to rest during the night, but while my body gets exhausted when the sun rises, my mind seems to be running at full power. It's troublesome. Do you know how much I wish sleeping was as easy as flipping a switch? Imagine how much easier it would be to get a good night's sleep!

I partly wondered if my trouble had something to do with the light leaking in through the blinds on the huge window in my room. I've mostly gotten used to it, but sometimes it still bugs me a little. I also happen to have gotten into the habit of only sleeping lying on one side - facing away from the window, which is unfortunately right next to my bed anyway. The worst part is the slit at the edge of the window, along the side - that's where the most light gets in. The blinds block the light coming straight in, but it's like a solar festival along the edges! Anyhow, last night (yesterday morning, to most people in this area) I put up some blankets across the whole face of the window, just to see if the darkness would help me sleep. There's still some light that seeps through the blankets, but the room's a lot darker now than it was, and I put up a blanket over that pesky edge, blocking out the most annoying area. We'll see if it makes a decided difference after a few days trying it out.

You might ask why I didn't have the blankets up in the first place - well, the main reason is that I love windows, and it really goes against my intuition to block a window up. Even though the blinds stay closed and most of my days are at night when there's nothing to see out the window anyway. And even though my window has a terrible view. Not only is it facing north, which means the least direct sunlight (I had a room in college that got some serious direct sunlight in the evenings - so I understand what a pain direct sunlight like that can be, but honestly, I liked that situation better than getting *no* direct sunlight - certainly, in the colder months, that sunlight could really help warm up my room, don't you think?), but there's also the matter of the neighbor's big ugly brick side of their house all up in my view. To see anything but brick and other people's windows, I have to lean in close and look out to either side. It really sucks. And it has a real impact on my psychology - being disconnected like that from the outside world. Since I spend so much of my time indoors, despite having a natural affinity for nature, I've come to respect windows quite a lot, since they're my everyday connection to the outer world. I also happen to enjoy sitting in, or even just standing at, windows, just looking out, watching the world, and the weather. So the window situation frequently depresses me, but, and I think I've said this before, there are other things about this room that make it nice, so it's a matter of compromise (not to mention a lack of options - considering my fear of going out into the world and being independent).

Aliens

Xenomorphs aside, little green (and often times grey) men have played a large role in my formative years. Although a skeptic at heart (though not in the philosophical sense), I am a very curious individual. The unsolved mysteries of life have always intrigued me, including aliens, ghosts, and all forms of cryptozoology. Despite Steven Spielberg's capitalization on the alien theme (with Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and E.T., both of which were a little before my time), it was the harsher characterization of aliens, like that in Fire In The Sky, and all the popular TV specials about UFO's and alien abduction stories, that formed my impression of intelligent extraterrestial life. To my young mind, these were very real possibilities, that both frightened and intrigued me.

It should be no surprise that The X-Files is one of my favorite TV series of all time, with its exploration of these themes, focusing on aliens and the government conspiracies that relate to them. I remember when The X-Files first started. I didn't watch it then, but I remember seeing commercials for it - specifically the episode where Mulder arranges a bunch of papers from a fax machine along the floor, then climbs a flight of stairs and looks down on the arrangement to notice that the random binary characters form the shape of a face. At first I thought The X-Files was a movie, but when the commercials persisted, I realized it was an ongoing series. I still didn't start watching it, but my older brother did. I remember him making comments over the phone to one of his friends, as they each watched it in their respective homes.

Like with most things, I was a late bloomer in my fandom for The X-Files. Between the fourth and fifth seasons, I learned that FX had arranged to air the first four seasons of the show nightly, in their original running order. The moment was ripe, and I realized this was my chance to finally jump into The X-Files. So I started watching it on FX, and when the fifth season started up, I taped the episodes to watch them after I had caught up, which I think occurred somewhere around the middle of that season. Turns out the first four seasons was the best of it, but it was nice to catch up and be right on the ball when the movie came out. That was an exciting moment for me. Then, the series continued to decline, and when Mulder dropped out, I lost interest. One day I'll make a point to watch those last couple seasons, but I'm in no particular hurry. I'm even more interested in going back and re-watching the first four seasons, since it's been a while now. I remember trying to collect the series on VHS. Luckily I didn't get very far, as DVD is totally the way to go, and worth waiting for. I saw the X-Files DVD Boxset at Best Buy recently. That's definitely the thing for me, but considering there's like, what, nine seasons? - it's rather expensive, and would represent quite a time commitment. So again, I'm not in a major hurry.

Getting back to aliens - like ghosts, my belief is that *something* is happening to give people these genuine experiences, but it's not necessarily what it appears to them to be. Just like Scully, I try to look for a rational and scientific explanation for these things. A great example is a flyer I got in my chemistry class in high school, debunking sightings of the Loch Ness Monster as nothing more than atmospheric conditions (it was a pretty convincing read). But I don't think every situation is that easy to explain.

One question that intrigues me endlessly is the notion of government conspiracy, like that in The X-Files. Area 51. The Roswell crash. Has the US government had contact with an extraterrestrial intelligence? Have they performed alien autopsies? Do they have remnants of alien spacecraft in some secret hangar somewhere? Were some of the inventions we use today inspired by extraterrestrial technology? Naturally, my skeptical mind finds all of this rather hard to believe. A very convincing argument is the realization that many important government "secrets" don't remain secret for very long - think of Watergate, and I'm sure you can come up with many more examples. Now, if the government did know something about aliens, do you think they could have actually kept it secret this well for at least half a century, if not longer? It's rather hard to believe.

And yet, the idea of it is fascinating, and you want to believe that if it was something this huge, they would go to extreme measures to keep it secret. Still, I tend to believe that it's more a dream than a reality. The fourth season cliffhanger to The X-Files - the Believe The Lie arc - fascinated me. And it was major - it even got Mulder to doubt his own faith in the existence of extraterrestrial aliens for a time. The idea is that the government indirectly fuels the alien conspiracy myth. They'd be fools to step right up and admit (falsely) that they have had contact with aliens (not to mention that they'd be lying outright). But instead, when their denials and cover-ups fuel rumours of these things, they like to encourage it in a roundabout, untraceable fashion. The reason is that, as long as people are postulating alien possibilities, the real truth of the government's top secret programs goes unnoticed.

That's why Mulder got as far as he did. If the government really had secrets to cover up, they would have eliminated Mulder had he ever got as close as he did all those times. But instead, Mulder was very important to the conspiracy. It's a two way street. If somebody claims to know of some connection between the government and aliens, they can easily be dismissed as a loony, their story discredited. But this doesn't convince the believers - in fact it only encourages them to believe that the government is trying to hide its dealings by appealing to people's sense of what is too bizarre to be true. So carefully orchestrating situations where a person like Mulder can witness something profound, while not realizing he's been set up, gives fuel to the believers. And that propagates the lie behind which the government hides the much more mundane, but still secret, truth.

But then you have to ask yourself how deep the government will go? Is the operative that revealed this scheme to Mulder just another one of their tricks, to get him to disbelieve because he got too close? It's a spiralling argument, and you soon find yourself in the midst of a game of wits against a Sicilian, with death on the line. And perhaps that confusion is another part of the strategy. Whatever happens, there's always some room for speculation. The truth is out there, somewhere.

And then there's the topic of alien abductions. How do you explain this phenomenon? I happen to be very skeptical of hypnosis. I don't really know all the details, but what separates a dream from a memory? Still, I believe there are people that have had experiences they can recall, to some extent, without hypnosis, so you have to believe that something is going on. I have heard citations of certain conditions created by some kind of magnetic, or perhaps electromagnetic, field disturbances - this sounds like something worth further research and experimentation. If we could reproduce an alien abduction experience in the safety of a medical lab, that would be a breakthrough.

Traumatizing as it is, I can believe something like an alien abduction experience can be entirely within the head, induced by any number of physical and psychological factors, but not involving any real aliens at all, or even necessarily the victim leaving the bed. There's a phenomenon called sleep paralysis, which I've actually experienced, that goes back a long way in history, where a person partially awakens while their body is still in a state of paralysis. This experience is accompanied by the feeling of a presence in the room, visual and auditory hallucinations, and extreme terror. During my experience, I actually questioned to myself if this was an alien abduction, which is something I feared the chance of experiencing all throughout my childhood. But no, I looked at the face of the figure kneeling beside my bed, and it looked more like the faceless assassin in The X-Files than your typical grey. And there was no medical experimentation.

Whether or not this phenomenon could have something to do with alien abduction experiences is worth looking into. I believe there are probably other factors, though. I love the idea of associating the alien abduction experience with the historical 'revelation', where a religious person might experience a visit by an angel, and maybe even be taken on a tour of heaven. Although one is decidedly divine, while the other rather terrifying, can there be some connection? Again, worth exploring. I've always been fascinated with psychology and brain states and the barriers between reality and illusion. Dreams most definitely included. Fascinating stuff. Learning how the mind works is a lot more insightful than learning the laws of nature, ultimately. I mean, if more is possible by imagination than by reality, then wouldn't it be more interesting to learn the laws of that world instead? I certainly think so.

I had a somewhat interesting experience last night. I got up from my chair, and I looked back at it, and I noticed it was turning ever so slowly. If I didn't know better, I might attribute the motion to some sort of poltergeist. I stared at it amusedly for a few moments, resisting the urge to push the chair and spoil the experience. Postulating the idea of the existence of a ghost in my room was somewhat frightening, and when I moved my arm toward the chair, wondering if I would feel a "cold spot", my arm got quite tingly. Of course, this was just a side-effect of allowing my mind to accept such an idea. Like the feeling you get when you're sitting in the dark and you start thinking about the things that could be hiding, and then your blood runs cold and your skin tingles. It's not evidence of anything more than your own thoughts. But it's interesting that you can think yourself into such a vulnerable position. Most times I walk through dark rooms, and even through the yard at night, without a second thought about those kinds of things. But the moment I take a minute to think about what ungodly things might be lurking in the shadows, the entire arena changes form, and suddenly I feel scared. Maybe a lot of this hokey pokey has to do with people projecting their emotions onto their environment. Some would argue that this very thing is a legitimate method of conjuring certain types of attention, by loosing one's aura and energy into the air. But that itself is questionable, I think.

In any case, the genesis of this strain of thought was the realization that Area 51 is in Nevada. Burning Man is also in Nevada. Obviously, Area 51 isn't quite a tourist destination that you can just take a tour of, but I *have* long been intrigued by the idea of driving down the Extraterrestrial Highway, and staying at (or at least visiting) the Little A'Le'Inn. And what better chance? Honestly, when's the next time I'm gonna be in Nevada? It would be a shame to pass up the opportunity. I'm thinking that on the way to the festival, we'll be anxious to get there on time, while on the way back, we can pretty much take our time getting home, as long as we have provisions (remembering that money *can* buy food and shelter outside of Burning Man).

Wow, one thing I'm noticing is that the western states are HUGE. It's almost like the surface of the Earth expands as you move westward across the country. And there's bound to be a lot less people, out in these desert-y and mountain-y parts, compared to the urban concentrations of the east coast. I wonder what the population density is like. Sure enough - http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/90/USA-2000-population-density.gif. You'd think a little trip from Reno to Rachel, from one side of Nevada to the other, would be like a few hours drive at most. But it's like 6 hours. Still, if it means an extra day of traveling, I think it would be worth it. And a 6 hour drive the day after the festival is probably better than going for like 10 hours or something.

A Deafening Silence

Last night I went to bed early, because I needed to make up some sleep. I was exhausted, and I was also getting a bit of a headache. I don't often get headaches, but it'll happen every once in awhile. This one was in the lower back of the head, to either side of the neckish area - not an unfamiliar location from my limited experiences. Anyhow, I'm not one to pop a pill, I just like to take it easy, and usually the best cure is sleep - although it's not always as easy as I'd like.

Well I managed to get to bed at a decent time, before 6 I think, but it wasn't one of those nice long sleeps I have where I fall asleep, and the next thing I know, I wake up 12 hours later feeling completely refreshed. I did manage to stay in bed for that whole time, though, instead of sleeping a bit then waking up completely without being able to fall asleep anymore, like I sometimes do when I go to sleep too early. So it wasn't ideal, but I think it mostly did its job. There was one annoying disturbance, though.

Sometime around 10:30 in the morning, an annoying repeating beep pattern started emitting from what I correctly guessed was my computer. I had no idea what it meant, as I don't think I've ever heard this computer do that before, but it sounded like some sort of alarm or warning. At first, I hoped it was just some virus warning or something from the daily scan - something that could be dealt with later - and that the beeping would just stop. Well, I couldn't take more than a minute of the beeping before I determined that letting it go on would be more detrimental to my perfect sleeping opportunity than getting up and stopping it.

So I walked over to my computer, and I first turned on the monitor. The test screen thingy popped up, like it does when the computer's off or when the monitor's not connected to the computer. Even so, the computer was still on - if the beeping wasn't enough of an indication. I tried hitting the power and reset buttons, but it didn't respond. So I held down the power button for a few seconds, and it shut down. The beeping stopped. I figured whatever had caused it to get wacky in the first place wasn't worth ruining my sleep over. So I went back to bed.

The first thing I noticed, climbing back into bed, was how incredibly quiet the room was. The loud hum of the computer (probably mostly from the built-in fan) had become such a piece of the background ambience of my room, that I had taken it for granted. Now, with it off, I was amazed by the sheer silence that filled the room. Laying in bed, with the door shut, I could actually hear things happening all throughout the house! It was amazing.

I got up later, at the regular time - still tired and wanting to sleep longer, despite getting a good rest - and the silence still amazed me. Particularly after leaving my room, then walking back in, where I would subconsciously expect to hear the sound of the computer, what greeted me instead was a deafening roar of silence. It was profound. It completely changed my whole sense of being. Everything seemed calmer and more basic. I was curious to find out what happened to the computer, but I wanted to extend this experience of silence as long as possible. I was also a little afraid that the computer had died, like my other one did just a couple weeks ago, and I was partly trying to postpone the verdict on that, because I wasn't ready to face that potentiality.

After dinner, the silence was still there. I felt so much more inclined to read books than I usually am. And I had a general sense of wanting to get things done - going through the stacks of, not just books, but DVD's and everything else that needed done. It was amazing, just the sense of not sitting at my computer, having hours of occupation at my very fingertips, keeping my finger on the pulse of the world - news updates, blog entries, media releases. It was like I was freed from this machine that fed off of the energy I plugged into it day after day. And I could just tend to myself and the things in my very own little corner of the world that needed taking care of.

Of course, the computer, and especially the internet, is such a huge part of my life, I couldn't go on for very long without it. I eventually switched my computer on, and it's working fine. I can't figure out what went wrong with it - I figure it just got tired and needed a break. But that experience of being disconnected from it really opened my eyes. It's something I'd like to make a point to experience every now and then. Maybe not every day, but as much as is convenient. It's an amazing, and therapeutic, experience.

Journal 003

I know I promised that hippie entry, but now that it's expected of me, I find myself avoiding the task. At any rate, you'll have it by the end of the week, I promise, or else it would have made no sense to do the hippie theme on my music log this week (which I certainly can't change now). In the meantime...

I actually forced myself to go to bed at a reasonable hour yesterday (meaning 7 in the morning instead of 10 in the morning), so I was pretty well-rested. I still got up out of bed at the last minute, though, to hop in the shower and dress for dinner. It was sloppy joe's, which I'm not so thrilled by, and Kraft macaroni n' cheese (the blue box kind), which I'm incredibly thrilled by. I heaped the mac onto my plate and ate a full helping before even considering the sloppies.

I was a little aimless after dinner, but I eventually got around to trying to hook up my guitar directly to my computer, in the hopes of recording some instructional audio tracks for my Quick Riffs web page. It was a failure. I tried plugging each of the holes, and I didn't get any response at all. So I'm not sure what to do now. But at the time, I ended up jamming out a bunch of the riffs with the distortion on my amp, just to convince myself I could still play them all (by the way, no sweat). I guess I kind of exhausted myself that way, and after the amp started getting squeaky for some reason, I shut it off and just lay there on the floor, with the guitar sitting on top of me, for a little while. Just relaxing.

Then, I spent some time reading. I read through the second of the two volumes of School Rumble I got for Christmas. Great series. I guess you know by now that I'm not much into comedies, but this is one of the exceptions. This series actually succeeds at making me laugh every now and then! Plus, this particular volume had one of my favorite scenes from the series - after the fireside dance where Eri dances with Harima, when she's sitting at home, refusing to go to school, partly because she's afraid to show her face after dancing with Harima, and partly because she's utterly confused about her feelings for Harima. The anime series describes the scene as "Eri feeling the blues". Now, considering that Eri is my favorite character in the series, you tell me that's not the perfect scene for me.

After that, I read through some of the books on nude photography I recently received, having ordered them partly as a birthday gift to myself and partly to encourage my interest in the field. There was a risque title on 'the art of rope' (if you know what I mean), which managed to be sexy without being too trashy. I also got a book of poses in the context of nude life drawing, which includes a CD that's supposed to be chock full of poses. I intend to practice some of those and see how well I can hold them for extended periods of time.

Additionally, there was a collection by Jock Sturges, a photographer I've come to admire for his portrayal of real people (as opposed to models) in a naturist context, regardless of age and gender. There seems to have been some controversy surrounding his work; I think the FBI actually charged him for involvement in child pornography, but it was clearly a defamation scheme. Although his photographs hide nothing, they are far from exploitative, and sexuality is never the primary theme, from what I've seen. There's a classic and very human soul in his images, and it seems his subjects have nothing but the greatest respect for him. All the more reason for me to support him.

Around 11 o'clock, after my dad went to bed, I got undressed. Nudity is hard to accommodate during the winter. Even with the heat on indoors, it still tends to be chilly. If it were up to me, I'd just crank up the thermostat until I'm comfortable, but I'm not the head of this household, and I'm not about to begin dictating the temperature of the house. Still, despite the weather being colder than it has been the past two days, it wasn't so bad in the house today. So I decided to go completely nude - no robe, no slippers, no nothing - and it felt great! It was a little chilly in the kitchen when I went to get some food around 1am, but I get the feeling that, unless I was bundled up, I would have actually *felt* colder had I been wearing clothes. It's a funny thing, but I've noticed that my body seems to be able to regulate heat more efficiently without clothing. Maybe I'm just trying to rationalize being nude as much as I can, but that's the feeling I've been getting so far.

My brother showed up in the kitchen, and we ended up having a surprisingly long (at least for me) discussion that was partly engaging, and deeply depressing. Basically, I kept trying to convince him that there were some good things in life worth living for, and at every turn, he shot them down with some counterpoint from his negative perspective. Seriously, I consider myself to be a pretty cynical person, but compared to him, I'm a life-affirming spiritualist or something. And it's really frustrating, too, because you realize that this is really what his life is like, and it honestly sounds like it sucks. You get the impression that, as he often confirms, death would actually be the only positive experience for him. And that really is depressing. I don't even know what to say to that, because it's really hard to embrace that sort of a perspective, and I think I've tried just about everything I can try to convince him otherwise.

The cat was generally being a nuisance during the conversation. Have I mentioned our cat yet in this blog? She's a Siamese. If that doesn't mean anything to you, then let me tell you this - Siamese cats are known for being loud, and being highly dependent upon human companions. In other words, they are ABOMINATIONS of the feline race! Anyhow, this cat in particular is named Sasha, and she's basically my mom's cat, except that my mom abandoned her when my parents divorced some 6 or 7 years ago (allegedly because the place my mom moved into didn't allow pets). And my dad's never been a cat person, so Sasha has really gotten the bad end of the bargain. And because of that, I want really bad to care for her, but there are two problems with that. Firstly, I am not an animal person. You'd think that a naturist, or even just a person who respects nature in general, would be an animal-lover. Well, allow me to be the counterexample that disproves that stereotype. I don't like animals. I think they're dirty, and it bugs me that I can't reason with them. If I don't like the way they're acting, there's very little I can do about it. Which brings me to the second reason I have such a hard time with Sasha. She makes so much freaking noise! She won't quit! Even in the middle of the night! When I'm slipping into the kitchen in the middle of the night, nude and naturally in ninja mode, trying not to attract extra attention, she comes out and starts screaming like a madwoman! I've tried many things to get her to shut up, but most of the time it just makes her more irritable - and louder! The best you can do is endure it, and wait for her to get tired. Which isn't a very good compromise, in my mind.

Anyhow, that's the situation. I have a hard time hating her (since I really am a kind person), but I have a hard time liking her, too. She ended up scratching me (inadvertently - she may be obnoxious, but she's not at all violent) quite significantly across the ribs. This is one of those situations where I would have benefited from having a little armor. Luckily, it didn't really hurt. I just hope it doesn't leave a mark. At any rate, the most it's gonna do is make me even more conscious of keeping that cat away from me. It certainly hasn't hurt my enthusiasm for being nude.

After the convo, a storm started kicking up outside. Not so much a winter storm, but more your typical wind and rain storm, with an emphasis on the wind. I still hear the wind howling out there now. When the wind gets in the back door, the space between the inner and outer doors creates a kind of wind tunnel, which makes some rather loud noises, that can be quite unsettling when you aren't expecting them. It's been howling quite a bit the last few hours. There was a very brief period when the storm went into overdrive. I went downstairs and peered through the blinds on the front door - the rain was falling so hard it was like a thick fog! Naturally, I opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. I absolutely love storms - I always have. Something about the energy of nature in those aggressive moments just ignites my excitement. The porch was wet under my feet, even standing just in front of the door, well under the overhang of the roof. I could feel the rain sprinkling against my skin, being sprayed almost horizontally by the heavy winds. It felt exhilarating, and I would have just loved to have gone out and danced through it, but it was much too cold - too cold even to stand there for more than about a minute. Still, that minute was totally worth it. Those kinds of moments are one of the things I live for. They're one of the things that makes life for me worth living.

Journal 002

I'm cookin' up what I hope will be an interesting entry on Hippie idealism and the counterculture of the swingin' sixties - and specifically how it relates to my own beliefs and ideas. But it won't be finished today, and I don't want this blog to fall into disrepair, so here's another journal-type entry.

I got up today like everyday, just before 5pm. I recall being extra tired, considering that I think I stayed up till at least 10 the morning before. Listen, I thought I fixed up my sleep schedule after Christmas, but it's still a bit out of whack. So I forced myself out of bed and went in to take a shower. I got dressed and had dinner. Considering that it's Sunday, and my dad usually eats in the living room in front of the big TV on the weekends, and both my brothers had finished eating by the time I got downstairs, I had the pleasure of eating alone. And I'm not being sarcastic. Although I would never force anybody out, I have no problem eating alone - I have no problem being alone in general - in fact I enjoy it, and I don't think that's a surprise.

I have a Pepsi with my dinner every single day. It's also usually the only Pepsi I have, except for special occasions. So I guess I'm on a Pepsi-a-day schedule. I don't really think I'm addicted, though I certainly enjoy having my Pepsi. Sunday is usually order-out pizza day, but occasionally we get subs (and rarely, calzones) instead. Today was a sub day. It was tasty, but one problem I have is that this particular place doesn't seem to take much care in making and/or wrapping their subs - I'm saying it's pretty messy. And I don't really like messy foods. Just too much effort. But getting past that, at least the sub was good.

After dinner, I was feeling pretty out of it. Moreso than usual. I didn't really feel like doing anything, and I was still tired, so I just said "fuck it" and went back to bed. I took my contacts out, got undressed, turned out the lights, crawled under those warm covers, and listened to my "Christmas Acquisitions" playlist playing over my radio while I drifted off to sleep. It felt great.

I got up a few hours later, probably around 9 or 10 pm. In these situations, where I end up taking a "nap" during the time I'd usually be awake, I can only sleep for a few hours before waking up fully. It feels good taking your time getting up, though, and not having to force yourself out of bed until you feel completely ready. God, I wish waking up was like that every day. More good news is that I ended up not getting dressed again for the rest of the day. I must have been formally dressed for less than an hour all day - that's pretty good, I'd say.

From there, I surfed the web a bit. I tried looking up details for loft apartments, to see what it might take to live in one. There appears to be a few in the area, but it's looking like they're in the price range of $1,000, and I assume that's a monthly rate. Not gonna be a possibility until I get some kind of serious job. Although that's not much of a surprise, it's still disappointing. I think about how awesome it would be to live in a loft apartment. I looked at some of them, and this one development seems like it was artificially built to be in the "loft" style, with high ceilings and brick walls and all of that, but it had a very fake feel to it, unlike an actual warehouse converted into an apartment. I'd like to have one that has an upper level.

Anyhow, around midnight-ish, after the house was mostly quiet, I had some more food (finished my sub). Then I watched a cool Rolling Stones feature that was sitting around that I had bought my dad for Christmas. It was pretty interesting, as it was half an in-the-studio documentary of The Rolling Stones developing and recording Sympathy For The Devil - fascinating getting to hear the song form gradually from bits and pieces. And the other half was this somewhat enigmatic social document concerning black power. I get the feeling it was very much a period piece.

That ended at about 3am - peak hour for prowling the streets. I figure 3am is late enough that most people staying up have gone to bed, and early enough that most early-risers have yet to get up - 2am is still a little early, and 4am is a bit late. I had noted earlier at how unseasonably warm the temperature was today - we're talking 45-50 degrees (Fahrenheit), at night. Furthermore, the birthday present I bought myself (a beautiful hooded ritual cloak) had just arrived, so this was the perfect opportunity to try it out. The ground was damp, but the skies were dry, so I put on sandals and didn't have to worry about being rained on. There was a little bit of wind, but it wasn't terribly cold - all in all it felt very rejuvenating - like the spring air. I put on the cloak (and only the cloak), and headed out for a walk.

The great thing about this cloak is that I can either let it flow behind me, or I can hold it tight around me to cover up. Plus, there's a hood, so I can go totally incognito if I want. Although, I'm a little concerned about looking *too* suspicious. A hooded figure in a dark cloak roaming the streets at night? I dunno, the point is I'm trying to avoid attention, not attract it. But I didn't use the hood at all tonight anyway.

I headed out, aimlessly wandering the neighborhood streets, trying to go for the darker stretches. I ended up reaching the main thoroughfare, and actually walked along it for a block. A couple cars passed me, from either direction, but I had myself wrapped up tight, so I didn't feel particularly concerned about attracting attention. Luckily, I didn't cross any cars on the smaller streets, 'cause that would have caused me a little more alarm. There was this one dark section on the way back, where the wind picked up, and I let the cloak flutter behind me, and it felt great. I considered taking one particular path that would have allowed me much longer stretches of darkness, and away from houses which always make me paranoid that maybe someone is up and sitting in the dark for some reason, but I decided against it for two reasons. First, it turned out to be a little longer than I felt like walking tonight (maybe if it was a little warmer), and second, I remember at the end of that stretch there's a spot where I've noticed driving past that a cop loves to sit there late at night and watch for anything out of the ordinary. So I decided to avoid that path.

I made it back home without event, feeling good from the exercise and the adventure, noticing that I had been walking for a good hour. But it was time to go in and get warmed up. I spent some time finishing up porting my Quick Riffs webpage from my old website to my current one. Then, I had another snack before it got too late (at which point people start waking up). I made some Van Houten cocoa to warm my insides. I have to say, with each try I'm getting better and better at choosing the right portions of cocoa and sugar to make a tasty drink. There also seems to be more cocoa in that little can than it looks like. Although, I did put in quite a bit this time, and it was pretty rich.

That about closes it up. I should be heading to bed soon, although looking at the time, it looks like I won't be back on schedule just yet. Aw well. I still gotta set up this week's theme on Zharth's Music Log. I think I'll relate it to the hippie entry I'm working on. Stay tuned for that.

Xmas

Despite my alternative beliefs, my family is still very much Christian, so I still celebrate Christmas. It's usually a pretty good time, since we have a decent sized family, and we're all very friendly to one another. I've known people who've had families that tend to have some animosity between certain members, sometimes with different camps and things. But my group is all decent people. Of course, my family is sort of split in half, ever since my parents divorced. The two sides, though harboring little specific anger for each other, generally stay separate. It's not like they'd actually fight or anything, but because of what's happened, it just sort of seems appropriate to mark your position and defend your territory. I dunno. They don't really ever mix, so it's not much of an issue.

For me, the worst part about the Christmas celebrations is having to get up in the morning, when I'm used to going to bed in the morning. And it's not like I can just stay up through the morning and then sleep the rest of the day. After presents, my immediate family has our traditional Christmas morning breakfeast, featuring a delicious egg casserole, with various sides like danish and cinnamon rolls. After that, we all head over to my gramma's house to get some more presents. Then, in recent years, my two brothers and I have made a habit of visiting my mom's side of the family (usually just a handful of people hanging out at my grandad's place - my aunts live out of state and my uncle often seems to have an excuse for not making it on time). We chill for awhile, then come home just before guests from my dad's side of the family start arriving at our house for the evening, for the traditional Christmas dinner - which consists of a homemade sandwich bar with freshly baked and sliced ham and turkey.

I knew that if I didn't do something about my sleep schedule, I'd end up staying awake over Christmas Eve night, being exhausted during Christmas morning, and just being completely miserable for the rest of the day. So the day before Christmas Eve, I tried only sleeping for a few hours. Getting home from the Christmas Eve party at my gramma's house shortly before midnight, I anticipated being tired enough to get some sleep before the big day. Well, I got to sleep, but I only slept a handful of hours before my body woke up completely. Sometimes this happens - when I'm really tired and end up falling asleep in the small hours of the morning, I'll sleep at most a couple hours, and then wake up fully, with no chance of sleeping any longer than that. Despite how tired I was, and how little sleep I got the day before, that thing happened and I only got a few hours of sleep before Christmas. So I was pretty tired during the day's celebrations, but I managed through it.

I was planning on seeing a movie that night after the big dinner, but by the time the guests left, I was so tired, I had trouble keeping myself awake. So I crawled into bed and just crashed. Of course, instead of sleeping a good long time to rest my body and mind, I ended up waking up sometime in the small hours of the morning. It was like my body was completely rejecting the idea of sleeping during the night or something. Anyhow, I got enough rest to stay up until almost noon that day, but before it got any later than that, I resolved to get a few hours of sleep before the time I'd usually wake up. Trying to force myself back into my old routine, I made a point of getting up at the usual time, around 5pm, after getting only a few more hours of sleep. This is still the day after Christmas. So now, being late into the night of the day after Christmas, I'm pretty tired, but I'm making an effort to stay up until the usual time I'd go to sleep, hoping that I can get a decent rest and push myself back into the usual schedule. Hopefully my wits will be about me better tomorrow.

So for Christmas, my spoils mainly include rock and blues CD's that I asked for, DVD's of various movies, some books (and manga), and a bunch of other medium and little things to make it interesting. I didn't ask for anything major this year, as I didn't have anything particularly in mind except stuff I'd rather take care of myself. For example, I'm planning on buying some kind of ritual cloak - officially, I'm considering it a birthday present to myself (my birthday's in January). I've been looking forward to it ever since I decided I'd get one, over a month ago.

It's exciting (even though it's not a whole lot different from what I do every day) to have stacks of new movies to watch and music to listen to. When I have these kinds of distractions though, it makes it a lot harder for me to make any kind of progress on my artistic endeavors - like writing my stories or recording my music. I have enough crap available to me to keep me busy until next Christmas, I'm sure. But that's not really the problem. I mean, on the one hand, it bugs me that there's always more stuff to do - more books to read, more series to watch, more games to play - but the important thing is that I need to take some time to do the things that are really important (e.g., the stories and music I mentioned).

But I have an avoidant reaction to things like that that need to be done. The more it needs to be done, the less I want to do it. And for something artistic like these things are, I just don't feel like it can work if I'm not in the right mood, if my creativity isn't being facilitated by the conditions in and around me, if it feels more like a burden than a gift. And that bugs me. I don't want it to feel like that, and I don't want to force myself to do something when it feels like that. But it needs to get done. So I'm kind of at a loss. Just thinking about it doesn't make me go "oh yeah, I can't wait to try this and that and get that finished." Instead, I think, "ugh, it's such an effort to go and set up all that equipment, and then make sure the levels are right, and then see how it records and how well I can play it, and blah, blah blah, blah blah." So I put in a DVD instead.

Something's gotta give.

Nocturnal Admissions

"Why do you keep this schedule anyway?"

"Mostly just to be alone."

On average, I go to bed each morning around 7-8am, local time. I get up around 5pm or so, usually after having the radio on for an hour to slowly transition into a state of awakening. That gives me an hour to shower and get dressed, although sometimes it takes closer to an hour and a half. Dinner is at 6pm sharp, every single day. Notice that I don't have "weekends" where I get to sleep in. Honestly, I think having a standard schedule is better overall, because you completely eliminate the whole morning-after-the-weekend where you didn't get any sleep the night before, and you're not constantly adjusting and re-adjusting your internal clock. As much as I'd love to be able to sleep in a couple days a week, I just don't think it's worth having to get up painfully early, even just once in the week.

The way sleep is for me, is that I tend to have a lot of sleep inertia. When I'm awake, I have a hard time falling asleep (usually because I can't shut my mind off), and when I'm asleep, I abhor having to wake up. Therefore, my ideal system would include long chunks of waking periods followed by long chunks of sleep, so that I'd only have to go to sleep when I'm way too exhausted to do anything else, and I'd only have to get up when my body is fully and completely rested. I've discovered that this system would require a cyclic period of longer than 24 hours. So to implement it, I would need a rolling schedule where I'd get up a little bit later each day. This is generally not easy to put into practice.

The only anchor in my life right now is that 6pm dinner. I figure that to stay in this house where I don't have to pay for utilities or food, it's only polite to at least join the table for dinner every day. It's a sacrifice that I'm willing to make. But because that is my only anchor, my schedule has come to revolve around it. Coming home after graduation, I was used to having to get up in the morning for classes. But without classes, it didn't take long for my schedule to shift later and later, until I was getting up just before dinner. And that's where I've kept it since. However, the fact that this results in a nocturnal schedule is extremely convenient for me.

What is the appeal of living nocturnally? I get the idea that the general feeling people have about a nocturnal schedule is that it is a dreadful way to live, where your days are consumed by darkness, and your interaction with people is minimized. Ha! To me, that sounds like a dream come true! Although it's different when my brother's around the house, since he's not a stranger to my kind of schedule himself, I typically have the house to myself between the hours of 11pm and 7am, approximately, when my dad and my other brother (the working man) are in bed. Even though I have my own room to myself, there's still a very different feeling in the house when I know my dad is downstairs watching TV or doing housework or something, or my brother is making a snack, or hanging out (awake) in his room in the basement, than there is when the house is quiet.

The idea of going downstairs, through the living room, and making myself some food in the kitchen, when my dad is sitting right there in the living room watching TV, makes me anxious. It's nothing personal at all - I honestly think my dad is one of the coolest guys I've ever known. Yet, there was a huge misunderstanding when I was younger, where my dad thought that I absolutely hated him. I didn't hate him, it's just that it bugged me to go about the house doing things when I knew there were other people about. It would have been the same with anyone else; he just happened to be the one around a lot during that period, and received the brunt of my frustration. The idea of somebody watching me or hearing me, even unintentionally, and the thought of them judging me and my actions, and the possibility that they might criticize me for something I am doing - like, 'you can't have a snack now, we'll be eating soon', or, 'that's not how you make a cup of tea, you have to put this in first'... it really is ridiculous, but those kind of thoughts tear away at me and make me want to crawl into a hole and hide - and I don't mean just when people actually say them, but simply imagining people saying them freaks me out. So I do tend to hole myself away and wait until the roost is empty before I make my move.

Every morning when I get up, around 5pm, there's a point at which I have to open my door and head to the bathroom to start my shower routine. Most of the time, at this part of the day, my dad is watching TV in the living room, which is just down the steps. Luckily it's not in view of my room, but the distance is not large, and it's hard to sneak by without making noise. Every faculty of reason in my body tells me that this is not a big deal, that I should have no problem with announcing to the house that I am up and awake and that I'm going to take a shower. And yet, every day, when I have to make that move to the bathroom, after having been officially out of people's consciousness during my sleeping period, I get anxious at the thought of making myself known in any way.

I like to listen through the crack of my door, and try to wait for a moment when he heads into the kitchen, so I can sneak past with a better chance of going unnoticed. But sometimes, that moment doesn't come, and it gets later and later, and I need to get started with my shower or I'll be uber-late for dinner. It's best when I just try not to think about it at all, and just force myself to open the door without thinking about it, before I give myself a chance to turn chicken. But I can't always do that. I have to know, I have to plan, I have to be in control of the situation, so that I don't run into an unfamiliar scenario where I'd have to improvise. That would be the worst thing. It's ridiculous.

So I like living in the night, where I can pretend I'm the last person left alive on the Earth (as long as I'm quiet), and I can just be me and do what I want without constantly dealing with issues of anxiety left and right, everytime I sense the presence of another person. This is not sane behaviour. But this is what's comfortable for me. It's also nice to be able to go to the couple 24 hour stores in the vicinity and not have to deal with crowds of people all sitting up in the aisles you want to shop in, and all that. Plus, even the streets are more empty, so you got less stress from aggressive drivers. In my mind, living nocturnally is a natural avoidant reaction to a fear of people. Of course, most people don't get that 'fear of people' part. I understand that. Now it's your turn to try and understand me.