Writer, Photographer,

Part 2 of dream analysis…nightmares. For someone who pretty much stays away from scary movies, I sure have a lot of nightmares. The most recent one involved me walking into a 7-story Starbucks with underground floors (the wave of the future, I’m sure) with Jeremy, only I wanted to be by myself, so I went into the elevator and rode it to the bottom floor. Instead of a coffee shop, it was the set-up for a haunted house. The place was completely deserted, but it made me really uncomfortable.

Instead of getting back on the elevator, I chose to try and find a way out of the haunted house. I ran and ran…past spooky dark places and over broken floors with nothing but gaping darkness underneath. The faster I ran the more frantic I felt, and the more I fell down. I started to feel like I wasn’t alone, but it wasn’t people I sensed. It was creatures. There was nowhere to hide and now I was lost and exposed. I remember wondering distantly in the dream if anyone would come look for me, and if they would even know where to find me in the first place. I guess that’s what I get for wanting to be alone! I found a small staircase in the middle of a wide expanse of darkness, and I curled up on it. There was a glowing Exit sign above me, but no door.

All I can make of this is that it’s maybe a reflection of feeling lost and scared in life, worrying that if I don’t run fast enough I’ll fall through the cracks and disappear. Maybe wondering if I’ve wandered so far from “me” that nobody even knows where to look anymore to find me. And the door-less exit? Could be false alarms at progress or things seeming like they’ll get better, only to end up the same.

That was fun–you guys miss childhood, too! Good to know I’m not the only one who grew up and became kinda disillusioned with fast food and candy and tv.

And now…people I see on a regular basis at the 24-Hour Fatness (fitness) by my house:

Smelly Dude: There’s a really large guy who always wears Hawaiian shirts, and all I ever see him do is walk around, and sometimes park himself at the machine which causes the least amount of working out in the entire place: you know the one…where you sit down and pedal your arms around. Also, this guy smells. He smells so bad that there is a 20-foot range of smell around him, like with Linus from Peanuts with the smell lines.

Barbie and Barbie Jr.: Some of the girls I see at the gym are normal and are there to actually exercise. Other girls I see are wearing heavy make-up and skimpy attire (even by gym standards). I don’t mind this, except when these girls congregate in groups on the machines I need to use, and just chat with each other. They kinda remind me of a large paperweight that somebody gives you and you put it on your desk, but everytime you reach for your stapler THERE’S THAT PAPERWEIGHT and it’s big and in your way, and you just end up shoving it into a desk drawer.

Muscle Man and Friends: I like to go to the gym in the daytime to avoid Muscle Man and Friends. I’m pretty sure these guys actually live at the gym full-time, like with a cot at night, even. They have many ridiculous tattoos, block walkways, talk loudly with other muscle men about their muscles, and every once in a while grunt loudly while picking up a barbell for show. Just so they don’t forget why they’re there.

You’re-Wasting-My-Time, Inc.
The kiddos who work at the gym are their own brand of crazy, as well. When we come in there are never less than 4 of them up front flirting with each other, and it usually takes awhile for them to notice that we’re there. If any of them are on the phone, it takes an additional 30 seconds at least. Then, if they need to hand you any paperwork, their mondo acrylics complicate matters and you’re on board for another minute and a half. I loooooove Victorville!

Now, I’m one of those people who thinks back fondly on childhood, but not because I lament having a mortgage and life is so much more difficult, bla bla bla. I like being a grown-up, but there are definitely some things I miss about being a kid.

I Miss Candy!
When I was younger (let’s be honest–all the way into and including all of my high school years), I really looked forward to celebrating Halloween by trick-or-treating. Being a huge fan of candy, I’d put on my cat costume year after year, grab a pillow case, and have at it. I mean–free candy for the asking?? I was all about that. But bless my soul if Halloween didn’t lose most of its luster when I was old enough to drive and stand in the candy aisle with my own money and get as much candy as I wanted. It was like a huge let-down and the mystery was all gone. I still stash random candy all over the house, but it’s just not the same. I guess Christmas and birthdays also were robbed of some of their magic once I was old enough to just buy things I wanted. Oh man, I’m getting depressed!

I Miss TGIF!
Some of my most-cherished memories from childhood involved sitting at home Friday nights anticipating TGIF. You know…the shows that would come on in a two-hour block..and I’d make cookies but eat most of the dough before it reached its actualization as a cookie…Anyway, I loved when Full House, Dinosaurs, Family Matters, Perfect Strangers, etc. were part of the block. Boy Meets World, even. But I don’t know…do they even have good shows like that on anymore?

I Miss Monsoon Season!
Ok so before you think I was always just the candy-lovin’ couch potato I am today, I did appreciate the finer things in life, like storms! I loved the times in late August/early September when the sky would turn purple, the dust would roll in, it would smell like rain, and the lightning would come. I remember sitting on the curb outside our house with my big sister, the two of us just watching the heat lightning as it lit up the purple sky and listening to the thunder. We don’t really have that kind of weather in California and I really miss it. Sidebar: my sister is rad and we used to stay up late and watch tv together. I really miss that, too.

I Miss Journalling on the Roof!
I’m not sure why my parents let my siblings and I scamper on up to the roof whenever we pleased, but I’m glad they didn’t mind it. I’ve always been a raging introvert who loves to steal away someplace quiet to just be alone and journal and decompress and deal. I mean, I even made a secret compartment in my closet–a cozy, hidden place–where I would just sit and read for hours. The roof was always quiet and I could spy on the comings and goings of the neighbors as an added bonus. Plus, you could watch fireworks from up there. But mostly I just liked being up there to journal. 

I Miss Marching Band!
Yes, I am one of those sick people who found great fulfillment and enjoyment in my high school experience. Sorry, you would’ve found out sooner or later. I had some really amazing teachers, some equally amazing friends, and I wouldn’t change a thing about those years. Some of my favorite memories that really stand out involve marching band. I actually got to be a part of a talented group who won all sorts of awards and had tons of fun besides. My best friends were there, I got some great leadership experience, and I doubt I’ll ever feel such a sense of camaraderie and achievement with such a large group of peers ever again. And band camp: SERIOUSLY fun. Even my first year when I thought I was going to get tied to a tree in the night, and stole knives from the cafeteria with which to saw myself free. Oh yes, they didn’t sing “Paranoia” at me for nothing.

So there you have it. Saturday Candy Day gets an honorable mention, family vacations to Clear Lake (with penny hunts, camping, swimming, family, and blue moon ice cream!) were transcendent and will most certainly end up in a book of mine someday soon, and I wouldn’t be me without my wake of ill-fated, church-related crushes. 

Anybody else miss being a kid? Let’s try something: leave me a comment about something you miss from your childhood. Then we’ll all sing Kumbaya. It’ll be fun, I promise!

–Jillangill

You know what’s a pretty worthless motivator? Guilt. I’ve read that when you try to motivate yourself from a deficit of what you feel you SHOULD be doing, it’s pretty much a wasted endeavor. Which I agree with. And yet….

Things I feel guilty about on a daily basis include but are not limited to the following:

1. Wow. Really? That pile of “transition” clothes is still chilling on the couch in my bedroom? And my laundry hamper is overflowing to the ground? Really?

2. Check me out, I’m a big, bad freelancer strolling out of my house at 1:30 in the afternoon, shamelessly sporting my jammies, to check the mail and see if my new Netflix movie has come. Oh yes, this is the big time, folks.

3. Ugh…go to the gym! But…I really don’t want to go to the gym tonight. I’m happy on the couch and it’s already past 8 and THAT is when all the predators come out to play…with their staring and their ridiculous bicep tattoos of the confederate flag…GO TO THE GYM!

4. Oh look, a computer! I should really sit down at this computer, open up some work, and work on it. Maybe right after I check my email for, umm, work-pertinent emails…oh NO I accidentally went to facebook! Well, as long as I’m here…

And there you have it. My guilt-triggers all come in the forms of pajama-related, housework-related, work-out-related, on-task-related laziness. Ugh. It’s a rare day when I go to bed and feel guilt-free because I have done enough work, tidied the house, worked out, etc., to feel worthwhile. Seems like there’s always something to feel guilty about. And when I really HAVE made the most of a day, in creeps the monster–that most hideous of all my triggers–the one that nudges me softly and says: “Hey. You. Remember your dreams and how you want to be a writer? Why don’t you write, then? What’s stopping you? Can’t you find the time, or do you just not love it, or aren’t you good enough?”

How about some book reviews? I’ve read a few good ones lately…and some that I just shake my head at. 

Eat, Pray, Love–Elizabeth Gilbert
This book has gotten a lot of hype and prominent bookstore placement…based not on good writing but likely a great publicist. It’s rare for anybody to be able to flit off around the world with a wad of money when they feel that life has become too difficult. No, most of us experience tragedy (tragedy we have not caused, unlike Gilbert), and we have to muddle through. She doesn’t acknowledge this or approach her writing with any recognition that yes, there are worse things in life than the problems she creates for herself. I couldn’t even finish this book. Awful, awful, awful, yet so popular. The impression I get of the author is that she is overwhelmingly, unshakably amused by herself. She’s like a spoiled child who has been doted on and therefore expects others to automatically love her and agree with her skewed self-pity. “Don’t you HATE that I had to give up my Manhattan apartment and my nice big house in the suburbs??”  Ugh–pass.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly–Jean-Dominique Bauby
I read The Diving Bell and The Butterfly while trying to read Eat Pray Love…the books are like night and day. Someone with no real problems going all to pieces, and someone who has lost everything and remains optimistic. Diving Bell/Butterfly is about the editor of French Elle magazine, who has a massive stroke at age 43 and winds up in almost complete paralysis and a diagnosis of locked-in syndrome. He communicated by blinking his one eye through the alphabet, and transcribed an entire book in this fashion. His words are hopeful, imaginative, and heartbreakingly beautiful. I highly recommend this one–they also made a movie of it, which was only “ok.”

We Thought You Would be Prettier–Laurie Notaro
I actually picked this one up at the grocery store for a dollar. Looked promising and funny. I like writers with their own brand of off-beat humor. I was kinda put-off from this one immediately. The humor was forced, the situations were exaggerated, and I felt like this author was one of those people who lurk around with a notepad and pencil, poised to capture anything they deem remotely interesting so they can write about it. Kinda pathetic. I can appreciate this book in small doses, and at 4 a.m. when I can’t sleep and am semi-delirious and EVERYTHING is funny. Even if she is an unlikable narrator who talks too much about how she thinks she’s overweight. It’s like the comic strip “Cathy,” in essay form.

Twilight–Stephenie Meyer
I had passed up Twilight several times before my awesome former roommate, Amy, recommended it. I wasn’t disappointed to find that there are many reasons why this book is so popular and appealing. I couldn’t put it down! Its tone is sweet and innocent, its plot is a pretty original spin on a common subject: vampires. I was amazed that this author had anything new to say about vampires, and impressed at the new angles she thought up. Edward, the vampire boyfriend of the main character, is all but perfect. Protective, sweet, beautiful, strong…he’s like a Disney prince charming for girls over age 8. My only criticism of Twilight is that some of the fat could’ve been trimmed. It’s a large book, and the focus for much of it started to seem mundane when you were about halfway through. Day after day, tedious detail after detail about everyday life…that’s not why we read. We read to get lost in a story. The action really picks up for the last half, and overall it’s a great read. I just picked up the sequel, and there are two additional books in the series just waiting for me. Twilight is still by far the best-reviewed of the four, so I’m not holding out really high hopes for the others. I’ve always been a sucker for series lit though…I get very attached to characters and always want to know what happens to them next. And YAY! Twilight the movie is coming to a theater near you in just a few short months. The trailers are out and it looks like the movie will do justice to the book. I can’t wait!