Friday, April 04, 2008

My mother commented the other day, in her motherly way, about the bruise on Ender's shin, the cut on Joshua's arm, the scrape on Ender's elbow, the bump on Joshua's head, the Ender's fading black eye, and so on. In a very motherly way so I wouldn't miss all the subtext.

"Heck yes they've been getting hurt a lot," I said in my son-erly way. "We've been riding in the wagon, going to the park, sliding on the slides, swinging on the swings, running through the fields, splashing in the kiddie pool, climbing up and down ladders, throwing baseballs, chasing the dog, wrestling, playing in the sandbox, tearing around the backyard, and generally jack-assing around. I expected them to be hurt much worse than this."

My mother did not seem reassured.

Thursday, April 03, 2008

I met with a real, honest-to-goodness psychiatrist the other day. We spoke for about an hour. I tried to make a good impression despite my appearance. The shaved head and face look has gone by the wayside as I further shun societal norms. I kind of look like Wolverine right now. I even trimmed the sideburns for that Canadian Berserker look.

At the end of our session, I was prescribed a medication for ADD, a medication for depression, and a medication to help me sleep.

I talked her out of the sleep medication. I had told her about my vivid dreams, my sleep-flailing, my occasional shouting, and how sometimes, just sometimes, when I wake up the dream images linger into my waking sight, like old decals on a dirty window.

But I like my dreams. I love my active nightlife, so to speak, and I find dreaming to be an ideal time to mull over likely and unlikely scenarios. My dreams are strange, sure, but usually in them I am me. I walk around, crack-wise, quip, and argue. Just like real life, except it may involve a dinosaur or giant Goomba from Mario Brothers 3 or a girl I haven't seen in a very long time.

Don't mess with my dreams, lady. You don't want to make them angry.

So we'll see. I hope Tom Cruise isn't right about how this may lead to harder drugs. I can easily picture myself feeling better, getting my life together, working hard at a good job, making decent money, and then using that money to buy heroin and injecting it directly into my eyes.

I can hardly wait.

Monday, March 31, 2008

Have you ever woken up nude in a pile of REI receipts with a splitting headache and the lingering feeling, like a fading dream, that you desperately needed a replacement part for the drive train of a bike you do not own?

Then, trying to get up involves tunneling out of a pile of Nalgene bottles and metallic pouches of freeze-dried blueberry cheesecake?

It's a dreadful feeling, but at least soon you'll have plenty of cheesecake.

Sunday, March 30, 2008

I went wandering around in the mountainous desert yesterday. The sun had long since set and I was enjoying picking my way along the winding path in the weak light when I heard a crunch crunch crunch. I was downwind and I turned to look. I could barely make out a shape coming towards me in the gloom. It looked human.

A silent debate ensued in my head as I struggled to decide the proper etiquette for announcing oneself without immediately being perceived as a rather large, scruffy, lawless and unpredictable Mexican boy, which of course I am.

I just said hello. In perfect English, mind you. Er, in as perfect as English gets. It's a little too guttural and nasal for my tastes.

The hiker jerked in surprise. I said hello again.

Turns out her name was Sarah and she had been lost for about an hour. She hadn't really planned on getting lost and had no light. I had my headlamp so I offered to help her find her way out. I had walked from my parent's house (as my father and I used to do when we kids were small) so it was no trouble at all. After about half an hour later we were at her car. I said goodnight and that perhaps we'd meet again under better circumstances. Then I continued on my way home.

I was pleased that I was able to be of use to someone.

But I kept looking back as I walked home. Who else, I wondered, might still be out there?