It's been a year, but that's basically how I roll. Literally roll, through the dirt and mud of my life.

My dog hates that I'm doing this more than I do.

I'm really just comforted by the clacking of keys, I can barely see what it is I'm writing let alone think about it.

I remember a time when I was hopeful for the future - frightened but hopeful - of all the things that I could achieve but probably wouldn't. I think Elliott Smith said it best:

"Drink up baby, stay up all night
with the things you could do -
you won't but you might -
the potential you see
that you'll never be,
the promises you'll only make"

If this isn't a universal emotion then I'm clearly some sort of overdramatic, drastically unpleasant loser. "Of epic proportions".

Few people talk to me willingly. I make a lot of people confused, or angry, and I'm not sure if I'm the one who misunderstands them or if it's the other way around. I try to empathize, but it's difficult when they discuss their two week paid vacations and college degrees they obtained for nothing other than bragging rights.

I find solace in fiction. It is the universe around which I build my life. Nothing true makes sense, but fiction has this logic that is lacking in life. Unless, of course, I simply have not experienced enough life to find the logic in it, a possibility which I am not excluding; I am not the master of any reality, not even mine.

Is there a word for my lack of acceptance of any single reality? I constantly bounce between states of being, one minute being overjoyed at the prospects of the universe and the next wallowing in self-pity. How do I know which reality is correct? If it's all my perception, then my choice of which to accept is all that matters, but then that would make reality a highly malleable and subjective state which wouldn't really make it reality at all, and more a changeable software on a hard drive.

I know what you're thinking though - you, that invisible, non-existent reader, probably think that I am some sort of bipolar, but I assure you this is not the case. There are no manic highs. Certainly there are days I don't want to leave my bed but I attribute that more to good sense and hormones more than anything else.

Are blogs supposed to talk about specific things? I suppose I could do that, though I seem to be rambling.

I guess I could rant about how much I hate going to salons to get haircuts, but it seems so trivial.

Maybe some other day (see quotes above).

I dreamt of ancient gods and fertility rituals. I dreamt I was heavy with child and had to run through forests from the wild cries of the natives crazed with spirit or drugs. This world blended seamlessly with our modern one, and I kept mistaking one for the other, kept tripping with my heavy belly trying to lead myself away from danger.

Books Rated R?

I find it so ironic that people are up in arms over their children reading Fifty Shades of Gray when the Bible has more violence and probably mentions sex more times than any other book a child might read.

I spent my entire childhood reading - I read pretty much anything I could get my hands on and had I been denied access to a book I'm sure that I would have figured out a way to either steal it or obtain it. If any government starts trying to censor books in this way kids will read less and less, and more and more books will be "pirated" from the internet, and authors will make even less money. The whole idea of "rating" books is complete nonsense - if people just raised their children to be honest and ask questions, then it wouldn't matter what they were reading as you could just discuss it with them after they were done.

Granted, I wouldn't want an 8 year old reading Fifty Shades of Gray, but mostly because it's filled with the type of trash that also fills daytime television talk shows.

I read A Clockwork Orange before I even started high school and I skipped over the really violent rape scenes (for the most part) - they didn't leave me with confused feelings and I'm not some crazed sadistic sex fiend now that I'm an adult. Mostly the rape scenes just made me a little uncomfortable so I would skim through them until I knew they were over. Even though I didn't necessarily understand what "rape" was, I understood that it was something, for lack of a better term, "not nice" and that it was part of the chaos of Alex.

I think people need to give their children more credit. Everyone just assumes that your child is going to see something or hear something "not nice" and then turn into maniacs. Really, you should be more concerned when your child experiences something "not nice", which, in my opinion, most parents are quick to overlook. Kids are not idiots. Yes, they're innocent, but they do have minds and are capable of thinking about the things around them.

Waxing and Waning Poetic

Sometimes I really wish I were more "in tune" with the universe around me. I read all these histories of ancient peoples and everyone's lives depended on the natural world, and so they respected and loved (and sometimes feared) the very earth under their feet. In the modern world of processed foods and genetically enhanced vegetables (not that I mind those, really) a person could find themselves forgetting just where all this food actually comes from.

Ideally, I would love to live on a farm. I'm aware of the long hours of hard labor that are involved with growing your own food but I feel like it would be worth it.

Realistically, I'm aware that I have grown up lazy and would probably balk at the thought of actually working hard from sun up to sun down - and outside no less! I'm nothing if not honest.

I think these constantly conflicting feelings are what get me so confused sometimes, because I think things like this often. I should probably change my ideals but I was brought up on story books so I don't even know how. At least I'm honest enough to know the difference between my ideals and reality, and I've never been one to preach my private morals to others; that would make me a hypocrite and anyway who am I to tell someone else how to live?

But there's rain today, and the rain always makes me wish I lived somewhere quiet, away from cars and people, just a little shack in the woods with a cozy fire and a soft bed with a pillow filled with goose down. I would leave the windows open while it rains and enjoy the smells of the wet forest. I would share my house with a cat who would earn his keep by catching mice and bugs. I might even keep a dog for hunting.

These are just silly dreams, though. I would probably quail without my high speed internet connection and a hot shower. I'm weak like that.

It's good to laugh sometimes.

Unknown Things

Last night I dreamt of a love story in the bayou. I've never been there, only experienced it second-hand, but there were wetlands and rivers and the air smelled spicy and damp. The girl lived in a house built into a tree. The boy had just moved in down the street and was trying to escape his wretched life. They saved each other from the perils of their parents. I woke before they could even share their first kiss.

Sometimes I wonder why I dream in cinematics. From where did these plots come? Could I be seeing the lives of others? Are my dreams really cross-dimensional visions of unknown worlds? Or am I over exaggerating again? They feel so real. Every time I wake up I long to go back to them, and on the off-chance I do fall asleep again the dreams pick up in the exact same time line. If only I could meet these characters that parade around in my head all night. Their sweetness keeps my breath from me. Maybe they would be sympathetic to the bizarre circumstances of my life and personality.

Olympics

Children in the US are not taught to appreciate what goes on in the Olympics, and how much work and dedication it takes to get there. I never was, and I still don't fully understand the reasoning behind all the pomp that comes with the Olympics. The only way I was vaguely able to understand reasoning behind it was by reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, in which Harry attends the World Cup for Quidditch. I wish that our world were more like theirs, where there are reasons (even if diabolical ones) for hatred and evil, instead of just stupid people with guns fighting wars they don't fully understand.