#8.

#7.

#6.

This apartment is
MINE.


:)

#5.

How hard it seems to be, to come across some true inspiration. I don't draw in my free time. I should.
I'm writing... now. But everything I have to say just feels so bland. Nothing to it.

I'm so boring. :(

It's gray outside today.
I'm at work for another 5 hours. Customers irritate me. Leave me alone. I don't want to answer your stupid questions about whether or not the over-priced dishes are dishwasher safe. Who cares? Go to Thrift Town or Goodwill & buy something that doesn't require wasting more resources & materials than we have. Jerk.

I wish I had a boy. I hate saying that. It sounds so petty. But, goddamn it. It's so true. I hate this lonely feeling constantly hovering just above me, then sinking low enough to cloud my brain with unbearable depression for at least an hour every day. Why am I so unwanted? I've dated, oh, say... 10 guys in the past year... & not a single one is interested in anything but what I've got to offer from the neck down. Fuckers. :(

Well shit. That last paragraph totally fucked up my mood. This is not going in a good direction.
I don't want to be here. I don't want to be anywhere. I'm lonely everywhere I go, anyways.

This is not supposed to be an emo pity-me type of journal entry. I just need to write. I need to find a flow.

Flow.
Sticky sweet clouds. Whipped cream clouds.
Stop.

I have five $1 bills in my wallet. I am tempted to go to the cafe next door for some coffee.
I spent $140-something last night at Walmart, so as to re-furnish the kitchen/bathrooms in my apartment after my roommate leaves & takes everything. I only had $130-something in my bank account. That was the remainder of my paycheck. I don't get paid again for another 11 days. Oh damn.

I can't.

#4.

Dreams are funny things.
I have a few 'dream dictionaries'... those are funny things, too. How easy it would be to write a book, listing 1,000 or so symbols one might find in their dream (ie: banana, lace, airplane, bunny slippers, etc.) & make up some bull explaining their meaning and what the dreamer might expect to cross in the near future.
That might be something to look into... I'll add it to my list of goals/get-rich-quick-schemes.

Anyways. Back the present story.
Last night, I had two (?) dreams. (I include the ?, as they very well may have been two parts of the same dream... but the connection has since been lost.)

It should also be noted that last night, I attended a little get-together at Annie's, a friend. There, I saw Hiram, also a friend. I also went to Wal-Mart for the first time in several months yesterday. Ok.


Dream #1:
I am in Annie's house, which is not at all like her house in what we might refer to as "real life". I am there with Annie, my roommate-to-be: Kate & my cousin Shannon. Shannon and Kate are perhaps drunk? On Annie's wall, there are a series of dark brown wicker baskets hanging. In the one farthest to my left, I find a pile of clothing. I ask Annie about it- she says the clothes belong to Hiram. I decide that it is necessary to take these clothes to Hiram immediately. But first, I decide that it would be funny to dress up like Hiram, & then deliver his clothes looking like him. "What the fuck?" you might ask... me too. I ask Annie if she has any cut off shorts I could use. She points to a shelf near the ground- "those are Hiram's clothes, too. You can wear his cut off shorts." So, I do. Why I don't just fold the clothes I am intending on taking to him and put them on the shelf with the others, I do not know. I then, after going through all of Hiram's clothes, go into Annie's closet to find a flannel shirt. In Annie's closet, there is a quote painted on the wall. I do not remember it, but as I read it, I overhear Annie & her (in real life ex-)girlfriend fighting. They are apparently breaking up. As they fight in the other room, I search Annie's closet for a flannel. I find it. I put it on. It's perfect. Shannon, Kate & I go to Hiram's workplace, which in dream-life is apparently a Wal-Mart type of store, & present him with the clothes. He breaks out his guitar and serenades the entire store with a song of thanks. I am delighted.

Dream #2:
I am in my father's truck. He is driving. We are on our way to a barbecue or dinner of sorts hosted by a couple from the church my father attends. We get into an argument on the way there as to who will be in attendance. It is stupid and doesn't last long. We arrive. I see several other youth from the church which I recognize and say 'hello' to. I do not receive a warm welcome from them. They are eating. My father hands me a check to give to the hosts. As I look at it, I notice that he paid for 6 people, even though it is only the two of us. How generous, I think. At some point, I walk into a garage in which people are working/cleaning. I am asked to put away some refrigerators... by myself. The refrigerators are apparently supposed to hang from the ceiling on some kind of chain. I am to lift them and hang them from the chain... by myself. At this point... I wake.


So, obviously not the most exciting dreams. 
But it's interesting to record them & look for details I may have missed. I rarely write down my dreams. I should more often. I will.

#3.

Woah.
It's August.

#2.

I'm still trying to figure out what I'm doing with this.
I guess it's just going to turn into a journal, for the most part. That's not very exciting.

Maybe I'll start recording my dreams on here.
Of course, that means I'll need to start writing them down first.
& before any of that, I need to start remembering my dreams, which probably means I should stop smoking pot.
Hmm... maybe not.

I could write some poetry,
& speak from my core.
Though I'm not very good
& that may be quite a bore.

I've been exploring Zen Buddhism a lot lately. I'll head to the Bodhi Manda Zen Center in Jemez Springs tomorrow or Monday for a few days. Perhaps I'll start writing about my experiences there.
Or... maybe words are lies & I should focus on being in the present moment.

-sigh-

Sorry folks.
Looks like it's The Life & Times of Dannie for now.

Bedtime, I suppose.
My apartment smells like fish.
Fuck you, roommate. Get your damn dirty fishbowl outta here.