Thursday, 14 April 2011

Daydreaming and why reality sucks...

I will be the first to point out a serious flaw in my day-to-day behavior; I'm a chronic daydreamer. I spend about 70% of a weekday in my own mind somewhere. And it's very rarely your average run-of-the-mill daydream. I very often get carried away with daydreams. To the point where I randomly flail limbs or let slip utterances, the way someone would move or talk in their sleep. I'm pretty sure I get all that extra leg room on the train for a reason; commuters probably think I'm a nutter at this stage.
 I've heard people talking about their imaginings when bored. They seem to believe that they are odd for the things they divulge, ashamed of themselves for it. That's kinda frightening to me, listening to the stuff they talk about. If I was to tell them about what I daydream about, I don't think they would think twice before calling the nice men with the backwards jackets for me.
There seems to be a few stages of daydream for me. The first stage occurs where there is a few minutes of silence in a conversation and my mind wanders briefly. It usually only ends up with me imagining myself in somewhat nicer/superior surroundings than what my reality entails.
For example, from this:
To this:
Not a dramatic change and so rarely effects my outward appearance or behavior, except for a slight elevation in my mood.

The next type involves slightly more imagination. It again rarely effects my outward appearance to others. It does however give me a private smug satisfaction because I know they cannot see the awesomeness of what I can see.
For example, from this:
To this:


The last kind of daydream for me is a dangerous one. This is the limb-flailer. This is the one that causes me to make a fool of myself in public if my imaginings get too vivid. Because of the detail and planning that go into these types of daydreams,they are affectionately known by myself and another Crazy, as 'Brain Movies'. 

A Brain Movie can often be inspired by the smallest of things. Take for example, yesterday. It was 7am, I had just woken up (late) and without even having time to brush my hair, ran to the station to make it for my train. As I was inserting my train ticket into the validation machine, the hand gesture caused me to tumble into my own imagination. It was probably as a defensive mechanism for my horrified mind. Being up at 7am and jogging for half an hour when you're supremely unfit will do that to a gal.
It ended up leading to a wonderful daydream about having a pair of shades equal in coolness to those of Horatio Caine's and getting into a Western style shoot-out in a desert.
Needless to say, I killed all the bad guys in a fittingly awesome way and strode off into the sunset as mysterious and cool as they come. 

Then I got off my train and struggled through 5 hours of lectures.
.....
YEEAAAAHH



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Friday, 8 April 2011

A second Rage Day..with a sad ending.

Clearly the world is testing me. Yesterday I had a Rage Day. Although this time there were no floppy dogs to cheer me up or divert my attention. It started because an old man bade me 'Good Morning'. This is probably an even more ridiculous reason to be angry than last time but I do have an excuse.
I had an insanely horrible migraine due to sideways-emerging wisdom teeth. On top of that there was a head--cold (not helping the headache one bit) and a serious lack of sleep (blame goes to both the head-cold and the wisdom teeth).
I arrived early to college. I shouldn't have even been there in my condition but there was a class on that was mandatory and the attendance of it counted towards a small part of my final grade. The entire building was almost deserted so I decided I would go to the room of my first lecture and rest my head there until class was due to start.
So I was on my way down the hall when I spotted another life-form walking in my direction.
It was an old man that I recognized from my lecture halls. He clearly recognized me too because he steered himself in my direction. He looked insanely cheerful for that hour of the morning. Maybe it was only because I was suffering through a high fever and migraine, but it seemed to me that he was mocking me with his cheerfulness. There seemed to be a perceptible glow around him, showcasing his joy.
He strode right up to me and in a level of volume close to a shout, greeted me with "Good Morning!".
Being sick, in pain, going through a fever and half hysterical with lack of sleep, I offered him the only response as was available to me; A warm smile and a nod of recognition. Even this was painful as my head was not fond of any movement at that moment and my jaw was in agony from the wisdom teeth. I'm pretty sure it was very obvious that I was in a bad state. I had seen my own reflection in the mirror a few minutes previous. My face was flushed an angry red, pupils dilated, a sheen of sweat from the fever and pain across my face and neck. I really was in no condition to be in college. The old man however, seemed oblivious to all of this. He crossed his arms, adopted an irritated expression and asked:"Too early to say 'Good Morning'?". Rage flicked under the surface of my skin, further igniting the fever.
The old man seemed to notice this. I parroted his greeting back to him through gritted teeth. His face lost its irritated expression almost immediately.
I then spun on my heel and walked as quickly away from him as was possible in my condition. I attended the mandatory lecture and got the hell out of there. I was fuming with anger, over such a small encounter. The man's snide tone when speaking to me had thrown me completely off my stride. I had already been struggling to get through the day and that remark had been the last straw. I sat on the train home, miserable; my head pounding, my skin on fire, my breathing labored. There was no floppy dog to amuse me this time.
And it was fucking raining.
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Tuesday, 5 April 2011

The First Glimpse

Today I almost had, as I do about once every two weeks, one of my "rage" days. I describe it as such because on a "rage" day, the only thing I am likely to feel at any given moment of that day, is rage. Sounds simple enough. And it is. It is not, however, sane. At all. Which I guess is because neither am I.
Normal people start a day badly when, for example, they spill their morning coffee on their clean shirt.Or they stub their toe when attempting to leave their home. Not me. Nuh-uh. That aint how I roll.
You see, when I have a bad day it is usually triggered by the most ridiculous stimuli. Today was no different.
I was walking to the train station at around 7 am this morning. This is part of my normal travel routine to get to college.

The sun hadn't risen yet so the sky looked fairly murky, and I wasn't necessarily in a BAD mood (yet) but I wasn't doing a skip and a hop either. Just strolling along; not thinking in-depth thoughts or anything spectacular.
Then I hear the noise.
It wasn't what I would call loud or in any way annoying (to a normal person). It was just the sound of someone scuffing their sneakers on the sidewalk as they strolled along behind me. It shouldn't have even registered in my conscience. But suddenly....the RAGE started. I started hearing the sound as if it was a word being screamed in my face; "CSH! CSH! CSH!"
Luckily for the person behind me, I was seconds away from the train station. My jaw hurt from grinding my teeth. I knew from experience that this meant today would be a dangerous day for anyone around me.
Upon boarding my train, I was still angry. I couldn't get my face to stop frowning. What made it worse was that it seemed the moment I boarded the train, the murky sky had brightened. Outside, I saw nature sparkling away to itself and KNEW that it would start raining the moment I got off the train again, JUST to spite my bad mood.




So I sat there in the hideously colored seats (their hideousness had previously gone unnoticed but now, in my negatively heightened mood, they proved offensive to my senses) and I sulked and grimaced out at the world.
I probably would have gone on like that if it wasn't for a brown speck I saw right after a changeover of tracks at one of the stops in my journey.
It caught me off guard from my sulking. As the train slowly weaved through the countryside, the tracks got closer to where the dot was moving.
It was a dog, running alongside the train, chasing it. He had a look of pure contentment on his sloppy brown face.



I was transfixed by that extremely happy dog. I found myself grinning at him. Matching his goofy smile. It made me giddy watching him chasing the train. Suddenly I found that the anger from before had dissolved into a kind of relaxed feeling of wonder. Becoming happy because a dog chased a train was as equally ridiculous as getting mad at the world because I had heard someone scuffling their feet that morning.
But when I got off the train at the end of the line, that happiness didn't end. I ended up having a really good day. All because of a carefree dog. Well, I did say I wasn't quite sane...
And it never did rain in the end. :)





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