Okay, just a refresher for the sake of me and my readers on why I’m going to blog every single day of December: I’ve got a feeling a lot of big things are going to happen in it that will change me inside and outside for, probably, the rest of my life, and I want to document all that happens and all that I think and do for future reference and reminiscing. Seems that could be applied to all the writing I do, come to think of it – just replace ‘this Christmas’ with ‘my life’. Documentation. And the really neat thing is that I can change the date of publication on this blog, so even if I’m a bit late one night; say, I’m publishing around 2 am, I can still flip it back to the day it’s about. Tehe. Which is a real saving grace for me, seeing as I’m so lazy about these things (blogging every day will be good for me simply in that it’s a daily commitment, too).
I’d like to claim that I was busy today, and maybe I was, but it’s such a relative term, isn’t it? In the eyes of someone who clocks in 9 to 5, 5 days a week, like a businessman (because we live in such a business-oriented world; saw an interesting video today, check it out and may ye be productive-itised), I was not busy today – apart from going to the gym in the morning (which was open again, yay) I sat in my pyjamas reading and staring at my computer screen for the better part of the day. But on the other hand I did a lot of things; I progressed in my essay research and writing, though not as much as I’d hoped to (I never do); I did some interacting with friends and became involved in a potentially exciting- no, scratch that, I’m excited about it right now – project which may eventually reach public domain, but for now, just forget I said anything, I was just trying to add things to the list of what I did today; I hooked my site up to Facebook which resulted in a massive influx of visitors, completely thanks to all you, cheers cheers; and…I sent my first CouchRequest. Wow. That sentence had waaay too many commas.
I know I’ve talked about food and munching a lot recently, and I promise I’ll try to cut back after tonight (on the talking and the munching, I fear I’ve overdone the Christmas spirit a bit – that is until I cook up some delish cookies, or whatever you call them here). But do you remember that bit of conversation in Dickens’ A Christmas Carol about the connection of food and dreams? Don’t worry if you don’t, our dear friend Mr. Internet has conveniently supplied it for us (and if you have the time the full text can be found here).
“You don’t believe in me,” observed the Ghost [of Marley].
“I don’t.” said Scrooge.
“What evidence would you have of my reality, beyond that of your senses?”
“I don’t know,” said Scrooge.
“Why do you doubt your senses?”
“Because,” said Scrooge, “a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There’s more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!”
Scrooge was not much in the habit of cracking jokes, nor did he feel, in his heart, by any means waggish then. The truth is, that he tried to be smart, as a means of distracting his own attention, and keeping down his terror; for the spectre’s voice disturbed the very marrow in his bones.
…
“You see this toothpick?” said Scrooge, returning quickly to the charge, for the reason just assigned; and wishing, though it were only for a second, to divert the vision’s stony gaze from himself.
“I do,” replied the Ghost.
“You are not looking at it,” said Scrooge.
“But I see it,” said the Ghost, “notwithstanding.”
“Well!” returned Scrooge, “I have but to swallow this, and be for the rest of my days persecuted by a legion of goblins, all of my own creation. Humbug, I tell you! humbug!”
This passage has stuck with me more than any other from that story, though it is fantastic in its entirety, as is Dickens. And I’ve found it to be true; when one snacks, particularly right before falling asleep, one is plagued through each successive sleep cycle with all manner of strange dreams. Some people claim to never remember their dreams; I typically remember fragments, and sometimes am inclined to write them down in hopes of fashioning some meaning from them, but lately have not been so inclined. It’s just weirdness. Partially enjoyable while in them but mostly just colliding illustrations of the random things I think during the day.
I could go on and on about both sleep and dreams, but I won’t; for now I’ll leave it at that I should stop eating so late at night (though I’m eating right now, mm, Velvety Caramel Chocolate Shortcake. Wow. I’m a pig. Last time I went shopping I told my friend that I was only buying all these sweets because of the occasion, that I do it no other time of the year, and he told me I say that every time we go shopping. Ouch. True. But I’m a firm believer in exercise!)
And I sent my first couchsurfing request today; two, actually. I meant to send out a bunch tonight, but, as you no doubt know, time gets away from one when one is occupied with so many concerns of varying importance. (I think even just that taster of Dickens did something to my language…)
It’s quite weird, asking a complete stranger if you can stay over. I could be doing it wrong, but I think the inherent nature of radical ideas is that it takes a while to get used to. That’s alright. We could all stand for a little more non-conventional interaction. I’m looking forward to seeing what comes of these, because even if I don’t end up staying with the people I contact, I may still be able to meet up with them, possibly get some tours, and network! the sacrosanct activity of the modern era.
That’s about enough for tonight, isn’t it? Thank you so much for stopping by once again, and definitely remember that you can always tell me if you want to hear about something I’m not talking about enough (hard as it may be to imagine me not talking about something enough).
And may all your Internet trawlings be jolly. (Oo! I learned the difference between holly and mistletoe today too! Okay. Stop talking.)
-Brad
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