Remembering Dreams

So I forgot to write on Monday because I thought it was still Sunday. Yesterday, I had no excuse save that of completely forgetting. I guess that the whole accountability thing is thrown off if I just plain forget. Oh well. I even had something to say...I think. I can't remember for sure. Either way, thanks to Click-Track Heart, I have inspiration for today.

Two nights ago, I dreamed that I took a shower in my cubicle at work. Aside from having a shower head out of my desk, the dream seemed almost normal. You know, getting nude in the office, scrubbing my never-seen-the-sun parts of me. All in a day's work. The really weird part is that after my shower in plain view, I didn't like the clothes I had picked out for myself. They didn't match (should've been first clue. The day I notice my clothes not matching, I'll know somebody took my brain and replaced it with something that cares.) I wanted to change my pants, but I was too shy and embarrassed to change them in front of my colleagues.

I woke up in a usual way-no sweat or panting. And I think that it goes to show that the dreams that don't disrupt your slumber are really the ones that wring your brain.

Standard Beginnings

Most blogs seem to begin with a post about why they are blogging. And though it pains me to copy-cat so blatantly, it is the undoubtedly the first monster worth meditating on.

I always enjoy writing, but I so frequently feel no urge to do it. I'll begin a story, or book in some cases, write my little brain out for several weeks or months, but before completion, I bail. I lack follow-through. My guess is that I don't know what I'll do with a work once I complete it-so I don't complete it.

I started writing a lot about two years ago. Before that, I didn't care at all. It was when my good friend from high school moved to town and we started talking about books, writing, expression, and the like. It was thrilling and inspiring. As we spoke, stories and concepts floated into my brain like that stray black hair that rides the waves in a hot tub, and I couldn't get away from it. Soon, another friend suggested a writer's club, a new outlet of creative energies. We began and got to work. I chronicled my some of my substitute teaching days, fiddled with a novel, a short story or two, and eventually dove into a book idea that I thought promising that still dominates my thoughts. But something happened. She moved away. He is loaded with projects. I lost my drive.

I'm here for accountability. I feel the need to write, but to write in a place where I feel I need to. My meditations will hopefully amuse and inspire as my friends have amused and inspired me.

Welcome to Monster Meditation.