I Want All My Posts to Have Titles

I forgot to comment on how I made up the word "Homerican" in my post the day before yesterday. I know you all laughed at me because I certainly laughed at me. I wonder what the word could define?

I've been experiencing a weird rash of anti-social tendencies. I start conversations then walk away from the computer and have been avoiding people. Part of this is related to the fact that online environments don't particularly meet my social needs anymore. I used to be a large fan, but no longer. This isn't to say that I want to stop talking to my friends on the computer, cause I love you guys and gals..girls...women...people. But I also don't feel like going out and making new friends. Maybe I'll go out tonight, because I have a feeling this is unhealthy. I don't know, surface socialization also isn't doing it for me. I want a deep and interesting discussion.

I had a series of interesting dreams last night. One was about a gonzo reporter working for a generic large company which is about to crash. He works his way up through the ranks, filled with people on drugs with no morals, and gets to the second in command, who's name I can't remember. High on various cocktails, he screams that the President of the company, Ted, was always good at the food business, making something out of starch, and the company was a huge lie waiting to crash. He then asks if the reporter was going to kill him, and the reporter tells him no, but he is going to turn him in, to which the second-in-command replies that if the jury kills him the reporter will have killed him. The reporter suddenly has a change of heart and says that what the jury does is not his fault, but if the reporter makes the second-in-command look like a hero then the jury will be less likely to give him life in prison. The dream ended there. Also, people on drugs looked sort of like the painting, "The Rape of.." I can't remember the Rape of what. Anyways, I blame seeing the cover of "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" yesterday for this dream. Hunter S. Thompson apparently ripped out pages of his journal and sent them back to his sports writer boss, who had them published. I think that was also on Cracked.

I had another dream where my parents bought me a house. We were moving things through it and I screamed at my mom to stop listening to Pink's new song "So What" because it reminded me of the end of my relationship with Chris, which made me look like an ass in front of the movers. Anyways, next door was a rich millionaire kid who was 18 and had taken an interest in me. He had a party and invited me over, where we did puzzles and swam in his extremely large pool. The water was the perfect temperature and I skimmed through it with great ease. He obviously *liked* me, kept complimenting me, and wanted me to join his group of extremely tight friends who reminded me of Chelsea's group, with tons of in-jokes and such. I was having a dilemma, because(and this is true in real life) there is only one person I would want to go out with right now, and if he expressed interest I would not want to be tied up in a relationship which I didn't even really want, even though he already turned me down for a date. To clarify, because I think that gives it away, I'm not expecting anything and would be happy with simply friendship from this person, and I am not a big fan of being in a relationship simply to be in a relationship. The boy and were having a play fight after he had invited me over to swim with him for two days, but I decided to leave because of it for real. Even though I was wondering about my decision, the two friends(not real life friends) whom I had come with said that I had made the right choice, as the group expected too much of a time commitment, and one said, "I'm not an everlasting fountain of wit". The boy confronted me and called me a spoiled brat , and I said that was actually what he was, with the amount of time he had to fool around. He left, hurt, and I was sad for the loss of a friend but somewhat relieved that the choice had been made for me. Then my parents and I were finishing setting up my fish room, and I was looking on Ebay for a python to use with the 55 gallon tank.

Though the activities bear a superficial resemblance to things I did with Chris, this boy did not represent anybody I know, though he resembled Dustin. This is strange, because I only ever knew Dustin peripherally, and haven't thought about him..ever.

Also, there was something about being trapped in a museum looking for artifacts with my dad and having to go through the various cultures while body guards and booby traps came to life.