Something;s Messed Up

Warning to all computer users out there... I believe I am the first to discover an insidious new virus wreaking havoc on our beloved machines.

For the past few weeks, I have noticed that I can;t seem to type apostrophes properly. Whenever I attempt this normally mundane feat, it isn;t an apostrophe I see... At first, I thought maybe I;d managed to re-map a couple of keys on my keyboard, but that can;t be it. You see, it happens no matter which computer I;m sitting at!

As of yet, haven;t figured out a fix for this perplexing problem. While I'm working on it, though, please forgive any unusual characters you might see in emails, chats, comments, or posts from me. For now, I;m pretty sure it;s an isolated character set (I;m close to figuring out exactly which ones), but you never know how these virus things work... The situation could easily get worse before it get;s betteR.

Existence

Who am I once I fall asleep? Who is this dream-self, this person so like me yet so utterly different? How, once slumber has taken its hold, do I know his world, his life, his thoughts? We are like two people existing in one body. My consciousness becomes tangled in his, giving me the eerie feeling that I am at once a participant and a passenger here.

This again. This place that is both odd and oddly familiar. The concrete walls stretching high overhead, the gravel floor, the single massive doorway leading to a grey world outside, and the enormous ramp, obviously built to handle something very large or a great many small things at once. Where does it lead? Even my dream-self doesn't know. We never go there.

In the floor, near the wall, is a hole. Beside the hole, a pile of rock. The hole is shallow, empty, pointless. I made this hole, not now, but another time. A darker time. And there were others here then. Was I searching for something? I can't remember. I can't remember digging, I only know I did. The hole is a reminder that I've been here before.

Maybe not so pointless...

That ledge up there, just beyond the ramp... I've stood there looking down here. That time I came upon this place from above, climbing down a rocky ledge until my feet touched concrete. That time, there was no high cement ceiling to keep out the sky, but it was still this place. The hole was there then, too. And the others.

My dream-self moves about as though he knows our purpose here. We stand at the edge of the hole, but not looking at the hole. I am in awe at the sheer size of this bizarre structure, while my dream-self shows no interest in our surroundings at all. He is preoccupied. I know, because I feel it too, but by what I don't know. I am much more the passenger now.

But I want to know more. What is the purpose of this place? What lies outside the door? Where are the others? This body is my body too and I will it to turn around, to see the things I want to see, to go where I want to go. The hole is behind us now, the doorway looming ahead of us. Just a few more steps...

Like every time before this, everything is fading. The walls, the floor, the ramp... everything. I struggle to hold it all together, as if I have the power to keep this world from dissolving into nothingness. But I don't. Like every time before this, I swear I will remember everything, even after it ceases to exist, although I know in my core that I won't. But it doesn't matter... I'll be back. I always come back here.

Now, my dream-self has slipped off into the shadows, stealing his memories away with him. I am alone, in my bed, surrounded by the familiarity I call "life".

And there was something I was supposed to remember...

Edit: While I truly do have this weird feeling like I lead a totally different life in my dreams, reading over this I realize that I probably shouldn't blog under the influence of heavy cold medication!

My Eyes! I'm Not Supposed to Get Crap in Them!

It's official: The world of entertainment has hit the bottom of the barrel.

Sad to say, even I've become accustomed to flipping through the channels and seeing at least 3 different programs spotlighting the "sport" of Texas Hold 'Em Poker. I can't say that I've ever watched an episode, but I accept they are there and that some people think this is entertaining. Hell, if I played poker, I might watch just to get tips. But I don't, so I don't.

That being said, as I was sitting back and getting a cathode ray tan this weekend, I stumbled across what has to be the stupidest thing I've ever seen (and, let's face it, there's a lot of stupid stuff on TV).

It was on A&E. Remember that channel? In the early 90's it was often referred to as the "War and Comedy" channel, thanks to a line-up of shows focusing on World War II or stand-up comedy. Then it evolved into the "Crime and Punishment" channel with the likes of "Cold Case Files" and "American Justice". Although I'm not sure if these four topics could ever be considered "art", they were definitely "entertainment". So, close enough for me.

A terrible corner has been turned, however, with their latest offering: "Rock Paper Scissors Championship". Seriously. A full hour devoted to a school yard game used to decide which team captain gets first pick! Seriously. People from all across the U.S. who have apparently, through the use of "skill", risen to the top and earned the right to compete for the title of Rock Paper Scissors Champion.

Did I miss something? Have the Laws of Reality and Common Sense been turned completely inside out? How would you "train" for something like this? It would be like training to call a coin-toss, or studying how to buy the winning ticket in a 50-50 draw. Come on, people! It's luck... nothing else! And no self-respecting adult should be signing a waiver to allow their stupidity to be shown on national TV.

I only watched about 3 minutes of this garbage before surfing on the find something -- anything -- better, but I was "fortunate" enough to have caught a little bio on one of the competitors. She was asked how Rock Paper Scissors has helped her in life. Seriously... I can't even make this kind of stuff up. She told a rambling tale of living on the street, needing to anticipate the actions of others to protect herself. Then she told of a time that her and few friends only had enough money to buy one meal at McDonald's, and they played Rock Paper Scissors for it. Staring straight into the camera, she proclaimed, "Because of Rock Paper Scissors, I got to eat that day."

I swear, if they start televising Bingo, I'm canceling my cable package.

What It's All About

Like Dads everywhere, I awoke this morning to a little voice saying, "Can I give you your present now?"

Although I love my new change dish, and it will get an honored spot on my bedside table for years to come, I wonder if my tiny angel knows that the best present I ever got came 6 years ago.

Happy Father's Day!

Photo of the Week: Cast Away

A sight for stranded eyes.
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Ooo! That's Gonna Leave a Mark!

I logged into YouTube today, looking for something entertaining to watch while I ate my lunch, and I was hit in the face with this:

Thanks for the blow to my self-esteem, YouTube! If anyone needs me, I'll be stuffing my face with a gallon of Rocky Road...

I'm On Steroids!

It finally got to me... I tried to ignore it as best I could, but it wouldn't leave me alone... I thought I was going to go insane if I couldn't find a way to make it stop.

I'm not talking about Chana nagging me to go see a doctor... I'm talking about the itching!

The rash wasn't any better this morning. In fact, it was worse. The affected area seemed to have grown a bit, and the itching was definitely more intense. Still, being the guy I am, I tried to shrug it off and tough it out one more day before getting alarmed. Of course, the very second Chana saw me this morning, she demanded that I go get looked at or run the risk of killing her with stress.

Maybe someday she'll understand my point of view when it comes to doctors... but I doubt it.

Despite my "mind over matter" attitude, however, by the time I got to work I was ready to crawl out of my skin! As long as I had something to occupy my mind, I was fine, but it was a slow day and there was lots of time to sit there at my desk and think, "Damn! This itches!"

I decided I would leave work early and go see a doctor. I figured 2 o'clock would be good, so that I didn't miss too much time. We've got a cruise to pay for, after all! Well, I only made it to 11:30 before I told the boss I just couldn't hang in there any longer. Then I called Chana, and she was only too happy to come get me and take me to the clinic.

Big surprise, eh?

And if caving in like that wasn't a big enough piece of humble pie for me, Chana had to serve it up with a bit of ice cream. Here's how:

We were sitting in the waiting room and talking about all the things that could have caused the rash. As I said, I didn't do anything different on the weekend, didn't change any of my soaps or personal toiletries, and didn't wear any new clothes. It was then that Chana made a joke about me being allergic to my new camera. Ha ha ha.

Wait.

At that very moment, we both knew exactly what had caused the break-out. As stupid as it sounds, it had to have been my new camera... Or, more precisely, the neck strap. You see, there's a piece of soft rubber on the strap right where it rests against my neck. And this is the only new thing that was anywhere near me this weekend. On top of that, I remember having an identical reaction to a hands-free headset I bought for my cell phone. It, too, had that rubbery material on the behind-the-ear part. The resulting rash behind my ear nearly drove me nuts!

So, she not only got me to go to a doctor, but then she diagnosed me before I even got in the room... I'm not going to hear the end of this one any time soon.

Anyway, I've been put on this prescription cream that I have to apply 3 times a day to control the itching and reduce the inflammation. It's something called a "corticosteroid", but I'm going to go with "steroids" because it sounds cooler.

You can't expect me to give up all my Manly Silliness at once...