malapropisms

Sometimes I think about what I would write about were I to have a Real Blog, in which I discussed a Certain Subject, ad nauseam. It's difficult to ponder, since the only thing I've ever really written about is ME, in all of my nauseous glory--so much the inner workings of only MY LIFE that the details only interest me and me alone--and as a result I wonder whatever the hell else it is that I could write about.

Dreams come up a lot, since I am what you might call a prolific dreamer, but again, most dreams are only really interesting to the dreamer. I imagine maintaining such a meticulous record that I wake up and write out the dream just dreamed, post it, and spend the day reviewing the images and pondering the symbolism and ultimately arriving at an interpretation. What a task, to uncover the messages of a subconscious, all in a day's work! Is it okay to write so self-indulgently, so unabashedly self-absorbed? It would perhaps help me understand such great conundrums as why I have the recurring dream of a house I used to live in, like the one I had last night in which I was reacquiring the house I grew up in. The thread that unites these recurring dreams is the revisiting of a place which was so integral to my past. I go back, and things are not as I left them. In fact, they are very different, but there is just enough of a visual memory of how things were that I can't pretend I was never there. Such as last night. I have an opportunity to purchase the house of my childhood in Roanoke. I walk through the house, and instead of my mom's antiques quaintly nestled in our 19th century colonial gem, there are leather sofas and flat-screened televisions, darkness and ceiling fans. So many flat-screened televisions! So many that there are also televisions on the ROOF, as if they were solar panels!

But, nobody wants to read about that.

I think about things I notice in my daily life...the little things that make me go 'huh.' But they aren't that interesting either. In fact, most of them are about grammar. Seriously. I am such the grammar...snob? Is it snobbish to notice? And by noticing, am I judging? I just might be, a little! But only because I know what's right, what is grammatically correct, and is that my fault? Should I try to forget that the perfect tense of 'swim' is 'swum?' I can't even help it if I cringe a little bit when I hear it. I can't even help ruling out the guy at the Y as a potential date since he hasn't swam in so long. And why is it always the motherfucking perfect tense? Where did it go? Why have we drank? Was it the kool-aid?

I wonder, does this make me a boring person? That I don't have enough to say about things like current events or the war or the presidency? I do think about those things, quite a lot actually, but I don't want to have a whole BLOG about them. I just want to come somewhere and write about my life a little, since by writing it down I am offering the best I can, which is my own personal history. Perhaps somebody someday will find it worth reading. And by somebody I mean ME, since really I just need the practice so that one day I'll write out the whole damn thing. And don't get me started on 'one day.'