Dang nightmares

It's been a very long time since I've had a nightmare so bad I didn't want to go to sleep again, but here it is, almost three in the morning, and I can't sleep now. I woke up a few hours ago, turned on all the lights, locked my door, and took out my skinning knife, loosened it from its sheath, and kept it nearby, that's how freaked out I was. And no, I'm not going to relate the dream. Just wanted to mention that I hate having nightmares. Also, I want my mommy.

So apparently, I'm going to have my picture in the paper this week. At work on Sunday, Kortnie was casting around for story ideas and I mentioned, half-jokingly, that she could write about how juggling club needs more members or it'll be canceled. Well, she liked the idea (that or she was desperate), so at practice on Wednesday, a reporter and photographer showed up to write a story about us. And I was the only person there on Wednesday. They were really disappointed, and I wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or to laugh at them and ask, "Well, what did you expect?" The photographer wanted to come back on Friday to see if there were more people then, but her boss walked by and she asked him (her deadline is a few hours before practice Friday), and he said, "Nope, just shoot what's there now." So I went through my repertoire of tricks while she took pictures. I felt pretty silly.

I think it's definitely time for a new glasses prescription. It's been almost four years since my last eye appointment, and I'm having trouble reading stuff that I'm positive should be way easy to read. Heck, if I sit in the back of the classroom, I can't read the expression on the teacher's face anymore, much less the board. I've found that sitting in the second row helps me pay attention anyway. It's close enough that I don't feel distanced from the teacher, but far enough away that I don't get nervous, feeling like the teacher's watching everything I do. Maybe that's why I have trouble paying attention in HEL. In that class, I sit with my friends, who sit in the back corner of the room. I admit, I like sitting in the back corner because it gives me a nice view of everyone in the room. Also, maybe it's because I'm still paranoid about that nightmare, but I'm thinking it's nice having solid walls at my back. I don't think it's because of the nightmare, though. I really do like having solid walls at my back. I don't like people sneaking up on me, and I don't like being touched from behind. That's why I get more tense when people try to give me a massage.

...How the heck did I get on this topic from talking about my glasses?

.....Oh, right.

So anyway, I was thinking about that when I was walking home from my classes today, and as I did, it occurred to me to wonder if anyone else has little black lines that float across their vision, or white sparkles (no, not snow). I usually ignore them, and really only even notice them when I'm looking at the sky or when I'm exceptionally tired. So I began wondering if maybe that's not normal and that maybe I'll end up going blind because of it. I doubt it. But then I started wondering what it would be like to be blind. Juggling and playing the piano would be drastically harder. Playing the computer would be right out. Driving would definitely be out. Being blind, I would even need assistance to buy Ramen, much less cook it! Working would be pretty difficult too. So really, what can blind people do? We don't have wise blind prophets or seers like you read about in stories sometimes. In America today, a blind person could pretty much just listen to music and talk to people about the "good old days," back before their lives began to suck. They would write to the government and have the government pay them to sit around and wait to die because they can't really do much of anything else. I'm sure the people who have always loved them appreciate the extra time with them, but seriously, what kind of existence would that be?

I know, I know, that's awful of me. I'm sure they could listen to textbooks on tape and become super-geniuses and cure cancer and kill the human race because of overpopulation instead of terminal illnesses, right? Wow, I'm cynical all of a sudden. I'm sorry. Seriously, I guess everyone's just trying to eke out whatever existences they can the best way they know how. I don't know which is more sad: Someone who is a drug addict and spends their whole life high, dealing drugs and taking more, or someone who sits at home and does nothing all day every day, with no plan for the future other than avoiding work. Because it's generally agreed that the drug addict is living his life focusing on what's morally wrong... but at least he's enjoying life, whereas the person sitting at home and stagnating is just existing. Not really living.

I once knew a guy who was majoring in philosophy who said the way to know who someone truly is would be by seeing who they are when they wake up at two in the morning and haven't had time to put up the mask they show to the world. I don't think I agree with him on that point. I agree that all you see of most people is their mask, but I think that people pick the masks they make for a reason, so you can tell more about people from their masks than he suggests. Not everything, of course. I also don't think people are themselves at two in the morning, necessarily. I don't know when they are themselves, but I don't think it's when they've just woken up in the middle of the night. Of course, I suppose he's put more thought into it than I have. I think philosophy is a bit silly. Anyway, if he's right, then I guess now you know who I really am.

Dang nightmares.