quickie updates

I don't know why I call these posts quickie updates because they neither land up being quick nor updates. Discuss amongst yourselves.

The summer is progressing along nicely, and like a low-IQ student on their 4th year of Grade 10 it has been almost-passable but as of yet entirely unexceptional. Golf has made an upswing on my list of priorities, and all bad puns aside, was something I was really enjoying until a wrist industry halted my run of playing every weekend. I hate to think it is my bad posture as I type these crazy posts that is denying me some time on the links, so instead I blame it on the other scourge of my existence - literally and figuratively...age.

Saw Batman, without a doubt the best movie of the summer so far, which in and of itself is not much of an honour. I lapped up the delightfully cynical view of the world with gusto partly because it mirrors my views on those dark, stormy nights when I peer out of the window into the windswept streaming rain and feel vibrantly alive, as if each flicker and flash of lightning awakens every neuron in my body. It's the quietest adrenaline rush in the world.

It is a pity to think we have to wait at least another 4 years for the following and probably final part of the series.

I also saw "Wanted" which, besides a quick glimpse of Jolie's rather perfectly sculpted movie-star buttocks, left me, well...wanting. A rental for sure.

Well, that might have been quick but it certainly wasn't an update, so my record of ill-titled titles lives on. Hope all is well with you.

Sincerely,
Marto

dream a little nightmare sweetheart....

So here goes. There is one regularly occurring dream/nightmare that never fails to wake me up stressed out and mildly upset. When I say regularly occurring I mean every few months. I don't know why I am writing this down. Perhaps someone out there with Freudian powers of dream-analysis can tell me what this means. It seems fairly obvious to me but then again, people can ascribe meaning to anything these days, even grainy tea-leave residue on the bottom of your cup. Do dreams really mean anything anyways, or is that a legend dreamed up by psychoanalysts with illusions of grandeur? As it is late, I will divide this into 2 parts.

Let me preface this dream by saying I have been out of university for over 7 years:

I wake up and look at the alarm clock and realize suddenly I am late for an exam. Seriously late as in a possibility I will MISS the exam (I was never ever late for anything school-related.) Panicked I rush to the university (where I did my undergrad) and though I recognize some key landmarks, I am on the edge. Sweating and breathing hard I rush towards the hall where I believe the exam is taking place (that I am not certain which hall is another reason for panic as this is a fact I would check 10 times ordinarily). As I am running, I come to the realization that I have not studied AT all for this exam (from my memory it was finance or math related). I realize I have missed most of the classes (I hardly EVER missed a class, wouldn't even entertain the thought) and am severely under-prepared and will probably fail miserably. I rush around the campus not sure of where I am going, what material I was supposed to have studied, and am on the verge of breaking down. My mind runs through some mathematical formulas and I realize I don't have a clue what they mean. I finally find the hall I thought the exam was going to be in, only to be told it is the wrong hall and the exam is taking place at another site on campus. I turn around and rush out of the hall. End of part 1.

Now the strange part is during the dream my logical mind would interrupt for a second and say "hang on buddy, you're out of university, you've been out for 7 years, this can't be real, this is a dream you clown, now wake the fuck up". However this would be brushed aside and the nightmare would continue. Thoughts? Part 2 to come if I can remember it this week.

on eating.

Since I moved out of my parent's house, I have come to realize that my expectations with regards to dinner have decreased somewhat dramatically. About a year ago, upon arriving home I would inspect the hot dinner waiting for me with a practiced eye, never once imagining the effort it took to prepare said meal. My mind would wander to the meals of the last week, and if the said meal was similar in any way, shape or form I would make my distaste known:

"Chicken again? Jesus I am sick of chicken."
"Red meat? You know eating this more than twice a week will kill you."
"Soup? Christ it's 30C outside. I'm going to sweat to death."

Blasphemy and contemplation of mortal ends aside, I never realized how ungrateful I was until I started cooking for myself. My standards have dropped precipitously. On the odd occasion that I do cook (probably every 2nd or 3rd day), my options become severely limited to the few dishes I am confident in making. Grilled chicken. Broiled salmon. Chicken stir fry. Diced potatoes. Salads. Hamburgers. Omelets. I might make something on Monday night and continue to eat it in various guises for the rest of the week. I.e grilled chicken on Monday night becomes stir fry on Tuesday and chicken Caesar salad on Wednesday. Ah the creative mind of the single male.

Before I used to judge my mom's cooking on taste and originality; now if I haven't collapsed dead 10 minutes after eating one of my concoctions I consider my meal a complete and resounding success. Should it have even a modicum of taste I will beam ear to ear, triumphant in my mastery of food.

Recipes anyone?

on age

I realized a few days ago, when I woke up to find I had pulled a hamstring during my sleep, that aging sucks. The following reasons illustrate my point:

Your body is no longer Wolverine-like in its ability to heal itself. I've started watching how quickly I bend down to ensure I don't tweak something. Ridiculous.
It becomes way too easy to develop a beer belly. Seriously, one day's break from the treadmill and I start to look like Dom DeLuise.
Your hairline finally starts to beat your forehead in its decade old fight for supremacy (ok, well for me that fight was lost long ago).
You start worrying about calorie listings on cereal boxes.
Watching cartoons becomes uncool.
Your friends start getting married and would rather converse about diaper brands than more important things like football.

Some of this is obviously tongue-in-cheek, but is based in truth. Aging is not pleasant. They say you get older and wiser. That may be the case, but I'd rather remain young and oblivious.