Tag Archives: inspiration

Feb 10 2012
6 Comments
Humorous, Three minute read

The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of

I want a magical forest filled with unicorns

I’ve taken naps at night for as long as I can remember—really hearty ones that last anywhere from six to eight hours. I don’t know much about what goes on during these night naps, but apparently I just lie motionless. The doors to my auditory, olfactory, and oral sensory headquarters are shut and padlocked and my capabilities at controlling drool levels are severely reduced.

If that’s not weird enough, I don’t even remember most of what I do for these periods of time. I’m pretty sure I just lie still, but I could also get up and squirt cheese whizz at the dog. Who knows? I have no control over my body during these dark gaps in my consciousness. It’s quite terrifying.

After waking up from one of these naps, however, sometimes I can kind of remember stuff from the great beyond I just sailed through. Most of it is dark nothingness with wisps of things I’ll never quite remember. Sometimes I think of ham inexplicably. Yet on the rare occasion, I remember a dream and catch a glimpse into the journey my mind sneakily made behind my back.

Dreaming, to put it simply, is amazing. There are endless possibilities of a sleeping mind roaming through territories ungoverned by reality’s mundane laws. The dreams don’t even need to involve hardware or flooring materials. That’s the beauty of dreaming: it’s limitless and free.

This is why I regret almost every single dream I remember. My dreams, far from being fantastic, are disgustingly boring and feel more like a poorly written office memo. Invariably I’m doing the exact same things I do in real life except for sometimes it feels “weird.”  My brain, as a dream-maker, sucks big time. Why can’t it create cooler things for me? Why am I not soaring to a floating feast where I sit in a barrel of spaghetti while eating ribs with Conan O’Brien? Why can’t I zap period clothing into existence and have the sickest privately owned collection of bonnets? Why am I not in the trenches with my best talking animal friends while we defend ourselves against an evil giantess that looks like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz?

They always say something is “the stuff dreams are made of” like it’s a good thing, but this clearly doesn’t apply to all dreams. Mine seem to be made out of dust covered toilet paper rolls, empty ball point pens, generic brand Cheerios called something like Happy-Oh-Nos and the stuff people give away for free on Craig’s List.

I would rather not even remember my dreams if it only means being depressed at my pathetically low dreaming horizon. I mean, I would like to see results from the 6-8 hours a night I put into these naps. All I want to do is wake up and not want to drop acid in order to make my dream life more interesting. Is that too much to ask?

I guess what I’m trying to say is that not all dreams are made of the same stuff, so if you’re buying some you better give the label a good look.

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Sep 13 2011
1 Comment
Anecdotes, Two minute read

Bats: Just Hanging Around (It’s a Pun)

You can see his eye glowing. There’s a body too, I promise. 

I realize I’ve already written about the bats, but last time I could have been lying. I could have been spewing whatever crazy froth had floated to the top of my brain, just as I do when editing other peoples’ resumes, putting up job descriptions on Craig’s list, or applying for a place in the emergency room. But now I have proof of all my romantic waxings about bats, and my life, your life, and especially the bat’s life has changed.

It’s nothing unusual to see bats loitering around while I’m clacking away at the ol’ silver clickers (keyboard) on my increasingly dusty balcony in Mohansideen where it never gets completely dark. I’ve even named one of the bats Nigel, but it’s difficult to tell which one he is since they all look like soot colored flappy things against the grey nighttime sky.

I had already finished yelling at the moon (credit: 30 rock) and drowning in my endless sea of Arabic homework. And so there I was, getting my greedy fill of internet magic and thinking about the banality of life when the world changed. I see Nigel fly up near the tree next to my balcony, since bats can fly. This was nothing special. I was utterly unimpressed, disgusted even.

And then he latches onto a branch and HANGS UPSIDE DOWN ON THE BRANCH! UPSIDE DOWN! CRAZY! He hung for a good 3 minutes and I felt the whole world disappear as I stared at his freakish being suspended there in the vegetation. It was, to be quite frank, the most ethereal bat experience I’ve ever had. Here is a play by play of my thoughts throughout the encounter. Also, National Geographic is probably going to be contacting me pretty soon because of my breathtaking pictures, in which case I’ll have to buy sunglasses and leave this lame blog behind.

12:45 am: No new facebook notifications. My life is worthless. Why did I even have wireless internet installed? Why did I go through that hassle only to reach the unavoidable conclusion that my online life is as mundane as my carbon-based one?

12:46 am: There’s Nigel…he’s looking fit tonight. Why is my eye twitching?

12:47 am:  What a second..what the..OH MY GOD! HE’S HANGING UPSIDE DOWN ON THE TREE! I’M SITTING HERE LOOKING AT HIM AND HE’S HANGING UPSIDE DOWN JUST LIKE THAT BAT DID FROM ANASTASIA! THEY ACTUALLY DO HANG UPSIDE DOWN!

12:48 am: HE’S STILL THERE! MUST GET CAMERA!

12:49 am: (enthusiasm wearing off) Oh good! He’s still there! If I could only see his dark leaf-shaped body against the background of the actual dark leaves….this picture is not going to be great. (checks camera) Nope, not great. What did I expect anyways?  This must be what average people feel like. (too much?)

12:58 am: Why was I impressed by seeing a bat hang upside down in the first place? I need to get more sleep.

1:00 am: You know what, it was really cool to see Nigel hang upside down. It was freakin’ AWESOME! But seriously, why is my eye twitching?

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Sep 07 2011
2 Comments
Fiction, Lists, Three minute read

So You Want to Take a Nap in the Student Lounge

This could be you, minus the shoes

You stayed up late last night even though it was a school night. All signs point to an extreme deficit of z-power: your body has forgotten how to digest food, speech is difficult, and you feel like you’ve drunk unicorn blood and are only half-alive. At school, all you can think about is how close to death you feel even as the end of class seems so far away. Despite your best efforts, it appears that no amount of doodling will save you from dozing off in class in front of your less sleepy colleagues.

Fear not. You have a 45 minute break coming up right at 12:00, and you know exactly what you must do. It’s time to get your student-lounge nap on. A nap in the student lounge is a great way to wrinkle your shirt and put creases on your face while also being refreshed by much needed REM sleep. Here ‘s some advice about how you can make your student lounge nap a positive experience for yourself and those around you.

a. Remember that you will be stared at. With this in mind, try to sleep in a funny position in order to further the laughter that will be had at your expense. If going with the flow doesn’t appeal to you, you could put a bag over your face or write a polite note that says “I can see you too.” Generally people like concise, terse notes.

b. Be as suspicious as possible about your nap. Though you are not ashamed of the fact you are napping in a public location, do not mention it to anyone and lie if anyone asks you what you’re doing. Disguise your nap by setting up a magazine, book, or scroll in such a position that you could be reading it. This step is especially helpful for fooling people from behind.

c. Take your shoes off. If you’re comfortable, everyone else is comfortable. People love nothing more than seeing bare feet on public furniture.

d. Set an alarm. If you’re really serious about napping, this is a step that can’t be missed. The alternative is either sleeping through class, or waking up to an acquaintance poking you as you hurry to brush the drool off your face before getting up groggily and then going to class where you say wildly inappropriate things because of your sleepy stupor.

e. Don’t forget that it’s okay to drool, snore, twitch, babble, sleep stalk, and sleep steal. Do everything you would normally do at home or in the doctor’s office. Your colleagues should accept you for who you are, especially in the human state that most closely resembles death.

f. If you have dreams, tell everyone about them. Dreams are great conversation starters, and they will be especially interesting for people who were not necessarily in your dream, but in the same room as you while you were dreaming.

g. Last but not least: have fun! Make this naptime yours! Personalize it! Bring a little nap kit next time or tiny commemorative pillows for everyone who was there! If you don’t get it right the first time, don’t worry! There is no doubt you will be foolish enough to stay up to the wee hours of the morning for no good reason on a school night again.

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Sep 05 2011
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Three minute read

Batty About You

Come for dinner and we’ll wipe the table off for you. Probably.

We have quite the impressive balcony in our new apartment. I don’t mean to toot my landlady’s horn, but it is, quite literally, the greatest thing that has ever existed. Despite the thick layer of dust and an occasional poopy smell, this balcony is one of the most pleasant places I have taken my Nescafe, and I am glad to be here.

A live tree hangs over the balcony, making half of the right side look as if it were in a forest. (Just to clarify, we are not in a forest. We are in the opposite of a forest: Cairo, where trees come to be coated in dust and then wither despite the abundance of carbon dioxide ). This tree is a preferred swooping location of our local bat population.

The thought of bats might sound unpleasant, like when you get an email from a guest you accidentally locked out on the balcony notifying you that she stole your delicates and won’t give them back until you replace the pair of designer jeans she tore while climbing down from the fifth floor. I myself used to think that bats were grotesque creatures, especially because their wings look like desiccated hands. They are also mammals that fly, which is just wrong.  Though they had never done anything to hurt me, childhood movies and Halloween taught me to fear them as creatures both of darkness and evil intent, only one of which they deserve.

But then, on accident, I learned something. Bats eat insects, including mosquitoes. This was a game changer. Were I given a thousand marble tablets, nine hundred and ninety nine assistants, three thousand years, a box of potato chips, and an endless supply of gummy bears and chisels, I would still not be able to carve out the depths of my loathing for mosquitoes. The bat, my former de-facto foe, became my friend since it feasts on the beings I despise.

Why should we hate the bats anyways? Is it because they are like us, preferring to stay up at night and swoop around in seemingly haphazard oblong shapes? Why should the dove be associated with love, when they are good for nothing more than statue-defecation and vegetation-carrying? Who cares if they’re monogamous? Aren’t bats the true romantic animal, staying up late, sacrificing the sunlight in order to eat disgusting creatures that would otherwise suck my blood? That’s all I’ve ever sought in a man.

I finally understand that bats are simple creatures, loving darkness, mosquito eating, and screeching, activities that I occasionally indulge in myself. Now when I see him/her/them swooping around outside the tree, I smile to myself as I imagine the thousands of insects they have crushed in the grips of their weird mouths. I no longer look on the bat as any less than human. They are my guardians in a world full of things with more than four legs, and what they do is more noble than creepy. I’m taking this opportunity to announce a new line of greeting cards, chocolates, and bedding based on the concept of bats as the true symbol of romance. If you are a hands-off, fun-driven investor, please email me at battyaboutyou@hotmail.com.

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