Painful Dreams

Keeping a dream log might be useful to me some day. Perhaps when I've been institutionalized and a clinical psychologist needs to go back to my history in order to diagnose a problem that I'm fairly certain is present somewhere deep within the gray stuff sitting in the anatomical attic. A couple of months go, I had posted here an account of some peculiar dreams I've had. The weird dreams have returned recently, and I still have no idea what to make of them.

One started with me picking at some sharp objects stuck inside my mouth. I slowly came to realize that there were small pine needles stuck inside the flesh of my mouth. While removing them one by one, I felt the pain that strangely felt real, complete with the sensation of an embedded object being pulled out. There was one last needle to remove, and as I started pulling it, the needle became a flat, wide object that was like a thick tape. As I continued to pull, the tape gradually became a thicker rubber-like material shaped like a thin hose, and then I slowly became aware that the thin hose was my esophagus. The awareness started choking me, and I woke up in a frenzy.

The second dream was equally strange, which started with me noticing that there was something stuck inside my hand. There was a small slit where I could slip my fingers through. As I dug in, I felt around to see what was bothering me. When I got hold of the object, I started pulling slowly to minimize the pain and the blood. What came out strangely looked like a coffee stirrer from McDonald's (white plastic wand, with a flat tab at the end). It's a bizarre object to see in a dream, since I can't remember the last time I went to a McDonald's, and I don't normally drink coffee.

How I have not become an insomniac is beyond me. Despite these dreams, I still like my sleep, and the dreams are completely weird, but they make me laugh. As long as I can laugh about my supposed craziness, I don't need to seek help, right? Right. I love how my cultural background has instilled in me a deep sense of denial so that I can compartmentalize my feelings and bypass emotional distress.

Dodgeball and the Human Experience

A coworker invited me to join her for some dodgeball tournament in Silver Lake today, and we were triumphant. In being the #1 losers. When the announcer named the least-scoring team, the Sexy Panthers, we screamed loud enough for people outside the auditorium to hear. In fact, not even the highest-scoring team sounded quite so jubilant as we did for losing.

Being #1 at sucking aside, dodgeball made me think about the kind of dodging that I normally do at work. Dodging meetings that I do not want to attend, dodging the blame if something goes awry, or even dodging a project that I don't really want to work on. Of all the figurative deflecting, leaps, and bounds that I've been doing lately, the foremost would be to become the target of a layoff.

Just this past week, my employer had let go a few dozen people in what the B-school grads love to call "right-sizing." That is another term for cleaning house, chopping heads, eliminations, and polite firings. But calling it "reduction in force" sounds so much less personal. But the fact of the matter is that people do take layoffs personally. People's identities are shaken, their daily being's justification comes into doubt, and they become uncertain about how to carry on. All of this while they're filling out the unemployment forms.

The most recent round of layoffs were not quite so lethal personally, since nobody in my group got the pink slip. It's almost like I was standing behind the human shield and the first ball to be thrown in the court were being aimed directly at them and not me. But now that the shield is no longer present, I'm beginning to wonder if I will actually need to do more active dodging when the balls come flying in my direction.

Over dinner this evening, my strangely omniscient and calm housemate had said that even if I do get laid off, it doesn't mean anything. While I do feel as though he is in an income bracket that allows him to think so nonchalantly, I pondered if he actually had a point. And I have a slight suspicion he might. Fear is mostly based on uncertainty and our inability to understand something. I do not understand why I need to be laid off, given that I don't think I'm a slacker and I feel like I contribute my share (despite the aforementioned dodging at work). But layoffs, like a lot of decisions or events that we have no control over, do not necessarily make sense to the person who just received the boot.

But people live their lives with quite a lot of things that do not make sense. Many people call this faith. If evolution (or creation), the existence of mankind, human emotions, love, and the presence of a superior being cannot be explained logically, and we're all capable of living and breathing despite of it, I think I can survive a fucking pink slip. Maybe I need to have faith in the sense that I can carry forth despite being laid off, and it will open up new opportunities. Granted, I reserve the full right to cuss as much as I want and perhaps even break a few things after being laid off.

Once those initial human emotions are sufficiently expressed, I will probably go on to what I hope will be something else. I won't count on the next thing to be bigger and better, but it'll merely be something else. At least I can count on that. The rest, as my housemate says, doesn't matter. Just like how it didn't matter that the Sexy Panthers were the #1 losers. What really matters is that I will be entertained along the way, and can laugh about some of it. Even if it comes at my own expense.

Oh look ponies! Wait, it's the 4 Horsemen!

2009 is starting up as though it is the coming out party for the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. We might have a new President that gives us hope, but the economic situation is nonetheless bleak. Perhaps it is particularly being felt tonight because there is a company meeting tomorrow with our Managing Director, which might shed light on the state of our business and where things are heading. Judging by how the industry is going, I don't have high confidence.

But it's easy to be a Debby Downer. Despite the bitterness and cynicism I typically show, there are things that I am thankful for. I still have a paycheck and a place to call home away from home. And speaking of homes, at least I don't own real estate in this shithole called Hell-A. Bless the Little Baby J. And one more thing to be thankful about: at least I'm not in a living situation I can't get out of.

More often than not these days, couples that have decided to end things cannot leave their living arrangements. Whether they own a place together that they cannot sell, or rent a place that neither can afford alone, the business of breaking up is made messier than usual. And I have been a witness to the phenomenon, when I met a guy recently who said he still lives with his ex. I resorted to the obligatory "Oh, interesting" response, and I don't know why it prompted him to go into further details. I really should stop feigning interest when I really am not interested. The only thing that tops "living with parents" is "living with an ex."

I already have a problem with commitment, so it goes without saying that I have an even bigger problem with the process of de-commitment. These days, a sound exit strategy should be drafted up before entering into a relationship. Parachuting solo sounds so much better than being weighed down by additional payload. Maybe there is one more thing I should be thankful of: being single.

Moments in GranoLAland, 2008

Counting up the number of months spent here in LA gradually became one full year, and all in a flash (not unlike the red light camera flash I saw today), it has been two and a half years already since I came to introduce a little Granola-ness to this wretched urban wasteland.

As the year is rapidly dwindling to the last few hours, I must do a review of the year, even if it is just for my own purpose of remembering. Because in a few hours, this will all be a champagne-induced blur, ending up in me tragically going to bed alone in this episode of Sexless in the City. So here we go, in a very entropic order.

Best thing that happened at work: I'm no longer a junior analyst, but now an analyst. But even more importantly, this is the first promotion I have received since I graduated from college. Without going into details that might jeopardize my employment, I just have to say that options need to be weighed pretty carefully. In the end, it was the right choice. Now all I'm hoping is that the automotive industry won't complete fall through the bottom.

Best Trip of the Year: Hands down, Japan. Food was the highlight of the trip, not to mention the sights that I haven't seen in over 10 years. My next trip there will probably follow much sooner. I discovered what I had already known, that I am more Japanese American than Japanese. There used to be times when I thought I was the latter, but over the years, I've lost the traditional, conservative personality, and well, you know the rest. The remaining picture has been posted here.

Funniest Moment of the Year: Ending up in a Bear Party with friends, all of whom came to be known collectively as the "Seven Skinny Bitches." Apparently I was so lit that I wasn't even aware of half the things that were happening.

Angriest Moment of the Year: After I got hit in my car in San Gabriel, less than 6 months after I got my car. The idiot was a stereotypical mid-20's Asian girl from SGV, complete with glittery eye shadow and fake designer bag. I was so angry, my friend Jane later told me she was more afraid of me than being hit by the car. The F-bomb was dropped several dozen times. Next time, I will try to exercise a little more moderation.

Embarrassing Moment of the Year: Opening the women's door bathroom accidentally at work. This was part of the building I never find myself in, and I was in a daze that day. The male and female signs looked oddly similar to one another, and when I opened one, I quickly realized it was the wrong door.

Achievement of the Year: Sort of learning how to do the "Single Ladies" dance. Christmas Party for work was SO much more enjoyable knowing how to do this dance. While there has been many people who has tried to do this dance on the Interwebs, Shane Mercado gets my nod for being one of the first.


There you have it, people. See you in 2009.

Closeted optimism

The presidential election doesn't seem to get me down quite as much as the drama surrounding Proposition 8. The fight has been fought before, and this Prop. 8 is just a battle in an ongoing war. No matter the outcome of this particular battle, there will be other hurdles waiting to take its place for the next election / legislature. The current state of things have only demonstrated that there are still many who oppose equal rights for the sexual minority. Major religious institutions have come up with quite a coordinated campaign to openly discriminate and cast gays and lesbians as second-class citizens who do not deserve the same rights as a heterosexual couple. This is where separation of church and state must be enforced, because bigotry and hypocrisy should not exist in politics any more than it does already. Mainstream religion has failed in demonstrating their teachings that God is love, and instead have created an environment where there is hatred and animosity. I'm not a believer anymore in God or the teachings of the Bible, but those who are should remember that every story has more than one side to it. All too often, Christianity focuses on what's convenient to them.

Consider Sodom and Gomorrah, for example. Wikipedia notes that the Biblical cities were destroyed by God because of its citizens' "sexual deviations", even lending meaning to the word "sodomy". Many consider homosexuality as part of this term. Curiously, the Jewish teachings do not blame homosexuality as much as the citizens' cruelty and lack of hospitality to the "stranger." There are parallels to what we're seeing in the electorate, where there is cruelty against those who are not cut out from the same mold as the majority. Perhaps mainstream Christianity has it all wrong, and maybe God didn't frown upon Sodom and Gomorrrah for its percevied "sexual deviations," but perhaps more to do with the way it has treated the minority. If that were the case, then the Knights of Columbia and the Mormon Church should be put to shame.

If Proposition 8 moves forward, it has the potential to reopen the wounds of many people who struggled for acceptance, and deepen the wound of many more who are questioning their sexuality. The optimist in me says that even if Prop. 8 gets approved, the gay community is resilient and determined enough to keep moving forward to push for equal rights. However, the realist in me sees a major setback for many gay and lesbian couples if this proposition comes to fruition.

No more hate.

Domestic Blowout

I was taking a shower this evening, minding my business in the bathroom with the window slightly cracked to let the cool fall air in. As I got out of the shower, I heard a girl yelling at the top of her lungs to who I assumed was her significant other. While I tried to eavesdrop as much as I can, her fury was making her speech go at thousand miles per minute. Whatever her grievances, it was quite apparent that she was P-I-S-S-E-D. I can only imagine what could've set her off like that, but I'm assuming that it is probably as bad as infidelity.

Not to bring race into the scenario, but both person in this fight were of the same ethnicity, and their fighting style kind of fit with the stereotypes. I actually admire their style, and I might even try to emulate it when I'm completely ticked off. The couple that was fighting tonight could've auditioned for Jerry Springer, and would've probably been able to put on a decent show.

I've heard that healthy relationships have rough spots, and it is natural for people to blow up at each other to let out the valve. If that was the case, the relationship this couple has must be pretty damn healthy, because she let that valve out full force. Maybe this is what I have to look forward to in my serious relationship? If that's the case, I'll enjoy my single life for as much as I can. Quiet and boring as it may be, the solitude can be a good thing.

Dreams are *not* made of these

This week's "This American Life" reminded me of two dreams that I had a few months ago. I normally do not remember dreams for longer than a week, but these were not ordinary dreams. What freaked me out even more was that they occurred in succession of one another.

While I do not recall what I was doing in my dream, I seemed to have suddenly come to an awareness that there was a black cat standing at my leg. This is not out of the norm, as a black cat just like the one in my dream visits the house every day for food (an opportunistic bastard, if you ask me, but that's for another blog post). However, in my dream, the black cat latched on to my leg with its claws, which made me swat at it to get the damn thing off my leg. Much to my detriment, this made the cat more agitated and it started EATING me. As in, chew a piece of flesh from my thigh, and go in for another chew because the first one was apparently so delicious. At this point, I panicked so much that it launched me out of sleep. Heavy breathing, eyes wide open, and ready to go look for that black cat and have a little teriyaki sauce with it.

As if that dream alone was not enough to make me paranoid for a few days, I had another dream the following night.

Again, I do not recall the details preceding the part where I do remember so vividly. All I know is that I noticed a spiral-shaped pattern on my finger underneath the skin. I tried to pick at it, but seeing that it was embedded in my flesh, I had to dig to the point where my finger started bleeding. Odd thing was, I felt the pain in my dream as I could in reality. Then the spiral-shaped object started to heat up like a metal filament in a light bulb. As it got hotter and the filament glowed red, my flesh started burning and by this time, I was in full alarm that it woke me up.

After these dreams, I had a strange suspicion that something was not quite right in my head. Here are the interpretations I found online regarding some of the elements that were observed in my dreams:

Pain
To dream that you are in pain, signifies that you are being too hard on yourself with regards to a situation that was out of your control. It may also be a true reflection of real pain that exists somewhere in your body. Dreams can reveal and warn about health problems.

To dream that you are inflicting pain to yourself, indicates that you are experiencing some overwhelming turmoil or problems in your waking life. You are trying to disconnect yourself from your reality by concentrating on the pain that you inflicted to yourself.


Cat
To see a cat in your dream, signifies much misfortune, treachery, and bad luck. If the cat is aggressive, then it suggests that you are having problems with the feminine aspect of yourself. If a cat is biting you, then it symbolizes the devouring female. Perhaps you are taking and taking without giving. You may be expressing some fear or frustration especially when something is not going as planned.


Blood
To see blood in your dream, represents life, love, and passion as well as disappointments. To dream that you are bleeding or losing blood, signifies that you are suffering from exhaustion or that you are feeling emotionally drained. It may also denote bitter confrontations between you and your friends. Your past actions has come back to haunt you.

None of the information above settled my nerves about the dreams. Perhaps it is better left up to a medical professional to sort out what's going on. Though not quite as traumatic as the dreams I mentioned above, I did have yet another disturbing dream recently. During my disturbed sleep cycle last night, I dreamt that I was observing a female orgy. To a straight man, this might've turned to be a wet dream, but for a gay man, it might as well have been a nightmare.

Please just give me a hit of Ambien or Lunesta.