That’s a photo I took today by Normandale Lake just a couple of minutes away from where I live. Yes, I assure you it was taken today, January 28th. We really have been having that warm of a winter. I’m not even sure if we’re supposed to call it winter anymore. Today it actually rained.

But I’m not complaining. Today it was in the 40s and so I did a little wandering around and shot a few photos. I posted a few of those photos on the Photo Blog so check those out. I went over and walked around Normandale Lake, and then drove downtown to see if anything was new at the Minneapolis sculpture garden. Nothing was, but it was nice to revisit it anyway.

See-ya later.

I’ve probably said this a few dozen times before - but I really hate my daily commute. Today there was a car stalled on the shoulder with a guy behind it waving for help. The car in front of me decided to stop, which was nice of them, but instead of pulling onto the shoulder, he stopped right in the lane of traffic and got out of his car. Yes, he left it there, blocking everyone behind him.

Meanwhile, I was stuck there behind him as everyone was speeding around me. So I gave a nice little tap on the horn, raised up my hands to show my frustration, and they both dismissed me with their little glares of contempt. Apparently he has no clue that the freeway - with a minimum speed limit of 40 - is not a parking place. Now I understand why they spend so much money in this city on widening the shoulders rather than building more lanes.

The freeways in Minneapolis/St Paul are a mess. Tons of money goes into 394 because that’s the route all the important people take, but the rest of the roads are about 40 years behind Minneapolis’s growth spurt.

As much as I truly hate my daily commute, I don’t miss working downtown so much. Like any inner city, you have to deal with the annoying parking issues and expenses, and then of course the lovely panhandlers. If you zip in and out of downtown with reserved ramp parking, it’s probably not so bad. But when you walk around a lot, you find yourself running into some beggars from time to time. It’s the main reason I stopped carrying cash and change, because I’d always give them a little money so they’d leave me alone. My theory was that if I didn’t have any money to give, I wouldn’t give it. And I’m fairly confident 98.5% of those panhandling on the downtown sidewalks aren’t using their earnings for constructive purposes, so as far as I’m concerned they had no business taking any money from me. I don’t have much to give anyway.

Once while living in South Minneapolis during the early days of college, I was getting into my car to go to a class and a homeless guy came up and started jiggling the passenger side door handle as if he was going to get in. I never sped away so fast in my life. Was driving a 5-speed at the time, and I never realized I could shift like that. It took about ten blocks for my knees to stop shaking.

Sometimes they’ll try to butter you up, and they’ll strike up a lengthy conversation with you. Apparently this must make people feel more required to pay up as you feel like you’ve wasted their time otherwise. Even if it means walking along with you for 3-4 blocks, they’re persistent and will talk your ear off like a salesman.

One time I got into a fairly interesting conversation with a younger homeless fellow while walking to a class. He was talking about how long he’s been living on the streets and how hard it can be to stay warm. Somewhere out of the blue I asked the question “Why are you on the streets?” Immediately after asking it I realized I probably didn’t actually want to know the answer, as it might reveal just exactly what kind of person I’m consorting with. But obviously I was interested. One can probably come up with a few guesses why a person would be living on the streets, but you really shouldn’t jump to conclusions - even with homeless folks. You never know, the circumstances could be tragic and out of their control.

But this fellow’s answer boiled down to this: “Because my parents don’t understand me.” Hmm, seemed like a pretty deep answer, so my curiosity compelled me to dig a little deeper and I asked “What don’t they understand about you?” And he answered, “They don’t understand that I want to be on the streets.” Didn’t really answer my question, so I took it as an ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ or a ‘you don’t want to know.’

But then I thought about it for a while and perhaps he really did mean ‘I want to be on the streets’ in the literal sense. He’s on the streets, begging for money, homeless, and freezing in Minnesota’s subzero winter temperatures, and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be? I don’t really buy it, but I suppose this could be one of the many things in this world that I couldn’t ever understand.

It’s hard to imagine what could be wrong with going home to your loved ones in a nice, warm, quiet, and comfortable home of your own every day. But then I start thinking of my old friend who used to have to shovel decapitated cow heads into a furnace at a slaughterhouse 12 hours a day for $6 an hour. There can’t be many jobs worse than that, and if that were my only option I’d probably be begging for quarters on the streets as well.

I had an interesting dream this morning, the kind that sticks in your mind throughout the day. I dreamed that, for reasons left unexplained, my hometown was flooded and completely destroyed. All the houses and buildings were covered by thirty feet of water. Once the water settled, we went through the houses recovering everything that was worth saving.

Along the way, I found artifacts of my early childhood. The old things I found brought back memories of my early childhood that I didn’t even know I had. In particular, there was a book that I thought held some kind of documentation of my childhood. I opened it, and the smell of it overwhelmed me. The smell alone brought memories pouring back.

Then someone took it from me, I asked for it back, and they refused. That’s when I started chasing them on foot. There seems to be a lot of chasing like this in my dreams lately. Usually when I’ll chase someone in these dreams, which was the case in this dream, I’ll see familiar faces along the way. Faces I never see anymore, even faces I’ll never see again.

I can see how I’ve been doing a lot of chasing and stumbling in my life lately, so this dream really struck me. But I usually have dreams that seem like they are supposed to mean something, like it’s something coming up in my mind that I couldn’t have thought up on my own, but actually I did. It’s interesting.

I don’t know why I felt compelled to post this dream here, because it’s unlikely that the sensations and visions of the dream translated to the page. I’m sure it came off as some kind of half-assed surrealism, that made little or no sense to anyone. In any case, since when does what I write make any sense?

See ya later.

Sometimes I really struggle to understand myself. I bet that might strike you as an odd thing for me to say right off the bat. Let me explain: Often times I find myself in a rut. I’ll have a list of things that I need to do, but I can’t seem to do them. It’s not like I’m not in the mood, it’s that I just can’t do it. I’m not talking about something I’m not capable of, I just find myself unable to do it at that given time and place.

Example: Say I’m pitching a creative idea to someone. The person I’m pitching to responds to my initial pitch in a way that is positive, but they make it fairly clear that they weren’t convinced. So now I need to explain myself better, but I’m stuck. My idea was perfect, I just couldn’t explain it. It’s my idea, I should be able to sell it, shouldn’t I?

But I just can’t do it. I could have sat there and worked on how to pitch the idea for an hour which seems like an eternity by my usual standards, but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even draw it out. The words and images were in my mind, they just wouldn’t leave my mind in the form of communicating it to someone else. Even this attempt to describe my problem is a colossal failure, I’m sure.

It’s as if my IQ suddenly dropped by 50 points, and all I had left is the memory of what was lost.

Part of me says that sitting here around struggling with it isn’t going to help anybody. Part of me says that if I need to take a break from it for an hour or two, or even overnight, and revisit the project later, that that’s okay. My deadline isn’t anywhere near that tight, it’s no problem.

But at the same time, on top of all the pressure I put on myself every time I think about the contents of my checking account or the massive vacuums that have sucked those contents out, I can’t help feeling that this is just another in my long list of personal failures. If I say that I don’t know what to do and I stop trying, I’m a loser. Period, end of discussion. So I sit there and struggle and try to spit it out, but it all comes out dead wrong.

I have the same problem in basic conversation. There are times I can be talking about a subject with someone and my point will flow out flawlessly. Other times, the same discussion can be occurring right in front of me and I have all the answers on the tip of my tongue, but I just stand there and say nothing. No matter how much I want to say something, I stay silent, the words just aren’t there.

This has held me back from a lot of things in my life, I don’t know how much longer I can go watching all of the opportunities to be myself and reach my full potential fade away.

Nevermind me, sometimes I write for people to read, and sometimes I write just because I need to get something off my chest. This was one of those times. Have a good day, hope your New Years was a blast.

Today I feel like repeating myself, but I won’t since I’ve already said it. Just go back and see this post again to understand exactly what kind of day today was. You know, I’m a very neutral person. I don’t pick sides, I’m never out to get anyone, I do my best and try to get along with everyone I can. But for some reason people form these vendettas that make absolutely no sense. I’m cursed as a very self-conscious and insecure person, so I do take things a little personally, I admit that. But seriously, being an adult is just as rediculous as being a child was sometimes. Do you ever feel that way?

Yeah, it was one of those Mondays. Very busy day, had some fires to put out. And at the end of the day all I get is some pety office politician trying to make my life even more miserable. A co-worker had some inspiring words, though. He vents to me when he’s having his trouble with office politicians, and so I felt it would be okay to vent to him. Not surprisingly, he had the right advice, better advice than I can usually offer him. He told me to go home and just look around at what I’m even going to work for. Realize that work doesn’t really matter that much, what’s at home is what matters. Unfortunately Lizzie wasn’t home when I got here, but the thought still helped. He’s right, I should just leave my aggravations from work there. Because I’m just there to make money all for the ultimate goal of having a nice, stable, safe home. I don’t live at work. I live at home, that’s what matters most.

Maybe that doesn’t make sense, but it makes sense in my head. Yeah, I’m the kind of person who takes his work very seriously and I live and breathe what I do for a living, but ultimately I just have to stand up and scream “I don’t care!” to maintain my sanity.

Man, I can’t wait to go home for Thanksgiving. A four day weekend up north sounds great right now.

Well, It’s supposed to snow tonight. I guess that means I need to get up about an hour early tomorrow. First snowfall in this place is always a huge event, everyone forgets how to drive. Wish me luck.

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