Brains!

I had a dream that I had moved to New York. Megan Mack and I were roommates. It was always sunny, but I've lost all other memories from the dream. I don't even want to visit New York, not really. I know a lot of people probably think I'm crazy for saying that. But I don't really have any inclination or fascination with New York, or Paris, and I never had one for London. I just don't get turned on by massive populaces. It's not like I would turn down the chance to go, to visit, to be there...but they aren't at the top of my list. I don't know how to explain it, because I like San Francisco and Edinburgh generally, maybe that's the key wood generally and not passionately? I'm not doing very well explaining myself.

I hate dreams that include ex boyfriends. It's like romantic movies you liked the first time, when it was fresh, and new, and special. Then they start showing them as reruns on Oxygen, so as you're channel surfing you stop watch a scene, and then realize jeezes why am I watching this...I've seen it eleven times! It's like you can't escape them, it starts to become a nuisance, annoying and bland. They haunt you forever.

In the past couple weeks there have been at least three critical mass bike rides down my block. Each time someone has been loud reggae, not just some wimpy boom box loud, I mean blasting. Tonight it was Barrington Levy, one of my favorites. But why my street? Am I complaining? No. The 30 or so riders are just a small slice of what I miss most about the Boldt. I never did participate in one of those bike rides, but now that these folks have chosen my street to ride down, I feel blessed! It's like a piece of the home I can never return to. Actually now that I think about it, the main streets around my block, all have had speed bumps put in, perhaps the bicyclists are avoiding those.