I Dream of Black & White; They Dreamed in Radio

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Tonight we watched “Midnight In Paris”. The movie arrived via Netflix and I wasn’t expecting to really like it, particularly since it’s a Woody Allen film. Not that there’s anything wrong with his collection of work but people either really love or adamantly despise his movies. I think this was my first, and if they are all like this, I may be a fan.

I felt like I knew the main character, Gil, as if he and I were of the same mindset. He dreamed of another time, the golden age of Paris in the 1920’s. He felt the romanticism of history and like an old soul, felt a pull toward nostalgia. You know I feel that way; not about that particular period, but about feeling a connection to another time. It’s purely an unrealistic fascination because I don’t dream of the lack of vaccinations or the uninvented advancements that accompany the chores of today’s everyday life; but there is a sense of simplicity and an appreciation for things as they used to be. He is treated like he’s crazy for his dreamlike longing and I can relate to that with certain people. Maybe their souls aren’t quite as old or they just lack he part of our brain that wanders.

Gil literally takes a ride into his dream time period and mingles with the likes of Hemingway, Dali and Picasso. He experiences quick friendships with that era’s most prominent and important creative sorts. Along the way he meets a fascinating woman and as he falls for her, she reveals that she longs for the turn of the century, and how dull life is during her existence. He comes to understand that his longing is not new, but that romantics have always longed for what is gone and what will never be again. It is obvious and likely that this is the case, but for someone like me who dreams of days I will never experience in a realistic sense, it is slightly sad. Dreamers don’t accept reality fully, because what would we dream about? I don’t want to dream of paying my bills or mowing the lawn. I want to have fantasy because it ultimately doesn’t matter if I have the right vaccinations in my dreams, as long as I fill whatever void I have with stories and distant time periods.

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My Ipod Reads My Mind

Boy am I behind.

I spent the last two days pursuing a dream of mine, at least pursuing a possibility; that I could turn years of dreaming into a paying career opportunity.  So I have neglected my posting for a couple days. I have no idea what the future holds, but I do know that I’m looking for inspiration from every possible crevice in my life at the moment. And hope.

After working on the computer through the night, I took a shower alongside my trusty iPod speaker:

  1. To redirect my thought process, from undue worry to anything else
  2. To find inspiration on what to write about today
  3. Shower dancing – the only exercise I’m getting since I’m on the computer at work and then again when I get home

I realize my iPod is full of the music I handpicked, so I am likely to find things I like most of the time. I should be able to say “all the time”, but I have those random albums that I have on my iTunes that I don’t necessarily enjoy, I simply feel as though I should have them. Who am I trying to impress anyway? Will a Rolling Stone editor review my playlists one day and judge me for not having all of Bob Dylan’s albums?  No, and I only truly enjoy a handful of his songs, so I should just uncheck the rest of them, sync and move on.

Getting back on track, I took my shower and put the iPod on shuffle.  Songs jog all sorts of thought and I had hoped to find something to give my tired mind some mental peace.  What I found was countless songs that seemed to speak to my hopefulness.  It seemed every song was speaking to me about making a change or finding solace in knowing things were on an upswing.  I’m certainly not down in the dumps, but I’m at a point where things need to change and I need to utilize my talents.  It’s terrible to feel like life is being wasted, when I know I have so much more to offer and give.

I was kind of stunned that my Ipod was reading my mood.  I realize there are genius settings that select certain types of music and playlists, but it hasn’t been the first time that I found the sounds I needed without scrolling through.  Maybe I’m crazy.  Maybe I’m reading too deeply into one of my best friends, a hunk of metal that is the size of a deck of cards.  It doesn’t even remember my birthday, but it does supply me with hours of happiness.

And don’t worry; it’s really not my best friend.  But we are inseparable.