I had the strangest dreams last night. I dreamt that other colleges caught wind that I was going to Columbia University (which I am). So, I kept getting outlandish offers from the biggest colleges in America (even bigger than Columbia), like Princeton and Harvard. I decided to go on a tour of Harvard (which, let's face it, there's no possible way I'd ever be accepted to that school), so I went to Boston with just a couple of friends. They dropped me off at the "check-point", and it looked like that backlot by Bruce Willis's apartment building in Pulp Fiction, but there were rundown bleachers. There was no city-scape, just a couple of old buildings in the distance with a field of dead green grass between them and me. I waited ten or so minutes, but no one came. No one passed by, and the highway that my friends drove off on was completely empty. And I just stood there. Finally, I got it into my head that someone must be ready to shoot me from the treetops on the other side of the highway, so I jumped the chain-link fence in front of the field, and caught my legs in the barbed wire. After I painfully got untangled, I ripped a bit off my nice coat and bound up the wounds. I started limping through the field, between the back of the bleachers and the chain-link fence. As I ran, the bleachers got shorter, and the metal poles that held up the seats got closer to the fence, so I had to run through a very narrow path. All of a sudden, a very pleasant woman jumped out at me, and asked me if I was the student looking for the tour, and I said yes. She led me through the path that got narrower and shorter (and I'm very tall) until I was nearly walking on my knees. She kept speeding up, and I couldn't keep up with her, and all of a sudden, as soon as she disappeared from sight, everything ended, and I was in a white space, and I fell to the ground and felt my chest where I found a bullet hole. I had been shot the hole time, and never realised it. And then I woke up, with an unusual pain in my chest.
I haven't yet dissected the meaning, but I think it might have to do with: 1. Too many Quentin Tarantino movies and 2. To many Matt Damon movies. He went to Harvard, by the way (smarty-pants). Or maybe, despite the good Ivy League college I'm going to, I still feel inadequate, as though I'm not quite living up to my potential, and in the end that will be my hamartia, and I will have created my own sorry downfall. Which is something that's been bothering me, subconciously. I have a nasty feeling that I could be a lot smarter than I am, that I just refuse to work harder for better grades. And the grades I make are very good, but somehow I get the nagging suspicion that I'm denying myself a lot of priveleges in life by not achieving what God has set out for me to do. Maybe this is something all teens ask when their time nearly comes.
See, I went grocery shopping with my mum and brother and gammie today. I guess the dream had me so worked up, I forgot to eat not only breakfast, but lunch too. I just woke up and mindlessly watched whatever was on the Discovery Channel. And it didn't hit me until I was in front of food, but I had forgotten to eat. On top of that, my mum was afraid to pull into my gammie's bank parking lot (bad traffic flow). So I walked with her all the way there from a different parking lot and waited in the little lounge place while she stood in line. I started reading Wallstreet Weekly or something like that (I was actually reading, not skimming), and one of the bankers came up to me and asked, "Excuse me, mam, are you the client I was supposed to be talking to?" First off, this man was older than my dad, second off, I was wearing a pair of khaki shorts, a black tank-top, a necklace that my brother made when he was really young (it's actually a very nice necklace, very cute and surfer-y), and my hair was very tossled. I wasn't dressed like a "mam". So I replied, "I don't believe so, sir, as I'm only seventeen. I'm just waiting for my grandmother, she's in line for a teller." He looked very angry. At that point I wished I had lugged along my copy of this month's InStyle so I wouldn't look so adult. I hate going on airplanes and being offered alcohol, I hate getting "checked out" by men twice my age, I hate people thinking that a little kid walking next to me that I've never seen before in my life could be my son... I hate looking so mature. I don't act very mature... maybe that's to make up for the fact that I look so much the part.
But for a little humour, my mum says I'm very prissy. I never realised it too much, but I really am. When I was little, I'd purposefully jump in puddles, but now I'm very shoe-concious. Today in the grocery store, I was so scared that I had bee forgetting things, that I picked up my purse as I set the food items onto the little conveyor belt for my mum. I couldn't hold it very well in my hand and still put the heavy stuff up there, so I held up my arm and let it sit in my elbow joint and manuevered around the problem with my other arm. Mum said I looked like Joan Rivers or Hyacinth Bucket (from an old britcom). Then she told me how two older guys that looked like Tiger Woods stood staring at me, just transfixed with how I was managing that. *sigh* It's always me. I'm always a spectacle, I guess. People even stared at me when I was flipping through InStyle after picking it up off the rack. I just thought that the big fat picture of Johnny Depp, then the picture of a naked Eric McCormack (holding a conveniently placed newspaper), and then the disturbing picture of Elijah Wood were highly entertaining. I couldn't help but laugh. Look at today's headline! HAHAHA! Ah, you gotta love Will & Grace. Debra Messing's my favourite, she's so pretty.
Anyway, yep, that was my day. Freaky dream and all. I did eat a couple of cookies and a sandwich for dinner. So, I'm fed and happy. Normally I skip meals on purpose, like if I'm not feeling well. Or if I'm really grossed out. Or that one time that I was watching "Totally Obsessed" on VH1 one morning, and this woman was obsessed with gaining weight, and she modeled a bikini and everything at 300 pounds, and then it showed shots of her eating away merrily. I skipped breakfast that morning, too. Partly out of fear, partly out of disgust. Needless to say, it still takes the hunger right out of me. It's not a big deal, because I wake up around lunch-time anyway, and I certainly didn't skip that meal. Well, 9:30 isn't quite lunchtime, but my morning activities only consist of... sitting. Sometimes that's my entire day routine.
Oh! And to all fellow Republicans who love Hollywood as much as I (for none can top my adoration of it): there are celebrities that support George Bush. Marilyn Manson, Mandy Moore (that's it, she's no longer on my "un-cool" list, welcome to the cool side, Mandy!), Nick Lachey, Jessica Simpson, James Caviezel (alright!), Kelsey Grammer, Laura Flynn Boyle (well, she could stand to eat), Drew Carey, Sylvester Stallone, Tom Clancy, Adam Sandler, Bruce Willis, David Spade, John Malcovich, Alice Cooper, The Terminator, Steven Baldwin, AND (most importantly) Mel Gibson are all Republicans. So, still gonna side with Ben Affleck? Or are you going to side with Ben Stein, the man with money to match his wit? Well, I wouldn't trust anyone in Hollywood with a political decision, but I'm hyped on this list.
Oh, and the title is from Will and Grace. The newspaper guy. *giggle* That picture was in such bad taste, it still cracks me up!