More dreams

We were at a house, long used and recently abandoned by friends/relatives. A group of us were there, headed up my current boss's boss. It was afternoon, I had places to be that evening/the next day.
Somehow the call was made to clear out the house, prep it for sale/rental etc. I protested that there wasn't enough time in the day to get it done but the bigboss went through with it anyway
cut to: scenes of a group of people trying to clear out a desperately full house. All I remember was there was a portable vinyl record player so we had old music to listen to in part of the house while we worked.
Sub-plot arises: Somehow or other the city/country we live in has come under attack by it's nearest neighbor. Sending troops down one town at a time, through planned roads and intersections There has been noted that a covert survey team of foreigners has been spotted, scouting the roads the day before each assault. Rumor has spread a description of this scouting team, and they appear to go un-contested about their business (don't ask me, it's a dream).
As the clamoring cleanout continues (hell yeah I just did that), I notice three people at the road outside. Pointing, taking notes, and snapping photos. Immediately assume it's the 'scouts' and that we're awfully close to being the next target. My urgency hastens and I warn everyone, but business goes about as usual.
Night falls, long after I had intended to be home with my family. Inevitably the foreign assault begins. Troops with guns come storming down the road. We maybe find a temporary hiding spot in the house but are obviously trapped with an unknown future. Will we be captured/killed? Will we put up resistance? What exactly is going on? Only thing on my mind is "I have to get back to my wife and kid."
That's about when I woke. Just a dream with a combo of work-anxiety, don't-want-to-be-here-running-out-of-time anxiety, and a dash of did-Tom-Clancy-write-this-script anxiety?
All for you, uncensored, unedited, no regard to good writing conventions. Maybe I'll merge this dream with my Zombie-Apocalypse dream from before and we'll really have something.

Nearly sober ramble

The nothingness is palatable. I want to write something interesting. Just to feel the keys of the keyboard sink under my fingers for more than the length of an email, or the span of a tweet. I feel like I have nothing to say. All just complaining. Wanton commentary on the day to day goings on. Frustrated at work, grumpy at home. No one wants to hear it. We all have our complaining to do, and listen to others complain just isn't very interesting.
I'm getting to my co workers I can feel it. Unleashing at the same few targets for no good reason. Ok a few good reasons. But it's not getting very far. Staying positive is much more successful in the long haul. Bring people with you, rather than dump them on the ground and try to make it on your own. Almost every day I tell myself that. Then someone does something counterproductive or downright pointless and I go at em guns blazing. Deserve it? Maybe. Helping the greater good by doing it? Not really. Helping my own future? Doubtful.
Maybe it's just winter coming near, but all I really want to do is hibernate, not do anything. Can't seem to think straight, clear thoughts don't come often. Escaping the allure of mind-altering substances is a must, but they do work wonders when you want them to. Beer is an excellent tool for shutting down an active mind. Me and my kind, stop drinkin for a day or two and we're ready to conquer the world. We outperform the nermals every day in a one-drink-short-of-a-hangover haze. Add the instant clarity, energy, and boredom of sobriety; it could be earth shaking.
Enough rambling for one day. Not much to say, but going through the motions is good. Can't be an athlete without the practice. And one of the reasons I bought this dell was for the keyboard.

Just Pretending

Feel like a cheat who's managed to half-ass my way into deep water, but never learned to swim with the sharks (to mix metaphors).

I am envious

Of all you scadians, trekkies, troopers, civil war re-enactors, gun-show nuts, church freaks, furries, larpers, fan-fictioneers, movie-campers, flash mobs, dave-festians, browncoats... anyone with enough conviction and confidence to stand up for what you enjoy and seek out others to participate in the same strain. Dive in far enough to become an avid, an expert, a collector, reknown. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people dig in to someting 'nerdy' or 'dorky' and see it pay off, or even how happy they are just living in that world. Something prevents me from doing the same. Innate fear of following the crowd, even if the crowd is like-minded. Lack of commitment to anything, real or fiction far enough to be anything but mediocre... I dunno.
For all you ready to accept what you love and live in the now. I salute you.

Except for the furries. I was just kidding about them.
Fuck the furries, that shit's just wrong.