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< 03/07/29 >

3:11 am. I'm reinvigorated to write in this. Why? I suppose there are a plethora of reasons. One, a dream, which I will further delve into. Two, a prospective relationship. Three, a friend. Four, life, in the broadest term possible, has changed. I had a dream, whilst sleeping at Guido's, which... I can only think of as my first nightmare since kindergarten. The majority of the dream took place at this odd dirt track. Actually, it was two dirt tracks which interesected, plus train tracks and a road. One track was constantly being circled by a man who I can only describe as a stoner. Nothing particular about him, apart from the joint in his mouth and the sloth-like movement, gave indication of being a stoner, he just was. I assume this was the stoner getting nowhere in life, stuck on this circular path. At one point I ran them both, first the stoner one, the other after. I broke free of both after having ran them both once. I see this as rather promising, as I can try something and get away from it. One strange part is that usually in dreams I see myself in the third person. For this dream it went to and fro third and first person. I was also trained to be some other kind of operator at some point. Whilst I understood and all, I didn't like the idea, and started slacking off, not going to work. I remember worrying about work, then showing up very late, then not really... doing anything I was supposed to be doing. This makes think of what I want to do about my actual job, but know I can't, not yet anyway. Later my mother drove up in the Taurus to the complex, fenced in, beside the dirt tracks. Other people had arrived as well. Some gala event was taking place for Bell employees, which both my mother and I actually are. I ne'er actually saw the event, it just cut from walking in to walking out. But I know it happened, as my mom was changed, drunk(which she never is, so this very uncharacteristic event was scary in itself). We got back into the van(as the Taurus had disappeared and left my father's white van, which my mother can't drive) and started driving away. I saw a shot of some bottles in the little step well for the sliding door, obviously liquor bottles. My mom was driving quite poorly and we almost ran over some people as she drove through a red light and up onto the sidewalk. Somehow we were not caught. We kept driving and at one point actually stopped, though I'm pretty sure it wasn't because of a light, we just stopped. Some people tried to open the sliding door on the left side of the van(which does not actually exist). I hurriedly jumped out of my sit and kicked them away, my mother trying, in her stupor, to maneouver away. As we got back into traffic I turned to her and slowly said, "I'm worried about you. About me. About us." Thus ended my dream. I call it a nightmare as it was frightening. I was shaken. I'm sure Laura must have noticed. The reason I was scared was part confusion, as fear is derived from misunderstanding, as well as the fact that... it feels somewhat premonitionary, as I'm not sure where I'm going. I AM worried about myself. I see my mother at very rare occassions, and she is always stressed. It no way to live. I AM worried about her. It hit hard, it hit close, it hit. It kept me thinking. That leads well into point two. As I made my groggy way downstairs, with the equally groggy Guido, and searched for an appropriate breakfast, the phone rang. For me. My father is on hte other end asking whether I work today and whatnot. I'm told someone called, apparently my boss, wondering when I'd be back in. My father couldn't hear me well so he passed it to my sister, who had actually taken the call. I asked her what the person sounded like? Young, old, male, female. "Young, female, more your like age." My heart leapt across the table and back without touching the ground. That was not my boss, that was Rachel, whom I professed my ...admiration for on friday. She called, wondering when I'd be back to work... to me that sounds positive no matter how you look at it. I shall say no more... as I know no more and I think I'll just keep this a little more exciting for the readers, not to mention make me lense anxious, if I don't go galavanting off into my thoughts, enh? A friend. Laura. She read my entire diary, and liked it, and wanted more. I'd been htinking for a while about starting up again, as I read Laura and Evan's journals. I don't rant very well, so I decided, after reading this: "I finished reading Phil’s journal. I must say I thoroughly enjoyed it. It fascinates me to see how other people’s minds function. Not to mention interesting people, and I find Phil quite interesting. I’d ask him to start it up again, but I believe that would be most selfish of me. If he feels the need to write then he will on his own accord." - Laura D'Alessandro that I was to write atleast another entry. And here I am. Li'l Brandon, Evan, Laura, enjoy. Life has changed, as it tends to. Since my last entry... ah, fuck that, I won't list things, that's just dull. I have a new neighbor. His name is Jeremy ...Unhail? I dunno, something like that. He's 22 days older than I. He's an actor, a writer, a punk enthusiast, and an otherwise average teenager. He fights against ignorance, he has some good points as far as debates go, he's not great at hack, but he'll learn... he'll have to. He likes Don Hertzfeldt and Invader Zim... but who doesn't. He's pretty cool. I have a new movie script. It's name is Casually Dressed Individuals. It's a collaboration of the mind of Guido and myself, with some input from Evan and Jeremy. It's about paranoia, originally based on a night Evan, Guido, Laura, Steph and myself spent in select parks near my house. It's promising. I have a new direction to go in life. It's called film. I'm liking it more and more. I've always been iffy about animation, and whilst film has no drawing... well.. it can... but I think I prefer it to animation. We'll see. I have a new friend. A few, actually. Guido, Laura, Jeremy. I'm talking to them each... well... far more than ever. Out of no where Guido and I pick up movie project and have spent most of my spare time working on it.. or trying to. He's a brilliant man, broken by the world, pushed around by the family head, like a veritable mafia character, except he has an astounding brain. It saddens me to know his parents exist. As they seem to crush his being... they discourage his whole existance. I'll be very sad when he leaves, as he will have to. It seems the most interesting people can never stay around for a long time. Laura is.. a good girl. I don't know... I really don't... but I wish I did. She's great, and I'm going to spend a whole day just painting with her. Again, I dislike her parents, though they don't seem to affect her the same way. I suppose she is too far into her own world to be bothered by others. I suppose that's a good thing, but how can anyone enter her life if she's so far from the surface that she doesn't even notice them knocking at the front door? Jeremy's the average teen I've never met. I suppose it's because I've known all my friends since before their teen hood, or they're strange fucks. Jeremy, I meet, at the same age as I, facing similar obstacles, handling them differently. I suppose he is my ... damn.. what is that * snap * character foil. Jeremy H. is my character foil. And my neighbor. That's some freaky shit. I haven't had a direct neighbor that was actually my friend since I lived in Wakefield(which I left at the age of 4), and it is.. pretty fun. I mean, he tells me on MSN that he's coming over, and two minutes later he's at the door. It's rather exciting. That's Jeremy. I have new thoughts. I have a new discman. I have a new job. Dial "0" for Phil, baby! I'm an operator at Bell. It's good money. It's mind-numbing. It's majoritarily run by depressed and angry 45 year old menopausians. It's scary at times. I have a new intestine. I traded in my old one, real good deal. Alright, alright, I don't. I have nothing else to say. I have to go to bed, I'm tired as shit and supposed to be waking up in... I don't even know... (10:30 am) - (4:07 am) = (the time when Philly's gotta get up) I'll return, some day...