grad school, again

Laying in bed, trying to breathe, I float in and out of consciousness. I dream a bit, wake up and write it down, read my book a bit, fall asleep again, wake up, mark a few papers, fall asleep.

Lately my dreams have been vivid and bizarre. I woke up frantically looking for a pen and paper to write down the name Rucker Ruenberger before I forgot. I told myself to google him later. I have no idea what I was dreaming about, just that this was extremely important.

I was in grad school, again, getting another design related degree that I'd never use. I was being a lazy student and I hadn't completed my homework. I was turning red, overheating, and sweating. I didn't know how this could have happened. I got the sense that was such a huge fuck up and I couldn't stop failing. The strangest part was the collection of students in my class. Notables included: Merlin, Greg (a new co-worker who's been there for 12 years now), and some woman, who I actually went to grad school with. I can never remember. All I know is that she was a hardcore lady who used to do tv production, I liked her winter boots, and she was from New Jersey.

The homework assignment was to come up with a product, interactive tool, or event that combined two seemingly unrelated user groups. For example, Merlin had designed some kind of fragrance line that had to do with the alphabet. That made no sense, but in my dream world he had done a very good job with his homework. I was impressed by his rendering skills and his whole presentation. But, I heard next to nothing he said. I was too busy being completely embarrassed and trying to come up with something, quick.

In the back of my mind I kept recreating a Simpson's episode where Homer had said "ahhh... what if we got people who like beer and people who like music together?" Then they pan out to a Duff sponsored music festival that looked like Woodstock 2. If that's an actual episode or not, I have no idea. I kept racking my brain trying to come up with something interesting, but everything was too general. I kept going back to the Simpson's episode hoping I'd haphazardly stumble upon something genius. "Food and music," I kept saying to myself, trying to brainstorm. I came up with two lame ideas that didn't completely make sense--a recipe book that was on a cd with songs that go together with the dishes and an online-based travel game where you went on a food/restaurant/eating scavenger hunt from China, through Russia, to Europe. Somehow it was loosely related to geocaching. No one was impressed. Merlin looked at me blankly and I heard his thoughts that sounded something like, "Stupid bitch. What are doing you doing in grad school?" Of course, these weren't his thoughts, but my own. I woke up still trying to think of something innovative.

I have a lot of anxiety about my new job. I'm the youngest in the department. I'm not sure that I'm qualified, have enough experience, or even know enough about the English language. I feel like I'm bluffing all the time. At my most insecure moments I convince myself that: I barely got through high school, but got into a good college by mistake (or because I put that I was African-American on the application); I only got into grad school because I was in the only interview group that Red Burns hadn't attended; and that I only got this job because I got a master's degree from NYU. Everything else was nothing more than a glossy front. I never feel on par with my peers or co-workers. I'm always admiring them for all the things that come easily to them. I was always intimidated by the super smart design freaks of ITP. That was a time of failure, and I fear experiencing that again.

in a car, outside myself

I was driving around somewhere in the mid-west in a blue mini-tuk-tuk. I picked it up at a convenience store and was driving it around for some time looking for my parents and "town." I followed signs that looked like the ones all over Seoul pointing to different subway stations. It's late, sometime in the early morning hours of a new day. I kept zoning out and dozing off while driving, like the way I do sometimes in the back of a cab coming home after a couple drinks.

Finally, I was almost there and then I ran out of gas. At the front of the tuk tuk--that now suddenly resembled a cheap plastic machine half way between a vacuum cleaner and a swiffer--there was a compartment that held an aerosol can filled with fuel, like those single gas burners they have in Korean restaurants. It was empty so I went into a store to see if they had another. They informed me that they didn't have any and that I had somehow gotten away with not paying the equivalent of $5 as a deposit at the pick up spot. No one had mentioned anything to me when I took the tuk-tuk, they just seemed to be there. I figured it didn't matter, I'm a foreigner and I honestly didn't know.

A couple at the store/gas station gave me a ride to "town." Their car became van-like. Then I'm in my parent's mini-van and I'm with my parents. A short time passes but it feels like we have been riding together for a while having many discussions about many things. They park and get out, but I'm staying inside to take a nap. My mother rolls down the front window on the passenger side so I won't die of carbon monoxide. I find it strange that she would even allow me to stay and sleep in the car. I'm not even tired, but I stay.

It's night. Looking at the open window I'm nervous that it's open too much. I imagine that someone could reach in and open the door. I worry that someone is going to steal the car, or me. The van becomes a Winnebago/tour bus. My parents walk away a bit and a tall white dude starts reaching into the car. I tell White Dude that if he reaches anymore that I'm going to cut off his arm. White Dude's friend, another tall white guy is suddenly inside the van. The van is open now like the bus has an open atrium. He's asking me, "With what? A serrated knife?"

At this point I don't feel safe. I go to nod my head, knowing that I can't deceive him. I'm defenseless. I have no weapon at all. I see my father out of the corner of my eye, but I'm locked inside of the car. The window is still open so I calmly say out loud, "Dad, there are three very tall white men inside the van." this is when I realize that there are three big white dudes in the van and that there isn't much my father could do to protect me outside. I start to panic.

There is some kind of anxiety rushing over me and then suddenly something happens. The next thing I know I'm a policewoman outside the van, which is parked at a gas station. The wheels are turning inside my head. I felt the same rush of anxiety as when I was myself, but now I'm trying to figure out what to do to save the young woman (myself) inside. I'm standing next to a couple (my parents) who are standing there petrified. Suddenly I charge through the glass window with the plan to reach in and grab the woman. The glass breaks into shards that soar behind me in slow motion. I have a momentary thought, that I've seen too much anime... and everything fades.

Chocolate Man

I found myself at Chocolate Man's house, again. I've been there before. He offered me a bar of chocolate that time, but he's since forgotten that incident in the store. I'm sitting on the bed with him and his wife. The bed seemed to be in the store, but then turned into their master bedroom. It felt a little funny, like it was going to get kinky, so I laid it on thick when I mentioned that I was gonna get outta there soon. My mother was going to call me any second anyway.

The bedspread had a silky lush sheen to it. The room was dim and everything had a burgundy or a deep reddish wine tone to it. It was like some kind of lair of pleasure, a den of sorts. Chocolate Man offered me a scrumdiddlyumptious (like in Willy Wonka). I was making a mess eating it. It wasn't at all like I imagined a scrumdiddlyumptious. I thought it would be a bit more gooey, possibly with some nuts on the inside. Instead it was like a dried up Coffeecrisp, which I've only found in Canada (they are what a Kit-Kat wished it could be).

The pieces were crumbling all over the place. All over the bed. I felt bad about this, but I couldn't help it. Chocolate Man got a bit pissed, but the bed had already been soiled with the delicate cocoa powder from the truffles he had been devouring earlier. He swept them off the bed and onto the floor.

We continued to eat luscious treats when suddenly some geometric grey, white, and black, 1/2 hamster, 1/2 rat pet of his emerged with a happy dilophosaur-like caw (you remember that crazy dinosaur in Jurassic Park that killed Denis, the fat programmer dude) from a little green triangular bag on the bed. It looked nothing like a hamster or a rat though. It looked a lot more like a Picasso influenced lemur and flying squirrel hybrid.



I wasn't afraid, but like disgusted by it. He had two toys, little balls that looked like Chinese health balls, but lighter. One was matte grey and the other was a metallic black. The creature carried one over to me and handed it to me. Then it started speaking Japanese. Not that I understood the Japanese, but I could identify that it was Japanese. Apparently, Chocolate Man had picked him up on his travels--sorta like Gizmo from Gremlins. The little "rathamster" pet was very affectionate and funny. I was grossed out and fascinated.

He had a puzzle box it fit into that you cranked a wheel to scramble the triangular pieces. Then the "rathamster" would have to shuffle and squirm through them to get out.

Meanwhile, Chocolate Man was getting ready to watch Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, the new one. He said everyone always thought that he watched it all the time, but he said that it wasn't true and that he needed a batch of pot brownies to truly enjoy it.

Instead of Willy Wonka some really twisted sex tapes of Chocolate Man and his wife came on. They were all Nam June Paik (Global Groove) style. There were flashy disco colors and the face of the wife would morph into the face of Chocolate Man so he was fucking himself while the outline of their bodies turned fuchsia and became them in another position.



I wasn't really trying to watch. I mean besides having to keep a sharp eye on the questionable mutant pet, it seemed inappropriate, I didn't know Chocolate Man like that, and I wasn't interested in getting freak nasty with him and his wife. I mean she was hot, but I wasn't into him.

Then the weird pet came and sprawled out behind me, extending it's paws towards my limbs. The home video was starting to get racey and the "rathamster" suddenly started pricking me with its teeny tiny nails. They felt like little electric shocks on the end of an exacto knife. I screamed out, "OW! HIS NAILS!" Then the thing asked me in Korean, "His nails? What are nails?" It was English, but I understood it as Korean. As I tried to think of how I would explain and show the creature what nails are I drifted...