dannydmc

My tooth broke today.

Well, thats a lie, or at least an untruth. It wasn't my tooth that broke, it was a 900 dollar crown on one of my back molars. I was eating breakfast at work before clocking in when I suddenly felt something hard in the foor. "shit", I muttered and spit it out to find the crown laying in my hand.
A co-worker looked over to ask ask if I was okay, just in time to see the pseudo-tooth laying in my hand. "Crap", he yelled and suddenly went green in the face.
"Shit. Shit, shit, shit", I repeated as I ran out of the breakroom to find a phonebook to call a dentist (even in the closest thing I come to panic, I still maintain enough of my senses to know what needs to be done). I ran to the manager's office, and explained to one of my bosses what had happened and get the phone book.
There was a little boy in the office, the son of one of the managers. He looked up at me, smiled, and said "I lost TWO teeth this week!"
I smiled and told him that was very nice but, at my age, this isn't a good thing. He wanted to know why, so I explained it to him. Have I ever mentioned that I love kids? I do, and I've found over the years that they like me. Even in my near panick, I had no problems talking to the little guy who was, lets face it, only curious.
As I was on the phone with a dentist office, the boy's father came into the room; the kid ran to him and said "I love you". It melted my heart; its so nice to see Fathers and sons getting along so well at that age. My Father and I have always been very close, and it reminded me of when I was a child (Of course, _I_ never would have used the "L" word. Even as a kid it made me uncomfortable. I remember hurting my Mother's feelings when I refused to tell her I loved her for a long stretch of time, saying instead "I like you". It was nothing personal; I'd watched enough TV at that age to realize that when a character told another that s/he loved them, something bad always happened. I was, in my own mind, just trying to protect her from a horrid twist in the plot!)
Calling the dentists didn't matter; it was a Friday, and the one before Christmas to boot, and I was only able to find one that was open, and he was booked solid all day. Christ, it was horrible; for years not I've had a reoccuring nightmare where all of my teeth fall out while I desperately try to reattach them. This was coming far too close to that for comfort, and it made he irritable to say the least.

Speaking of dreams, mine have been haunted as of late; and I mean that literally. The past several nights I've dreamt that I somehow came into contact with ghosts in a haunted house, or that I've been being stalked by a serial killer out of a slasher movie. I've even found myself pitted against hordes of zombies in a rickety old house. None of thse I would classify as nightmares, as I haven't woken up in terror, but they've been unpleasent to say the least.
I think it deals with my anxieties over grad school. You see, I was allowed into the History program here on probation, meaning that I needed to receive a B in all of my first three classes to stay in the program. Well, I managed to pull A's in two of my classes (one with a very difficult grader, even; the type of man who goes semesters without giving an A) but in my most important class I bombed and got a 'C'.
I've been frantacly talking to people in the department, trying to get n exception made for me due to my strong standings in other classes, but I still haven't been able to figure out if its all for naught or not. I had a meeting with my advisor this morning (and one of the profs who gave me an A, to boot) and he refused to waive the requirements for me, but did give me several suggestions that I plan on following through.
Although I've been staying very calm and collected in waking life, refusing to become hysterical or even angry (and whats to get angry about? The professor who gave me the bad grade didn't do it as a personal slight. I highly doubt he was 'out to get me') my dreams seem to be telling another story entirely; one of anxieties literally haunting and bedeviling me. This seems all the more evident as, eventually, nearly all of the dreams have shifted to taking place in Alaska, usually in my old classroom: the sight of some of my greatest struggles of the past few years.

Last night's dream was the oddest one:

I was taking a shower when one of my best friend's appeared at my door and let herself in. This friend, let's call her 'Glenda' has been one of my closest friends since High School. There was a while when I seriously wanted to date her; and, although thats since passed, I still hit on her constantly. She's a damn good looking gal, and knows me better than almost anyone!
So 'Glenda' comes into my house just as I leave the shower, stark naked. I see her and quickly try to cover up, my hands darting in frotn of my crotch as I embarrasingly tell her that I'm naked and she can't see me right now. This doesn't seem to bother her in the least, as she makes herself at home.
The next thing of the dream that I remember (save for an odd change of scenery to a Star Trek-like spaceship!) is I'm sitting in a bar with my parents. Glenda is there and begins to sing; her voice is beautiful and seems to be coming from everywhere at once. I don't even see her at this point, but I can hear her everywhere.
My Mother comments that she didn't know that Glen could sing so well, and I tell her that she's always enjoyed it.
We step outside and I find myself on the top of a mountain. Down below the mountain you can see a great mass of people. I'm standing on the mountain with my parents when I look around and see a group of people which I quickly determine are zombies! Unlike in past dreams, however, they mean me no harm. In fact, THESE undead had formed themselves into a band and just want to play music, which they soon begin to do. The music, once again, is beautiful and they sing to the crowd below the mountain. The landscape that I'm looking out on looks a lot like Mars, with an orange sky and rocky bluffs all over the place.

I'm not really sure what this one means; although I was reading some Jung today and come upon a passage which suggests that singing usually has some relation to emotions. This would fit into 'Glenda' rather well, as she's a deeply emotional person; often given to fits of it from time to time. She also, for that matter, is an accomplished musician; she sings, dances, and plays two instruments (The Sax and the Concertena).

The dream got me thinking more of her lately. She's currently living over seas while going to grad school in Europe and so we've only been talking on-line lately. I realized that I haven't told her about my current problems in grad school and that, furthermore, I've been avoiding doing it because I'm horribly embarrassed about it all. One of my best friends, and I'm too scared to let her know when the road has gotten a bit rocky for me (again).
The more I thought about it, I realized that this was a pattern in my young-adult life. When ever things go badly, I've very hesitant to tell people that I'm close to about it; at least those who know me well enough to know my feelings about it. I remember, last year, during the horrid "Student trying to kill me" incident, it was only with great reluctance that I told people about it; I was terrified that the entire incident might make me look weak in their eyes.
And there inlies the true problem. When the hell did I become convinced that my family and friends' love and respect for me entirely hinged on how successful I was? My reoccuring thought upon hearing about the bad class was not "Lord, this sucks for me; I need to work this out so that I can continue on the path I've chosen." It wasn't even "I don't have a clue how this happened; I had three people look over that paper for me!". It was "How am I going to be able to show my face back home again!?"
Of course, when I told my Father, he was fine and we had a nice conversation plotting out what my courses of action could be (And this, mind you, is one of the reasons why my Dad is still one of my closest confidents; not only does he have a way of calming me down, he is always able to help me figure out what my options are, and the best way to go about fixing the problem). But then again, it almost always turns out all right; I've yet to be disowned when I made mistakes, and I've never lost a friend over it either. If anything, they give me the support I need to move onward.
The only exception here, lately, is my Mother. I make her nervous, as she told me this morning; she's always nervous about me, especially when I'm in school. Every conversation I've had with her lately usually devolves into a quasi-hysterical lecture on her part, as he bravely attempts to tell me things that I already know. "I'm not lecturing you", she told me today, "but this is your Future! This is your LIFE! I know you work hard, but you need to work HARDER!"
Thanks Mom. I honestly wasn't aware of that at all. Never mind the fact that if I worked any harder this semester, I'd have died of a heart attack. My daily schedule involved going to class, doing school work for several hours, taking a hour or two off, and then staying up until 2 in the morning doing more school work. The only exceptions was when I was at work; then I only did school work on my breaks/lunches and for an hour or two after I got home and before I collapsed into bed. Also on Wednesday; I took a few hours off to read a few comic books and watch "Ghost Hunters" that day. Everyone deserves a FEW hours off. Hell; I only went out to the local shows once over two-to-three weeks this semester.
Obviously, I've been slacking off!

Anyway, Christmas is coming up and I'm looking forward to going home and seeing my friends and family. I just wish that this entire thing wasn't hanging over my head like the sword over the thrown of a certain Greek-King. Christ, why can't things ever be easy for me? I look at my friends and know I'm just as smart as they are, but they've all thrown themselves into their careers or grad school and things seem to move so smoothly for them. It seems like the pst three years I've been taking every wrong direction I could, and struggling to get to where I'm going. Someone once told me that this was all to make me stronger; but I can't help but think "how much stronger do I have to be? My God, what am I being prepared for!?"
I've already spent three years wandering in the wilderness (both figuritvely and literally), and had one year where I seriously wasn't even sure if I'd be alive by the end of it (Damn death threats!). My cousin Tom summed it all up nicely, "You're Ulysseus", he said, "always searching for home, but fated not to get there." I can';t help but think he's right.


So, I'm going to end this on a GOOD note;. Merry Christmas to all of you on SG, I hope you have a great holiday and spend it with those you care about most. I plan on doing that, at the very least, myself!

Also, here's a song that sums up my philosophy towards life perfelct; sung by the immortal Dewey Cox!