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Saturated with moisture I woke from a dream that I was a freshman in high school again. Beyond that fact most of the other details are lost. The only other thing that I can remember is that it was my first week. My best pop psychological guess would be that this has to do with me starting my new job next week. I think that its funny that I chose a high school environment for my dream. I can certainly see the parallel, but I would think that I am more confident now than I was fourteen years ago. At least I would hope that I am. The focus of the latest issue of the New Yorker has to do with private lives. The center article focused on Charles Lindbergh and his family. Before I read the article, I never really gave much to the man. Oh, I knew about his famous flight to Paris in 1927 and the abduction of his child, but that's about where it ended before today. The short piece was written by his daughter which surprised me more. I didn't know that Lindbergh had any more children. Even she says that people are surprised to learn that there were other children after the most famous one was killed. With good reason the Lindbergh family took extra precaution to shield them from the public eye. Paul McCartney is also very good at doing this with his children. Most people know of either Julian or Sean Lennon, but I doubt that they can name Paul's son. In my boredom and frustration, I decided to remove about half of the decorations in my cube last Friday. I am starting to think that this may have been premature, because this new generic look combined with the almost unbearable cold and damp air in the room made for a very long day. I felt as though I were in a cave. At least I still have my plants at my desk.
audio input at the moment: Trailer Park - Beth Orton
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