The Dreamer and the Realist

I'm sitting in a hotel bar drinking a vodka soda and two lemons. The bar is noisy with business people after a seminar. I just spoke to Danielle outside while smoking whom is from Boston. She tells me her and her husband own a restaurant Angelo's on Columbus street in Boston. I had to write that down for when I'm in Boston next.

I put in my ear buds, clicked on Itunes and now listening to the Once soundtrack. It has drowned out the gleeful conversations of relaxed business people. I had come down here for a late lunch earlier. I took a shower and again I'm annoyingly in a non-smoking room so I figured this would be a great time to write to you my faithful readers.

I must be a bit silly sitting at the bar with headphones and typing on a laptop, but you know I think I like making people curious about that stranger at the end of the bar. I do know from across the bar Danielle's got my back.

Today was a good day. I woke up well rested from Captain Stone's house. I had enough coffee to kick start the day. I had some extra time before school so I decided to drive further past the school. To my nice surprise I found an inlet at the end of this street. It overlooked the serene view of the bay. I was glad that I kept driving to find this gem unknown to me. It added to the peace that I needed that morning before a presentation.

The teacher was very nice and was a talker. She just seemed so excited about a lot of things and you had to somewhat pay attention to what she was saying because the topic would change in an instant. The students were polite. The first were a good mix of art students who asked me about all the famous people I have met. The second group was all girls who were a lot of fun to talk to. The last was in an auditorium, which always seems less personal. It's harder to connect to them that way compared to being in a room right in front of them. I hear tomorrow I'll be in an auditorium all day tomorrow. All and all I have at least made an impression on the teachers because they want me to come back next semester. That would give me an idea of winter, which I think is something I need to find out for myself.

I then drove the half hour back to Portland and staying at the Double Tree. It's further from downtown than I like. Meaning I can't walk to it. Which I could have saved myself from that because when I checked in, I was only booked for one night. I think that was my mistake. I went up stairs and searched for hotels downtown, like that holiday inn would have been great, but I'm sorry Mother, Father, F%@king Expedia doesn't cover it. Yes I know I said that before but that really kind of pisses me off. So I made it easy and just booked it here another night here. Which is okay, so I don't feel like I have to move again.

Wow, after reading this, this is boring.

I've been thinking about this a lot since I had this conversation about it back in Indy with a dear friend. It was brought to my attention the two personalities I own that are in constant battle with each other. One side is the realist and the other is the dreamer.

Wait, before I begin, I'm listening to a song at the bar and it feels like one of those movie moments with the background music going on and the rest of the people are just extras. Like this is a montage of me writing blogs for all of you. Sweet.

All right, so the writer in me is the dreamer and the realist is the one who figures out what to do after the dreamer is done with writing. I've recognize that the when the dreamer and the realist is in perfect harmony I'm doing great creatively. Recently the dreamer and the realist are at war. When the dreamer begins to write the realist is whispering into his ear saying what's the point. The realist is being a cynical bastard who is depressed but won't admit it. The dreamer is full of hope but very sensitive so when the realist brings the dreamer down the dreamer gives up and walks away. Right now I'm trying to get the realist and the dreamer to fall in love again. If I skip one day of writing these notes to my weary eyed readers I feel that I'll suddenly stop. I'm trying to get to a point where this is a good addiction rather than a war in my head. I've learned that I need to be addicted to good things in life rather than the bad. If I could find myself writing to you my friends everyday even though you don't read them everyday, it makes it an obsession. Where something will be missing if my day isn't put down. They say making prisoners write stories or poetry they become more peaceful. Perhaps the realist and the dreamer that are imprisoned in my head for eternity will now become at peace and with that my creativity will flourish.

Words are meant to be read; I guess that's why I don't understand diaries.

I know you have all stressed interest in the movie I saw last night and Brit went out to see it in Bloomington where I am extremely proud and absolutely amazed the movie was there. So here is the link to the trailer for those of you that haven't heard of it or know anything about it.

http://imdb.com/title/tt0907657/trailers-screenplay-E32392-10-2




the inlet I found