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dragons

I had a bunch of things on the slate for today, but Spiro ruined it all.

Procrastinate? Me? Nah.

Anyway, tomorrow must be a Very Productive Day. I have to buy a few more presents, do Christmas cards (augh!), and do some house cleaning. All day. And that's final.

Let me tell you - it's a good thing that I wasn't aware of how fun Spiro is when Christmas lists were being made up. Otherwise I would have asked for the whole PlayStation setup and the game, and my life would really be dull. "Well, today I played Spiro and went to work. I forgot to eat or sleep, though."

That little dragon is so cute. I love dragons. No, I mean I really like dragons. My dragon amulet is very important to me, and my apartment is filled with pictures, toys and statues of dragons.

I'm sure you know someone who's crazy about angels. They have angels on everything they own. They have a guardian angel. They talk to angels when they're worried. That's me with dragons.

Well, what's a dragon but an angel with a tail?

No, really. Think about it. Satan was described as a "great winged dragon." Angels have wings. Satan was also one of God's fallen angels. Man was made in God's image; nothing was said about the angels. So, hypothetically, all angels should be dragons.

Ok, so it's a reach. Work with me here.

When I'm terribly stressed out, I simply think of a dragon. I trace the graceful contours of the wings in my mind. I can see the sweep of the neck. I sense the tail curling around me. Sometimes, just sometimes, the image and my own sense of self blur.

And suddenly I've got wings.

It's not that strange, really. Focused meditation is designed to force your brain into new ways of thinking. Forget what the new-age weirdoes tell you. What you're really doing with focused (or guided) meditation is hypnotizing yourself. I think that's where so-called "astral travel" and out of body experiences come from. Your mind is so focused on something that it believes it to be true. Like how I sometimes believe that I have wings.

I'm not about to go jumping off any buildings, however. I don't really think I'm a dragon. That would be daft. But the idea of a dragon, in its most generic form, appeals to me in an incredible way.

But I'm undeniably dragony. It's not just my wishful thinking. Others have noticed. So I put together a little study. I'm full of complimentary contrasts.

Don't call me crazy. I'm humorously eccentric.

Of course I am.

When I close my eyes, I can feel my wings, my horns, my hot fiery breath. See, my tail must be kept clear of closing doors, and my talons will shred the thickest steel. Just because you can't see them does not mean they aren't there.

I have no scales. Scales are for lizards, and I am not a lizard. I am a Dragon.

I am loyal to my friends. I will stand with them through thick and thin, defending their honor if need be. Their pain is mine; my joy belongs to them.

I delight in collecting stuff. It doesn't matter what - what matters is the size of the hoard. I keep everything. I still have my high school biology notes. That broken cup might come in handy. I could never forgive myself if I threw something away and later said - "Damn... If only I had a ceramic cup handle!" I love my stuff.

Moving is a painful chore. Cleaning is worse. ("What if I need this dust someday?")

On cold winter days I delight in the vapor that escapes from my mouth and nose. I puff, watching the cloud dissipate into the atmosphere. During warmer weather or when I am inside, I turn to cigarettes to provide my "puff." I have tried to quit...

But what is a dragon without a flame?

My temper is short. I will seethe for only so long before my anger bursts out of me in a terrible explosion.

I delight in the pure but complex pleasure of the natural world. A sunset becoming a star-speckled night sky. A fern growing in the shade of a tall, majestic oak. A bird landing gracefully in the water. I live in a wonderful world that I would not voluntarily leave for anything.

I am Dragon. Hear me roar.

Of course I'm not.

I am Homo sapiens sapiens. I have no wings, no horns, no tail. My teeth are ordinary, and my nails are chewed down to nubs.

My hair is thin and wispy, and has a mind of it's own. I try to stay out of the sun - my pale skin burns easily.

My friends tolerate my eccentricities. I tolerate theirs. We get along famously.

My apartment is a horrible mishmash of toys, posters, odd trinkets, and books of all sorts and subjects. I haven't the heart to throw any of it away... Although whether that stems from sentimentality or from laziness I will never know.

My mother says, "Junk will expand to fill the space available." I am afraid of what will happen when I have to move to a larger apartment. The sheer weight of my combined junk might change the tilt of the Earth's axis.

A good portion of my disposable income is spent on cigarettes. My brands, sizes and flavors have varied over the years, but I would feel naked without a smooth white paper cylinder between my fingers, no matter the brand.

I fully expect to die of lung cancer before I reach the half-century mark.

My temper is legendary. I have been known to snap at people for the odd look or the ill-thought word. Apologies usually come too late and too slight.

I hike. I meditate. I drive, I work, I sleep. I lead a terribly ordinary life that I would not voluntarily give up for anything.

I am Human. Hear me type.

Looking Up

______ of the Day

Spinning

The Reservoir Dogs soundtrack

Go Somewhere