Posted by Ryan
October 25, 2009
From what I’ve been able to gather from the others participating in the read-a-thon, they started at a later hour than I did. I started at 1:30 AM EST and it’s now 1:00 AM the following day. I am going to bed. Between falling asleep, running errands, and attending birthday parties for 2 friends (I read on my phone while at the parties!) I certainly did not spend a full 24 hours of reading. I’ll wager I read and listened to books for a good 12 hours.
12 hours is quite good I think. About 11 hours more than usual.
Still, it doesn’t seem right to sign up for, and participate in, a 24-hour read-a-thon without reaching the goal. So, I plan to make it up this week. I don’t think I’ll be able to fit another 12 hours in tomorrow, but I certainly can over the next few days. I will keep all ya’ll updated by posting my progress here.
Thanks to all the ‘cheerleaders’ who have commented on my posts for encouraging me to keep reading!
Posted by Ryan
December 8, 2008
I originally published this on 2008/12/8. I removed it from my archives later because I was afraid it sounded like I was making fun of him, which I wasn’t*. After re-reading this and laughing at myself I decided to make some modifications and re-publish. 2009/12/9
I, like just about every other 26 year old straight male in the world, don’t dream about David Archuleta. I would have liked to have had it stay that way, but what we get and what we want are not always the same, however unfortunate it may be.
It started out as a normal Sunday. Then, suddenly and without warning a girl said something about David Archuleta. I guess it really wasn’t without warning; it’s pretty common for girls to ask me about him, probably because I look like a short, young Latino and have an amazing voice? Or not. Maybe it’s that I grew up in Murray, Utah, which is where he’s from.
Nothing, actually, made Sunday abnormal at all. I just thought it sounded more suspenseful to say “it started out normal…”. You see, I’m practicing to be an scary book writer. So far so good, eh?
Of course, if I was really trying to be a writer of scary books I wouldn’t call myself a “scary book writer” because that doesn’t sound, well, terribly frightening.
Once or twice, when I was young, I had a sleep-over at a friend’s house. Well, I had a lot of sleep-overs, but the “once or twice” I’m referring to was with a friend who had a bunk bed. Even then, I probably had a lot more sleep-overs with him than just once or twice. What I’m trying to say is that I remember his bunk bed.
I don’t really remember, but it’s entirely possible that I thought the bunk bed was cool.
Then, once or twice (or whatever) on scout camps when we slept in cabins, I realized that the desirability of the top or bottom bunk on a bunk bed was directly proportional to the season and the quality of the heating/cooling in the cabin (which is usually pretty bad for the types of cabins which scouts stay in).
So last night, high up on my loft bed, I apparently fell asleep. I say apparently because it took me a long time to fall asleep. So long that by the time I actually woke up I was uncertain that I had ever fallen asleep. I did know one thing, however, and that was that I had had a weird dream.
In the dream I was in another state attending the high school graduation of a cousin. The graduation was in a huge, awkward gym. I’m not entirely sure how gyms can be awkward, unless it was a gym where people work out. Because those gyms are always awkward. Where else on earth can you find people dressed in weird clothing, lifting heavy objects for the sole purpose of destroying their ability to walk up stairs or drink orange juice properly the next day?
Also in this gymnasium were enemies. I’m not sure what kind, but I’m pretty sure they were bad enemies, because enemies are usually bad. It’s possible I added the enemies to the dream after I awoke, similar to removing the face of an ex-girlfriend from a photo in photoshop, except the reverse because I added instead of removed. This could have happened in an attempt to create some sort of real memory which I could associate with the dream, and thus remember it better (though it’s clear I don’t remember it at all).
So in my dream I remember being somewhat confused, as you probably are now. Then, suddenly and without warning, someone magically changed a big sign they were holding up to read, “David Archuleta.” It also said, helpfully, “to the left” with a handy arrow pointing to him.
While I can no longer say that I’ve never dreamed of the American idol from Murray, I will say this much: if it becomes a common occurrence I will buy a gym membership. The reason for this is, naturally, so that I can work out and destroy my ability to ascend the ladder of my loft bed, rendering it impossible to sleep on my bed. This means I will not sleep very often, which means when I slept I would be really tired, which would mean I would dream less because I don’t dream much when I’m really, really tired.
* I have nothing against David Archuleta or his family. I know his parents and have met him as well. They’re all excellent people. I just thought it was funny to have dreamed about him.
Posted by Ryan
December 5, 2008
Low, rumbling noises usually signal a few things. A few of these few things would be: a hungry stomach (or, rather a hungry person whose stomach is reminding them of said hunger), a train, or perhaps a giant who is so big that his stomach apparently never stops rumbling (or is it the footsteps that make the rumbling noise when they approach?).
In my case, I’m pretty certain that I’m not hearing giants, and while I do occasionally hear my stomach rumble, most often the noise is from a train.
If you were standing in my room right now you might ask me to turn the light on. That’s because my light is off. I’m posting this from my iPhone, in the dark, ready to go to bed. So I’d say no, and leave the light off. Having the light off is better for looking out the window, which is what I think you’d want to do if you were here. Why? Because you’d see train tracks. Well, not exactly. You’d see the elevated railway, but not the physical tracks themselves. But you get the point.
So every few minutes I hear a low, rumbling noise in the distance. As it gets closer, it gets louder, as noises have a tendency to do. At night, when I’m laying in my bed, waiting to fall asleep, you might think the trains would keep me awake. On the contrary, I find that the noise helps me fall asle…
