little dreams, big dreams

i find that in my real life i'm satisfied with little dreams. i'm not too ambitious in the standard sense of the word. my bucket list: finish organizing the basement. my dream body (meaning one i would like to have): jim belushi. i've got enough to eat, i've got enough house, i don't mind my job, i've got plenty to read, i get to go to the minow a couple times a week, and i am satisfied in my personal and family relationships. i don't even have any issues from childhood to deal with. i hope my cat is able to lose weight, but that's the closest to a real concern i have.

my life is like a willa cather novel, i think (and not just in the way that they often go off in strange directions for a while or the way in which they often include czech characters). if you catalogue the horrible events and tragedies that occur in one of her novels, it looks like the saddest books ever. after reading one, though, there is a sort of peaceful, happy aftertaste.

in nighttime dreams, though, i like big adventure. if i say i dream of being a movie star, i mean at night. i was reading a dream sort of comic in Daniel Clowe's Caricature last night, and i think we dream in the same world--cool discoveries, giant buildings growing out of nowhere, familiar people in unfamiliar places. when i sleep i am highly ambitious. i like to leave town and seek new adventures. during the day, i'm satisfied by vacumming and yelling at the cat until uglywife comes home.