Well, I got a job today. I’ll be one of the web designers for the Mechanical Engineering Department at the University of Texas. It’s kind of ironic. I really wanted to get a job, because for the last year, I’ve been really sick of school (and by sick, I mean it was quite literally driving my crazy). Now I’m no longer going to classes, but I’m working at school. Oh well.

The job is part-time: 19 hours a week. Why 19 and not 20, I’m really not sure. I’m glad it’s part-time, because that means I’ll have time to devote to be able to do movies and plays (my real passion), and work on the new web design company my friend Abinadi and I are starting. Also, since they let me decide on my schedule, I put all my 19 hours on Tuesday through Thursday, so I always have a four-day weekend.

I found the job through my friend, Bryant Moscon. It was actually his job before, but he just got a better job, and they needed someone to replace him. He recommended me, and they jumped at it.

This job probably won’t be the most interesting thing for me to do, but at least it’s something for me to do. I’m glad it didn’t take me long to find it, and that I found it so easily. It’s really nice when things just work well.

When I was a child, I saw an episode of the Batman cartoon in which Bruce Wayne was trapped in a dream created by a machine made by the Mad Hatter. In this episode, Bruce discovers that he is dreaming because he can’t read. He claims that dreaming and reading are functions of opposite hemispheres of the brain, so it’s impossible to read in a dream. I always remembered that episode because I knew it was completely bogus the first time I saw it. I remembered reading in dreams. I knew it was possible. This was just another example of script writers who don’t do proper research.

I was just reminded of this episode when I awoke from a strange dream of my own. In this dream, I was part of some sort of competition. I think it was some sort of church activity and each of the wards were competing against each other. I believe it was an academic competition. There were several parts to it, and each ward had to select just one member to do each part. In one of the parts, we were asked to write a eulogy for a dead dog. Whoever wrote the best one would win. For some reason, I was selected to do this part. I was given biographical information, including a newspaper article that was written about him while he was still alive. There was something famous about this dog, but I don’t remember what. Part of it was his advanced age. He was 19 when he died. As I was working on this eulogy, I wanted to figure out how old he was in dog-years. There was a blackboard in the room they gave us to work, and so I wrote 19 × 7. For some reason, I couldn’t do the math. It didn’t make any sense. I screwed it up, so scratched it out, and started calculating again. I still couldn’t do it. I erased it with my hand, and wrote it again. This old man from one of the other wards was walking by the room, and saw my difficulty. He came in and tried to help. He pointed to what I was doing wrong, but he couldn’t figure it out either!

Then I woke up. This inability to do elementary school mathematics forced me out of my sleep. As soon as I was awake, I did the math in my head, and learned it was 133. Just to make sure I wasn’t crazy, I checked it with a calculator. Of course it was right, it’s a simple calculation, but I couldn’t do it in my sleep! It made me think of poor Bruce being unable to read a book. Though unlike Bruce, who couldn’t even make out the letters, I could clearly see and understand what the numbers were (I wrote them), I just couldn’t do anything with them. It was nearly the most frustrating experience of my life.