Democracy

I dreamt last night, all night, that I was visiting a shopping mall built for tourists in North Korea. Of course, it was a complete government contrivance, every detail executed, in a transparently spinful and craftless way, in hope of persuading the visiting foreign filth that the people of Pyongyang prosper and purchase Prada, just like the rest of us. This being a dream, though, the logic of the operation wasn't sound. For example, in any real totalitarian government cover-up, even one so preposterous as a faux shopping mall, there would be extras, paid in money, meat, or mercy, to populate the illusion. But the only patrons of this commercioplex were swarms of Americans, mostly giddy tweenyboppers, for some reason.

I don't remember a great deal of it with much clarity, but I do vividly remember popping into a shop which sold high-tech and fashionable goods to North Korea's affluent hipster set. It was completely deserted, save by a solitary old woman behind the counter, who looked quite lonely and weary, and loath to talk much. I noticed that she was using the shop's whizbang crocheting machine to create small squares of personal artwork to entertain herself, and hanging them up all around herself. Very Juche of her.

Throughout the experience, I had the wispy, hairlike, and magenta needles of a North Korean cactus, which I had tried to pet because of its unusual and attractive form, stuck in a couple of my fingers, so when I wasn't craning my neck and gawking at the tragic spectacle around me, I was yanking at these, ripping them out with a feeling like Velcro. It was very entertaining.

I also remember the information kiosks, whose software was as faulty as the goodwill of their attendant, whom I was somehow able to identify as Kim Jong Il's embittered ex-secret-wife. These big flat-panel displays with sleek, organic interfaces were supposed to identify the music being played in the mall, offer directions to any shop, and even answer any question you could ask, but I found them useless beyond the first item (thought I remember really liking the music, even remebering the title and the name of the artist of a particular song, which I have sadly since forgotten), as the shops were depressingly phony and overpriced, and all questions were answered likewise.

I guess there was no real resolution to the dream; it was pretty much like any trip to any mall, but with the added delight of an animatronic Kim Jong Il. I woke up both relieved to be in my new apartment and a bit sad for the crochet lady.

Excuse me now; I have furniture to arrange...triage to perform, as I come to realize with increasing lamentation that my material history now exceeds the spatial capacity of my space.

Starting over. It feels so very good when everything is just the way you've always hoped for.

Today was a fresh start for me. New city, new job, new friends, new way of life entirely; new lease on life.

And while saying goodbye to a lot of wonderful things of the past few years has been painful, I wouldn't regret it for a second. What I've found here with my new company (which has felt more like a family from the moment I walked through the door) is something the tragic corruption of my previous environment had actually convinced me was a naive fantasy. Already, my new boss, who has redeemed the title "Mr. B" for me, has shown a genuine interest in a lot of my ideas which everyone whose opinion mattered at the old company shot down without even reading Page One of my proposals. I finally have a voice. I finally, finally feel what I felt as a student, all those years ago, but had forgotten; I feel like I can make a difference in the real world.

Thanks to everyone who put up with all my complaining and misery, but I'm done with that now. I take back every negative thing I've ever said. Hopefully, I'll be able to find the time to document my day-to-day existence; it'll just depend on whether unfettered joy is as good a motive to update a journal as bottomless misery was ;). If anyone is still interested in the new and improved Amelia, though, I'll offer you this piece of advice before I get to my unpacking (or more likely falling asleep on the softest box I can find): Find your true happiness. You probably knew what that was before you started first grade, and it's waiting for you somewhere. Good luck!

Woww..jetlag and dreams-come-true turn me into such a sap.