The volunteer California Poppies are poppin' off, and my new succulent garden is a GEM. I love that thing.
At the crux of this post is the fact that I've been having crazy and stressful dreams lately. The first one I chalked up to eating a really salty pizza right before bed, which typically causes insane but mostly nonsensical dreams that I remember for about ten minutes when I wake up but then forget. The second took my by surprise last night despite a healthy early dinner, and a reasonable bedtime.
Now, I know listening to other people talk about their dreams can be excruciatingly boring so I'll limit any and all description to one sentence per dream:
Dream 1 (the pizza dream): I somehow ended up at a party with Guillermo del Toro and Alex Hirsch (creator of the wonderful TV show Gravity falls) who were both incredibly friendly and genuinely interested in me, and yet I spent the entire time terrified about and wondering when they were going to realize that I wasn't supposed to be there.
Dream 2: My dad and I were going to go out boating on a lake (don't ask, I have no idea...) in Alex Hirsch's catamaran yacht (again, don't ask...) he had given us for the day, and while I thought I knew what I was doing I quickly discovered I didn't. As soon as I had the realization I didn't know what I was doing a huge storm blew in the whole lake turned into a whirlpool that sucked me down; I woke up as my Dad was trying to save me.
(I know that dream 2 description is two and a half sentences. Sue me.)
I don't want to beat it to death (besides, Netflix might be back up and I'm wasting time here!), but I think I'm terrifically stressed out about my qualifier that I turned in on Monday. It seems appropriate the Neil Gaiman also tweeted a link to a Slate article about how "imposter syndrome" is a normal part of development for most people. In that first dream I was just constantly waiting for someone to find out that I wasn't supposed to be there, and the second was the genuinely upsetting fallout from finally realizing that I didn't actually know what I was doing only to, *siiiiiggh*, be rescued by a parent. Sheesh. I mean, maaaybe I'm ascribing meaning where there isn't any, but it seems preeeeetty effing on-point.
More-so, while it was recently suggested that I have a "man crush" on Alex Hirsch (which I will not even pretend to deny), I think it's more that I see him as what I hope to be in three years (30 years old and creative, original, successful, kinda weird, wears a lot of flannel, pretty good beard, etc... why? What do you look up to people for?) and I'm terrified that I WON'T get there. Specifically I'll go down in major flames in the process.
I won't pretend that I fancy myself to be on par with the Alex Hirsches and Guillermo del Toroes of this world, but it just seemed important to put this all down tonight. I probably won't go down in flames, but I think as much as I fear that, I also fear fading into mediocrity and obscurity. Maybe it's a young-person thing, but I think we all kinda fear that.
Eh, I dunno guys. I don't have any answers tonight. Just more questions. But hey, here's a bunch of code I wrote today that does adaptive filtering of raw CT data on the GPU to remove streak artifacts:
Here's an example of what it does: