Forgive me if I ramble in this letter. I realize that the sections of this effort are completely unrelated other than the fact that they reflect a mind that zips back and forth from one random thought to another. I'm using this letter to put to paper the things I often think about, and to assure myself that I'm indeed normal.

Not to get too longwinded, but these are my flights of imagination and fantasy. These are the pictures and possibilities that run through my mind. Some are unrealistic aspirations, while others could very well happen. I completely identify with the imaginative Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes, except that I'm not six years old.

The Headbanger

I'm the lead singer of a NWOBHM band. (That's a genre of British metal bands that were formed during the mid '70s, such as Judas Priest and Iron Maiden.) I missed those bands at their peak, but once I was old enough to appreciate them, I wanted to sing with them. I think of myself replacing Priest's Rob Halford or Maiden's Bruce Dickinson and Paul Di'Anno. Whenever I feel the need for power, I sing a few numbers, usually when I'm in my car. These are ear-splitting vocals indeed, and — in my mind — have the same tone and vocal range as the original versions! I know it's an impossibility, this lead-singer thing.

Hilde the Golden Retriever

In my mind, there's this dog. Her name is Hilde, and she's my imaginary companion. Hilde is a bouncy golden retriever who goes everywhere with me, and to just imagine her existence makes me smile. Gosh, it's so relaxing — especially when I'm upset — just to think about this dog with me at home, in my car, out in the woods, or at work. I think it's borne out of the fact that I was never allowed to get a dog. Williamstown is a great place for dog owners (as is Tripod). Well, now that I'm done with school and am away from Mom, I sure can make Hilde a reality! Yes, I do have real friends, too.

The Film

There's this movie I've directed, and I can imagine the film's trailers. I haven't gotten around to the story yet, but there are strains of bagpipe music as the opening credits appear onscreen. There are two syllables in the film's title. The setting is Russia, for some reason — not the Scottish highlands. Somehow it feels like a John Le Carre thriller, but I'm not certain about the plot. This mental scene is played each time I watch a particularly great movie. My mind goes, "Hey, I can do that too!" Sure I can. Or so I fantasize.

Främmande Språk

I imagine I'm fluent in almost all languages, especially the Nordic ones. The above phrase with the funny dotted letters means foreign languages in Swedish. I actually do speak six languages, but I'm inspired sometimes to talk animatedly to myself (when alone and upset) in what sounds like a mix of Finnish, Danish, and German. It's actually gibberish — more like Double Dutch (whatever that is), but it kind of makes me feel better. Sure, I could swear at myself in French, but instead I use made-up Teutonic and Scandinavian drivel. Actually, I'm doing okay with my Swedish, and I try to read the news on Svenska CNN. At least that's a start.

If some of you out there have had similar thoughts and fancies, it would be such a comfort to know. Transporting oneself mentally is a good thing. It's almost wonderfully satisfying, and it often makes my day. Trust me, it works. My smiles are proof enough.

— Venkat

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