It's the end of my last day. The fact that I'm officially out of important things I wanted to do makes it a little bit better that I have to leave tomorrow. (It's going to be the longest day ever... 12 hours in airports and on planes, then I need to stay up until it's a reasonable time to sleep, Chicago-wise. Now that I'm finally adjusted to time over here. Adjusted enough, in fact, that I had an absolutely epic dream last night about the Doctor going all vengeful Time Lord and interfering with the past, which delighted me until I realized it was the set-up for me and a group of anonymous friends to star in some kind of Seinfeld-type comedy where all of us were vaguely horrible people and those that we'd wronged in the past showed up at random in various different time periods to have their revenge. There was a guy in black leather boots with crosses on the toes that was after me, because I'd done something to his disabled son. He chased me through ancient Rome, and in a stable in medieval England. Tonight, I think I will probably dream of stairs.)

So, today... Paris learns how to confuse me and earns several cool points, simple questions je ne comprends pas, I see a lot of bones and take a two-hour lunch. )

Lessons Learned: Cities should not rename streets. Catacombs are cool. I have had enough walking for the next year or so. Or at least the next month. Week... at least a day. Minus the walk to the train station tomorrow. And around the airport. Sigh.

I'll admit, I'm actually, just a little, looking forward to getting home and going grocery shopping tomorrow. I have come across so many open-air markets here and I really want groceries. I'm tired of sandwiches and meals-made-by-other-people. As good as they've been, I keep seeing all these fishmongers and produce sellers and someone offered me a bag of mushrooms tonight that I would've gladly turned into something if I, you know, had a kitchen. I wish I could take one of these markets with me, because I know shopping at home just isn't going to be as exciting at all. But at least it'll be food I know the names of, and that I can turn into whatever I want.

Oh, there are also three more pictures for today. There would be a lot more, but I've hit my monthly limit on Flickr. They could use some polish anyway, though, since they were almost all taken underground.

I also sent out the rest of the postcards today. You can expect them... some time after I get back.
evilhippo: hippo (125 [herp derp])
( Sep. 24th, 2010 07:23 am)
This is already slipping from my mind at an alarming rate, but the dream went something like this:

"Terrorists" were occupying large sections of Chicago, but it was one of their holidays and they weren't paying as much attention, so a number of former Chicagoans, myself included, decided to sneak back in and have a look around. The biggest symbol of their occupation was a soda can thumb drive that sat at the top of an escalator in what was probably the Nordstrom's downtown. I went up to it, while people behind me chattered about how there'd been a lot of talk about strategically nuking it, and no one had been brave enough to touch it. I walked up to it, thought "Seriously, could they have irradiated this can and made it that deadly?" and picked it up. It stuck to my hand, I screamed, and threw it down the escalator, then calmly walked over to my apartment, which was up the escalator at Nordstrom's. I went inside and set about making breakfast, knowing that by screaming and destroying their symbolic pop can thumb drive that I was going to get into a lot of trouble. I figured I'd have at least a day, though, because it was a terrorist holiday. But, as I stood at my stove, a little boy came to my door holding a giant rock over his head.

"I'm going to throw this through your window, now" he said.

"Okay," I said, knowing that this was terrorist retribution and I might as well get it over with.

He gave me a confused look, but chucked the rock through my window anyway. I stood next to the stove in a pile of glass, and he continued to stare at me.

"I'm going to verbally abuse you know," he said. I shrugged, he looked confused, said a few hateful things and then wandered off.

Word of my bravery against the terrorist rock-throwing spread among those who were back in Chicago for the holiday, and while I was out for a walk by the lake, hundreds of other people began to gather around in peaceful protest. I found myself shouting instructions to them, like "Don't leave any litter behind!" and "Whatever you do, don't rise to their attacks!" There were police and former soldiers wandering around in swim trunks (they still had their guns, though, which worried me), random families with picnic blankets sat on the rocks, and we were apparently peacefully taking Chicago back (because some kid threw a rock through my window because I destroyed a symbolic can). At which point I decided I'd go for a swim, and woke up.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you defeat the terrorists.
evilhippo: hippo (40 [ellipses])
( Aug. 21st, 2010 02:03 pm)
The details are hazy now, but in my dream last night, the Titanic was a very weighty and important metaphor. Each time I "woke up" it was later in the day (10:37, 11:43, 12:13), and each time I fell asleep again the situation was different, but someone always ended up bringing up something about the Titanic, or something titanic, and it was with great urgency and importance, even though most of the time they couldn't show it, I knew they were trying to communicate something essential to me. When I finally woke up for real, I discovered that it was actually not even 8:00 yet. I still have the vague feeling that "titanic" is very important, but I can't sort out whether it was being used as an adjective or a proper noun.

To whoever is trying to plant ideas in my brain... you're not very good at it yet?

Or I'm just too clever for them. I was sitting behind the courthouse Thursday afternoon, people-watching (the courthouse is fantastic for this. People sometimes show up for court in the most ridiculous things. Snuggies, pants that say "Hello, I am: Wasted"... I recently saw a woman who seemed to have one of those styrofoam-ball and wire solar systems stuck under her shirt, bobbing around her waist, and she was being followed at a respectable distance, but still quite obviously, by a uniformed officer. I was really curious about that one.) But anyway, there's always been a fairly significant contingent of people who are wearing various sports jerseys, and they've always perplexed me, partly because they're standing in a sea of suits and other formal-wear (the same reason the snuggies and awkward pajama pants stand out), but also because they're clearly employees at the courthouse, and it's weird to imagine some part of the courthouse where people just hang around in sports jerseys, especially at a rate so much higher than you see normally. They all carried themselves similarly, they walked out with some obvious purpose, and they all wore the same sort of pants. And then it hit me. The jerseys weren't worn inside the courthouse. They were worn on break so people wouldn't see their police badges. It's so obvious now! Jerseys are innocuous, but easy to put on over a uniform and take off quickly. I wonder if police/security do this outside of Chicago, or even away from the courthouse. It's no wonder, though... around the courthouse in the rabble of lost tourists, people with court dates, and nosy people like me eating their lunch... you don't want to go flashing your badge if you're not on duty. Anyway, I felt rather clever after that. Not too long after I pieced it together, as if to confirm my theory, a squat-ish rounded man with a mustache came out with his jersey still unbuttoned and I could see the glint of his badge. Until he noticed me staring (and probably grinning proudly) and gave me a weird look and hurried away. The amount of time it took me to figure this out is probably downright shameful, but I still feel proud that I figured this out.
Right. You know those incredibly stupid days that are always at the start of young adult novels, where the protagonist has something important planned and it's about 7:45 in the morning and they're having this odd dream where they're a werewolf in a school full of other urban legend creatures and the janitor, who they thought was their friend, has abandoned them in the vampire hall with a tin of lip gloss that absolutely proves they're a werewolf and all the vampires hate werewolves but there's one vampire that actually happens to like that kind of lip gloss after all so they become friends. Then it's suddenly 8:15 and the protagonist wakes up and in the middle of a great big lazy Saturday stretch they realize that it is, in fact, Friday and have to take a flying leap out of their loft bed, nearly breaking their ankle in the process, and get dressed in about ten minutes flat and call their boss to apologize for running late and of course they don't give an excuse because, forgive them, they've only been up for about ten minutes and their head is still full of vampires and werewolves (and where did that come from anyway?) so they bike like mad to the bus and the bike rack on the first bus is impossibly stuck and so they have to wait for the next bus which is ten minutes later and doesn't get as close to work either, and they don't get in to the office until after nine and really this protagonist would've just called off except she was the only one in her department because someone had just quit on absolutely no notice and the other person was out on vacation and threatening so send photos of waterslides just to rub it in, and the protagonist had to be downtown anyway for the something important she had scheduled so it was really a giant cluster-eff-star-star-star (because you can't say that word in young adult books) and in reality she'd told her boss that she was going to leave at 11:30, but that had been before she found out the something important was downtown and not an hour and a half away by train, so she told her boss she'd leave at 12:30 instead to make up the time she'd missed except everyone caught wind of the fact that she was still in the office and apparently alive and therefore capable of doing whatever menial task they demanded so she didn't get out of the office until 12:50 which gave her ten minutes to run the three blocks to the something important, except she'd transposed the numbers in the street address so she was looking for a building that didn't exist and finally at 12:59 she ran into a building that had approximately a right number and it turned out to be the one. Then she attended the something important and it was marginally enlightening and she spent some time picturing herself in one of several glamorous potential professions until they completely failed to explain how she could justify spending $80,000 on an education that would, quite probably, land her a job that would pay a maximum of $40,000 a year, which kind of put a damper on that plan, at least for a little while, and then as the something important drew to a close her attention kept wandering back to work because, though she'd planned to take the entire afternoon off and stick around at the session to ask pertinent questions and hobnob, there were mountains of files at work that no one else would take care of because everyone else was vacationing or had quit and she didn't want to come in on the weekend again. So she had to sprint back to work and in the end even though her bosses had already docked her pay for taking the half-day she ended up working all but two and a half hours of the day, and one of those hours should've been her lunch anyway, which she didn't get. Also, you can tell this is a young adult book because, even though the protagonist is employed, there are vampires and werewolves all this takes place on a Friday the 13th, just to make sure you know Bad Luck is involved.

Goshdarn terrible young adult literature. (Give me my normal author back! What did you do, sack them because they made me happy for a couple of days? And seriously, where did that dream even come from?)
The last couple of days have been great for city-dwelling tourism. Why? Well, the weather's been fantastic (though hot). And, well, they destroyed part of North Michigan Avenue:

Destruction!

And you know, despite the fact that this is for Transformers 3 and I can't do anything to stop them it's also really, really cool. Parts of lower Michigan are dressed up too (including part of the riverwalk), there's an overturned bus wedged between two buildings on Wacker just west of here, there are several lots full of fake rubble. And they set their base camp up... basically in a hole. It looks like a parking lot there, but it's actually one story down, so it is literally like a zoo. There are people gathered all along the upper railing staring down hoping to get a glimpse of the actors. Yesterday we got to see Patrick Dempsey leave his trailer, get screamed at by countless women, wave, disappear into his trailer again, and then come out and wave and go to the set. How exciting? But really, watching everyone else was amazingly weird. Also, it was worth it for the conversation my friends and I had about ten feet away from the crowd, in which we failed to remember which medical show Patrick Dempsey was on, then, once we figured that out, one of us kept insisting that the "Mc" he was was "McSweeney." From there we were able to segue beautifully into Optimus Prime's insurance claims.) We also ran into some Shia LeBoeuf fangirls underground next to the base camp itself, holding signs. I'm still not entirely sure I won't go back today with a sign that says something like "Love me, Optimus!" so I can stand next to them and alter the creepy factor slightly.

As you can see from the picture, I was able to secure a pretty awesome view thanks to a friend's office. There is also a video of the explosions we witnessed (sadly, we missed the base jumpers off the Trump tower), but it may never see the light of day simply because our unwitting commentary was so embarrassingly nerdy (we didn't know that one us had actually been taping as soon as they started adjusting the cameras. It's five minutes long, includes us failing to name actors properly, and parts of it actually bear comparison with double rainbow). It also may never see light of day because Paramount thinks films of them filming their film are copyright infringement. Regardless, if I get a hold of it, I'll definitely share. If there's one thing that belongs on the internet, it's terrible nerdy commentary. Paired with explosions.

Unfortunately, all this nerdy activity yesterday actually gave me a nightmare last night (either that or it was the migraine I had in the evening...). I dreamed that I was actually watching this movie (which I realize I'm going to have to do now), and after the credits, where things like Iron Man hide the teasers for the sequel, the camera zoomed up into this executive high-rise and slowly the whorp-whorp sound of the TARDIS started (I looked around the theater, put my face in my hands and said "Oh no"), then it appeared and out hopped three poorly-casted American actors who were supposed to be Nine, Rose and Jack (I think Nine was played by Shia LaBoeuf, and his jacket didn't fit at all). Jack took a look around, said "But the Fifth was the Sixth" with a hint of ominous premonition and then it faded to black. Then all the fanboys tried to kill me while explaining why having Doctor Who cross over into the Transformers universe was actually okay and I tried to run away into this epic rainstorm that destroyed most of Kenwood plaza (at which point dream-me went "Oh no, I'd better do my grocery shopping before this gets completely destroyed!" so part of the rest of the dream was me picking up various things I needed from Hyde Park Produce).

Oh right, um... spoilers for Transformers 3. Sorry.
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evilhippo: hippo (91 [reading])
( Feb. 6th, 2010 04:45 pm)
I've been having trouble lately putting together what's up with my dreams. Usually it's just so cracked-out and insane I don't have to question it, or it's cracked-out and insane but relevant in a way that makes sense. Lately I've been having dreams that are really, really vividly real and scary/stressful in very strangely banal ways. For example, I had a dream a few days ago that I was... I actually don't remember what I was doing, but it involved working outside of a school cafeteria well after dark, and as I was walking down the sidewalk on my way into the school I remembered that when I filled out my volunteer paperwork for the Chicago Public Schools I'd forgotten that I actually had been convicted of a felony. The rest of the dream was existential angst about how nice it'd be if it was all a dream and I hadn't really been convicted of a felony, and resigning myself to making my case to the principal about the oversight and having to get fingerprinted in order to keep volunteering, and feeling really guilty and embarrassed for whatever it was I'd done. My dream was very vague on the details of my felony, but it seems to have had something to do with my job. Why, of all the things to worry about in the CPS volunteer paperwork my subconscious thinks I've forgotten about a felony conviction, I don't know. Unless it's a metaphor for me having tuberculosis and not knowing it or something.

And then, the night before last I had a dream that my bosses had hired someone new, probably an attorney, who had taken it upon themselves to antagonize everyone at work that I liked. There wasn't much to it that I can remember, except that most of us were by the copy machine when she came in and tried to slap one of the other girls. I confronted her and launched into this embarrassingly terrible speech about how I didn't want to be, but I was responsible for these people and if she wanted to make their lives miserable she was going to have to answer to me and I could get her into a lot of trouble. And then I apologized for how corny the speech I'd just made was, because I was also terrified of her and knew that not only could she get me into just as much trouble, she was also going to laugh at me for trying to be all noble.

That one's a little easier to work out, I guess, given the current situation at work (which has devolved into a situation where a lot of people are passive-aggressively duking it out middle-school style, with back-stabbing and tattling). But why the fake antagonist? And why was I so afraid of them? (Why can I not stop dreaming about work?!) I am not a fan of this development. I want my Batman v. Cold Query dreams back!

And then there are mornings like today, when I woke up from seemingly no dream at all, and the first thought in my mind was "Of course! He'd be the Doctor!" Sigh.
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I woke up this morning at 6:11 and, finding this an utterly silly time to be awake, I went back to sleep. Somehow, between 6:11 and 6:46, I managed to have this dream:

I was in a large, climate-controlled dome and was raiding with [livejournal.com profile] linen and [livejournal.com profile] lisiche. LARP-raiding. There was a giant pool in the center that we had to fight our way to, and I kept complaining that I wasn't fully-levelled yet, so our crazy raid leader (who was someone I didn't know at all) kept dragging us on side quests down to the bottom of the pool, and I was constantly having to hold my breath, because it had been so long since I'd raided I forgot that I had sandals that allowed me to breathe under water. The other mystery person in the raid (the only male) gave me a lot of crap for this, and kept complaining about how I was a bad healer.

Eventually we made our way out of a bottom exit into this mall area, where there were a ton of people queuing for a Pokemon movie. This was our final goal, so we split up to wait until the line got shorter. The lobby had x-ray machines and security check-points like an airport, and all the Pokemon fans were moving through them slowly, sometimes stopping to heckle me for not having a ticket, since it was going to be the first-ever showing of the movie in the US, and even if I wanted to go, it was too late to get clearance to see it. And then... they started showing the previews, so everyone who had tickets rushed into the theatre. I was standing by one of the x-ray machines, and the previews started to play on the monitor. The title of the first movie was something like "Burning Red" and it started with a slow pan over the desert that ended on Samuel L. Jackson, looking disheveled and long-haired standing next to a baggage claim. There was nothing else in the desert. He grinned, and the camera panned down on the tan leather luggage coming down the conveyor. The legs of an FMA military action figure were visible, and when the luggage hit the edge, plastic Hughes and plastic Roy fell out onto the desert sand. Except they were tiny and shockingly real-looking, and Hughes turned to shake his fist at the sky, until a Hummer blew by and they froze back into plastic, which was followed by this weird molecular-level montage supposedly explaining the transition from real to plastic an back. I woke up wondering why so many interpretations of Hughes get angry at fate.

I... kind of would watch that movie? Also, it's amazing that after so long, Samuel L. Jackson still lurks in my mind as a tormentor of Hughes. And I don't even have an explanation for the airport theme, the Pokemon movie, or the LARP raiding.

But at least it wasn't half an hour of trying to fit pita bread into a toaster. I think if my subconscious ever pulls that on me again, I'm going to have it removed.

Edit: So, I had another dream about a giant line for a Pokemon movie. I'm wondering if this is becoming a theme. It was between trying to get my mom to pay for her half of the groceries for our apartment, and exploring a giant abandoned 1800s apartment complex with my dad, which apparently housed vagrants, a few directionally-confused tourists, and the cast of Grey's Anatomy. I kept finding items that would let my sister skip in line, until she finally got in and I lost her. I don't know if I should worry more about all the lines, or all the Pokemon movies I've missed. I wonder if "Pokemon Movie" is some kind of metaphor for something in life that everyone else is getting to go to. Hmm....
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I'm still trying to figure out exactly what precedes the awful headaches I get this time of year. This morning I woke up from a dream that started out being about some kind of haunted house, in which I was tasked with platformer videogame-style tasks centering around these evil snakes that lived in the basement. I had a familiar that was some kind of dung beetle, and it was always getting lost. After I went down to the basement the first time and ran away, I was met upstairs by someone who wanted to know if I was going to the Andrew Bird concert on Thursday. I said yes, and they did some kind of maniacal breakdown of the math, somehow proving that buying tickets would be evil. I ignored this, and from there somehow ended up on a giant stage in an orchestra, attempting to play my flute, with Andrew Bird directing. I hadn't been given any music, and I kept trying to ask him what we were playing, and whether we were going to tune our instruments first, but he wouldn't give me more than a fraction of a second of attention at a time, and [livejournal.com profile] deathscytheheck and the rest of the west-coasters were there, heckling me for joining the orchestra even though I'm a terrible singer.

I'm not sure this had anything to do with my headache. I think it may have more to do with the snow we've been getting. But I'm writing this down anyway, just in case. (It's also nearly the full moon, and more often than not these headaches line up with them in the spring and the fall. Which may or may not be a weirder cause than platformer videogame/failing at being in an orchestra dreams.) I'm just going to be grateful for now that it only took a two-hour nap after work to get this one down to a manageable pain level.

Aaaand I finally bought seeds today! We'll see if I can get anything big enough to live outside. In theory, I'll have some basil, tomatoes, peas, and a lot of sunflowers. I think it'd be fun to have the peas climb the sunflowers, but then they'd need a pretty big headstart, so I may just have the peas climb my railing. Is there anything else I should be growing, that'll bear fruit/be edible/be pretty before the end of August? I was going to do corn, to add to the "too tall to be grown on a porch" theme, but the next tenants would just get it.
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evilhippo: hippo (72 [word])
( Feb. 8th, 2008 10:31 am)
So, the last thing I remember in my dream this morning (before my alarm woke me up at 9 because I forgot to reset it from Wednesday) was seeing my high school geometry teacher and thinking "He's here, so everyone in this building can't be evil!" I think I was being chased through a hotel by a slew of evil math teachers. Ironically, I hated geometry most in high school (until calc at least, which I've repressed), but the teacher is my friend's father-in-law now, so I figured he'd protect me.

The most vivid thing I remember from this dream, though, is shouting "LEEROY JENKINS" out my old dorm window at a guy riding a giant inflatable brontosaurus on the lake. He shouted it back and made the rock on sign at me, and I gave him the thumbs up. Remembering this now makes me vaguely wary that I actually shouted "Leeroy Jenkins!" in my sleep.
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evilhippo: hippo (41 [indescribable])
( Jan. 16th, 2008 10:23 pm)
This morning I woke up with the worst headache in the world. (Okay, the worst headache I've had in recent memory.) All through my sinuses and down to my shoulders with a bonus sore throat and nauseousness. It was bad. This headache... if you gave it to a giraffe and assumed that pain over a greater area would hurt hurt less, the giraffe would still have had to lie down. It possibly would have cried. Basically, I'm considering myself lucky that I got to sleep at around 2:30 last night, and thus managed almost a full night's unperturbed sleep before this thing hit. I spent between 10:00 and about 3:15 in bed half-awake, having semi-delirious dreams about living in a purple-painted cottage on Chicago and Grand in the middle of all the industrial buildings when the world was ending and the cast of BSG was hanging around and Laura Roslin was in lingerie and there was a clone of Chief Tyrol that was telling me how he hoped the world didn't end because he didn't want to have to take the Chief's place. This concerns me a bit, since apparently my subconscious has a certain grasp of BSG canon. The lingerie is also worrying, but for a different reason. I also woke up for a while at one point and was convinced that I had brain cancer and had lost the ability to have any sort of emotions. Those sorts of delirious thoughts should not be remembered, brain.

And so basically when I dragged myself out of bed one of the few coherent thoughts in my head was "The only thing that would redeem this morning would be my headphones getting here." And they did! I've needed new headphones for several months now, and finally gave in and ordered these on Monday. (They weren't supposed to get here until Saturday. Ah, Chicago. I bet you have an Amazon shipping facility right here. Two-day shipping for nothing, woo.) Aside from looking kind of like I have hubcaps on my head, they're quite nice. It turns out songs have bass and treble. I'd forgotten about that. Aaand now I'm going to get all picky and have to adjust the volume on my MP3s because it's become painfully obvious how uneven they all are. Oh! Oh, and these headphones? They're not noise-cancelling, so I can still hear things (which is something I require) but... guess what? I don't have to turn them up to hear them on the train. Considering my last pair were earbuds and I still had to do that, that's pretty amazing. They also have a two-year warranty, so if I kill them after a year of wear-and-tear like I've done to the last three pairs of iPod headphones I've had, I can get them replaced! (I should post a picture of the shape my old headphones are in. They've got scotch tape on them. Not as bad as the pair I had to duct tape, though.) I think I'm going to love these. Once I figure out why they keep tripping my iPod off like they've fallen out.
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evilhippo: hippo (44 [hmm])
( May. 29th, 2007 06:26 am)
I set my alarm for five this morning, and couldn't get myself moving until now because of one thing: I needed to work on my papers, but I couldn't work out how to cite a personal website. Because somehow Dekker and Middleton were on the internets, and writing about what I needed to know. Also, there was some website about my super powers that I couldn't get to, so I kept feeling like getting up and doing actual work was completely useless. Nothing quite like being just awake enough to know you're awake and need to be doing work, but completely unable to tell what that actually entails.

And now I'm awake and I've got another two hours to get this paper in order. Here's hoping.
evilhippo: hippo (51 [silhouette])
( May. 9th, 2007 10:00 am)
It took me two hours to fall asleep last night. That's... not good. Then I had a dream about a menacing, evil rat/possum that was in league with this pirate's monkey that lived in my building's basement and hated me. I had to chase the possum around my room... at first it was a mouse, and I think I said "aww" and let it go... then it was a rat, and it was trying to bite me, so I caught it and tried to carry it down the stairs. Eventually it became a possum and tried even harder to bite me, then it escaped from the bag I had it in and there were too many people in front of me for me to be able to chase it down the stairs. Then I got downstairs, but it couldn't get outside unless someone opened the door, and I said something like "even the monkey couldn't do it," and the monkey got mad and tried to eat my face or something.

Probably a manifestation of my stress. I'm going to see an apartment today, hopefully. It's pretty cheap, and in a wonderful location. So... I guess we'll see. I'm surprised my bad dreams don't center around me having no credit and no savings or income (at the moment) to speak of. They probably will after today.

Looking for a job is hard. I've found one job that I really want, that I'd keep... and a lot of crap jobs that I don't want, but could stand to work for a year or so in exchange for being able to support myself. And as long as they pay me $10/hr, or I work more than 30 hours a week, I can survive at least until my loans come due. It's doable... I'll live... this won't be fatal. It just won't be pleasant for a while. I can live with that.

I think I inherited all this worrying from my mom...
This paper is now nine minutes late. Aaaand it's really nowhere near done, since I decided this morning, after a dream in which Rescom was actually a timetravel organization and my mom forced K-Fed to kiss me for Valentine's Day (cursing me with bad luck forever and the amazing ability to travel to the future and return 30 seconds later five years older and with a bad haircut), my thesis didn't really fit with the rest of the paper the way it was organized at the time. So I've been rewriting it in the Reg for the past... hour. If I hadn't taken that extra nap, it probably would've been done on time, but probably not very good, since I was well-near exhausted before I gave in and took a nap, which severely hindered my ability to make good decisions regarding organization and arguments. Bah. Papers. Too much writing. Adding everything together, I've written 46 pages in the past five days, not counting things I wrote and then erased, which would probably add another ten pages at least. Plus outlines. Omg. No wonder I'm braindead. When I get back tonight, I'm going to sleep for a day.
Dearest Me,

It dost not please me to vex you again so soon, dear self, with letters,
but methinks it would not be forward of me to suggest
when thou findst thyself in repose, thou shouldst voyage not in thy mind
to the realm of dreaming whilst thy thought persists in poetic measure.
Tis not a habit befits one of two and twenty in writing natural
much less in subconscious venture.

Do think upon this, self, afore thou nap'st next,
else fair insanity's hand upon thy head shall alight
ne'er sparing thee her plunder nor her plight.

Zounds!
- Me

Nevermind that badly conjugated formal English != iambic pentameter. I've only had five hours of sleep today. And part of that was in meter, so it doesn't count.
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evilhippo: hippo (34 [sleepy])
( Jan. 16th, 2007 11:27 am)
So, I semi-accidentally slept through my 9:00 class this morning, and managed to have a dream that I was actually a part of the second chapter of my novel. Only, not, because this second chapter was kind of... Battlestar Galactica Animorphs World of Warcraft. And I'll be the first to say that's kind of... wrong. One should not, even in their dreams, have to argue with Lee Adama about troop deployment in Blackrock Depths (please forgive me for knowing random instances, I watch my sister play entirely too much). One should not have to climb a random tree during retreat and then morph into a dragonfly in order to... spy and be a helicopter, I think, was the justification. (This morph actually appeared to be me as myself, with my hands up by my eyes to represent the compound eyes of the dragonfly.) And after we won or gave up or something, I was reading over my novel and realized that I'd accidentally written the second chapter all in first person, since I'd been going through it myself. I think I decided that, since it was the rough draft, it didn't matter too much. (Apparently it didn't occur to me that it might be a problem that chapter two had absolutely nothing in common with chapter one.) I'm not sure what this says about my current state of mind... obviously I am in the process of freaking out about the 20 pages I have due tomorrow, but the freaking-out isn't as severe as it could be, since I somehow pounded out six pages yesterday that I didn't actually expect to get done. At all. So, as long as the muses smile upon me tonight I might not have to be awake at all hours. Though I probably will be, because 20 is the minimum and there's a lot more I could write in these two chapters. And I need three sitcom proposals for tomorrow morning.

Which leads me to my current dilemma. I'm feeling a wee bit overwhelmed right now, class-wise. Mostly because once I hit next week, I've got two papers a week due for three weeks in a row, and they're all 6+ page papers. Then I've got a week off and two papers eighth week. After this week, I won't have to be as intense about my seminar since it's all revising from here on out, but my TV writing class is going to keep me pretty busy. I need my Shakespeare class, so I can't let that go. I want to write for TV at some point, so I can't let that go. I've decided there's no way on earth I'm dropping my BA now, so I can't let that go. Which leaves me my Literature of the Fantastic class. Which has quite a few strikes against it already: it's at nine in the morning, I have no idea what to expect grading-wise, and it's kind of scattered, as far as I can see, in terms of goals. Plus the whole Russian thing, where I don't speak or read it at all and the prof seems to expect that most of us can. And if I let it go, I wouldn't have any more doubled-up papers. On the other hand, I prefer to have four classes. And if I take it and do well, I'm set for my English major in terms of courses and don't have to worry one bit about not graduating. Plus I want to take four classes. I'm not sue, though, if this isn't me being foolish, because this really isn't the quarter to do it if I want to have time to look for a job, too. So I'm really, thoroughly torn. I really like the concept of the class. And if I want to drop it, I have to do it by the end of this week. What ever am I to do? (I finally have a quarter where all of my classes work out from the start, and I want to drop one. Figures, doesn't it?)

I also have stories about this weekend at some point. They're even illustrated. But writing/revising/other homework comes first. So unfortunately all you'll probably know is that Paper Nietzsche had dinner with me and ten other people, and there are seats on the L specially reserved for Cylons. Oh, and Pan's Labyrinth was a good movie, but I'm still not sure how I feel about it, in terms of the ending. Definitely worth seeing, though. Unless you're really weak against violence. Because... owww. Several times severely ow. (Also, more movies should just be subtitled.)
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evilhippo: hippo (14 [determination])
( Oct. 24th, 2006 11:50 pm)
Here we go again. My laptop's been shipped, it should be here again tomorrow or Thursday. I'm going to be hoping... hoping so much that it comes back to me in working order. Because I hate these labs a lot. Especially since there are people in here that will greet you with a scowl more often than anything remotely friendly. What gives, people?

Oh, and this morning? I had some kind of bizarre dream that I was trying to find Osama bin Laden, and I found him hanging out up in Belmont with Saddam, but they knew I was on to them, and this strange Russian shop-lady had to save me and let me hide behind this rather large hat and/or shoe in her store while Osama browsed around and Saddam stood outside looking shady or possibly like the boyfriend that doesn't want to go into the lingerie store. There was some large thing involving a parking garage, too. And going home to Kentucky (which isn't home) in an SUV. I think the mind-rays have finally gotten to me. It is a bit bizarre, having a war-or-terrism dream so close to elections. Incidentally on the day after I filled out my absentee ballot application. Suspicous... Goshdarn Republican mind rays. I do not care that Osama and Saddam are out to get me in my dreams, I think Ohio should have a governor that doesn't rig elections, and unless you find a more interesting, less obvious way to subvert my subconscious, I will not give in!

(Oh, and if there is a less obvious way to subvert my subconscious, kindly avoid it. Because then I wouldn't know what was going on, and it'd scare me.)

(Note to my future self: If you believe this entire entry is a lie, they've gotten to you! Save yourself before it's too late!)
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Things I have done tonight for the sake of not doing my paper:
- Taken a very long shower
- Repainted my toenails (contemplated painting them in greyscale next time, which I will look into this week because I am just that odd)
- Went to study break
- Played DDR
- Took photos of people playing DDR with the excuse I was "trying to get motion blur"

And now I'm working up an intense hate of these lab computers, to the point that I don't think I'm going to be able to write my paper down here anyway. Because I'm that picky. (Is a functional shift key too much to ask?) Oh, how I want my laptop back. But I've promised myself that if I finish this paper at a reasonable time tonight, I'm gonna go downtown tomorrow morning, or possibly afternoon, and get photo supplies and pick up random groceries where it's cheaper (yep... cheaper groceries downtown... wtf?). Here's to hoping this is a pay week.

While I'm here, though um... anyone think they can explain to me how I had a dream involving Avatar when I haven't seen the show? Because I did last night and... I mean, even excluding the bit that involved House treating that big furry thing in someone's dorm room, it was freaking weird.

Edit 1 [1:31]: Trying to recruit homunculi into any organized religion that promises eternal paradise for the soul has got to be such a difficult sell. And hey look, I've got a paragraph written. About freaking time!

Edit 2 [1:51]: Mmm, I love tearing stories apart like this. There's always so much more there than just the surface meaning. This guy has some lovely neuroses about names. I love it. (Raymond Carver's "Cathedrals", for anyone keeping track of what I'm reading.) It doesn't even matter if it's from the author or the narrator, because it's there and it becomes a part of the meaning of the story. This is why I'm so amused by this stuff. As long as you're thinking and you're careful, you can pull almost anything out of it. It's just that lots of people aren't careful, and then they annoy me because in class they'll say things that are in blatant conflict with the characterization in the story or project random modern stereotypes onto the characters and it annoys me, then I feel all pretentious for being annoyed because I don't like to sit there and think that other people are wrong. (Obviously, it's nearly two in the morning and I should be in bed. But goshdarnit, I will have two pages written before I go to bed tonight so I can print it out and edit it on the bus or something when I go downtown tomorrow morning.)
evilhippo: hippo (38 [what?])
( Aug. 25th, 2006 01:14 pm)
You know, in the absence of anything else entertaining lately, my dreams have been getting weirder and weirder. And more vivid. I was thoroughly confused about where I was when I woke up this morning, and had to lay in bed for an extra hour to get myself readjusted. And I thought it was weird Monday night when I had a dream about being trapped in a maze with Pyramid Head (well, not entirely... Pyramid Head and/or Johnny Truant had been drawing on the maze with a giant sword 8.32 feet up on the wall, and I was investigating it with CSI until we were in this Jeep being driven by Bailey from Grey's Anatomy and got into an accident, and I must've died or something because I ended up on this grey stormy beach and there was something about Roy Mustang getting over Hughes by proving he could jump farther than him. ... Yeah.)

A dream in which the South is very confusing )

So, in conclusion... subconscious, wtf was that? Must I really be in a floating house on a river haunted by ghosts and be thoroughly convinced that that was where I was staying for the next forever until I woke up in my bed? (And even then, it took me almost a minute to figure out I was in my room, because it felt like I was facing the wrong direction...)

Also, my mom just called me, and I literally jumped when I heard the phone ring. Not good. I am so not used to dreams that actually freak me out.
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evilhippo: hippo (41 [indescribable])
( May. 3rd, 2006 12:34 pm)
I wonder if it's worth looking into why my nightmares always invovle things going wrong with computers? I can have thoroughly bizarre and conventionally scary dreams and not have them fall under the nightmare category... somehow the terrifying ones involve computers. Take last night's for example. Fairly normal dream. Until I was talking to my mom about updating the mac I'd gotten to do some sort of homework assignment that required a special filetype or something. It'd been several thousand dollars, then apple kept charging me hundreds of dollars to update the OS. I was sitting there looking at the webpage, watching the totals climb as it went through each bit of updating (kind of like Windows update) and calling my mom desperately when it went over what I had in my bank account. Then I had to apologize to her for several minutes, because updating the system had cost nearly as much as the computer, and she yelled something at me about betraying my first computer and I felt really bad, even though I'm pretty sure I hadn't had any choice in the mac affair.

That's right, I had a nightmare about betraying my PC and being punished for it.

I don't even actively take sides in the mac/PC debate! (The new mac vs PC ads are even sort of cute. And I only had to shake my head disapprovingly once per 30 seconds, as opposed to constantly.)

The night before last I had a dream that there was some sort of giant spider trying to kill me, as well as some evil syndicate running a sort of underground (as in caves) mafia, who was going to catch the kid we'd turned into a parakeet or falcon or some cross of the two. We called him Wand for some reason, and then realized that, because of the yearbook we had, the mafia was going to attack this poor kid named Aaron Wanderer, because he was a falconer or something, and his last name had Wand in it, so it seemed like he'd be the one we were using to spy. And had I not been busy trying to figure out how this tiny tunnel for fourth graders underneath a giant tunnel for Indiana Jones-style rolling rocks of doom could help us escape, I would've felt more sorry for him, really. Oh, and there was some bit with the 7th floor RA serving buns in the morning while I was waiting for the bus to class (even though I was running almost an hour late). And the worst part of this dream was not the mafia, giant spiders, or rolling rocks of doom. It was that I was late for class.

I think my priorities are a bit out of order...
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