Nov. 20th, 2015 07:37 am
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in my dream my family had this truly enormous shaggy brown dog with undocked ears/tail, it was adorable and sweet and gentle and I loved it, but somehow everyone in this dream-world incl. me thought that it was a bison. that was just what bison were in this dream, I guess. big soulful brown dogs.

also the rabbis in town were having a debate over whether I should be allowed to fly to services on the sabbath. it was eventually concluded that it was no different from walking, if flying was simply an ability that I had naturally. which it was. which was good, because the ground was teeming with snakes and lizards and I didn’t want to step on any.

there was a mechitza at this dream-synagogue. the women’s side was on the roof. it was pretty nice though because we could watch the tide come in.

Jul. 3rd, 2015 04:12 am
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I’m not moving out until the end of the month and the packing nightmares have already begun
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So Paul opened the back door and the kitchen windows, to let in a bit of breeze, while I was still asleep. Which means that the birdsong was very loud and the air smelled very outdoors, which meant that in my dream I was camping outside in a lovely wild canyon.

I was also Boromir, but I've been dreaming as Boromir since I was fourteen or so. I do not think people actually realize just how often my subconscious takes it for granted that I am actually Boromir.

Well, sort of they do. My friends have also been waking me up by yelling BOROMIR GONDOR NEEDS YOUR SWORD for just about as long.


now the wind is blowing everything off the kitchen table. I am ignoring it and will deal with the mess later.

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tw: body horror )

I keep trying to find something cheerful to talk about here, to balance that out, but I've only just woken up so nothing else has happened yet.

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I keep trying to look up the words & conjugations to make sure their Hebrew was correct

Have no resources with which to do so really

and gosh whatever facility I ever had in reading has long since been lost

not that it was ever any good really

would "hagen!" be the imperative for "defend" or "protect?"

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Usually when I start a sentence with "when I was little," it goes something like "I did x ridiculous stupid thing that is probably adorable in a five-year-old, as long as there is an adult around to extinguish the flames." And then one of my friends asks for clarification of the exact time frame, clearly dreading the answer and wondering if they are better off not knowing, because it's really never cute in a 22-year-old married adult (ho**** wtf wtf wtf).

(yeah, the "married" thing, that's still hella weird. I keep being all "what a beautiful ring I have acquired! Sparkly sparkly sparkly sparkly sparkly sparkly I'M MARRIED OH DEAR ERU ILUVATAR ABOVE WHAT IS GOING ON?" until I get distracted by the sparkly ring again just out of self-preservation.)

But no, the moving nightmares are firmly a thing of my early childhood. Simple nightmares didn't happen after first grade. Once I got old enough to recognize things like narrative arcs, nightmares stopped being things like "my snake puppet was trying to bite me!" and became things like "Paul gets zapped by alien rays that make him too smart to want to talk to normal humans" or "Paul's father's physics lecture hall, through which I am leading my elementary-school students, is invaded by evil flying clouds of glitter bent on turning us all into colorfully painted marble statues" or "I start growing parsley out of my arms while fleeing over the Appalachian Mountains from angry flocks of waterfowl." The simplest nightmare I have had in recent memory involves having rotini pasta under the skin of my face (augh augh augh), which is... a little weird.

Adventure dreams don't count as nightmares. I mean, they are full of danger and death and fleeing or fighting for my very life, but that's exciting.

I suppose it's only fair that, since I seem forced to spend the majority of my life asleep, it's at least entertaining.

Anyway, so last night at some ungodly hour of the morning Eema received a text message that said "Nasty migraine cannot travel Slicha =(". She somehow misread "migraine" as "nightmare," and spent the next ten minutes calling my phone to comfort her poor sleep-texting daughter.

I dunno if you guys get migraines, but rock-music cell-phone ringtones are not generally conducive to making them hurt less.

I'm better now, which means I have to pack. *glances around flat* ...Hoo boy. This should be fun and games. Specifically a game of let's watch Leora try not to get distracted. I give myself about thirty seconds.

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Yeah, like that's even *remotely* spelled right...

Opera today was fantastic, totally. I woke up around seven-oh-two (oops) from ST:TOS/Torchwood crossover dreams, threw on my concert blacks, and was out the door by 7:17 PM. Since I hadn't had time to eat, I stopped to get coffee at the Grand River/Hagadorn Beaners at 7:22, was back in my car by 7:26, made it to Fairchild/Auditorium by 7:30, and drank it mostly while climbing the steps to the stage entrance. Read further in A Madness of Angels (man, that book is so cool) until it was time to go into the pit. And then it went really well, and I totally paid attention the entire time and did not mess up hardly at all, and also for the first time all week my back and arms did not try to kill me, because we have *no rests* the *entire opera,* and it is not like we can saw away, one must keep control the whole time and it's exhausting and during the dress rehearsals and last night's performance I've been counting measures until I can take my violin down for a few brief moments, but tonight I was fiiiiiiine, I could have kept playing forever. It was awesome.


Then I came back to my flat and made delicious macaroni and cheese with rigatoni and am eating it in my soup-mug, also there is chapter three of Sam's I Were The Heavens-verse Jack/Ianto fic and, yay, it is made of glory.

I really like this opera, and will be sad tomorrow when it is over.

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I love the piano duet scene so effing much. You know what I'd like? Victor/Victoria/Emily ot3. I think that would actually be pretty cool.

I'm feeling both lazy and restless tonight. I don't have a car here, so I'll need to call a taxi to get home, which I don't particularly feel like doing right now. I should practice, or run, or swim, or sleep, or something. My heart and lungs are still sore from last night. I can feel my trachea twinge, on occasion, and you can't tell me that this is normal. I should not be able to feel my innards. Stomach, sure, I will give you the digestive system. But not the rest. Innards are innards and they should stay there.

I bought myself a silver heart pendant for Valentine's Day, because that's how I roll, and it arrived in the mail today. I am debating finding it a chain of its own, because it's rather large and the box-chain I tend to use interchangeably (but mostly with the butterfly) might be too delicate-looking by comparison.

Murrrrg. I was supposed to clean my flat tonight, and I really don't feel like doing that. I was also supposed to make progress on wedding things. And stuff. I dunno.

Maybe I'll just go home and go to sleep. I could use the sleep.

Or a shower. I could use one of those too. I don't like taking showers, that's the thing; they are infernally boring.

*yawns* My jaw is still sore from laughing at thefourthvine's recap of The Naked Time. Ho-ly.

I think I may be lonely.

I'm actually still dealing really badly with being second chair for the R-K, which is disappointing, because one would think that I could be more professional about this, but apparently not.

Yeah, I think I'm lonely. 'S got nothing to do with the R-K and my inability to get over it, just is. Also with the fact that 2010 has not been a very good year so far, or at least February has not. It's four in the morning, though, so I can't call anybody.

Maybe I'll walk home. I think that might be pleasant.

The bra I bought when Caitlin's Eema and I went looking for wedding corsetry is not nearly as comfortable or good as I thought. This is actually a fairly regular occurence. Leora tries on bra, Leora says "hey, this is great" and buys it, Leora wears it for maybe three days then goes "man, this is uncomfortable. and also makes me look like I have three breasts. I must be careful or I will be burned for a medieval witch." I need to find some time during the day to go buy proper sports bras, as well, but of course I'm never awake during the day. Also bras are crazy expensive, which is unfair. You know what would be less expensive? Cutting them off like an Amazon. Ha. That'll teach- uh... the bra industry.

My dream last night was animated. It kind of just struck me right now how weird that is, that last night I dreamt in 2D animation. It was very very pretty and artistic, just... that's weird. That's really weird. It was a really really good dream though, and I didn't want to wake up.

Yesterday I remembered Iron Pyme. She's not actually real, is she? I'm pretty sure she's from a dream too. I think I spelled it Iron Pym at the time, but that looks too much like it would be pronounced Iron Pim, and it rhymes with- uh- rhyme. So: Iron Pyme. Yes? Yes. I don't know why I remembered her yesterday, but her name was in my head for some odd reason.

Anyone who reads this (which is like 2, but whatever) please answer the following question as honestly as possible.


It can be anything from 'why is the sky blue' to 'why do we exist' to 'why don't I have a date for prom' Please?

Adrian: Why?
Hex: Because.
Adrian: Why anything?
Hex: Because everything. XXXX Out of cheese error. Redo from start.

Ipslore the Red: What's it all about, really? What is there that makes life worth living?

And, well... 'cause we haven't found a better alternative yet, for one, and 'cause if we left we might go somewhere where there's no frisbee, and that would suck. My sister once explained to me why the sky is blue; something to do with the layering effect that the atmosphere has on visible light, you don't have a date for prom because the eligible guys seem to be either taken, gay, or stupid, and we exist because... well, I guess because it's fun.

Marta once told me that being a Sagittarius meant that I was insightful and philosophical, and she's wrong, but as far as life goes... because there are little things that make it all worthwhile, like frisbee or the morning when your whole family sits down to breakfast or when you and your parents sing and dance wildly on a subway car or when all your friends are sitting together in a cozy room and it's four o'clock in the morning and everything's funny because you're all so tired, or when you climb up a tree and scrape your wrist but keep going and you reach the top and look out and the sun and the wind are on your face, or the time you went to the playground with a friend even though it was raining and the slides were slippery and the puddles were deep and you run and splash and laugh, or when you're doing homework and you spontanously turn the page and draw a picture and it's one of the best you've ever drawn and you know that you're going to have to stay up late to finish your homework now but the satisfaction makes it worth it, or when you watch one of your best friends dance and in the darkened auditorium she seems to glow with her own light and for a moment you simply cannot believe that she is actually an earthly creature, so ethereal and compelling and passionate and divine are her movements. And so we live from moment to moment and we survive the bad times because there's just no way we can give up the good.

That's why. Hope it's honest enough for you.

Well I can't top that. but I would like to add to Leora's "why"s. Becase thoes little purple violets come up in the spring becase they are the nicest smelling flowers in the whole world. because in the summer when it has been really hot all day and it is finally night time and you open your window all the way and the air is so nice and cool and your sheets smell so nice becasue your mother has dried them on the cloths line outside. Because there are always librarys and books stores with lots of books that I have never read. This is fun. Becase there are so many hats out there I have not worn yet! Because peaches will be in season in a few months. Because I still have to get my splits all the way down. Because there is chocolate, well there is often chocolate, right this minet there is no chocolate but there is jello, not quite the same but oh well. Because I have silly friends who will continue to do silly things but that is why I love them. Because we have almost made it through junior year and you will Not be in India all summer. Yay!!! Well not as deep as Leora's and not nearly as many SAT words but at least I am happy now.

Because we're waiting for the bloody fanfics to finish.

I suppose you could switch that with: book series, movie trilogy, or whatever-else-you're-waiting for, but currently for me it's the fanfics.

...Or it's because I want to finish my one bloody fanfics or book series.

... ... Or it's because I have yet to be embarrassed out of my mind by hearing, "semeru" at Naginata practice yet.

My God/Satan/Someone. I have turned into such a pervert....

I have forgotten to mention in my journals that my gym shorts, provided by the school, scream "Rora". It is not a subtle mentioning of "eyeliner," this is bloody well screaming "EYELINER!!!!!!!!!!!!" (My gym uniform is neon green and blue. While most people have their names on their shirts and shorts, it is usually in blue thread (against the blue background). Mine, however, is in neon green on blue background.

Hence, it is screaming "RORA!"

Shut up. It's... well, "It's".

It's from May 2004, meaning I was, what, sixteen? I'm twenty-two, that's still freaking me out, I don't feel twenty-two.

I will miss my city.

(sheesh, disjointed entry much?)

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So, I need to learn how to make fanvids. this is just one of those things, because there needs to be a Kirk vid (with K/S overtones) to Mambo #5. It needs to happen, it just does, okay, and So I need to learn to make fanvids so that that can happen. Also Jack/Ianto to My Life Would Suck Without You (which yes, thank you, I *did* know and like that song before Glee got ahold of it, because there's a Buffy/Giles vid to it, shut up shut up shut up even Joss Whedon thought they had chemistry and had to keep telling them to Stop That) because the line "Maybe I got issues/But you're pretty messed up too" could be the title of a Jack/Ianto ship manifesto.

(Speaking of Glee, I finally got around to watching the finale. It was a bit of a letdown. I mean, I was looking forward to- if not resolution of plotlines I cared about, which, as expected, I didn't get- at least some truly enjoyable musical numbers. And the only one I liked at all was Mercedes' belting in the choir room, which was fun, but not what I was hoping for. I'd been hearing such good things about the sectional number, but it was just... kind of unmemorable. I dunno, am I the only person ever who doesn't think that You Can't Get What You Want isn't really all that great a song?)

Eema gave me the evening off today, so I walked home (I'd gotten picked up for orchestra) and went to sleep around 8 PM. Woke up around three, ate a quesadilla and am lounging around for a while. I'll go in a minute to Meijers, and then start in on my list of Things That Need To Be Accomplished, like buying strings and cat food and signing up for orchestra and stuff like that. I hate days that start in the morning, actually; I suppose other people are all like "I have all day until I have obligations" because I do, I've not got to be anywhere until three, but I think this is another one my sense of time messes up, because I'm all like "argh limited time that is shrinking by the second" because of course every time I look up, it's been another two hours, so it doesn't feel like I have any time in which to do things. Also this way I have to tolerate daylight, kssssss.

Back to living without weekends. Dammit, this summer I made Eema promise that I could have the occasional weekend this year, and of course I am grateful for things like having the evening off last night, or taking three.5 days to go see Mical in Colorado in February, but- a day off! One full day with no commitments, that is all I ask.

Meh. I'm not in that great a mood tonight. I just- am not looking forward to a good day. Too many things I have to get done that are not going to be enjoyable, and I'm just- ach. I dunno.

Six a.m. and black as pitch. I do adore winter. Please let's live in Alaska; I know it's not very likely but- just.

(Last night I dreamt I went to MSU and I could study and I was learning and attending classes and completing assignments and and. Sometimes I can't help but be a little bitter. BIOLOGY. It's so cool, and I have always wanted to study it. Even during the years when I wanted to be an actress.)

(Okay FINE, when I say "a little bitter" I mean sometimes I kind of hate the world, but. Y'know. Everyone does, sometimes.)

Avatar! How gorgeous is it? I kind of feel like every furry must have when they put CATS on Broadway; when I get then chance I will write up a tribute to all the blue characters I have loved over the years. Luthe! Thrawn! Chantho! Ruffalo! Oola! Mystique! Matilda! Al's Waiter! (Is this creeping people out? I often wonder if I'm just creeping everyone out when I say things like that, and they're just laughing to cover up the fact that they're uncomfortable.)

Seven-twenty and the dawn. Watching K/S vids and feeling a little better; have downloaded the song That's Not My Name off iTunes.

I tried to go back to sleep when I woke up at three this morning, I tried really hard, and I'm still tired and I could probably succeed if I tried again but if I go to sleep now there's no way I'm waking up in time for orchestra, let alone with time to get anything done before it. So that six-hour nap I had is just going to have to do me.

But I'm a bit better now; it's always easier to make me laugh when I'm tired, and I always feel better when I laugh. It's totally scientific and I suspect that it works even better for me than it does for most, because I laugh like a lunatic.




Mar. 7th, 2009 01:56 am
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So I'm sorry I post so little about my actual life, but, you know, it's kind of supremely boring to write about. Woke up (late), dashed to orchestra (or slept through it), went to work, worked late, came home, read fanfiction/watched movies, ate (or didn't), went to sleep (or didn't). Day after day after day. I'll have TWO DAYS OFF next week. zOMG I can barely remember the last time I *actually* had a day off, not just accidentally slept through things. I think the last time was when Eyal&Laura&I all went up to Mt Pleasant to visit Caitlin. And/or when I went to visit Paul. So basically, I cannot remember the last time I had a day off to just have a lie-in. Well, I don't suppose these will count either, because Thursday I'm going to Ann Arbor with others to visit Eyal, and Wednesday I imagine I will be hanging out w/Paul. So I guess I wish that I didn't get the opportunity to visit with my friends&family so very infrequently that I don't have any days left in which to spend in lazy indolent solitude. But you know, I've noticed that the only times I really feel intensely *lonely* are when I actually have the opportunity to spend time with my friends or family, and cannot take advantage of it, so don't anybody (PAUL) dare think that I mean that I'd rather they just stayed away & worked on their stupid thesis or something. I see what you did thar. Enough with the looking up through your bangs with the puppy eyes; come home already, I bloody miss you.

Oh hey, um, I don't really want to try calling you at three a.m., but Caitlin, if you're around and awake at three-fifteen or so, ring me and we can go for a walk, because it's gorgeous out.

Hung up the phone and said something to Alex today, don't remember what, probably confirming that someone was or wasn't on the roster, but UNEXPECTED BRITISH ACCENT WAS UNEXPECTED.

I should be working right now, you realize...?


Suppose I should do that for a bit.

(Oh hey! You know what I discovered today? A right-click key! It was terribly exciting.)

Probably I will edit this later, when I am bored with, you know, actually working. Oh yeah- I will later write about my dream, as it was FASCINATING, and full of... like... partially digested demons. It was rockin' awesome.

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So yesterday evening I was feeling fairly sucky, as you might imagine; Thursday night I had even *dreamt* about people saying they were disappointed in me. But my subconscious apparently felt guilty for making me feel guilty, or something, because last night I totally dreamt about Gareth David-Lloyd, and Edgar van Scyoc, which was v. v. shiny. And then I woke up at one o'clock or so, perfectly naturally, which is highly surprising since I'd only gone to bed around six-thirty. But whatever, I woke up and dislodged Worf and went to my kitchen and made myself tea, in my old trusty electric teakettle, and I stood over it and breathed steam until my nose cleared a little and then went and put in my contacts and came back and poured boiling water over a lemon teabag in my lovely Beaner's thermos that Paul gave me for my birthday, with one (heaping) spoonful of sugar, and then I tucked myself all curled up into my lovely basketchair and put on Shostakovich nine, and listened to the first movement, and then my eye fell on the CDs Caitlin had given me for my birthday, that I'd been saving for when I needed them. And I thought, today is a perfect time. So I put on Ook! Songs for Leora's 21st Birthday, and sat curled in my basketchair and sipped hot tea in between dragging the feathery stick for Worf and dancing about the room, sore hip-swinging muscles notwithstanding.

There may be things I fail at but it is still so good to be me.

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So today I managed to pull myself out of bed (away from lovely, lovely dreams of Ianto, and Tosh, and Jack, and theatre- you have no idea how hard that was) at about 2:20 PM, which is possibly a new record for me, and I was totally out of the flat and on the road by 2:40, with my umbrella and my purse and the bag of pyjamas that I had to give back to Eema. And then I was nearly to the Burcham intersection when I realized that my violin was still in my flat. (my lack of social life is telling: I keep wanting to slip words in Hebrew into this post- my umbrella and my tik, my kinor was still in my flat. I need to talk to people out loud more often; I'm forgetting English.) Anyway, so I panicked and pulled into the Elementary School driveway, intending to turn around, when I realized that it was one-way, no left turns, and there was a long line of cars blocking me from getting out. Someone kindly let me in and I turned frantically onto Burcham, then realized I had no idea how to get back. There was much of the getting lost and ending up in strange neighborhoods before I found myself back on Saginaw, where I went tearing along back to Haslett, to Hagadorn, and to Hull. Ran upstairs, snatched my violin and drove hell-bent for leather- by which I mean, thirty miles per hour, because speed limits. Arrived in the Music Building just as the Symphony orchestra was tuning, and stopped to get my folder from the bin but the bin WAS GONE. By now I was already late, so I did not run, but I hurried to the Music Library and it was totally closed and dark and locked and empty, despite the sign on the door saying OPEN and 1PM to 4PM and it being only 3:00 PM. And so I knocked and looked desperate and pitiful, and considered just running away, but someone would have seen me approach the orchestra room earlier and I'd passed Beau in the hallway and someone would have reported to Gregorian that I had been there, and disappeared of my own free will. So I gathered up my courage and went in late, ARGH, and then we played Prokofiev's Love of Three Oranges and Beethoven's Eroica. And it had been sprinkling when I'd awoken, and all the way to orchestra, and as rehearsal wore on the rain got heavier and heavier until it was just pouring straight down, and I was really annoyed with myself for leaving my umbrella in my car, because I'd have to walk to work without it. But then an hour and some time in, during the Beethoven, the rain stopped and though the sky was dark and grey somehow the sun was shining magnificently off of the trees with their fall-colors and it was just about the most lovely sight I'd ever seen, and I spent all our measures of rest (like, all three of them) staring over my shoulder out the window, which is bad and unprofessional but COME ON, Beethoven would have understood, LOOK AT THAT SIGHT. Gorgeous. And then the gray just faded away from the top down like God adjusting the brightness of his monitor, and it was just so cool, also, Beethoven is crazy hard and I kind of wish I were first violin because I learned these excerpts for auditions and it throws me the heck off when I hear the cues and start automatically playing along with the firsts because the second part is impossible to sight read anyway and I know that part, I know that's what I'm supposed to be playing, and I can't not play it. But I'll learn, I will. Afterwards I went and had a cup of coffee, which- oh- explains why I have barely paused for breath this entire entry, and then I sang Blue Skies and came to work, after stopping in Barnes and Noble to pine after Doctor Who, which is like a hundred dollars, whut, on Amazon it's only like 53 + shipping. and, granted, shipping is expensive, but not that expensive, guys. Last night I talked to Mical and I suggested that she be a bat for Halloween, which come to think of it is a really good idea, and something I've never been, so maybe I will be too, because Mical is in Boulder and it's not exactly like we move in the same circles. And also Eema dropped off a bag of clothes for me to try on, a black concert shirt and black cordoruoy pants and two pairs of pyjamot, and she said that whichever pair I didn't pick she would take. There was a pink pair with black-and-tan flowers all over that I didn't fancy at all, and a really cute plaid flannel pair that I adored and it was no decision at all. I wonder how influenced I was by the fact that Eema has a pair of plaid flannel pyjamas, and so does Caitlin. *shrugs* Anyway they were quite comfortable and I wore them while making noodles with olive oil and basil and parmesan cheese, which is delicious and I purposely made enough so that I could take the leftovers to work today and not be hungry, but then of course I ran out the house without time and did not take it, so I will have to content myself with the appetite-suppression of caffeine, which is most of the reason that I drank the coffee, was so that I wouldn't die of hunger before I went home tonight. Also I did all my dishes, go me. I was about to complain to Paul that a downside of living alone was that I had to do all my own dishes, but then I realized, no, if I had a roommate or something, I would still have to do my own dishes, and also be yelled for not doing them by someone else's standard of fast enough. So, it is actually a perk of living alone, and I love it, if I do things in my own time I do not have to feel guilty, or be yelled at. I love that, I really, really do. It is something that will take me a long time to get over, and I'm just revelling in it. Basically I revel in my flat. A lot. Look at my window! Covered in sparkly snowflakes, and a snowman suncatcher, and golden stars, and Caitlin's beaded star ornament! Look at my bookshelf, and how it matches my door! Look at my bright lamp, my night-table, my silver clock and my religious icon, my dishcloth hanging on a sticky-hook, my sink! My dishwasher! My coffemaker! My kitchen appliances, my knife rack! My basketchair, my shower curtain, my soap dish, my medicine cabinet! My rugs! My kitchen table, my chairs, my beautiful white kitchen table and brown chairs! My sofas covered in cat hairs! My friggin' WATERBED, my luxurious, luxurious sheets and comforter! My walk-in closet, all full of hangers, my laundry basket! Look at my new balcony, the lovely blonde wood, and my windchime with the golden sound! My clock-radio and my new headphones, my TV stand with television AND a DVD player...! My shoe rack, my white coat with the parva! My very own cat-food closet, with my very own vaccuum cleaners, both large and small! My fuzzy blue blanket and my DVDs and my books, my books and my purple butterfly bookends, my knitted potholders and green placemats and brass candlesticks! My candles! Matches! My green flower dishes! My beautiful, decorated bowls of all shapes and sizes! My art nouveau vase, full of beautifully dead flowers! My carpeted floor! NYAAAAA! *runs around in circles, flailing* LOOK AT ALL MY STUFF. I don't think there is any way to convey how unbelieveably rich I feel. All this stuff! And it's all mine! I feel like Ariel, except without the pining or the pouting! ALL THIS STUFF. IT IS MINE. I HAS IT. You are going to have to pry me out of this flat with a crowbar. I totally, totally get how all the ship captains feel now. MY PLACE. MINEMINEMINE.

I don't think I've ever had less money to my name. I'm subsisting off of rice and pasta and calculating every day whether I can afford to buy a cup of hot chocolate on my way to work (answer is: I really shouldn't, I should just buy a thermos so that I can make my own and bring it with me). I'm not managing to save anything; between keeping myself in internet and violin lessons I must be careful to let my third-of-a-tank of gas last me the next two weeks at least. I've never really not had spending-money before; even when I was little, if I wanted something, I could ask for it. I might have received "no" for an answer, or else had to wait for a holiday, but still. (It's so easy to see how someone can get stuck like this, and have to choose between an eye exam and a bow rehair, and I'm so very, very fortunate that my parents can help me with things like that.)

I've never felt richer in my life, ever. I cannot get over how lucky I am, and as in Israel, every nerve in my body is screaming at me to make the most of now, because I am well aware, so very very aware, of the limited duration of this state of affairs. I am in the prime of youth, the cusp of adulthood, if you will; I have what is (for me) a perfect balance of independence and a firm support structure, a place of my own- a place of my own that feels like home- a cat that keeps me from ever being actually lonely, a cat whose character just takes up all the space in the room, like a cat trained in musical theater. Two orchestras and a part-time job arranged to fit my personal sleep schedule, no responsibilities that I cannot handle for the first time in, like, EVER, no one to please but myself, and plenty of time and resources with which to do as I please. Do not get me wrong, having other people in my life will be great too, but I value this time so much, and, as in Israel, I do not look up in surprise and wonder where the last few months have gone: I am conscious of every day that passes, I can feel the time flying, the way people say you can't. That is me; I may not have a sense of time- of past, of future, but I am so aware of the now. Always conscious of the present. ...'M not sure what I'm trying to say, here, anymore. But the last section of the first paragraph sort of reminded me of Jack talking to Nicholas in Polari (Nicholas! I would give anything for Nicholas to be canon. I'm so madly in love with Nicholas). Tosheroon worth of savvy to spare and dull ogles and dolly eeks.

I should actually work on the roster now, you know. *shrugs* It will get done. So it goes.

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Actually my computer refuses to acknowledge that it is plugged into the wall, and stubbornly remains on battery power. Eema freaked out when I told her, I still don't know why.

But anyway, she said she'd do my grocery shopping for me this week, which is the nicest thing ever, and also means that I can afford Worf's immunizations.

Had a dream about Starbuck, and Baltar, and a crazy bus driver and having jester tattoos on the inside of one's skin and being lost while late for orchestra, and a zoo. Was entertaining, but Worf kept waking me up during the night.

Must finish work & go home already...



Sep. 7th, 2008 03:40 pm
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I think there is something telling about the fact that the nightmares which horrify me most always involve my skin, and things underneath it. Having parsley grow out of my skin, or mushrooms, and trying to pull them out and it hurts to do so but they keep growing. Last night I dreamt that there was rotini under my skin- under the skin of my face, actually, and I pulled off the scab that was covering it and there was all this rotini underneath, hardened and even black in places, and I was digging it out and it was painful but no matter how much I dug out there was always more underneath. And there were other scabs like it. Right now I cannot remember a dream that disturbed me more. As I write about it now I can barely keep from shaking; there is no way I can convey the horror of it.


Aug. 9th, 2008 06:16 am
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"you look so precious now," is what it actually said, but of course I look at that and see "you look so precious nom" and think it's "you look so precious, NOM NOM NOM."

I love my brain.

Mmmmmmsleep. More tragic!Iantodreams to look forward to.

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Well, I dreamt that Paul and I were leading an army in a mock war. Well, when I say "leading" I mean Paul led, and I was his second-in-command. It was slightly Inda-style warfare, involving ships that sailed on land- we did use a fireship at one point- and also pulled the Birnam Wood come to Dunsinane, in that we chopped up bushes and carried them around as cover. Most of our classmates were in our army. We began in a museum, and then we sailed around and had to hide. There was no hierarchy below us- it was just Paul as kind of the only officer and me the only NCO, or something, and so I kept having to run around making everyone BE QUIET and STAY LOW, and it was kind of annoying but whatever. Anyway Paul's plans worked, and we took this fort, and then the enemy responded by sending a small squad to try to infiltrate us by tricking us into trusting them. They weren't sure which would work, I guess, so they tried them all at once, and sent in a small party made up of people disguised as a whore, a priest, Van Helsing, and a cowgirl, and I killed the soldiers disguised as a whore and a priest with throwing knives because how stupid do they think we are, and then I drew my pistol and killed the cowgirl and then Van Helsing and I shot each other. Then I realized that the cowgirl was refusing to admit she was dead, which is being a Poor Sport and Ruining It For Everybody, and I yelled at her, and she said, "no, we're all just wounded," so Van Helsing and I acted wounded but then the cowgirl refused to act wounded and was trying to get into the fort, and then Paul leading a small squad shot the cowgirl through the window, and showed her how the pattern of glass meant that she'd just been shot through both femoral arteries and she was dead, so if she'd lie down please. And so she finally did, and then Van Helsing and I agreed that really, he and I were both dead too, so we fell down at opposite sides of the passage like we would have, and the right side of my jacket had fallen open. Paul and the squad came up and I gave him a wry look, and one of the soldiers told me that I'd been a rollicking good Queen and would be missed, which was incredibly gratifying, and then they went off and I woke up.

(Before that there was all this stuff with my kittens and protecting them and going through a teacher's stuff while she was away, which I felt bad about but KITTENS, must protect them.)
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So I finally got around to seeing Temple of Doom, which everybody- rightly, as it turned out- had warned me not to. I've never been a fan of his, not even in the first and third, but seriously, worst movie ever.


Anyway I ranted at Eyal about the fact that it was rated PG, and I do not think that movies involving that much blood and death and eating-of-live-animals and torture and whatnot should be seen by children under thirteen, you know, aside from the rampant racism and sexism and stupidity. Simply because it's disturbing and would have given me hideous nightmares if I had seen it as a child.

Last night, however, I dreamt that I and most of the women of my village (it was matriarchal, take that, Indiana) were fishing chunks of flesh out of our water supply and digging out the still-living organs buried inside them, in preparation for our quest to rescue our neighboring villages' inhabitants that had been kidnapped and had their still-functioning organs magically disembodied. And stuff.

(Before that, I met Charlton Heston and we sang a duet about how I only knew him as the Player King from Branagh's Hamlet, and also I was trying to sneak around the auditorium while there was a Symphony concert, and I was in some of the pieces but not all of them, and when there was a choir piece I thought I was done and so I was partway home on the Michigan Flyer before I realized that I still had one more piece to perform. And then my damn stand partner refused to sit with me during the concert, so I had to use my own music without the markings in it, and I was panicking and really really angry with her. Alyssa from Ulpan was there, and trying to comfort me, but I was still mad. And then there were Death Eaters, and Veela, and random slash but I went to get pita and hummous so I did not stick around to watch. And Gregorian was intimidating. Also I kissed some guy under a streetlamp.)

We were gathering the keys (that's what we were calling the organs) under the supervision of a couple of priestesses that we had called in to help with the magical part of the battle ahead, and they were sort of gothy-looking, with streaks of black and white in their hair. And then I dreamt that I took a shower to wash off all the blood from working with the organs, and then I woke up and took a real shower.

Off to work now.

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So the below post refers to the 1976 version of R&J, in which all the male characters do just fine, and all the female actors suck. I mean it. I fast-forwarded whenever Juliet was talking. She drove me nuts and I rejoiced at her death.

Tybalt kept looking really really familiar, so I looked him up on IMDB just to make sure- It's Laertes! Laertes from Jacobi's Hamlet! So that was nice.

Then just on a whim, because I thought I might have seen him somewhere before too, I looked up Romeo. "Ha ha," I said to myself. "Wouldn't in be funny if he were from Star Trek: Voyager, like the conductor from August Rush." But I didn't really believe it.

Unferth. From the season 1 episode Heroes and Demons. You know- THE BEOWULF EPISODE. I nearly died. It was twenty years later and he was wearing lots of facial hair, but that's Romeo alright. Good grief.

Then last night I saw what I think is the best version of Twelfth Night I've seen so far. It was set in the Victorian era, and Helena Bonham Carter was Olivia (aside from playing various ghouls, she was Ophelia in Gibson's Hamlet), and it was totally great and I want to write a big long review with screencaps. As soon as I figure out how to do that. Because, yes.

(Last night I dreamt that Worf was kidnapped and held for ransom. By a man in Fort Wayne. No really. He called and said that he had my cat, and I asked him where, and he said "Fort Wayne."
"You're changing the subject."
"No, really, I'm curious." But he didn't tell me.)


So far

Oct. 14th, 2007 12:07 pm
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Jack Aubrey is a big dork. It's okay though, because it's funny.

We bought new fetch-balls for Worf, because she apparently ATE the last two, or something.

It's terribly cold in this house. Like, constantly. Freezing cold. I sit around in my fuzzy fleeve pyjama bottoms and my fuzzyfuzzy house slippers and my long-sleeved pyjama shirt and my Interlochen hoodie over that, and I'm still cold; I need to be wearing a headband for my ears and a good pair of gloves but then my fingers wouldn't be able to type (not that they're so good at it right now, being so cold and all) and my nose would still be cold. Oh my poor nose. (I want to spell it nows. I do. There is something to that, about spelling "wife" or "house" and having never seen those letters in that order before...)

Last night I dreamt that I was the prisoner of this crazy magical guy who had wiped my memory and the memories of all of his other prisoners. We were attending dreamworld!Hogwarts, or some sort of seven-year boarding school, anyway, and I was in my seventh year even though I was still my age, which is almost-twenty (kill me now). And in my dream-past, while I was still a prisoner/minion/whatever it was I was, I had met this alien creature like every five years or something like that, and it was, like, made of glowy spaghetti in a giant tank of blue goo, like Agar only not actually at all, and sometimes the spaghetti was one giant mass and sometimes it would separate. And it could communicate telepathically, I guess, and it could evaporate you and it vaporized lots of people, anyone who came too close, but not me, because I walked in all fearless-like and swam around with it, and it would turn me into glowy spaghetti for a short time. And this is apparently why I was such a valuable minion to my captor. Anyway I figured out that my earrings could combat his memory-wiping, and I didn't get my memory back, exactly, but I could accumulate more memories, and when he had no other prisoners but me left he planned to bring in some more prisoners from my school. So he brought in two girls (he had other minions, guys mostly, who would mow the lawns and stuff) and I went to talk to them and it turned out that one of them was a good friend of mine. And I didn't want her memory wiped, and anyway I'd been planning to escape, so while they were being kept in Worf's room, he sent me to give them the memory-wiping stuff, but it would take twenty-four hours to work completely. So I did, but then I gave my friend one earring and told her to wait twenty-four hours and then put it on, and then I snuck into the laundry room and hid away some knives of his, and kept two in my pockets, one for me and one for my friend. The second prisoner was all wimpy and I knew I couldn't trust her to do anything useful in a crisis, so I didn't include her in the plan. And so anyway my friend watched a minion outside with balloons that marked time until galilei, and then she put in the earring and kept her memories, and then we fought our captor and we won, and we called the police and my friend started cutting his hair with her knife, so then I had to help her in order to keep the work even, and he was sad but I told him he still looked good with shorter hair, and it was true. It wasn't too short anyway. We'd done a good job, or something. Anyway then as we were leaving we saw the alien again and I remembered it, kind of dimly like I remembered everything, and I walked in and it turned me into glowy spaghetti and I swam around until I accidentally knocked into the powerbar with my foot, and then I had to turn back into a human, but it said I could come back and maybe eventually go into space when it went to visit its home planet. And then I walked back with my friend and the chief minion, who was actually pretty nice, and I helped him get away from the police in exchange for him helping me protect Worf and Tessie. There was more but I don't remember it all. Something about driving in the car and Hebrew names and sheep-pastures, and being under the influence of TRUTH POTION, which had been one of my captor's experiments, I think. It means you cannot speak other than the truth- not just what you believe to be the truth, but the actual truth will come out of your mouth, and nothing else. So I decided to take advantage of that and go clothes shopping, and I would try on an outfit and look in a mirror and try to say "It looks good on me," and no matter how I thought it looked, it would only come out as "it looks good on me" if it actually did. But there were no good swimsuits. I could tell that even without the truth potion. Going to meet Eyal now.

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I dreamt that I was Hermione. And then I fell in love with Draco Malfoy. *shudders*

The rest of the dream was better. We were fighting ringwraiths with The Book of Three and it turned out that one of them was nice. It was cool. And I was watching a bunch of stags carrying billboards up and down alongside the highway, and I was a lion and Lynn said that I was mishtolelet, which is like... "romping around all crazy-like." And there were Jamaicans cleaning my house while I was wearing a helmet and someone with a Star Wars voice was talking about what a cool helmet it was. Then there was soap all over the front porch, so me and Eema and the Jamaican guys were all skidding around on in and singing "Zombie Jamboree." Malfoy was being all haughty and wouldn't join in. He was sitting on my swings, the ones that aren't there anymore. He also challenged Harry to a race of Malfoy riding Buckbeak vs. Harry on his broom. And talked about integrals and sets. And I think Phoebus from Hunchback of Notre Dame was there too... he may have given me the helmet. And there was lots of Tolkien. There was also a hairdresser who was quoting the bible. Wrongly, but it seemed right in the dream. Something about Elijah.

I have to go and practice, because I have orchestra today at 5:00. I don't really want to go. I want to have the house to myself again, so I can wear absurd costumes and talk to myself and sing and dance and play music real loud, stay up to all hours of the night and bake bread and clean up only when I feel like it. Sigh.

Erella and Amnon are here to visit. Last night we went out to Outback Steakhouse. I'd never been there before. It was pretty good- I liked the bread, it was brown and sweet and still hot, and the "bloomin' onion" was better than I expected. I had cream of broccoli soup (not bad at all) and Amnon's batata (sweet potato) which was achla (really good or cool or whatever). Erella brought us handmade scarves which are diaphanous and lovely, greens and blues and purples in this pretty ripply effect. I like them a lot. They also brought a CD of Israeli melodies arranged for flute and orchestra.

I was also inspired to write Little Mermaid fanfic.


This is the part where I look at myself and go, "I don't know you."

It's pretty much stopped raining, as far as I can tell. Maybe I'll bike to MSU. That'd be kind of fun. By kind of fun I mean not, but I do need the excercise, so... self-propelled speeder bikes it is. Or something. Eru, I'm pretty tired. My left eye has been hurting lately. Also my teeth, kind of.

I am extremely bitter at Meijers for rearranging everything. It seems to always be that way, doesn't it? As soon as I figure out the arrangement of something, and how everything in it works, it gets entirely changed. Annoys me to no end. I think Eema's here to make me go to MSU and practice. I really don't want to. I just want to stay in and be lazy. Rrrgh.



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