Yet more people have found out about my planned departure and it’s as if it’s the ‘end of an error’ is making people really freeked out. I don’t want to freak people out. I just want my life back. Yes, I know it looks like I have a life from my blog, I’m forever doing exciting or at least utterly bizarre things, meeting strange life forms and having thinky-thotz, but I’d like a more interesting life still, and I want to be able to say I did something besides work. Like create. Continue reading Still alive
Category: Dreams
Take the seminal challenge
It had never occurred to me to put those two words together in that order, but here they are in an article about semen allergy in women. I was going to write more on the subject, but I’ve been tasteless enough.
Dreams & food & rellies
I stopped writing about my dreams in my blog because I read it was one of the worst and most self indulgent things you can write about. So when I tell you that last night I dreamed that my laptop caught fire, filk went mainstream (songbooks in chain bookstores?) and I met a True Blood cast member getting a humanitarian award for bloodrelated research, be assured it was an amazing experience.
Snow has turned to drizzle.
Biscotti – quite good biscotti – has been made. Today I’ll make and freeze turkey à la king.
The back deck appears intact.
My distaste for alcohol continues.
The carrot salad Paul sent me home with in the magic bag of leftovers is so good I got up and had it for a midnight snack. This is while there was Brie in the fridge, mind you, just to give you some basis for comparison.
Speaking of leftovers I think I’ll nuke up the leftover sweet potato with Brie on top. I’m so suggestible.
A death in the family / a dream
Carrie reports that her doggie Mabel has crossed the Rainbow Bridge. In response, all I could do was forward a copy of a Hallmark card poem that was on a card Lois (Paul’s youngest sister, a woman of uncommon charm, wit and sensitivity) sent me when Bounce died. If I had any clue who to credit this to, I would, but it’s copyright Hallmark Cards, card S81-4, and I post it because out of all the things you can say to a person whose animal just died, this poem does it the best I know of so far:
They will not go quietly,
the pets who’ve shared our lives.
In subtle ways they let us know
their spirit still survives.
Old habits still can make us
think we hear them at the door
Or step back when we drop
a tasty morsel on the floor
Our feet still go around the place
the food dish used to be,
and, sometimes, coming home at night,
we miss them terribly.
And although time may bring new friends
and a new food dish to fill,
That one place in our hearts
belongs to them….
and always will.
Last night I dreamed I was supposed to meet up with some people, and I trusted somebody else to get my bag. We got off the train (not the Skytrain, the subway in Toronto) and poof, no bag and everybody looking hangdog. I said, **** this noise, got back on the next train, figured out where to cross sides so I got on the train I’d just gotten off, and at the end of the car there was a big pile of unattended gym bags, and the first one I opened had my bag in it. There are a lot of messages in this dream, and on the whole I’m pleased with it.
Up at 4 – it’s now almost six and I’m about to pull cheese scones out of the oven. The aroma is now well-nigh overpowering. I put the last of the fresh basil in them. Sigh. It’s winter in Vancouver. The overcast has started, and it won’t lighten up until April. Time to hunker down and do some healthy baking. I found a recipe for home made power bars the other week and I should dig it out and start making them. And as for unhealthy baking, maybe this is the year I commercialize my biscotti? I’ve had lots of people tell me they’d pay for them.
Dreams / work / musical
I’m only posting this to make Debbie pout, but last night I dreamed I was in a hot tub with Michael Weatherly and three other guys. I was naked, everybody else was wearing trunks. (damn… or something). And what were we DOING in the hot tub, minds without shame wish to know? Waiting for Obama. Yup. I wish I was making this up, but I was waiting for Obama. Also there was a bit of byplay about Michael Weatherly swimming with dolphins, and he said they had noses like a policeman’s truncheon. No subtext there, move along!
When we got out of the hot tub, (Obama being a no-show) we realized we were in a Bavarian village, and somebody was trying to get married on a balcony (I saw my old boss François as a groomsman) at the same time there was a movie being filmed about Hitler, and the crew wanted to use the balcony at the same time as the wedding party, and I got out of Bavaria before there was a total riot. Note how all my major concerns of late are shoved into one untidy dream. Woke up smiling, even if I didn’t get to see Michael Weatherly naked.
Worked late last night. It’s boring as hell, what I was trying to do, but I tried to do it a week ago and all my scans disappeared, and then I tried to do it yesterday, and that part of the network went offline just as I was trying to complete it, so I stayed for an hour and got it done. The guys in IT are screechingly busy these days what with moves and upgrades but they are still unfailingly helpful and polite, so here’s a blessing on the lot of them. I will miss them…. after the move I won’t be sitting close to them anymore. Sigh.
I’m seriously grieving about my job change. It’s LUDICROUS. I’ve done nothing but complain about it for the best part of ten years, but now I’m realizing I secretly loved it and was just whining for attention. This makes me feel like an ijjut. We grow too soon oldt und too late schmardt.
The LHC did not trigger the end of the world; I slept fine last night, as my dreams could attest.
Katie’s here contemplating what to raid the fridge for at lunch. It’s so cute. Especially now that I know she’s sharing her lunch every day with women who forget to eat. (Women who forget to eat…. didn’t Rita Rudner have a brilliant line to do with that??)
I’m seeing Mr. Music on Friday and we’re going to run through the tunes; he’s planning on feeding me. Any guy who has a vault for a pantry HAS to be able to cook; I await the prospect with happiness. The work too.
Last night I asked Paul, mOm, Mr. Music and Katie ‘what makes a great musical’. Paul said “The tunes and how it’s put together,” Mr. Music said, “Song, story, presentation,” mOm said, “Singing and dancing!” and Katie said “Pacing and variety”. I’m going to keep asking people what they think, but I’m using Mr. Music’s useful and terse guidelines for practicality’s sake.
I light a candle for the swift recovery of my former boss Owen’s son Ryan, who’s recently out of surgery. On a less compassionate note, here’s a little squib for the swift arrival of the plumber; we’ve been waiting for a couple of days. It’s okay, it merely confirms Jeff and I in our belief that we’d be better served in a different location. Our own.
Made me cry
Lazy day
Friggin near cataplectic day, actually. I cooked, did a microscopically small amount of cleaning, I did some laundry but it was hard to get inspired when the downstairs neighbours did laundry on a day which wasn’t ‘theirs’ and I had to move stuff of theirs around, which makes me kinda anxious in case I should do something wrong and they come upstairs and confront us about it. Laundry is a touchy issue. I mean, this guy yells about everything. Spent more time communing with Meadow. She got up in Gizmo’s face at one point. I’ve never seen a cat use less energy to hiss, it was pretty funny. It was more like an expression of scorn with a breath behind it.
Jeff’s apparently taking off to go fishing with a friend for his birthday. I am thinking it will be perfect, weather, location and company wise.
We’re working our way through Huff season 1 and Buffy season 2 and while there are definitely classic shows in S2 I guess I’m looking forward to later seasons. We also watched some youtube videos last night; I wanted to see some Al Hirt and Jeff dialled up some Buddy Rich with the Boston Pops orchestra. I love having that stuff on the big screen. I know Jeff considers it a waste of a venue – taking blurry pictures and blowing them up real good – but I don’t mind the low-def aspect of it.
No videos yesterday but I practiced until my fingers were good and sore, and I think learning all those new chords is going to have a very ‘jazz hands’ effect on my songwriting over the next while. I love Happy Feet but the chord changes are hideous. I mean, really, really hideous. The F9 to B7 is not the work of a Christian, believe you me. Oh yeah, and I made Jeff watch the Happy Feet segment of King of Jazz. It’s so very wonderful…..
Two dreadful nightmares and a commute
I guess I am having fever dreams or I’m working off the last bit of sleep dep. Now, when I say I had two dreadful nightmares, I don’t have nightmares like other people, who wake up filled with existential dread and needing medication to go back to sleep; nope, I just have bad dreams. The first one involved cleaning spots off my parents’ wall. Somehow one wall in their house, which is not the house they currently live in, got COVERED in two inch across wax splatters. Think “meditation circle gone horribly wrong” and that would about cover it. And not nice white paraffin wax splatters, either, multicoloured nasty Chinese candle wax splatters that left stains. Sigh. Continue reading Two dreadful nightmares and a commute
Dreams
Last night I dreamed that I, my cousin and an unknown accomplice used a passkey to get into a stylish penthouse where we stole …shoes…. why shoes? What about jewellery and money? I am a lousy thief even in my dreams. Then she came home and was…. suspicious of these chattering women on her private stairs and like a moron I said, “We were up on the roof garden” and I ditched my bag of incriminating evidence – at the very last minute I had decided to huck some Capezios into my bag – and promptly locked myself in an extremely cold, dank, dark and disgusting room. The end.
Tonight I’m off to get fed by the Luddite, tomorrow, Tom and Peggy will be feeding me, what bliss. I like it when the major meal for the next two days is looked after.
You would never be able to tell Katie cleaned my apartment on Monday. I am a bad, bad puppy. So until I’m off for dinner, it’s cleanin’ time.
Tetris made of people
Quite literally, what it says.
It’s snowing again.
Daughter Katie’s coming over this afternoon and We Will, We Will Deadwood. Hopefully the transit system is up to the task of getting her here.
I found a hilarious critique of Libertarianism on line.
Last night I dreamed I was back in the High Park area of Toronto. I guess I’m sick of looking at stucco houses. I miss many things about Toronto; I miss seeing the CN Tower and I miss a lot of the friends I have there (Tammy, Catherine, Dave, Jan and others). I miss Kensington Market the way it was, I miss the colour of Lake Ontario on a windy fall day, I miss being able to ice skate outside in the wintertime.
Sometimes I wish I could live in three places at once, because there are things I miss about Montreal too. I miss the Dorval circle and the absolutely craziness of the town when the festivals like the Jazz festival and Just For Laughs were on; I miss how people dress with more style and drive with more verve (and frankly, consistently better than the unwashed hordes of incompetents who adorn the roads in Vancouver); I miss being able to hear Inuktitut spoken in the street; I miss skating in La Centre de la Nature in Laval, the best outdoor skating venue in Canada; I miss the wild variety of the weather, even.
Great article about dreams
Cross post from LJ
Spent the evening with Kopper and was in such an exalted state upon my return to my apartment that I couldn’t sleep. Do you suppose the exercise helped? Maybe it was the second dinner?
I composed a six minute comedy routine, recited it thrice through and spoke it into my digital recorder. All hail Lady Miss Banjola for reminding me I had one. Then I woke up with two bizarre things going on simultaneously in my cranium; I woke up dreaming that Mike was crossing from dream life into real life with me as I awoke (I was in full combat gear, and he was in civvies, carrying a package). I was point and as I came around I was going to let him have it with this extremely fine weapon I was carrying and he just grinned and said, “You won’t need that.”
At the same time a really pretty chorus was ringing in my head. In four part harmony. I mean ringing. I couldn’t get out of bed until I’d memorized it, and now I’m going to sing it into Garage Band, much to the disgust of my neighbours as I imagine.
That was a hell of a talk, girl.
Later…. This helped too.
Great party
Katie K and I had a lovely time at the party, and while we were not technically the last revellers out the door, we did just about close it. Thanks to the company providing taxi chits (!!??) we got home in decent time, too; I cleared the door at 12:21 this morning. I danced in high heels and now feel much as expected.
Last night I dreamed that I was a human motorboat, and I could zoom around these amazing crumbling islands full of nesting seabirds at about warp factor five while dolphins and other human motorboats tried to keep up with me. The worst part was not being able to see where I was going (I could only see where I’d been) but I managed not to hit anything. I suspect this has something to do with my trip to Saona Island. Happy sigh.
Zombie dream
As I am being chased (with no partic’lar sense of urgency) up and down a corridor, which is always like a corridor in an apartment I used to live in, being crooked and with doors coming off at odd angles, I’m thinking, “and just the other night I commented to Katie K that I haven’t had a nightmare in years”. Moments later I’m awake thinking, “My God, those were the SLOWest moving zombies I’ve ever seen!”
Happy Halloween!
I’m wearing a black widow outfit (self-assembled) to the office. Let’s see if I can survive the boot madness. I hate those boots, but they are the only vaguely fetish-y ones that I have.
Last night I dreamed
That my coworker RobofNine and I were uh, affected by a tornado which came ripping down 6th Ave in New Westminster. I got hauled into the air, got a severe case of the whirlies along with getting wet and ass-freezing cold, and then got spat out onto the roof of a 12 storey building, deaf, ‘winded’ and scared out of my mind. I leaned over the side of the building to get my bearings and watched Rob casually move his car out of the way of the debris. That bastard always keeps his cool!