November 11th, 2006


(no subject)

another fantastic dream last night.

a bunch of us were around an old beat up car and someone opened the handle. this set off a chain reaction in a bomb*, and we had 10 seconds to get away. i ran as fast as i could, raygunzero at my heels. we couldn't get far enough, so greg shielded me with his body, resulting in his death from getting his face blown off**. i was wracked with guilt because he had died saving ME, and i had to tell everyone else. so i came home and amidst my gut-wrenching tears, i made a journal post about it, then retreated to deal with my grief. then my mother said "what about andrea?" i panicked because out of everyone, i hadn't wanted her to learn via FONT, i wanted to tell her personally. but where was my freaking phone? i tore up the place, barely able to see through my tears, and eventually found it. i called her and she told me something profound and flat, like.. well, shoot. i wish i could remember, but it was very Chinese proverb-y, to show me that she hadn't appreciated not hearing from me directly first. the rest of the dream involved a few other random actions, but for the most part involved me walking around, sobbing, and listening to sleater kinney in his honor. i also remember a part of the dream where antialias handed faetal talkingpotato's cat, Lily***, where andrea brushed her long, luxurious red hair (like as long as a human head's) in preparation of breast feeding**** Lily. she let me put my head against Lily to hear her warm purrs, which made me feel a bit better.

* i think this part came from watching CSI last night.
** i think this part came from watching Doctor Who for the first time ever last night, as when his face was blown off, it wasn't gory, just... flat, like only his features had been blown off, but since he couldn't breathe without a nose or mouth... it was a slow death, which added to my guilt.
*** i think this part came from talking to pertato about Lily in old journal responses last night.
**** i think THIS part came from reading poor andrea's posts recently and feeling sad that i don't know how to take care of babies to give her some respite, and i certainly can't breastfeed Laurel.
disco star

(no subject)

though in looking at things, it seems like it's old news, Robert Jordan may not have long left to live. the humanitarian in me thinks "oh, man, that poor guy. what hea nd his family must be going through. dreams and wishes and thoughts and prayers to you." the selfish book reading part of me wants to say "dood. you had BEST not freaking die before you come out with your twelfth book. after all you've put us through, man."

got my pamphlet for winter classes in the mail, and i think i've already picked out my classes, subject to availability when my appointment comes up (11/21):

Beginning Piano
Music Theory II
Ear Training II

for a total of 14 credits. this, of course, all balances on the hope that i don't fail my music theory class, which i'm stupidly close to doing. i have an appointment to talk to professor ben on tuesday to explain to him my situation (though i'm going to feel ridiculous saying "hi. i have this weird new thing where i have a major meltdown if i have to even leave my house far enough to check the mail.") and to see what i can do in order to get my grade up (though i guess the 'er duh' answer would be "do your freaking homework, wench.")

though, i suppose to be a good student, i would retake chem 050 instead of spanish, because methinks that taking spanish will use up an elective that i shouldn't, though i can certainly USE spanish in the medical field. though i would rather learn russian. (i'm becoming weirdly obsessed with learning Russian, by the way.) hrm. maybe i'll rethink that. either way, i have a week or so to make up my mind, and to see what's available.