(no subject)
Feb. 24th, 2023 07:44 amDreamed that I had to kick people out of "a meeting room" (my bedroom) so I could sleep. I threw a whiteboard marker at Researcher Haystack, who was being a douchebag.
This time Belovedest made it until the afternoon before needing to come home.
Took Alex to appointment Thursday, then realized I hadn't put the pre-anesthesia phone call in my calendar about the time the phone rang.
This morning I popped out of the bad kind of dream, the sort with me needing to make a lot of noise because someone was touching me without permission and nobody seemed to care. Two points to correct guesses who it was, minus three points to correct guesses made in a venue his widow could see.
If the Strattera is contributing significantly to my digestive woes, it needs to go.
I took myself and my pre hospital homework to see about the thing with all the patches and the blips and bleeps. It's theoretically walk-in, but it was busy enough to need appointments. I went back home to find my wallet (it was in my bag all along), then back to get stickers around my tits.
After that I dropped by the grocery store. Completely out of carts, except I was lucky enough to sit on the motorized cart which has the busted battery indicator. It also doesn't beep. was it charged? Well, it got me around the store.
Two caramel apples and some miscellaneous starches later, I headed home. On my way out I observed one of the cart-guys deftly passing a cart across the main lane to a customer. I gave him the acknowledgement he deserved.
Made None Soup with Left Protein for Belovedest, who calls it Stun Soup (to smack the sinuses to order). Everyone is in bed early now.
Took Alex to appointment Thursday, then realized I hadn't put the pre-anesthesia phone call in my calendar about the time the phone rang.
This morning I popped out of the bad kind of dream, the sort with me needing to make a lot of noise because someone was touching me without permission and nobody seemed to care. Two points to correct guesses who it was, minus three points to correct guesses made in a venue his widow could see.
If the Strattera is contributing significantly to my digestive woes, it needs to go.
I took myself and my pre hospital homework to see about the thing with all the patches and the blips and bleeps. It's theoretically walk-in, but it was busy enough to need appointments. I went back home to find my wallet (it was in my bag all along), then back to get stickers around my tits.
After that I dropped by the grocery store. Completely out of carts, except I was lucky enough to sit on the motorized cart which has the busted battery indicator. It also doesn't beep. was it charged? Well, it got me around the store.
Two caramel apples and some miscellaneous starches later, I headed home. On my way out I observed one of the cart-guys deftly passing a cart across the main lane to a customer. I gave him the acknowledgement he deserved.
Made None Soup with Left Protein for Belovedest, who calls it Stun Soup (to smack the sinuses to order). Everyone is in bed early now.
snek belt?
Jul. 21st, 2022 04:08 pmTurns out it was the belt for the power steering pump that went, and I believe on Toasters of that vintage, that's the serpentine belt that also runs important functions like cooling.
We were able to get it picked up on Tuesday morning. My psych was working remotely, so instead of showing up in his office that afternoon with my "homework", I did a hasty data analysis on my carefully hand-done paper sleep charts and we talked about my nightmares. Only 4 in the 6 weeks, but a lot of bad dreams. (Last night's bad dream featured an anti-bullying initiative in schools that automatically tagged each child with their vulnerabilities. This was a Bad Idea.)
It's hot here, and I'm enjoying our mini-splits. I'm also thinking of deploying The Pool out back, but cautious of the amount of physical labor in the heat it would require.
We were able to get it picked up on Tuesday morning. My psych was working remotely, so instead of showing up in his office that afternoon with my "homework", I did a hasty data analysis on my carefully hand-done paper sleep charts and we talked about my nightmares. Only 4 in the 6 weeks, but a lot of bad dreams. (Last night's bad dream featured an anti-bullying initiative in schools that automatically tagged each child with their vulnerabilities. This was a Bad Idea.)
It's hot here, and I'm enjoying our mini-splits. I'm also thinking of deploying The Pool out back, but cautious of the amount of physical labor in the heat it would require.
More video game mechanics from dreams
Jul. 15th, 2022 12:45 pmFor whatever reason, "we" were inside an environment that could be changed by thoughts, but there was a lot going on in there already, and some thoughts were pretty damn persistent. There was surveillance scanner technology, which could read things inside structures, but not always, and a lot of things were overlooked by either the scanner AI or the technicians.
At some point the hollering hullabaloo that was vaguely Homestuck-influenced (kind of an arcade ski track freefall thing with thought-influenced battles and object reaction) shifted to more traditional sci-fi dystopia, and the surroundings became very polished white floors and white walls, with some floor stripes that responded to the presence of an identified person by color-coding themselves to that person's access levels when the scanning was completed. Black meant neutral or no access (and no access attempted), yellow and red meant bad things, green meant access granted, royal blue was a condition that the scanners were not prepared to handle, and purple was something beyond that.
My heroine (a very smart woman of color in the sciences, with small children who were just as smart) was going through some kind of situation where she had legitimate accesses but some of the people with her did not, and she was getting accesses stripped for associating with people who tripped off the scanners. There was a lot of going into places where the doors opened, and then lines on the floor lit up and one or another of the members in the party had just lost an access level and needed to leave, for the crime of confusing the scanners. Some of the party tried to shelter in little "phone booth" areas (there were no phones, but you would dodge in there if there was a sweep or a bunch of large equipment coming by), but those were also scanned and unauthorized parties rejected. Even the ones that were more passive still lit up the floor, and there were busybodies in nearby work/clearance areas who would verbally call out alerts that the system would respond to.
The most dramatic parts were the long teleportation rods -- you would hold onto what was basically a white stick, held horizontally out in front of the main party in both hands -- with hands on the white areas; the active areas would light up colors and when it was turning green (in bands around the stick) the whole party had to get a good grasp of it before the whole thing turned green and took you to the place -- and the laser demoters. The laser demoters went through a list projected on a screen and scanned down it, and the process took layers off people's clearances, and the people on the list who did not match had their names turn red, which activated a manhunt.
At some point the hollering hullabaloo that was vaguely Homestuck-influenced (kind of an arcade ski track freefall thing with thought-influenced battles and object reaction) shifted to more traditional sci-fi dystopia, and the surroundings became very polished white floors and white walls, with some floor stripes that responded to the presence of an identified person by color-coding themselves to that person's access levels when the scanning was completed. Black meant neutral or no access (and no access attempted), yellow and red meant bad things, green meant access granted, royal blue was a condition that the scanners were not prepared to handle, and purple was something beyond that.
My heroine (a very smart woman of color in the sciences, with small children who were just as smart) was going through some kind of situation where she had legitimate accesses but some of the people with her did not, and she was getting accesses stripped for associating with people who tripped off the scanners. There was a lot of going into places where the doors opened, and then lines on the floor lit up and one or another of the members in the party had just lost an access level and needed to leave, for the crime of confusing the scanners. Some of the party tried to shelter in little "phone booth" areas (there were no phones, but you would dodge in there if there was a sweep or a bunch of large equipment coming by), but those were also scanned and unauthorized parties rejected. Even the ones that were more passive still lit up the floor, and there were busybodies in nearby work/clearance areas who would verbally call out alerts that the system would respond to.
The most dramatic parts were the long teleportation rods -- you would hold onto what was basically a white stick, held horizontally out in front of the main party in both hands -- with hands on the white areas; the active areas would light up colors and when it was turning green (in bands around the stick) the whole party had to get a good grasp of it before the whole thing turned green and took you to the place -- and the laser demoters. The laser demoters went through a list projected on a screen and scanned down it, and the process took layers off people's clearances, and the people on the list who did not match had their names turn red, which activated a manhunt.
Items:
* I left the weekend in an absolute freaked-out state because ( tooth stuff and ADHD ) Belovedest was kind enough to talk me down from that enough to sleep, eventually.
* This came up at the appointment, my worry about the thing. The assistant said something very kind about the likelihood that any irritation was caused by Sunday's misadventures, and didn't see any problem, but might have wanted to leave the stitches in longer. The surgeon took a look and said I was fine and it was looking perfect, and the lower layers had survived even though the upper layers were looking gnarly. And he took out the stitches and took off the icky layer. Yay!
* My next appointment is at the end of November, to poke a hole to expose the screw socket. I will learn more about it, including details on the costs, closer to the time. I gave my dentist a heads-up. The surgeon will be sending stuff to them and they'll call me to make an appointment once they have it, sometime after the brand new piercing. (Cue "All I want for Christmas", a joke that I will continue to make until I have both of them again.)
* Dreams were super vivid, and the usual villains were in their less-venomous forms. Dad was just a frail old guy who needed encouragement to eat, and I was feeding him random chocolate bars with tapioca pearls inside. The setting was outside on my parents' property, under one of the big spruce trees. The dream with illicit fireworks and That Idiot Shawn seemed to be some kind of sequel, set in a waterfront/river place that doesn't actually exist anywhere. There were weaponized bees (bees were there and we used our knowledge to evade stings while getting pursuing bad guys to run afoul) and polluted no-go zones and a lot of those surfboard-like things with the little sails. And somehow a little magical mechanical dragon toy that kept getting used by different sides in a family argument to win the fight.
* Therapy brought up elementary school, for next time, and I had yet another insight that makes me mad about it all over again. I can see why the teachers made some of the decisions they did, but ARGH. The insight was about seating several children with ADHD in a row, except it was alternating hyperactive and inattentive. If I had been asked at the time, I would have even been able to articulate the problem, even though I didn't know I had ADHD. I did know that my learning was being severely affected by being seated directly next to other children who were going off-topic and stimming and whatever it was that small boys with hyperactivity on the scale of Fucking Calvin do in 2nd grade. I didn't know that I was disproportionately affected by it; I thought that was what everyone had to go through.
* I left the weekend in an absolute freaked-out state because ( tooth stuff and ADHD ) Belovedest was kind enough to talk me down from that enough to sleep, eventually.
* This came up at the appointment, my worry about the thing. The assistant said something very kind about the likelihood that any irritation was caused by Sunday's misadventures, and didn't see any problem, but might have wanted to leave the stitches in longer. The surgeon took a look and said I was fine and it was looking perfect, and the lower layers had survived even though the upper layers were looking gnarly. And he took out the stitches and took off the icky layer. Yay!
* My next appointment is at the end of November, to poke a hole to expose the screw socket. I will learn more about it, including details on the costs, closer to the time. I gave my dentist a heads-up. The surgeon will be sending stuff to them and they'll call me to make an appointment once they have it, sometime after the brand new piercing. (Cue "All I want for Christmas", a joke that I will continue to make until I have both of them again.)
* Dreams were super vivid, and the usual villains were in their less-venomous forms. Dad was just a frail old guy who needed encouragement to eat, and I was feeding him random chocolate bars with tapioca pearls inside. The setting was outside on my parents' property, under one of the big spruce trees. The dream with illicit fireworks and That Idiot Shawn seemed to be some kind of sequel, set in a waterfront/river place that doesn't actually exist anywhere. There were weaponized bees (bees were there and we used our knowledge to evade stings while getting pursuing bad guys to run afoul) and polluted no-go zones and a lot of those surfboard-like things with the little sails. And somehow a little magical mechanical dragon toy that kept getting used by different sides in a family argument to win the fight.
* Therapy brought up elementary school, for next time, and I had yet another insight that makes me mad about it all over again. I can see why the teachers made some of the decisions they did, but ARGH. The insight was about seating several children with ADHD in a row, except it was alternating hyperactive and inattentive. If I had been asked at the time, I would have even been able to articulate the problem, even though I didn't know I had ADHD. I did know that my learning was being severely affected by being seated directly next to other children who were going off-topic and stimming and whatever it was that small boys with hyperactivity on the scale of Fucking Calvin do in 2nd grade. I didn't know that I was disproportionately affected by it; I thought that was what everyone had to go through.
First, it is the Glorious 25th, and Towel Day. A good day to think about busting corrupt systems and having universal basic income and the other necessities of life.
Yesterday I gave blood in the morning, and went and got deferred again in the afternoon. 2nd of 3 in a preventative vaccine series. I set up the donation the day before.
Dream-brain combined the avian influenza with the monkeypox to form a highly contagious pox disease that meant that any livestock that caught it had to be slaughtered, no matter how cherished. And I was a novice vet and pilot.
This coincided with a dream of some really breathtaking cruelty from my dad. In this dream he had faked what looked like closed adoption records and was answering all the phone numbers that I was trying to call to find out more.
My psychiatrist had the unusual thought that maybe waking up from a bad dream might leave you with a sense of happiness to be out of the nightmare world. But in addition to the chemical hangover from the very real stress hormones, the brain does its best to drag out very real fears and assemble them into something very new and horrifying.
The good part of The BFG was examining the combination of dream elements and how neutral to pleasant things could be very bad when recontextualized with each other and reality.
So the good part of waking up today is that at least I was able to sleep enough.
House: Ev is still interviewing people/companies to do the fixing, and quotes are coming in. The dog door is patched. The kitchen side wall of the mangled closet is load bearing. (We should really tell the drywall guy about that, because it changes the situation considerably.)
Yesterday I gave blood in the morning, and went and got deferred again in the afternoon. 2nd of 3 in a preventative vaccine series. I set up the donation the day before.
Dream-brain combined the avian influenza with the monkeypox to form a highly contagious pox disease that meant that any livestock that caught it had to be slaughtered, no matter how cherished. And I was a novice vet and pilot.
This coincided with a dream of some really breathtaking cruelty from my dad. In this dream he had faked what looked like closed adoption records and was answering all the phone numbers that I was trying to call to find out more.
My psychiatrist had the unusual thought that maybe waking up from a bad dream might leave you with a sense of happiness to be out of the nightmare world. But in addition to the chemical hangover from the very real stress hormones, the brain does its best to drag out very real fears and assemble them into something very new and horrifying.
The good part of The BFG was examining the combination of dream elements and how neutral to pleasant things could be very bad when recontextualized with each other and reality.
So the good part of waking up today is that at least I was able to sleep enough.
House: Ev is still interviewing people/companies to do the fixing, and quotes are coming in. The dog door is patched. The kitchen side wall of the mangled closet is load bearing. (We should really tell the drywall guy about that, because it changes the situation considerably.)
Sleep graph: graph stamp
May. 6th, 2022 08:15 amhttps://azurelunatic.dreamwidth.org/7881518.html
March: drawing each little box with a calendar template.
April: stamping rows of boxes, not aligned well.
May: stamping a grid, with only one major misalignment.
There are key rows, lest I get lost and forget where hour 10 is. The day-of-month boxes are colored with my day-of-week rainbow colors.
Last night my phone forcibly rebooted itself (it had been a while) and I didn't really notice but it came back up without accelerometer. So my sleep record last night is flat despite the usual forays to the bathroom and the occasional flipping of sides. When it was time to feed the yell, I stopped sleep tracking and rebooted. So if I get more sleep, at least that should be (nice and) accurate.
The Yell had some indications of mild kidney woe at her last checkup, so we have been adding water to her food. She has complaints about the accuracy of the service in this establishment, as well as the speed. She ordered breakfast, not soup!
Weird dreams again, as is typical. An author went missing and all attempts to contact her after some kind of melon cart collision went unanswered. She later emerged for the award ceremony, to everyone's relief. An old friend came to visit and court, but that was complicated by mask situations. (Hilariously, my brain substituted respirator style masks for both the expected mouth and nose mask, and also the inevitable "bathing suit area" barrier. With a long intercontinental flight, a respirator may well have been practical, but I'm stumped about my brain's substitution in the other matter.)
March: drawing each little box with a calendar template.
April: stamping rows of boxes, not aligned well.
May: stamping a grid, with only one major misalignment.
There are key rows, lest I get lost and forget where hour 10 is. The day-of-month boxes are colored with my day-of-week rainbow colors.
Last night my phone forcibly rebooted itself (it had been a while) and I didn't really notice but it came back up without accelerometer. So my sleep record last night is flat despite the usual forays to the bathroom and the occasional flipping of sides. When it was time to feed the yell, I stopped sleep tracking and rebooted. So if I get more sleep, at least that should be (nice and) accurate.
The Yell had some indications of mild kidney woe at her last checkup, so we have been adding water to her food. She has complaints about the accuracy of the service in this establishment, as well as the speed. She ordered breakfast, not soup!
Weird dreams again, as is typical. An author went missing and all attempts to contact her after some kind of melon cart collision went unanswered. She later emerged for the award ceremony, to everyone's relief. An old friend came to visit and court, but that was complicated by mask situations. (Hilariously, my brain substituted respirator style masks for both the expected mouth and nose mask, and also the inevitable "bathing suit area" barrier. With a long intercontinental flight, a respirator may well have been practical, but I'm stumped about my brain's substitution in the other matter.)
Going silver
Apr. 28th, 2022 10:27 amAs I discovered in the shower this morning, I am starting to shed very fine silver hairs in addition to the usual dark ones. Which become functionally invisible when wet.
Oh, the joys I will have when attempting to spot the hair I can absolutely feel tickling my arm when I move...
(I am extremely excited about the prospect of white and silver hair, because it's going to be glittery AF, and also much easier to dye blue.)
Bonus dream: I nearly fell into a 6'+ deep hole for a storm drain (the grating was at the bottom) and spent several minutes struggling my way out of danger. Purple arrived, hugged me, and played a video from a recent convention to distract me. In it, Richard Dawkins had been making an ass of himself and not responding to reason, so Purple decided to speak to him in a language perhaps he could understand.
https://youtu.be/TugslL45aXk
[Video: "don't argue with an ibex", in which the host tries to ask questions of an ibex, who brays and spits as a response.]
This was hilarious and had the intended effect. (Both of making Dawkins huff off, and of cheering me up.) I awoke still upset from the mishap, but feeling loved.
Oh, the joys I will have when attempting to spot the hair I can absolutely feel tickling my arm when I move...
(I am extremely excited about the prospect of white and silver hair, because it's going to be glittery AF, and also much easier to dye blue.)
Bonus dream: I nearly fell into a 6'+ deep hole for a storm drain (the grating was at the bottom) and spent several minutes struggling my way out of danger. Purple arrived, hugged me, and played a video from a recent convention to distract me. In it, Richard Dawkins had been making an ass of himself and not responding to reason, so Purple decided to speak to him in a language perhaps he could understand.
https://youtu.be/TugslL45aXk
[Video: "don't argue with an ibex", in which the host tries to ask questions of an ibex, who brays and spits as a response.]
This was hilarious and had the intended effect. (Both of making Dawkins huff off, and of cheering me up.) I awoke still upset from the mishap, but feeling loved.
Just before my phone woke me up: a dream about found family, assembling a family from war surplus spare parts, who were Russian Cold War robots who had meanwhile learned to love and trust, with some amusing cat related interludes. (There was a small angry calico kitten who loved only Murderface, who tolerated her.)
When the signal was maliciously sent in by a 3rd party who had raided the archives of the defunct state, the AIs found that they would really rather trust each other, despite the potential double meanings they found in their family's messages. Nothing bad happened.
When the signal was maliciously sent in by a 3rd party who had raided the archives of the defunct state, the AIs found that they would really rather trust each other, despite the potential double meanings they found in their family's messages. Nothing bad happened.
Too many thing, and the memory of a pet
Apr. 21st, 2022 09:22 pmMy dreams have been staying at detailed and stressful, though generally the details fade shortly after I wake up. ( Read more... )
This morning, I was just dropping back off to sleep when Yellface decided it was screamin' time. Oops.
( All the errands )
Upon arrival home, I would have gone flomp, except the box from my mom with the fragiles had arrived. Several floppies. (I have a USB floppy reader somewhere, possibly downstairs.) A clay sculpture I'd made, fire-inspired. Two wooden sculptures. I haven't quite figured out where the solid squirrel goes.
My honorary aunt does wood sculpture, you see. She was once told "No, you cannot enter taxidermy in this, this is a wood sculpture show." She then invited this gatekeeper to touch the bird. Her work appeared in the show.
One year, one of the hens died. She was Coco's sister. We preserved her in the freezer (as one does) and handed her over to my aunt. I was a terrible child and did not appreciate it properly at the time, but it was still a remarkable likeness, and the delicate haughtiness came through extremely well.
The delicate hen went into the display case, and the only reasonable place to put her worked out much better than I'd anticipated. I figured I could have her peeking out from behind the large figure of Strength (the lion is tamed, she is winged), because that seemed like the only place that someone of her size could go.
The pose put her head in a great relationship to the dragon with their hoard. It looks exactly as though she is looking at the hoard and considering whether or not to peck it. As she often looked at things in life.
Ev update: today she closed on the house! Keys in mid-late May, actual occupancy sometime after the major repairs (tree removal, roof, cosmetic floor replacement, leaking window replacement). Right now I'm compiling a list of things for Day 1. I feel a little silly as The Adult, but as a person who has Done a Couple Move and made some notable mistakes (ALWAYS have suitable drinking items ready!) ... I guess I'm nominated?
This morning, I was just dropping back off to sleep when Yellface decided it was screamin' time. Oops.
( All the errands )
Upon arrival home, I would have gone flomp, except the box from my mom with the fragiles had arrived. Several floppies. (I have a USB floppy reader somewhere, possibly downstairs.) A clay sculpture I'd made, fire-inspired. Two wooden sculptures. I haven't quite figured out where the solid squirrel goes.
My honorary aunt does wood sculpture, you see. She was once told "No, you cannot enter taxidermy in this, this is a wood sculpture show." She then invited this gatekeeper to touch the bird. Her work appeared in the show.
One year, one of the hens died. She was Coco's sister. We preserved her in the freezer (as one does) and handed her over to my aunt. I was a terrible child and did not appreciate it properly at the time, but it was still a remarkable likeness, and the delicate haughtiness came through extremely well.
The delicate hen went into the display case, and the only reasonable place to put her worked out much better than I'd anticipated. I figured I could have her peeking out from behind the large figure of Strength (the lion is tamed, she is winged), because that seemed like the only place that someone of her size could go.
The pose put her head in a great relationship to the dragon with their hoard. It looks exactly as though she is looking at the hoard and considering whether or not to peck it. As she often looked at things in life.
Ev update: today she closed on the house! Keys in mid-late May, actual occupancy sometime after the major repairs (tree removal, roof, cosmetic floor replacement, leaking window replacement). Right now I'm compiling a list of things for Day 1. I feel a little silly as The Adult, but as a person who has Done a Couple Move and made some notable mistakes (ALWAYS have suitable drinking items ready!) ... I guess I'm nominated?
Things learned
Apr. 18th, 2022 03:12 amCostco does close for Easter.
My appreciation for sausage mcmuffins continues, even when the titular muffin is mangled.
Dawn is doing okay! We shared cat updates.
Target also closes for Easter.
The Bad Place doesn't.
Hard shirts don't appreciate my boobs.
I do not like a particular brand of 4x daily pill boxes, even if it looks like only one was broken. The lids need more prying than I want.
Too little brandy in a brandy slush makes it freeze over like an ice skating rink.
A cup that has a screw on lid with a straw hole through a bowl is an amazing form factor for portable snacking, but it should not be sipped from while reclining too deeply.
I very much like combining obnoxiously bright colors with black, for clothing and accessories.
Sometimes despite everything, ADHDers procrastinate shit.
The sign up process for ID.me has a bug in the take pictures with your phone workflow. If one image is rejected, it will not send you a new phone link, you have to be able to upload from local storage
I may submit feedback.
The poor ID.me worker was able to send an audio call to my phone when the microphone situation was fucked.
Food is still difficult for me.
Link to Erik's entry probably to follow, but my "the bad kind of fun" is types 2.51 - 3 in that one little illustration.
Yellface occasionally will stay up until I come to bed.
My appreciation for sausage mcmuffins continues, even when the titular muffin is mangled.
Dawn is doing okay! We shared cat updates.
Target also closes for Easter.
The Bad Place doesn't.
Hard shirts don't appreciate my boobs.
I do not like a particular brand of 4x daily pill boxes, even if it looks like only one was broken. The lids need more prying than I want.
Too little brandy in a brandy slush makes it freeze over like an ice skating rink.
A cup that has a screw on lid with a straw hole through a bowl is an amazing form factor for portable snacking, but it should not be sipped from while reclining too deeply.
I very much like combining obnoxiously bright colors with black, for clothing and accessories.
Sometimes despite everything, ADHDers procrastinate shit.
The sign up process for ID.me has a bug in the take pictures with your phone workflow. If one image is rejected, it will not send you a new phone link, you have to be able to upload from local storage
I may submit feedback.
The poor ID.me worker was able to send an audio call to my phone when the microphone situation was fucked.
Food is still difficult for me.
Link to Erik's entry probably to follow, but my "the bad kind of fun" is types 2.51 - 3 in that one little illustration.
Yellface occasionally will stay up until I come to bed.
More games that don't exist
Apr. 8th, 2022 11:53 amDreamed about a social merge game with a stigma aspect being used in a semi-college setting, instead of teaching a subject. After learning the mechanic firsthand, I refused to play anymore. That was also unacceptable.
I began to proactively target the people who found me an acceptable target, to demonstrate the inherent unfairness. They were upset at the reversal of the "natural order" and began plotting how to administratively and violently destroy me. Because I couldn't possibly have an acceptable reason to be at college, clearly, since I was the wrong type of person.
After that I demonstrated that the level after the stigmatized levels were a leveled up and more powerful deck. I was still not the correct kind of person.
I began to proactively target the people who found me an acceptable target, to demonstrate the inherent unfairness. They were upset at the reversal of the "natural order" and began plotting how to administratively and violently destroy me. Because I couldn't possibly have an acceptable reason to be at college, clearly, since I was the wrong type of person.
After that I demonstrated that the level after the stigmatized levels were a leveled up and more powerful deck. I was still not the correct kind of person.
Home is beginning to take shape in my dreams. The freeway featured in last night's dream where a headphone and scarily accurate Google chat feature allowed Steph to voluntarily listen to me while I was going about my business. Also there was a receipt printer that would allow short stories to be prepended or appended to the takeout order, up to five programmed in at once. I had to wade through ankle high snow to get involved in the car collision that was the genesis of the idea.
When I was trying to walk home after that (IRL that would be a bad plan with my current body) someone waved me over to the other side of the highway-crossing bridge to try to recruit me for a voter outreach program, which mostly involved standing around in public places interacting with people. I allowed as how this would be a bad idea, medically.
Dude (looked a lot like an older Nate who had been through some rough stuff) started going into his own medical issues, and how he was on "a lot" of medication. (Insert hollow laugh in Spoonie here.) He was telling me about how much medication he was on in language that would be deliberately shocking to someone who had "never been sick a day in their lives" (roll eyes here) but to someone who sometimes gets two bags at the pharmacy the reaction was more "oh is that all". (I know, I know, disability is not a competition, except in the good ol' USA we make it one in order to make sure that anyone getting help has the "correct" guilty Protestant work ethic.) I started thinking about how to best phrase the fact that it's not that my meds knock me out, it's that my legs don't work right.
At this point one of "Nate's" compatriots stuck her head in (literally, she leaned over to get her head in the zone of conversation, and the dream gave me the beautiful visual of her waist-length straight black hair swishing) and said that HER rule to stay healthy was to never be on more than 50mg of anything.
I did not do a violence.
Instead I huffed off, complained to![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
xinef, who was sympathetic, and headed to the art building to pick up a canvas and my paints. Because the way to show that ignorant so-and-so was, clearly, to paint my medication and title it "self-portrait". On the way I complained to Steph and started sketching the outline of a different self-portrait, one where I was wearing the pharmacy bag as a hat.
Naturally, the group who had formed because several of us were also heading to the art building overheard the complaints. One of them started giving her opinion on the art, saying that I should actually be painting the portrait of someone who liked hiking and had devoted his life to improving our woodlands. I didn't do a violence to her either. (Steph approved. More of my declining to get in trouble than my declining to do a minor violence.)
There was one last hiking obstacle between me and the building, which of course was the many-floored square building where some of the #cupcake guys had a fishbowl-type glass windowed office (architecture from a previous dream). The obstacle was an extremely sheer concrete-bricked cliff-hill. We started scrambling up it. The last few inches had bad grips and I couldn't make it over the top. So I scrambled down and used the (also extremely steep) handrailed staircase.
I hadn't actually started painting by the time I woke up, but now an acrylic painting of my meds as a self-portrait is on my list.
When I was trying to walk home after that (IRL that would be a bad plan with my current body) someone waved me over to the other side of the highway-crossing bridge to try to recruit me for a voter outreach program, which mostly involved standing around in public places interacting with people. I allowed as how this would be a bad idea, medically.
Dude (looked a lot like an older Nate who had been through some rough stuff) started going into his own medical issues, and how he was on "a lot" of medication. (Insert hollow laugh in Spoonie here.) He was telling me about how much medication he was on in language that would be deliberately shocking to someone who had "never been sick a day in their lives" (roll eyes here) but to someone who sometimes gets two bags at the pharmacy the reaction was more "oh is that all". (I know, I know, disability is not a competition, except in the good ol' USA we make it one in order to make sure that anyone getting help has the "correct" guilty Protestant work ethic.) I started thinking about how to best phrase the fact that it's not that my meds knock me out, it's that my legs don't work right.
At this point one of "Nate's" compatriots stuck her head in (literally, she leaned over to get her head in the zone of conversation, and the dream gave me the beautiful visual of her waist-length straight black hair swishing) and said that HER rule to stay healthy was to never be on more than 50mg of anything.
I did not do a violence.
Instead I huffed off, complained to
xinef, who was sympathetic, and headed to the art building to pick up a canvas and my paints. Because the way to show that ignorant so-and-so was, clearly, to paint my medication and title it "self-portrait". On the way I complained to Steph and started sketching the outline of a different self-portrait, one where I was wearing the pharmacy bag as a hat. Naturally, the group who had formed because several of us were also heading to the art building overheard the complaints. One of them started giving her opinion on the art, saying that I should actually be painting the portrait of someone who liked hiking and had devoted his life to improving our woodlands. I didn't do a violence to her either. (Steph approved. More of my declining to get in trouble than my declining to do a minor violence.)
There was one last hiking obstacle between me and the building, which of course was the many-floored square building where some of the #cupcake guys had a fishbowl-type glass windowed office (architecture from a previous dream). The obstacle was an extremely sheer concrete-bricked cliff-hill. We started scrambling up it. The last few inches had bad grips and I couldn't make it over the top. So I scrambled down and used the (also extremely steep) handrailed staircase.
I hadn't actually started painting by the time I woke up, but now an acrylic painting of my meds as a self-portrait is on my list.
( dreams )
It took me a while to get coherent after waking up. Eventually I proposed shopping. Belovedest agreed, then observed that there had been a Pokemon event that was ending in about five minutes. We showered, then they went down to the park. I scheduled a shopping expedition based on what I thought Costco's closing time was, 7 pm, and planned to pick up Belovedest from the park sometime between 5:30 and 5:45, so we could get to Costco with a good hour before closing time. As we pulled into the Costco parking lot, we realized we had more like ... 10 minutes. They close at 6 on winter Saturdays.
So we did a Costco speed run. Fortunately there were not very many things on that side of the list, and we made it to the registers before the last of the stragglers. (There were not motorized carts, so I will probably pay for my audacity tomorrow.)
I drove us to Safeway via a few Pokestops. We waited in the car while some sort of altercation died down in the parking lot. At least, when things said include "I AM THE MARK OF THE BEAST!", "Bring it!", and body-shaming slurs, and at that volume, we assume it's an altercation. (Tailoring and altercations, reasonable prices!)
Not all of the necessary Pokemonning was complete at that point, and I proposed driving home via a more scenic route to try and spin more stops and catch more 'mons. The scenic route took ... a little while. And went out of our way. When it wrapped up, I was semi-intentionally by McDonald's, and we got food. (Generally, we do not keep score in this relationship. But I was getting more tired-er, and more hungry-er, and Belovedest was already thinking of it as *(interrupted for computer malfunction) To absolutely even the balance out, I requested the dinner so nobody has to think of it as an Extraordinary Favor going forward.)
(The UPS took offense to the toaster, as near as I can figure.)
Belovedest was thinking of my helping out with a situation that could have been averted if they'd checked for a notification as some sort of Above and Beyond, guiltily.
It took me a while to get coherent after waking up. Eventually I proposed shopping. Belovedest agreed, then observed that there had been a Pokemon event that was ending in about five minutes. We showered, then they went down to the park. I scheduled a shopping expedition based on what I thought Costco's closing time was, 7 pm, and planned to pick up Belovedest from the park sometime between 5:30 and 5:45, so we could get to Costco with a good hour before closing time. As we pulled into the Costco parking lot, we realized we had more like ... 10 minutes. They close at 6 on winter Saturdays.
So we did a Costco speed run. Fortunately there were not very many things on that side of the list, and we made it to the registers before the last of the stragglers. (There were not motorized carts, so I will probably pay for my audacity tomorrow.)
I drove us to Safeway via a few Pokestops. We waited in the car while some sort of altercation died down in the parking lot. At least, when things said include "I AM THE MARK OF THE BEAST!", "Bring it!", and body-shaming slurs, and at that volume, we assume it's an altercation. (Tailoring and altercations, reasonable prices!)
Not all of the necessary Pokemonning was complete at that point, and I proposed driving home via a more scenic route to try and spin more stops and catch more 'mons. The scenic route took ... a little while. And went out of our way. When it wrapped up, I was semi-intentionally by McDonald's, and we got food. (Generally, we do not keep score in this relationship. But I was getting more tired-er, and more hungry-er, and Belovedest was already thinking of it as *(interrupted for computer malfunction) To absolutely even the balance out, I requested the dinner so nobody has to think of it as an Extraordinary Favor going forward.)
(The UPS took offense to the toaster, as near as I can figure.)
Belovedest was thinking of my helping out with a situation that could have been averted if they'd checked for a notification as some sort of Above and Beyond, guiltily.
Set in the place with the dark wood paneled rooms that go higher and smaller, which is theatre-adjacent. Complex Rube Goldberg situation with off-brand Good Omens, where the powers were trying to neutralize each other with various helpful spirits we met along the way contributing their unique powers. The nasty demon finally pulled out what he thought was a secret winning move: the child we were protecting had the powers of the antichrist and could reverse the final locking-up and destroy everything if he wanted to. He looked expectantly at the child. "But why would I want to?" they asked, and instead of releasing the dreadful weapon they crumpled it like the squished machine with an empty aluminum can, and then it collapsed into Nothing.
Earlier ( Read more... )
Earlier ( Read more... )
Quiet day, mostly gaming
Jan. 22nd, 2022 11:53 pmAn intense set of dreams. The ones I can remember included Darkside and Purple, and (later) Radius. The setting was more or less the place with the hallways made of ramps that endlessly descend. I was going against the grain of the hallways, doing something in a very quartermaster's gofer kind of role.
Mama's box of keyboards arrived, also with some software and a stray audio CD that was marked for me in '09; a local band's performance in a coffee shop on one particular evening. We listened to that. It felt like sitting contentedly off in a corner while the rest of the family played assorted instruments.
Escape Calico adopted the box as soon as I turned it up on its side.
Belovedest made some french toast; Alex helped with the assembly of the soaking liquid.
Mama's box of keyboards arrived, also with some software and a stray audio CD that was marked for me in '09; a local band's performance in a coffee shop on one particular evening. We listened to that. It felt like sitting contentedly off in a corner while the rest of the family played assorted instruments.
Escape Calico adopted the box as soon as I turned it up on its side.
Belovedest made some french toast; Alex helped with the assembly of the soaking liquid.
a random assortment of recent goings-on
Nov. 12th, 2015 12:14 amTuesday lunch: hmm, it's noon-thirty, and Purple's gone idle. I wonder -- nah, he sends the lunch ping, I bet he got caught up in a meeting. *proceeds with inbox*
THE PHONE RINGS.
"So uh, I forgot to send the lunch ping... we've only been sitting down for 5, 10 minutes..."
Sudden rush of warmth. I ping Mr. Tux and waltz off to join my friends. I am wanted, and ultimately not forgotten.
Purple's been working late hours. I am sympathetic, but can't do much other than share my pomegranate. He's typically not a pomegranate kind of guy, but I've been finding unexpectedly non-bitter ones to share. Today's was bitter-er (I warned him, he tasted and was all "yup", so I didn't offer more).
On my way in to work, the sun hit the nails I'd polished last night. "That's bathing suit color!" I thought, inexplicably.
Hilarious misunderstanding with the Dean over a venue. My group is in fact doing two large-group things in quick succession, so the two tickets were fully legit.
I had a weird succession of dreams last night. The first, and fully printable, one was about a hackerspace situation ( Read more... )
THE PHONE RINGS.
"So uh, I forgot to send the lunch ping... we've only been sitting down for 5, 10 minutes..."
Sudden rush of warmth. I ping Mr. Tux and waltz off to join my friends. I am wanted, and ultimately not forgotten.
Purple's been working late hours. I am sympathetic, but can't do much other than share my pomegranate. He's typically not a pomegranate kind of guy, but I've been finding unexpectedly non-bitter ones to share. Today's was bitter-er (I warned him, he tasted and was all "yup", so I didn't offer more).
On my way in to work, the sun hit the nails I'd polished last night. "That's bathing suit color!" I thought, inexplicably.
Hilarious misunderstanding with the Dean over a venue. My group is in fact doing two large-group things in quick succession, so the two tickets were fully legit.
I had a weird succession of dreams last night. The first, and fully printable, one was about a hackerspace situation ( Read more... )
- Tue, 22:02: Photo: rainnecassidy: queen-arawelo: montrealgod: djsample876: montrealgod: the shade is real 🌚 But y'all... http://t.co/P7UD5tKyaY
- Tue, 23:30: RT @radleybalko: TSA is apparently allowed to post photos of the contents of your carry-on to Twitter, even if you've broken no laws. https…
- Tue, 23:34: RT @rstevens: and you may ask yourself is there a gluten free option
- Tue, 23:34: RT @TheChuff: @rstevens "This is not my bulletproof coffee. This is not my paleo wife."
- Tue, 23:35: RT @Alakbarov_: This is why we love #Scotland: The rail replacement service. #Scottishhumour http://t.co/NjYg055ftd
- Wed, 00:58: Periodic reminder: avatars of penguins, kitchen fires, and tiny specks on mountains don't help faceblind me recognize you at work.
- Wed, 01:03: My fitbit #Fitstats_en_US for 6/30/2015: 5,493 steps and 2.4 miles traveled. http://t.co/gFMrr7HEB6
- Wed, 05:36: weird, unsettling dreams about flying vampires & a crowded (4th of July?) field with an active shooter & people returning fire.
