Yvi

Middle school was fabulous today. This is, in fact, possible. We got to read a story about a selchie, which was bonus fun and freaked out about half the class. If you're Scottish, you will, at some point in your life, run into a seal who can change into a person. Trufax.

So, uh, I feel a little guilty for making a post solely in order to link to ONTD, but I need to do homework and you all need to enjoy the sight of Tom Hardy wearing a Batman t-shirt and having an oral fixation.

Also arms. We like arms.

(And I dreamed I was hanging out in a coffee shop with JGL, only he was Asian and had impeccably painted nails and confessed to filling prompts on the kink meme in order to distract himself from his receding hairline, so I guess it wasn't really JGL but maybe my subconscious wishes it was. WHAT.)

Finished my grad school essays, have a tutoring gig and fun times with Panthalassa planned for tomorrow, and now I just need to send off the last of my paperwork and wait. Whew.

Last night, I had the weirdest dream. It was a mash-up of Glee and Inception, with Eames doling out cigars and Sam accidentally setting Kurt's hair on fire in his sleep and Ariadne was, like, my conscience and wouldn't stop narrating everything. My dreams always seem to have narrators.

Now let's talk about how fabulously autumnal has the weather been here. Boot weather for sure. The perfect time for me to express my love through songs that remind me of the season! Some of them are a little lonely and chilly, some of them are like running outside and not stopping even though the wind is freezing and you can't feel your feet because it's just that kind of day, and some of them are just the kind of music you curl up with while you're hanging around the house with your Snuggie and a mug of hot chocolate.

So, yeah. Go forth.



( Boot Weather )

Additionally.

Last night I dreamed I was in a bookstore and came across a YA novel titled What Will Happen When the Zombies Come? The cover looked so familiar and I was really excited because I was sure I'd encountered some heretofore-forgotten book I'd read back in the day.

So I Googled it when I got up and apparently it doesn't exist yet, BUT MAYBE IT SHOULD.

I think I might have to write a novel.

The night before that, I dreamed I was drawing all over my sheets (not that I have sheets, since Korea doesn't roll that way) while half-asleep and actually managed to turn out some pretty impressive artwork. Then I dreamed I woke up, but my conscious mind knew I wasn't really awake, so that made me try to actually wake up, only I got the good ol' sleep paralysis smackdown.

And hallucinated Iphy standing by my bed. Since sleep paralysis never fails to freak me out (I don't care if it's an awesome springboard for astral projection and some people try to deliberately induce the state OMFGWHYYYY?), I tried to scream at her to help me wake up, but she just sort of stood there in a vaguely not-corporeal way.

I think tonight instead of sleeping I'll write about zombies. Not even kidding.

Um, I also haven't been posting much because I went on the fritz in Itaewon last weekend and can't think of much else to write except what a dunce I am. So, just to get it out of my system, I'm a dunce.

...but a dunce who has been to a Korean reggae concert.

The other night I dreamed I was trapped in PPTH, and Pontius Pilate (from the 2000 version of Jesus Christ Superstar) showed up to tell me the hospital was on fire and that I should make sure House got out safely. I couldn't find him, though I did find Chase and Cameron passed out in separate beds in one of the patient's rooms, and ended up yelling "Pilate!" in frustration at the top of my lungs.

Apparently the hospital was burning very, very slowly, since I never saw any smoke or fire. But I'm sort of wondering what would happen if House did get caught in a fire. Aside from massive amounts of angst and/or hurt/comfort.

Also, I got a job offer from a charter school in Maryland (too far and not well-paying enough, even as a temporary position, though; I'm not shelling out that much for gas/parking/metro) and a language school in Cairo (which I'm going to decline because it's not a very good package and I'd really rather do Korea). Went in to talk to a couple high-level temp places this week and managed to get an interview for tomorrow morning with a company Temp Place #2 found for me. So ideally, I'll get that job for a few months, get all my papers in order (got my background check done, going to call and make sure my transcripts are on the way, and plan to get the apostille stamp as soon as I can). So I might not be working right now, but I'm definitely busy. Which is something.

Gonna go trot on the treadmill before the next phone call. Gaaaah.

lol what

I keep meaning to write down my dreams because they always seem like they would make such cool stories. But, dude. If this is how I write when I'm still half-dreaming at the time, then I should probably mind a new method of dream-keeping. Or maybe start a new religion.

She knew the myth. A peach-faced Phasuen (Persephone?), sequestered in the darkness, drawn to the after-dwelling and stripped of her oversoul for her own good. Like wearing too many jackets on top of each other, the oversoul, the center soul, the inner soul. Harmonious, when a person is in touch with all three and can keep them in tune—similar to the four humors, etc. Different parts of the human politic at odds with each other unless circumstances let them be. And here she was, leading Phasuen in the form of Heiranye.

Oh, and nakeno fell sideways off a very high ladder. That was upsetting.

ETA: In the dream. Not real life.

Two nights ago, I dreamed my own crackbaby episode of House. PotW was a twelve-year-old girl who turned out to be dying because of chemicals in the makeup some Malificent-like woman had been brushing on her. I don't know if the woman was a scam artist or a slave trader, but she had a dozen or so preteen girls she used as models for runway shows and theatrical performances. Her gimmick was painting and making them up to look like dolls. They would totter out swathed in lace and burlap with trains ten feet long, faces done up to look like cracked china, and do things like freeze in contorted positions and raise their arms desperately towards the light as if they were terrified of being in darkness.

It was actually a really gorgeous effect, albeit insanely creepy. Maybe I should steer clear of Project Runway.

Then last night, I couldn't sleep yet again, because my brain is smart like that and wants none of what my subconscious has been smokin', kthx.

I ended up looking at Wikipedia pages for Sesame Street characters.

It's always fun to reassess childhood things with an adult eye. I totally never realized Count von Count was such a playa, but he totally is. Wiki's right, he's the only character to have an acknowledged love life, and has apparently been through at least two or three different Countesses. Scandalous!

And, having scrapped a thousand words and replaced them with considerably less than that, I think I might actually be done with my Cuddy-and-Amber-do-it-in-a-gazebo fic.

Shut up, it's an awesome idea. Seriously. Seriously.

recrudescence: ...I dreamed I met RSL. This has got to stop. Though he complimented my neck, which was nice of him.
nakeno: XD
nakeno: What a nice neck you have...
nakeno: Better for necking, my dear, you reply.
recrudescence: He actually said something like "You have a really long neck. Like it broke the laws of physics and reset them," or something weird. But I was sure he was trying to be nice.
nakeno: XD
nakeno: I told a camp counsler something like that once.
recrudescence: Then he said he had girls back at his hotel room and I wanted to laugh because a) he was totally heading out of the hotel b) he's totally engaged and c) he's totally overcompensating for his flagrant faggotry like always.

Whywhywhy do I keep falling asleep? I swear I'm getting enough without all this extra napping. And the recurring RSL dreams are getting weird.

Last night, I dreamed my father found my fic.

And left me a review on one of the NC-17 ones. Something like "Wow, very nice job! --Dad".

It was kind of terrifying.

Oh, man. I had a supremely strange dream last night in which House, trying to make Wilson jealous, started dating his ex-wife. As in, House and Julie were having picnics and picking out heart-shaped platters and he was acting completely civil. If I were Wilson, I think I would have thrown up.

I woke up wondering why in the world I'd thought that was a good idea for a fic, then was very proud of myself for not having actually done so.

And today, I unwittingly reenacted another commerical. While turning onto the highway on my way to work, I saw how slow the traffic was and promptly released an operatic "fuuuuuck!" And then, because it's what I normally do for breakfast, I popped in a piece of Orbit. Dirty mouth, indeed.

Ooh, and I'm going to move in with a few other girls one of my coworkers knows, so I can be closer to work for the summer and, hopefully, after a month or two, be able to get a townhouse with three high school friends and save on money. The rent for this house is dirt cheap, for this area, and it's apparently enormous. As in, I could have two bedrooms and my own bathroom. Utilities included. Sweet, I believe, is the word I'm looking for. So tomorrow, once I'm off, I'm going to swing by to check out the place, meet the wenches, and possibly set up a move-in date. Behold, I am being productive and making a living for myself and other cool things!

Networking event tomorrow morning with Filipino executives, then a meeting with a bank CEO in the afternoon. Who in the hell do I think I'm fooling? I can drop names and kick it like Cuddy if I want to, but is this really the sort of niche I'm after? Can I, like, stage manage a show for some sub-par community theatre now? Maybe drive back to Ohio and hang out with some hillbilly foster kids and talk about John Deere tractors? Make sure my former Friday girl isn't slicing herself up again? Stupid, insipid liminality...