Odd dreams again last night. I had many dreams within one main dream, and after each one I would “awake” and think of a lesson I could learn from it. Now that I am fully awake I can no longer remember which were the dreams and which was the waking time. There was a song, too–it originated in one of my dreams-within-the-dream, and in the waking-within-the-dream I tried to recapture it and write it down. It seemed vastly important that I do so. I suspect, actually, that the melody may have been something I’d heard somewhere before and was unconciously recycling–I don’t write music that well. The lyrics were all my own, though they included snippets and phrases I’d heard elsewhere. But what doesn’t? Never more than a few words together–it was still all my own. Now that I’m really awake, I cannot remember more than one line–”where you can see me, my angel of the morning”. (There’s one of those borrowed phrases.) All I remember of the rest is that I thought it above my normal standard for poetry.

And I remember trying to write it down, too. I was walking around outside, wearing only the half-sarong I bought at Heartland tied around my waist, but carrying a pair of dark jeans. I went to some place where I apparently liked to go to write, and then had trouble finding paper and pen. Especially pen. When I found them and started to write, half the page of paper was already taken up with a Celic-knot design, and after I wrote the words down they sort of became integrated into the design. It was difficult to see where the words were, or read them. Then I realized there were two men watching me, and here I was sitting out in the open half-naked. I tried to cover myself–my thought was to put on the jeans and use the sarong as a wrap to cover my upper body–but I don’t remember whether I got done before they were right there standing in front of me. I was afraid, but not so terrified that I couldn’t think. I told them to go away, and I think I kicked at them or something as well when they didn’t immediately do so. And I think it was at this point that I woke up for real. At least, I don’t remember anything after this.

I couldn’t help think that it was significant when I woke for real. Most of all, the song and the lessons–but I can’t remember them.

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Well, actually, I didn’t get up on the wrong side of the bed. I just had a couple of distateful incidents shortly after getting to work which have put me in a sour mood.

First, there was The Urban Legend Incident. Yesterday a co-worker forwarded me an e-mail containing a call to action about the FCC allegedly approving the word “fuck” for use on TV in general. As I thought I remembered that even using “shit” was still punishable by fine, I had my doubts. So I looked at Snopes. Sure enough–the FCC did OK Bono’s use of it during whatever awards show, as a fleeting and isolated incident which was deemed not obscene, but they have not made any general ruling. I forwarded the link on to the co-worker, pointing out that he was mistaken. He sent me back a link to About.com’s Urban Legends section which he said stated that the call to action was “true”. The kicker: When I read the About.com page, I realized it said THE EXACT SAME THING that Snopes did. I’m a bit annoyed now because, hey, did you read it, you know? And if so, did you see the part where it’s “true” (in that it’s an actual call to action and there was *an* incident) “but overstated” (in that there is no general ruling)?

Then there was the Mirroring Fundie Intolerance incident, wherein a poster on one of my regular forums, in response to a thread regarding some fundie TV evangelist’s hateful claims about something or other. The poster in question claimed that people shouldn’t be allowed to hold beliefs that harmed others–which later transformed to the idea that such people should not be able to shove their beliefs down other people’s throats or make others look like sinners–and that the children of such people were being repressed and were more likely to turn to drugs, alcohol, etc. Which to me boils down to this: He’s trying to push his beliefs on other people, and guilt-trip them by going on about how awful they’re being to their kids. He’s doing just what he says shouldn’t be allowed. In addition, I’m firmly of the opinion that beliefs are not things that hurt people–it’s the actions, words, etc. which are backed by and based on those beliefs that hurt. Why should we run around restricting what people are allowed to believe, rather than the visible (or audible) effects of those beliefs? I’m frustrated with this kid anyway, the more so because in addition to all that he edited his post multiple times while I was replying to it, which potentially could have changed the meaning enough that my reply was not relevant. I’m trying not to reply to him much overall, but that had to be pointed out. *sigh*

Plus, it’s all rainy and grey outside, and I just want to crawl under a nice blanket, have a warm cup of cider, and watch anime all day. Not an option, though, even if we had any cider left. So… I’ll make do with doing some work that’s not as stressful as it might be, listening to some good music, and having a mug of Orange Tangerine Zinger tea.

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Happy Birthday, Mickey Mouse!

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Last night was a night of bizzare dreams. They’re already fading, but a couple of details have stuck with me…In one I remember I was… dating?… some guy, someone who no one thought was any good for me. And there was this other guy who I really should have been with. I don’t think I was really me. I occasionally have dreams where I’m not me, I’m someone else, and I think that this was one of them. At some point someone pointed out that I had this awful tattoo… I don’t remember what it was, but it was blue. And I was all, “I don’t have that tattoo!” But then I wasn’t sure, and I started looking for it. And I discovered that I had tattoos all over me. The skin underneath my panties was completely covered, I think I had some on my back, on my shoulder maybe… there was one on my abdomen, something cartoony. And my butt. The blue tattoo was on my butt. Somehow all those tattoos made me realize that Guy #1 was really sleazy and bad for me, and I rushed back into the waiting arms of Guy #2. Who forgave me.

After Tim went off to work, I fell back asleep and had another dream. This was… Exceptionally weird. We were having a meeting. I think it might have been a civic theater board meeting–Tim and Dad were there, anyway–but I’m not sure. This time I was me. The building we were having the meeting in was partly an old, run-down apartment building and partly the big warehousey building I work in (in the waking world). The important part seemed to be the apartment building. Run-down wasn’t the word. And yet it was. Some parts of it were still inhabited. Some parts were… It was like they had been abandoned at a moment’s notice. Furniture, personal effects, everything was still just sitting there. The vermin had started to move in; in our meeting room there was a three-inch hole chewed in the wall, with the debris from it just piled up on the floor.

Those things just keep sticking in my head… I suppose perhaps that means they might be significant, but I don’t know how. Or why.

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So a few months ago–perhaps as much as a year–I was surfing around Television Without Pity and found this wonderful-sounding show that aired in 1994 called My So-Called Life. I vaguely remembered commercials for it; I even remembered that Claire Danes starred in it. Somehow, when it originally aired, it just never caught my interest. I seemed to remember thinking it was kind of “whatever”. But then TWoP was singing its praises–which is really saying something, given their motto: “Spare the snark, spoil the networks.”Oh. My. Gods.

Why the hell didn’t I watch this back when it originally aired? As I read through the recaps it became clear to me that I really should have. It was… it was everything that high school really was. The characters weren’t always dealing with exactly the problems I had dealt with, but it didn’t matter; the experience was genuinely high school. In Angela Chase I could see myself–or what I might have been, at any rate. At the time of original airing, I would have been exactly the same age that the characters were. I couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to experience this show while I was going through high school myself.

Ever since, I’ve been wishing I could actually watch it. I finally got the chance this week; a friend of Tim’s owns the boxed set of DVDs and agreed to lend them to us. I’m into disc four (out of five) now, and… Amazing. Again I ask, why didn’t I watch this? The recaps told me I should have watched the show, and the DVDs just confirm that. I totally love this show and wish there were more than one season. In a way it’s good that I’m seeing it now, actually. I think I can better appreciate the writing, and I can identify with Angela’s parents as well as Angela herself. It’s good all around. I’m not exctly at the same stage in my life as anyone on the show, but I’m at just the perfect point, where I can understand everyone and sympathize and identify.

Also, Jared Leto has, like, the prettiest eyes.

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*sigh*

This year I was all set to vote. I really was; I drive past my polling place on the way home, and I was just going to stop then and do it. I still don’t know much about the candidates, but I was going to at least make an effort to do my civic duty.

I went home early because I was feeling unwell and needed to rest. And I forgot. I totally forgot. I didn’t even notice the usual plethora of campaign signs outside the polling place. I did notice them later, in a different location, at about 6:00pm–just in time to realize it was too late now.

I’m so disappointed in myself…

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