jakebe: (Default)
I've been having a lot of dreams lately about being a rabbit. Which is awesome in general. In almost all of these dreams, being a rabbit is incidental to whatever else is going on, most of the time.

Last night I had a dream that I was an anthro rabbit mowing down zombies with a chainsaw. Undead chunks are *really* hard to get out of fur, you know.

I blame this on [livejournal.com profile] rikoshi, who made it easy to watch the trailer to Dead Rising 2.
jakebe: (Default)
Last night I had this dream that I woke up in our apartment, and there was some guy in a hoodie standing at the foot of our bed. That weird feeling came over me, the one that says "You are in a bad dream," and I just went, "Nope, I'm not doing this tonight." Then I woke up.

This has been happening with increasing frequency as I get older. I wonder if I'm developing major subconscious avoidance skill.
jakebe: (Comfort)
Weight This Week: 176.4 lbs
Weight Last Week: 173.6 lbs.
Change: +2.8 lbs.

Chest Press: 100 lbs.
Bent-Arm Cable Pulldown: 45 lbs.
Stomach Crunches: 30

Time: 15 minutes
Distance: ??
Top Speed: ??
Calories: ??

We have two treadmills at our apartment's small fitness center, and one of them (my favorite) was broken. There was a line for the other one on Monday, so I decided to try my hand at running off the treadmill. I was able to go for around half of the route (which is a pretty big block) before I was winded and had to revert to walking. So I walked, ran for a little bit longer and just couldn't get my breath back. I stopped after one walk around the block.

Not sure what happened there. [livejournal.com profile] toob says it's likely because I was running faster than I was on the treadmill, which I'll buy, but I tried taking special care to pace myself. I was interested in lasting the whole 30 minutes, after all. I'll definitely have to try again sometime soon.

The weight went up because I ate *so* poorly last week. It was my birthday week, though, so no regrets. I'm really paying attention to what I'm eating now, though.

For the past few nights I've had pretty vivid dreams. Monday, I dreamed that really had to go to the bathroom while the Pledge of Allegiance was being recited at a public event. I knew it was considered the highest insult to leave the room while the Pledge was being said, but I wasn't about to pee myself so I left. After that, during a Q and A session with Barack Obama, the presidential candidate himself called me out for a lack of patriotism. I shot back with the charge that it's ridiculous to expect someone to pee their pants all in the name of love of country. This made him look bad, so he punished me by making me his personal assistant for the day.

The rest of the dream is a bit of a blur, but it ended with us going to this Japanese restaurant, where the kitchen was upstairs in a private space. There was this team of three old men, one making soup, the other making rice, and the other manning the meat and vegetables. I learned how to make egg drop soup, which turned out to be pretty interesting. Barack was making snide comments about my competence the entire time.

Yeah, I don't know what the hell either.

The second dream, on Tuesday, was about our wedding. For some reason Ryan and I decided to have it in the middle of the woods, and the guy who was supposed to drive us to the location ([livejournal.com profile] harlkyn; sorry, this is no reflection on what I think of you) was paid off to drop us in the wrong place, where we would then be tortured and then killed. In the dream, I was simultaneously trying to survive the experience and redramatizing it for a horror movie/documentary. Apparently I had this mega-whoopus scene at the end where I'm in leather and I hold up my fist at night, in the rain.

That last bit was awfully embarrassing to admit, come to think of it.

Last night I dreamed about this neighborhood of ghetto shops. Think Santana Row or downtown Eureka Springs, only with chicken joints, liquor stores and run-down pharmacies. I was getting hair extensions so I could have braids, and while we went to a bookstore some disease broke out that killed 80% of anyone it infected. 5% were immune, and the other 15% became zombies.

I forced myself to wake up after I started to be chased; I just decided the dream had become too frightening, and I wasn't having any of it. In hindsight, I'm pretty glad I woke up when I did.

I'm not sure what this all points to. I could be my subconscious jazzing around, or there could be some anxiety about various things playing themselves out. I usually don't remember my dreams this vividly, but I'm really glad my brain is finally letting me in on what it does with itself while my body isn't keeping it occupied.
jakebe: (Confusion)
Last night I had a dream that I was a member of a ballet troupe and cult of deer-worshippers. We believed that the deer was the guardian of the natural world, ensuring that its forest was ready for the next season, and we tried to cultivate that practice through a spirit of community, discipline and dance. It was a really strange dream. I could spin on one foot (I believe this is what is known as the pirouhette, but I'm not sure) for quite some time, and did so around a room while one of our members was leaving in celebration of her time with us. We were kooks, yes, but I was really happy. I had found something I really believed in and a community of people who believed with me.

I'm not sure what it meant, but it was kind of hard getting up this morning. Our new, quiet alarm was a sudden and disorienting presence, and I had to take a moment to remember where I was. Ryan stirred but did not wake, and I stumbled through the dark and turned it off. He tends to turn over to where I was, as if acknowledging my absence, then turn back to get more sleep. It's adorable. :)

We caught a screening of There Will Be Blood last night; the review should be up sometime this weekend (or next Tuesday). Seeing it made me want to see Gangs of New York again, and perhaps In the Name of the Father the first time. Oddly enough, I'm completely comfortable with keeping My Left Foot in my memory.

What's it called when spokes are revolving so fast it looks like they're moving backwards? Do we have a word for that? If not, we should. I propose retrorote.

The Pair

Jul. 18th, 2007 08:54 am
jakebe: (Flower Bunny)
I had a pair of dreams last night that I thought I should write down, because they're interesting to me.

In the first, one of my players for my upcoming D+D game mismatched one of the colored folders and memo pads I got for him to keep track of his character sheets and notes and whatnot. I remember this giving me a fit of annoyance, and made me all kinds of passive-aggressive and snide. Apparently I dream about living up to my inner priss.

The other dream was me visiting [livejournal.com profile] belly4you at some kind of closed-down WalMart super-center. When we met I tried to brush a bit of dander from her eyebrow and she pulled away quick. "Don't touch me!" I snapped at her in a passive-aggressive way, and she apologized awkwardly, and the rest of the visit went more or less OK.

I think this tells me a bit about my apprehension over the way I deal with interpersonal stress. I usually try to hide annoyance, anger or hurt but it's always going to find a way out somehow. I just hate confrontation so much that it's better to try and brush off something rather than let it out onto the table and try to work through it. So, most of the time, my dissatisfaction with a situation is expressed through mixed signals, distance and creating a blind spot around the problem.

Also, I'm slightly worried about my impending trip to Arkansas. I'm really excited about seeing the NARFA crew, but I haven't done the greatest job of keeping in touch. I'm sorry about that, but that's just...how I am. I wonder if there might be some kind of hurt feelings going on with that. Crystal, I'm especially sorry to you. You rock and you should know that. I still consider you one of my closest friends. :)

Less than a week to go until I'm back in Fayetteville and the surrounding parts, and I'm massively excited. :) I have to get my costume in order, and all of my ducks in a row. (Speaking of which, does anyone know where I can find a ninja outfit on the quick around the Bay area?) I should start calling around to get a good sense of when I'll be doing what with whom. :)

Other than that, life goes on; I'm ramping up for a Dungeons and Dragons game that'll start as soon as I'm back home. That's a post for a whole different time. It'll be a long one...or several long ones for that matter. For now, work.
jakebe: (Aborigine/Shamanism)
Last night's dream featured [livejournal.com profile] toob and I working in a restaurant. He was a quiet and reserved chef for the establishment while I was quite obviously an avant-garde musician. For the evening's "entertainment," I sang Alanis Morissette covers in a blue papier-mache donkey's head and white suit, specially tailored for wings. My only member in the audience was a fellow in a matching white suit and a red rabbit's head. We were shooting a video of the whole event, presumably to be sold later. Perhaps as a terrorist weapon.

All I had to drink before bed was apple cider, I swear.
jakebe: (Gummi Bear/Geekery)
[livejournal.com profile] toob and I saw Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest last night, and I really liked it. It was fun and clever and well...exciting. The swordfights were amazing, especially the three-way between Sparrow and Turner and Norrington, and the set-up for the third movie was pretty well-done. Better than the first in almost every way! I shudder to think what [livejournal.com profile] daroneasa thought of the Kraken! Also, pirates arguing the etymology of a word is just a shining example of great comedic writing. :)

I had a dream last night that I got my paycheck from Bookbuyers, and it was a lot smaller than I was expecting it to be. Disappointed, I rooted around in the accompanying paperwork for an explanation and found a second check. Combined, the two was a month and a half's work; I was pretty happy. Then I got a third check that was even bigger than the other two combined. I was thinking, This has to be a mistake. I woke up just as I was about to tell my boss about it. The moral of the story? Orange juice and mouthwash don't mix. No they don't.

Oh! [livejournal.com profile] sailor_atma is starting up a D+D game! Hooray! I will be playing a gnome cleric, [livejournal.com profile] toob will be an elven ranger, and [livejournal.com profile] mut will be playing a human fighter full of finesse! This is inherently amusing to me. :) No word yet on possible other players, but I'm excited already.

Now, it is time for breakfast and tea.

Wonder Boy

Dec. 15th, 2006 07:12 am
jakebe: (zen-coyote)
Last night I dreamed I was an eight-foot squirrel, with dreadlocks. I kept forgetting how big I was until I would go walking in the hallways of this school/mall/condominium thing and my ears would touch the ceiling, and my paws would make a lot of noise whenever I tromped through. It was...admittedly strange, but kind of nice.

This morning I can't get Tenacious D out of my head. Maybe they're connected, maybe not.

So, sports. One of the things that have been fascinating me lately about them is how...fundamentally ingrained they seem to be. No one knows why people dig sports, but people have always dug sports. The Romans, the Greeks, the Mesopotamians(!)...you can go back before written histories to ancient tribes that just learned the trick of hunting and gathering, and chances are there's some kind of sport that has been handed for generations. A crude, city-wide version of soccer is rumored to have been played in the jungles of South America, lacrosse is said to have been invented by ancient Native American tribes. Whatever our reasons for playing sports, they're fundamentally attached to who we are as people.

There's got to be an anthropologically-oriented paper or study about it somewhere, right? Perhaps a history of sport as it relates to human culture. The best reason for our attraction to sports so far (and this is pure conjecture) is it once taught us how to be in shape, how to have quick reflexes in both mind and body, how to run and jump and throw. Rabbits chase each other, wolves wrestle and practice their takedowns, we throw and kick balls around.

As we started to gather into larger communities, our sports grew larger and more complex as well. We started incorporating strategy and group mentality in our play; each person had a specific function that helped the team as a whole work as a machine. This mental state could carry over into conflicts with other tribes and city-states quite well.

So are the sports of today the last remaining marks of a vestigial need in human society? We don't need to learn how to kick and throw quite as much as we did back when it was a matter of survival, and we don't engage in very personal battle almost at all. Maybe the reason these things are blown up as much as they are today is we need to pay an homage to the time that sport was merely preparation for something useful or more noble. Or maybe sport is just something fun that's gotten way out of hand. Research continues...

I've started zazen again. Roughly 18 - 20 minutes every day, at home or work. I'm thinking it might be a good idea to sit again in the evenings just before bed; it's a good way to let go of the stresses of the day before I sleep, and hopefully it will help with the bruxing. Mostly, though, I've been missing my spiritual practice, and now that things have finally settled down after the move, it's time to pick it up again.

There's also the matter of working more closely with Rabbit. I haven't been paying much attention to the totemic side of things for a while now; there were a few things that happened with Raven that just dropped me out entirely. Things have been steadily getting better for some time, but now I'm getting the feeling that my practice needs some kind of shape. I can't quite exist in the vague any more; it's simply unsatisfying.

The problem here is I don't have a clear idea of where to even start, possibly because I'm not sure how totemism fits into my world-view. Is Rabbit some part of my subconscious given shape so that self-discipline is cuter and more fuzzy? Is it an actual spirit? Where does it come from? What does it want? How does our relationship work? I know how we tend to work, and it goes well for us, but is this 'typical'? Is there a book I should be reading for proper care and maintenance of my spirit animal?

I'm always very reluctant to talk about this to people, because most folks who are likewise into totemism are very quick to look down on people who are young and earnest, and who don't already have the "I got MY shit together" posture down. Most of the groups I've tentatively approached have this n00b-hating vibe that really rubs me raw. If you don't know, who are you supposed to ask? Most other folks will give you (at the very best) odd looks if you broach the subject. "Excuse me, I'd like to learn how to be a better friend to my invisible rabbit. Can you help me?" That type of stuff doesn't fly very well, even in a Unitarian Universalist church.

Then again, perhaps this frustration with the 'right' group is telling me I really should be pursuing this on a solitary level. Find what works for me, and develop from there. And above all, don't be so afraid of doing the 'wrong thing' that I'm paralyzed and can't experiment. The worst thing that could happen is running into a dead end, and then it's only a matter of tracking back and finding a different way to achieve the same effect.

Hmm. Research continues, here, too.
jakebe: (Confusedment)
Today's Workout

Time: 20:00
Distance: 1.70 miles
Top Speed: 6 mph
Calories: 175
Weight: 165.2 lbs

At [livejournal.com profile] lazarusrat's request, I won't be putting stats behind a cut tag. If folks have a problem with it, let me know and I'll just create a filter.

Couldn't manage the whole 30 minutes today. I was wearing boxers instead of boxer briefs, so there was...bad stuff happening, and my calves are burning like mad. I still think it's not enough water, but it might be fatigue as well, so I'll take Sunday off, rest up a little bit and hit it like mad on Monday.

This first week has been pretty surprising. I didn't think I'd be able to run as far as regularly as I have been, so that's definitely a plus. Though the fact that I've somehow *gained* 3 pounds over the week makes me cast a rather suspicious eye on my diet. Am I not eating right? Not eating enough? What the hay is going on here?? I've dropped almost all fast food (literally, the last time I had any was about a week ago, when Tube and I went to Taco Bell), and the food I've been eating at home hasn't been really terrible. I'm kinda scratching my head over that one. Maybe the weight will come down once I start working, and doing a lot more moving around.

Tube and I tried to watch Evita last night, only I started nodding off about 40 minutes in, during one of the best parts. I'm sure this frustrated the otta to no end. ;) The music was actually very good, with just enough Latino flare to spice up the traditional musical arrangements, and the visuals were quite nice as well. The more musicals I watch, the more I'm able to pin down why they don't grab me in a particular way. I think it's just...too much music for me to really connect with. For me, music is...a sort of climax in a movie. You use it sparingly when something major or very exciting is about to happen. When a musical goes from one song to the next to the next, it strikes me as...kind of bombastic. It's all loud, and there's lots of noise and dancing and many other words, it just tires me out pretty quick, I guess. I keep trying to think why something like Moulin Rouge worked for me and most others don't (including, say, Rent), and I think it's just...the value of the spoken word. The characters in Luhrmann's movie lived in a world that was undoubtedly chaotic, but they gave a go at speaking and when they simply *couldn't* express things in any other way, they resorted to song. It gave the music a certain purity, like...these stratospheric emotions I'm having can't simply be *said*. They must be *sung*.

Then there are the...I guess we'll call them modern-day operas. Every piece of dialogue is sung. You have to rely on the lyrics for characterization, plot advancement, context...everything. You also have to keep up with the visual tone, the instrumentation, the arrangement. In most cases, it's just too much. I appreciate...variation, an alternating between word and song. This might make me look slow or uncultured, but that's fine. :) I think I'd like the cast recordings of musicals a lot better than sitting through one, perhaps. It's much easier to focus on the lyrics, which I'd prefer to do anyway.

That being said, I do like Evita, and I plan on watching it. But maybe with breaks every half-hour or so. :)

I had a dream last night about the Bookshop. I was wearing brown short shorts, and late for work. I went to this restaurant on Dickson St. that only exists in my dreams; they make Old World Pizza from scratch, in brick ovens, and the list of toppings reads like an encyclopedia of vegetables and herbs. I was ordering a personal pizza for breakfast, and some root beer for the folks at the shop. For some reason, the cashier just could not get my order right, and this made me even more late. When I finally got there, I was kind of depressed for some reason, and then started feeling really ill by the time I started shelving books. If I were into dream interpretation, I'd say this might be a sign that trying to get another job in used books might not be the best thing right now. But what does my subconscious know?

Now, on to breakfast. Which will probably be two grapes and a cup of yogurt. ;)
jakebe: (Line Bunny)
My love of Green Day has reached obsessive levels now; I've had "Jesus of Suburbia" stuck in my head all day and I've been humming it all the time. Apologies especially to Lazarus and Tube, who will doubtless have to hear me mention it at least 80 bajillion times over the next week before I finally burn out of it. Sorry, guys.

Saw Mirrormask last night and it was a total blast! To be honest, I've never been a *huge* fan of Dave McKean's work, but now I know what Gaiman sees in him. His lovely sense of color and broken, fluid form matches Gaiman's sense of whimsy really well. There were tons of really neat sequences that more than made up for the almost inconsequential story.

One of my absolute favorite things about modern fantasty settings are the odd little quirks that will be tossed in for no reason other than "hey, this is a really neat idea." In Jonathan Lethem's Amnesia Moon, for example, one of the characters can only be interacted with after you've shot him into your veins through a syringe. Or, in Peter Beagle's Tamsin, the Pooka is always called THE Pooka, even though he's not the only one *and* no matter what form he takes, his eyes always stay the same...which tends to make even his more 'benign' countenances the slightest bit menacing. The movie is chock-full of those kinds of 'rules,' where this creature does this and not that, or the world behaves this way for whatever reason and anything else is an affront to its very nature. Devices like that in stories *always* make me want to ask questions about it, find out *why*, or at least how something/one developed the way it did. But then...the whole point of modern fantasy is its just better to wallow in twilight.

My favorite 'rule' in Mirrormask had to have been anthropomorphizing the books. In one of the earlier moments, Helena and her companion escape death by sphinx (who're actually really, really creepy) by insulting books and throwing them down on the floor. "As long as they believe you really don't like them," her companion/guide says, "they'll migrate back to the Public Library...and we'll get a free ride out of this place." What a brilliant piece of dream logic! :D

Speaking of dreams, I had a really odd one last night. I was working late at the Bookshop, which always seems to morph into something more...Victorian once the sun goes down. You know, gas lamps on the wall, strange dolls and knick-knacks...and sweltering heat. Anyway, I'm walking out of the back when I see this...rocket touch down in the middle of the intersection and morph into a short, dumpy robot. This robot then pulls out a flyswatter and threatens to turn everyone watching into flies by hitting them with it. For some reason, this absolutely terrifies people, and there's pandemonium in the streets. The rest of the dream was spent hiding from the carnage in the relative safety of the hot, dark Bookshop. :P

Tonight, Cy's Werewolf game. Last week was a really good game, though you'll have to stay tuned to [livejournal.com profile] smileydanq to find out why. Oh, yes, I am a shameless pimp.

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