shanmonster: (Purple mohawk)
I dreamed I was going to visit a friend in Toronto and had to take public transit. I knew roughly which stop to get off at, but then I had to look up the route on my phone, because I couldn't remember how to walk there. For some reason, the first part of the address was "Front Line Assembly." I typed it in time after time after time, and each time, autocorrect took over and turned it into something completely different, and wrong. The frustration was building and building. What did my phone have against industrial music, anyway?

I never did get to my destination. My friend must still be waiting for me.
shanmonster: (Don't just sing it--bring it!)
They say (whoever they may be) that you don't die in dreams without dying in reality. Well, I must be the new Messiah, because I've resurrected many times. The other night, I dreamed I was hung at a scaffold until I died. I counted the wraps on the noose before they put it around my neck. I felt the bounce after the drop, and the break in my neck. The whole experience was fascinating, in a clinical sort of way. I didn't wake up with a sore neck, either.

I've been very busy the past couple of days. I taught two hipwork-intensive dance classes the other night, walked for a good 90 minutes or so yesterday, went to tap class, and went to kung fu and did squats until I thought my legs would die. But then something did. During some routine technique drills with [livejournal.com profile] gha5t, my hip suddenly gave out on me. It felt like it was trying to pop out of joint in the most painful of fashions. I guess I haven't entirely healed up from the fall I took last month, and all that exercise over the past 48 hours exacerbated it. So when I went out to Ren last night, I didn't go dancing. I'm going to give my hips a bit of a rest, at least until Monday when I have to go back to teaching again.

For a very fit person, I sure am decrepit.

Tap class is so much frigging fun. How is it I never got into this before? Brush step ball change, hop step, spring step toe, all that stuff. I get to speed up as I become comfortable with a combination, and I get to make lots of noise while doing it!

Once I get my membership to CADA, I might sign up for private swing lessons, too. I can get one free private class at a studio in uptown Waterloo, so I'll check it out and see if I like their teaching style. If so, I'll go from there....

I also found a few places which offer voice lessons. I've been wanting singing lessons for decades, no joke. CADA may help subsidize that, too. Oh yes.

I lied to a telemarketer, yesterday. Someone called up asking if I'd received my free beef sample (hurr hurr), and I told them I'm a vegetarian. I did this once before to a beef phone spammer back in NB who'd been calling me regularly, and they never called me again. So here's hoping it works again this time. I don't want your frozen cow meats. No. Tonight, I'm roasting a chicken.

Links? Ok. I do have a couple.

Throne of Weapons: I can't say it looks like a very comfortable chair, but it sure is an interesting one with an extensive history.

Hunting Deer with a Trained Golden Eagle: I hadn't realized birds took down prey of this size.

Execution by Saw: That's one hell of a toy.

Forestiere Underground Gardens: A true DIY maestro made an underground Mediterranean grotto in Fresno, CA. I'd love to visit this place.
shanmonster: (On the stairs)
I dreamed a really hot chick jammed her thumb very suddenly up my fundament.

It wasn't anywhere near as pleasant as you might suspect. I think I woke up saying "Yow!"

....

I have another dance performance this (next?) evening. Something tells me I'd better get my music/costume together at least an hour or so beforehand, hmm?

....

My hand has fallen asleep. It's very late, so I think I should send the rest of my body to join it.

'Night, all!

Salt

Jul. 18th, 2007 01:22 pm
shanmonster: (On the stairs)
I woke up in a delicious state of melancholy. That may sound incongruous, but sometimes it is delicious to wallow in unfamiliar emotions. I suspect this one is a product of yesterday's writing extravaganza. I wrote about twenty pages, which is pretty darned good, for me. And I awoke from a bizarre dream where I was Jean-Luc Picard running away from Locutus of Borg. The dream ended with Picard/me hiding in a cramped closet under a pile of rust-coloured lab coats as Locutus drew near. I'm a huge nerd even in my sleep.

I've not a clue what spurred me to dream of Locutus and Picard. I haven't watched Star Trek in years (I think it speaks volumes that I still think of The Next Generation as a new television show). But I suppose the situation is a natural progression of the Elisabet/Margd dynamic I've been immersing myself in for the past year.

I've also been listening to real downer music for the past two days, too, which is most assuredly contributing. Is it just me, or is "Old" by Assemblage 23 one of the saddest, woe-is-me songs I've heard since I was a teen and listening to Depeche Mode's "Blasphemous Rumours"? Oh dear god. Don't let me turn into a mopey goth.

[livejournal.com profile] f00dave was having dreams, too. I woke up far too early this morning to his tossing, turning, and moaning. He was having dreams of a huge tattoo on his arm and body, then would wake up to see the tattoo was smaller, then would wake up again to see the tattoo smaller still. Eventually he woke up for real, and there was no tattoo at all, of course. When he finally got up, he was exhausted.

Anyhow, time for some links.

Ability to listen to 2 things at once is largely inherited, says twin study: Very interesting. Several years ago, completely vexed at my inability to hear movie dialogue or properly understand what people were saying to me, [livejournal.com profile] f00dave sent me off to have my hearing checked. When I was tested, it ended up that I have very keen hearing. My ears are far sharper than the vast majority of people's. So why can't I understand what people are saying? This article offers a pretty good explanation (thanks, [livejournal.com profile] f00dave).

Wildlife Photography by Steve Bloom: These are truly remarkable shots. The photo of birds at a misty watering hole is one of the most beautiful photos I've ever seen. It boggles me that this man has been lucky and skilled enough to capture these incredible moments. How, for instance, did he ever get that picture of the eagles?

Mr. Lee - Photo Tour: Now these photos I do understand. They were taken by a cat as he wandered throughout the day.

Rare condition gives toddler super strength: "Liam Hoekstra was hanging upside down by his feet when he performed an inverted sit-up, his shirt falling away to expose rippled abdominal muscles. It was a display of raw power one might expect to see from an Olympic gymnast. Liam is 19 months old."

The Dream

Jul. 4th, 2007 10:09 am
shanmonster: (On the stairs)
I'm walking through the streets when all the sound is dampened. I'm in a vacuum of silence. The sky is flat and orange and purple. Just a few blocks away, two tornadoes coil around one another in a helix. One is lean and compact, whereas the other is fat and on the verge of dissipation. I keep looking and spy four other cyclones at various places in the city. Their movement is slow and stealthy. Calm now, they appear on the cusp of aggressive behaviour. And then I wake up.

Hmm...

Jun. 26th, 2007 12:21 pm
shanmonster: (Peeking)
Last night I dreamed I died and was turned into a zombie. Then I dreamed I was Jesus and was resurrected. I also dreamed I was Dionysus and resurrected.

I detect a theme.

Here are some links, and then I'm off to do the day's errands.

Aspartame linked to cancer: study: "The US Food and Drug Administration says there is no need for an urgent review of the safety of aspartame, despite a new study showing the sweetener may cause cancer." Hmm (thanks, [livejournal.com profile] gha5t)...

Chewing gum habit 'poisons' woman:" Abigail Cormack thought she was dying from a mystery illness. She never realised her daily chewing gum habit was probably poisoning her. The sugar-free gum contained aspartame..." Kicker: she was chewing four packs a day. WTF?

HTML: A drawing made through HTML. Craziness!

One Minute Man: This guy completes a painting in 60 seconds.

Waterloo Arts Festival: I plan on attending this! It looks like there will be free circus arts workshops, too. Keen!

The Dream

Jun. 7th, 2007 03:19 pm
shanmonster: (Peeking)
I'm in the forest, pulling up wild strawberry plants by the roots. Every now and then, the root I grab isn't from a strawberry plant, but from some unknown herb. The roots pull reluctantly from the ground, long, irregular, and sickly white. Loam flies up into the air as I yank the roots. I know the strawberry roots should be scarlet and not like these pallid stringers.

The wind picks up suddenly, and I run back to the house, staring up at the sky. The clouds race by just like in a time-lapsed video. It's unnatural, and speeding up more and more as I watch. I stand nervously at the door, and there is a huge bang as a spiral of cloud appears horizontal to the ground. It's shaped like a segment of tornado crossed with a DNA helix, and it moves much more slowly than the surrounding clouds. As I watch, it crashes down into the forest across the road from me. There is another huge bang, and a blue shockwave bursts toward me. I run inside and shut the door, and the shockwave disintegrates it into an explosion of slivers.

I know she has arrived.

And then I wake up.

The Dream

May. 16th, 2007 04:50 am
shanmonster: (Spasmolytic)
Arnold Schwarzenegger is at my place, and he's hungry. I open up the fridge to get him some food and find a piece of Tupperware. I open it in front of him, and it contains a kneecap. Arnold begins to moan like a girl, and I wake up realizing I actually do hear moaning.

I listen very hard, waking me up even more, and then realize the moaning is the sound of water pipes somewhere in the building.

But now I'm awake, and it isn't even five in the morning. Meh.

The Dream

May. 11th, 2007 10:03 am
shanmonster: (Spasmolytic)
I am standing in a hallway in a huge, modern complex with auditoriums, and I am Jesus. Medieval fighters are running all around me in the hurlyburly of war. One man draws his sword as he runs past, nicking the back of my leg with the tip. Blood pours freely down my leg and onto the floor. No one notices but me.

But then everyone on the man's side in the battle begins to win. Rather, everyone opposing him begins to lose. The losers continue to fight, but it is entirely fruitless.

I walk from auditorium to auditorium. Each one contains a vast countryside and battlefield. All the enemy lie slain.

It is because his sword has been anointed in the blood of Christ.

I look out the windows and see huge waves of water crashing against them. We are in the midst of a colossal flood, and must get to high land.

All of the animals are going crazy, wanting to be let outside. But the waters rage higher than the building, now. We are trapped.

Someone opens the door and lets out the cats. The water isn't there anymore. The animals scatter outside.

A few nights pass, and I know the animals should come home. I open the door and call for them. The only animals who enter are strange ones I have never seen before, including a very hoppy dog and a cat who looks like Hitler.

Then I wake up.
shanmonster: (On the stairs)
Firstly, last night's dream:

Hadia has opened a dance studio in Kitchener. I stumble upon it serendipitously, and walk in. She has not advertised anywhere that she is in the city. In fact, she seems resentful when I come inside. I ask her if she will be teaching, and she says, yes, she will be teaching a class every two weeks. Almost afraid to ask lest it won't fit into my schedule, I ask when she's teaching, and am excited to hear it is on every other Saturday afternoon. So I sign up for six classes for $50.

Then I wake up and am rather disappointed....

Secondly, last night's game: )
shanmonster: (Default)
Oh dear. I suddenly remembered parts of a dream I had last night. I was hanging out with Bill Clinton, and he started flirting with me. What the hell?

I've been somewhat incommunicado lately for a couple of reasons. First of all, [livejournal.com profile] gha5t, [livejournal.com profile] lindalicious (aka SARS bitch), and [livejournal.com profile] redlyra were here, and I was approximating the role of host. Then my hard drive died, and my computer has only been online (and not very stably, at that) since yesterday. And then I seem to have come down with some sort of aneurysm flu, which has been knocking me off my feet with exhaustion and a stabbity-stabbity headache.

But here I am.

[livejournal.com profile] gha5t and [livejournal.com profile] lindalicious will be moving a few doors down from my apartment. In two weeks, [livejournal.com profile] gha5t will be my roommate until his apartment is ready, and [livejournal.com profile] lindalicious will be moving up when she's finished her course work this spring.

And it's starting to look like a mass exodus from Fredericton is in order. A few other Freddy Beachers are murmuring about moving here, too. Time will tell if they put their money where their mouths are, right?

While the Frederictonians were here, I got to do some kung fu--my first non-solo attempts at it in months and months. I'm ashamed to say I'm pretty rusty, but I'm sure I'll be back to previous levels of expertise (and hopefully even better than that) once I have people to train with again.

And now for the cutest link you'll likely see today: Real-Life Bambi and Thumper. Enjoy!
shanmonster: (Spasmolytic)
I kept waking up in the middle of the night, struggling against sleep to get up and make the sandwich for the poor customer who'd been waiting by the sandwich bar so very patiently.

Then, as I was about to push myself out of bed I'd realize, what the fuck? I'm in bed in the middle of the night. I don't need to make anyone any godddamned sandwich!

Today is my last day. Last day. LAST DAY! Yeehaw!

A couple of somewhat interesting things happened at work over the past couple of days.

One regards a co-worker, Julia. Over the past month and a half, she went home early for about a third of her shifts. She has epilepsy, and suffers from several different types of seizures. She also has some sort of throat polyp, which occasionally swells up and makes speech painful or impossible.

Or so she says.

The night before last, she approached me while I was on break.

"Do I look as bad as I feel?" she asked.

"Uh, actually, you look pretty good. Why? What's wrong?"

"I don't know. My stomach really hurts, I have diarrhea, my head is spinning, and my arm is numb and tingly. I'm going to go in to the emergency room."

"Oh wow. That's pretty bad. Maybe you've got a flu."

And so off she went to the hospital.

About two hours later, one of our regular customers came in and ordered a sandwich. While I made the sandwich for her she asked, "I thought Julia worked this shift."

"She's feeling sick, so had to leave early."

"Oh. That's interesting," she said. "She's at bingo."

Hmmm....

Fast forward to last night when Julia walks into the store halfway through her shift in street clothes, then informs the supervisor that she won't be coming into work anymore.

She just up and quit without notice.

There were a couple of times when I was feeling ill (like that time my foot was so very painful that even standing put me on the verge of tears) and put in a request to go home early, but Julia put in a request afterwards, saying that she felt like she was going to have a seizure. Seizures win out over any ailment I may have had (which is perfectly understandable). But now I can't help but wonder if she was faking those, too.

Some of what happened yesterday was just plain entertaining, though. There was the man with the handmade purse saddle bag made of saddle leather with a really great brass clasp. I commented that I have a bag almost exactly like it, and that started him up. His came from New Brunswick, he said. Well, so do I....

And the next thing I knew, he was singing made-up songs about coffee and purses and telling me how people at the Shakespeare festival in Stratford were offering him $600 for his saddle bag.

He was getting weirder and weirder by the moment. I smiled, nodded, made him his coffee, and busied myself with all sorts of coffee shop tasks to appear too busy to converse with him further. But that didn't end matters. He took a seat at a distant table, and sang to me from across the store.

And then there's Barnie. He's a co-worker of mine, and was covering me on my break. He's a nice guy, and very quiet. As I showed up from the end of my break, he had just started up two pots of coffee. He saw me, then went over to drive-through so I could resume storefront work. A few moments later, I heard another co-worker yell, "Omigosh!"

Barnie had neglected to put a pot under one of the filters, and coffee was pouring inexorably onto the counter and floor.

Later on, I saw Barnie and said, "Next time you start some coffee up, you might want to consider putting a pot under it."

The look on his face was priceless, and I got to hear the normally quiet boy guffaw loudly, with a huge, incredulous grin.

Oopsie!

Oh yes, and then there was the moment when a customer came up to me, said, "Yeah, I'd like a large .... Shantell?!?!?!"

I looked up, and we both did literal double-takes, with the stereotypical slight backward stagger and all. It was Babs, an old friend of mine from New Brunswick who I hadn't seen for about a decade. So who knows? He might be showing up at my party tomorrow, too.

Small world, ain't it?

Link time!

Custom MP5-K: I'm no gun nut, but this is gorgeous.

The Children's Crusade: Funniest IM transcript I've seen in ages. Fundamentally different from my own ICQverts.

Farce of the Penguins: "What Happens In Antarctica... Stays in Antarctica." Featuring Samuel L. Jackson. Oh yeah, baby!

Monocopter: Looks heavy and unwieldy, but oh-so-fun!

Pennsylvania letter carrier attacked by squirrel is taken to hospital: "'In about 230 years of postal history, I bet it is not the first, but I've personally never heard of another squirrel biting,' said Steve Kochersperger, spokesman for the Erie district" (thanks, [livejournal.com profile] gha5t).

Now for some much-needed dance drills....

The Dream

Oct. 28th, 2006 07:40 am
shanmonster: (Da Vinci ShanMonster)
I move to Toronto with a cute, very tall boy named Stephan as a roommate. We go to the farmers' market to purchase some parsley for his morning breath. He's between 6'6" and 6'8", very slim, and wears blue jeans and a leopard-print jean jacket. He's about 19 or 20, and in desperate need of a haircut (his short hair is growing into a proto-mullet). We walk arm in arm so we don't get separated, but I'm not too worried when he does wander off on his own. He's so tall that he's easily picked out in the crowd.

I find a newspaper with a listing for a theatre which shows all the movies you can watch for $2. This week, it's featuring kung fu movies from the 1970s.

I awake feeling old and with a strong sense of foreboding.

The Dream

Oct. 27th, 2006 12:10 am
shanmonster: (Peeking)
I'm in a house haunted by a violent, terrifying ghost. I walk with utter trepidation, as I know this ghost relishes scaring people to death. Slowly, step by step, I creep my way through the hallway. Finally, I happen upon a closet. I look inside, and there is the ghost. He's watching tv, and is completely unaware of me.

A sharp and unintended sudden gasp comes from me, and it scares the (un)living shit out of the ghost, who screams and vanishes.

Later on, I feel really bad because I find out the ghost has summarily been voted out of the haunted house by Simon Cowell.

Then I wake up.

-------

Work was mostly uneventful, but here's an example of one of the not-so-nice customers I get.

I finished my lunch break and came out to the counter. There was a small line-up, so I went to the other cash. "Can I help you?" I asked an elderly man standing in the queue.

The man sauntered up, smiled, and said, "I knew if I waited here long enough that someone would eventually help me."

There had been only one person ahead of him, and that person was only getting a coffee, so he hadn't been waiting long. I smiled noncommittally at him.

"Can I take your order?"

"I'd like a bowl of chili, and nothing else."

"I'm really sorry, sir, but we're out of chili at the moment. Is there something else I can get you?"

"What? You're out of chili? But you're always supposed to have some." He was still smiling.

"Unfortunately, the last batch was was burnt, so a new one was put on. I'll go find out how far along it is for you, though." So I went back to the kitchen where the reconstituted freeze-dried chili was only halfway liquefied.

"Sorry, sir, but it's not going to be ready for quite a while. Is there anything else I can get you?"

"No. I'm afraid I'm just going to have to take my business to the other Tim Horton's." He paused meaningfully. "Your competition."

My inner voice said, "Oh, fuck off. Do you think my hard-worked-for minimum wage lets me give a shit about where you eat your freeze-dried, reheated chili, you passive-aggressive old shit?"

But my outer voice said, "Sorry about that, sir. Have a nice day."

And you know what? I meant it. I hope he got his chili and liked it. Maybe it'll make that smile of his genuine, instead of camouflage for a nasty personality. But I sure as hell don't care if he ever buys so much as a Timbit from my store.

Oh yeah. I made one dollar and two cents in tips today. Woohoo!

The Dream

Oct. 10th, 2006 08:51 am
shanmonster: (Dance Monkey Dance!)
I am attending a dance workshop on industrial dance.

The auditorium is still filled with rows of plastic chairs, which makes the sun salutation introduction to the workshop problematic. As I move into downward dog, my arse bumps a chair into someone the row in front of me. The girl in front of me has a bigger arse than I do, so she ends up knocking a couple of chairs over. The room is filled with the sounds of apologies and falling furniture.

The instructor is all tarted up in PVC and chains. It's all part of her industrial image, I guess. She's assisted by a large, black-clad man wielding a net made of chain (his dance veil, I think) and sporting a mohawk braided into a rat tail.

The first thing the instructor says is "Many people think they are industrial dancers. But they are either just dancing to industrial music, or they just can't dance."

This gets my hackles up.

"What makes you think you're the only industrial dancer? My first dance performance was done to industrial music, and I've been dancing a few years longer than you."

"Do you make eye contact with your audience to draw them in? Do you see dance as a theatrical form of expression?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

And then I wake up.

The Dream

Aug. 19th, 2006 10:29 am
shanmonster: (Spasmolytic)
I'm in Dorn Ridge, NB: one of my childhood homes. I'm standing in an orchard close to Howdy's (my schoolbus driver) house. One of the apple trees catches my attention because it has a series of rectangular shaped holes in its trunk. When I investigate further, I realize they are windows. I look inside, and see a large loft-style apartment.

I walk around the tree and try to find a way in. I can't find one, so I borrow an axe and chop one of the windows large enough to crawl in through. Once inside, the lights come on, and I see all sorts of strange things: a vintage 1950s car, a collection of CDs and VHS tapes, and standard apartment furniture.

No one knows who lived here. I look through the CD collection. Only the liner notes remain. I find a lot of Ofra Haza and Tears for Fears.

I look through the VHS collection, and only the boxes remain. They include a few belly dance instructionals, including the dreaded Belly Dancing for Fun and Fitness by Janine Rabbitt.

I am amazed that such a large room can exist inside the trunk of such a small tree, and decide I'm going to make myself a similar treehouse. Then I wake up.

The Dream

Jul. 22nd, 2006 09:32 am
shanmonster: (Default)
I am in a public washroom, but the seats are outhouse-style and very high off the ground. Since there's no way I'm parking my arse on that filthy wooden surface, I jump up on it and do the squat and hover.

And then something gives me an anal probe.

I wake up with difficulty breathing.

Stupid aliens....

The Dream

May. 5th, 2006 08:33 am
shanmonster: (Spasmolytic)
I'm having the shit kicked out of me by the various characters of The Sopranos. I'm lying on the ground, being kicked in the back, ribs, etcetera when the other me decides to intercede. This me is swinging a large weight around on a chain, helicopter-style, and bludgeoning the shit out of the mob.

But what is the weight on the end of the chain?

This (NSFW).

And then I wake up.
shanmonster: (Default)
On the way back from last night's meditation class, I biked by a high school. I thought I saw someone sitting on the fence outside, but as I got closer, I realized that no, it was just a black fleece hoodie tied onto the fence. The way it was set up, it seemed almost like someone was still inside it, reclining against the fence with their arms sprawled out to the side.

The thing that made this peculiar was that it wasn't tied in place. No, it was held in place by several enormous wing feathers of unknown origin (Eagle? Gull? Crow?). The feathers were mostly quill and shaft, and the vane part had gone all ragged. The feathers were pierced through the sweater, voodoo-style.

In other news, I dreamed I slept at a youth hostel/porn shop.

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