The Birds

So. I was walking along today... as anyone with legs and the ability to mobilize them is wont to do. And let me tell you, it is just beautiful outside. BEAUTIFUL. The birds were chirping, the wind is breezing, and I have that skip in my step that just screams out to the world about my delightful breakfast beverage (whipped cream with some hot chocolate on the bottom)...

Anywhoser. It's just the epitome of lovely out.
And I'm walking along.
The birds be chirpin'.

Yeah... you ever look at a bird up close?

 

For your own sake- I hope not.

 Because they are SUPER creepy. Those chirping, cheeping, annoying little things with wings are scary. I was admiring one such bird's plumage on my walk today. It's so shiny, and black looking, but not really black, it's got a whole rainbow of jewel-tones hidden away in it. It's like a Poe mixed with a tiny little tropical paradise in the middle of a Nebraskan sidewalk.
Then, you see it actually chirp.

 

You can't hear it, because it's not beautiful. It's frightening. It makes you want to break out in a dead sprint. Because they stop pecking at there little early-wormed ground, completely glued to the spot, their beak opens and their little bird neck puffs out and they squawk.


It doesn't sound like much but-- it is in that moment that you know this is possible:

They CAN. And they, most likely, especially if you watch a lot of crime dramas where the body is left in a field, WILL eat your freakin' face off.

With that lovely sentiment, I bid y'all a good night.

Ain't That a Kick in the Head

I fell down the stairs again, and I am using that as my reasoning for my headache, which is my reasoning for not medicating. I hate medicine. But... liqui-gels are awesome.

Anyway.

Crap.

I forgot what I was going to say.
But... nothing says "homesick" like missing a town like Lawson, and nothing says home like being able to pour yourself a tall glass of ice cold milk whenever you want, even after eight P.M., then take it back to your room instead of having to stay there, in a completely different building, to drink it at a sticky table.

Not that that's the one big problem I have with dining halls... pssh. That would be childish.

Songs for the Postman

I feel these are appropriate for today... oh, the good ol' USPS.

I heard this playing in the dining hall kitchen this morning. I wanted to watch Star Trek last night. Perfect video compromise? No. But close enough :)

Alice Strikes Again With Another Lovely Dream

 11:37P - 10:32A

This was last night's dream, the night of the 20th going on the 21st of April in 2011. I was actually in this dream. I think that the person walking around, the protagonist- if you will, was actually me, and not someone just close enough to me to be identifiable as me- but me, Katie Lyon, with all of my quirks and normalcies. The actual dream I think was really long, but I remember one part that I really want to go back to...

I was walking around the downstairs of Neihardt, my residence hall, and there's all these rooms for student congregations down there, one with really comfy velvety couches, and the one across from it- all parlor-y with a piano. Anyway, I was strolling, and I decided to take a scenic detour through the piano room. There were like five people already in there, four sitting on a couch, or on the floor in front of the couch (a couch, which thinking about that room in comparison to the actual room, does not actually exist) and the other guy sitting on a chair across from them (an armless parlor chair that does exist, but in greater quantities than it did in the dream parlor (the dream parlor didn't even have the piano, I don't think.)) 

The guy sitting in the chair had his eyes closed, and was pointing to people, as a part of a game where he was "it," like some version of Mafia and Pictionary all rolled up into a game that I don't really understand as a conscious person. He was making up this senario for the person he was pointing to, then would include others by pointing to them, so after finishing his sentence pointing to this one girl (with really great hair), his arm traveled right, where none of his friends were sitting, but I was still standing, watching. His friends were so entertained by the fact that he had decided to include an invisible person in their game, that they didn't say anything. I was entertained by being included at all, so I played along as well as I could as someone who isn't supposed to do anything, and I walked closer to the group. I couldn't tell you the details, but the guy kept going, and it eventually got to the point where I was supposed to say something to keep playing along, and it seemed logical that I say it with a fake accent that sounded vaguely South American. 

He figured out that this whole time he'd been pointing at someone not in his group, and he smirked. There was a pause in my speech, and he jumped in to ask something, adding that I should stop with the accent. I already had stopped with the accent, and having said a few things in my normal voice, I told him that I wasn't speaking with an accent anymore, then answered his question. His friends remained entertained by the chance of it all, and told me to sit down. I sat. I guess that round of the game was over, the guy opened his eyes and lounged back. 

Our faces at some point got really close, like in a really intense staring contest, but I blink too much for the standard staring contest, so I don't think that was it. It was pretty much over after that. 

I don't remember any details or any of my other dreams from this morning, but I do remember that it was really nice to meet those people, even though it is possible that I didn't learn their names. It was disappointing when I realized I hadn't met them at all. Maybe one day.

Okay- Alice

 1:25A - 8:55A

I remember that I dyed my hair. It came out purple. I was surprised looking at my not-purple hair this morning, but relieved because I didn't think it was going to wash out in time for work. This was the only element of my dream that made any sense.

Then I was watching Knocked Up. Weird already, I know. Except instead of being lazy, weed loving, and raunchy, they simply had multiple personalities. They had the calm personality that was put together and could raise that poor little baby without screwing it up. Then they would blink, and they'd go dead inside. Wandering off, leaving the baby alone. Then, when Katherine Heigl went blank and crazy, whats-his-face came to his fatherly senses and went back. 

It was screwy. It was longer, significantly, much longer than the three minute shark dream that took me three pages to describe, but this is the gist of Knocked Up gone Me, Myself and Irene.  That's all I remember. I'm just going to blame the fact that I channel flipped on to this yesterday, and I am rife with teenage hormones at the moment, and not try to interpret it because THAT interpretation will most certainly give me a nightmare.

"I was just blinking..." by Alice

9:45A-10:00A

Someone tapped me on the back.

Except not really. Thank you, mystery dream person. If you hadn't given me that hardy clap on my left (or right, I don't actually remember that far back) shoulder blade, then that thirty second nap during Intro to Anthro would've been longer and probably louder. 

On a slightly related note by cat- have you seen this? Is this guy not me?
http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/Ak2VEe/www.funnyordie.com/videos/bb4dcb8767/the-morning-routine

"Hello, My Name is Bruce" by Alice

12:30A-9:06A

I stopped using the computer, just finishing stumbling and homework, in the computer lab at midnight, like a responsible Aaaah-dult. Then I went like a sleepy zombie would, eating the brains of any passerbys, to bed. I neglected to put on pajamas, but that's not SUPER relevant. While I was waiting for sleep to overtake my exhausted eyelids, I was really hungry from the recipes I had stumbled upon and crave, so I, like, chewed the air. It probably would have looked like I was talking in my sleep or pretending to be a piranha. I don't know, for sure. That was very much so an IN-body experience.

First of all, I must have dreamed that I had my chair back here, because when I got up, I was surprised to find it missing.

Secondly, I was swimming through the ocean. I had flippers. I was worried I wasn't utilizing them properly, to the best of my advantage or whatever, and I had goggles. I feel like I had something to hold with my hands too, but I didn't have an oxygen tank or any sort of breathing device. I didn't go up for air. Air is irrelevant to this person. I was circling around, making sure my flipper was attached to my foot well enough, and then I began to flap towards shore. The water was very green and bubbly, and comfortably free of wild life, sort of like what you see in magazine ads when the models are under water and their hair is all, whosh. That's my favorite part of swimming, is how my hair feels under water. 

Anyway, I was heading towards shore, almost there even though the water was no shallower and the sand below me presumably no more rocky, and I was thinking about sharks, and how sharks are typically non-violent and they mistake humans for dolphins or seals or whatever and that's the only reason they would attack. 

I felt contented by these facts but I felt like I needed to turn around. And there was a shark there. I didn't make the connection. If I had, it certainly would be strange that it was so close to shore, and very certainly scream-worthy. Once my brain was in the condition to freak out, having realized that it was scared of sharks, especially the shark mere feet away from me in it's natural habitat, I started to swim frantically faster, but my flippers became flimsy and uncooperative as they were before. 

Then I thought that I should behave less like a dolphin, despite the fact that I had none of the grace that would cause that confusion. So I stopped swimming to float there until I thought that maybe dolphins acted like that all of the time, playing dead. I have no idea where the shark was through all of this, but at that point it hit me. 

Down my left side was stuck this shard of something, like bone, or a naked twig, something that looked like that, so I assumed I had been bitten, but I wasn't scared of that, but glad that the shark was gone.

Then there was a man and a lady, the man standing there with a tracking device, like a phone signal tracker. There were dots for the man and lady, a dot for the attacked swimmer and her name, a dot labeled shark, and a dot with the swimmer that had a four letter name that I think ended with 'by' like Maby, but this dot is a boy, and Maby isn't really a name to begin with, let alone a boy name.

Then I'm on the shore, with "Maby" and I realized that I wasn't actually cut. But I was sure that the shark had hit me.

 I have now concluded that the shark did hit me with it's crocodile strength tail and caused my ribs to break internally. This dream was definitely alluding to my ever present habit to procrastination. I don't think it told me anything I don't know though, but I'm sort of honored that it decided to be that clearly metaphorical at all.

We're Not In Kansas Anymore

I have kooky dreams. Every day. They're awesome. But, just like you can't remember half of them as soon as you wake up- you can't remember any of the super duper dream lands as you go throughout the day, let alone the rest of your internet-using-career. Posts from now on that are "by" Alice, mean that they are kooky dreams I had and desire to record for easier recollection.

Note: I experience dreams in a convoluted way that makes "self" and people hard to describe. I am not me. People are not who they are. They are combinations of all actors and characters and real people and people that could be real that I could know and faceless stock people that I might like to know someday. In order to describe my dreams to myself, I push my identity on to the nearest dream person. More on that later... Anyway.

Wrinkles

Crow's feet are definitely the cutest wrinkles ever. This post has been prompted by an anti-aging commercial against crow's feet. Crazy cream-users...

Awwww...

Broken computer, broken heart

I am SORRY, computer, for any wrongs I have done you! I should've bought a protective foamy cover for you, but I didn't. I should get the special screen cloth to wipe my fingerprints off your screen, but I use Windex-the off brand. I should not eat and use you at the same time- but I do... I didn't treat you right, computer, and for that, I apologize. On that note, or perhaps another hand, or something like that, WHY YOU GOTTA DO DAT TO ME? You broke. You no longer recognize your cord as your ally, you don't recognize it at all. That's just rude. Never fear. I will buy you a new (eighty-dollar) cord, with my limited funds. I promise not to drop you again, I will always get down, out of my bed, then set you on a safe, stable surface before I go to bed. I will use a napkin, instead of my tongue, to remove BBQ chip crumbs from my fingers before I touch you. Whatever you want. Just, please, for the love of god, keep working until I graduate. That is the allotted time that I need you for. THEN (and only then) you may retire, and I will use you for Free Cell and Free Cell only, and I will use my MacBook Pro for work. Deal?



On a COMPLETELY unrelated note, look at this cupcake.

Eww. Now. I like cupcakes. The icing is supposed to be the best part.
You know, I shouldn't even have to post this. I am not going to forget! This is one of my principles! This is a deep GUT REACTION THAT WILL NEVER GO AWAY! But, on the off chance that someone wants to bring me a cupcake at any given time (I will totally give you my exact coordinates so you can do just that, but brownies are good too) don't bring me a cupcake like this. I will NOT EAT IT.
The icing is SUPPOSED TO BE

I am a little obsessed with ALL CAPS TODAY. Sorry. This is one third of the amount of capital letters I was originally going to use.

Anyway. The icing is supposed to be the best part. Not that icing up there. That is what cool whip is supposed to look like, when it's from a can. Canned cool whip is definitely the most entertaining way to go. We all know that. That icing up there looks... evil. Like decorative poop. It reminds me of poop. Why do they have to get all "fancy?" Hmmm? IT'S A CUPCAKE PEOPLE!!!! Cupcakes, by definition, are supposed to be childish and silly, and the opposite of fancy. Cupcakes are like mac and cheese from a box. Mac and cheese from a box will never be macaroni pasta with a heavy creamy cheese sauce that warms you up and makes you feel like there are cobblestone streets directly outside of your window. Cupcakes will never be cheesecake. Cupcakes should remind you of getting all excited because of how swelteringly hot it is outside, so you change into your cheesy little swimsuit with the huge Hawaiian flowers all over it, and you run like a madman outside to play with the garden hose. Then you stand at the door, dripping and full of energy, no matter what your mood is, and beg to go inside. But you can't. Because you're an annoying little kid, with dirty grassy feet, and you are soaked. So you wiggle your cute little kid butt until your mom brings you a cupcake. It's ugly. But you look at that sloppily smeared on pink icing, which has hardened from sitting on the counter all day, and you see perfection. Because now you can lick on that cupcake like it's a tootsie roll pop, and the icing is all sugary and full of delicious red 40 and imitation vanilla flavor. Then you infuse the sugary remnants with the muffin top, gnaw into it like a wild animal, and throw the rest of that nasty thing into the yard. NOT FANCY!

Fancy and yummy are not in the same ball park. They can be, if they want to be, they often are, but from a child's point of view- the two couldn't be more different.

What have we learned?
1. Slop that icing on like you don't even care what it looks like, because it's already made of sugar and pink, and you are thinking about putting sprinkles on, but only the good kind that isn't the gross rock sugar that couldn't conflict more with the soft textures of the cupcake, and basically, a bunch of kids are going to eat the cupcakes. The less fancy, the better it tastes, and the less "butter cream" they get on their forehead.
2. Don't think I don't have a rule about any given topic. I have rules about EVERYTHING, and very few things to back those rules up. But those things, those backers, could stretch on for PAGES.