Pleasantly Surprising

Generally, I am what most people would call cynical about life, but I would prefer to think of myself as realistic. This means that I don't always assume people are bad, but I don't always assume they're good - realistic. Well, I had a problem in my flat. My neighbors are unpleasantly loud a good deal of the time. Luckily, they moved out for the summer about a week or so ago. Good times. Well, they are attacking me still. I woke up yesterday to a quiet, but persistent fire alarm. It was quiet enough to not notice right away, but loud enough to be able to pick out at any given time once you were aware of it. Now, my neighbors weren't there. No smoke, no fire. So now what? I figured that the alarm must be attached to the fire department in some way and the situation would rectify itself. Off to the gym I went. I came back and it was still going. I went to work, and various other places... still going. Alright. This morning it was still going. So that makes 24 hours solid of fire alarm with no one caring. I emailed my housing contact, unsure of even who to call. Clearly it wasn't an emergency, except that it was driving me slowly and steadily insane.

My contact is naturally out of the office today. Of course. But she included an email to contact "if urgent." Well, I declared it urgent. I emailed the random man who would surely not care and not consider this his duty (okay, slightly cynical). Then I went off to the gym. By the time I got back, the infernal racket had ceased, the man had emailed me to say that he was on his way, emailed to say he had been there and he had left me a letter and his business card in my door to apologise profusely for the inconvenience. I am pleasantly surprised.

Second and much shorter pleasantry: I put away most of the dishes at work because these people are useless at cleaning up after themselves. It's cool. I like to be the one putting away the dishes anyway - I'm better at it. :) As I was ducking and dodging through the people in the kitchen (who would conspicuously not helping put away dishes), a guy said, "Do you do a lot of dancing?" I assumed he was joking and laughed and gave some kind of affirmative answer. He then pressed to know what kind of dancing. If he had to guess, he would say ballroom. What? I had to apologise and tell him I was kidding. I had no formal training in dancing and was actually rubbish at it. He seemed surprised as well as those around him. I do not permeate an air of grace. I know this. But it's nice to know I'm getting better at hiding my clutzy nature.

Big Day Out

I am in shock! I was just watching Kiwi MTV, and they were talking about Big Day Out, a huge music festival that is mainly in Aussie, but is also in New Zealand. It's big. One of the two creators of the event just said that he got the idea after being at Milwaukee's Summerfest!! Shock. They just talked about Milwaukee on Kiwi MTV. That's awesome.

I am so cultured now because I'm from the elusive, musically inspiring Milwaukee!

Sunny Dunedin

When I first arrived here, I saw these t-shirts that say "Sunny Dunedin". I thought they were cute, though they cost $65. I didn't realise what a huge joke the shirt actually was. It rains a lot here. The past couple weeks had me fearing I would need to move up into the mountains to avoid the flooding. But, of course, it wasn't that bad and it was temporary. The sun broke through yesterday, also known as "Best Thanksgiving Ever." Yes, I realise it wasn't even Thanksgiving anymore, but honestly, who cares? I might have gone to the beach, but alas - Best Thanksgiving Ever required cooks. So, I woke up today fully expecting the storm clouds to have gathered while I slept. Not so.

The sun has stayed another day! It's amazing to me how much of a difference sun makes. The flies don't even bother me today. (Stupid flies.) I will celebrate by napping in the sun and reading. And also praying the sun stays a little bit longer this time.

So Full

It's a wonder I'm not currently puking. We brought Thanksgiving to New Zealand even if it meant cooking heaps of food for the two Americans in the vicinity. Mmm. I think I finally found a recipe for vegetarian gravy that matches (but doesn't beat) Jaime's mom's. A-mazing, friends. Spectacular. Wine, food, friends, movies. Wonderful.

I now must resist the urge to puke because it would be a waste of fantastic food. This year I'm thankful for... copious amounts of food and a holiday a world away.

Me: 1, Uni: 0

Okay, my title is misleading. I don't know that I've actually won something, but I feel victorious. :) We get heaps and heaps of junk mail. By 'we', I mean students as well as Kiwis. I think there's a law in the States against people just walking around and putting crap in people's mailboxes. That law does not exist here. Let's just say, for example, that I wanted to stuff every person's mailbox in the city with a flyer that said, "Annika rules". Because, well, I do. I could do that as long as I'm keen to walk all over the city to do so. This means tons of flyers telling me that evening's drink specials at approximately ten bars, pizza deals, flyers for every store in town and political newsletters that I don't care about. That's just your average pile of mail. I hate this kind of mail. I did not sign up to hear your daily drink specials, I am not a communist/socialist/green party/lefty/righty politically obsessed person. I can't vote here, so I don't care. And if you knew I was an American, I bet you'd keep your politics as far from me as possible. I don't want to order your dumb pizza, I don't care how much your new plasma TVs are on sale - I can't afford it. I don't want an advert for the hardware store; I own a hammer and nails, what else could I possibly need? And Green party, why oh why are you printing out mass quantities of paper ads that people just throw out without recycling (I don't just on principle there)?

My retaliation is simple. If I get any kind of mail that doesn't have my name or address on it, I throw it in a bin that is next to my front door. It isn't actually my bin, so it must be the University's. It is actually for mulching, I think, because the uni's gardening staff use it for leaves, branches and grass. They clean it out every two weeks and it has their mulch and my two weeks' worth of ads. This has gone on since the first week I arrived here in Sunny Dunedin.

This week, they took away my bin.

Now, I can see that this might not be considered a victory. Even if it is a victory, I don't know that I won over the university. But, I feel like it is. Because someone else was irritated by the rubbish too. I mean, technically, they couldn't ever prove it was me because there isn't any identification on the mail - hence the problem. Now, it's not just an issue of my annoyance. Is that a victory? I don't know, but I'll take it.

This Explains So Much!

My horoscope for today, under the heading of love, said this:

"For the first time in this lifetime, Jupiter is getting cosmic support from Uranus as he moves through your romantic sector. This will last for the next 5 days and will be repeated again next May and August, for a few days and then never again. Expect serendipitous moments, choreographed by fate."

Well, no wonder! So fate hasn't been backing up my love life. At all. My one shot at fate-destined love is for the next five days, another five days next year... and then never again! You know, considering horoscopes are a lot of crapola anyway, wouldn't you put something optimistic? Do I really want to read this one again? "Quick - find true love in the next five days, or start buying cats, crazy lady!" Sigh.

Lord of the Flies

I used to be more grossed out by bugs than I am now. I saw my first (surprisingly red) cockroach in Fiji crawling on my luggage. I was more impressed by seeing it than grossed out. Several spiders are now aware that I won't kill them, so we now hang out. The bees here are huge, but don't really bother me. They're like small birds. The one thing that does gross me out is flies.

They are also giant. They are about the size of the last section of my pinky. That's huge as far as bugs go, I think. Bees look almost fuzzy, dancing around the flowers. Flies just look big and black and oddly shiny. I mean, seriously, are they wet or something? Gross. This past Sunday, on the way to church, Kelley and I happened upon a small black pile of something. Turns out, it was flies. Gross. They were covering a small chicken bone or something, but the sound they made was absolutely disgusting. A whole heap of flies suddenly buzzing around, disturbed by our footsteps. Gross. Then we happened upon another mysterious pile of something. I'll call this one a large batch of what could have been chili, but with bigger chunkier bits. We didn't look long. The flies wouldn't even touch this one. On our way back, the birds had found it and were pecking away.

I'm not usually too squeamish. But sick. So now I think of flies as smaller vultures. And c'mon. Who doesn't think of the flies buzzing around the pig head from Lord of the Flies when they hear that much buzzing? I repeat. Gross.

Day Three of Rain

Would start to build ark, but fear it's too late. Sick of rain.

Harry Potter

First, I would like to start by stating my displeasure at the fact that Harry Potter hasn't come out here. And secondly, yes, I do have tickets for the screening at 12.01 am of the day it comes out (Wednesday night/Thursday morning).

I read an article today saying that the movie has made significantly less each sequel that has come out. I would like to point out that it grossed (in the States) $101 million opening weekend. Yeah, sounds depressing. That is of course not to mention the overseas sales that it will be bringing it. Apparently, the last movie (the worst one yet, then) made over a billion from overseas tickets alone. Seriously, are we that worried about J.K. Rowling?

But seriously, I can't friggin' wait for this movie. I think I will get there super early so I can get a good seat and buy candy and popcorn because I want to revel in the childhood wonderland that this is. I can remember finishing this book, chewing on my nails, sitting tensely upright on my parents' bed. So what if I was in college... that, my friends, is reading. Getting so excited by the ending that you can't stop reading, no matter what time it is, no matter what you have to do. And the movie can be an extension of that reading experience. Sheer joy.

I can't friggin' wait.

I'm Psychic!

I say there's going to be Fiji pictures and here they are! :) I am still working on getting all the pictures and then putting them in my photo website, but for now, this will have to do. Above, we are on the Seaspray and most likely yelling BULA! Because it is fun to say.
Here we are mixing booze and boating. I hear that's intelligent. In all seriousness, this is moments before we all jumped in the water to go snorkeling up to the island that Castaway was filmed on. Loyal blog readers will recall that we were battered on the coral there. How happy and unknowing we are here. :)

Soccer Team Booze Cruise

Well, it's a bit belated, but I just got some pictures from the soccer team booze cruise. The rate I'm going, I'll even be able to put up some pictures from Fiji before the year is out. :) But this is us at a vineyard in Central Otago somewhere before we had consumed too much celebratory booze for our spectacular two goals all season. :) Huzzah! And yes, I am sporting the Chi Omega bar crawl shirt in a country with no concept of Greek life except Animal House.

Strange Bedfellows

I have always had a small bed. It wasn't until college that I even realised that I was completely unaware of how comfortable a bed could be. When suddenly everyone sees your bed and your comforter, then it starts to be important how it looks. When your bed also doubles as your couch, its comfort suddenly becomes important as well. My early years at university found me collapsing into drowsy sleep on top of books, (clean) laundry, homework, and other random pieces of life that wandered onto my bed during the day.

Senior year, I had my nest. A heap of down blankets and pillows that you could ooze into. I still had the odd book or two in there, but mostly it was soft down. Blissful. Still, it was tiny and I felt comfortable in my small space.

At home and school for the past 20-odd years, I have had a teeny bed with lots of such crap on it. When I got to New Zealand and my partially furnished flat, I found a huge bed. A queen size. At first, I still slept all in one corner, getting used to this ocean of sheets and blankets. Now, I lounge, basking in the room. However, there is still way too much room for one wee girl. I woke up this morning to realise how much I use my bed as a hobby table. I woke up to find that I had been sleeping with knitting needles (two different sizes) a ball of wool, scissors, two books, my remote for my TV, and my glasses. The foot of my bed held my workout clothes prepared for the morning. It occurred to me that this just might be unusual.

I could outline the reasoning behind each of these objects in my bed, but I won't. The simple explanation might be that I like to be almost suffocated by my own things. Yes, that's cryptic and all-encompassing. Perfect.

Well, I Never!

A while ago, I was introduced to getting free samples of things online. All you have to do is submit yourself to some silly email lists and you get free soap, free face cleansers, free lotion. Good times. And if you put down an inaccurate email address, so much the better. But I must have put my real one down on at least one. I got an ad today from NZgirl (which I had thought was for preteens) that said:

"Legs are being bared, tank tops dragged out of hibernation and toenails painted in anticipation of sandal wearing season. The weather’s heating up but how are things between your sheets?"

Gasp!! It went on to describe, in intimate detail, some key ingredients for spicing up my love life. Ew. This had better not be for preteen girls! I felt a little off guard and I consider myself partially adult-ish. And what a segue, right? Summer's here, get ready for sex! Seriously. Spam, you shock me.

Culinary Explosion!

I like food. I also rather enjoy weird food. Some of my favorite dishes have come about in my living alone. It's great not to have to excuse what you're eating. Of course, freshman year, I had no issue eating a can of peas for lunch, much to the chagrin of those living nearby. It did smell, I suppose. But many of my meals come from throwing things that I like together and seeing how they taste together. Such as: crossing peanut butter and honey with tuna fish and cream cheese; mashed potatoes with spinach and frozen corn and sweet Thai chili sauce; eggs and veggies baked into pita bread. I like these things. I wouldn't serve them to other people, but I am not other people.

New Zealand has catered to my weird food fetish because they have weird food in general. Yesterday I bought some spicy apricot hummus. Yeah, think about those aspects combined. I also got onion and chive pita bread strips to eat the hummus with. I cannot express to you how delicious this combo was. I mean, really. I think when I eventually depart this country for good, I will miss the random things I can readily find in the grocery store. Luckily, I have another year or so to enjoy my crazy food combos.

Jogger's Nod

I used to be a runner. This may shock and astound those of you that do know me. In high school, I was on cross country. I hated it and it hated me. I was awful. You have to get to the point where you don't focus on the fact that you're running, but rather on the meditative quality it can offer. I was not a meditatively minded 14 year old. Whatever.

I gave it up after the season and didn't really look back, aside from the running Lisa and I did (with the sidestops to get ice cream at Lucky's on the way). Today, I was sick of the gym. I mean, it can get monotonous. So I decided to run. I know. This in itself is shocking. But I went and enjoyed it. It was meditative. I hit a rhythm and enjoyed it, but I didn't go for too long. Keeping it a positive experience of course. :)

But the real cool part was that I got to see the quiet botanical gardens. Since it had been so warm and rainy here, everything has that earthy green glow to it. Not many people were out and about and I only saw one other runner. She gave the jogger's nod. I felt like someone had just slipped the secret handshake of a secret club. Ha! I passed for a regular runner! I think that in itself was fun.

Botanical gardens... 7am. Be there or be c.

The Nutcracker

I saw The Nutcracker today!! I used to see this play when I was younger and adored it. But you know how such things are - you rarely remember much other than a fondness. I couldn't really tell you the story line other than it's a Christmas Eve where the toys come to life. Okay, actually that's a pretty good summary, but you know what I mean.

The version that I saw was actually an adaptation that threw in some new stuff and took out some classic stuff (no mice!) but all in all, it was great to have some Christmas spirit here. Yes, yes. I know it's some time off, but you gotta fit in so much Christmas stuff into such a short amount of time. There's also just something about live theatre. I have always admired dancers especially because I have absolutely no talent for it. They are dainty and graceful - two things that permanently evade me. Then again, after seeing (oh my God, I am shocked that I forgot its name! We watched it endlessly at Valpo!) that dancing movie, you can see how it can become hardcore and overwhelming.

Still, even though it's a show seen in the hectic holiday season and it's all a pretty illusion on the stage, it's a wonderful illusion. I want more. :)

Business Savvy

Yeah, I rule. This is really just a note to relish in the fact that I no longer have to work really long hours anymore. Student life, here we come. It's summer; I'm only allowed to work 20 hours a week; the sun is out and craving my attention.

Also, I worked so many hours in the past few weeks that I will be getting paid like I am working like a hoss, but will in fact not be working like said hoss. I rule.

Sorry for being so blatant about my coolness, but it's rather undeniable in this situation. :)

Class Act

Summer in Dunedin might not be so bad. I mean, I get restless when I'm in one place for too long and this is, after all, a smallish town. Yes there are things to do, but not a whole lot of them are new.

One thing I have wanted to do since I got here was eat at one of the restaurants in the centre of town outside and people-watch. Specifically, I have wanted to do this accompanied by good friends, fine wine, and some breads and cheeses. Today was that day. It was fun, though we weren't actually all that classy. Laughing and storytelling unfortunately don't make for tangible sophistication, but they do make for a grand ol' time. Then, the class-factor really went downhill.

I went to the toilets and discovered that one of my favorite restaurants (the one we were dining at) shares a big glass wall with the art gallery. I suppose I sort of knew this. But I hadn't taken in the view of the darkened art gallery before. Of course, to those seeing me from the dining area, I just looked like I was staring at a blank wall. I went into the toilet for such purposes as it is designed, and washed my hands. The burning water prevented me from completely getting the soap off and the hand dryer was impossible. I ended up using my skirt to dry my hands. I will allow a moment of shame. But you couldn't tell, and no one had seen me. Still. It's moments like that you realise how class has no room for a person in a bathroom alone.

Roly-Poly Yanks

I read an article today about Americans being fat. It was one of the oddest articles I have ever read; I am sure it is propaganda, but I have no idea what I'm being persuaded of. (And I stole this picture from the article... just felt I ought to include that.)

Basically, it discusses the opposing camps of dieters and fat people. Both sides want the other to be converted to a Zen like understanding of weight, beauty, and food. I find it all a little odd. I mean, I can understand that being fat is bad even taking away any notions of beauty, it's just plain unhealthy. But why is it my business if you're fat or vice versa? The dieters apparently are boycotting the fact that America produces too much food, that fast food places have supersize options, and that "a third of the country is currently obese... the fat are fast becoming a majority." Ignoring the horrible maths skills there, I still don't see where this has anything to do with me. Just because the food industry makes food doesn't mean I have to eat it. Just because I can supersize my food doesn't mean I am forced into obesity. And mostly, it just plain has nothing to do with me. The article also mocks the new McDonald's policy that posts its caloric content on the wrappers of the burgers. Our author thinks it's preposterous that you must first pay for the food before you find out it's 730 calories. Ah yes, how many of us have been similarly deceived: What?! This isn't a non-fat, soy burger? This thing dripping with grease and cheese is... gasp... bad for me?

As for the fat camp, they are trying to say that dieting only makes you fatter, as "one activist" says: "The way to fatten an animal is to starve it and then re-feed it. Your metabolism slows down when you're eating less. People on diets are predisposing their body to gain more weight." Now, again, I am not sold on this at all. Dieting doesn't mean starving yourself anymore than the existence of supersized meals creates fat people. The logic is horrible. The thin are yelling at the fat for being fat (for what reason again?) and the fat are yelling back at the thin (again... why?) and everyone's yelling at The Corporation for making us all so unhappy.

I'm all for health, but since when is it anyone's business? If people want to eat themselves to death, who assigned you Saviour? I don't want people telling me how to eat - and that goes for the thin and the fat. Don't call me a sellout because I try to eat healthy and don't call me crazy for sometimes ingesting (God forbid) pizza. I'd say the real crisis here is how much influence we feel that we can make in other people's lives. Well, that and the horrid writing of the article.

Happy Holidays?

Apparently Father Christmas has arrived. I went shopping recently and discovered a whole section of my local department store decked out in Christmas trees and lights and ornaments. It actually stopped me in my tracks. It's getting warmer here and it's been increasingly hard to remind myself that Christmas is a-coming. Plus, Christmas is taking on new significance for me because I (ever so briefly) am coming home (whichever of the 17 locales I will be inhabiting that is "home")!

I took the opportunity to wander through the pretty section of holiday decorations. Actually, I had the same look on my face as a four year old perched on his father's shoulders looking at the decorations. Hey, I like small, shiny objects, what can I say?

But at least this year, I think I will have finally re-created the anticipation of my younger days. As you get older, holidays become less fun as they are tedious and harried. But this year, I have to get all my presents bought early (so I can take them home with me), and am looking forward to the trip home as well as the actual holiday.

So although there isn't the bliss of the year's first snowfall, or the brisk cold that is winter, I am enjoying my tribute to another time and place - a hot chocolate out of a Santa mug. So before I get caught up in the million things I need to do before I get on that plane (let alone thinking about that crazy long flight), I am taking a moment to remember why I used to get so excited about the holidays.

• friends and family!
• snow
• ice skating
• Christmas carolling with illegal hot chocolate and peppermint schnapps
• did I mention friends and family?
• Christmas movies
• the nutcracker
• Christmas music
• friends and family!
• cookies and cakes
• my mom's broccoli-cheesy-rice goodness
• my aunt's veggie pizza
• Christmas morning lounge fest, complete with omelettes, pancakes, and enough coffee to drown several horses
• Christmas eve service and my dad singing "hark, Herald, the angel sang.." and me giggling like a four year old
• driving around and looking at candy cane lane (before it got ghetto)
• FRIENDS AND FAMILY!

Sigh. I know it's a month and a half away, but why wouldn't you want to revel in those things for at least that long?

Privacy

I am a relatively private person which may or may not surprise you. I mean, I like to write about most everything that happens in my little life, but then again, it's only a selected section. I am quite reclusive and enjoy my private life, but not to a creepy extent. :)

One place that I didn't realise I was private about is the gym. I went to the gym today, as I do, and hopped onto the wee bike with my book, also as I do. After a while, I popped my head up to have a look around and see who my work out friends were. There are people that you always work out with at the same time, though you're not friends. You say hello and nod, and that ends the relationship, but these people have been let into a bit of intimacy because they see you first thing in the morning, sweating like a pig. Then, I noticed someone I knew. Actually knew.

One of the contractors that has been helping CFI get relatively central heating was pumping away at a bike near me. I was mortified. I can't even explain why. This guy and I are on friendly terms at work, chatting frequently throughout the day. We didn't really acknowledge each other and he was finishing his workout as I was starting mine, but it felt supremely uncomfortable for me. Why would this person be any different than the other twenty or so people who see me equally grubby every morning?

I think the gym is just a place where you want some privacy, at least from the influences of your normal day. I don't want to see coworkers at the gym any more than I'd like to see my professors at the gym. I haven't had time to prepare my "professional image" perhaps. I wonder if I can ask them to ban people I work with? :)

Sticky Situation

There are times that I like to pretend I'm an adult and there are times I like to pretend that I'll never grow up. (The trick is, if I'm pretending in both cases, then what am I really?) The recent past has been an effort to be adult. I have been obscenely productive in my life as of late and that always makes me feel grown up. Also, working copious amounts of hours contributes to the adult feeling.

Imagine my chagrin when I got a big kick of "childish" in the rear this morning. I woke up and had some toast with jam (apparently eating prior to working out helps my working out stamina - who knew?) while catching up on reading blogs and away messages. Yes, it's a sad life, but it's grown up! :)

Then, I ran to the bathroom before heading out to the gym, looked in the mirror and noticed I had jam in my eyebrow. Yes, my eyebrow. And yes, jam.

It's rather hard to maintain adult dignity when you have purple jam on your face. I don't even know how I did it, though my mom did used to make fun of me because I couldn't eat chocolate without covering my face in a moist brown residue. We all have our weaknesses. Apparently mine is eating.

Smile Pretty!

For you loyal, longtime blog readers, you'll recall that people frequently yell at me for looking angry and mean if they pass me on the street. I have an angry face. It turns out my work face is the opposite.

I have been called the following in the past week: Sunshine, Smiley, Mona Lisa (the computer screen covers up a bit of my face from far away), Giggles, Miss Goodside (because I don't have a bad side to get on), and Wonderful. This is utterly preposterous.

This past week, I have had to do lots of jobs at work that I don't like. Cleaning out a storage cupboard, putting little tags on every key we own that say CFI, and continually cleaning up after people's mess in the tea room. I am now working on figuring out the location, use, and ownership of every key in the building. I don't even know how to use Excel and I have to make a spreadsheet of all this information in varying cross reference-able formats.

I slammed my knee into my printer today leaving a limp, a mark, and a bad mood. I got yelled at that the milk isn't rotated in the fridges and for not alerting my boss of a meeting he had the next morning when it wasn't on my calendar and I didn't know I was meant to remind him of his appointments that are on his calendar. Yet, still. Today alone I got Smiley and someone told me I was born for work with people.

I must be a good actress. I don't really get all my new responsibilities, I am tired of working, and my head hurts from all the incompetencies of my peers before me. So apparently, if I look happy, I probably hate you and if I look angry, I probably love you. Now you know.

Fire Envy

I found a way I am jealous of the undergraduates here. I walked past this nasty flat the other day and saw papers strewn about the lawn. I thought, "Ugh, what pigs" while conveniently forgetting what my house's lawn looked like senior year. :) Then I figured out what the papers were. They had had a bonfire of all their notes from some class. I actually felt a distinct and real pang of jealousy.

I had classes this year that I hated. One in particular. I would have loved to torch all the stupid papers and all the stupid articles and especially all her idiotic comments on my papers. But I can't really do that at this stage. I mean, some of the articles are really good and applicable to my life as a teacher. Her comments on papers are important for my developing academic (and hopefully publishable) writing. Plus, where would I have this fire? :)

I miss the days when I could acknowledge that classes were a true waste of time. Astronomy. Lord, I hated that class. Fun lab group, but otherwise, a big black hole (pun intended) of educative experience. Greek and Roman Civ. God, I struggled. I know nothing about history. I spent the first half of the class frantically writing down everything the professor said and rereading all the chapters a billion times then finally giving up and realising this stuff wouldn't stick. Naturally, I picked up my frantic reading a week before the final. None of this stuff has ever helped me again. Those classes, I could torch the materials to. I could, without guilt, give a big "Screw you!" to the profs of. These classes, bah. I need to use this crap for furthering my professional experience, blah blah blah.

I miss when I could say, "School, you matter not." It will make me feel better when we have our beachside bonfire this weekend. No papers, but burning will be involved. Maybe it will satiate the pyro inside.

Roar

I've been having some crazy dreams lately and felt I at least ought to write them down somewhere. First, I need to say that I have this talent for when a dream gets too scary to wake myself up. My dreams are pretty messed up sometimes and it's really a necessity. I don't like being chased, and there can be some pretty intense chase scenes in my dreams. And as I've mentioned before, I have no problem dying in my dreams, contrary to folklore. I don't like it very much, so I wake myself up when it gets too scary.

Dream is as follows, from where I remember it: I am sitting on in a cabin-esque hut, on a bed next to the door, waiting. I can look over to where my family has been mauled by something, except for my mom who is kind of still alive. She tosses me one of those big two spronged fork things to add to my weaponry collection of one big knife. I am in pouncing position waiting for the perpetrator to strike again. I can hear tremendous growling outside the door. In jumps the largest lion I have ever seen (because my experience with lions is vast). I sit, tense with anticipation, but hope I can just run away. But, I sneeze (this is clearly taken from a commercial I have seen) and the lion leaps at me. I am stabbing relatively calmly at the lion's neck, but he is starting to eat me. It hurts tremendously. I most certainly am about to die, but I am struggling to take this lion down with me for killing my family. I wake myself up.

My side hurts tremendously from where I dreamt the lion took a huge bite out of me. I mentally shake off the dream and go back to sleep. Then, I am walking in a field with friends. We are laughing about something, but I have that feeling. The feeling something is behind you, and it's trouble. I simultaneously shove my friends into a little dip in the woods and turn around to fight the lion I know is there. This time, I kick said lion's butt. Of course, this time I only have a tree branch that I am frantically beating it with. I (gore coming...) finally stab my lethal tree branch through its exposed heart (I warned you) and turn to look for my friends. But I had accidentally missed the fact that while I was killing my lion, its friends were eating my friends. I wake myself up.

I shake it off, fall back to sleep and am in Fiji walking in the waves. Ah. It's dusk and I am sublimely happy. I sit in the waves and just watch the sun go under the horizon and just when it does, a lion eats me. It hurt a lot. I woke up. I sense a trend. Why am I dreaming about lions killing my loved ones and myself??