tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12541715364245180662024-02-18T23:51:59.002-05:00Burning HermesRaineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-29282439916647095192012-09-25T18:27:00.001-04:002012-09-25T18:29:14.774-04:00Ghosts AgainYet another dream of exorcism. These happen frequently, though I don't always write about them. In this dream it was in a new-to-us home, that we had to move into. It was haunted by the ghost of an Irish bartender (farmer? can't remember).
<p>Attempts to remove any spirit by force usually don't work. They leave me weakened, or if I do succeed, left with a feeling of guilt. Instead: embracing the spirit, sending it love often has the best effect, albeit not always quickly. The icy touch of the spirit world is thrilling yet harrowing. Something within your soul is moved.
<p>The final transformational moments before the spirit departs are quite moving. It is a very emotional process for everyone involved. I can't quite describe it, except as that moment in a movie where you've been rooting for a character the whole film and they finally have a breakthrough.
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Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-53324994591059499692012-09-22T10:40:00.000-04:002012-09-22T10:41:09.305-04:00Equinox 2012 MiamiAh its the equinox. Time for dreams. I hurt my back and have been very restless. I am trying to write this on my back. I am struggling with having to stay in bed.
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<p>Dream 1
I'm on an island that is set up very much like Jurassic Park... only there is a whole city of people living on it. At this time we are attempting to integrate the dinosaurs into daily living. And I mean that in the sense that they are becoming part of society... like int that tv show Dinosaurs, only less silly.
<br>
Cue scene with the frilled dinosaurs and the guy who gets spit in the face and then eaten on the stormy night. It's stormy here in Miami.
<br>In this dream I'm fed up with my job. I have a sleek, low riding, convertible black car and I'm stuck in traffic at the end of the day in a parking garage. A crazy moment comes over me. I pull the car out of traffic and race sideways across the garage; hit a a water pipe and crack it and then slam through the side of the parking garage and out into the air...
Next I'm in a a mall second floor. More elements of authority conflict and doing crazy things outside society norms then GTFO. Security, cops etc are all on m' ass.
<br>I manage to get to secure place. Well, its peaceful and far from the city. A rural homestead where I feel safe and comfortable. I pull in at night, crawl out of my car and sleep on the grass. (I am sleeping on the floor these days) There are two houses here, one is more of a cabin but has a wrap around porch.
<br> The next portion of the dream involves interactions with a young friend in an idyllic setting, only to have the "big bad" authority figure show up - knowing who I am and what I've done. I am subtly called out, then tricked into a corner where I must either admit guilt or blame someone I care about.
<br>In the end, youth alcohol consumption and all, things turn out well. Somehow the authority figure has a heart of gold and lets us be.
<p>Dream 2
<br>Many interactions with friends. Secret love, unrequited, when you are in a relationship with another. How often this comes up as a theme. How much feeling returned and honesty with words does harm? Mostly running around a neutral yard as a setting.
<p>Dream 3
<br>Lana is waiting for a friend to come back - she left a jacket in their vehicle. But this vehicle is a spaceship! I am coming along to meet and I am so very excited. In a jungle grove we wait, and the actinic blue-white light of its thrusters throws everything into harsh relief. When it lands Lana opens a door and grabs out a bright orange vest and puts it on. (Its the one Marty wears in Back to the Future)
<br> The pilot is more robot than life form. I give it a jar of some food, like sesame tahini or peanut butter - which it bites off the bottom of before I explain that the contents are edible, not the whole thing.
<p>Gets me thinking that when we make contact with alien life - what will we do if it looks just like us?
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Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-71498599371648493522012-03-04T12:28:00.003-05:002012-03-04T12:29:41.537-05:00Snow, Kittens, and Storms<p>1. It's a snowy day. I'm following a navy blue pickup truck and I'm driving a maroon and sporty Saturn (yeah, I know there really aren't sporty Saturns, but its a dream). The pickup has a piece of caution tape trailing off from a tie-down in the bed and I lazily reach out and grab it, thinking to pull it off, but it causes the truck to skid off the road to one side. I let go and it rides back on. I grab it again and the same effect. I'm concerned for their safety but also fascinated by the phenomenon, and I want to pull off the tape so they don't get caught on anything else. The next grab though, causes us both to spin out, them to the left, and myself to the right both into the snowbanks on the side of the road. This is on a little New England green reminiscent of my home town.
<p>I dig my little car out of the snow and physically pick it up and put it on the road. In my mind Saturns are made of plastic and very light apparently. The pickup has four guys in it, some of mixed Native American blood, and there is a police officer pulling them over. He gets them all out and starts checking the truck for drugs. It's totally bogus, but you know he is looking for any excuse to arrest one or all of them. He does find a random excuse to bust them. I'm watching all this from another point of view and the dream ends.
<p>2. Kittens. A mother long hair tortoise-shell is playing with each of her two kittens. They are rolling around in the mossy undergrowth. It is very cute.
<p>3. A storm is rolling in, and everyone is very frightened. I am in my dad's garage, in the woodshop making something. Up in the rafters mice run around; the tortoise-shell cat is stalking. Thunder rumbles and vibrates the walls. The wind picks up and I move out of the garage to join friends and family in the house. There is a tension in the air - an anticipation of something. [reminds me of another dream where the sky opened up and space ships landed, or another with the coming of the apocalypse.]Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-57427528851471581392012-01-11T13:12:00.000-05:002012-03-04T12:30:04.402-05:00Science, Violence, KittensVisiting an island research station where they need a certified diver with confined spaces to inspect intake pipes. I am talking to the woman in charge on a boulder-strewn shore. The sun is setting and the stone looks black against the orange sky. Inside is a team of young men and women scientists I know. W-- is among them, or at least the dream equivalent of W--. The second floor has the center cut out to look down balcony-like to the first floor. I am hanging out of there looking across to a table where they are all seated. W-- approaches and says she misses me.
<p>
transition
<p>
I am taking on a job/mission and must go. On another vessel (which resembles an old riverboat), this one with another cast of familiar characters. The mood is like a party, like a Labor Day barbeque / cruise. Half is family and half is graduated colleagues of mine. Mr. C-- is hitting up the booze and getting himself into trouble when he takes money from a classmate, digitally via the friend's phone. Which stars off on a hide-and-seek/ chase over the boat, in the stalls (where the friend's clothing and things were & where C-- got the phone), and over the docks.
<p>
Back on the boat I meet the family daughter and bump into W-- and other women I know. They are also on a mission - but counter to my own! Some secret lab/place in the nearby wood where the boat is docked. Compelled a brunette tosses a puppy (brown dachshund) towards the canopy - which tries to get in to the lab - hidden - and with a glass elevator. I leap over the side to get the puppy. There's a ladder and I reprimand the woman (now hanging upside down from the boat railing) "What were you thinking?!" I collect the puppy and her, go inside and make an awkward farewell.
<p>
transition
<p>
Next mission in North Hill Country. I pull up in a motorcycle at a very nice white farmhouse, the kind with money. Park my motorcycle with the puppy. Inside is a red-brunette haired woman at a set, and elegant dark wood dining table sipping wine. On the table is a thin long sword.
<p>
A game of two cats begins between us. I am here to kill her. Slay may be more apropos as there is a dangerous air about her. We exchange sharp words, malevolence beneath civility. I am unarmed and so grab a goblet and break it for an object of sharp glass and turn it on her. The fight is fierce, tentative, and surprisingly brief as I slash, get the upper hand, and position, pin her and grab her hair in one hand, the sword in another. The tip is poised over her heart prepared to plunge. My heart is beating hard in my chest and throat. I start the thrust and she shrieks, NO!
<p>
There is a still moment. I hesitate. I cannot end her life. I turn away the sword, and hair already firmly in hand, I kiss her passionately. Which is surprisingly returned and just as fierce. Adrenaline rush.
<p>
I let her up and walk out - mission unaccomplished. But I do pick up a kitten, white with grey patches, and leave.
<p>
The kitten runs in another part of the farmhouse I have a weird & silly exchange of a family's baby for the kitten. I point in the window at the kitten, they come to the door with a baby in footy pajamas... I shake my head and point around the corner to the kitten scampering up their stairs.
<p>
I attempt to leave again. The rest is a silly attempt to ride a motorcycle with a puppy and kitten.
<p>
I get turned around, ask for directions from an older woman in a red pickup - one of those with the high wooden sides. I meet a black man and his family as I turn back around in his driveway. We talk motorcycles for a while and he shows me his garage - which the kitten escapes into and is frantically chasing mice, all tiny claws and teeth. She manages to catch a baby bunny - hurting but not killing it. Finally I catch the kitten and the dream ends with me settling kitten and dachshund on the bike.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-24624050033728491182012-01-10T12:08:00.000-05:002012-02-03T13:20:55.707-05:00Persecution, Judgment, Attack, Shame1) Meeting with all of my professors but having nothing to show. Like a preliminary defense, but with nothing substantive to defend.
<p>
2)Argument with a man. We're in a university A big hall.Cheerlieading try-outs. Parking garage. A fight breaks out but he grabs me - literally - by the balls. I feel violated, outraged, ion pain, and helpless. I also seem to be wearing flimsy jogging shorts. I cannot shake him or fend him off. Every new attack is met with same as I try to get the upper hand.
<p>
3)I am visiting with L-- and family. Awkward family moments... they don't know that he two of us have broken up. S-- looks sad. I talk to her hoping to cheer her up; ask if she wants to go for a ride, a journey. Her response is happy and then unexpected.
<p>
We are in a living room. I'm on an air mattress - she on the couch - and she's then clinging to me, saying "you <i>do</i> love me" and she forces kisses on me... which is all very excitijng but I'm freaking out: 1) because we're in the living room and 2) because this would wreck both our relationships to L--. I try to get away, push her away - but she'd got her hand down my pants and L-- is right there hearing it all. We're toast. S-- is rejected and L-- is pissed.
<p>
No win.
<p>
Also of note, S-- is wearing a red ribbon. She is almost Nordic blonde and reminds me of [a friend]. The ribbon is the scarlet letter of the dream: a symbolic accusation of betrayal. S-- had the red ribbon like a sash draped over her shoulders. L-- was wearing a maroon scrunchie, which she threw at me.
<p>
I felt very judged, and guilty in some sense. but revealing of hidden emotion is exciting - and has consequences.
<p>
We carry our judgements into our dreams.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-19773374211624632342012-01-06T09:45:00.000-05:002012-01-06T09:45:49.255-05:00On Stage Again<p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIJEjRsMQyYn58WKZLkbATpI050biyYiIQgUyPiDACC76Dyi6-0fFPP0-DaGLk-9sXBPxFC4yB3QlnPS04QXJ58aqZfSGC1hNhk4d84AEaafb4QSpWyUf4n567lu0ONFpVHJGCiJd4fq6v/s1600/Sun+Inn+Christmas+Eve+2011.jpg"><img style="margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIJEjRsMQyYn58WKZLkbATpI050biyYiIQgUyPiDACC76Dyi6-0fFPP0-DaGLk-9sXBPxFC4yB3QlnPS04QXJ58aqZfSGC1hNhk4d84AEaafb4QSpWyUf4n567lu0ONFpVHJGCiJd4fq6v/s400/Sun+Inn+Christmas+Eve+2011.jpg" alt="" id="Sun Inn Christmas Eve 2011" border="0" /></a></p><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Dream, January 2, 2012</span><br />A wonderful wooden set, circa mid to late 1970s. Performing a play about a royal family - Hamlet? But I have absolutely <span style="font-style:italic;">no</span> knowledge of my lines or any plot and we're opening tonight, as in <span style="font-weight:bold;">Now!</span> and I'm in scene one and I don't even have my costume on.<br /><p>No pleas or stalling: You're on!<br /></p><p>Desperately pulling on my costume over my clothes and with my pants halfway up the curtains open: and I disappoint everyone.</p>Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-40839894640279493082011-11-19T13:47:00.000-05:002012-01-06T10:05:25.766-05:00Victorian Stage - Ideological Confrontation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikXFw_S4SmvQgyUZ14HgcET5aOtpioz8wLtgZlCzkrp1uTGrayiTAzVTWO4_-cQOmKcO7O58sgqrD7Cs4vU3CQ2VkMrFfk9QTRn-_nly0JNiZv26BvXGZfSPhvjfOZaSYiLEdEW3aiaNYj/s1600/callery+lights.jpg"><img style="margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikXFw_S4SmvQgyUZ14HgcET5aOtpioz8wLtgZlCzkrp1uTGrayiTAzVTWO4_-cQOmKcO7O58sgqrD7Cs4vU3CQ2VkMrFfk9QTRn-_nly0JNiZv26BvXGZfSPhvjfOZaSYiLEdEW3aiaNYj/s400/callery+lights.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676735296025321522" /></a><br /><br /><br />
<p><i>Dreams 11/13</i><br /><br />Stage theatre production in a Victorian building hosted by my friends.<br /><br />Swordfight between two men in black robes and red vestments. Of eastern origin. It is an ideological confrontation, a difference in philosophy. One man is killed, my grandfather. Some significance of antlers and my disrespect: laughing at their assembly. Emergency flight tickets home for the funeral, but I miss it having read my email too late.<br /><br />I must fight the last man and we brutalize each other, but do not kill. Nunchaku to bludgeon. Still, when the fight is over and the man leaves we say "Shalom" to each other and part not as enemies, still at odds.<br /><br />So many dogs of all breeds and sizes running loose in the hayfields with cows. The dogs must come in, there is a rabid cow in the field. I call their names and bring all the dogs in the house. Fifteen or so. Cats come in too, as if all animals are responding to my call.<br /><br />I lament missing my flight and I order a coffee at a bed and breakfast in New Hampshire (Vermont? It's always snowing or has snowed in my dreams of Vermont.) There is some trick to making this special brew of coffee and I chat with the barista and owner. She reminds me a bit of S. at the general store in N. Montpelier.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-3140189875667107342011-11-04T10:12:00.000-04:002011-11-19T11:59:47.993-05:00Cienz + Dezine<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/b3qbVrZCNF" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right;margin-bottom:1em;margin-left:1em"><img style="float:left; img border=" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ci6moGBq8v4/TrPynyL3AAI/AAAAAAAAAHU/6LfNF0QtFWY/s512/P1260599.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I'm still committed to the creative process. Presently I'm still taking lots of photos, but haven't done much sorting. I'm also ramping up my efforts on my master's thesis which looks at the dialogue between science and designers, and the tools/methodologies available for positively influencing the ecosystem of urban rivers. More to come on that I'm sure.<br /><br />In other news <a href="http://www.koboldquarterly.com/k/midgard">MIDGARD</a> is making headway! It's very exciting to sit behind the scenes in this design process and be able to contribute my two cents along the way. I only wish I wasn't in school for this, because I would be all over it otherwise. Right now I'm balancing sleep, meals, and writing. I'm proud of myself though. I'm taking little steps forward towards rekindling that creative fire.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-27040658676962615832011-10-24T11:00:00.000-04:002011-10-24T11:06:00.599-04:00New Post!Okay, I've been struggling with life, depression, etc. And I really want a place to write again, and post creative stuff. I'm trying to consolidate my internet schizm'd personalities. I don't want to abandon that side of me which creates and shelve it away while I finish grad school. To that end, I am using this (I hope) as my blog space and not worrying about the rest. I can have links, and the rest can be archived for posterity. Or to check up on. I'd like to return from my internet hiatus. Too much internet soul-vacuum time.<br /><br />To put it bluntly "Get up off your ass and create something." It's sound advice. I'm not at the Make Something Cool Everyday level, but it's something to work towards.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-16940693149515869512010-08-10T10:30:00.000-04:002012-01-18T22:56:35.402-05:00The Man Who Was FireproofA dream last night.
<p>
"Hawaii," 1960s or 1970s.
<p>
I was someone else. Civilian working on a military base. The only reason I can think its the late 60s or 70s is the facial hair and clothes. Big mustaches, big glasses and sunglasses.
<p>
Emergency. Volcanic eruption. I or rather this man that I was, in the midst of chaos of evacuees walks towards the heat. Fires that I touch go out, and I remember it being very peaceful. People rush past me, some covered in ashes as I move towards the nascent volcano on the coast. Burning cloth and straw thatch wink out, the fires not so much extinguished as just gone.
<p>
As I approach the cone I feel afraid. Firefighters are hosing the landward side trying to harden the 'a'a flow and direct it out towards the ocean. I walk up the side of the mounding cone. My shoes melt, and I try to keep myself from sinking in the hot, hot rock as the sun is setting. That would be the end of me. The rock cools where I stand, still hot enough to burn, hot enough to turn the rubber of my shoes to goo, but cool enough to walk on. The sun is just about gone as I reach the summit, and the stars shine overhead. My heart is shaking, but the fires cool as I stand on the mount. The firetrucks have left now.
<p>
The next day I wander back to the base. People are celebrating. The firefighters and some of the military command are getting the accolades. I'm ash covered and tired, and I see some of my friends at the base, also scientists and civilians rushing over. They are surprised to see me alive since I had disappeared yesterday. One guy has me around the shoulders and asks someone to take a picture of us, saying that this could be 30 years from now. Bewildered I ask what he's talking about and he leads me to a mirror. My hair is streaked with grey and not from the ash, it has actually turned grey in many places from its normal dark brown.
<p>
(this is also where I can see that its not me in the dream, as I don't look like this guy, nor could I sport a mustache so full.)
<p>
Last part of the dream I stalk into the mess hall and make my way to the kitchen and I brush past indignant brass that's getting all the praise for their heroism. I pour myself a stiff drink.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-66832746794292653842010-07-15T10:15:00.000-04:002012-01-18T22:56:52.997-05:00Filmed On Location in Archetypal CitiesOnce again,
<p>
The insider, the rebel. Oppressive totalitarian government. A city on the coast, built upon the ruins of former civilizations. Part of the city has become a prison. I am inside this prison with my family. In appearance, it is part Providence, part Mykonos, Greece... only there's technology enough to support Giant Robots. (too much anime)
<p>
The themes have been played before... resist the oppressive authority, secretly aid resistance groups, stealthily escape from the city, dramatically escape from the city.
<p>
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Thirty-Six_Dramatic_Situations
<p>
So, what is the meaning in my dreams? I haven't kept a dream journal since I filled my last one. I'm thinking I should remedy that.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-12412190058412328282010-04-20T10:30:00.000-04:002012-01-18T22:16:28.472-05:00A Walk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://i20.photobucket.com/albums/b201/Raineach/spookywoods.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="360" width="360" src="http://i20.photobucket.com/albums/b201/Raineach/spookywoods.jpg" /></a></div>Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-46737807710602434292010-04-10T09:30:00.000-04:002012-01-18T22:57:12.655-05:00Good morning internets. Pics & work habits.Sometimes I forget about this here internet thing. What with real life and all. My social networking skills (read: obsession) are falling by the wayside. But I still have awesome dreams and I still take great digital photos... If I can ever remember to post it on the internet that would be swell. I only seem to remember at the beginning of the month when my flickr account has been refreshed, and I realized I just lost a month's worth of potential storage. Then I don't upload anything out of frustration and the cycle continues. Now I stare at a multi-GB backload of photos and procrastinate uploading them in favor of work.
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Which I also don't want to do. I was speaking with M. last night, and told her of my terrible habit. When I'm overloaded with stress, instead of doing something for myself that would relax me or be fun, I say "oh, I have work to do, I cannot possibly take time away to have fun." But then I don't end up doing the work anyway, and I feel I've wasted the day or evening. I could have at least enjoyed myself and not done the work. I'd have ended up in the same place but feeling better.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-88556892349107584702010-03-21T22:00:00.000-04:002012-01-18T22:04:32.484-05:00garlic, my loveSoup:
2 cups chicken stock
2 cups water
1/2 mediumm onion
3 cloves garlic
4 crimini mushrooms
1 small sweet potato
2 harvest gold local farmers market potatoes
1 parsnip
1 carrot
1 1/2 cups lentils
3 leaves kale
shredded mozzarella
sage
rosemary
cumin
salt
pepper
The Cars Greatest Hits
High Note 2008 'elevated' Malbec
Sourdough loaf
= so good.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-16521332430787018812010-03-14T05:00:00.000-04:002012-01-18T22:57:35.094-05:00In the MountainsDreamed I was in the mountains, snow snow everywhere. Not like here in Rhode Island. There's just wind and rain. Winter settles-in in my dreams even though I haven't lived in Vermont for almost three years.
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And such wind. Its a Rhode Island commodity. We could export it. On the plus side it's good for sailing if its not too fierce.
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I realized in the small hours of this morning that I haven't been writing to the void because I haven't been alone in a while. I used to write more when I was lonely. I suppose its not a bad thing, to not be lonely. I had grown so used to it. In some ways I enjoyed my solitude, but I am discovering that you don't always have to do things on your own, despite the American value of self-reliance. Its a value that I adhered fiercely to, and I'm trying to give it up.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-61914169762430348492010-01-19T20:30:00.000-05:002012-01-18T22:57:54.858-05:00Hello New Year. Hello Blog.It's been a long time since I've typed anything into livejournal. The last six months I pretty much abandoned most of my internet haunts. I spread myself too thin, and then last semester was a beast. Excuses, excuses.
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There was a time when writing was almost as frequent as breathing. I've missed it. I've developed a dislike for reading on a computer screen though. Two things have convinced me to return to LJ. First, I've read three books in the four weeks I've been off from school. Nothing of consequence, but man, I really missed the paperback. I'm starting in on a fourth already. Second has been my application to Harvard. Between fabulous new vocabulary for the GRE and writing and rewriting my essay, I remembered why I used to write in the first place.
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I am quite rusty though. I'd like to be able to hone up my fiction skills again, to where they were, and beyond. This is my final semester of college though, pending grad school acceptance or not, and I'm going to dedicate myself to making it count. So I'll journal when and where I can. But no more multiple online journals. The thought of chronicling my life in several places became daunting, so I just quit altogether except to one-line journal my life through facebook. It's more satisfying than speaking to the anonymous internet. Friends and family who care to keep up see daily the minutiae of my life.
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So, life. The most consequential event of the unchronicled past is that I'm dating again. Which has had its ups and downs, but overall has been quite nice. Another bit about LJ that I've avoided is being completely candid. I fear that if I speak the complete truth that someone I know will read about it and get back to me with phantom judgments. Perhaps its an irrational fear, and that's the little "lock" entry mode's purpose. I'm going to start writing my dreams again in as vivid detail as I care to elaborate. I just hope it doesn't sound like some trashy sci-fi novella.
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Last bit for tonight: I am having reservations about the upcoming job for the Navy. I was adamantly against it when I was first offered the position, and then I figured that it would be a different challenge to take on something outside of my normal comfort zone. Now I'm wondering if I should have listened to my initial gut reaction. Time will tell how this little story will play out.
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I lied, one more. Communication has been tricky-iffy-WTF. Some is my fault, but I see it universally around me. My apologies to those who I care about deeply and have left in the dark, though most of you won't be reading this anyway. And those with whom I have deliberately severed ties will just have to deal with it. I can't be nice to everyone anymore. I fear that I'm being an asshole. Still, in the end, it will only matter to me, and I couldn't handle taking on everything anymore. This semester will be a test of how well I learned my lessons last semester.
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I've stopped with the caffeine too. I was drinking so much tea during projects last semester the chemicals were getting to me. It's decaf from now on.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-1368606990844658592009-11-08T14:17:00.000-05:002012-01-18T22:58:33.747-05:00Slave to the ComputerWhy should we continue to invent new technology? I demand to know, when increasingly we are it's slaves. We are fooled into serving it. It's great lie, is that it will free us. More and more we create that which is supposed to grant us more time. What it allows, is for more to be done in less time.
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The cruel paradox is thus: We are expected to do more in less time. We are held accountable to these great expectations by employers, teachers. We're doing it to ourselves, the technology itself does not inherently demand more from us. And the time that is left? We are expected to continue to put in as much as we had before. Which means we are producing much more in the same amount of time, but we are being sorely taxed for it. The human mind and body was not meant to multitask as much as we are being asked. The mind focuses on one task at a time. Our neural pathways don't cross wire mid-task.
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What are the total societal consequences of such a pervasive mentality?
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Mental break-down, stress, depression, anxiety, sickness, violence, suicide.
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This adds up to a huge monetary and humanitarian toll on our society. Is it worth it?Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-31181440258899623222009-07-10T09:09:00.001-04:002012-01-06T10:06:05.539-05:00Utility Work in Hell<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFUpKMNQb4BUK1vb6sXuE8n3pb7GjW_-qBD1X-6dPmImdoJ1hiRHge3oAoYo1Zv5JWiYN79_lb8z24O8ZsORpkErWpdfHurHN4i_QQi2iSEsPpUO-VF39VQqrREtj4Xg7p_PuSP2XaxrdN/s1600-h/hell+utilities.jpg"><img style="margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 319px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFUpKMNQb4BUK1vb6sXuE8n3pb7GjW_-qBD1X-6dPmImdoJ1hiRHge3oAoYo1Zv5JWiYN79_lb8z24O8ZsORpkErWpdfHurHN4i_QQi2iSEsPpUO-VF39VQqrREtj4Xg7p_PuSP2XaxrdN/s400/hell+utilities.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356862519925077522" /></a><br /><br /><br /><p><i>Dreams... again.</i><br /><br />A serpent queen, regal in white cloth. A hall, or palace in golds and browns with a feel of a Mediterranean climate. She see through deception, calmly and without malice she meets out justice.<br />--<br />Venomous snakes guard the entry to a cave or tunnel. I wish to pass without disturbing them, but I cannot and I am bitten. I kill one trying to pry it from my hand, and I am sad for the loss and damage that I have caused. The world is underwater... sand cool sea green and rough brown cave wall.<br />--<br />I'm in the employ of an adventuring company, trying to set up a portal in a layer of Hell but I'm all out of balloons. I feel daring enough to walk around here, the denizens occupy other parts, and I spot a friend of mine doing line work near a pit of fiery tentacles. (Hell is high tech these days.) We chat for a bit and then I see a Moloch coming this way and I have to run.<br /><br />I'm in a corridor in one of the less classically looking parts of Hell now. That is to say, not all towering gothic architecture and fiery skies and pits of lava. This is cool white-grey walls and stainless steel. LCD panels line the walls in 8" squares, occasionally displaying video of the dystopian society that lives here... mind control and totalitarian government state. Herringbone like off to the sides of this hall are rooms full of people. They are here waiting, anxiously and frustrated and some angry. They all know they are waiting for something important, but none of them can really say what it is. Just crowded isolation, none of them really paying attention to anyone else.<br /><br />--Hell is other people.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-35823194275536068602009-06-04T09:45:00.000-04:002009-06-04T09:56:30.319-04:00Like a Lion<img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/1/17/HansomeLion_002.jpg/800px-HansomeLion_002.jpg" width="400" /><br />Last night, among other things, I dreamed of lions. They seem to be making their way into my life. I see their corded muscle bodies and feel the coarse fur. There's a danger and a mystery and a power to them.<br />Another less clear reference in the dream, was a Victorian house in Vermont where a lion personality lived that has since disappeared from my life.<br /><br />Monday I visited Newport with my sister, and I commented at all the lions at the gates. I always wanted lions at the entrance to my home, even if I don't have a massive mansion overflowing with old wealth. They were present throughout my childhood in CT, a symbol in many places, and I even drew lion-headed fountains into my imaginary world.<br /><br />And this morning, to bring back the memory of this dream that I had forgotten upon my waking, I tune into NPR and Garrison Keiler's deep rich voice reading the poetry of the day, "Aperture" by Gary Short, just at the moment of the mouse lying still before the cat, and the reference to Livingston and his experience in the jaws of a lion.<br /><br /><br />In the African journals, Livingston tells<br />of the charging lion that knocked him down.<br />When he was held in the lion's mouth,<br />the human body's trance-like response<br />was to go limp in an ecstatic giving up<br />that saved. To assume death<br /><br />to stay alive.<br /><br /><br />Do these symbols have meaning in my life? We are not yet upon Leo's time. But the solstice approaches and the Lion of Summer will be here soon. I will have to think more on Lions today.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-24104025730326660312009-05-06T21:15:00.000-04:002009-05-06T21:17:36.199-04:00Mental Meanderings<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkmYmfaYeRWchics5r0S-6vO6w_FJgD6gcoZmO-wXWzNOF4EBaH-jR_xYoj6CIcw8mb32MhjnQOq9G9-5O3FUKiB_QCuOsuNamVhS7kdffQGVNXiNFf3eLJxJXtPpEN9LjwWeaKahRTCyg/s1600-h/P1040235.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkmYmfaYeRWchics5r0S-6vO6w_FJgD6gcoZmO-wXWzNOF4EBaH-jR_xYoj6CIcw8mb32MhjnQOq9G9-5O3FUKiB_QCuOsuNamVhS7kdffQGVNXiNFf3eLJxJXtPpEN9LjwWeaKahRTCyg/s400/P1040235.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332884927659700706" border="0" /></a><br />Stuck in my own<br /> philosophical<br /> ontological paradox.<br /><br />What is in your head?<br />How do I share that which is in my own head?<br />All this social programming<br />keeps us<br />from reaching inside ourselves and into each other,<br />to stroke those waveform thoughts which make us unique.<br /><br />It's semi-lucid, an arabesque of meaning and summation.<br />There is no<br />road map<br />to these stars<br />within our heads,<br />a great inky sheet strewn with sparkling diamonds.<br /><br />And within each a burst of colors and light!<br />How can we share this?<br />Touch,<br />explore,<br />feel<br />with all our senses these little<br />dream-windows<br />into a grander scale of universe?<br /><br />And here I ramble on in impotent language<br />writhing like a clutch of newborn garter snakes in spring<br />moving towards intangible heat.<br /><br />Stillness comes at times, but more so<br />is the liquid movement<br />of life<br />in a sea of green and gold and azure.<br /><br />Everyday swimming<br />in the glittering sea of living things,<br />infused with the sweet scents and pheromones<br />of urges<br />and desires<br />and dreams.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-4778401475024364982009-04-18T18:08:00.000-04:002012-01-06T10:06:31.953-05:00Todays Mission: Failed<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HQGTdzKHd2fVeLkchmdBZQ557xI3vuFuA6JX7mV3ZAtPev1C1a0UMg_Sw52nHex6sEpCaJDlP15xJ_iO6gUKAtqUkcmU6kfbLINj7IHyjaKyxsABX2AMMLEvot5w2uYdrHV-2EJfhq7i/s1600-h/P1040141.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5HQGTdzKHd2fVeLkchmdBZQ557xI3vuFuA6JX7mV3ZAtPev1C1a0UMg_Sw52nHex6sEpCaJDlP15xJ_iO6gUKAtqUkcmU6kfbLINj7IHyjaKyxsABX2AMMLEvot5w2uYdrHV-2EJfhq7i/s400/P1040141.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326157173257334690" border="0" /></a><br /><p><br /><p><br /><br /><p>Take note: spring rolls are neither samosas nor burritos. Also I need a more elegant way preparing Chinese vermicelli. Using scissors was a bit embarrassing.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-14880862395179719812009-04-08T07:51:00.000-04:002009-04-08T07:56:01.534-04:00Moon Bright<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/29207371@N04/3068844157/" title="Moon in the sky by Raineach, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3056/3068844157_3b9f43d243.jpg" alt="Moon in the sky" width="500" height="375" /></a><br />(Feb 2008 pic)<br /><br />Full Moon today. My dreams were troubled last night. Losing my teeth again. Ugh. I dislike that theme immensely, but interestingly enough it's happened so often in the dream world that I recognize it as something familiar there. One common thing lately is my family's presence there. I do not dream about them often, and now almost every night for a week. Maybe it's my anticipation of seeing them for Easter.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-60865167043244223332009-04-07T09:18:00.000-04:002012-01-06T10:07:01.800-05:00Bloom<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp7gYWszQq7pnoa82IHl6UVL65rfVHp9isA-LQTodtpDMCVASP_GSGreptXi7nlbrxP0QWTBpJ32zBK1VsxldAEZ1bV0oMEcHOAwVEIOigCTpZa4GVoTUCUKii7gauORFKy1zzJy9f9i7B/s1600-h/P1040092.JPG"><img style="margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp7gYWszQq7pnoa82IHl6UVL65rfVHp9isA-LQTodtpDMCVASP_GSGreptXi7nlbrxP0QWTBpJ32zBK1VsxldAEZ1bV0oMEcHOAwVEIOigCTpZa4GVoTUCUKii7gauORFKy1zzJy9f9i7B/s400/P1040092.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321939738562613922" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The Magnolias are opening, and even the rain cannot dampen their spirits, though some of their petals may brown. Their scent is <span style="font-style: italic;">heavenly</span>.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-12519747169334384952009-04-04T22:38:00.000-04:002009-04-04T22:52:54.865-04:00Wars across boundaries of time and space.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy0Un3M-m2ZdqfxD9DFjTmYhtAJPtAYr_aDk5Asbmf10iIUo6Sd0jrc2t4Zmai94WF2PXO-T17JpI8sM9ggqLGgNj41dqj6m4mdwE32XQTCN2eB5mIJrP9ES7-crEm36uH3xWoH48mRWYX/s1600-h/My+First+Planet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy0Un3M-m2ZdqfxD9DFjTmYhtAJPtAYr_aDk5Asbmf10iIUo6Sd0jrc2t4Zmai94WF2PXO-T17JpI8sM9ggqLGgNj41dqj6m4mdwE32XQTCN2eB5mIJrP9ES7-crEm36uH3xWoH48mRWYX/s320/My+First+Planet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321031587339919186" border="0" /></a>I have been high and low. Right now I am feeling pretty low. Really lonely. Anyways.<br /><br />4/1:<br />I am in Europe moving between borders. There is a Man and myself and a lady friend, we are trying to avoid being shot or bombed while looking for food and water. The people are poor and wear tattered grays and browns. I am of some mixed race, they keep calling me the "Mexican." We hide out in a safe house, little more than walls and a few windows. There is one wooden table, and a hand crank turntable/phonograph. Soldiers arrive. We can't escape before they storm inside. A couple of us climb out a bathroom window, but its too late. In some kind of time warping event, mechanical soldiers, (torsos and treads) run us down.<br /><br />There are more advanced and streamlined soldiers too. Those that were created to fight the previous incarnations of genetically modified supersoldiers gone rogue. There is one of these men in particular that cannot be stopped. He crouches in the deep pine forest, then jumps through dimensions and time streams to confront the consortium of overlords that plays with lives like a game. In their bubble like command center they feel invincible. But it is end game for them.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1254171536424518066.post-14036670584896098852009-03-26T20:09:00.001-04:002009-03-26T20:11:37.107-04:00To Rule a Kingdom, To Rule a ChildLast night I dreamed I was an emperor. The kingdom was foggy, bleak black and green. My child was a princess that did not wish to marry, and I was a strict man compelled by the duties of my position and the weight of my ancestors.Raineachhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16983547342425907242noreply@blogger.com0