Bad Dreams and Interesting Times

I had the most detailed and disquieting dream I can remember having for a long time last night. When I remember dreams, which is rare to begin with, it's generally in bits and pieces. Or they are are the rare brief and intense nightmare that I fly awake from in a panic. This was less acutely intense, but perhaps longer lasting.

The narrative was immediately post-apocalyptic. I'm not clear about what caused it, but long-distance communication was down, which meant that cell phones, land lines, debit cards, and similar would not work. There was electricity for the moment, but it would soon be gone. I was in Kenosha with most of my family and loved ones. Danae was there, but Lisa was not; she was somewhere to the west, maybe in Madison. I was deeply worried about her, but didn't know how to ensure she was ok.

I drove my car somewhere nearby, maybe to Racine (the next town north) to get to people and bring them back. On the way, I saw a couple of cows who had gotten loose from their pasture wandering at the side of the road, but few people. Eventually, a group of us was together and we managed to get to where Lisa was somehow. Or maybe it was just me going to get her with the plan of bringing her back; I'm not sure now. She was living in an upper floor of a building; climbing a rope was necessary to get to her living space. I was explaining that we had a wagon (I'm not sure how we were propelling it) and were going south, but she seemed hesitant to come with.

I'm sure I see the connection between some of these things and recent events. My feelings of isolation and distance here. My going to Naomi Klein's talk and thinking of the consequences of climate change and peak oil. When I was a socially incompetent elementary school kid who had no interest in real world events and was happy to be entirely absorbed into an array of fantasy worlds, I thought it would be great to be alive at a crisis point in history. To be able to live through something vast and exciting, seeing it play out in front of me or even becoming a part of it, like an adventure I might have in one of those fantasy worlds. Now, all things being equal, I'd far rather be living in a modern global equivalent of the Pax Romana; a period of peace and calm in which to pursue individual and public goods. (Not, I realize, that the Pax Romana was so simple or so quiet as all of that.) I wasn't convinced, back then, that "May you live in interesting times" was really the curse that it was claimed to be. At this point in my life, I no longer doubt it.

The New Occupant of my Apartment

My poli-sci prof said my paper idea was too broad and abstract. I spent a while trying to narrow it down and ground it and have sent another outline of my ideas over, so it's time for a little break before tackling other stuff.

I have no idea where to buy houseplants. There's a florist nearby where things seemed expensive and limited, and a nursery inconveniently far away. I did some Googling and realized that I could buy plants at big hardware stores in the garden section. I don't know why that didn't occur to me.

I biked to the local Lowe's about 2 miles away, and looked for a a spider plant. (It turns out that my mother's didn't make it through this past winter.) They didn't have any, but as I circled the display of hanging potted plants, another customer asked me what I was looking for. We talked, and she suggested another of the array of baskets. I looked the plant over. Its two-tone leaves and dangling vines were appealing. It sounded easy enough to take care of. So I now share my apartment with a Hoya carnosa variegata, which is living directly in front of my window in it's little three-quart basket.

I don't have pictures of it in its new home yet, but I *had* to take a few of it bungeed onto my bike for it's trip home. The customer I'd talked to saw me in the lot and offered a bag to put over it on the journey, but that seemed both unnecessary, and unlikely to stay in place. I don't go *that* fast on this thing. Regardless, I love it when helpful people are randomly helpful. She seemed almost apologetic to interrupt, but I told her that, as a complete novice, I appreciated her advice.





The view that anybody behind me got to enjoy is behind ( the cut. )

Pizza Fail

Well, crap.





Plus I burned myself slightly while trying to rescue it.