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I don't know if this is because sleep and my overly vivid dreams are what I feel comfortable writing about when compared to other things, or what. I guess it doesn't matter, because at least I'm writing here again.

Last night was a ripe example of "Generic Armchair Dream Interpretation 101." First I dreamt about work, which was mostly my subconscious trying to process through some of yesterday's events and the anxiety and uncertainty I felt around it. After processing through it by dreaming about the office, my subconscious decided to show it off in full Technicolor glory by changing to a different dream entirely.

In the second dream I was back at high school. Before you ask, yes, I was wearing pants. I'm not sure if I was appropriately aged, or if I was my current age. All I recall is wandering through my old high school in a sort of aimless manner. I knew that I needed to be in a class, but I wasn't sure which one. I also couldn't remember the last time I'd attended the class, so maybe I was already really far behind! I started worrying about where I needed to be, what class I was late for, where my locker was... so I booked it to the office and stood in line. When finally it was my turn to be helped I ended up quoting a current-day internet meme to the office administrator as some sort of lame response to her greeting, then asked for a copy of my transcript... and my current course enrollment and schedule.

As I said, it doesn't take a highly-trained professional to see that the high school dream was all about uncertainty and looking for my "place" in my current environment. You wouldn't even need any real context of the dream before, you could just ask one or two basic questions about my day/week/month at work or at home and figure out that I'm struggling to figure out where I fit in... and feeling more than a little bit that I don't have a good grasp of everything that's going on, that I don't have control of my situation.

In completely not-dream-related and uninteresting news, it snowed, then it melted. This is the second winter where there's been negligible accumulation by mid-February. I fear we are in for another long, dry and hot summer. What happened to the snow days and blizzards of my youth in Minnesota? Was it just Minnesota? I find it difficult to believe that Illinois in the 80s didn't get blizzards and regularly have snow days.

As the winter winds litter London with lonely hearts

While I was out shoveling the driveway and sidewalk this morning, I was reminded why I love winter:

*obvious sound of a pull-start engine being yanked on*
whud whud whud. whud.

*obvious sound of a pull-start engine being yanked on*
WHUD whud whud. whud.

*obvious sound of a pull-start engine being yanked on*
whud whud Whud WHUD WHUD WHUD WHUD! WHUD! Whud. whud.

"Fuck."

A snowblower is a luxury that I miss having (the one my parents have on the farm can kick wet, sticky snow into a rooster tail 25 feet tall....) but, on the other hand, it's hard to have a problem starting your shovel.

Happy birthday to the incredible, often inscrutable (and possibly insane but always fantastical) chebutykin!

In news related to last night's storm: About 1/16th of an inch of ice encapsulated most everything before the snow started, then the snow turned into rain. It was worse up North where the birthday party was... once we got back down to my neck of the woods (about 14 miles South) it was 38+ degrees and slushy. What we're left with is like a stale powdered donut -- the white is deceiving, but it's pretty crunchy and not particularly fun but isn't causing any real harm either.

The party itself, however, was awesome. It was a small crowd... myself, lady_curmudgeon, the host and his wife, markvd (aka "the birthday boy"), asetwoman and one of the birthday boy's old coworkers from Addison. In no particular order our activities included: eating fatty foods, watching a DVD about puppets that swear, petting the lampshade cat, eating more fatty foods, mixing drinks and trading stories about old and inept managers. Once everyone was good and liquored up I introduced everyone to Apples to Apples. A-t-A has become my defacto and ultimately favorite game to play at any party where alcohol is involved.

steal your crown

Sweet, sweet land. Or more accurately, sweet not-buried-snow apartment.

I arrived at casa de hightensile and mindslide about ten minutes ago, which puts my arrival at 8:54 PM. I left at 4:13 PM from work. That's a four-and-a-half hour drive, which normally takes me about 2 hours and change. Kit wisely pried my fists apart from their clenched state and shoved a Leinenkugel's Apple Spice into one still-trembling-with-fear-and-rage hand. Apparently he had conspired via phone with hakeber and the consensus was that in order to speak English again I'd need some sort of booze.

They weren't wrong.

I wanted to phone in at 7:55 that I was 25 miles from Madison and I'd seen two state cruisers in the ditch, but my cellphone sucks, so I didn't.

And now I'm here. I'm going to finish this beer and we're going to blow things up in Halo 2. Because if I don't inflict some video game violence, I'm going to explode.