Feeds:Friday
"He put his fist through the window and his foot through the door, and she don't believe in his dreams anymore. No, she don't believe in his dreams anymore. And what's more, she's probably right."
The Magnetic Fields, of course.
So I had this dream wherein I was trying to find the accoutrements of a cold cereal breakfast, and they were in none of the normal places in my parents' home. Finally I went outside and asked my mother where they were. "On the top shelf of Harperstondectono," she said matter-of-factly (pronunciation: "harpa-stonda-cona"). Assuming that she had named the kitchen cupboards in like manner to the maclab computers, I proceeded to ask her which one, exactly, was Harperstondectono. It turned out to be the right-hand floating cupboard above the fridge, a ridiculous place to put anything one uses more than once a month.
I woke up thinking about bran cereals, and how my parents used to make fun of me for not knowing things that they themselves were responsible for teaching me, like nutrition and how to do laundry. Nowadays, of course, I can just ask Dr. Google (for the most part -she appears to be still working on her doctorate in a number of fields, and so her information is incomplete). But I find it irksome when people do that. Not that many people are in a position to, anymore, and most of the few who are (id est, teachers and advisors) have the good sense to realize their responsibility in the matter.
Bah, listen to me whine. Ok, sure, I'm largely self-educated, but that doesn't mean I can't be bitter about it sometimes. But I'm probably just cranky because I haven't eaten breakfast yet.
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