Puzzles, a Job Offer, and a Hive Mind of Sea Pigs (among other matters)

This past week has picked up considerably from the week before. Most importantly, I've accepted a job offer, so my job search is thankfully over! It's worth noting that it took about 3 weeks of dedicated searching, with an average of about 2-4 applications per day. I accepted the offer on Wednesday, January 23, and the current projected start date is February 10.

The most interesting thing about this job is that I received the lead from a friend of mine at the canasta group that I attend some Fridays at Panera. I'm looking forward to going there again, maybe next week, to let her know that we're going to be colleagues now!

A few things are also exciting in the creative realm: I've finally landed on what kind of YouTube series I'll do (I've long had an interest in vlogging): I'm going to try out doing a jigsaw puzzle time lapse series, where I show my process of categorizing pieces and assembling them. I see other videos like it have done well, and I figure it will be both educational (for people who want to get into jigsaw puzzlery) and soothing to watch the puzzle come together - kind of like those addicting videos on Facebook where it shows a recipe being prepared, sped-up.

In any case, below is the first video I've done so far. I'm going to try to come out with new updates weekly, and I'll probably record the assembly footage for the next puzzle today!

The other fun thing that happened this week was that I went to Maryland to visit Nathan, the same day that I accepted the job. It was a good way to celebrate and I haven't seen Nathan for some time (since before the holidays) so it was great to catch up with him as well. Below is what we got up to:

• We went to Rinconcito Mexicano (one of our favorite restaurants in his area and the only Mexican restaurant in these parts that even remotely compares to Pancho Villa's).
• After we had indulged our gluttony, we returned to his house and played several rounds of his very wholesome video game "Dead at Daylight." I'm so terrible at it that my one gameplay as the killer brought down his ranking :D 
• He showed me an episode of "Hazbin Hotel." It was an interesting idea but I ultimately do not think that it is my jam.
• We slept and I had an interesting dream that I'll share more about momentarily.
• We lazed about in the morning until we both got really hungry and then we went to the General House (where it turns out that you cannot eat real generals, but you can partake in all-you-can-eat sushi).
• We went next door to Great Clips so that Nathan could get his hair cut.
• We watched the new Star Wars movie
• Later that evening, I went ahead and packed up and headed home since he would have to get up early the next morning for work anyway.

Now, regarding the wacky dream I had: I was at some kind of resort or apartment complex and my dad's family was nearby (they came in later in the dream, but I don't remember what all we got up to). Outside, it was nighttime. It had just rained a lot and the sidewalks and concrete stairs were flooded. I saw these weird little pinkish creatures drifting through the water and I felt revulsion. They looked like sea pigs.

This is a sea pig

I tried to avoid brushing against them, treating them with the same aversion as seaweed. I sloshed through water up to my ankles until I made it to the swimming pool, which was, of course, overflowing.

My boyfriend sat in the swimming pool, reclining in the corner with his elbows resting on the curb of the pool. I went over to talk to him (I am unsure now about what) and while we were speaking, a naked woman (there were several of them in the pool) came over and swam all up in his personal space, very suggestively (though I think it would have been hard to do it any other way in her current state).

My boyfriend was (understandably) distracted from our conversation, and I was irritable. I wanted to say, "Hey, lady! Can't you see me trying to have a conversation here?" I also felt jealous in the dream, so I ended up storming away at some point, at which time I reunited with my dad's family for the part of the dream that I no longer remember...

So I woke up and told this dream to Nathan, and the funny part was his response to it:

Nathan: Why didn't I get naked ladies?
Me: Maybe you were somewhere else in the pool and I just didn't talk to you.
Nathan: Maybe I was underwater the whole time and I died.
[After a moment]
Nathan: I was the sea pigs.
All of them.
A hive mind of sea pigs, drinking deep of the images of naked ladies.

Now that moment and a few others during my visit have led me to decide to keep a text/photo journal of amusing moments, both with Nathan and others. I think I'll probably ultimately store that on here, as a blog draft, so I can go look at it and get a giggle occasionally. Nathan shared that his friend Brent does the same thing. He has several Nathan quotations stored on his phone, some of them with context that is no longer remembered by either of them. After we talked about my dream, we actually called Brent so that Brent could share the quotes with me. I told Nathan that Brent is my favorite out of his friends (I like how he appreciates Nathan's humor as much as I do, and he seems like a very supportive, cool friend in general) - but I told him not to tell Brent that so it doesn't go to his head.

Finally, as I mentioned in my last post, I wanted to talk a little more about something I've started to call "film poetry," but that post was getting a little long so I figured I'd touch on it again here! What do I mean when I say film poetry? Well, here's how I tried to explain it in the last post:

Occasionally there will be a moment in a film that just comes across perfectly - sometimes it's the acting, sometimes it's timing, and other times it's a perfect synchronization of what is being shown onscreen and the music. Sometimes it's not even a very significant moment.

 In the last post, I described several such moments (at least from my aesthetic perspective) in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Here, I want to touch on one moment in The Ring, my favorite horror film and a film which happens to be full of film poetry. The reason I want to treat this one moment specifically is because of how insignificant it is in the scheme of the whole plot - yet at the same time, it underscores the pathos that the majority of the film is striving toward.

In this scene, Rachel is watching a recorded therapy session where the child antagonist, Samara, is explaining how she feels that her father doesn't love her. About 17 seconds in, after Samara says this, Rachel makes this sympathy noise, almost a clucking of her tongue. I've always really loved this gesture from Naomi Watts.

To me, it is a perfect expression of the essence of her character. While she is a busy mother, a mother who is not always there, the film underscores her maternal role nonetheless, both in her attempt to protect her son from the curse and in her sympathy toward Samara. Here, the noise she makes feels like a mingled frustration and sadness - she is sad that a child would feel that way, unloved by her father, and frustrated that her parents made her feel that way.

You almost feel her, in this scene, yearning to make it right herself - just as she later tries to tell the corpse of Samara that everything is OK before the latter decomposes before her eyes.

Job Search, Florida, and Dirt Cake (among other matters)

"It's been far too long since I've written," says Robyn as she prepares to write another blog post that is likely to be the only one in several months. That said, each time I look back through past posts and get a smile from them, or remember something from that time in my life that I've forgotten, I am reminded how rewarding of a habit it is to actually keep a journal. So here's to hoping I can get back to that.

It shouldn't be too hard for me to do at the moment, as I am currently between jobs. But it is funny how busy I've been despite not having regular work hours. I've done my best to make my job search my job, and when I'm done with each day's round of applications, I find that I'm pretty tired. I think some of it might be the inherent emotional drain of the job search, which Rodney mentioned today on the way to ice cream and which I think is very possible. Each day I seem to alternate between feeling hopeful and frustrated, though I'm sure that's normal.

Apart from the job search, which is not too interesting in itself (I do have a few interview opportunities coming up next week, so that is at least exciting), here's what else is going on:

• I've been thinking of Florida lately

This is not unusual for me. Florida has always been my happy place, where we would go on vacation to see family and visit Disney World. Last year, I had the lucky chance to go to Florida twice: 1) to Miami, where Steven and I stayed a day before embarking on a cruise to the Bahamas and 2) to Naples to see family (my dad, Heather, Hope, Annalie, and Holden were there at the same time for spring break).

The Miami trip was cool because it was my first time in that city, and it was also a chance to see Dexter filming locations from the first (and best) season of the show (apparently filming for subsequent seasons mostly took place in California). Here's a map of the places we saw.

On the mainland, there was the Bayfront Marketplace (where Dexter is on a date with Rita before one of the ice truck killer's victims is found in the fountain) and the old drawbridge right next to it, no longer in operation, where Dexter pursues the ice truck killer and gets a head thrown at his car.

A little further north was the Seven Seas Motel, whose swimming pool featured as a crime scene in the very first episode. It is also the setting where Debra first gets introduced.

From there, we Ubered to the north tip of Miami Beach to take a look at Dexter's apartment. Last but not least, we traveled down to the southeastern corner of Miami Beach to the street where the ice truck killer's truck is discovered. This street also features in the first episode (and I forget, maybe a few other parts of the show as well).

Each of the locations described above can be looked at in this Google Photos album.

So now, on my film locations list, I can say that I've tackled the following:

• Amelie
• The Ring
• Dexter

While it was very exciting to see all of these filming locations, one of the more moving moments of the Miami trip happened on the morning after I arrived (I got in late at night), before we even started sight-seeing. I woke up and Steven went to get in the shower, and I recall lying in bed, watching the light play on the wall from the shadows of palm trees waving outside.

Here's a quick glimpse of the flourishing life

that I could see outside the window in Miami

There’s something unique about Florida sunlight, or maybe it is just something I see through rose-colored nostalgia lenses. The light is so yellow and cheerful. I recall lying in bed, looking at that light and the dancing shadow on the wall, and feeling a peace and bliss that I have felt very rarely since childhood. I also simultaneously felt full of energy and excitement, so that once I did get up, I was ready and eager to go explore the film locations after a breakfast-lunch at the nearby Wendy's. Stepping outside and feeling the breezy sea-heat on my skin, I felt like a young girl again. It was a very weird, very intense joy that is hard to describe.

Not too long after the cruise, I had the opportunity to go back down to Naples to visit family. I felt the same general happiness described above throughout my time there (I even find that I forgive Florida for its heat, whereas I do not excuse other states for their high temperatures; it may just be that I have not been often exposed to Florida summers, which I know are supposed to be particularly beastly). In addition, when I visited my grandmother's house (and met her cat Gypsy for the first time!), I had another sentimental moment. I think her house is one of the greatest places in the world and it almost strikes me like a sacred place when I enter it - the unique, mystical incense smell; the furniture and photographs mostly in the same places they were in from the time I was very young; my mother's old belongings from adolescence preserved in her room. It is a place full of history and also the place where I remember being the happiest as a kid, spending time with my cousins.

So now, jump back to present day - I've decided that I don't want to go another three years before I return to that wonderful state. I definitely want to wait to make travel plans until I have another situation, but I'm hoping that Florida will be able to make the list along with New York City (I want to take my mom there, probably for her birthday, but we might wait until the autumn so that we're there when the weather is most beautiful).

Another question about Florida has crossed my mind - I occasionally wonder if I would have the same feelings about it if I were to live there continuously. I'm sure that my shitty adult mind would eventually take it for granted, wake up, and be like, "eh this fucking place again." Just like how, before I came to DC for school, I had this idea that I would go to the Lincoln Memorial at least once a week and do my homework on Honest Abe's lap (I didn't actually think I'd get to sit on his lap - but I did think I would make regular pilgrimages there) - and out of the four years I was at school, I went over there maybe three or four total times. As it turns out, two miles away (distance between Georgetown and the memorial) is just far enough that walking there frequently becomes a pain in the ass, while it's just short enough that one doesn't want to spend the metro fare on it. Anyway, the point is that for four years, I had DC and the glory of the National Mall at my fingertips, and I rarely ventured outside of the bubble of campus except for walks in the Georgetown neighborhood.

I'm sure the same sort of thing would happen with Florida, and besides, I would not want to leave my loved ones to live there. So, it appears that my love for Florida will continue to flourish from afar and that is probably for the best.

• I've determined the kind of cake I'll have for my birthday this year

Worms and Dirt cake! I was talking to Kalyn on the phone last night, and she was telling me about having this kind of cake as a Lunchables snack. It made me remember how my then-best friend had this kind of cake for her 5th birthday at Jonestown Pool, and I thought it was the most wonderful cake and I've wanted to have one ever since. So now, appropriately, for my 25th birthday, I will make that childhood dream come true. I've found a recipe that looks pretty delicious so I will endeavor to make the cake myself!

• I'm listening to Crime and Punishment on audiobook

I don't have too much to say about it yet except that it makes a good audiobook - all the internal dialogue is much more dramatic when someone is reading it to you. I'm four hours in and have 16 hours to go!

• I've decided that Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (AKA Harry Potter and the actually correct suspicion about Draco Malfoy) is actually a pretty good film, despite my original beef with it

My original beef with it was mainly:

• The stupid added fire scene at the Weasleys' house
• The removal of key memories from the Pensieve scenes - especially Ogden's memory
• The cave scene could have been longer and creepier

On rewatching, I still regret the above things, but it also has a certain thing going for it that I might refer to as poetry. What I mean by this is occasionally there will be a moment in a film that just comes across perfectly - sometimes it's the acting, sometimes it's timing, and other times it's a perfect synchronization of what is being shown onscreen and the music. Sometimes it's not even a very significant moment. In my next post (since this one is getting long), I might talk about just such an insignificant moment in one of my favorite films, but for now I'll focus on where this happens in HP6:

• The moment when Ron is poisoned

Even in the book, this moment is very shocking and unexpected - the mood changes all of a sudden from very silly (when Ron is under the influence of the love potion) to extremely serious (we almost lose one of the main characters of the whole series, and we don't even know if he's OK until we turn the page to the next chapter). In the movie, the way the shot is framed with Slughorn and Harry on either side of Ron, and the latter taking his swig and keeling over while Slughorn gives his toast "to life!" - there's just something about it that is very impactful on watching. I think it is a combination of timing and the visual content of the shot (how Ron is framed in the middle).

• Aragog's funeral

This one is definitely a combination of the music and the content being shown onscreen. The contrast of the beautiful, Celtic-sounding lament music and the humorous dialogue between Hagrid (who loved Aragog), Harry (who has very good reason not to care for Aragog after Book 2), and Slughorn (who mainly wishes to gain financially from Aragog's venom but who also wants to be polite and respectful to Hagrid).

• The moment after the true Slughorn memory

This is the moment when Dumbledore is explaining how to find horcruxes. As he is explaining that dark magic like that "leaves traces," Harry touches the ring horcrux and has a flash of Voldemort related images. At the same time, the music intensifies, and afterward, Harry cracks his neck in a way that we've come to associate with his snakelike, Voldemort-imposed dissociations. A perfect combination of acting, music, and timing.

• "Journey to the Cave"

I put this in quotes because it is the title of the track that plays when Harry and Dumbledore first arrive at the rock outside the cave. Beautiful, sorrowful music and equally beautiful, austere cinematography. Even though the subsequent scenes lack the creepiness they could have achieved, those of us who read the books can appreciate what is coming. I wrote a little more about why I love this piece in a practice Spanish journal entry on italki.

• The bird motif

Like a leitmotif in music, the bird that Draco uses for testing the vanishing cabinet becomes a significant motif. In that quiet moment when Ginny and Harry open the vanishing cabinet door and the live bird flies out, we the audience who have read the book get to have an exquisite moment of dramatic irony: "Oh shit, he's fixed it..." The moment is all the more exquisite because the characters do not recognize the significance of it.

Symbolism and Portrayals of Miscarriage

I want to do a few blog posts about symbolism. It's a topic that has long fascinated me, and which is particularly on my mind recently after a trip to Seattle where we visited several film locations from my favorite horror film, The Ring, which happens to be chock-full of symbolism.

But first, let's talk about what symbolism is. At its most basic, symbolism requires a signifier and that which is signified (linked here is a website discussing Sassure's theory of signs to which I am referring). It is one thing pointing to another thing. Perhaps the simplest example of symbols in action is language - where letters and words are signifiers pointing to concepts which are signified. As the above article explains, even words that are translated as equal between languages might not have exactly the same meaning.

As an example, the English word "realize" can be used in at least 2 different contexts: 1) becoming aware of something - "I realized that he must be speaking from personal experience" and 2) accomplishing a goal or vision - "We realized our goal of raising $2000 for charity." Meanwhile, in French, these two signified concepts each have their own words, "se rendre compte" and "réaliser," respectively. Part of what makes languages fascinating to study is that they are not perfectly-matching codes...each language has evolved uniquely according to its history and the culture of its speakers.

Another interesting thing to note about symbolism is that it is usually a very visual concept. Even in literature, when we speak of symbolism, we are talking about elements that are described visually to us - what does Dr. Eckleburg (the billboard) in The Great Gatsby stand for, or what does the domestic servant in Camus's The Misunderstanding symbolize? The signifier is almost ALWAYS something we can see or imagine visually. This is not necessary for that which is signified.

As an example, take the recent Disney Pixar short film, Bao, about a woman who forms a mother-child bond with a dumpling that she has prepared. When the dumpling-child grows up and tries to move out, the woman eats it. Later, when the woman's actual son visits her and we observe a conciliatory moment where they are sitting on the bed together, the symbolism of the short starts to reveal itself. The visual element, the signifier, was the woman's act of eating the dumpling. What did it stand for, or in other words, what was the signified? It seems to stand for her relationship with her real son, which we never really see and we only get a hint of at the end of the film. Because of the totally unrelated experience she has with the dumpling, we are able to assume that she likely smothered her son with over-protectiveness and clinginess, preventing him from experiencing the world independently. The destructive act of eating the dumpling-child points to this.

Here is another question that I pondered: apart from language, which is a kind of necessary symbolism, why do we employ symbolism conceptually in art, writing, and film? What makes it worthwhile? Here are a few of my thoughts:

Symbols are condensed image-poems. What I mean by this is, when we see symbols in writing or film, they usually represent something bigger or more difficult to articulate in words, and if the writer/director does this skillfully, it tends to make the impact of that symbol really powerful emotionally. You can think of a symbol as a can of Coke that your mean sibling gave a good shake to before you opened it: There's a lot of meaning compressed in that can of Coke, and when you open it and realize what the connection to the signified is, the result can be quite explosive (literally in this example, but emotionally when it actually comes to symbols).

Symbols are intrinsically enjoyable to us as puzzles. We humans like our crosswords, Sudoku puzzles, and mystery films. In microcosm, a lot of us also enjoy the little pleasure of connecting a signifier with its signified. Another example I can think of from film is Frank the rabbit from Donnie Darko. We spend the whole movie wondering who the hell this guy is or what he stands for, and especially if you watch the Director's cut, we get rewarded twofold: we find out who he is concretely and also what he represents (or signifies) in the film's theory of parallel universes.

***

Now, symbols don't always need to represent something hazy and undefined, or something of cosmic proportions, or something ineffable. They can represent very real things, but in a simplified, powerful way. Sometimes this is done for censorship purposes or simply because it is more emotionally powerful to hint at something without ever revealing it (good horror writers know this well). Occasionally, these symbols become so commonly understood that they are functionally interchangeable with the thing they represent - almost like a new word in a language.

One example of this that I can think of in film is the way that miscarriage and other pregnancy difficulties are routinely symbolized. It sounds like a very strange, specific example, but it is such a common signified concept in films as diverse as Up, Tale of Tales, and The Help that it is worth mentioning.

In Up, we are made to assume that Ellie has had a miscarriage or difficulties in conceiving due to a symbolic scene of her crying in a hospital shortly after the scene where she and Carl are looking up at baby-shaped clouds. Of course, as this is a children's movie, the main reason they relegate this moment to the symbolic is for censorship. Kids watching this scene likely struggle to understand what has happened, at least at first - it probably becomes clearer as the expected baby fails to appear onscreen. I think I even remember seeing this film in theaters and hearing a little boy nearby whisper to his mom, "Why is she crying?"

Meanwhile, the symbolic hospital shot does not reduce the emotional impact of the moment for the adults who do understand what is happening - if anything, it strengthens the emotional impact, because we have been taught to understand through an accumulation of associations what a woman crying in a hospital means (given other contextual clues), and that unspoken realization, the connection of that image with the concept of "miscarriage" makes our sympathy more powerful than if a doctor character had just said it outright to the camera.

When we watch a film for older audiences like The Help, usually the signifier for miscarriage is a woman on the floor, often in a bathroom, her lower body covered with blood. Even in these adult films, the actual miscarriage is very rarely shown. If we don't see the woman on the floor or in the hospital after the fact, sometimes we see her start to have pains after a stressful event and later when she is grieving in bed we assume that she has miscarried.

Because censorship is not as much of a concern in these films, the reason for symbolism is far less practical and more of an artistic choice. The director believes that our sympathy will be more powerful if we "realize" what has happened rather than being told, if we ourselves put together the pieces of the ugly puzzle.

Why is this concept of miscarriage so popularly treated with symbolism? I think that this method of portrayal allows us to get closer to the raw emotions behind the event of a miscarriage. While it is difficult for me, as someone who has never carried a child, to conceptually imagine that level of sadness, the evocative images of blood, weeping, and a woman bent with sorrow help us to empathize with (if not fully comprehend) the feelings of horror, bodily betrayal, and harrowing loss that are associated with this event.

Algunos pensamientos acerca de la película Hereditario (Tiene destripes)

Voy a escribir en español y francés a veces para practicar estas lenguas. En mismo tiempo, voy a poner estas entradas sobre italki.com, donde pueden recibir correcciones.

Bueno, hablemos de Hereditario. Hace dos semanas, mi padre me envió un enlace a la página de IMDB sobre esta película; la vídeo y todos los comentarios sobre esta página proclaman que Hereditario ya es la película mas escalofriante de 2018. Desde luego, estaba entusiasmada. He convencido a mis amigos de acompañarme al cine hace algunos días para verla. Estaba un poco decepcionada por varias razones.

Primero, la película no logró a hacerme suspender la incredulidad - lo sobrenatural no fue el problema, fue más la historia de la familia, la cuál cuenta la madre a su primera reunión del grupo de apoyo. Me costaba creer que tanta tragedia existiría de verdad para una sola familia – una matriarca que sufre de esquizofrenia y de trastorno de identidad disociativo a la vez, y un hermano que se suicidó a causa de presiones impuestas por esta misma matriarca.

Lo improbable aumentaba a lo largo de la película. Las reacciones del padre y del hijo a la condición mental que se deteriora de la madre es un ejemplo. Un padre normal habría marchado con su hijo mucho más temprano, si fuera solamente por preocupación sobre su seguridad. No me importa cuanto el padre y el madre se aman, cuantos años habían pasado juntos. No se habría quedado allí.

Además, no me gusta que la madre se volviera en personaje no creíble. Después de su mención de las enfermedades de la matriarca, me temí que fuera a ser una de esas películas donde es finalmente revelado que el personaje principal hizo todas las malas cosas pero no se lo dio cuenta a causa de su enfermedad mental. Ya es un patrón muy aburrido en películas de terror. A favor del director, la película no se terminó así, pero hubiera preferido que la madre quedara enteramente cuerda y creíble.

Finalmente, el director tardó demasiado tiempo revelando el misterio de la película. Cuando lo hizo por fin, fue brusco y por eso no hizo el impacto intencionado. La cadencia de esta revelación en películas de terror es tan importante y si frecuentemente ruinada. La mayoría de películas revela la fuente del terror demasiado temprano y esto desenmascaramiento mata nuestro miedo de lo desconocido; para mí, esta película hizo lo opuesto, tardando demasiado hasta que su sorpresa se pudrió y nos dejó sintiendo decepcionados y confundidos.

I'm Back

I want to get back to blogging, particularly about my dreams, for 2 reasons:

1. I read somewhere that journaling about dreams makes it more likely for you to continue to have vivid dreams.
2. Journaling in general is writing practice, which will hopefully make my creative works better.

Last night I had 2 pretty strange dreams that overflowed into each other a little. I no longer remember what order they were in, but I'll describe them briefly...

In one of them, I don't think I was any particular character - I was mainly observing. It was the rural wasteland setting of Jeepers Creepers, and I was following the titular creature guy in his large truck. I think he was hunting this blonde lady who was parked at a gas station, and I do recall my anxiety in the dream as I rooted for her, hoping that she would get away.

The monster guy had climbed into her car, picked up the purse that she had left on the passenger seat, and was sniffing its contents in the backseat of the car. The lady eventually got back into her car and, much to my surprise, clobbered the monster guy over the head with something hard and started yelling at him, shaming him for breaking into a lady's car and what did he think he was doing sniffing through someone else's purse?! She gave him a good ol' fashioned Southern talking-to, and he was cowed and awed in equal measure.

There was a sort of dream montage, and in the next scene, the same lady and the creature guy were entering this white house, very freshly and crisply painted...I had the absurd impression that they were moving in together as romantic partners.

In the next dream, I was in a hotel that had at least two large buildings that were separated from each other by a lake. Some of the anxiety from the previous dream persisted...as though I suspected that the Jeepers Creepers monster might appear to hunt me or the other hotel residents. I forget who was with me in this dream, but I was not alone. At one point, very hungry, I and my companion wandered up to the top floor of the hotel, where there was a wide-open dining hall that served McDonalds. I got up to the counter and was ordering my food when my companion informed me that the McDonalds was not taking any card payments. As I was being told this, I watched a lady at the register beside me pay with Traveler's Checks, and I felt outraged at the injustice.

"Really. So you take cash and Traveler's Checks but not card?" I asked the cashier in a voice that I would never use with a cashier in real life. The cashier shrugged.

I sighed and told my friend that I would have to go down and walk across to the far side of the other hotel building to get to the parking lot where my car was parked - because for some reason my cash was in there. I was annoyed and concerned that the McDonalds would be closed by the time I got back, since hotel food hours can be very unpredictable.

I Dreamt My Friend Was a Sea Monster

Indeed I did - this was two nights ago, the night which preceded my return to school. In the dream, I was with my mom and I had somehow convinced her to join me in the choir that morning, but when we got to the church, we saw that the choristers filing up onto the chancel were wearing blue, shiny robes instead of our usual red ones. So, since we were already late, my mom and I rushed upstairs, intending to search for these new robes, which weren't in the ladies' robe room but in this vast closet that had all sorts of different-colored robes that was between the ladies' room and the men's room. I was so busy exploring all of these weird varieties of robes that I almost forgot that we were late, and it was with renewed frenzy that I grabbed a shiny blue robe and tossed it over my head, doing up the zipper and urging my mother to do the same with hers.
Then we ran back downstairs and joined the rest of the choir on the chancel - the sermon had already started, and for whatever reason, our pastor Mr. Barnes was talking about some huge sea monster that had been spotted in the Atlantic Ocean. As he described it, an aerial video that had probably been taken from an airplane was projected onto the wall behind him (and onto the back wall for everyone on stage to see). The camera panned across what must have been a mile of ocean, and all along this stretch, huge humps of the sea monster rose up out of the water and dipped in again - this thing was really colossal - again, I don't know why we were discussing it in church, but we took up the offering shortly afterward, which leads me to believe that the sea monster was somehow directly related to whatever cause we were collecting the offering for.
After the service was over, my mom and I left through the center of the aisle - my dad was in the crowd, sitting next to a bunch of snooty rich people with British accents, and he halted me to disapprove of our weird robes loudly to his new friends. Then we finally managed to leave and my mother was really mad for some reason about my dad's insults.
Then I was walking along the highway to my friend Shannon's house. When I got there, I told her about the sea monster video and she informed me, much to my surprise, that she had already heard of and even made the acquaintance of this sea monster - then, as though I was in her mind, I witnessed her flashback of this event. She was hanging out of her window, yelling at her mom (who was standing on the porch) to come inside. Wending its way down the street was the giant sea monster, which paused and reared its green-gray head, studying Shannon's mom just as hard as she was studying it - all the while, Shannon was yelling for her mom to watch out and come inside - but too late - the monster lunged, narrowly missing Shannon's mom (who dived out of the way) and nearly choking on one of the porch's support beams instead.
Then, somehow, in a separate event, I was speaking with my friend Di over lunch - somehow the sea monster came up again, and she told me that she was the giant sea monster.
"You mean you can turn into a mile-long giant sea monster?" I asked her incredulously. "How long have you been able to do this?"
She said that she wasn't sure; as far as she knew, she had possessed this power since birth.
"And you can do it at will?" I asked her. She nodded.
For some reason, I didn't think to ask her why she had tried to eat Shannon's mom.
Later in the dream, Shannon, Savannah, Stormy and I (and possibly more people) were all walking along the same desolate highway toward town. We had plans to go and eat pizza, and on our left, over what seemed to be a vast wasteland, my old middle school Hanes loomed in the hazy distance. The wasteland was fenced off and topped with barbed wire, but when we reached a spot where the fence bent inward, we saw a group of people smoking and drinking and leaning against the fence, my bus driver among them. She either did not recognize us or was too busy with her friends, so we continued walking, but after a while we saw a figure in the distance coming toward us. As we drew nearer, we saw that it was Di, walking alone. We all greeted her jovially and she asked us where we were headed.
"We were thinking of going to grab some pizza - want to come along?" we said. She agreed and fell into step with us.
"Now, if we see anyone we don't like along the way, you can eat them, Di!" I exclaimed, chortling at my joke and then immediately feeling guilty, worried that I had said an insensitive thing. It was at this point that I woke up.

True Story

So, we were walking along the front half of the Walmart on the North Side with our cart, finally ready to leave for the night. As we passed a banking station with FDIC advertised in bold letters on the glass, I found myself momentarily at a loss to remember what this acronym stood for, though I knew that it described the maximum amount of money that the bank will insure in your account - I remembered this much from studying the administration of President Franklin Roosevelt in U.S. History.
I jogged a bit to catch up with my mom and I asked her, "Hey, do you know what FDIC stands for?"
She turned and looked at me very seriously, then said, "F&$* dat ice cream."