Dreamlog

Moving anxiety:
So Mom and Dad and Dru and his girlfriend came to visit, and we were about to leave my apartment, when I noticed all the doors to the other apartments were open, the lights on and the rooms empty. Oh my god! I live in a dorm! And it's semester end! Wait, I'm a grad student! This isn't fair! But the brother's gf reassured me that I had 5 hours left, so we went off to dinner, and screw the penalties for late packing.

Epic sf:
I'm a member of either some armed forces team (a la SG-1) or more likely some elite police force on this world sometime in the future. Our team leader (sort of Clooney-ish with a definite Jack O'Neill attitude) has discovered that an alien computer/machine thing had taken over the government and was slowly insinuating itself into our daily lives. There was a sort of shoot-out (very arcade-game in feel) where we had to keep shooting these glowy balls before they fully formed - once they formed, they'd spot us and the jig would be up. After a while of this, we got our objective (whatever it was) and bugged out for a rendesvous.

It was in this entry hallway, with little tour groups coming through, we ducked around a corner, and headed up into the conduits above the hallway (it was sort of jungle-canopy-ish instead of building-interior, but hey, it was away from the computer/machine's spy cameras and we could plan our way out of its clutches.

And then it turned into this galactic struggle, and I blew up the planet with our team leader on it because it was the computer/machine's main base, and there was a cute pilot we picked up on the outer rim who turned into one of our forward agents, and wow - pretty epic in scope.

Lap lane rage

Oh yeah. That's why I don't go swimming at the gym that often.

See, other people have road rage. I have lap lane rage. Maybe it's the hubris of half a dozen years of swimming lessons followed by 4 years on the varsity swim team in high school. I know I know how to swim. I'm not fast by any means, but I've got a nice, efficient stroke. Which, ok: there are three double-wide lanes. Fast, Intermediate, Slow. I generally hit the Intermediate lane - I'm not as fast as some of these college kids racing by me, and the one old dude in the fast lane with the freaky long hair and beard that he doesn't tie back... ew.

But really, people. If there's only one other person in the Slow lane, and I'm LAPPING you while KICKING - get the fuck out of my lane! GAH!!! I mean it's bad enough when I pass people doing the crawl, and I'm just mosying along in breaststroke, but if I'm not even using half my body, it's pretty damn pathetic! Also, when I can't go a lap without banging into your toes? It makes me cranky! Cranky like I'm about to jam that leg buoy where the sun don't shine!