Satisfying Friday Shuffle.

I know, I know... I haven't been around in a while. But I won't dwell on false promises of my regular return. This is only a quick visit to say how wonderfully my mind was blown during my Friday morning commute by none other than...

...my iPod's shuffle setting.

Ok, let me explain my exuberance over this seeming trifle. For the past...week? month?...I've been listening to the same 10-15 songs over, and over, and over, ad nauseam because I just wasn't feeling most other songs that popped up on my computer's iTunes or my iPod (the classic edition, none of those fancy-schmancy touch screen shenanigans here, thank-you-very-much!).

But this morning, I broke tradition and took a gamble that paid off (I thought) very well. Instead of listening to NPR during my morning commuter, I broke out the iPod and the AUX output jack and set it up to shuffle.

Wow. Best 20-minute drive of the week. It's insane how omniscient the shuffle setting is at times, playing just the right songs to capture a prevailing mood or to set the mood for the day.

And so, for all posterity to see and have what-in-the-flying-tarnation-made-that-shuffle-so-good-on-that-particular-morning ruminations about, I present the "Satisfying Friday Shuffle Playlist":

Satisfying Friday Shuffle Playlist

"Cold Eye" - The Cave Singers
"Lucky Man" - Emerson, Lake & Palmer
"Sun in My Mouth" - Bjork
"Where You've Been Hiding" - Architecture in Helsinki
"On Ships of Gold" - Black Heart Procession
"O.K." - Michael Penn

And that's it.

Parts of speech and proper punctuation.

Now, dust off your grammar books, children. Auntie Allison needs to talk about the parts of speech.

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I swear, I'm usually an intelligent person. But I had to pause for a few minutes when I read this headline:

"City rejects drive up for Dunkin' Donuts"

I would suppose that when any of us reads a sentence, our brain not only deciphers the words, but also defines how that word fits into and adds meaning to the surrounding sentence (i.e. what part of speech the word acts as). I'm not saying its a conscious action; most words are not so ambiguous or multifunctional that our understanding of them hinges on what part of speech they are.

But that headline puzzled me more than seven words should have the power to do. My brain saw that sentence, chewed it up, and spit it out as:

City (adj.) rejects (n.) drive (v.) up (prep.) for (prep.) Dunkin' Donuts (prop. n.)

And this alarmed me. I thought, "Why does it matter where the rejects of the city are driving?" And then, "Is this, perhaps, also a judgment on Dunkin' Donuts?"

("Dunkin' Donuts... Oh, you know, the coffee place where all the rejects go...")

My eyes scanned the article quickly and realized that what the headline actually meant was:

City (n.) rejects (v.) drive-up (n.) for (prep.) Dunkin' Donuts (prop. n.)

My problem is this: The only reason my brain couldn't decipher that sentence properly is because the editor didn't know to hyphenate the word "drive-up" as it applies to a fast food chain.

What an idiot.

---

Anyway, children, the moral of this story is to always use proper punctuation, or you may inadvertently slander a restaurant chain or the population of a local city.

Sigh.

My psychic life.

Last night, I had what may very well be classified as a PSYCHIC DREAM.

And it was about the secret (well, not anymore) CIA operative otherwise known as Asplundh.

Now, this requires a bit of back story. For the past few weeks, a number of white pick-up trucks marked with the word "Asplundh" have been staking out the territory surrounding the office where I work. During our post-lunch walk, my coworkers and I witnessed two Asplundh trucks engaging in what can only be described as very poorly disguised reconnaissance. These trucks have also been parked at various points along the road that leads to the office building, once going so far as to park directly in front of the driveway leading into our parking lot.

Sketchy, right?

Naturally, my friends and I love to joke that Asplundh is obviously a cover for some unit of the CIA. (Perhaps a training unit, hence the overtly sketchy behavior.) But none of us ever actually knew what Asplundh was...until I uncovered the truth with my subconscious (unconscious) mind.

Needless to say, I, Allison, successfully Google-searched Asplundh in a dream last night.

Yes, successfully. In my dream, I wanted to uncover the truth behind the inside joke, so I completed a Google search on the word "Asplundh." At first, that lead me to a page about the Department of Homeland Security (of course). That result, though fitting, didn't make sense even in my dream. However, a second search attempt told me that Asplundh was, in fact, some sort of tree preservation society or organization.

This morning, after waking up and laughing about my dream, I was inspired to do a real Google search which uncovered....


...a government-hired agency dedicated to tree and vegetation management.

Me = psychic.

End of story.

Mysteries of the office.

This morning at work, I made a quick calculation on a Post-It and then tore the note off the half-used pad for a clean sheet. Already scrawled on the now-exposed note underneath was a simple message: "Hi!"

I've had this pad of Post-Its on my desk for at least six months, but it's not my handwriting. Hmm.... Mysterious.

This is like that time I found a Queen of Hearts playing card placed face-down on my desk, perfectly parallel with both the edge of my keyboard and desk. Mysterious.

I still carry the Queen of Hearts in my wallet.

The Post-It will probably be thrown away.

So it goes.

Everything is better with baby turtles.

Last night I dreamt that I stumbled upon the gates to Hell, and they were surrounded by gorillas. Big, mean gorillas. I was kind of worried, but I didn't stick around long because I knew I had an appointment to get to at 6 p.m. It was already 5:26, so I had to hurry. I couldn't remember what the appointment was, though, so I looked in my day planner. It read:

Oralogist
5:30 p.m.

Oralogist is, obviously, dreamspeak for "dentist." I worried about being late to my appointment, and felt stupid for remembering the time incorrectly, but I HAD to go to the dentist. So I hopped in my car and drove to the "dentist's office," which was actually an office hallway that led to a dirty, hectic kitchen.

Once inside, I adopted two baby turtles. The dentist examined both turtles, deemed them healthy and then dropped them into a fish bowl filled with orange juice. The two turtles became one, the fishbowl became an aquarium, and the orange juice slowly transformed into water. I was excited to take the turtle(s) home, but wasn't sure how I'd carry the aquarium back to my car.


Whatever that means, it made for a very topsy-turvy morning for my brain when I finally woke up. I forgot to put on eyeliner, and then I left my cell phone at home.

But, man, those baby turtles were cute.

Tell it to Tupac.

It's apparent I'm not awake yet. The lights are on but no one's home. I've been at work about 20 minutes, and within the past two I've seemingly been misreading everything.

Looking over some lists of performers with new events coming up:

Frank Sinatra, Jr. was truncated in my mind to Frank Sinatra.
Bill Cosby transfigured into Bing Crosby.

And my mind screamed, DEAD MEN CAN'T MAKE MUSIC!

But tell that to Tupac and Biggie, right?

Lazy.

Well, here I am, updating because I feel like I should. Nothing new to say, really. Overall, I'm contented with life besides the occasional interpersonal setbacks and internal tantrums. Days have been busy, hazy and fast, and my dreams have been vivid and overdrawn, per the usual. In high school, teen-ages ago, I used to compare key components of my dreams against various decoding "dictionaries," but these days they don't tell me anything about myself, maybe just about the generic perceptions of other people. Life, waking or sleeping, is in the eye of the beholder, and I am more privy to all my facets than most-if-not-all beholders. (I might not share well with others, but I share everything with myself.) Most everyone else just focuses on one aspect, actual or not, scattering me-myself to pieces across a plane of unconsciously willful misunderstanding. I am what I am, that is to say. For better or for worse, but always striving for best. And I find myself knowing all that I do and more of what I don't, and am thankful for my wealth of self-insight.

Now, putting that into action....