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So. For a long time, the word in my house has been that when I clean up my room, I'd get moved to another bedroom in the house. And now they're (they being mis padres) actually doing it. Which I don't like. I've got enough stress and responsibility in my life right now that I'm actually actively rebelling against the responsibility and such. Dunno why, there's probably some Freudian reason/defense mechanism thing that I could come up with, but for once, I don't really feel like analyzing the why behind the why behind the what. But said rebelling is badbadbad. As I'm not doing my work, mainly. Adding more change to the mix is only making it worse. I can't handle change, especially over something as -- for lack of a better word -- sacred as my bedroom. I cleaned the bloody thing and I couldn't sleep well for 3 days. I was waking up and flipping over and not being able to get back to sleep and I barely got one continuous hour each night. I'm still not sleeping well since because I haven't yet gotten used to the difference in it being clean--something that seemingly inconsequential in the room where I sleep is enough to completely set me off track. I don't have a problem usually (I never sleep as well, but not this poorly) sleeping in other places on vacation or whatever because I know that it's temporary, it's that I know that I'm being shunted over into this room for good that's freaking me out.

It makes no sense, really. I just really like the room I'm in, but my mum decided that my little sister gets it now. Which also makes no sense to me, because my mom's all "you've had that room forever and you kept it all messy and so now you get the titchy room". But, err, I've never had a room to myself. Never. Never has the mess in the room been all or even mostly mine. Even though my sister doesn't sleep in the room that I'm in now (the bigger one), she keeps her stuff there and as such messes it up even more than I do because she doesn't have to be in there for long periods of time for sleeping and such. My brother has the freaking master bedroom (his is the biggest, the one I've got now is the next, the one I'm moving to is the smallest) and has had it to himself for years and it's twice as messy as mine ever was and it's all his mess. Does he have to move to a smaller room? No. So I really don't understand why they're doing this to me.

So yes. The room is tiny (there's a minuscule little futon in there right now, and when it's opened and in one corner, you've got maybe a meter on one side and a meter and a half on the other clearance between it and the opposite walls), it's this annoying shade of yellow (seriously. Yellow. It's all cutesy or whatever for a baby's room, which is what it was originally painted for: to be the playroom of sorts when I was born, but it's annoying and goes with none of my furniture), and did I mention TINY? It's maybe half the size of my old room. We're talking you probably get bigger accommodations in Rikers Island.

And the sad thing is that they're practically bribing me to get me in there. I dunno, it's not so much bribing as it's they want me to like the new room even though they're forcing me into it. I mean, I was told in no uncertain terms that there's no getting out of it, but they go shopping and buy these really cool black lacyish curtains to replace the closet doors (because they don't really open well) and cover the one window with, and I'm like "Yeah, they're gorgeous, but I still don't want the fucking room." And it's always been "Hey, clean your room and we'll move you into this one and you'll get your own computer." Which is lovely, obviously, but I don't know how a computer could even fit in there. Plus, I highly doubt that they'd let me have the internet on it, and with a computer in my room, if I had to type an english paper, per se, they'd be all "do it on your computer" and I wouldn't be able to get on the internet nearly as much. And that's really mostly what I do on the computer besides schoolwork, which mostly requires the internet anyway.

Whatever. To summarize, I can't handle change so the room moving is freaking me out even though I should be old enough to handle this kind of thing. The entire situation right now is affecting me badly, and I think I really realized how much I've been stressing out about things in that I was in bed at about 3 in the morning but couldn't get to sleep. All night. And this isn't the first time that this has been happening recently. I finally got up at like 5:30 to take a shower and such, because I was coughing (and thus, every time, waking myself up just as I was about to fall asleep) from the dumb cold that I thought I was over but still continues to affect me when I lie down and just generally not able to fall asleep. And I'm being all pissy and overreacting because I'm PMSing like a bitch right now. I think this is the only time that I've ever been pleased, though, that I feel like my uterus is trying to stab its way through my abdominal wall, because this means that I'll be able to start taking the birth control crap soon, which should make next month not suck nearly as badly. It also means, however, that today is pretty much the last time I can eat for the rest of my life because of the dumb weight gain that comes with it. Sadness.

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Oh. And stuff that is just random and not related at all to anything and some of which is quite possibly too much information. Being on the subject of dreams.

I've been having dreams lately. Usually I don't have them except for very rarely, and I've gotten 4 in just like two weeks. And they're odd. Some of them have been, for lack of a better word, sex dreams. Which is interesting. Only one of them, the one about a week or two ago, was actually all with the explicit sexing that I can remember (but then it turned out that that was really just a plot device for the rest of the dream, being that my mum found out and refused to ever let me stay home from school again because she figured that was what I was doing when I was home alone), but it was freaking threesome sex. Weirdness. Het-ish, too. Not so much me with the het, as I was more over the other chick in the few short seconds of actual sexing I can remember, but the chick was all with the shagging of Charlie, from Numb3rs. Who's cute, I admit. I'd probably do him. Still. Kinda my first dream that had actual explicit sexing (I can only remember like a 3 second flash of it) in it, which is interesting.

Then there was the one where there was a play being put on, but I wasn't in it, and it was somewhere weird, not any kind of place/stage/location that I could identify. The situation (not the play, but all the actors and where we were) had a lot to do with the military, and there was a tone of me being the doctor who shouldn't really be out in the field with them (if it was so dangerous that I needed protected, why they were putting on a play I don't know) because there were enemies about or some such. But both the director type of the play and my self-assigned protector was totally Kara Thrace, from Battlestar Galactica (yeah, TV people show up a lot in my dreams. I had watched the season 3 bloopers again that night just for fun, which I assume was the reason it was her). And there was obvious sexual tension between Kara and I. I don't remember if it was a we're obviously going to get together thing or a we're already together thing, but it was nice. I remember that she made me feel protected and such. Which was nice.

And then there was the other one the same night (actually, morning, after I went back to sleep after waking up at like 5:30) that was also quite odd. It was elevator weirdness. There were creepy/odd lift malfunctions going up and down some building. And there was more threesome sex, but it was completely implied, I think (I don't have any memory of explicitness like I do in the Numbers one) and all women, one of whom was Abby Lockhart from ER. And I got the impression that it was a bit hurt/comfort sex, that Abby was angsting for some reason and (I'm pretty sure that I knew the other one was Susan Lewis, from the same show, but it really didn't look like her very much) Susan was a bit also, but not as much, and we were all sort of *deangsts each other through elevator sexing*. And I don't know if I'm combining this with another weird elevator dream (they seem to be in my dreams a lot, and nearly always screwing up in some capacity) but just as I was typing this I got this memoryflash thing of one of the floors the lift went to that was towards the bottom of whatever building and had some big sunken in/in ground/whatever it's called hot tub thing (though large enough to be a small swimming pool and could be used as such). But I seem to think that's from a different time. I don't remember anything else for definite about the h/c elevator one from Monday morning except that that the lift acted all funny, particularly loosing gravity at some point. Which was odd.

I just realized that I said I'd talk more about my muppet dream from a few weeks ago, and never did. Might as well make this a compendium dream post. This was on the Sunday night, I believe, before my theatre performance. It was a musical, in the beginning, of sorts, in the style of BtVS's "Once More With Feeling" rather than a real stage musical. There was a muppet female in a military dress uniform (I don't remember noticing what branch) and she was singing with Doug, who is in my bio class (and various other classes in years past). They were in love, and she was being deployed to Iraq and was all sad. I remember one of her lines was something like "I'm an officer, they shouldn't have to rip me away from you," because she was all not with the wanting to go because of love, but duty, country, yadda yadda and she had to. But that was in like the hallway of the mall right outside a bookstore. They're still outside working stuff out, Doug and the muppet (whom I originally decided to call Zoe, even though she didn't look like the Zoe on Sesame Street, because that's the name that popped into my head when trying to describe her, but in retrospect, she looked more like Rosita), and I go into the bookstore and see my friend Rachel at a table in there. I go up to her, and sort of glance down at what she's doing and she's got her assignment/date book (though it wasn't the one she actually uses because my dream took a little artistic license as it needed to have a calendar in there) and my theatre performance thing is marked down for the Saturday. (And it took me until halfway through history class the day after I had the dream to realize that the date was wrong, as the theatre thing was actually going to be on Friday.) And I'm about to say something about how it's cool/flattering/whatever that she marked it down, when I notice that there are motivational quotes jotted down on the Saturdays. Which is probably because a) the calendar date book things that the school gives us have them in there and b) the guy that does the announcements has started sticking one or two (often really long) ones in there every day. But anyway. I thought that was interesting. Then, Bill O'Reilly comes over. Yeah, no idea where that came from. He's the owner of the store, and for some reason I had started to walk away a bit, to look at a rack of books, but then I hear that Rachel (dunno how they got to that point, as it was only a few seconds of me being in only semi-earshot) is about to explain her theory of life to him. I edge back over because I want to listen. But then I woke up, and I remember being quite sad because I wanted to know what her theory of life was. When I told Rachel this, she was disappointed also, because she said she would have liked for me to let her in on her theory of life.

So. Though only explicit sex in one of them and only for a moment and pretty much just as a plot device, the more recent three have all had sex/romance/whatever in them. I dream so rarely that it's odd enough that I've had this many this recently, and though it's not odd that there are undertones of romance (my Kara Thrace implied relationship thing is relatively common) it is different that I actually knew that there was sexing going on in the two of them.

(no subject)

I was reading Endgame, by Samuel Beckett, today in theatre, and I kinda really wanted to write apocalypse fic. Of the SG-1 persuasion, actually. Just because that's what popped into my head after the House idea that made no sense and had a plausibility level of zero. And the SG-1 idea wasn't horrid, actually, though I'd never be able to pull it off as I still don't know the fandom that well (I haven't had time to go back to trying to watch the DVDs of late, I'm still in the middle of season 4) and can't really write things of that sort that would get across the deepness that I'd like.

So. Evidently Teryl Rothery is credited as being the ISN reporter in the newest, yet to be released item in the Babylon 5 saga. And she's credited pretty high up on the IMDB list, she's third after only Sheridan and Lochley. Cool. That's another show I'm behind in. I'm all crazy about the beginning, but once it gets into the war, it doesn't interest me as much. I'm still right where I was at the end of the summer, the first disk of season four.

Must bed. I couldn't fall asleep last night for the life of me even though I didn't take a nap or anything (and usually even if I do nap, it's not ever a problem) due to coughing specifically and I don't know why but I'm assuming stress generally, so hopefully tonight will be better.

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Actually tried to go to bed at like 9:30, setting my alarm for 1 to get up and do some studying before going back to sleep. Didn't happen. This week I haven't been sleeping normally. (Normal for me, I mean. Normal is relative.) So I spent 2 hours back in bed trying to fall asleep, but feeling too lazy/tired to actually get up and do the studying then (humongo chem test tomorrow and Friday, on dumb Equilibrium covering like 4 chapters of material which I still haven't really gotten). Finally dragged myself up because my throat was starting to get sore, got water and an asprin, then decided to pluck my eyebrows. They weren't bad or anything, especially because they're essentially blonde, so I never really have to (and usually don't) but I did. No idea why. And then I painted my left hand's fingernails. Haven't gotten around to the right yet, because I'm right handed and so it's going to look horrible and this nail polish sucks. I bought it because I needed new black, and this said it was black, but in practice, it's more gray. It takes you either lumping it on or a bazillion coats to make it look black. Therefore, it's taking a long time to dry. It's dry enough that I can type (because my nails are so short that it's not like they get anywhere near anything I touch), but were I to actually touch the nail, it would get all fingerprinty and bad.

Yeah, typed that about an hour and a half ago, and then got to doing other stuff. So now I have 8 nails painted. I really hope there's nail polish remover in the house somewhere, because the polish is all over my hands. I'm so bad at this.

Well, er. Meme. Two, actually. Nicked from the journal of somebody from my Star Trek RPG site that I casually knew back when I was starting on there. I stumbled across her blog site (I don't remember what host it was) while trying to put a name to her user id, because I haven't talked to her for 2.5ish years and forget things like that.

( Dumb memish type things. )