In Which a Typewriter Saves the Day

Not really.

But I had a dream last night where it did.

I was at work talking to my boss when someone from corporate came in, and he was upset about some fax that he didn't receive, so my boss told him to have it sent to our store. It was something about a test that everyone in the industry was supposed to take, like SATs for retail (wow, that would really suck). Somehow the test had been compromised, or was in danger of being compromised, and they had to add extra answers to every question to prevent people from cheating. I'm not sure how that would prevent cheating, but it had something to do with math and averages and I have no idea what my brain does when I'm asleep, so I just went with it. It sounded complicated at the time.

Anyway, they couldn't put the test on a computer, because it would be too easy to hack, so everything had to be done by hand.

"Oh," I said, "You can use one of my typewriters!"

(Doesn't everyone keep their entire typewriter collection at work? No?)

So the guy picked out the Royal KMM and started pecking away, until I volunteered to use my lightening-fast typing skills to help him out.

It was an utterly ridiculous dream, but I woke up feeling like a super hero.

(This post could also be titled: Go Home, Brain, You are Drunk. My head has been in a weird place the last few days...)

Unplanned

Click to make it bigger.

I dream lo-tech and the Bing; Life in a Typewriter Shop and the post featuring the Remington.

Sweet dreams.

Typewriters at Bedtime

Reading: Treasure Island
Watching: Get Smart the Movie

Just to clarify: When I mentioned the podcast, I was intending to do it myself. The think is, with being so new to the hobby, I would like to see more listener participation than I have with the podcasts I've produced previously (writing in, comments/questions, things like that).

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I had an awesome dream last night and had to share.

In the dream, I was back in London, walking through St. James Park, and someone had created a huge typewriter display for the public. These weren't normal typewriters, though. According the posted historical information, they would be provided in airports or train stations for travelers to write letters, similar to the way they now provide wifi or internet cafes. Most of them were portables, only about eight inches wide, with a coin slot at the top over the type basket and another out in front where the keyboard should be. One would insert a dime, and a tiny disposable keyboard would pop out (I have no idea why they were disposable. I imagine it was for sanitation issues since hand sanitizer didn't exist in the 1950s and my brain was trying to compensate).

This bit of the dream was followed up by myself and two friends fighting a demon, and the only one powerful enough to banish it back to hell was the Queen. Which of course meant that we had to kidnap her (because she wouldn't be willing to defend her country on her own? I dunno). She was a lovely woman and quite feisty.

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Also: my cat has the hiccups. It is adorable. I didn't even know cats could GET hiccups, but he seems to regularly. He might not be amused, but I am. :)

Not-so secret squirrels

So I had this dream last night. In it, we drove up to visit my great-grandma, who was "pleasantly confused," as my mom would put it (early Alzheimer's). She was living in this dingy apartment, and had half a dozen pet squirrels running around. Okay, we thought, it's kind of weird that she put clothes on them, but she's senile, so whatever. We visit, we talk, we take care of her for a while, and then we decide to go home, except the crap car that we drove up is broken down in the parking lot. Luckily, a good Samaritan stopped to give us a lift--on the U.S.S. Enterprise.

Well, there was a tag along--one of the squirrels. And wouldn't you know it, it wasn't a normal squirrel, but an alien! The squirrels took over the ship. They were everywhere. Hundreds of little fuzzy aliens running around in Star Fleet uniforms. And there was a Kirk squirrel. Don't ask me why. He was hilarious, kept flirting with me and my mom. He was also kind enough to take us home before zipping off to Star Fleet headquarters to take it over. But hey, who am I to question squirrel logic?

Anywhere but here

Sometimes, when I'm driving on the freeway into Columbus, coming home, or walking the few blocks down Cleveland or Grant to the library, I imagine that I am in Montreal, or London, or Paris. Even New York, so long as it's not Columbus, not Ohio, not the midwest. I can almost fool myself for about three seconds.

I've lived in a small Ohio town my whole life. Going to the city for school was one of the best decisions I ever made, but this town is so industrial, dirty. The people have been mostly rude. I can't walk through the park without looking over my shoulder. Every person around every bend is a potential serial killer or purse snatcher. I don't have dozens of keychains on my carabeaner because they're cute, I have dozens of keychairs because if I put my fingers through the carabeaner, I can swing it around like a short metal flail and inflict quite a bit of damage to an attackers face.

The other day I went for a walk through a local park. It's less than three blocks away. As I went through my route, no less than three times did I think someone would kill me.

Supposingly, Columbus has a fairly low crime rate. We're supposed to be a pretty safe city. But I felt so much safer in Montreal. I didn't know the language. I didn't know the layout. But as long as I was standing by the front door before the sun set, I felt safe. Up there, you see families on the streets and in the parks. Here, everyone but the homeless people and a few stray joggers stay indoors. People will nodd and smile to you on the street in Montreal, and here, you look straight ahead. Do not make eye contact, ever.

This city is stagnent. I want out, and I hope to God/dess that I get accepted to the Study Abroad program so I can get the hell out. I don't think I can take another semester in this city.