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Ah will NEVER understand people. Seriously. Who the fuck reaches out and grabs someone's hair and goes "OHMYGAWD IS THAT NATURAL?" in a high pitched squeal, as they be tugging on my white hairs. Seriously. grow up. Leave mah hair alone. Don't touch. Don't gawk. Ah've got ENOUGH problems, ah don't need yer damn advice "oh dye it to match the rest?" ah tried that once. it didn't take. Ah don't need to hear six different types of dye to try. Get yer damn hands off my damn hair.

This is not the first time today that's happened, either. Are people in a mood or something ta be annoying?

Who's already got their house decorated for Halloween? Plus a costume for herself, and one for her dog? Yeaaaaah, this girl. I can't WAIT.

Oh, hey, my dog's still talking.

And I still speak Urdu.

Ithoughteverythingwasnormalagain.

I killed a dog today.

He was a big bastard, a German Shepherd. The owner was walking him in the park, then...I don't know what happened in it's head, but the shep bolted. He tore away so fast and suddenly that the chain ripped up the owner's palm and the dog just raged through the muzzle.

The dog headed right for a family barbecue, barking and snapping. It chomped down on some kid's arm pretty bad and tried to drag him away. He was just some ten-year-old, crying and wetting himself while the father tried to pull him away. Looked like a tug of war to me, and it wasn't going to end well so I grabbed the barbecue fork and put it in the dog's head.

I don't like killing some animals. Dogs are good creatures: loyal, strong. It didn't feel good killing it. I felt better when I walked up to the owner afterwards and knocked him out.

..tinfoil actually works!

Oh, hey, animals are talking to me again. And I randomly understand Greek.

In other news, the cabbie I just had is a gross Greek jerkface.

I just tried flying. I just bloody flew. It was terrifying!

With some extra help at the ranch, I can start to relax again. Of course knowing me, I'll just volunteer elsewhere and resume driving myself bloody crazy.

Anyone ever really want to punch someone through a wall? But you can't because it's not really their fault you want to punch them. Or at least they haven't remembered yet.

Asking for a friend.

No matter what happens in my life, as long as I have my dorky dog Daisy grinning at me like this in the morning when I wake up to train, life is good.

Speaking of training - does anyone else on here surf? Some mornings it gets so freakin' cold, it'd be nice to have someone out there to grumble with. I can also teach people who want to learn. Despite what you'd think, surfing doesn't really have an 'off' season.

I think I desperately need to get out of my house. I cannot handle the silence as well as I had hoped this week. Anyone want lunch on me? I think human contact is needed.

So nice to have a change of scenery. Finally have all my things moved into my shiny new office at UCLA, and, I have to admit, I'm really rather excited. Fresh faces, new colleagues, I think it should be a wonderful good time.

Well. As wonderful as lecturing a room of idiots morons twenty-somethings who hardly pay attention can be.

Well, at least I knew the change was coming.

Saturday night. And I've become the person who's sitting on my computer and updating the internet with news about the fact that I am so fucking clearly not doing a thing. That must be obvious, though. No one updates the internet when they have real things to be doing.

I mean. I fed my dog. The little wanker isn't even grateful.

Bollocks.

People get way too bent outta shape over being given the wrong size drink. I can't be expected to hear a pig fart through that drive-thru speaker, even if someone plastered the pig's ass against it, OK? It sounds like ZZZZTZZZT-ra LARGE PEPSI-ZZZT-BZZZZZZZZZZZZZ makes me want to stab myself in the face with a plastic spoon ZZZZZZSSSSSSSTTTTstaticZZSST.

So ya got a large drink instead of an extra large? Big deal. Learn to pronunciate or talk louder, dammit. You think someone would figure that out after I say "WHAT?!" fifty billion friggin' times.

I did not miss panic attacks when I was in Billy's body. Stupid brain. I'd like to petition for a new one, this one is clearly defective.

Oh, thank God for boobs.

These dreams are going to quite literally drive me crazy. I can't wake up and feel this way every day, I just can't.

I'm married.

I'm fucking married.

I have no idea how to express my joy except capslock. So I'm sorry in advance.

I GOT INVITED TO MAVERICKS FOR THIS YEAR

IT'S ONLY THE BIGGEST BIG WAVE SURFING COMPETITION

L;AKDJL;KJSA;KD

I'm so excited I feel like a little dog, I'm all shaky and ready to pee on things at any moment. Except not really the second one. I hope.

Maybe I can get a 60 footer this year!

I'm curious about something. Has anyone ever made a significant life change based on these dreams?

( Trigger warning for violence, death of NPC in dreams. )

You know, I always thought that randomly having a squirrel live in my kitchen pantry would be way more whimsical. But then I learned that squirrels are basically part of the rodent Mafia and now this guy is holding my Cheerios hostage.

This means war, Nutsy.

I am so freakin happy right now!!! The best thing ever happened last night! When I got home from Gendry's I went right to bed and I had more dreams. The dreams weren't that great except for the part where I was kind of a bad ass, but anyway, when I woke up, I was kind of down cause of how the dream ended and then NYMERIA jumped up on my bed. NYMERIA MY DIREWOLF!! In the dream, I had to send her away, but she's here now. I ran downstairs with her this morning and I think my mother almost had a heart attack. I don't know what my parents will do if another direwolf shows up. Of course for that to happen, Jon, Robb or Rickon need to start dreaming.

So, if anyone needs me today, I'll be outside with Nymeria.

Oh! Does anyone know anything about wolf training? I know Sansa would want me to ask.

If anyone needs any extra medical assistance after the events of the past few weeks, the staff at Irvine General are working around the clock to see to everyone's needs.

This is, without a doubt, the stupidest holiday "tradition" yet, and for a holiday that technically isn't.

Do you realize that the declaration of independence was actually signed on July 2nd? And that blowing things up does not, in fact, mean anything other than annoying the shit out of your neighbors, terrifying animals and small children and just...

Have your picnics, your reminders of why being American is important to you, your celebration of that fact. Those things are far different. Those things are important and if the way we choose to celebrating is picnicking and barbecues and remembering, then go ahead and do it. It's not the holiday itself that I object to, really.

But why, GOD why, do we have to bring the firework mess into all this? You know that some of us are working, right?

( Trigger warning for noncon, implied rape. )

I don't know if I can go to work today, I keep throwing up.

In my dreams I make a demon human for a moment - just a moment - long enough to escape Hell. And apparently he never forgets it. Twenty years have passed in my dreams, because when I first started having them, dream Me looked like how I did when I was a teenager but now she looks like me and a demon told me that he's still looking for me.

Elliot Spencer still wants me in my dreams and there's nothing I can do but try to fight back until he gets me. It's bad enough I'm fighting shit when I'm awake, but now when I sleep I have to fight too. Has anyone thought of making a Nightmare Before Elm Street type pill that prevents us from dreaming?

I grew up in Portland, Maine, but somehow, I never became aware of the North American Wife Carrying Competition that was annually held in Newry, about two hours away. Apparently a couple wins the wife's weight in beer, and five times her weight in cash.

I do accept that that's a substantial weight of cash. It might be the only sport I can see a point in, though I'm not sure I'd try it myself. ... I mean, I have no wife, but still.

Is it weird that I didn't throw a party or whatever for graduating high school? I just always figured it would, it wasn't really in question. And I start college in August, so it's not like I'm free from something. Just a little bit older now.

I'll probably feel differently when I graduate college, but for now, I'm just going to enjoy sleeping in from time to time while I still can.

Between being threatened by a walking pile of neuroses and worrying about something coming up in my personal life, I've been under a bit of stress. So, I sincerely thought I was going crazy this morning when my dog Winston appeared to ask me for fresh water. In English.

Now that I know I'm not crazy, I do have a bit of a problem, though. I'm used to quiet, plus the occasional bark. What I am not used to is seven voices loudly chattering amongst themselves. Haven't had a meltdown that bad in years.

Would anyone be willing to give two or three dogs a temporary home for however long this lasts? These things tend to be transient, but still. I can't demand they be quiet all the time, but I can't live with what sounds like a very loud party in my house at all times.

I have officially had it with my dreams.

I wore my crazy dream-aunt's skin to fool a demon and make out with him long enough to kill him. Seriously. Head to toe wearing someone's entire body skin and it was gross and goopy and did I mention giving a demon tongue?

I'm getting very tired of the police. Detectives who think they're stepped off the set of The Bill. They try to pressure me, push me, even lightly threaten me....and it never works.

Being a lawyer means I put my own feelings or prejudices to bed: it doesn't matter if they're a serial killer or a little girl, they will get the same treatment....depending on what they'll respond to. With children, you either have to coddle them or get aggressive. They're not overly complicated. Of course, criminals themselves are rarely complicated.

For all the detectives, police officers and fat sweaty security guards out there: please, try and be professional.

Does it seem extremely prideful of me to think I might actually be able to do a better criminal profile than the fool on this television show? I mean, I was a policeman in my dreams, and worked in a crime lab, but I didn't finish graduate school. I don't recall any profiling experience in my dreams. And even if I did, well. They're still dreams.

It just seems ridiculous. ( tw: discussion of criminology and murder/postmortem gore ) Overkill requires personalization and deep rage - how can someone have that deep a rage against someone they've just met?

Maybe I should just stop watching true crime shows.

(ooc: trigger warning: discussion of violence & sexual assault in comments)

It is an odd mood I am in tonight. Thinking on magic and on travel, on dreams and on beaches and fields.

( Cut for possible triggery conversation mentioning death. )

Introductions always seem false and awkward. We just rattle off some vague, sanitized information in the hopes we don't offend potential 'friends'. I'll try to avoid that if I can.

I'm Sandor Clegane, I'm from England, I was a soldier and now I'm not. My face got burned when I was a boy. I like to drink and fight and watch women's tennis. That's that.

This is the best day of my rotten life. I found this in a bin.

Earlier this week, I myself experienced the most frightening dreams. So unsettling in fact that it's taken me this long to gather my thoughts together and discuss them. But I know that it is better to let something painful out into the open than to hold it in, and so I'll do my best to share them with you.

Now that I am all settled in, I suppose I should look for a job.

Do newspapers still exist have classifieds in them still, or is it mostly all done online now?

Are nightmares just endemic here? I dreamed my biodad slit my throat.

To those I inadvertently offended:

( Cut for discussion of violence/nonconsensual acts )

I have since become aware that there is a colloquial definition for the term, which does in retrospect make the police use of that word quite offensive. I can adapt my own usage, and will, when discussing the subject in a colloquial way. I had no intention of offending anyone, and regret that I did. I never try to be deliberately cruel.

This is why I prefer dogs.

How do you know if you're gay? I mean, not all the way, this person still likes girls, but he might have fooled around with a guy and really liked it.

It's for a friend.

Anyone else want to punch their dream selves in the face for being stupid? Seriously, dream me runs into Hell on purpose. Anyone else would go "oh, is that a doorway to Hell? No thank you!" but dream me just sort of heads on in.

She also has really bad 80s hair, but real me had that too. Can't fault her for that.

I really wish people would tag their NSFW Tumblr posts that way. I almost traumatized Daddy with gay porn today.

I seem to have adopted a dog. One of my more idiotic clients - who's been fired, never you worry - decided that it sheds too much, so she told me to have it "put down or something".

Some people's children.

I wonder if I shouldn't go see a therapist for my dreams. I mean, I wouldn't have to tell them about how they're ... too real, right? and how I have the box and I swear it's calling to me

No, really, the dreams where I'm using my awesome computer superpowers to help track down serial killers and arsonists and rapists and ick can stop at any time now. It's enough to give a girl insomnia.

And what ridiculous thing is this? The new Facebook? Linkedin?

If it's Twitter, I'm deleting this thing right away. Attention spans are short enough as it is, we don't need to encourage it. Half of my students are incapable of sitting through a lecture as it stands.

Holy shit.

I'm engaged. And it's not even April Fool's.

I resisted inquiring about this for some time, but I don't suppose anyone might have a line on a therapist who isn't prone to self-indulgent idiocy? Therapy is most definitely an acquired taste, but I have yet to acquire it. And yet I can't continue this way.

My name is Will Graham, and I was recommended to this network by a professional acquaintance. I train dogs for a living - I find them a fair amount kinder than people, most days. Though in the interests of full disclosure, I probably ought to state that if your dog is named Muffy and you're fond of kicking her when she misbehaves, I will seize possession of the dog and risk the misdemeanor.