If I fall asleep now…

I could sleep for about 3.5 hours before I have to get up to go to my little brother’s biathalon on Cape Cod.

I really hate not being able to sleep, though I brought this upon myself. My sleep cycle is WAY out of whack.

It all started on Wednesday evening when my flight out of Chicago was hideously delayed. First they were all “its only going to be another hour”  and I was like “Oh.. ok I guess that isn’t so bad!” The little seating area at the gate was chock full because the two flights before mine had also been delayed (this should have been my first clue that we would not be taking off in an hour…) But also people were being bastard dickheads and putting their luggage, purses, laptop bags etc on the seats next to them. Like…I understand and respect the idea of the buffer zone in most places, the airport though…most people don’t enjoy their airport time be sympathetic! Anyway, I found it very rude.

At first I sat on the floor and ate the pretzel sticks I had bought. It was from the Auntie Annies chain which I had never had before, as a New Englander I’m all about Preztel Time and after trying both I can say that PT is FAAAR superior. I also hate when the clerks are like half stoned teenaged boys. He could not take his eyes of my tits and my pretzels weren’t that great. BOO not worth it. After awhile I got bored and started essentially doing laps around the area of the airport, and bought myself a trashy Cosmo (which I always vow to never buy again but somehow always contradict myself only to open the magazine and go “oh christ this is stupid.”)

By the time we finally boarded it was a little over 2 hours from when we were supposed to take off. I promptly settled down and plugged my headphones in, in order to numb and distract my brain with the in flight tv. I got a yummy cranberry juice and I was actually feeling okay for once. Take off was smooth and  I thought “Maybe I finally kicked this fear of flying!!”

Then I started seeing the lightning. To make a terrifying long story short, we flew almost the entire time through a lightning storm. The lightning was so close it was literally right outside the window and the plane shook and dipped and dove. I was watching The Real Housewives of New York on Bravo and I remember thinking “if I die watching this show I’ll be so disappointed”

Miraculously we landed in Boston without a problem, at 1:05 am. By the time I finally found my dad and got my luggage at Logan It was almost 2 am. When I got home I couldn’t fall asleep of course because the near death experience of the flight had jacked my adrenaline way up and I’ve been a mess sleeping wise ever since.

Though I will say, having survived that flight I think I might not be so scared flying anymore… but knock on wood for me just in case.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Tomorrow I have to fly home.

Except not exactly home.

Because Chicago has started to feel a little like home.

And Amherst has started to feel a little like home.

And we have to sell the actual home, the place I would in theory “go home to.”

I wonder if this is just a “sarah’s life” thing or like a “I guess this is growing up *doo dododo dooo*” thing?

I really envy the people whose parents stay together and keep the same old house and all your things so you can go home for the holidays etc.

le sigh

I hate that when I get upset, or something bothers me I can’t just open my mouth and speak up. I want to, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to start a fight and I don’t want to rock the boat. I wish I could be less of a pushover.

Different

Tags

chicago, Distance, prof, Relationships

So right now I should probably be in the shower, but instead I’ve just eaten an ice cream sandwich in the Prof’s bed.

I’m sure he would not approve of eating such a thing, or anything really, in his bed but I was really hungry and the bed is so comfortable. (I didn’t make a mess of any kind, not a crumb, don’t worry.)

I picked an ice cream sandwich of all things because I knew exactly where they were (second shelf in the freezer) and I didn’t want to rummage around the cabinets or the fridge or the drawers because the Prof’s roommates are home in their respective rooms and I don’t want to draw any attention to myself. Grab the ice cream sandwich, in and out, quiet as a mouse.

Also ice cream sandwiches are delicious and I feel I deserve something yummy because I just sat through a reading of what might possibly be the most “blah” play I have ever heard of.

It felt really nice to do something with the Prof this morning though, even though it was actually mind numbingly dull.

I guess “do” is a bad word? I feel like in a long distance relationship (I shouldn’t generalize) in my long distance relationship I worry (there’s that damn word again) that we don’t work outside the time we spend together, which always feels like a wonderful vacation. We usually lounge, watch movies, have sex, eat yummy things etc. And it feels really blissful. But that isn’t every day life. Or maybe it is and we’re just really really really lucky? Either way I like when we get to live our lives together sometimes instead of taking a break from them.

For instance, this morning we woke up at 8 am (I knooooowww I know. I’m shocked too) to go to a table reading of a new play the Prof’s playwright friend has asked him to direct. We got up and dressed and out the door. Walked to get a train pass, rode the train, went to this guy’s awesome apartment and then there was the reading blah blah blah. The reading ends, we book it out of there. The Prof has to go to his next rehearsal for another staged reading that will happen later tonight (the thing I really should be showering for right now) and I went back to his apartment on a different train and we’ll meet up again in a couple of hours.

Now if that was boring for you to read, which I’m sure it was, that makes me happy. It makes me happy that he still makes me happy when we are simply commuting from one place to another. When we are swapping keys and going over plans no matter how mundane.

And the way that I miss him now, as opposed to how I miss him when we’re truly apart, it is SO different. I still miss him but there’s also this lovely comfort in it. He is gone but he will be back soon, and by soon I mean hours not days or weeks or months.

I really prefer this kind of waiting to the alternative.

One would think….

That after this year I would have conquered my fear of flying.

Yes.

That would make sense.

Except I’m still scared.

I do not want to take off

I do not want to land

I do not want to be suspended in the air in a giant hunk of flammable metal

I do not want to struggle to put my crap in the overhead compartment while people stand behind me waiting to board

I do not want to read the plastic card that shows you what to do in case of an emergency.

You know they don’t put words on the damn cards, just pictures. I like words. I like extra explanation.

I do not want to sit there freaking out while nobody else listens to the in case of emergency speech.

Why does nobody listen?! Don’t they know we could totally crash into the ocean!?

I don’t even want to go through security. I’m always terrified I’ll be accidentally carrying a switch blade or someone slipped anthrax in my pocket.

Actually. The only thing I like about the airport is the smell of pretzel time. Of course I’m always too nauseated to actually eat one. But you can’t beat that delicious smell.

Good thing there’s a boyfriend at the end of the airline crapolah festival that is flying.

Otherwise I’d totally want my money back.

I

hate how sometimes I feel like the only person in the world who is willing to sacrifice.

Maybe I just ought to say “no” more often.

I wish I could just do whatever I want, or not do whatever I want and not feel guilty like most people can.

But I’m just not built that way.

A Scene from my Living Room…

Roommate: I heard a rumor that Betty White is dating Morgan Freeman.

Girl I don’t know: Is Morgan Freeman a girl?

Future Roommate whom I did not pick: No he’s just a black guy with freckles.

end scene.

A couple of things….

1. Dear Hipsters in the theater dept hanging on the stairs smoking cigs. You are worthless. That is all.

2. I hate getting a parking ticket when I had every intention of parking at a paid meter. The pay lot was totally full! I had no other choice! Now I’m gonna have to shell out 25 buckeroos. Lame.

3. I think (AHH DON’T JINX MEEE) that I may have just ACED my social psychology test. So yay on that!

(is it weird that I figure if I get a good grade on my exam I’ll be ok with having to pay 25 dollars to parking services? It’ll be like buying a a good grade!)

4.  Dunkin’ Donuts has these new things called Bagel Twists. All it is, is a bagel in a stick form. For some reason though they taste better than regular bagels.

but

5. I don’t want to KNOW how many calories are in of those delicious twists.

6. My showcase is tonight. I’m nervy 😦

I enjoy being a girl.

Dear whoever actually reads this and by some miracle might be of the male persuasion. I’m about to talk about periods. Consider yourself warned.

I LOVE being female. For many reasons. Except this whole period thing.

I woke up at 7:50 am today because the hellfire in my uterus was soooooo intense it woke me from a deep sleep.

I would like to take this time to tell you all that I recently slept through every smoke detector in my house going off. ALL 8 OF THEM.

So I think you can imagine how painful this was.

But in case you can’t here’s a fun descriptive image: It felt like someone was tightening a vice around my lower abdomen while simultaneously kicking me in the lower back with a steel toe boot that happened to be on fire.

Tra la la I enjoyyyyyy being a girl! (thats a song from the musical The Flower Drum Song, which I did my first tap dance to at age 7 in a giant hot pink dress with a floppy hat and a white feather boa. Yes. It was just as adorable as it sounds and we won a gold medal.)

So I lay there and I contemplated my fate. The pain was so bad I couldn’t imagine doing anything other than what I was, writhing around in my bed in pain, let alone standing up to shove 6 motrin down my throat and warming the heating pad in the microwave.

I knew that in order to have any hope of feeling better I needed to get my ass out of bed and do it. And somehow I managed, whimpering, to do it.

And as I lay on the floor in front of the microwave, feeling like I might die any second, I thought about tiny adorable babies. And how I had better be able to have one for all this damn trouble.

I also thought how nice it would be to have a butler to heat the damn thing for me.

Because my kitchen floor is DISGUSTING to lay on.

Oh! Did I mention I then had to lay on the heating pad when it is about 90 degrees and atrociously humid here?

Needless to say I’m not holding out a lot of hope for today.

Dearest Roommate

I do not like to hear Disney stars Aly and Aj blasting from our stereo.

I LIKE IT EVEN LESS AT 2 AM.

WTF.