I <3 my inbox

It's so much easier to wake up in the morning when you have something to look forward to. 

The way I see it

... having realized the book was not where she'd left it Jenny proceeded into the living room to continue looking. It was not on the coffee table or in the couch or on the floor or on the shelf, but on her desk next to a half empty cup of tea. She picked it up and began reading it once again...

I don't see life how everyone else sees it. I see it as one giant script with characters and a plot and a specific formula for how relationships and certain situations should work. Everything has to have a certain amount of comedy and a certain amount of drama or it's not worth going through. Movies are not life. Books are not life. No form of media is ever even 50% accurate in terms of how it portrays life. My life, however likes to follow the laws of a good plot or so it seems. I don't think the way you think and I don't see things the way you see them; my mind works differently from yours. I see people having fun while I miss out and I automatically assume that what I'm missing out on is far better than it actually is. I don't think anyone except the select few who think the way I do will ever be able to fully understand me. I am a glass half empty person who tends to assume the worst. I am an emotionally restricted person who for one reason or another never cries, especially in front of people. I am not spontaneous though I'd like to be and I'm really bad when it comes to talking about certain things. I am the average person, though I like to admit, a little weird too, and i make all the same mistakes everyone else does. I have eyebrows with minds of their own that are currently set to don't not attack mode  and I need a new teddy bear. Details on that last sentence are reserved for those who care enough to already have an idea of what it means. Basically, what I'm saying is that I am very much my own person and forgive me for this, but there are very few people who will actually ever understand me and who I will actually ever understand. Like I said, I see people as characters and their lives as back stories. I see life as a series of chapters in a book and scenes in a movie. My view of reality is distorted though some may say it is a gift. Next time I see you it may or may not be me. It could be one version of me; a version from an earlier chapter or perhaps a more mature version you have not yet met. I don't know who I channel on a daily basis or what experiences I'm calling upon because i write my script with every step and every word as they come. I can't rewind and I can't fast forward so I just have to let life play and once I finally get to the last scene I'm sure it will be one to remember. 

I HATE Airports

I HATE AIRPORTS!!!!!!!!!!!!
First thing's first: having a seven hour layover in the Newark Airport sucks ASS! phew... ok out of my system (NOT!) They won't let us into the presidents club because my dad isn't with us and apparently his lifetime membership that they gave him like twenty years ago doesn't apply to his immediate family unless he's present. Needless to say I had one of those moments where I visualize myself jumping the counter and smashing the attendant's face into the computer only to realize a half second later that I'd only imagined doing it and walk glumly down the stairs to join the rest of the common folk. Yes, it's a tangent and yes I'm aware my grammar went in all kinds of weird and incorrect directions but I've been up since well, for most of you, yesterday night so I really don't give a rat's ass about my grammar or lack thereof. I did just use thereof though so that's got to count for something. Scotland, all in all, was pretty awesome and no, I didn't blog everyday like I said I would. I also didn't include very much detail when i did blog because, let's face it, I suck at writing about places I visit. It's one of those "you had to be there" kind of things. I mean, things will happen during the day that I'm sure are going to be hilarious later and then when I sit down to write them I say to myself, "Well Fuck, that wasn't that funny after all."

So there you have it... I'm stuck in an airport with nothing interesting to do. I considered stealing one of the courtesy cart things but getting detained won't help to expedite my travel so... :P. AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! I just screamed a little bit inside. you really needed to know that I'm sure.

My thought process is slowing down meaning, I think, that my Starbucks frozen thingy that I'm pretty sure I stole from someone else is wearing off. Before you accuse me of petty theft and disown me I need to clarify that the lady handed me two drinks and shoved me out of the way so i just left. I only ordered an iced tea but I ended up with that and my frozen coffee thing so I drank them both to keep from keeling over and went on my hyperactive merry way. 8D
I also have some Scottish sugar cubes in my bag... I think I'll eat those and see what happens. For those of you that know me well, and those of you that don't, I'm bound to get into a wee bit of mischief now! Mwahahaha!

Toodles!

xoxo
E

Fact vs. Fiction

Every day she sits there, just waiting to see if maybe today, it'll come. She checks over and over, again and again, but every time she comes up empty. She stands up, her chair swiveling under her momentum. Today was yet another lost day in her mind, and nothing could change that, it was midnight after all and now she had today for her luck to change. Her bed was soft, yet firm enough that it allowed her comfortable sleep. She pulled the sheets up to her neck and kicked her comforter onto the floor. The temperature was alway extreme in her room, never just right. Tonight, or should I say, this morning, it was far too hot. She lay there, staring at the shadows on her ceiling, the glow from her bedside lamp keeping her awake for awhile. Click... darkness. Finally, her eyes closed and her mind drifted away.

She leaned forward and pressed the power switch, her alarm clock still ringing somewhere in her room. She really must stop swatting it when it goes off in the morning. She had learned patience in her 25 years of existence, and it came in handy quite often, especially now. Her desktop finished loading and shortly thereafter so did her internet. A few clicks of the mouse and there she was again, staring, looking for something that just refused to be there. "It never hurts to check this early," she thought closing the screen in dismay. So went her morning routine: Swat alarm clock, check email, use bathroom, clean up, eat breakfast and be off to work by 7:47 on the dot.

Work was no picnic either. She never knew what she was going to do on any given day. She wasn't trained in anything specific so she just did whatever the professionals told her to. Some days that meant backing up files, other days it meant minding her own business while everyone rushed to get things finished around her. Today was one of those days. Today was the worst kind of torture. She always had her computer with her no matter where she went, so the days when she had nothing to do, she sat and she stared. "It'll come today." but it didn't. It didn't come this morning, it didn't come during work, and it most certainly didn't come after she went home.

Walking down the hallway after dinner, she caught a glimpse of someone in the mirror. It wasn't her. It couldn't be, she wasn't old or tired. She looked closer and began to see familiar features: there was a hint of green in her eyes. A freckle on the tip of her nose. "Why?" She knew precisely why. She knew that all this waiting and hoping was not an act of optimism, but an act of desperation. She had to end it, though she wasn't sure how. "Just tonight," she though, "Tonight and it's over."

11:50. Ten more minutes of agony and she would be finished, rid of this disease forever. She checked again... nothing. By now she wanted there to be nothing, she didn't want something because something would only prolong her agony, start it all over again in a vicious never-ending cycle. "Don't be there," she whispered as she refreshed the page yet again. "Don't be there." Five minutes were all that were left of the day, five minutes. She stood up, wringing her hands nervously as her bare feet carried her again and again across the tweed carpet. "I won't do it. I won't, not until midnight. Then it'll all be over."

12:00. She wasn't still enough to sit so she leaned down placing her right index finger atop the mouse. "Harder," she thought and the mouse responded instantly. Her screen loaded and there it was, exactly what she had been waiting for, nothing. A deep breath passed between her lips as she sat down on the edge of her bed. Seconds later she was out.

12:01. It came at 12:01 that morning, the message she had looked for all along. It said everything she had hoped it would say. It contained the one thing that would've ended her suffering had she not chosen to end it herself. She never saw it though. She didn't wake up when her sister ran in yelling at 8:15 in the morning. She didn't wake up when the paramedics tried to revive her. The aspirin had done its job and taken her pain away. As they wheeled her out, her sister glanced at the open laptop still on the desk. She moved the mouse. There was one new message in the Inbox. Open. "I'm Sorry."

Who needs sleep?

"Can't sleep," I ask politely.
"No. I"m doing work though, actually."
"Oh, I'm doing this because I can't sleep. If I turn a light on to read, I might as well kiss sleep goodbye. There's nothing on tv, not that I watch much anyway but... that leaves me with this."
"You don't need a light to be on your computer?"
"Nope. :) The glow from the screen illuminates the keyboard."
"Oh."
"So, what are you working on?"
No answer... five minutes later, still no answer.

Maybe she's busy. Maybe she fell asleep. No you idiot, she probably doesn't want to talk to you because she doesn't like you. Oh! New comment!

"I'm just working on a bunch of different things, nothing specific."

"Oh, I see. Look, I'm really enjoying this, but if you don't want me to bother you anymore I can get off..."

"What? Oh, no it's fine. It's a distraction, a pleasant one at that. I really don't mind at all."

She minds, I know she minds. I wouldn't want to talk to me at 2 in the morning if I was doing work. I really should let her be... oh but I can't, I want to talk...

"Ok, but um, you know stop me at any time. So, it's 2:15, what does that make it where you are?"

"It's 1:15 here. Why aren't you sleeping again?"

"I just can't. I've always been a bit of an insomniac. you know what I wish though..."

"No, what?"

"I wish I could pull my truck out of the garage, drive to the end of the block, park and just chill in the bed, under the stars. I really wish I could."

"Why don't you then? It sounds nice to me too."

"My parents would freak if I just left in the middle of the night. The only time I can actually do that is when my friends are here and we stay up all night."

"Oh, I see. But I guess if you were out under the stars we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?"

"No, we wouldn't. Oh shit, my computer's about to die. Could we continue this tomorrow?"

"Sure thing. Good luck sleeping!"

"Thanks and good luck with your work."

That's a conversation I had a while ago with a friend of mine, the italics represent my though process. If you can't sleep and you can't think of anything to do, get in touch with me during the wee hours of the night. Chances are I'm still awake and I'm really quite reasonable during those hours.