I'm the only person I know who takes naps at night. I fell asleep around 10 and woke back up around 11:30 with a headache. I decided to stay in bed and work on finishing Don Millers "Through Painted Deserts."
Around 12 0'clock between chapters 20 and 21 I started thinking about this historical house nearby that I'd been wanting to visit. I thought about how cool it would be to take my book and finish it sitting on the porch in the cold night air.
So I got up and threw a hoodie and some jeans on over my nightgown. (Yes I am THAT lazy!). I grabbed a pair of argyle socks because everyone knows that if you are about to break the law or do something you might regret in the daylight, you should wear argyle socks. I took my keys, wallet, cellphone and my little red LED flashlight and slipped quietly out of the building to my waiting car.
I pulled up to this historical site quietly noting the surrounding houses. All the windows were dark. No witnesses. I promise there were no signs with hours posted but anyone that knows me well knows that I have a knack for being on government property when I'm not supposed to be. I got out of the car fearlessly and started to circle the building with my little flashlight (noting the sign advertising the security company proudly protecting the place). It was cold and mostly dark but, there it was, a rocking chair on the front porch, beckoning. I start reading my book on my way to the porch. I made it through the first paragraph and I hear it. "Click". I shine my flashlight in the windows. "Click." I look around. "Click, click, click."
That sealed it. I don't know for sure that it was the alarm going off but what I do know is that you can only commit so many felonies on government property before you get caught so I turned off my flashlight and ran back to the car. I didn't speed off in case any cops pulled up and thought I was driving suspiciously.
After driving off, heart racing, I felt like I was 5 again, running through the woods afraid of my own imagination. I decided to drive past the lake to watch the moon over the water. I realized a few minutes later I wasn't sure what road I was on until I realized I was on the road that takes you past the hospital, not the lake. I could have taken this as a bad omen but I decided to give it another shot. The moon was no where to be seen but the dark, inky blackness of the water reminded me of sitting on the shore in Belize, waiting for the sun to rise.
I stopped off at McDonalds when I made my way back to get some hot chocolate. Driving through town with my hot chocolate and the windows down and Taylor Swifts "Teardrops on my guitar" on repeat, I remembered the things I DID like about living in a small town. Going to Sonic at all hours of the night, knowing exactly where all your friends live in town, hanging out on the elementary school playground talking to your friends about life until 2am or to that drummer who's not so bright but makes up for it in looks. Driving to the lake in the middle of the night to pray or taking your friends camping in undesignated camping areas.
And now I am back in my nightgown, safely in my bed with my hot chocolate and the rest of my book to send me to sleep (slightly fearful that the cops will show up at my door in the morning). Midnight in a small town...... small adventures await.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Sock Drawer
When you're finally alone, truly in the silence no TV or phone or friends or anyone, and not even your dog is around, you discover something unfortunate about yourself.
You are a stuffer. Your mind has become like an overloaded sock drawer with no matches. Like the overloaded sock drawer, there are one or two mismatched socks peeking out of the not fully shut drawer in the dresser that is your mind. You've been stuffing issues like you've been stuffing socks, telling yourself you will get to them later and later never comes.
There are at least two dressers in this apartment. Possibly more but I haven't explored all the closets yet (no knowing what may jump out at me, or what I may find). I generally only need two drawers and one drawer is holding my extra pillowcases. You know, in case of emergency. I decided that time alone is time enough to unload my overloaded sock drawer and neatly compartmentalize the issues I've been conveniently stuffing. The empty drawers will do nicely.
So I am changing. I'm giving myself some time laugh and time to cry over the mismatched socks that are my fears and hopes and worries and regrets. I'm matching the pairs and throwing out the odd ones, done hoping the match will show up one day (in other words, I'm done hoping I'll understand "why", I'm just letting go).
People, in general, fear to be alone for this very reason. But our overstuffed sock drawers make up the scaffolding of our lives. I think ignoring them prevents us from living fully. If Peter Pan has taught us anything it's that Living is an awfully big adventure.
So this week, I'm leaving the small town zombies and would be predators to each other. I am unpacking my sock drawer and making sense of life.
You are a stuffer. Your mind has become like an overloaded sock drawer with no matches. Like the overloaded sock drawer, there are one or two mismatched socks peeking out of the not fully shut drawer in the dresser that is your mind. You've been stuffing issues like you've been stuffing socks, telling yourself you will get to them later and later never comes.
There are at least two dressers in this apartment. Possibly more but I haven't explored all the closets yet (no knowing what may jump out at me, or what I may find). I generally only need two drawers and one drawer is holding my extra pillowcases. You know, in case of emergency. I decided that time alone is time enough to unload my overloaded sock drawer and neatly compartmentalize the issues I've been conveniently stuffing. The empty drawers will do nicely.
So I am changing. I'm giving myself some time laugh and time to cry over the mismatched socks that are my fears and hopes and worries and regrets. I'm matching the pairs and throwing out the odd ones, done hoping the match will show up one day (in other words, I'm done hoping I'll understand "why", I'm just letting go).
People, in general, fear to be alone for this very reason. But our overstuffed sock drawers make up the scaffolding of our lives. I think ignoring them prevents us from living fully. If Peter Pan has taught us anything it's that Living is an awfully big adventure.
So this week, I'm leaving the small town zombies and would be predators to each other. I am unpacking my sock drawer and making sense of life.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Fun In the Night
When I rented this apartment no one told me that everyone in the building had a hearing impairment but I discovered that was infact the case at 1:45 this morning. Were they not hearing impaired, they would have surely heard the incessant beeping coming from the hall. Maybe it was because I couldn't sleep, what with the drip drip dripping outside my windows and staying up to watch a reality show I am too ashamed to own up to, that's probably why I was the only one to hear it.
The beeping started off seeming really faint and then grew annoyingly louder with each passing second. So I wondered around the apartment trying to figure out what the sound was only to discover it was coming from outside my front door. The fire alarm box was beeping and flashing with a light that said "Trouble." I looked around to make sure I didn't see any smoke and wondered why I was the only one standing in the hall in my PJ's pushing the button that said trouble to see if it would help the situation. (turned out not to be a button after all.....).
I didn't know who to call but I hunted up the number to security and called them to report it. One of the two people on the phone might have been easily mistaken for being intoxicated...
Security: ___ security how can I help you?
Me: Yeth, I would like to report there is a giant box outhide my door that keepth beeping and thaying trouble, but thereth no fire (did I mention I still had my bite guard in when I called?)
Security: Have you been outside your apartment?
Me: Yeth but thereth no fire
Secutiry: No they've been going off, we'll send some one over. Are you in **** building?
Me: I'm in ***
Security: Yeah thats **** **** street right? Have you been outside of your apartment?
Me: I don't know where I am. Yeth I went outside. (why does she keep asking me that? Do they want me to go stand out there?)
Security:Ok were sending some one over now
So they came over sounding like the swat team, there were at least four of them and they were awfully chipper for 2:30 in the morning. The beeping ceased for a good 30 minutes and then it started back up again but they came back without another call from me. No one else in the building stirred. The beeping ceased allowing me to return my focus to drip drip dripping and the sighs that can only come from someone who knows that the hope of a good nights sleep is abandoned.
The beeping started off seeming really faint and then grew annoyingly louder with each passing second. So I wondered around the apartment trying to figure out what the sound was only to discover it was coming from outside my front door. The fire alarm box was beeping and flashing with a light that said "Trouble." I looked around to make sure I didn't see any smoke and wondered why I was the only one standing in the hall in my PJ's pushing the button that said trouble to see if it would help the situation. (turned out not to be a button after all.....).
I didn't know who to call but I hunted up the number to security and called them to report it. One of the two people on the phone might have been easily mistaken for being intoxicated...
Security: ___ security how can I help you?
Me: Yeth, I would like to report there is a giant box outhide my door that keepth beeping and thaying trouble, but thereth no fire (did I mention I still had my bite guard in when I called?)
Security: Have you been outside your apartment?
Me: Yeth but thereth no fire
Secutiry: No they've been going off, we'll send some one over. Are you in **** building?
Me: I'm in ***
Security: Yeah thats **** **** street right? Have you been outside of your apartment?
Me: I don't know where I am. Yeth I went outside. (why does she keep asking me that? Do they want me to go stand out there?)
Security:Ok were sending some one over now
So they came over sounding like the swat team, there were at least four of them and they were awfully chipper for 2:30 in the morning. The beeping ceased for a good 30 minutes and then it started back up again but they came back without another call from me. No one else in the building stirred. The beeping ceased allowing me to return my focus to drip drip dripping and the sighs that can only come from someone who knows that the hope of a good nights sleep is abandoned.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Missing Ingredients
Tonight I was reminded that you dont realize how much you miss somthing until you don't have it anymore.
I have no butter.
I was going to make pasta and meatballs for dinner , I was going to make black beans and rice and chicken. I was going to make freakin' toast when I got desperate!
Alas, there is no butter. I pondered the possibility of leaving to obtain said butter only to remember that if I leave this apartment I have to get gas immediatly. So to obtain butter I must put myself in imminet danger from small down zombies at the gas station AND the grocery store (and the only one open at this hour is Walmart). No Thank You!!
Instead, I opted to have a fiber one bar, some yogurt covered pretzels and mini cheese wheel. Yum!
If I got snowed in here I would definitely only make it three days and, unwilling to leave the comforts of my rented rooms for fear of the inevitable head injury after a fall on the ice, I would be found clinging to my last bag of popcorn hoping for somone to rescue me with a hot meal. Before I got married I used to eat popcorn for dinner and then I got married to a gourmet cook and things changed. Now that I'm riding solo a few days a week without my live-in chef, I worry that I won't be able to find the milk aisle, I wander around the store grasping at packages, fearful of buying anything that might get moldy because I can't conceptualize when food might go bad on my own.
The ice from the storm has decided to drain right outside my window so all I can hear is drip, drip , drip. When you're alone, there's no one to wake up and say "Do you hear that ?" to and them reply "It's nothing, go back to bed." It's just you in your little bed with growing confidence that it's the town strangler, coming for you.
I left my guitar at home thinking it would be a distraction. Maybe if I had brought it I could barter a song for some butter. I am VERY good at writing pointless songs. but then I would probably get a huge following and what with the crowds and the photos and the inevitable stalkers. It's not for me.
Reason #1 to never be alone - an overactive imagination.
I have no butter.
I was going to make pasta and meatballs for dinner , I was going to make black beans and rice and chicken. I was going to make freakin' toast when I got desperate!
Alas, there is no butter. I pondered the possibility of leaving to obtain said butter only to remember that if I leave this apartment I have to get gas immediatly. So to obtain butter I must put myself in imminet danger from small down zombies at the gas station AND the grocery store (and the only one open at this hour is Walmart). No Thank You!!
Instead, I opted to have a fiber one bar, some yogurt covered pretzels and mini cheese wheel. Yum!
If I got snowed in here I would definitely only make it three days and, unwilling to leave the comforts of my rented rooms for fear of the inevitable head injury after a fall on the ice, I would be found clinging to my last bag of popcorn hoping for somone to rescue me with a hot meal. Before I got married I used to eat popcorn for dinner and then I got married to a gourmet cook and things changed. Now that I'm riding solo a few days a week without my live-in chef, I worry that I won't be able to find the milk aisle, I wander around the store grasping at packages, fearful of buying anything that might get moldy because I can't conceptualize when food might go bad on my own.
The ice from the storm has decided to drain right outside my window so all I can hear is drip, drip , drip. When you're alone, there's no one to wake up and say "Do you hear that ?" to and them reply "It's nothing, go back to bed." It's just you in your little bed with growing confidence that it's the town strangler, coming for you.
I left my guitar at home thinking it would be a distraction. Maybe if I had brought it I could barter a song for some butter. I am VERY good at writing pointless songs. but then I would probably get a huge following and what with the crowds and the photos and the inevitable stalkers. It's not for me.
Reason #1 to never be alone - an overactive imagination.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
A less adventureous adventure
Apparently a hyper vigilance to small town predators comes with a price.
This morning, with hardly a minute to spare, I realized with horror that I forgot to purchase a tooth brush the night before. Granted, I should have realized that before I went to bed but I fell asleep watching"milliionare matchmaker" so my dental hygiene may have fallen to the wayside. Fail. There was no time to to run and buy one, I had exactly four minutes to be at my meeting across the street. I did the only thing I could. I grabbed three chewy mints with christmas trees on them off the fire place mantle and stuffed them in my mouth as fast as I could. I followed that with some significant gulps of water and finished up with gum. Equivalent to brushing? I think so.
Anyone who knows me well know that there are two things I could be considered obsessive about. 1. Checking my food for mold and 2. Personal hygiene. Summoning the courage the to face the world sans brushing my teeth was almost as bad as finding mold on a bagel when you've already eaten half of it.
The highlight of the day was a tie between the sandwhich I ate for lunch and walking in the rain to buy a toothbrush. Did I say adventures in being alone? How about pathetic graspings to fill up the quiet hours without sacrificing myself on the alter of reality tv.
It's times like these I regret my choice to not take up pipe-smoking.I always felt it would come in handy and bring a certain air of refinement. If I smoked a pipe I would sit in the blue arm chair by the fireplace that lit its last fire long ago and say "oh the pleasure of the pain, give me those lips again. Enough, enough. It is enough for me to dream of thee." Yes, Keats would do nicely.
Instead, I am watching sienfield on a TV that has some signficant deficits. The show appears to have been filmed in the dark after the entire cast fell asleep in a tanning booth. What is visible is partially blocked by the subtitles that are unreadable. Long black boxes appear across the bottom of the screen hinting of the subtitles that once were.
Another precious day of life ends at 8 O'Clock in a small town.
This morning, with hardly a minute to spare, I realized with horror that I forgot to purchase a tooth brush the night before. Granted, I should have realized that before I went to bed but I fell asleep watching"milliionare matchmaker" so my dental hygiene may have fallen to the wayside. Fail. There was no time to to run and buy one, I had exactly four minutes to be at my meeting across the street. I did the only thing I could. I grabbed three chewy mints with christmas trees on them off the fire place mantle and stuffed them in my mouth as fast as I could. I followed that with some significant gulps of water and finished up with gum. Equivalent to brushing? I think so.
Anyone who knows me well know that there are two things I could be considered obsessive about. 1. Checking my food for mold and 2. Personal hygiene. Summoning the courage the to face the world sans brushing my teeth was almost as bad as finding mold on a bagel when you've already eaten half of it.
The highlight of the day was a tie between the sandwhich I ate for lunch and walking in the rain to buy a toothbrush. Did I say adventures in being alone? How about pathetic graspings to fill up the quiet hours without sacrificing myself on the alter of reality tv.
It's times like these I regret my choice to not take up pipe-smoking.I always felt it would come in handy and bring a certain air of refinement. If I smoked a pipe I would sit in the blue arm chair by the fireplace that lit its last fire long ago and say "oh the pleasure of the pain, give me those lips again. Enough, enough. It is enough for me to dream of thee." Yes, Keats would do nicely.
Instead, I am watching sienfield on a TV that has some signficant deficits. The show appears to have been filmed in the dark after the entire cast fell asleep in a tanning booth. What is visible is partially blocked by the subtitles that are unreadable. Long black boxes appear across the bottom of the screen hinting of the subtitles that once were.
Another precious day of life ends at 8 O'Clock in a small town.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
First Night Frights
After dark ( which means 6pm), the population of small-town-grocery-shopping-men turns into a crowd of potential murderers/rapists/zombies. I do my best to avoid, snatching my cart of bagged groceries from the bag boy with a leery eye. I forgot to get batteries. Now I have to decide if I would rather risk my life with a potential zombie lurking around every aisle of the local walgreen's or if I am willing to walk back and forth to change the channel. Under the circumstances, I decide that grabbing a pack of AA's from a well lit store is worth the risk.
I was right.
The parking infront of my building is parallel. The day of regret for not learning to parrallel park had finally come. I summoned my superhuman strength to avoid multi trips to car. I double checked the trunk I left open to be sure no one, or no thing, had decided to climb in for the night. As I closed it shut, I realized that, inevitably, there was hooded youth walking toward me. Im pretty sure he was only texting as a way to disarm me. I grabbed the spoils of my quest and ran into a locked apartment.
So now there's one last goal to be reached. The last PHD application. Nothing is more frightening than trying to sell yourself to the highest bidder using 1,000 words or less. Minimize the borderline personality disorder (WHY WONT YOU LOVE ME!) without falling into to the narcissistic (I AM AWESOME!! ARE YOU TOO DUMB TO KNOW THAT?). Throw Paula Adul's "Live to Dance" in the mix and and you have a challenging two hours to write one paragraph. I'm pretty sure I just tried to convince GSU to let me dance for underserved populations to the tune of Pink's "Raise your glass."
The imaginary harms that are visable are far less frightening the ones that are real but exist only in the mind. There's nothing like being alone in a empty apartment to remind you that you are avoiding thinking some things out and no amount of Lifetime television can drown those out.
The scary part comes when everyone says goodnight online and your loved one calls to say he's heading to bed and you find that you are really alone. When that happens, you decide to write a blog at 10:50 at night to amuse yourself (and whoever else feels like avoiding whatever they actually have to do).
I could be working on thesis before bed, but then, I don't want to give myself nightmares. My only hope is that I fall asleep before I remember that my bed is beside two large windows, that my husband is flying to the other side of the country tommorow, that I have to turn in the next draft of my thesis on thursday and I kind of "forgot" to work on it over the break, that the feeling of missing somone isn't as strong as being dissapointed in them and that tommorow brings a whole new set of responsabilities and potential failures (also potential injuries).
Also, yesterday when I was pumping gas my heel got caught on the gas pump and I hit the side of my car face first.
Good night.
I was right.
The parking infront of my building is parallel. The day of regret for not learning to parrallel park had finally come. I summoned my superhuman strength to avoid multi trips to car. I double checked the trunk I left open to be sure no one, or no thing, had decided to climb in for the night. As I closed it shut, I realized that, inevitably, there was hooded youth walking toward me. Im pretty sure he was only texting as a way to disarm me. I grabbed the spoils of my quest and ran into a locked apartment.
So now there's one last goal to be reached. The last PHD application. Nothing is more frightening than trying to sell yourself to the highest bidder using 1,000 words or less. Minimize the borderline personality disorder (WHY WONT YOU LOVE ME!) without falling into to the narcissistic (I AM AWESOME!! ARE YOU TOO DUMB TO KNOW THAT?). Throw Paula Adul's "Live to Dance" in the mix and and you have a challenging two hours to write one paragraph. I'm pretty sure I just tried to convince GSU to let me dance for underserved populations to the tune of Pink's "Raise your glass."
The imaginary harms that are visable are far less frightening the ones that are real but exist only in the mind. There's nothing like being alone in a empty apartment to remind you that you are avoiding thinking some things out and no amount of Lifetime television can drown those out.
The scary part comes when everyone says goodnight online and your loved one calls to say he's heading to bed and you find that you are really alone. When that happens, you decide to write a blog at 10:50 at night to amuse yourself (and whoever else feels like avoiding whatever they actually have to do).
I could be working on thesis before bed, but then, I don't want to give myself nightmares. My only hope is that I fall asleep before I remember that my bed is beside two large windows, that my husband is flying to the other side of the country tommorow, that I have to turn in the next draft of my thesis on thursday and I kind of "forgot" to work on it over the break, that the feeling of missing somone isn't as strong as being dissapointed in them and that tommorow brings a whole new set of responsabilities and potential failures (also potential injuries).
Also, yesterday when I was pumping gas my heel got caught on the gas pump and I hit the side of my car face first.
Good night.
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