Blog about Insomnia

Well hello world! It is 12:38AM and that is relatively early for me actually. I am sitting on a love-seat in a basement listening to my 159 newly downloaded songs on iTunes on shuffle, of course. I am "like a boss." I am listening to "like a boss" like a boss, as well. The Lonely Island makes me happy, laser cats really makes me smile.

Oh and I can't sleep and it sucks dicks. Speaking of sucking dicks, I am in the Northern part of Illinois for Gay Pride (and no I am not a lesbian even though I love cats and haven't had a boyfriend in a while), I just very much enjoy the company of gays, they are a good people most of the time.

Okay and now for the reason I cannot sleep, my best friend A. Robert and I are staying with his family, and they are great and I appreciate it a lot, I just have problems sleeping when I don't get to do my nightly rituals, or in a bed that is not my own or in a bed with another person or when everyone else goes to sleep really early and I have to stay awake and entertain myself.

My nightly rituals usually include me washing my face, brushing my hair and putting my freshly brushed locks into a sexy ponytail, putting myself away in my room having a snack while stumbling the interwebs or watching netflix or reading. After that I usually play some sort of computer game such as spider solitare or a puzzle or Plants vs. Zombies (Which I recently had to delete from my computer, sad face). Then I tell my cat Gunther to get his ass out of my closet, yes he sleeps in there, and to come and cuddle with me. When he obeys my request for cuddling, we cuddle and fall asleep and then when I wake up his face is usually on my face, and I freaking love it. However I should say he more often than not refuses to cuddle until the early morning hours, so I remove him from my closet and he sleeps at the foot of the bed, where I might continuously kick him in the night but he doesn't seem to mind. After the fight for cuddling I take a lovely trip to my happy place and soon after drift off into lovely sleep.

When my friends stay over, my nightly ritual is usually an impossibility, but at least I have my bed.

However, when I sleep somewhere else falling asleep and the nightly ritual are both impossibilities. Even when I was little I would stay at friends houses and I never had to call my parents to come get me, mostly because I hate to inconvenience people, but getting to sleep was always hard. I remember my friend Gerica and I watched Pet Cemetery 2 and it was all I could do to even close my eyes that night, because immediately after we watched it she wanted to go to bed, even now I can't watch a scary movie and go straight to sleep, I must watch something funny and happy to take me back to my usual level of feeling safe and optimism.

I love trips and going places but in my ideal world I would get to sleep in my own bed, preferably alone, every night. Now as most people who know me well or semi well know, I do not have a boyfriend and if I did I would probably like sleeping in a bed with him, unless he snored a lot or something and I would still want to sleep in my own bed a lot. I am fine sleeping in a bed with my friends and such. It isn't them actually being there that bothers me. The thing that bothers me is me, I get up a lot to pee, diabetic thing, and usually whomever is in bed with me falls asleep first and I have a fear of waking them up or them telling me to stop moving so much because for some reason I have a problem getting comfortable enough to go to sleep.

I don't even take up much room while sleeping, I just like having a whole bed to myself. When I was little I slept in the same bed with my little brother because he was always scared and I was cold. The last time I slept in his bed was after I saw The Grudge and I was horrified. He was already asleep and boy does that boy take up a whole bed! I wedged myself between his flailed out arm and leg and covered myself with a corner and slept against my warm younger brother soundly. In the morning he woke me up by saying "What the fuck are you doing in my bed?" I told him I saw a scary movie and then got up and went into my own bedroom and slept more soundly because it was light outside by that time. Obviously he outgrew his fear of sleeping alone.

Wow! It has been a whole hour since I started this blog, I have moved from iTunes to YouTube and I looked at some friends blogs and did this....

I love my bed. If you have ever watched the movie Smiley Face, picture that scene where Anna Ferris is rolling around in her bed giggling. I fucking love my bed, it is comfy and awesome and wonderful and I want to be in it right now with my cat and pizza hut pizza and cheesesticks, but I can't have any of that.  I once wrote a whole poem about it...

Bed

My dearest and closest relationship.

Your companionship is second only to my cats.

But unlike the cats you never judge me or

run away from me when I am just trying to snuggle.

You are always there for me.

When I am drunk

you cushion my hangover.

When I am so exhausted I think I could pass out on the cold tile floor

you make me so happy I did not pass out on the cold tile floor.

I look forward to sinking past the day and into the covers of you, my bed.

All the pillows and blankets spilling over me, it is so awesome and warm.

However some mornings in the winter I am pissed I have to leave you.

so warm and soft and non judgmental.

Bed glorious bed.

The covers cradle and caress.

The mattress is just right as Goldilocks would say. 

The sheets are cool to the touch but warm as I lay down.

The plush pillows play me sweet melodies to fall asleep to.

Always there and waiting.

Sometimes unmade, most of the time

unmade.

Even when made you still look inviting.

It's nice knowing I have someone waiting for me when I get home.

No matter what,

whether I wish to cry into my pillows

or beat them like punching bags

or simply use one to makes sure that my legs are not touching.

Simple and so relaxing.

I think I'll take a nap.

That was it, that was the poem, I love naps too. Not cat naps though, I like a nap to be a nice 2 hour affair.

I love to stay up late and sleep late and I hate being the last one awake because then I feel weird. I am weird though and that is okay. I think I am done with this blog.

Things...

have to get better, let me tell you why.

The best cat I have ever owned is missing. She has been gone for at least 2 weeks.

I may not get to go to school this year because financial aid sucks and my parents can't afford it without financial aid.

Then there is the perpetual singleness that eats away at my life force. (That sentence was a bit dramatic, but fuck it.)

I feel like I can't actually talk to anyone. I feel like no one cares, even though I know they do.

I know I am looking for something specific, I am looking for someone to say something, or for the right opportunity.

But the way things are going I don't even know if I would see the opportunity or hear the words really.

My debit card has also been destroyed and I am broke. Nothing makes me happy except for watching Dexter, and that is just fucked up because I have already watched most episodes and he kills people.

Life is hard, television is easy, Netflix is my happy place.

Mostly, I am worried about my cat. She is orange and soft and she hates bathing herself and she hates my Mom's other cats and she is perfect in every way and I miss her and I hope she comes back.

The last time an animal of mine was missing it was my puppy Boots. Boots got parvo and my little brother's friend found her in the field across from our house dead. they told me and I started crying and ran to the bathroom, locked myself in and sobbed for at least 45 minutes.

If my precious baby Pumpkin cat is missing I hope she has internet access and my blog saved to her favorites, I hope she reads this and come home. I need to cuddle her gnarly-self.

Things have to get better.

Weird Wine

I love booze and occasionally like to indulge in excessive drinking of booze...only occasionally. I like to indulge with the same people usually, as I tend to be very drunk, loud, inappropriate, obscene and occasionally not fully clothed.

My friend Phillip works at a place that sells food and booze. This past Saturday I got off at 6 and he got off at 8. We had plans to hang out after and I decided that I would go to his work and get drunk while he was working and then he could drive me home and we could get more drunk.

I order a bottle of really yummy wine from Phillip and sit down with my young adult novel and begin to drink. I decided that I must finish this bottle in an hour and a half time frame. I think the other workers felt sorry for me, they kept asking me if I ordered food and when I received my bottle of wine I was given 2 glasses (I left one on a random table), and finally after I was almost done with my wine I was given 2 tokens to get wine or beer really cheap from a nice gentleman.

Also Phillip later told me that his boss liked me and would hire me if I wanted a job. I asked him if I could get discounted wine or beer, he said no, so I declined that job offer.

I didn't read very much, I mostly texted my friend Kasey. Drunk reading is very enjoyable though.

By the time Phillip was off I was very drunk. We went to my apartment to check on my cat and to get a box of wine that we hadn't finished yet.

Once we had properly played with my cat and gotten that half full box of wine we went back to Phillip's and got to work.

We finished that wine in no time. I cried because I thought my parents hated me and were punishing me for changing my major(they don't, I just don't understand their "logic" if you can even call it that.) We talked about how awesome we will one day be in the theater world and before we knew it the wine was gone! So we decided to walk to a liquor store to get more.

We of course took my camera and documented part of the journey. Then we met Lonnie, a 35 year old homeless man who we spent an hour sitting with under an over pass. We told him we were homeless too and  to go to Papa Johns because they would probably feed him. He asked if we were high and I am pretty sure that lead to a delightful conversation about all the drugs our new friend Lonnie had done. I was still really drunk and kept telling the homeless man that he had a warm soul.

After we homeless went our separate ways, Lonnie to find food and we to find booze, I somehow injured my hand. I woke up with a blood blister on my hand and grass in my bra. We were almost to the liquor store when there was a cop car and I got scared, so I handed my money to Phillip and probably said something like "I'll be here, go get us wine my child." While Phillip went and got the 2 cheapest bottles of wine he could find I sat on the step of an Indian food restaurant. I am unsure how we made it home, but we so did.

We then went on an inappropriate photoshoot, I had WTMB exposed and we used Phillip's exercise bands as props, oh and all of the cars in the parking lot, and a tree, and steps....

We called Papa John's at 2:20 because we fucking wanted pizza. We were on hold until 2:48 and they told us they stopped taking orders at 2:45. Phillip told them we have been on hold since 2:20 and they said sorry and hung up. Phillip made my facebook status about it.

Phillip decided we would watch Rock-a-Doodle and he would make pizza. I remember him saying the crust will be a tortilla shell and then I fell asleep.

I should add that earlier we ate a whole thing of biscuits with jelly. I was drunk when I bought the biscuits and a man tried to get me to let him buy my biscuits with his link card and I refused. I didn't understand why he would want to do that and then Phillip explained that if he bought my biscuits with his link and I gave him the money then he could use my money to get booze or cigarettes and that was illegal! I was glad I said no.

When I awoke Phillip was sitting on the floor eating pizza made of tortilla shell, Alfredo sauce, velveta cheese, 1 piece of bacon, pickles and only drunk Phillip knows what else. So I of course dug in. We finished Rock-a-Doodle and went to sleep. We didn't even finish one bottle of wine...

My Favorite Things

Cats sleeping in my lap
Castle Park
The "you are my sunshine" spot
Reading on the beach
Reading outside
Iced Coffee
Old Stuff
Target
Sundresses
My clear umbrella
Sleeping in
Lots of pillows
Crafts
My awesome insulin pump
Finding cool stuff for free
Taking way too many pictures and then subjecting the world to view them
fruit punch
being barefoot outside in the summer
A specific hot tub

Angsty

I'm so angsty as of late. And according to my spell check angsty isn't even a word!
Fuck you spell check fuck you!
I don't even know why, honestly I don't.
I thought I was supposed to be over these angsty feelings by now, I haven't felt this weird in a while.
I am not depressed, been there, I think angst is the only word I feel comfortable describing my weirdness with.
Probably because I don't know whats causing the weirdness.
Part of it may be a riff in a friendship, we both have weirdness happening, another part may be the new job, and then the constant part of my displeasure is my perpetual singleness(this is my number one issue, I know that.)

I know what I need, I need someone to shut up and just listen to me. I need them to ask me questions and let me answer them, I need someone to just be quiet and tell me it's all going to be okay. (Because I know it will be, I just want to be told by someone who I don't normally hear it from.)

I need someone new to talk to, maybe an old person, on their front porch or maybe a child on a playground. I need someone who knows things I don't or remembers things I have forgotten. I need a storybook read to me where I get to be the princess,  a prince doesn't need to save me in fact I would prefer if he didn't, but I need less harping and more helping.

Taking Names and Killing Snakes

I am about to describe this event as it happens.

My Mom and Dad are currently trying to kill a snake, I am watching from the island bar in our kitchen, my little brother and his friend are playing magic cards behind me in the dining room, and the cats are chasing bugs and watching from the window too.

Now Neil is going to scare Mom, I am still on snake watch.

Let me describe the earlier events while nothing exciting is happening.

It's Mother's Day and I am home until Tuesday. Mom bought a bunch of flowers, seeds and ferns and she was showing them to me. After we toured the gardens, we sat on our back porch and admired our land  and the nice weather and planned for our gardening tomorrow. The dogs sat at our feet and our cats occasionally paid attention to us. Dad came outside for a while. Now I don't even remember what we were talking about, but I got distracted by something moving on the upper corner of our back porch and I thought that looks like a snake! And it was a snake! So I yelled SNAKE! And we ran to the door! Which was locked! So we beat on it and yelled for Neil and Dad and Neil's friend Ian! Finally Neil answers the door and says "Is there a snake?" To which we reply yes!

Well the snake is dead now, after an epic battle, which I will now describe.

After sitting inside and starting this blog and exchanging witty snake killing banter with my family inside and through the glass, this is how the death happened.

We have had snakes get up under the roof of our back porch before (and we killed them too) so we knew how this was about to go down. Mom sprayed bleach and water and Dad sprayed wasp spray into the lip of our porch, and then we wait, well they wait and I typed that first big paragraph. So we wait and spray more water and bleach and then the snake starts to slither down the square pole that holds up our porch. Since the pole is square the snake falls about halfway down, stupid idiot snake, then Mom comes after it with a shovel. She strikes it and keeps coming back up and then Dad comes to help and Mom yells "Get the pruners and cut its head off! He is slippery and I need help!" Dad instead of getting the pruners grabs a sponge mop that we happen to have laying outside (we are classy like that, actually I bet Mom used it to wash the side of the house.) I guess the sponge mop could have absorbed some of the slippery off the snake? The snake moves back to the porch from the rocks it had been in and mom keeps swinging the shovel and the snake keeps striking up to bite. Finally after numerous blows Mom finally severs the evil snake being and then my parents bash it a few more times just to be safe. Moments after the snakes death, Neil arrives with a rake. I sat and watched the carnage happen from the safety of my tall kitchen chair.

Now we must decide what to do with the snake, Dad says throw it in the fence row, but Mom decided to burn it.

Dad said I should have videoed the killing, but I said it was really violent and I don't particularly like to video violence, unless it is well acted or between stuffed animals.

We decided this was our stance against snakes on out property "We see you, we find you, we kill you."

I have never killed a snake, I prefer to run into my parents arms screaming and begging for them to kill the evil thing with no arms. I don't think I could kill a snake unless it was a life or death situation, I would be too scared or feel bad after, even though the things terrify me.

After witnessing my parents and my brother with their tools and in action, I think my family will be fine if there is ever a zombie invasion and that is what really matters.

Happy Mother's Day! I am going to do laundry now.

I can’t help but say the words I cannot say

I can’t help but say the words I cannot say.

Every time something begins to begin to be fun someone seems to stop it out or ruin it. Now I am not saying I don’t have fun, but it seems to be the simple things that are most fun.

Every time I think I can break my shell someone seems to come and tape it up, 

“Nope you aren’t really ready to be you yet let me spackle on some more doubts and fears and insecurities for you to deal with.”

Really, I thought I had enough already? 

But if you say so, go ahead pile them on, no really I don’t mind, I am just timid little Sarah who listens and agrees and shuts up when told to. 

If I can’t talk about it with you who can I talk too? 

I can trace this back to the beginning. 

I’ve always wanted to be an actress and instead of encouraging me to try, my parents encouraged me to pick a “more sensible path.” Which really is fine, I get it. They encouraged me and helped me a lot and they still do, but I think that is the first time I was told to change and I did. But I can’t, I love theater, I really do I can’t even imagine my life without it. It moves me. I need it and now I am in school for at least another year to get that degree when I knew that was what I wanted to do since I was 8. 

(But my parents really are awesome)

The second major crushing blow to my being me happened in high school. I was quiet in high school and didn't cuss and had hopes of still being a virtuous soul when I graduated. I wasn’t, I wasn't at all. 

Peer pressure sucks, once in junior high myself and some friends were on the playground and they were trying to get me to say, Mother Fucker. Now I can say, type, spit, yell, scream that word with no problem, then it was different story. I said mother with no hesitation, but when it came to the f bomb, no such luck. 

Anyways flash forward to high school, I don’t remember exactly what year it was probably freshman or sophomore my high school boyfriend and I were at a secluded spot on the edge of town and his car had a sunroof. After what I am sure was an intensely tame lame make out session, I opened his sunroof and proceeded to sit on top of his car and sing loudly. He asked what I was doing and then we got into a fight. Why were we fighting? Oh because I wasn't being the timid little Sarah he “loved.” 

When he said I don’t know about the new you I formed a shell to live in as the real me, the loud Sarah who likes to dance crazy even while shes sober, the Sarah who isn't scared to stand up for herself or others, the Sarah who can express and back her opinion with ease. 

I melted into the seat of that charcoal Eclipse faster than butter in a skillet, I probably said something like Okay sweetie and then I probably shut up and held his hand as he sped me home. 

Occasionally, someone can break the shell and I have fun, but almost immediately I get put back inside before I can even gather the pieces of the shell to destroy them. Even when I try to storm off someone comes to find me, they won’t even let me brood, they know I am too nice.

Mother Fuckers. 

It still happens even now, people who I love keep patching the holes over so I can’t escape. I guess it would be people I love who want to keep me the same, but I can’t and I know it’s only a matter of time before I get out. 

I know I have someone with a pick axe on my side and maybe, just maybe if I can dance and yell loud enough I can get out.