My Little Buddy, Al

So there I was. it was just after 11:00 at night and, exhausted from a long day at work, I wearily trudged out to my lonely little car. as I reached to open the door, I noticed a small little moth attached to the driver's side window. it was completely white and terribly cute. I touched it with my finger, expecting it to happily fly on its merry way. so I was a little surprised when it gave a feeble cough (or at least I imagined it did) and simply fell onto the pavement on its back and lay still. I peered closer. surely, I hadn't killed it? I touched it again, and was rewarded with nothing more than a slight leg movement. the moth was obviously sick. maybe dying. was I really going to leave a sick creature laying in an abandoned parking lot to die, alone and afraid? Not even I am that heartless. (unless I'm sitting in a deer stand in Nowhere Minnesota, and then, well, that's different. entirely.)

I wondered what to do. since I was anxious to be getting home and out of the dark parking lot, I simply scooped him up and took him along. I would decide what to do with him on the way. setting him on the seat next to me, I gave him another curious glance, trying to give an accurate diagnosis. it appeared to me that the moth had fainted. heat stroke, maybe. how long he had been clinging to my window, I didn't know. might've been five minutes, might've been all day. I tried to maneuver him onto his legs thinking maybe that would make him more comfortable, but he seemed content enough to lay on his back, so I left him like that.

I started my car and turned on the music--something happy and upbeat, to drown out the unpleasant workday. I don't remember what exactly I was listening to, and it doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, I'm sure it was awesome, whatever it was, otherwise I wouldn't be listening to it, would I? :)

Anyways, as I drove home, I wondered what I would do with my new little buddy when I arrived. without thinking any more about it, I turned up my music and decided to take a detour on my way home so I could listen to it a little longer.

I had just passed a street light, and chanced a look at Little Buddy, when I noticed a change in him. he was no longer on his back. in fact, he was on all fours--err, all sixes--and was looking perky and alert. I smiled. "Little Buddy, if anything had the power to cure you, it was surely the music." Little Buddy seemed to agree. he has good taste.

So after I stop the car in front of my house, I debate what to do with him. he's still there on the passenger seat, watching me, waiting for my verdict. I decide to let him loose outside, where he could be happy and free. So I try to get him to climb onto my key so I can carry him to freedom. he starts to climb aboard, and then seems to have second thoughts. he darts a few inches away, then stops again, wanting to trust me deep down but unsure of my intentions.

"C'mon, Little Buddy," I call softly. "I'm just going to take you outside." but again, he runs away, this time underneath the passenger seat and out of sight. I sighed. well, if he really loves my car--and my music--that much, then he's welcome to it, I guess. it's his life. I'm down with it as long as he doesn't fly around in my face while I drive.

I get out of my car and close the door. he still has not reappeared. I smile and start to go inside, but realize that if he's going to live in my car I ought to give him a proper name. none that I think of seem to fit him, though. eventually, because he is an albino moth, I named him Al. "Goodnight, Al. sweet dreams."

It's been quite a few days. Al has not reappeared. I don't even know if he's still in the car. possibly, he flew outside while I was driving along with my windows open. possibly, he climbed out that one time when I accidentally left the window down all morning. possibly, he's still alive and rocking out with my tunes every time I climb into the car. possibly, he was even more sick than I thought and crawled under the seat and died.

In any case, Little Buddy Al had the best taste in music of any other moth I've ever met. Rock on, dude. rock on.

"If You're Gonna Play In Texas" --Alabama

I Am SO Going To Regret This...

Although I've gotten into the very bad habit of going to bed in the wee morning hours every night, last night, because I had to work at 8:00 the following morning, I was bidding the family goodnight at only midnight. so I was going upstairs to my bedroom like a good little girl, fully intending to go to bed at once, really I was.

Suddenly I remembered that I needed to do a load of laundry--clothes that I needed for work in the morning. so I take my small bundle of clothes down into the laundry room, past Nikki, Jim and Josh watching random TV. when I leave the laundry room several minutes later, the channel they had been watching had been changed. I ask what they're watching. The Fugitive, they answer.

What! wh...what...how could...who do they think they are?!?! they're really going to watch one of the best movies of all time without me?? I bite my lip in indecision. I have to get up at 6:30...the movie doesn't get over until 2:30. that's only three to four hours of sleep before working for eight hours. dare I?

Well...after all...my clothes are in the washer. I need to wait around, just long enough to throw them in the dryer, then I'll go to bed. yeah, that's it. So I stay up and watch the movie with them. yes, I threw my clothes in the dryer, and yes, I continued watching The Fugitive after that. couldn't see that one coming.

The whole time I'm sitting there, despite the fact that the movie was incredible and I hadn't seen it in FOREVER, that little annoying part of my brain that trickles out a constant stream of practical thoughts kept saying, "You're going to regret this tomorrow...you're going to regret this tomorrow...you're going to regret this tomorrow..." and the big part of my brain that constantly flows a riptide rush of sarcastic, impractical thoughts would reply, "Yeah, I know I am. now shut up and watch the movie." and so, when I laid down in my bed at 2:45 a.m., all was right with the world and there was a smile on my face as I lapsed into a deep sleep. "You're going to regret this tomorrow..."

*Tomorrow...which is actually today now*

So to be perfectly honest, I don't really remember too much of this morning. I do remember crawling out of bed at 6:15 feeling like road kill that had been scraped off the side of the road. I sort of remember getting ready and talking with dad for a while, though I have no recollection whatsoever of what we talked about. I remember drinking coffee and staring at the kitchen table. I don't remember if I ate breakfast or not. I remember telling mom how tired I was. she didn't give me much sympathy. rightfully so, I'm afraid. I had nobody to blame but myself.

I remember getting to work and there being no customers for a long long time, leaving me nothing to do but stand there pondering how exhausted I was. I remember wondering if I regretted watching The Fugitive with my brothers and sister. it had been sweet staying up with them, but here I was, tired tired tired. did I regret it? I wasn't sure. I decided to wait until I was not half asleep to make up my mind.

I remember wanting coffee very badly as I stood obediently at my register. I remember thinking how wonderful it would be to have a white chocolate mocha from Nu Vibe with two (count 'em, TWO) extra shots of espresso (notice, there is NO "x" in espresso). I would've just walked the coupla blocks to Nu Vibe on my break and gotten the stupid thing myself, but unfortunately, I was not allowed to stray farther than the Hy Vee parking lot. curses.

I remember scheming...conniving...concocting a way to get a white chocolate mocha. I needed something, that was certain. I couldn't survive the rest of the day at the rate I was going. so, when I was released to take my break, I wasted no time. I grabbed my phone and frantically dialed the only person in the world who would lend a sympathetic ear to my problems. "Hi...Mom? it's me..."

I'm not sure why, but my mother was much, much more willing to help me out this time than she was in the morning before I left for work. she listened quietly to my plea for a white chocolate mocha (and some company on my break) and acquiesced, much to my delight and relief.

So, after waiting patiently in my car for a few minutes, my mother climbs in beside me and hands me a white chocolate mocha, assuring me that yes, it has two extra espresso shots in it. it's as amazing as I dreamed it would be.

That was pretty much the best break ever. my mom and I, drinking coffee in my car, listening to music and talking like old pals. it was fun. I think our playlist consisted of Simon and Garfunkel, Journey, Johnny Cash and Van Halen. :)

So, I finish my mocha, say goodbye and thank you to my mother, and head back inside to work the last four hours of my shift. at last, I felt I was thinking clearly enough to make a decision about whether or not I regret staying up last night.

Let's see. I was no longer tired (the mocha took good care of that problem). I watched a sweet movie with sweet peeps. I got to spend my break with my awesome mom. I got a free white chocolate mocha. Regrets? no way! I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

*Note. from now on, I'm going to put what I'm listening to at the end of my posts. no reason for it. I just want to, and I can. :) so there.*

"I Walk The Line" --Johnny Cash

Hey, No Fair!

I hate not knowing things about myself. seriously, how dumb is it to not know something about your own self? if anyone should know, it should be you! it kinda bugs me that I can't control some things about myself. I can't make my heart stop beating. why not? it's mine, isn't it? it's part of my own self. If I should have control over anything, it ought to be me, don't you think? it's not fair! not that I would ever make my heart stop beating even if I could. but see, I've heard of having "heart hiccups" and I've always thought it would be kinda funny to have those every now and then. :)

Anyways. another thing I hate is when I feel some emotion and I don't know why. annoying! am I the only one plagued with this problem? let's see a show of hands...nobody? fantastic. like just yesterday, I heard this song, and it was so beautiful! it was like...so wonderful it was heartbreaking! and I was sad, and I didn't know why, because it was a good song, not a sad one. but I was happy, too! so weird. not fair, either. I hate when this happens. and see? now I'm upset to top it all off. great.

Lots of songs do that to me. just listening to one of them makes a long rainbow of emotions tumble around inside me like popcorn in one of those old ghetto popcorn poppers. you know, the ones that plugged into the wall? did anyone else have one of those when they were young? I wonder if that thing is still around here someplace...

Anyways. where was I. oh yes; all the things in my life that aren't fair. And another thing! who decided that singing out loud was socially unacceptable? he needs to be drug out into the street and properly disposed of. lately (because of all the songs that I love, like I said in the last part of this pointless blog) I've wanted to do a lot more spontaneous singing than is normal for me. but you know what? somebody decided once that bursting into song in the middle of a crowd is a bad idea, and so, like a bunch of sheep, we all walk around with songs on the tips of our tongues, and don't sing them. thank goodness for the solitude of my car, or I think I would explode. I can't sing when I want to. not fair.

Nebraska doesn't have any mountains. that you could stand in any spot on earth and not see a mountain on the horizon is a sin. as it is, we have to drive and drive and drive for miles to see one, and that's not fair.

Oh! something more! in less than a year, I'm going to be twenty years old. That is way not fair. I'm sick of getting older. it's getting old really fast (haha, get it?). but then, "growing old is mandatory...growing up is optional". that was one of those A-wise-man-once-said sayings that I've always personally liked.

The coffee is gone. no fair.

My mug that I painted at Paint Yourself Silly (remember, the "Johanna, that's a waste of paint" one?) got a chip in it. so sad, not to mention unfair.

Another thing, I can't burp. everyone in my family can, and I can't. I've tried and tried. once I did a little one by accident, but nobody heard it. I don't see how that can be fair at all, by anyone's standards.

Gas. enough said. not fair.

So I'll make myself stop now. I could go on all night *looks at clock* whoa, guess I kinda did. but for all our sakes, I'll end this post and go do something else. moral of the story: so many things are so not fair. now I gotta go...this homie has a hot date with an old ghetto popcorn popper.

I Hate You, Marcus. I Love You, Storms.

So this is going to be a totally amazing post. know why? know why?! cause this is gonna be like....two posts....fused with my magic post-fusing powers, to make one, amazing, incredible, probably boring, dry, not-worth-my-valuable-time post!! Ta-Da! so sit back, get comfy, pull your coffee close and hang on for the ride of your life.

So there I was. as you may remember from my last post, I was eager to see the new Indiana Jones movie. it had been a long day at work, and I was tired and slightly cranky, but my kid brother Josh knows the only known cure to kill any ailment his older sister might attain. "Hey, Jo, wanna go to a movie?"

Blast. the kid was good. he had mastered the skill to a fine art. and even though I knew he was playing me like a fiddle, the magic cure still worked. my step became light and my face, previously void of emotion, was suddenly grinning from ear to ear. nobody can do that like Josh.

Anyways, no sooner had I changed out of my horrid Hy Vee uniform and into something much much more comfortable, then Josh and I were careening down the street in my lovely little car, me singing along to Jim Croce and Josh scrambling to find a different CD. on the short drive to the theater, Josh and I reminisced about all the previous Indiana Jones movies, hyping ourselves for a very promising evening indeed.

Only Fate knew how wrong I was. For all the eight(?) years I've lived here in good old Nebraska, (and what a grand eight years it's been), Douglas Theaters has always been there to provide a bit of fun on weekends (and sometimes not weekends, when I'm feeling especially nerdy) and rip my boredom to shreds at my say-so. but now...there was a new foe on the horizon. a new obstacle to cross. a new hurdle to jump. due to circumstances far, far beyond my arm of influence, Douglas Theaters has sold out to, and transformed into something hardly resembling the good old theater I've grown to love--Marcus Theaters. *duh duh Duhhhhhh*

So, we show up to the theater, intent on movie magic fun. I had already heard from my homies on the street (a.k.a. the old people who come into the grocery store to gossip) that Douglas had sold out to Marcus, so I was already bracing myself for what I would find when I walked through the beloved doors of Edgewood Theater. apparently, though, I didn't brace myself good enough, because as I opened the door of the theater I was quickly washed away in a riptide rush of disappointments.

The first thing that always used to greet me when I went to a movie was the young, semi-conscious college student who took your money and gave you your ticket without blinking or losing the glazed-eye look. they always amused me; put me in a good mood for my movie. sometimes even cut me a deal. but NOW they've got...what? two stuffy old men wearing...tuxedos? what what what??? it was appalling, severely irritating, and slightly hysterical. the tuxedos, or black suites...whatever...make the poor guys look like a mix between a butler and a secret service agent. I scoffed. posers.

Anyways. The stuffy men now name the price (which has skyrocketed), snatch the money, give you your change (if you're lucky) and your ticket. NEXT! no deals here, I'm afraid. oh, and the Douglas Real Deal Card, which has granted me many a free movie over the years and years that I've owned it, is now void. that's right. gone. capooch. capeesh. whatever. I guess Marcus is too good for real deals. the stuffy old man snatched my card, old, bent and faded from years of use and abuse, and threw it in the trash. goodbye, my friend.

Next, Josh and I headed to the snack bar. we weren't really hungry, only thirsty. good thing, too. before, yes, it's true, popcorn was overpriced. very overpriced. I've said goodbye to many Washingtons and Lincolns and Jacksons over the years, as a result of overpriced theater popcorn. but this...this, I felt, was dangerously close to illegal. because popcorn is now in buckets instead of bags (ooh, special), Marcus feels that they need to charge a bit extra. a LOT extra. the smallest size is now the cost of what a large size used to be. good thing I usually don't get popcorn.

"Can I get a large popcorn and a drink, please?"
"Sure. do you want to mortgage your house or sell your soul?"

Moving on with our drinks, Josh and I made our way to our seats. after the lights dimmed, the intro played and, after everything that I had seen changed that evening, I wasn't even surprised that they got rid of the little flying ticket guy and switched to an intro that was supposed to be snazzier, but in all reality was just as lame and boring. now, I never really cared for the little ticket man who flew around telling me to be quiet. but, as I watched the new "Marcus Theater" intro...I couldn't help but feel a little sad. poor Ticket Man. I wondered what he was going to do now.

Anyways, the evening's only redeeming factor was that the movie was very good and I had Josh with me. I don't know why everyone was so upset about the new Indiana Jones movie. I thought it was exceptional. although Harrison Ford was undoubtedly way hotter back in the day of Raiders of the Lost Arc. but he's still good old Indiana.

So that's Marcus Theaters in my biased nutshell. in one fell swoop, Marcus has managed to injure and/or maim all the fun of the movie-going experience. curse you, Marcus. but even though going to the movies is now a little less enjoyable and all but pushes you to the brink of bankruptcy, I suppose it's my civic duty to continue the tradition. after all, what would the world think if all the hard-core movie people stopped going just because of some extra expenses or some old men in tuxedos? do we even want to know the havoc and carnage it would wreak?

Anyways, that was last week. this next part was just tonight. post, prepare to fuse!!

So I was working all afternoon, and in my job, one of the good things about it is that I get to hear all the juicy gossip of the world before anybody else. so I knew pretty early that a massive storm front was going to hit town sometime tonight. how exciting!

After work, I sat in my car and looked in all directions. I was tempted...so very tempted...to go driving toward the fast approaching thunderhead. I know a bad decision when I think of one...but simply knowing that it's a bad idea is hardly ever enough to stop me from entertaining it. I knew driving away from home and into the storm was a bad idea. a very bad idea. I could name all the reasons why I knew, but most of them are painfully obvious, so I won't bore you. but the biggest reason--I'm not sure if it was the only one (the rest seemed trivial)--was that I wanted to get into some more comfortable clothing. if I had been in comfy clothes right then...I might have turned my car toward the storm with a whoop and sped off. who knows.

Anyways, I did go home (like a good little girl) and waited for the storm to hit. I had almost convinced myself that the entire thing would go north of us and we wouldn't get a blessed raindrop, when the wind began. it wasn't too impressive at first, but when the windows started to rattle, I knew it was going to get good.

Our house is so funny to watch during big storms. Mom rushes around making popcorn and cuddling in blankets and watching the weather channel, the little girls sit on the couch and cry, begging us to rush to the basement with our most prized possessions, Dad alternates between checking the radar loop on the computer, watching the weather channel with Mom, and shouting instructions of what to do in case of tornadoes over all the commotion. Jim sits there wanting the noise and chaos to stop, I sit there waiting for my chance to escape outside.

My parents are kind of...finicky about us being outside during a storm. they live by the rule that if something can go wrong, it will. I live by the rule that if something can go wrong, that's where the party's at. eventually, there was a breech of surveillance on the front door and I was able to slip out into the blowing wind and rain.

It was amazing. the hurricane-like winds were making the trees bend over at odd angles, and an interesting assortment of odds and ends were blowing down the street like a junk parade. I was tempted...so very tempted...to run out into the middle of the street and see if I could stand upright against the wind or get blown over. I was ready. so ready. nothing sounded more fun to me right then. but I knew the minute I took a step off the porch my parents would come running out of the house and drag me back inside like some sort of crazy prison escapee. unfortunately, my parents did an excellent job raising me, instilling inside me a healthy fear of consequences. I knew that running into the street was a very bad idea. I know that if my parents had not been at home, or if I had been some place other than home, I would have tried it. probably would've gotten pummeled by some negligent neighbor's garbage can...but I know I would've tried all the same. blast. woulda been so fun.

Anyways, eventually, when roll-call was taken and I was found absent without leave, a search party was formulated and I was found and forcibly brought inside to stand trial, even though I had obediently remained on the front porch.

Sadly, we did miss most of the storm. although, now that I think about it, it's probably for the best. spending my evening in the basement with two sobbing sisters (they would be sobbing, too, if we'd had to go to the basement, believe me) and utter chaos besides is NOT my idea of a good time. so yeah. save the good storms when I'm here alone or something. yeah, good idea.

So, I'm sorry this post is so long, but really it's two posts FUSED into one! Ta-Da! :D

Class, Caffeine and Indiana Jones

So I've started school again. it's definitely good to be back into it. granted, it's only one class, for now. later on, the number of classes I take, as well as number of notebooks I own, pencils to keep sharp, classroom numbers to remember, amount of gas I spend and stress I have will skyrocket. other things, such as the bank account, free time and general happiness will not be so fortunate.

So, my class is three nights a week from 5:30 to 9:30. how I managed to sucker myself into a night class, I'll never know. I can stay awake in front of my laptop in my bedroom until six in the morning, if I have a mind to do so. but somehow, it's different in a classroom where a lady is reading monotone from a textbook about laws and rules and whatnot. but so far I've done pretty well for myself. in fact, I've managed to stay awake about 80% of the time! rock on.

And how I managed to find myself sitting in the front row of the classroom, I'll never know. actually, I do know. first day of class, I showed up early. but not early enough, I guess, cause all the other seats were already taken, dagnabbit. you're probably wondering what's so horrible about the front row. a lot of things, kid, a lot of things. like if the teacher asks a question, she'll say something like, "Let's start with........YOU!" and jab her finger in the face of the person in the front row. people who sit farther back have more time to think of a good answer. also, when I'm falling asleep, because I'm sitting in the front row I have to restrain myself from slapping myself in the face.

So last night we watched this movie...where this lady, this "nurse" was talking and "educating" us about the tasks we would preform. this is an actual quote from that movie. "Sometimes, in this job, we are in contact with tiny microorganisms sometimes referred to as...germs!" I suppressed a groan from escaping my lips, or nearly did. Kelsey (my brother's girlfriend who is taking the class with me) gave me a half-glance, so I knew I had not fully succeeded. but it's okay, cause I knew she felt the same way. the movie continued. "And sometimes, if we're not careful, we can move these microorganisms from one place to another, sometimes called...spreading." I thought for sure that, by now, my brain was nothing more than a pile of useless pulp and any moment now it might oozing out my ears. this was too much. I couldn't take it. Someone kill me.

After the movie was (mercifully) over, my teacher declared a much needed break. I got up, stretched my legs and went in search of some caffeine. after a long search up some pretty scary stairs, I found my heart's desire in a very large, dimly lit room. it was very much like the Indiana Jones movies where he finds the thing he's been looking for, and it's sitting on a pedestal with a light shining down on it from a convenient hole in the cave roof or something. it was like that. by the way, does anybody else want to see that movie??? I want to see that movie. anyways, where was I? oh yeah.

So I trekked back down the scary stairs, clutching my cold, wet, carbonated (and CAFFEINATED!) drink and reentered the classroom. I gazed at my prize that I had paid a whole $1.25 for. Caffeine, do your thing. I silently commanded. Glug glug glug.

It seemed to work. I didn't get tired again for the duration of the class. the clock ticked slowly toward 9:30, our scheduled ending time. but by 8:30, we were finished with all our material. I held my breath, hardly daring myself to hope....

"Well, we're done with all the material for tonight..." the teacher observed, flipping through the book with a frown. yes? yes? I thought impatiently. the teacher suddenly smiled, making me instantly uneasy. Oh no... "Do you want to play pictionary or hangman?" she asked. instantly, various students started calling out which one they wanted to play.

I chanced a look at Kelsey. she chanced a look at me. I think we were both wondering whether to laugh or cry. Are you as suicidal as I am right now? I asked her with my eyes. I thought about pretending to make a gun with my hand and put it to my head, if for nothing more than my own amusement. I figured it would probably get a laugh out of Kelsey. but we were in the front row, so I couldn't or everyone would know I was not enjoying myself.

So for the next 45 minutes, we played hangman and pictionary with medical terminology. ooooh. wow. I just realized how cynical this post is. I'm not sure why whenever I'm cynical I feel a need to explain myself. The class really is a good one. I'm sure I'll get a lot out of it in the long run. I'm sure. So sure. So totally sure...

Ah, Coffee In The Speckled Mug

So I like to stay up late when I can. most of you already know that. and most of you probably figure I stay up late doing things and writing and keeping myself busy and entertained. and while this sounds plausible and is a good idea, it's usually NOT what I'm doing on those frequent nights when I'm up until three in the morning. no, usually when I pull an all-nighter (nighter isn't a word...I just realized that) I'm doing...well...not really anything. I sit on my computer and watch funny youtube videos or stare glassy-eyed at my empty inbox waiting for a new message to magically appear, as if anybody besides me actually stayed up until 3 for no good reason, let alone writing emails. yes, sometimes I am writing a bit of poetry or some stupid fiction story, but I find I can only write when inspired, and usually when it's almost sunup and my eyes are twitching and my brain is short-circuiting and blinking "COFFEE OVERLOAD" in big red letters I'm not even feeling human, let alone inspired.

So usually what happens before one of these all-nighters (wait...spellcheck says "nighter" isn't a word but "nighters" is. weird. it also says "spellcheck" isn't a word. I smell a rat) is that I'll kind of wander around the house for a little while at around ten o'clock, wondering what to do and mostly waiting for people to go to bed so I can have the house to myself. Nikki's really the only person who notices, and she knows when I do that, that I'm about to pull an all nighter (okay, I'm adding that word to my dictionary. the red spellcheck line is starting to bug me). and I don't know why, but she has problems with me staying up late at night. I think it all goes back to when we lived in rooms side by side in Ceresco and I always stayed up late and got four hours of sleep per night, and she always went to bed early and got eight and we both felt the same in the morning. I'm pretty sure she's still bitter about that.

Anyways, she always tries to talk me out of staying up late, as if it effects her happiness or something if I go to bed when she does. she always tries to get me to, like, turn against myself or something by asking questions like, "Why do you always feel like you have to stay up late?" Answer: "Pfft." or "Why don't you just go to sleep now? you know you're tired." Answer: "Pfft." and sometimes she even tries to pull the "It's not healthy to stay up so late." card. Answer: "Pfft. pfft. pfft." the only people who say staying up late isn't healthy are the people who are angry that they can't stay up late themselves. people like Nikki. poor souls.

After "pffting" Nikki into silence I flounce to my bedroom. I never really answer her questions because...well...I really don't have answers to them. why don't I go to bed? I...don't know. it's not like I have anything especially important to do. it's a mindset. maybe I was brainwashed once...like a Jason Bourne type thing. "must stay up late...must stay up late..." and when somebody asks "why?" it throws off my mindset and puts me on the defensive. "well...well...why NOT? hu, Mr. Smart Man? Why NOT?" Jo Bourne. nah. doesn't flow. forget that idea. and besides, being brainwashed to stay up late at night isn't nearly as cool as being brainwashed to kill people. yeah, scrap that idea.

I do love the nighttime, though. I like being awake when everyone else is asleep. it gives me a sense of power. "you have all succumbed to your natural human instincts and fallen into a voluntary coma. me? I've risen above and beyond my basic human needs and am staying awake until I dang well please. mwahaha."

After Nikki goes to her room with one last parting (and useless) jab about my going to bed, she's usually the last one, so I am left alone with myself and the coffee that I am about to make. I steal downstairs and brew me a pot, sipping it slowly while I decide how I'm going to spend my sleepless night. the possibilities are endless. and yet...beginningless. for the life of me...I can't think of anything to do.

So on any given night I'll go upstairs to my bedroom and goof around on my computer, watching funny youtube videos, watching (real) movies on my laptop, reading random stuff I've written, listening to music or any number of things that I could do during the daytime. nothing that I do at one a.m. is ever really anything that I couldn't do at noon on any given day. annoying.

Anyways. eventually, as I DO get tired at three or four, I find my head beginning to tilt backwards, because my eyes are starting to close involuntarily, and to see strait ahead, my head starts to tilt backwards. that's usually when I start to wonder if going to bed wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. usually after the head tilting begins, the next thing to start happening is when I blink, my eyes take longer and longer to open again. it's like...sheer willpower to make them go open again. after this starts happening, I give it another half hour, tops, before I fall victim to my own sleepiness and stagger like a drunk to my bed and collapse.

The next morning I get up, tired, yes, but I never regret when I've done. I don't know why. I know I ought to; after all, I never really did anything important in my all night escapade. I never really accomplished anything. I think the important reason that I stay up late is silence. silence is the best. and when you live in MY house...silence is pretty hard to come by, and when you DO come by it, you better enjoy it cause you never know when you'll come by it again. I guess that's my best reason for staying up late. I can't get silence during the day, so I'll get it at night when everybody has no choice but to be quiet, cause they're all ASLEEP! my own brilliance astounds me.

So I guess I'm done. it's two a.m., not quite as late as usual, but I'm a little bit more tired tonight, so I'm going to go ahead and skip the head tilt and the long blinks and head strait for bed--err--couch. who's idea was it to give me the guest bedroom? *grumble grumble* oh well. at least down here nobody cares how late I stay up.

G'night, all.

On A Lighter Note...

Most of the poetry that I post on here is deep and meaningful, but here's a little one for you that...well...isn't. enjoy. :)

I Will Trust Your Blinker

Late for work, I jump in my car
My car starts with a roar
I throw on the shades, put my car into gear
And put the peddle to the floor

I go to turn on another road
But the busy street is packed
And I know it’s going to be hard to turn
And keep my car intact

And then I see you coming my way
All other hope is gone
You’re moving too fast for me to get out
But you’ve got your blinker on

For just a small split second
I panic in indecision
You’ve got your blinker on
But I want to avoid a collision

You’re driving at a frightening speed
At the same speed my mind is thinking
You’re coming at me so terribly fast
But that little light is blinking

Well listen, buster, I’m late for work
I don’t have time for games
And as I watch you speeding close
From behind my tinted frames

I make a quick decision
About that little blinking light
I quickly pull onto the street
Grit my teeth and hang on tight

I look in my rear-view mirror
You’re still coming fast
Then I see you turn off your blinker
Oh blast.

There now! hope you liked it! it made me laugh when I first wrote it. have a great week everybody! oh, by the way, "Away" by Nightwish is a fantastic song. just thought I'd throw that out there cause that's what I'm listening to right now. seriously...it's sweet.