So it is now less than forty-eight hours until my junior recital (yes, I am a senior, but there was a delay, so I'll be doing two recitals in one year...cuz I love giving myself a hard time), and perhaps I should be getting some rest, perhaps I should be dreaming of notes bubbling forth from the keys beneath my fingers and floating across the sky like so many snowflakes in a snow globe...
And perhaps I'm not a genius with metaphors after midnight.
(Or this specific midnight, rather, since last night's writing was quite delightful)
It isn't that I'm not tired.
I am.
I have stayed up until three in the morning or later (earlier?) for the last week, not doing anything productive, unless you consider working on my first novel --first with potential to be finished, I should say-- to be something productive...which actually, I do, but being a novelist, a musician, and a full-time student all at once is not one of my brightest ideas, and so I...
I digress.
Apologies.
So, to get to the (rather unclear) point:
I don't want to go to sleep. Or I do, but I'm at an impasse...why? Well, let me elucidate for you...
My brain won't shut up. It keeps going on and on about things that I really couldn't care less about, but are yet somehow important...
Like the fact that I haven't taken my vitamins yet today. (Yesterday?) But if I don't fall asleep, I can still take Monday's vitamins even if it is technically Tuesday.
Like how I cannot for the life of me find the syllabus to my British Romantic literature class, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to have read for tomorrow...something by Shelley? Wordsworth? Why not just read the whole textbook and cover everything?
Why not jump off a cliff?
Like how that one Franz Ferdinand songs says...something completely inappropriate that I never noticed before and I want to laugh out loud except my roommate and her new dog are sleeping.
Like how that precious animal (named Gizmo, though thus far it does not appear he turns into a monster if you feed him or get him wet after midnight) bit me earlier when I was just trying to prevent him from choking on a piece of plastic, and how I'm almost certain that when I play piano, that part of my finger doesn't touch the keys...but what if it does? And what if it starts bleeding again? And what if even though he has all his shots, I still get rabies?
Like how I have five separate doctor bills from a little seizure I had in August but I will only be able to make payments on two of them this month --and only the bare minimum, which, for one of them, is five dollars, which sounds great, except the total bill is over three hundred times that.
Like how I applied for this position with the school newspaper as a copy editor for some extra cash --because despite my work-study paying a whopping nine dollars an hour, when you only work three hours a week, it doesn't make a single difference that you're making more than minimum wage; in fact, it creates a definite deficit-- and even though I know I'm a great editor and I know that they would be lucky to have me on their staff, they don't know that I'm the greatest thing in the world, because I lack entrance, past or present, in a little journalism class that they recommend a student has before applying to the job. But maybe they'll like me anyway, since I did receive a writing award from the entire English department last year...not that that means anything, but, well...
Like how I really need to deep-condition my hair or I'm going to end up losing it all...though now I think about it, Katey and I are practically twins, and she looks pretty kick-ass with super-short hair.
Like how I'm writing the libretto to a musical and I have assignments and everything and it's going to be official and I'll actually finish something I started and I don't have a clue --or the time to get one-- to what I am doing.
Like how my Dad will probably never be a part of my life again, and though that's sad, it also makes me really happy, because GOOD FUCKING RIDDANCE.
Like how I really shouldn't curse online because it sets a bad example and gives people a poor impression of me.
Like how if every song I sung from now on was either in French or in Japanese, I would be perfectly, perfectly, perfectly HAPPY. Because English is stupid and German gives me a headache and hell, I'm never going to really learn Portuguese or Russian no matter how hard I try.
Though maybe I like Latin.
Like how it's my baby sister's birthday today, and once again, I'm not there.
Like how it's my best friend's birthday on Wednesday, and I haven't seen her since her last birthday, and I was really hoping she and I would be doing our junior recitals together, and despite my love of Boston, will I ever really go out there to visit her??
Like how there is no PERFECT WORLD that you can take me to so I can relax.
Like how I keep making plans so even when all the insanity that Wednesday is bringing up is gone, there will be tens of thousands more ready and waiting to take its place.
Like how I miss my Mom. And I wish I'd been brave enough to ask my grandparents to come to my recital. Or my aunt and uncle, since Denver's really not that far away. I mean, yeah, I sent a Facebook invite, but who pays attention to those, right? I should have gotten out the fancy stationery like I planned...
Like how I hate that there's only glitter in my snow globe instead of snowflakes...not that there's a difference, per se, but at least most snow globes try to look legit. Stupid Nutcracker...
Like how I've never seen that performed before even though I love Tchaikovsky, and how there's a performance over the Thanksgiving weekend but I have plans and won't be back in time to go, even though I know where I can get a free ticket.
Like how I can't remember the thirty-third element on the periodic table. It's poisonous, germanium comes before, selenium comes after, but gah...
Like how much junk there is in my room that I bet I could throw away and never miss...but I won't because I'm sentimental and I like to keep everything forever...like those get-well cards from the sixth grade class when I had back surgery in eighth grade. Yes, I have a problem.
Like how if I don't get my shit together, Nadeshiko Alice or Fiona Margaret or Karma Jay or Samantha Johanne or whatever other names I have tumbling around in my head will not exist. EVER.
So...
I'm tired.
And my brain won't shut up.
And I just remember I have another math problem to finish.
Maybe I'll ruminate on it in the bath when I'm finished reading my English textbook.
Hah.
Maybe I'll pull on the eyemask and hope that shutting out the light shuts out all thoughts as well.
We'll see...
Until the next moment of delusion...
Cheers.
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