Thursday, December 18, 2003
the aeroplane flies high
the process of packing is long and tedious, often taking me hours to complete. there are constant motivation breaks consisting of sodas and IMs. i often break down in tears, at least once. so, when the holidays roll around, i don't look forward to returning home. there's too much to do, i don't want to be doing. i want to stay in one place. one unchanging thing. instead, i am whisked out of my dorm room to sit on planes for several hours, then a long car ride home, where i will collapse in a heap with my dog begging for attention and the cat kneading her paws into my arm.
yesterday, i found myself surprisingly organized for someone that slept through their 4am alarm. in fact, packing went a bit too smooth. too fast. everything falling into place. i found myself able to fit everything i wanted in my suitcase, instead of doing the stereotypical move of lying flat on top of one's bag in order to make everything fit inside. i went on the T instead of taking a taxi, saving myself 20 dollars of roller coaster and cranky drivers. not to mention, while on the subway, some important political somebody appeared with an entourage of other importants. there were cameras. and flashes. and smiling way too big.
i didn't know who he was. but i also thought i recognized another man as stephen king. i think i was wrong.
my belt went off through security. always does. i got starbucks caremel apple cider and burnt my tongue. like always. couldn't find a seat while waiting to board my plane, got furious at this boy and yelled a bit too loudly, "where the fuck do you want me to seat then?" and sat on the floor and listened to the new strokes cd. (thanks numidas)
on the plane i slept through beverages and mini pretzels. i woke up in chicago and in the airport i bought a fancy sandwich for 6 dollars. on the plane, i got bored sitting next to an asian man and his wife. they had the cutest child ever. she slept the whole way. i read v for vendetta. tried to listen to music. noise of airplane didn't allow for that priviledge. i wrote. i read some more. then i fell asleep.
in dallas, i took a green surburban back home. i talked about fleetwood mac and jazz and blues. i felt smart. i felt tired. i wanted miso soup. at home, i watched a special on charles dickens on PBS, where they conducted interviews with his parents and with dickens himself. it was weird.
i went to sleep at 10pm. since i couldn't find my super nintendo.
¶ 1:17 PM
|
the process of packing is long and tedious, often taking me hours to complete. there are constant motivation breaks consisting of sodas and IMs. i often break down in tears, at least once. so, when the holidays roll around, i don't look forward to returning home. there's too much to do, i don't want to be doing. i want to stay in one place. one unchanging thing. instead, i am whisked out of my dorm room to sit on planes for several hours, then a long car ride home, where i will collapse in a heap with my dog begging for attention and the cat kneading her paws into my arm.
yesterday, i found myself surprisingly organized for someone that slept through their 4am alarm. in fact, packing went a bit too smooth. too fast. everything falling into place. i found myself able to fit everything i wanted in my suitcase, instead of doing the stereotypical move of lying flat on top of one's bag in order to make everything fit inside. i went on the T instead of taking a taxi, saving myself 20 dollars of roller coaster and cranky drivers. not to mention, while on the subway, some important political somebody appeared with an entourage of other importants. there were cameras. and flashes. and smiling way too big.
i didn't know who he was. but i also thought i recognized another man as stephen king. i think i was wrong.
my belt went off through security. always does. i got starbucks caremel apple cider and burnt my tongue. like always. couldn't find a seat while waiting to board my plane, got furious at this boy and yelled a bit too loudly, "where the fuck do you want me to seat then?" and sat on the floor and listened to the new strokes cd. (thanks numidas)
on the plane i slept through beverages and mini pretzels. i woke up in chicago and in the airport i bought a fancy sandwich for 6 dollars. on the plane, i got bored sitting next to an asian man and his wife. they had the cutest child ever. she slept the whole way. i read v for vendetta. tried to listen to music. noise of airplane didn't allow for that priviledge. i wrote. i read some more. then i fell asleep.
in dallas, i took a green surburban back home. i talked about fleetwood mac and jazz and blues. i felt smart. i felt tired. i wanted miso soup. at home, i watched a special on charles dickens on PBS, where they conducted interviews with his parents and with dickens himself. it was weird.
i went to sleep at 10pm. since i couldn't find my super nintendo.
¶ 1:17 PM
|
