Notes on Yesterday

Notes I wrote myself last night to blog about:

Identifying with New Moon:
In the spirit of diving back into Young Adult books I recently finished the book Twilight and have started listening to the sequel, New Moon. Over all I find the series to be a bit repetitive and overly dramatic. However, it's about adolescents and vampires - drama was gonna be a given. But beyond that little summarization: I was listening to it the other day on my drive home, and found myself relating to the main character (a non-vampire character). This realization disturbs me a little. I don't really want to be relating to her drama, but I was. WTF. (that was me trying to be funny, with the acronym-teen speak, did it work?).

MSCL Moment:
Yesterday my mom and I went to a party thrown for a childhood and family friend who just graduated nursing school. As I was getting ready to go see her I felt this flash to My So-Called Life. This friend, E., and I first met when we were 2 years old, and where best friends till middle school. So the story-line in MSCL where Angela and Sharon drift apart was something I identified with, although I couldn't tell you which character I was in that story. To me, E. was always both of those characters. She was both popular and dangerous. I was average. I was Brian Krakow. Although this isn't true either, as I was not an
academic or considered especially "dorky", at least not to my knowledge.
Anyways, E. went on to be popular, cool; she went to parties and dated. I went on to being average. But there was never any animosity. I never resented her, or vis versa. We just drifted to different people, and that was ok. No hard feelings, just a supportive friendship whenever our worlds infrequently crossed. Which they did again yesterday, and it was great to see her.

E.'s house:
I basically grew up at E.'s house when I was younger. I would spend whole weekends at her house. There weren't that many kids in my neighborhood, but just a few blocks up, near her house, there were several in the span of 3 blocks. So I was the adopted member of the neighborhood gang. Anyways, since those days E.'s moved twice, and while I've been to each house in turn, it's been, I don't even know how long since I
was in their home again. At least two years. (Side note: I hate how after a break up it's like life has this Christ-like time line: "B.S. and A.S.: Before Scott and After Scott" in my head. When is that gonna end?) Anyways, the last time I was in E.'s house was probably B.S. Walking around the house was like walking through a museum of my
childhood, but not quite. All the artifacts where the same, with new ones added that I didn't recognize, but they weren't in the right place. The picture that used to hang over the fireplace now hangs on a crowded wall, the couch that became faded from sun in the play room now rests in a windowless room. They were all in this new house, and it just threw me to see things so recognizable in such anunfamiliar place. Like seeing your teacher outside of class, or pictures of your parents before they had children. The features, the people are the same, but the context seems misplaced.

Pets/Dogs are personifications of their owners:
Pets, like children, are products of their environment. I feel like this is especially true of dogs. I heard someone talk about this dog the other day, saying it acted like a puppy even though it was older. I thought to myself, "Well is that really a surprise? So does it's owner". This is just as true for my family dog. Lucy is anxious, needy and loving while still being anti-social, and has food issues - yep, she belongs to us.


No Sleeping:
I haven't been sleeping at all lately. It's been going on for so long, I can't even tell you. Last week I would stay up till 2 or 3 in the morning, and then get up at 6 for work. It was a sad sight, till finally on Friday I just crashed. Still up late but once I finally fell asleep I was out, and actually slept well. But the cycle as restarted this week. Not quite as late, but till about 1, and when I do
sleep, it's a fit-full. It's hard to remain peppy and optimistic on poor sleep. Last night it was happening again, but with the added problem of allergy induced misery. At 1:00 I'd had enough and went upstairs for some benadryl. An hour later it had worked it's magic, but with disturbing accuracy. My last conscious memory is of laying on my side while pulling my pillow into a hug. Next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes to see the pillow just inches from my face, my arm still outstretched over it. This scares me a little bit; to be so knocked out that I didn't even move. Not to mention I
felt like I was on a bendryl hang-over all day. But, here we are again, it's 12:56 am, I'm tired as can be, and yet I know if I put myself to bed, I will just lay there.

That's what I got from yesterday. I could go on about today's benadryl haze, Good Friday church service, or any number of other things. But this post is pretty long winded as it is, so we'll leave that for another late night.