I have weird dreams.
When I say weird, I mean premonition, deja vu, badda bing badda boom dreams.
And I don't like them.
Sometimes they come true...it's freaky. Normally only when it's a dream I can remember...but since I'm a nut and am constantly daydreaming, I have a hard time differentiating between what dreams are real and which are imaginary stories in my head.
Let's just say this last one better be fake.
I'm sitting here in the Denver airport with nothing better to do than ponder the meaning of life. I really love the free internet here...I mean, who the hell has the nerve to charge 8 bucks for a half hour of wifi? That's preposterous. I'm definitely pro universal wireless...the world will be a much better and more connected place.
Of course, this is coming from a freakishly obsessed internet fiend who can't wait to move to Africa and get rid of Myspace, Facebook, LJ, blogspot, etc etc etc....but until then, I'll indulge.
I'm on the way to Reno. I discovered a long time ago, the first time I moved there actually, that I didn't belong. I don't fit in with the people, I have different goals than the majority, and I act like a 60 year old gin drinking man. But Reno is where my family is, so technically that is "home." Even though I feel like a stranger. Reno's a small town, something that I remind myself of every time I click around the Myspace/Facebook world we reside in. Someone knows someone who knows someone who works with someone. It's like a small town cest pool.
I shouldn't run into Big. Because I never ran into him while we were dating and I shouldn't run into him when we aren't, right? Of course, Newton will have something to say about that assumption. I digress. It's ok. I am just another American woman living. Average. No?
I will hopefully be able to handle the maturity gap for two weeks. I don't mean to offend, but if you think about it, I'm actually putting my self down. Twenty year olds aren't supposed to act like mothers, 60 year old men, or drink gin and dry red wine. But I do, so deal.
I left my mat at home (NYC home). Too many Christmas gifts. So I'll be diving into Ashtanga on the icky poo mat...but I can't wait.
Speaking of yoga, my roomie walked in on me in lunge bind today. Talk about awkward moment. But I had to get my fix for the day!
This is a completely uneloquent mumbo jumbo of oh wait, I went to sleep at 3, got up at 6:30, took a final, got home by 9:30, and cleaned my entire apartment. After yoga, of course. AND packed. I'm a super trooper.
I think I really want soft serve right now. I don't eat ice cream very often...and I still have an agonizing hour before my plane departs.
Apparently my brother crashed the car coming back from his girlfriend's. Um. Girl. Friend. Somehow he's starting to have a functional relationship. I on the other hand am being called mom by the other's seven year old while baking cookies. Functional? I think not.
One day I will stop being a selfish attention whore. Until then, just embrace me.