An insomniac’s tick

Oh hey, 2:30 a.m. Nice to see you again for the fourth or fifth time this week.

My mother has insisted that the candle in my window be on a timer. The timer ticks. Anything that ticks makes me tick. She knows this. But, at least I don’t have to turn my candle on every night. I’ll just turn my fan up a notch and hope the noise will wash away the ticks.

I had trouble sleeping as a young girl. “You think too much at night,” my mom would say. Why wouldn’t I? There’s so much to think about. My brain never stops.

I’d stay up late, light candles and write poetry. On balmy nights, I took to my favorite haunt: the roof outside my window, the one above the garage. With my pillow under my head, I’d look at the sky or watch over a sleepy neighborhood. Sometimes I’d have brief visions of falling off, hitting the driveway and cracking my head open, but they never came true.

Once or twice I stayed up all night to sit on the roof and watch the sun rise. I’d carefully crawl up the incline and perch at the top to watch the blue turn to pale pink. All by myself. Just my thoughts and me. The birds joined with the sunrise, but I never minded.

I’d stay up until two, three, four o’clock, just reading the book I’d retrieved by riding my bicycle to the library. Down one big hill, up another; all for an endless supply of books. My library card gave me the power to finish what The Boxcar Children started and learn many life lessons through Phyllis Reynolds Naylor’s Alice series. I had to stay up and finish my Nancy Drew book to solve the mystery. And with Laura Ingalls, I had to be sure she and Ma, Pa, Mary, Caroline and Grace were going to be okay before setting the book down. Don’t even get me started on Harry Potter. We all know how that goes.

It’s a rainy and windy first “morning” of winter. I wouldn’t dare venture out onto the roof, though it would be an easy feat with the screens off my windows. I already read as much as I could of The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood. I’m not writing poetry, but at least I’m writing something. Some things never change, I guess.

While the rest of the country is obsessing over end-of-the-world hashtags, I’m just thinking that, in 24 hours, I’ll be doing this same exact thing.

Use toilet. Wash face. Brush teeth. Pull back covers and settle into sleeping mode. Read bits of good book. Put book down.



Turn light back on. Initiate productivity.

Oh hey, 3 a.m., nice to see you again! Time to sleep.

Giant flip flops

I just tossed and turned for over half an hour. On nights like these, I tend to get out of bed and do something somewhat useful while my eyes are open. Why waste perfectly good time?

I read for a little while until the clock’s proclaimed time of 1:00 a.m. alarmed me. I should be sleeping, I thought. So I tried. I lay there, changing positions, switching arms, fluffing up my pillows.

Smoke wafted in through my open window. I fight the urge to scream out my window every time I smell it. Before our old R.D. left, people were not allowed to smoke outside on the stoop outside my window. Now that he’s gone, they don’t seem to care anymore. Sometimes marijuana floats up and into my lungs. I’m left with a headache and the prompt to deliver a nice “fuck you.”

I got up and shut my window, stifling the scream I wanted so badly to shriek. I heard the outside door open and close. Footsteps up the stairs next to my room followed. I opened my window again.

It’s quarter to 2:00. I haven’t seen this hour since Easter break. I spent all day today (technically yesterday) studying and stressing about statistics. It struck me as funny that, though I loathe statistics, I obsess over viewing “My Stats” on my blog.

On a different note, I squashed an ant today. It approached my foot, so I squished it. I heard it crackle under my grey flip flop. To my surprise, it scurried away as soon as I lifted my foot. It looked damaged, sure, but it still managed to get away from me and further harm.

I yearn to have the resilience of that ant. It sounds silly, but I gave it a lot of credit for carrying on. Too many people give up after little things. At least we never have to deal with getting crushed by a giant flip flop.


He has shown me how

Normally when Spring rolls around, I open my window, freshen up my room, enjoy the sound of birds singing and sit on the front porch to soak it all in. It’s been years since I have actually gone outside to play and run around and get some exercise. I have gotten back on track with my life.

I started eating breakfast again. Every morning, I dig out the Rice Krispies, pour myself a bowl along with a glass of OJ and then settle down with one of my daily vitamins that I need to up the iron level in my body. I’m a girl, you see, and girls need more iron than boys do. I have established a rather strict routine to keep up with everything. I don’t scramble to get homework done anymore; I get it done right after it’s assigned and then I don’t have to worry. It’s fun not having any worries. Hakuna Matata!

Last Sunday, I was sick, which is odd for me. I’m NEVER sick. The last time I missed school was when I had pink eye – that doesn’t qualify as the queasiness I’m speaking of now. I get plenty of Vitamin C, take cough syrup when I feel a cold coming on and suck it up when I have a tiny stomachache. But, on this day, I woke up, felt awful, vomited a couple times and then took to the couch for the rest of the day, with only my pillow, a blanket, a heating pad and the drone of a television to keep me company. That one day was the first day in well over a month that I was completely miserable. Part of it has to do with the fact that I felt like I was going to die. The other part was the fact that it was the first day in a streak of nineteen that I hadn’t spent the day with Robby. Yeah, you read correctly. We are inseparable. When I told this to some people in my English class the Monday after that dreadful Sunday, one girl (who was astounded, I might add) asked me, “how do you get all of your schoolwork done?” because, well, Robby is over at my house or I’m over at his every school night. I replied with “well, while you guys are all talking during the free time we have in Chemistry, I sit down and get all of my homework done.” This relates back to the routine I now have down pat. I get all of my homework done and then I don’t have to worry about it, and plus, I get to see Robby. Which yeah, I could get my homework done after he leaves, but that’s generally around 10 o’clock and lately I’ve been getting to bed around 10:30, which is very, very early for me. But hey, it’s all a part of wanting to live a healthier lifestyle.

Now, back to the part about Spring. Normally, I watch it happen. This year, I’ve been a part of it. Robby has shown me how. If it’s nice out, you’d better believe we’re outside doing something. We spent March 21st jumping from cliffs into pits of sand. I definitely lived that day. It felt good to live. Since then, we’ve taken countless walks, gazed at the stars, swung on the swings behind his house, jumped on the trampoline, played catch, ridden our bikes and sat out on the porch with smoothies that I surprised him with. I saw him three different times today, much like I did yesterday. He surprised me by stopping by this morning on his bike before heading out to practice. After practice, he rode right back, and I welcomed him with a strawberry banana smoothie I’d made up for him in my hand. Then, back he came for the real plans that we had made for today. My feet get covered with dirt everyday, and it’s such a great feeling.

I feel healthy. I feel free. I feel fun. I’ve felt the sun on countless occasions already, and Spring has hardly even started. I have a good feeling about everything, and I hope this never stops. I’m the old me with a new twist, and there are so many people out there that are happy to see that I’ve returned to my happy, bubbly self. I’m back.

My waffle cone of life

Over a week ago now, we stopped at a place called Charbroil (a small burger joint) and got ourselves some ice cream. Mom got her chocolate and vanilla twist and I got my favorite chocolate peanut butter cup (I prefer hard ice cream) cone where I always forget that it has too much peanut butter in it before I order it.

We got back in the car where Jordan and Grady were waiting, and off we went again. They settled into the secluded driver and shotgun conversation, so I put Pandora in my ears and listened to something of my own. This whole time I was licking my ice cream and loving the extra peanut butter. I pet Grady, changed a song once or twice and licked my ice cream while staring out the window and admiring the vineyards rolling by.

I didn’t even realize that I had reached the cone until the automatic response to bite the cone overwhelmed me. That’s when I found out the sad truth. The girl who had scooped out the ice cream and placed it into my cone hadn’t shoved it down to the bottom of the cone. She just scooped it and put it on the top without bothering to push it down.

So, here I was, absolutely horrified that I had licked it leisurely thinking I still had the rest that was in the bottom of the cone to enjoy. I wolfed all of the scoops on top down because I was looking forward to what was in the bottom, which is my favorite part. Then, to find that it wasn’t there? It hit me hard. And, I realized that that is exactly how life is.

We’re all too busy living as fast as we can; trying to grow up before we actually have a chance to. We wish our lives away because, apparently, being older and responsible for ourselves is supposed to be more fun than having adult supervision all the time. The truth is, it’s not.

I ate the ice cream on top super fast because of my anxiousness to get to the bottom. But, I didn’t realize what I had until it was gone. I had to push what was left of the ice cream down to the bottom with my tongue, just so I wouldn’t be eating a dry waffle cone. My childhood went too fast…now I’m trying to push as much of it down to my waffle cone of life just to coat it enough so I can remember my childhood forever. It’s almost gone, and I’m just realizing how amazing it was.

Happy Tuesday!

A weight has been lifted (literally – see last full paragraph). I can finally think freely and openly without the Anthology clouding over my cluttered mind. It feels great.

I would be able to enjoy this more if my sleepiness wasn’t dominating my entire being. Though I was more prepared than any of my classmates, I ended up staying up until about 1:30 this morning working on it feverishly. I had everything typed out, but you know me – Miss Overachiever. Being the little miss overachiever that I am, I stayed up for three extra hours just to insert pictures for some extra credit. Sure, some were necessary, but I’ll admit that I might have gone a wee bit overboard.

But just a wee bit.

Now I just want to sleep. I opened the window next to me, so I have a nice breeze cooling my overheated body, but I just need to lie down, curl up, and take a nap. Why did we waste time in Kindergarten with nap time? I think high schoolers need it now more than ever.

I’ve lost weight, so the jeans I grabbed this morning on a whim are, of course, the ones that seem to not be able to hug my body snugly anymore. What size am I supposed to go down to now? Triple zero? The ones I’m wearing right now are double zero and they’re too big. I’ll either have to gain my weight back, or buy myself a belt. Choice two is sounding great right now.

Lovely. Now that I have too much time on my hands (*clap clap*) it’s raining out. Happy Tuesday, Emily! *groans*

Tomorrow mourning

Tomorrow morning will arrive and announce itself as the last morning of vacation. Tomorrow will bring the first of many lasts.

I will wake up at around ten o’clock tomorrow morning and roll over, rubbing my eyes the whole time. I will then sit up and admire my newly cleaned out closet and maybe turn my iPod on for a minute and enjoy some of my favorite tunes. It will be the last morning where I can lazily creep out of bed and head downstairs without shooting worrisome looks at the clock. I will help myself to whatever food I can find in the kitchen, and then laze away by the pool or watch some TV until I have to attend cross country practice.

By this time tomorrow night, I will be in bed staring out my window. I will have already watched the sun go down, mourning the last sunset of my summer. The night bugs will provide a mournful chorus as I glance around my room and see my outfit all set out for the morning. Tonight is the last night that I can stay up until God knows when and then wake up late. The mellow drone of the bugs will lull me to sleep, and the next morning I will wake up to one of the carefully picked out songs bursting out of my iHome. I will then lie in bed for a full thirty minutes, wondering what awaits me when I enter that same old school building.