Sunday.nightz

Sometimes when I wake up, I think: HOLY SHIT!  It’s usually the result of some fantastic sex dream or revelatory moment in sleep land.  Less often, it’s because I had too much wine and had a lucid dream about being in a Nintendo 64 game.  This morning—I guess yesterday morning now that midnight has passed and 1:00am is swiftly approaching—was a matter of the latter.



"There's Something Wrong with the G-Diffuser"



If I could describe to you what it feels like to be the pilot of an Arwing in all-range-mode, I would.  I have neither the time nor the sensibility to actually put into words what it feels like to be flying with Fox, Peppy, and Slippy.  (Obviously I replaced Falco because I am too cool for school.  My best instincts are telling me that this is not what would actually happen as I am clearly a Slippy.  You know, “Thanks, Fox!  I thought they had me!”  Such.  A.  Flirt.)  Flying felt enjoyable in my dream, which was odd because I actually despise flying; the thought of doing it on my own, as a pilot no less, is even less comforting.  Still, it was like one of the top ten dreams ever.

Anyway, when I woke up I caught myself say “Do a barrel roll!” out loud and subsequently thought: HOLY SHIT! 

I was inspired.

Drew’s family is here in London.  Well, his parents are here.  His brothers were left out of the equation, though I don’t think that Christy (spelling?  Why don’t I just ask Drew… ah, yes, he’s sleeping) and Todd mind spending some time alone together in Europe; I certainly wouldn’t!  They are wonderful individuals.  Christy is just radiant and Todd is a grown up Drew—who could mind that?  We were all gushing over them after dinner (which they paid for; many thanks!) and I am sure that Drew was thinking: Here we go again; everyone just loves to hang out with my parents.  Seriously though, so nice.

I bring them up because I miss my family and my friends back in the states and I am starting to wonder what it will be like to see them again.  I have tried to keep an okay handle on what’s going on back home, but I admit that I am more interested in living in the moment here.  Will it be like meeting old friends for the first time in ages where everything is all about catching up and reconnecting?  Or will it be like I never left on this adventure and we’ll all just mesh together perfectly as soon as I step off the plane?  I worry about these things.  I worry about many things, really.

My worrisome habits do not mix well with my impulsive nature.  Though, it does make for some pretty interesting internal banter.

Most importantly: I miss my family and friends, and though I hate to use the ‘J’ word, I am jealous that I’ve seen two sets of parents visiting their sons.   Catharsis at its finest: I don’t miss them as badly already!

Next! 

Last night held a brand new experience: seeing a movie, in a cinema, alone.  I went to Easy A, featuring Emma Stone and Amanda Bynes, all by my lonesome.  First, I had planned on seeing it with someone who, turns out, had already seen it.  Then there was a group of us going, but each of them backed out.  I said I wasn’t going to go, but I figured, Hey, why not try this whole “just one for Easy A” thing out.  Simply: it just isn’t as fun without someone to go with.  The movie, luckily, was fracking hilarious and strangely poignant at times.  I thought Stanly Tucci was a standout as well.  I guess that I am glad to have had the experience, but I don’t think that I would recommend it over seeing a film with friends.

On my way home from the film, while listening to Beyoncé chronicle my life through her music, I watched a very attractive man board the tube and sit down just across from where I was standing.  (There were plenty of empty seats, but I like to practice being taller when I can help it.)  Anyway, while he was sitting, fiddling with his ear buds and twirling the tassels of his scarf, he must have felt subconscious of the small, and I do mean very, very small, spot of acne on his upper lip.  He puttered around with it, pushing it, prodding it until it become much more noticeable than it ever was.  Suddenly there’s blood everywhere and the poor guy cannot get it to stop.  He smeared his finger on the bridge of his nose without noticing it, creating a line of war paint from the corner of his eye all the way to his nostril.  He continued to wipe the blood from his lip onto his scarf until he gave up and just let the wound drip.  When I exited, casually taking the longer route in order to pass him by, I said “missed a spot” and pointed to my nose.  He turned and looked into his reflection in the glass behind him.  He was still staring when I walked passed him from the outside.  He smiled and asked, “Did I get it?”  He hadn’t.  Still, I grinned and replied, “Looks great.”

Interactions like these stick out to me more than the big, exciting events in my life ever do.  I want to know why that is…I want to know very badly.  What’s so much more interesting about a bloody spot than the idea of leaving for Scotland in three days?  My attention is misplaced, me thinks.

I guess that’s why you get to hear about my odd dreams and my first experiences rather than the mundane details of this Monday afternoon like, “I went to the library for three hours and tried to put a schedule together for next semester.  Then I returned some books.  Then I ran for thirty minutes and did some abs.  Then I…”  I am more interested in the little things that somehow feel much bigger than they are.  Strange phenomenon, eh? 

I stayed up reading until 3am for no reason other than pleasure: it was worth it, definitely.  When I finish this book today, it will be the third novel I've read in my short time in London, and I already have three more in line!  I am happy that I have been able to read for pleasure still; that's something I don't get to do during the school year.       

Then again, this isn't a normal school year.  This a school year for me.