Why You Should Get a Good Night's Sleep

I've been a really awful blogger lately! This semester has just been amazingly crazy. Anyway, though, I have a story. Sort of.

So, I went to bed early last night because I had to finish/write an essay in the morning because I didn't feel like working on it then. Well, as soon as I got into bed, the boys who live upstairs decided to have a birthday party, complete with singing (screaming at the top of their lungs) and what sounded like jumping jacks. Right above my bed. I'm actually amazed the roof didn't collapse. This went on until about four in the morning, when some of them left. And as they left, they made sure to jump on each stair so that my floor would be sure to hear it all.

My alarm went off an hour later. Somehow, even though I'd only had an hour (maybe two, tops) of sleep, I managed to dream. I can't remember my whole dream, but it had to do with a giant (by giant, I mean as tall as a two story house) bottle of orange soda about to explode. And, you see, I had to get away from it because this had happened before and a girl was killed. By orange soda. Oh, and in the dream I had a bunch of essays I hadn't written yet that I was stressing about. Well, that bit's realistic, I guess.

The weirdest part of it all, though, is what happened when I was actually awake. Because as I sat in my bed, trying to make myself get out of it, I saw one of my roommate's towel, hanging by the bed post. For a good moment, I just sat there, wondering whether it really was a towel, or if it was some creepy troll that would lunge at me and kill me if I got up. Not my proudest moment. In my defense, though, I did eventually come to the conclusion that it was a harmless towel, and I did finish my essay in time.

But I'm never getting up at such an inhuman hour as 5 am again. Maybe.

The Motel

“Who do you think stayed here before us?” Ella asked. She sat on one of the two twin beds, on the yellow, orange and green floral comforter. It was starched almost stiff and straight out of the gaudy seventies.

Milo looked over from his bags. “What do you mean?”

“I mean who do you think’s stayed here? This is a motel- each room probably gets at least a hundred guests a year. Who do you think they were? And why here?”

Milo shrugged. He unfolded a white button down and shook it out in front of them. “Whoever they were,” he murmured, “they definitely weren’t rich.” He walked over to the fake wood wardrobe. It squeaked when he opened it, and he gave a small smile that just almost revealed his dimples. “See?”

Ella wanted to say, ‘I’m glad you’re talking again. I’m glad you’re smiling,’ but she didn’t want to remind him of the fact. She didn’t know what that would make him do, if it would make him swirl into that terrible state of nothingness again. So she bit that thought back, and grinned at him. “What? This doesn’t feel like luxury to you?”

“Els, the water comes out orange.”

“See, I thought that was pretty awesome. Like, we’re too cool for normal colored water.”

Milo gave a short laugh that he tried to pass off as a cough. “Yeah, well, most people don’t think like that.”

“Okay, so maybe they are poor, but maybe they just want to try something new.”

He rolled his eyes at her and went to get another shirt out of his bags. “Yeah?” he said, “and how did they like the new experience of washing their faces with rust?”

“They loved it.”

“No. That’s not how people are. That’s not how normal people are. Normal people, they like comfort. They like knowing that the water they’re bathing in isn’t going to give them some flesh eating disease, and they like knowing that the person –"

“It’s okay, Milo,” she said quietly. On the bed, next to Ella, the baby shifted in her carrier. “Why don’t you try holding her again?” she asked.

Milo turned away. “So, who are these people, anyway?”

“I don’t know. Brother and sister, maybe?”

“No. Not brother and sister.”

“Okay, but, you know, you’re not really helping. Who do you think they are?”

“Perfect strangers.”

“Yeah, because two people who know absolutely nothing about each other choosing to share a motel room is wicked likely.”

“Dude, Ella," he said, looking up at her, “you’re the writer. You’re the one who’s good at making this stuff up.”

She gave a tiny pink smile. “Come on, you know I’m only good at writing it down. You were always way better than me at making it all up. Like, remember when we were kids and you made up the story about the man in the woods who-”

“Okay, so they’re not strangers." He looked at the baby on the bed. Looked at the chocolate earth fuzz on her head. At the shut petals keeping the churning ocean eyes she got from her mother safe. His daughter. He swallowed and looked away; it was just too hard. "Okay, they're friends. Friends looking for something new."

Ella pushed back the wriggly curls of her hair out of her eyes. "You sure you don't want to hold her?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. I would only wake her up, anyway." He hesitated, and walked over to the window. The curtains were the exact match to the bed spread. Awful. He opened them, but it was too overcast for any sunlight to pour through. Outside, on the small navy stone parking lot was his blue car. It still had a couple bags of luggage in its backseat, but they could wait. It was starting to rain snow, anyway, slush pouring down and landing melted in the cracks of the rocky ground. Kids smoking cigarettes under the safety of the eaves laughed and flicked ash into the shivery thunder air until the wind was too much for them, even, and they jostled inside, leaving the brown door banging. The cigarettes in the damp stone ashtray blew away. They swirled carelessly in the wind only to be pounded and pelted back to the ground by the heavy slush. One got stuck in the rocks. Milo shut his eyes briefly and turned back to Ella and fluorescent yellow lights. They flickered, a little.

"Looking for something new," he added quietly, "but they don't know exactly what it is, yet."

"Like how everyone is, or different?"

"I don't know. Maybe both."

Ella opened her mouth to ask what he could possibly mean by that, but something in Milo's eyes made her change her mind. "How old are they?" she murmured, instead.

Milo blinked. "Not old," he started, "Maybe early twenties? Like us?"

Ella nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. It was getting kind of cold. "That works," she said. "Did they go to college?"

"Maybe they did, but they didn't stay. They couldn't finish because they didn't want to have to get a job afterwards, and have kids. Or they didn't want to have to. Not yet. Not until they understood everything better."

"And now they're here."

"Were here," Milo corrected, and then sighed. He leaned against the white washed walls. "Weren't here," he said. "None of this is actually real, and it's retarded. Who cares if some kids were annoyed once because life isn't how they expected it to be? I didn't expect my life to be like it is, either. I didn't expect her to leave, or disappear, or whatever she it is did."

Ella got up from the bed. She wondered if she should hug him, but it'd been so long since she'd last done that that she couldn't. She went to the thermostat instead, and tapped it. "You know," she said, her open face turned away. "None of this is your fault."

He laughed, but it was bitter.

She glanced over, fighting with her body to not reveal to her brother how helpless she was feeling. "This room has a microwave, right?" she offered, "because the baby will probably be awake soon and I thought I should start getting some formula ready for her. No orange water for this kid."

Milo wandered over to the bed and sat, his face buried in his hands. "I should be looking for her," he whispered.

"It's been a month. Please, you can't go on like this."

Milo grabbed his coat. "Yeah, I can," he said.

"You have no reason to believe that she's over here. You don't even know if she's alive!"

Milo blinked. "She's my wife," he croaked, and walked out the door with a gush of frosty wind. His grey jacket blended perfectly with his surroundings, Ella thought. A small uncertain part of her wondered if she'd ever see him again. She wondered if she should run after him, to stop him from doing anything stupid. She was his sister, after all. But she didn't. She looked at the baby sleeping in the carrier like a frozen photograph, and went to her.

Okay, so I was just wondering what you guys thought of this? Is it too vague, or do you like that? I edited it a lot to make it more obvious that Ella and Milo are siblings, and the baby is Milo's child. Did you get it, and did you like that it wasn't totally clear until it was nearing the end? Any other comments would be awesome, too. Thanks!

Write like the Ocean

So, lately I've been feeling kind of uninspired with my writing and basically everything. I think I'm starting to get it back, though. I have a bunch of ideas, but none of them are too solid yet. I still have to work on them. But, here's a poem. I wrote it a few months ago, but I think it fits.


I want to write like the
ocean. I want my thoughts to
roll like waves and
pull like the undertow,
capturing me.
I want them to be as beautiful as a siren
or a mermaid, and as
desperate,
desolate, as
hopeful.
I want souls to swim to the farthest,
most confusing depths and then come up,
staring into the crystallized rainbow sun
peering through the blurry
shield of the water and then they
hear the seagull’s wail because they’re near
land and everything’s
probably gonna be okay.

I want to look out into the deepest parts of the sea and think,
oh,
I helped make that.

Lava Lamps are Made of Wax

True Story.

Anyhoo, my beautiful roomie Maggan got a dream dictionary for Christmas. But this isn't just any dream dictionary- it's a racist, offensive dream dictionary. Or, at least, a few of the entries are. So in the spirit of amusement, I'm going to post some of the 'best' ones. Oh, and some of them I'll just posting because they're ridiculous. I mean, some of the entries make no sense, but they aren't all awful.

"Alien: Meeting aliens predicts important changes. See yourself as an alien and valuable friends are about to enter into your life." I dunno, I just can't get the image of little green aliens out of my head...

"Anteater: Bankruptcy could be in the cards if you see an anteater." Oh, well, obviously.

"Barmaid: She relates to your sex life. She's telling you to be a bit more choosey about your partners!" You whore, you.

"Barnacles: These are a sign that you will have a comfortable old age." 'Cause Barnacles are so comfy.

"Beheading: If you are beheaded, success will be yours." Yeah, dude. All that head ever did is hold you back!

"Boy: See an alter boy, and it's a warning to stop being so flighty!" I don't even need to say anything about this one, do I?

"Carcass: A sign of prosperity." But only if you're Bear Grylls.

"Drink: If you're single, a hangover is a warning against casual sex." No sex till marriage, kids, or you'll have another headache in your sleep. And get AIDS. And die.

"Family: To have a son in your dreams signifies success. If he's unmarried you have problems to face. Married, and you're in for some family worries." Wait... I thought this was supposed to be good? Unless there's a way to be neither married nor not married?

"Fish: Put on an act and problems will arise if you dream of jellyfish." Jellyfish are EVIL. Same with Bees.

"Food: Eat fat, and your love life will go well." Wait. Fat as in ice cream and mac n cheese, or... actual fat? Ew.

"Food: A highland Haggis spells money on the way if you eat it." Ach nay, Haggis.

"Food: Stop flirting if you dream of watercress." Watercress: the food of harlots. A.

"Foreign: An Arab is a warning to take care. You could be molested while on a trip." Yeah, this is the racist one. Also, oh shit.

"Foreign: See an Eskimo and money is going to be tight." ??

"Genitals: Dream of diseased sex organs and you've either been overdoing it or sleeping around. Try being a bit more faithful." Yeah. Fucking Whore. A.

"Hunchback: Pleasant news is about to arrive. Touch the hunchback and good luck is yours." Yeah! Hey, everyone; let's go touch the magic cripple!!!!!

"Insects: Bees symbolize hard work and success." No! Bees are EVIL!!! Just like jellyfish!

"Opium: You are mixing with a bad lot." Oh, shit. I always dream about doing opium... sorry, friends. Guess I can't hang out with you guys anymore.

"Rabies: Someone is trying to undermine you and it's probably a so-called friend." One of your friends (sorry, so-called friends) is trying to give you rabies. Sucks.

"Rape: Careless behavior could cost you your reputation. Think carefully or you are bound to disappoint people." .........

"Reading/Writing: Read a book, buy one or receive one and it's a hopeful omen." Okay, I actually do like this one. Books are awesome. Everybody, read. Toes. <3

"Relationships: If a man dreams of bigamy it can mean a loss of virility so go for a medical check-up." *Snicker*. Also, this sentence really needs some commas -.-

"Pirates: Pirates at sea and you will tempted to start an exciting new venture." Arrr, matey. Become a pirate. We have rum.

"Sounds: A lamb bleating says business will prosper. Hear a flock of them at it and your home life will be happy." Seriously, what can't sheep do? They're wicked awesome <3

"Unicorns: Not a good sign." LIES!!!

Oh, and there are way more entries, too. There's like a million. Awesome, horrible book. Amazing.

*for copyright stuffs, the quoted parts aren't mine, they're from The Illustrated Dream Dictionary by Russell Grant. Toes. <3

Technology Hates Me

I'm not even joking. It's like it sees that I suck at it and's like, 'hey, let's have fun and die on her!'

I got my iPod and my laptop about a year and a half ago, and since then I've gone through two laptop chargers, and my laptop's screen. Well, now my iPod's breaking. I mean, it works fine if I don't touch it while I'm listening to it, but if I do, especially in the part where the ear buds connect to it, the sound gets all messed up. I still listen to it, but it's wicked annoying, and I'm worried that pretty soon it might actually die. And, naturally, my iPod isn't the only thing to be acting up. My macbook is, too. Sort of. I mean, all it does is buzz once in a while. I don't actually know if it's a big deal, but whenever anyone hears it, they always say that it could be really bad.

So, now I'm trying to backup my iTunes. Compared basically everyone else, I don't have that much music. I only have about 1400 songs. Still, the website I'm using is making me upload my music 5 songs at a time. I've been going at it for almost two hours, and I've only just got to the 'D's. It's awful. I think I'm going to take a break in about a half hour so that I can do the homework I have to do by midnight. Sigh. Don't you love life?

Can you sing with all the voices of the mountains? Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?

Yay, Pocahontas! We've been listening to a lot of the old school (you know, good) Disney songs lately. I'd forgotten how great they are. Oh, and we watched Mulan. I know, right? Wicked Epic. I love life, sometimes.

This semester, though, is gonna be wicked hectic. It's going to be full of sleep deprivation and too many classes. And a bunch of them I don't even want to take (*cough* Core. *cough* Journalism). But I'd rather concentrate on the positives, you know? And I am pretty stoked about Intermediate Creative Writing. So, at least I have one class I can love, even though it's at night.

Oh, and we have snow, finally. Lots of snow. The kind that makes you want to run outside and jump in, only to find out that most of it is too frozen and kinda hurts. So, it's technically not the best kind (most of it's a bit old), but it's beautiful anyway, especially after the extra couple inches we got today. I'm not sure whether I like the slush, though. I mean, it definitely makes life an adventure. Every step you take, you never know if you're going to fall or not. It's even more exciting when you cross the street. Then, every step is life or death, which, when you think about it, is pretty bad ass. On the other hand, getting wet isn't cool.

Oh, and for Megan:

She decided to Defy Gravity and be On Her Own. She told her boyfriend that You Can't Always Get What You Want and It's My Life. She said, Keep Holding On, but we aren't what we once were. It's time to Take Chances and make some changes.

Her boyfriend protested. He said, but My Life Would Suck Without You. You Keep Me Hangin' On!

Don't Stop Believin'! Meg said.

But, he said, we had an Endless Love! Don't Hate On Me! Don't Rain On My Parade! Don't make me Dance With Myself! I'm Crazy In Love! You're so Bootylicious!

Push it, Meg said.

But, I'll always Stand By You!

No, she said, Don't Stand So Close to Me!

Yes, that's a summery of what happened using Glee songs. Yes, I'm lame. Peace.

Turkeys from Massachusetts are Smaht

Except really not, because they tend to just stand in the middle of the road, even when there are cars in front of them, trying to move. Either that, or they get chased by cats and then get stuck in trees. Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures of that, though.