Saturday, September 17, 2011
Here I am, just laying in my bed. I am at a lack of tiredness as of the moment. And I need to work in about 6 hours. I couldn't sleep earlier so I called Cam and we skyped for a little and I either fell asleep on him (which was pretty much my whole intention...sort of) or the battery on my computer died. So I had been sleeping for about and hour when I hear people stomping into the house...of course all of this had been all jumbled up into my dream so I brushed it off until I heard a loud boom and a blood-curdling scream. Bam. At that moment I shot up and was like "What the heck is going on?!" I hear lots more stomping and yelling and slurred yelling and try to decipher what just happened and whether it needed my attention or an ambulance's. This continued for about 5 minutes and none of the noise died down. I figured everyone had gone out and got drunk and now they were all yelling at each other, so I decided to (very reluctantly) get out of bed and tell them to shut the eff up. I get out of bed and Tracey is frantically walking around and I'm not quite sure what happened next but I know I angrily told her about a scream that woke me up and she said that something had fallen on her foot. Okay, so next I go into the kitchen and try to tell everyone to quiet down a bit (at this point I did not know the extent of everybody's drunkenness) and Tracey's friend Jake is like "Oh, sorry, Kristina!" and hugs me and Stephanie is like "Have you had some cake?!" and Mikey's dad is like, "Christina! Take me away! Take me away!" and Mikey is like, "Yeah this is totally his first beer..." Tracey comes up to me explaining that everyone is drunk out of their minds and that she's handling it and that I should go back to bed. I don't know if any of you know this, but it is IMPOSSIBLE to get away from a drunk person who wants to talk to you. And I was surrounded by 4 of them. Tracey was trying her hardest to take care of them, and if I didn't have to get some sleep I totally would have helped her. A back massage, 2 other serenades, and a yeah-me-and-the-fork-go-way-back later, I finally got away. I've tried twice to call Cam to no avail, so I'm here writing this blog post. About halfway through writing it sounded as if Tracey got everyone to bed, but I'm not tired. I'm going to try to go to bed now. I really need to get some sleep. I haven't gotten much in the last week and the next week isn't going to be much better...
Monday, September 12, 2011
I am taking time right now out of my ever-busy schedule to write this post. I am tired. I am exhausted. I am weary. I am fatigued. I am this excerpt from the dictionary on my computer: Tired is what you are after you've cleaned the house, spent two hours reading a dull report, or trained for a marathon; it means that you are drained of your strength and energy, without giving any indication of degree. Weary, on the other hand, is how you feel after you've had to interrupt your dinner five or six times to answer the phone. It implies not only a depletion of energy but also the vexation that accompanies having to put up with something that is, or has become, disagreeable. Exhausted means that you are totally drained of strength and energy, a condition that may even be irreversible (: exhausted by battling a terminal disease). Fatigued is a more precise word than either tired or weary; it implies a loss of energy through strain, illness, or overwork to the point where rest or sleep is essential (: fatigued after working a 24-hour shift). Tuckered is an informal word that comes close in meaning to fatigued or exhausted, but often carries the suggestion of loss of breath (: tuckered out after running up six flights of stairs). I need to be working on my peanuts right now, but I just don't have anything in me to do it. I've pooped about three times today which I'm pretty sure isn't good. I've been looking for information for my speech because my outline is due on Wednesday. I have so much to do. I've done quite a few things today off of my to-do list. I called Pay-less back asking about my application/interview. She said she hadn't looked at it yet and that she would call me back in 15 minutes. Well, that was almost 3 hours ago. I had to go to a computer lab to save my designs on Franklin. Tracey went with me and we walked into a lab that said "OPEN" and when we got out it said "CLASS IN SESSION" so we have no idea what was going on. I finished my math homework fairly quickly. It was only 7 questions and they were all about time and area. Super easy stuff that I got right on the first try. I was very proud of myself. Tracey just came into my room and told me that I look like death. Yeah...I feel like death. Is it bad that this is only a 100th of how I felt at Huntington? I was literally a zombie. Or really more like a robot. A zombie-robot? I went through the motions and I was dead inside. I felt nothing. I remember nothing. And I honestly don't want to. Now I want to make about post about zombie-robots. Actually I don't. But I need to get going. My peanuts are still unfinished.
Friday, September 9, 2011
So for my drawing class this week, we've been drawing peanuts. I hate peanuts. I can't draw peanuts. The only way my peanuts look normal is if you are halfway across the room and squinting. My hands get covered in charcoal and it sucks. Grandpa is watching a movie about the KKK. They're killing the guy right now in a gas chamber (and by "the guy" I mean the guy who was in the KKK and was on death row). It's over now. Anyway, I'm just writing a post so you all know I'm still alive. The post before the last one was pretty emo...complete with poetic suicide. I must say that I'm throughly embarrassed by it, but I'm not going to take it off. I hide and cower from people all the time, so why hide things with my blog? I actually think I'm going to go. Hope you all enjoyed the last blog! :)