My Mumbling Thoughts

I dropped toothpaste on my towel this morning after I woke up. I took it as a sign to go back to sleep.

It has been one of those days. One of those, please-lord-let-me-go-back-to-sleep-because-I'm-in-desperate-need-to-fix-whatever-is-wrong-with-my-body kind of days. I haven't been so tired in so long.

Come to find out it is my nasty sinuses that decided to attack me. I've got it all too. The cough, the sniffling, sneezing, watering eyes, and I'm just a one woman mucus machine. It's not at all a pretty sight, but I came into work anyway. I never knew it would be such a challenge to just keep my eyelids open. Whenever I do shut them, they get even heavier and I'm ready to just fall over. Blinking is enough of a tease for me to go to sleep.

I did take something for all of this though. I try to avoid taking pills if I can help it. For a very brief moment in my short life, I was sort of/kind of addicted to prescription pills. If you've ever had a percocet or soma then you know what I'm talking about and why they're so lovely to be addicted to. Now though, I'm too scared to even take a simple aspirin. I may bitch and complain about being in pain or having a sore ache, but I won't take anything. This time, it just got to the point though that every time I coughed, I would get this major pressure pain in my forehead. I couldn't stand it.

I found some Tylenol Sinus. It's maximum strength, and the non-drowsy kind, although I think they're lying about the "non-drowsy" part. I can't stop yawning and everything seems to be in italics. Not fun, people. It does seem to be doing its job and keeping me from coughing my brains out, so I can put up with a little bit of sleepiness.

I never have been a big fan of elevators. If I ruled the world and it were up to me, we'd only have escalators. No one has any awkward moments on escalators. At least I never have. Want to enjoy the ride? Stand on the right. In a hurry to get where you're going? Run up on the left. In elevators, you're just bound to run into some kind of awkwardness. Are you in the elevator with someone who likes to make small talk or someone who wants you to mind your business? Who gets off first? You or them? Of course if it's a guy they normally let the ladies go first, but what if it's two women? What exactly are the rules and elevator etiquette? This is the kind of stuff I would have liked to learn in high school.

This morning I was riding up from the first floor to the third floor with this very strange man who likes to loiter around downstairs when he's bored. He has a greasy comb over and never knows when to stop talking.

Strange Man: "Wow. I never realized you were so short."

Me: "Yep."

Strange Man: "I mean, every time I come downstairs you're always behind your desk sitting, so I can't see your legs."

Me thinking: "Fuck, get me out of here."

The doors open and I hurry off of the elevator.

No updates on The Man as of yet. I haven't heard from SuperAdmin or my supervisor, but I'm dying to know. He hasn't asked me to do anything for him ever since Thursday though, so I'm thinking he finally got the message. There hasn't been any kind of communication between him and me for THREE whole days. I'm really happy about that since he couldn't ever walk by my desk without asking me to do some random job. I'm taking this all as a very good sign.

It's only Tuesday. I want to go home and tan.

Posted by Sam at 01:43 PM | Permalink

This is so gross. I don't know where this cold came from, but in the past twenty-four hours I've picked up some kind of virus that is producing so much phlegm it's more than unbearable. I've been trying to hold my eyes open and do my work that I've got staring at me, but all I can seem to successfully do is yawn and cough. My eyes water and my head hurts. It's probably just my sinuses.

I don't know about the rest of the world, but I am so over summer. I'm ready for the heat to go away, the giant bugs to quit crawling in my bathroom, and the sinus headaches that prevent me from focusing. Fall is more my season. I enjoy the leaves changing colors and being able to have all of those thick layers of clothing. Really great time of year for fashion. The sun just shines differently too and life is much more pleasant for me.

It would be so nice to just curl up underneath my desk and pretend that nobody was here. Take a small cat nap right now and re-energize the body. I wish I drank coffee, because then I'd just grab a really nice cup and have the caffeine jolt me awake. I was planning on staying late today, but I highly doubt that will be happening. This Monday has turned out to be a drag. It's my entire fault too, since I decided to be a dork and get up at 4:30 in the morning. Yes, you may point and call me a psycho. I was just thinking the same thing.

Posted by Sam at 01:42 PM | Permalink

My goodness, I am so, so, so very happy that today is Friday and I'm not working tomorrow. This has been the longest freaking week of my life! I worked eight hours on Sunday (because I'm a freak, but also because we get paid double time), and overtime this week also.

Needless to say I'm a little tired.

I don't know why I don't just take myself upstairs and fall asleep, but for some reason I just don't feel like it. I feel like sitting here and typing up lots of randomness in my head that has been floating around and mulling away while I've been driving to and from work. Of course I have a crap memory, so I can't remember any of it at the moment, so I'll just type out what I'm thinking now.

Which is that I need a vacation. A real honest to goodness vacation. My friend and I went to London this past New Years and called it a "vacation." Oh, how wrong we were. It was a mind blowing, life altering experience. There was no relaxation whatsoever. We walked, we tubed, we saw/heard/smelled and experienced it all. My GOD was it a fucking good time. The best ten days of my life. Now I'm battling the entire universe to get back where I want to be so badly.

I can't really explain it either, which sucks, because I like telling people about it, but I don't want to come off like I'm bragging. So instead I down play it all and act all modest that I (at nineteen years old) and my best friend (who was seventeen at the time), got onto an airplane, flew 4,000 miles, over an ocean, far away from home, outside of our country, and stayed with my boyfriend in his flat.

Sounds crazy, right?

What was even better was that everything went according to plan. It was blissful the whole entire time. Nothing went wrong, which never ever happens. I was expecting something bad to happen. We would lose our luggage, someone would get food poisoning, get mugged, and have all of our important information stolen. But none of it happened. It was perfect. We went everywhere we wanted to go, the weather was nice, we got along great with his friends, there wasn't any complaining about feet hurting because we were walking so much, the food was good (shout out to Nando's), and nothing was stolen...at least nothing that I know of. And of course, most importantly to me, aside from the great city itself, is that I got to spend priceless time with Ash, my fantastic boyfriend.

There's just so many little details and a million memories that we all have created within such a short amount of time, that it doesn't seem realistic at all. It can't be. Sometimes I just sit back and think, "That really didn't happen."

Leaving was hell to put it mildly.

What I also can't believe is the fact that it's over halfway through July, and I'm still not there yet. I remember when we first got back, I was ready to pack up the rest of my things, get back on an airplane and live with Ash for the rest of my life. I would be happy as a clam. However, I doubt that everyone I know in America (my mom especially) would have been just as happy as me. I'm doing it the more..."responsible" way.

I have managed to get into a college over there, so snaps for me. Unfortunately, I'm poor and can't afford to go this year, so I had to defer it until 2006. I've got a bit of a bad shopping habit and it takes control of my life whenever things don't go my way. I need some sort of instant gratification, otherwise I freak out and have major break downs. It's not a pretty sight at all, so I'd much rather buy a new pocketbook or some shoes that I can create an entire outfit around.

It's just hard. Real hard. And I'm really impatient. I've got these constant questions swirling around in my brain like, "what can I do to make this whole process go any faster," or "why do I have to do all of this crap anyway?" I'm a simple girl (not really, but I like to think I am). I just want to wake up every morning in London, with my man by my side and hear the traffic outside the window. Is that so much to ask? I can't just live and be happy in another country?

From all of my research that I've done since we've been back, I learned that it does not work that way.

Unless we get married. Momma would love that, I'm sure.

Posted by Sam at 01:40 PM | Permalink

I remember when I was working at Jersey Mike's, and my best friend at the time asked me to come outside with her to smoke. She lit up a Marlboro Light and began puffing away as though she was born with a fag in her mouth. I was intrigued. I wanted to try. What made them so fabulous that everyone I knew was smoking? Not once did she ever ask me if I wanted one. No peer pressure whatsoever. There was nothing "after school special" about this situation. I simply asked if I could take a hit and see what the huge fuss was all about. So she passed her fag over to me, I took it into my small fingers and inhaled.

I started coughing and choking like I had swallowed gasoline. I looked over to her, and in a strained voice with watering eyes, sputtered out, "smooth."

I was a regular smoker from that point on, and have also been trying to quit ever since that day. It's been more then an uphill battle for me. Constantly thinking about the health side effects and fluctuating from a pack a day, to half a pack a day, to two packs when I drink...it's a nightmare. I've given up how many times I've tried to seriously quit. Recently though, was my best go. I quit for over two months and thought that maybe this time I had won. I had done the necessary research in order to beat them this time around. There were methods that I was using regularly, and I even believed this time that I was going to make it. Then I could walk in to a restaurant and ask for the non-smoking section. I would quit smelling like an ash tray, and I wouldn't feel like I really need them in order to make things better. Which is what I've always hated about them. Needing them.

I started back up roughly about a week ago. I don't know why. It was probably some stupid reason that I used in order to buy them and feel the smoke filter down into my lungs. It was quite a relief actually. I felt so good, but then extremely guilty straight afterwards.

The thing is, sometimes it's the only thing that I can think of that'll make me feel a little better. Wow, that sounds so sad. They're just so immediate and available that it's a comfort to know that I can always go back to them. I feel sad? Smoke a fag. I'm really happy? Smoke a fag. Feeling confused? Smoke a fag. Raining outside? Smoke a fag. Just ate a meal? Smoke a fag. Driving to or from work? Smoke a fag. Driving anywhere? Smoke a fag. Listening to music? Smoke a fag.

You see the trend.

I'm taking this relapse as a one off though. At least that's what I'm saying right now. I'm going to keep going strong and not smoke anymore, for any reasons. Hopefully. Too bad its so mind controlling and all I can keep thinking is, "Well, what if I were just a part time smoker? Or a light smoker?" As if there are such things.

I suppose it wouldn't be as bad if I didn't lie about it all the time. I lie to family and friends about how long I've been smoking, why I do it, when I quit, when I don't quit. It's even worse than the bad habit itself. All I see though when I do light up is disappointment or whenever I talk about it, the sadness that comes out of their voice. They don't like that I do, and I can't blame them. So I'd much rather just avoid it all together and pretend that I don't smoke anymore, other than feel the shame that I get from them. It's all just terrible.

Huh. I sure could go for a fag right about now.

Posted by Sam at 01:38 PM | Permalink

I don't know why this is such a huge deal for me. It's only a blog, right? Only an online journal where only I'm going to be reading all of the boring things that I do during the day. And of course all of the rambling nonsense that I'm constantly thinking about. So why am I so nervous? I shouldn't be. Although, I don't really know what exactly to do, or what to say, or where to begin. I, of all people should know. All I do during the day is read other people's blogs, so I know what all goes on. I suppose this could be an introduction entry...so I guess I'll just start then.

At the moment, I'm at work, pretending to be doing something extremely important. I am a receptionist for a business that can afford to have me sit around with nothing to do. It's not a glamorous position at all, and if you must know, I only did it for my mother and because I thought that the chances of them helping me move over to London increased enormously. Why to London? Of all the places in the world to live and experience, I chose London? Well, aside from the history of the place, the fact that it's an amazing city, and there's so much I could learn, my boyfriend lives there. Ah, yes.

Anyway, I remain on the third floor where I do random jobs that anyone with two neurons could accomplish. Turns out that they can't help me move over to London. Or, they can, it'll just take far too long. Now I'm looking for alternative ways to fly away...again. Until then though, I remain behind my computer screen, trying always to constantly deal and live my life in Virginia.

And with that, my blog is born.

Posted by Sam at 01:37 PM | Permalink