Can't sleep. It's 2.00 in the morning, so I'm being productive. Finished a paper due for tomorrow, memorized the lines, wrote some pages in a short story I've been working on, and of course, participated in my favorite late-night activity of late...downloading country music. Currently listening to "Katy wants a fast one" by Garth Brooks, I think. I relate to Katy. Most popular music is too slow nowadays, at least beatwise. Granted, our newly iconicized rappers have got fast words, but their beats are mellow, get drunk and get dancing beats, which is great, but I'm looking for something to dance to in the car...sober. Also, is it just me, or does Trace Adkins have the sexiest voice ever!!! So hot. You know who else is hot...let's just make a list, shall we? (in no particular order)
Trace Adkins, even though I don't know what he looks like.
Prince William
Orlando Bloom
Johnny Depp
Harrison Ford...I know he's old, but damn
George Clooney...another classic, but the Batman suit, c'mon
David Schwimmer
That red-haired boy on American Idol
Hmm...well, of course, all my sexy fraternity boys!
This random boy in my acting class...scruffy cheeks, pouty lips, blue eyes, muscles...standard pretty boy
Elijah Wood
Mmm...that's all I can handle thinking of right now. Imagination could run away. Why, why, you fickle gods of sleep, why do you deny me? I was a faithful servant today, I slept through my alarm clock just to appease you. Why must you torture me? I'm sorry, I don't mean to be angry, but a lil bit of drowsy isn't too much to ask, I think. The thing that I like about country music is that it isn't sexual, it's either fun or depressing. Nowhere in between. I defy you to find me a country song that cannot fall into either of those categories. The rest of popular music seems to rely only on sex, which is sad to me. Why are we so hung up on it? The elusive moment of happiness, I suppose, for which everyone is searching. I have a clue for y'all...you won't find that happiness in another person. Spend some time being reflective, see what comes to you. Find those muses you cursed away in high school, spend some time at the computer or in a notebook with them. Those lil spirits know more about you than anyone, because they are part of you, created by you. Ask them, nicely, and they'll tell you things. I'm crazy, in case you didn't notice. I talk to my muses like real people...I've identified three of them, but the fickle creatures won't tell me their names. Probably something I can't pronounce. I need a job for the summer, and I think I'm gonna apply at Cedar Point, because, hey, why not! It'll be fun, away from home, money earning, around kids my age. Just like college, only it's outside and I get paid. And of course, it's in Ohio. Ick. Not a big fan of my neighboring state to the east. Maybe I'm just jealous cuz we can't beat 'em in football. Dominators, they are. Here comes the Yoda speech, I know that I'm tired, but I'm being driven on by something, someone, writing to purge something, and I've got to keep writing until it comes out. I want to marry a cowboy. Goodness. Maybe not a cowboy, exactly...no, yeah, I want a cowboy, with boots and a hat and muscles and a pick up truck. And a horse. He'll say yes ma'am and no ma'am and be polite. And we can go riding in his pick up and listen to country music. Fun stuff. My poetry is suffering of late, as in it doesn't exist. I hope I get into my poetry class next semester. It could potentially ruin my life if I don't. Seriously. Because if I can't get into the class, then I can't do my concentration in creative writing and if I can't do that, then I can't get my MFA and if I don't do that, I can't be a respectable poet and professor, which I'd love to be someday. Slow down, relax, ease up. I'm good i'm good i'm good, she repeats, controlling her breathing. Speaking of, I got trapped in an elevator the other day. Now, I'm deadly afraid of elevators to start out with, right. The first time I went up in the Sears Tower, I had a panic attack...crying, sobbing, not being able to breathe, tingly extremities...kinda serious. So I'm in this elevator by myself and of course all I'm thinking about is "ohgodwhatiftheelevatorstopsandi'mstuckinsideandicannevergetoutandidieinherealone" over and over and over again. So when the elevator does actually stop, I've already worked myself into a panic, right, sweaty palms, dry mouth, and then when it quits going, my breathing got all shallow and my temp shot up to like 1,000 degrees. Stuck between the fourth and fifth floors. I don't want to freak out and hit all the buttons, right, so I just test them out. Basement...nothing happens. Four...nothing happens. Door open, door close, basement again...still nothing. Been in the elevator for like 5 minutes now, tears are starting. Desperation has me hit the six button, the floor I was coming from, and miracle, it goes back up to the floor, where I leap out of the elevator, startling the german-speaking secretary and racing down the 9,000 stairs on rubbery legs. The most not fun I've had in a while. Well, sleep gods are starting to look favorably on me, so off I go to dream of things not yet seen in this world. G'night all.