Thursday, February 28, 2013

Insomniatic Insignificance

Quick Thoughts before I start:
Sometimes I write the titles of a post after the fact if I feel there is no specific theme or if I really have no divine intervention as to what I will actually call it.  Now I'm going over and over in my head as to why the hell I made an alliteration.  For some reason, I compulsively think that that is a rookie thing to do.  "Oh, you used an alliteration, well that's just silly you stupid novice."  Kind of like wearing tortoise-framed glasses during a hipster craze; you will be accused of being a hipster or accused of aspiring to be one.  No matter what you do, you can't win.  ...I'm not changing the title now.

Recently I've found myself having a hard time getting to sleep.  Some of this may be due to the fact that House of Cards is like crack and I can't stop watching it, but it's basically because like most of the human population, sometimes I just can't get to sleep.

I try and do the whole bed check-list to make sure that I'm in optimal comfort for sleeping: Are the covers just right for what I need? Yes.  Is my pillow folded the right way so that I don't start feeling my own heartbeat in my ear? Yes.  Are my contacts out? *touches eyeball* ...no...ow.

Yet sleep eludes me more than the ability to not burn just one pancake (Teach me your secrets Barefoot Contessa)!
Here's a picture of a ferret in a beret
because I thought it added diversity.

So I sit in the dark staring at the ceiling that I can't see and my mind starts to wander.  I already know that I have an overactive imagination, but I'm convinced at this point in everyone's life is when they become slightly neurotic.  Something about trying to will your mind into submission only makes it angrier, like holding down a very angry ferret that's out for blood.

Oh no...what if I never get to sky dive before I die?  Wait, do I even want to sky dive?  You know, that's probably how I'm going to go, skydiving.  Broken chute, flat Ryan.  On my grave they'll put "Finally, the perfect pancake."  

I guess it is better than dying from auto-erotic asphyxiation though, that would just be embarrassing.

Sometimes I wonder if it is better than college though.  You know what I should do?  Drop out and become a vagabond!  There it is, life experience out the wazoo and completely free!  I bet that I would meet some interesting people--probably someone that has killed a man!  The type of person that just felt like it.  Bearded, hard, gruff; just like the road they travel on.  Although, roads aren't bearded.  But those lizards from Jurassic Park are.

 I'd much rather die from a freaky lizard with a gland problem than from a mugger though.  This far in my life, I probably should have been mugged so far, right?  I mean, I probably missed out on some whole life lesson because no one ever approached me demanding my wallet.  I worked downtown for 3 years without one incident, one!  Then again, all I really would have been able to give them would be a subway card and an outdated phone which they'd probably beat me to death with due to the fact they feel so bad for me.  "Better to be dead" They'd say, "than to have this piece of shit on you." as they walked away, my body growing colder than tomato in a flash freezer.  

Then here comes my final words.  I always wish them to be some thing dramatic and cool like," At least I still had the farm" or "He'll get his just rewards...you'll see!" as I raise my fist to the sky with indignation and I collapse into someone's arms as the rain falls down my cheeks.  More than likely, I'll say something stupid like, "Ow." or "Delete my browsing history..." at which point I'll just fall into a ditch and wet myself.  

Probably preferable to dying at home though. I sleep a lot when I'm not at school so they'll just assume I'm recharging.  By the time they realize I'm gone (after I attempted at putting one too many almonds in my mouth JUST TO SEE IF I COULD), the cat will have already gnawed my arm off like a Thanksgiving turkey.  A very bony Thanksgiving turkey, but a turkey nonetheless. 

The funeral, oh what will the funeral consist of?  If anyone follows my personal wishes, then there will be no viewing since I find those worse than a room full of clowns.  In fact, let's just make it a room full of food with a couple pictures of me.  You can play classical music in the background while people sob over my demise.  "But he should have known people can't fit that many almonds in their mouths!" they'd say as I sit in whatever afterlife I end up in as I bury my face into a cloud or cupcake or kitten or something out of shame.

And I'm sitting there as my clock blinks over and over, continually saying, "It's 3 in the morning, dummy.  Stop your thinking, you're not dead yet."

It's right, I'm not.  Note to self: just one almond at a time

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Concerts and Why I'm Hiding For A Week

I'm really sorry that if you approach me this week and touch me in any way, I'll seize up and die.  Actually no, you know what? I have no need to apologize to you internet, I have all rights not to be touched by all of you since I'm recovering from over-exposure to people.

This past weekend, I had the really joyous opportunity of attending the Ellie Goulding concert in the big SLC.  This was first concert I had been to in awhile and I was pretty excited to see one of the songs on my iPod actually sing in front of me.  Sing to me sweet iPod lady, sing.  Well, I kind of forgot about that whole thing about concerts where you have to attend with other people.  Other people all around you.  Standing up.  In a space that doesn't seem like it should hold that many people.  (Here's my favorite Ellie song if you don't know who she is.)

People, people, people.

Don't get me wrong; I am all for bobbing to the music, singing along, and getting into the groove of the whole affair, I just don't particularly enjoy the entire crowd around me.  I guess you could say that this enforces the old curmudgeon-y man aspect about me, but I can't hear you because I don't have my hearing aids in yet.

I guess I'll just explain the two large crowds that really irk me in crowd situations like this.

1. The Couple:
I always wondered how these people ended up at places like this in the middle of a very loud, very jumpy concert.  I see them bobbing slowly in front of me, but then they're doing the vertical spoon thing and waltzing in front of me.  In my head, I imagine that these two people only ended up here by accident. "I thought you said that the waltz class was here tonight at 9." she would say to him, perplexed at the amount of people in the room. "You know, I bet they moved it to Tuesday again! That Charlotte never tells me the right day!" As he slaps his knee with a smile in his face, "I'll tell you what babe, let's just stay here and practice since we're already here." "Oh, what a great idea!" she says as he wraps his arms around her mid-section and off they go.
"1, 2, 3, pose damnit!

This must have been the thought of the couple right in front of me seeing as how he was slowly dancing his butt into my crotch for a good 45 minutes. I'm not saying he did this intentionally, but every time I moved back to avoid his swaying, he would just back up along with me until we were touching again.  Some part of me wanted to wrap my arms around both of them and whisper in his ear,"I think I'll lead now..." as I hum along to the songs without breaking eye contact.  The other part of me wanted to tap him on the shoulder and ask him to stop molesting me with his butt.  The real life part of me just stood there and let it happen.

This isn't Dancing With The Stars, people and your literal "swaying to the beat of your own drum" crap really bums me out when I'm jumping and screaming behind you.

2. The Unnecessary Shover/Balls High
You know, I get it.  You wanna go out, have a good time, have no regrets, all that YOLO or whatever.  But look here son, please stop running into me on purpose.  Yes you, the kid behind me that just decided to shove some 14 year old into my back for fun.  Do you know who you're not making it fun for?  Everyone around you.  See those small fires in their eyes?  It's because of you.  Pushing someone half your size doesn't make you fun, it makes you an asshole.  I may be already touching you, but that doesn't mean we can't be civil about this.

Also, in the same vein of touching people, please stop it when you're really high.  You can keep saying how "into" the music you are, but when you consistently rub your head into my back, I know you're a little more than high on life.  Actually, I'd much prefer you just go be high a few feet away from me because other people might not mind as much, like the ones with really red eyes.  Thank you for moving eventually though and rubbing your head on my friend's back, I could tell it was much appreciated.

So in the end, I really did enjoy the concert leaving with some ringing ears and my voice a little bit more gone (yes, I sing really loud when the artist points the mic to the crowd. I WILL ENJOY MYSELF).  It was an added bonus that she sounded as good live as she did recorded.


Although, after about 10 unintentional butt touches on multiple strangers' parts, I made a run to the bar.

"I'll have a vodka rocks with lime, please."

"We don't have limes."

"Lemon?"

"We don't have any of those."

"...just the rocks, please."

Just give me some time.