This morning, I was abducted.

An interesting morning. Too bad none of the interesting events actually happened to me.

Stayed with my mother last night since she was home alone and under the weather. Woke up early and sank a kiss into my half-sleeping mama's melting cheek. Then I left. Got a bag of cheddar and sour cream potato chips at a gas station to provide tasty, albeit unhealthy morning sustenance. Sat in traffic sleepily. Sat in more traffic sleepily. Got to work to find all parking taken. With a disgruntled sigh, I circled the block a couple times until I found a parking spot that will probably eventuate in me getting a parking ticket. Then I went to work.

Apparently during all of this, my mother had fully waken up to see that I had left all my belongings (which I told her I'd pick up after work while she fluttered in semi-stupor). My poor mother, dishelved and confused, tromped around the small townhouse meekly calling out my name. She looked outside the lace-curtained window. She thought she saw my car outside (not mine, but my aunt's. Both taupe Toyotas, so it's easy to get confused). But there was no sign of me anywhere. She started to panic. She called my cousin and insisted that something horrible had happened. I had been kidnapped. Abducted. It was 7:51am in the morning and I was probably trapped in a Siberian death camp being tortured by saber-wielding sherpas.

My mom finally called me frantically, in a voice trembling with fear. "OHMYGOD YOU'RE ALIVE." An hour had passed since I had seen her, but imaginative histories of me wandering pants-less, teary-eyed, beaten and raped up and down Braddock Road had already taken their toll . "Please call Shannon and tell her you're alive. I called her. I was so worried."

I called my loving cousin and roommate. I laughed right into the earpiece, loud and incredulous. "Did you really think I'd been abducted? You really believed my mom?"

"I didn't know. Things happen. I thought maybe you went outside for a morning cigarette and never made it back."

"You don't sound like you were all that concerned."

"I was. If you were lying in a ditch somewhere, who'd pay the rent?"

the answer

After two failed attempts at trying to score the perfect breakfast pastry, I gave the local cafe one more shot yesterday morning. I scoured the display glass apprehensively until I landed on the word "čokoláda." No more but-I-thought-it-was-a-chocolate-croissant mistakes. "Latte....ah. and uh ro-lah-da choh-coh-lah-da, prosim?" butchering the language of the lady behind the counter. 35 crowns for the latte, 13 crowns for the pastry. For your information, that's about 2 dollars for the latte and 75 cents for the (finally!) delicious little "roloda čokoláda."

Third time's the charm, bitchdog.

A million things entered my mind this morning as i dashed madly through the front door and back about five times.

Contacts, 20 lb text book, ipod sitting primly in it's proper place on the speakers, cinnamon toast still in the toaster (ignored and forgotten in all of its burnt sugary glory), heels yanked forcefully over lotion-less skin, scarf wrapped around with skillful hands in an envious knot, kisses swiftly blown up the spiral staircase wishing a lazily over-sleeping body some sense of fulfillment during his lackluster day.

Eventually I realized it was too late - the bus had pleasantly tooted away.

I delicately pried my heels off the already swollen, cracking feet and lathered them up in honeysuckle lotion. With my head resting on my knees I could spot the discarded bits of notes and post-its that had rained upon the floor throughout the last few weeks and noticed a fortune I thought I had thrown away in haste.

That was the first time I smiled this morning. Many more were to follow.

My baby cousins are jerks.

My peaceful slumber was doth disturbed by two devious dwarves who usurped my comfortable bed last night. At 6:45 AM, an unruly mop top with a toothless grin stuck its head out of my bedroom doorway, wagged her tongue at me and slammed the door. I woke up with a grunt and stumbled to my bedroom. I tried to forcefully regain authority of my bed, but the devious dwarves squealed and kicked their six year-old vigorous limbs onto my back while asserting that I was "a big giant poo-poo head".

Irate, I told them to go bother Shannon instead. They leapt from my bed with glee. I settled into my pillows with a contended sigh as I heard the sound of my cousin groaning from her room followed by the churlish laughter of our charges.

Peace did not reign for long, as I was rudely awoken again at 8 AM. Shannon kicked open my door and with grim sleeplessness declared, "Get the fuck up. Right now. I can't deal with these kids on my own."

The morning got better, I guess. Pancake House cures any early-morning scorn.

When I woke up I had only 2 minutes of morning left.

muted sounds of a sobbing voice on the other end of a duct-taped monstrosity of a phone broke my fitful dreams at 1 am this morning. i rolled over under the deflated half-fluffed pillow trying to erase the sounds keeping me between waking sighs and oblivion. the persistent voice crying so helplessly over a goddamn boy to the body next to me sleepily consoling her wouldn't allow this to be so. eventually i ripped the covers off my sweat-drenched form and blindly stumbled out of the room, bruising my already tender legs as i walked into merciless corners stiffly decorating the smothering hallway. a chance meeting between myself occurred as i grasped hold of the gilded edges of a mirror to shoulder my sudden desire to fall - melt into the floor boards that beckoned to me so longingly. i saw myself - red rimmed eyes, pitiful tear streaks no longer worthy of that title for lack of moisture, lips so used to smiling a stranger on that desolate face...


and i cried.

This morning I woke up to the incessant ringing of our dorm room phone, followed by my roommate's Hebrew croaks. I shoved my earplugs further down my ear hole, and pulled my blanket over my head and let out a little groan. Her mom always calls at 9 in the morning. A decent hour, but not by my standards.

I finally woke up at 11, and realized I went to bed with my contacts on. I wore glasses today to amend my mistake. I need wax earplugs.

Had a egg and cheese bagel sandwich from across the street. The nice Korean lady at the deli winked at me and said "Early today." Don't normally do breakfast, but this morning the beast of hunger awoke in my belly and roused into full fire. Sandwich was delicious. Eggs over-easy and a nice slice of ultra-processed-orange Velveeta cheese exist as one of the most simplistic, but highly pleasing marriages ever. Like John and Paul. Ringo and Octopuses Gardens.

Now my head is bobbing and I can feel my eyelids flutter closed like heavy-lidded drops of honey. I could really use a nap.

one of the first days i've rolled out of bed before my waltzing alarm in a while. i hear more within those stolen few minutes than i do when the screeching begins and mother snatches the sheets off the broken slumber the house has finally nestled into.

the remainders of sweet waking dreams and hushed voices play like a broken record in my head. one of those worthless broken records you'll never turn off because you're enslaved by the vibrations it induces and are forever hearing new notes you were too deaf to catch before.

i turn over in sleepy surprise as i feel the cat sneaking over my pillow to rest happily on my head. we snuggle for a while until the alarm attempts to startle us into routine submission. i choose to ignore it. that is until the smells of cinnamon swirls stuff my feet unwillingly into their pink slippers and open my protesting eyes to a wonderful sight of golden toast and honey dripping teas.


maybe i'll resist harder tomorrow.

"i think i'll go home and mull this over before i cram it down my throat"

i changed the song on my alarm. refreshing.

this morning i feel the effects of good conversations the night before. good, honest talks with unassuming-types.

i'm going to carry around my leather bound italian notebook instead of the black and white compostion. my thoughts are recorded with more care and effort in the italian book, i find. it's a nicer book.

the last of the catcher in the rye over the last of the raisin bran. unfocused reading, unfocused eating. classical music coming from the boombox that no one ever turns off.

the sky is blue. it's going to be a good day.

Breakfast of the Epicurean.

It's still icy outside. Windy too. Again, I lingered at home longer than necessary because I didn't want to deal with the biting chill. I finally dragged my ass out to my car, but I was still late to work anyway due to a stop-over at 7-11. Cigarettes, Vitamin Water and a buffalo chicken taquito for breakfast. Mighty breakfast of the epicurean? I THINK SO.

Trying to exit the 7-11 parking lot, I accidentally blocked off two lanes of traffic while fisting a cigarette in one hand and my taquito in the other. Parents dropping off their kids at Bishop Ireton right up the road honked their horns and screamed things that seemed rather uncouth. At least for Catholics.

Today is slow and steady and not so bad due to the space heater I stole from Michael hidden under my desk. I spend most mornings dreaming of food and writing instead of working.

Indecisive 10 am

i will pretend that i had a guest for breakfast and that this is why there are two pastries on the plate. but it was just me and i only ate half.

This morning, I woke up ten minutes later than usual. Curling deeper into my well of blankets, I relished those extra scant minutes to half-consciously dream of a happy land full of nothing but sun-lit pillow trees and an earth made of mattresses. Then I woke up and looked outside. The sky was a nauseating gray and the parking lot outside my apartment building had that nice, deathly ice-sheen. Fantastic. Thought briefly of calling out sick from work and missed the good ol' days of school where leaves of absences were frequent and guilt-free. Puttered around and checked the weather, but it wasn't as horrible as I wanted it to be. Raining and cold enough to be a big fat thorn in my side, but not life-threatening enough to be a legitimate excuse for coming in late. Miss when snow days meant something. Miss when you woke up to a world full of icicles and frosted trees and felt like you were stuck in a snowglobe; it was nothing but soap flakes and wonder which you watched from the comfort and warmth of your own home.

Ha. Then I found out snow days as an adult meant late mornings spent trying to desperately scrape the ice off your windshield with your fingernails while the asshole next to you smugly employed his ice scraper.

Anyway. Rest of morning. I was late for work because I spent most of my morning fantasizing about ways to avoid work. I also lollygagged by contemplating making breakfasts I did not eat (although I made a BOMB breakfast burrito yesterday that I find it imperative to mention -- cheese omelet on a fresh corn tortilla -- it's fresh corn tortillas or bust, baby) and complaining to my cousin, who announced as she stared at gossip blogs at 7:30 in the morning that she had 22 vacation days and she intended to use them. Jelus. Told her to go to hell and went to work.

Okay. So the roads weren't that bad.

This morning I woke up to my new roommate around 8:30. Apparently she's an early riser. I want to be one too, but one who's not exhausted, so I willed myself back to sleep until 9:40. I was excited that I didn't sleep past 10. I hobbled to the shower with my eyes still crusted shut to expedite my morning, but I ended up on the computer until almost noon anyway. I fantasized about finding a sweet, little cafe in the neighborhood, but hunger couldn't pry me away from the rare chance to talk to the person I love thousands of miles away.

"[sipping noise] So there was this woman. And she was, uh, on an airplane flying to meet her fiance..."

The song on my alarm needs to change.

It's icy outside.

The single window in my room tells me the back yard is frozen over. Trees branches looks frail and brittle.

My laptop tells me school's delayed 2 hours. that means no class today.

The dose of adrenaline in my blood right now from the new school closing news is keeping me awake. But it will subside. and I'll get tired again. I'm not budging. see you in a few hours.

This morning I woke up at 7. Dana was moving in at 7:30. I quickly moved the beds over and accidentally gave myself the one with bad feng shui. I thought I won with better electrical sockets but she brought a power strip for European sockets. I lose.
My last morning alone. This time I didn't tease my hair. I may stop caring soon.

10:01 am, not today, or that day either

Today's 10:01 was a series of discoveries, discoveries that in a wild fall of abandon I had done many things I hadn't expected. I had stung both hands, but knew that, I had bruised both legs and broken a shoelace and landed on communication. And it was in two pieces, and still ringing.

Like flying, but much faster.

this morning I woke up at 8 instead of 9. I quickly got dressed and put on my new brown sunglasses and walked out of the apartment. I walked downtown and went to Migros to buy a danish. I picked at the danish and walked slowly back. I listened to Sufjan and was glad it was thursday, fridays don't even matter anymore. My internet wasn't working so I sat back in bed and read 9 Stories by Salinger.