I am not a very good gypsy
I learned something new about myself: I always wanted to be the sorta person who could just carry their home with them (in my car, for instance—all that crap) and plop down wherever and sleep, like some urban nomad, but I realize I’m just not that way. I want to be that way, but I’m learning you can’t make yourself be a particular way just ‘cos you like how it sounds on paper.
Girlie's going-away party was last night at Theorylabs, and I danced and talked and goofed off with everyone until suddenly it was five a.m. Holy shit. I was too tired, I figured, to drive very far. I tried to crash at Doc’s loft on the couch there, ‘cause it was dark as fuck and I knew if I arrived home at that hour my folks would flip out (“We don’t want you driving at that hour! and why were you up so late!?”) and they were all still awake and the music was loud and people were talking and smoking like chimneys over at the Labs so no sleep could be had there. So I left and went to Doc’s and even though I was tired in theory (har har), I just couldn’t sleep for the life of me. I’d fully planned on sleeping so I’d even taken a trazodone and a benadryl cos he has a cat, and still not a wink of sleep.
And the cat, Wednesday, kept meowing loudly at me. I think she wanted her dad, but he was still over at Theory talking to the scads of pretty girls. And I tossed and turned but still stayed completely fucking awake. I realized I like my own bed (not just my own bed, but a bed as opposed to a couch, also), or maybe I just like things to be a very specific, bed-like way. I like warm sheets and blankets, feeling cozy but not too hot, that soft satin-y stuff on the edges of fuzzy warm blankets, and a pillow that’s flattened to pancake-thinness angled just the right way so my neck isn’t craned in a completely unnatural direction. (Why is it people think it’s okay to sleep with your neck at an angle it would NEVER be in if you were standing? What the fuck is up with that?) So I was really un-thrilled for a while there, and just laid around awkwardly on the couch in the pitch black for an hour or so. The trazadone and benadryl never kicked in, I was wide awake and hungry and had to pee and finally I just left around 5:45 or so. I think next time I’ll just come straight home regardless of the time, unless I can be sure I have an environment that fits my specs.
On the way home I stopped and got three donuts at Krispy Kreme. I’ve had their donuts before but never warm right outta the cooker (I say that instead of “fryer” ‘cause it makes me feel better). Holy shit. It was like biting into really good, warm, sugary melting gooey cozy sex.
Weird how wanting to be one way, or envying the personality of those who are that way—-people like Normal and Sylkia who can just travel wherever, footloose and fancy-free, and crash on a couch and live life like a gypsy—-doesn’t make you that way.
On the other hand, I guess I could be that gypsy-spirited person if I want to, regardless of the fact that I don’t have that particular ability to sleep wherever I plunk my ass down.
It’s also weird how there are so many little things I don’t know about myself. All it took was for me to turn my attention to them for them to suddenly begin rising like fingerprints from the dust—they were always there, a clear print of me, but I never looked for them. Even little stuff like that.
Maybe it’ll all add up to build the bigger stuff I can’t even begin to understand yet.