Guys, I have to tell you all about one of the most exhausting and frightening weeks of my entire life TO DATE. I don't know how, and I don't know why... but last week I was missing out on catching crucial Z's via being caught in Insomnia's DEATHGRIP. It was a really trying time for me, as I enjoy the little things in life such as sleeping whenever I feel like it, laying in bed all day, and generally being the Mayor of Memory Foam Town.
It's no secret that life is always spitting on me, but this time it got me where it really hurt. Gone were the nights full of dreams that paled in comparison to my real life. Gone was the continued use of an obsolete alarm clock. Gone was any semblance of being a normal American girl. Sit back while I spin a terrifying tale about being the Only One Awake.
I have had sleeping problems for quite some time now, but it was usually only in the fall right around Daylight Savings Time. My sleeping woes were quickly solved when the time "fell back", so I never thought too much of it. I joked about it all the time and announced myself as the founder of the Never Sleep Club. Then things took a turn for the WORSE.
the scene of the crime
It started out innocently enough. I'd started staying up a little later than usual. An hour here, two hours there. I was fine with it, as that's what is expected of an Artist such as myself. I got to draw and write more. I was being productive! It kinda legitimized my hedonistic lifestyle. Like, of course I'm awake while everyone else is asleep. I'm an Artist, a non-conformist, a bon vivant. All I do is drink coffee, paint, and pay no mind to the constraints of TIME, maaaaan.
I loved it! My book was coming together, my walls were filling with new pieces, and my sketchbooks were filled to the gills. But my happiness was not to be. Suddenly, I stopped getting sleepy altogether. What was once a liberating experience quickly trapped me in it's disorienting web of despair!
i wanted to sleep *this* much
Before I knew it, the days were flying by and I was in a lucid state. Night and day became one and the same. I didn't know what was real anymore! I wondered if I'd ever sleep again. My usual breathtaking appearance was still breathtaking-- except this time I was making people scream in terror. Just like Kevin McAllister when he found his brother's girlfriend's picture--I was eliciting a very "Buzz, your girlfriend...woof!" reaction. I started to look like an overzealous extra in Michael Jackson's thriller video. Like, way to stay in character, you know?
I vowed that if I ever ran into Mr. Sandman, I'd punch him in the fucking face. Talk about slacking off on the job! I didn't know who to turn to, as it seemed like the entire planet was ASLEEP. I soon found myself pale and alone, surrounded by Nutri Grain wrappers, with only the harsh light emanating from television infomercials to keep me company. I was starting to feel left out. It was like that episode of the Simpsons where they start a No Homer's Club... and I was the world's Homer. I was at my wit's end!
Just as I was about to break down, salvation arrived. All of a sudden, I became super sleepy. Like, my sleepiness was trapped at the airport in Paris and had experienced some flight delays on it's way back to LAX, but it had finally made it home. It burst through my bedroom doors, threw it's LV luggage aside, and breathlessly explained everything. Now it seems like it is trying to overcompensate, so I find myself fighting sleep whenever it strikes at a bad time, ie in the middle of the afternoon when I'm picking up my new shoes at the mall. So there it is, guys. Easy as that. When I grew weary of looking, I was found. It was a wild ride, but I made it!
Sweet Dreams!
I have really done it this time. Like I mentioned in the previous entry, I vowed to "stay grounded" but sorta like Pringles- once you pop, you can't stop. For the record, I don't even "pop" nasty ass Pringles to begin with, but that's the only analogy I could think of. After "crunching some numbers", I went ahead and booked some flights. Yes, plural. I should just go ahead and "let the cat out of the bag"-- I AM CARMEN SAN DIEGO. Did you seriously think I was a commonplace brunette that happened to look great in red and loved to travel?
I can't help but feel a little embarrassed when I tell my buddies where I'm headed next. I'm sure a lot of it has to do with the fact that I technically don't have a job (but that's another post entirely). Like, for some reason people think I am Prince Ali, FABULOUS HE, Ali Ababwa when in reality, I'm totally a Pre-Genie Aladdin with nothing but a cute purple vest and a killer smile to my name. I am a street rat, now and forever. Regardless of my tax bracket, I've kind of got this traveling thing down to a science. No need to be that person who doesn't "know the ropes". I am here to share 5 valuable tips!
Belle Delinquant's Guide to Traveling!
1. BRING YOUR ENTIRE LIFE WITH YOU...
... because the term "traveling lightly" shouldn't have a place in your lexicon. I'm a creature of habit, I have to bring everything with me. I need to have options! I figure the only people who actually travel lightly are hippies, and like... I hate to break it to you, but I'm not some rich kid from Berkeley. I am a notorious overpacker! Oh welllll. I always seem to forget something important, too. I actually forgot to pack shoes once. SHOES! Ridiculous. I'm one of those assholes who would probably forget to pack their head if it weren't attached.
2. BUY A CHEAP TICKET...
... and charm your way into a better seat! Channel your inner Jack Dawson. Maybe you will find your very own Molly Brown (flight attendant) who will help you leave those losers in steerage behind. On my trip back from New York, I was bumped up to FIRST CLASS! I sat next to Frodo himself, Elijah Wood. Too bad I was asleep the entire time and didn't notice til the end. Why pay for the good seats when you can cheat the system? Up the punx!
3. ALWAYS GET THE WINDOW SEAT
...but never actually look outside. Be serious! Nobody will ever believe you if/when you see a man on the wing, I promise. Assuming you don't get upgraded, you're as good as gold if you have a window seat. You have more space to nap, you won't be bothered with seatmates trying to use the restroom every 5 seconds, and you always get your drink/food first. It's perfect! The only thing that can ruin this is if you are sitting near a crying ass baby, and if that's the case remember that it could always be worse-- you could have been seated in the middle! Worst seat of all, like you should just CANCEL your tickets status.
4. BE YOUR OWN ENTERTAINMENT...
... and pretend to be someone else. This is ONLY for a flight, don't be a fucking weirdo sociopath by doing it anywhere else. I usually fly alone, so I don't have anyone to really talk to. There is only so much my electronics, the inflight entertainment, or the Sky Mall catalog can do. Sometimes you want to make small talk with your neighbors. If you are lucky, they are cool. Good seatmates are the best! Especially when they make sure you are never left out when the drinks come around. Unfortunately, sometimes you sit next to a major Creepius Maximus which is where you gotta get all CATCH ME IF YOU CAN. It can range from the tiny (faking your name) to the gigantic (an entire made up story). In one extreme case, I had to pretend to be a non-English speaking tourist. It sucks when you are clearly trying to listen to the playlist on your iPod that you carefully crafted before boarding, but fucking Kimmy Gibbler over in 37B refuses to get the hint.
5. ALWAYS FRESHEN UP BEFORE YOU LAND...
... cause looking haggard is no way to start a holiday. About a half hour before you land, be sure to sneak away and get it together. This is especially true on long flights. Recycled air is awful and you don't wanna show up with your face so dry it looks like Pride Rock. Not a good look! To quote P. Diddy, you need to "moisturize your situation"! Do it before you land, cause the airport restrooms will be a mad haus!
Remember to have fun, take lots of pics, and flirt with the hot guy at Customs on your way back. ;)
You're welcome!
For those who had no idea, I'm a STEM major (not kidding). I love science like you wouldn't believe, but let's face it- I'm not down with 20 hour labs and trips to the observatory every single weekend. My professor was awesome and I happen to look great in lab coats, but that is clearly not enough to pursue a PhD in that field. I was starting to get burned out on school. I was getting depressed. I needed to make a change ASAP. I put on my jet pack, strapped on some moon boots, and took off [to the Art Building].
I had already taken fashion design years before cause I had nothing better to do, but it was not really my passion. Now that I was back to get a get a degree in Something Important, I chose the sciences. Never one to be "all work and no play", I started taking fashion classes on the side. Eventually it became my refuge. It was a place where the only String Theory I had to worry about was the property of yarn, the only Cosmos on my mind were the drinks after class, and the only time I needed to think about "the Future of Space" was when I discussed my fashion icon Judy Jetson.
While most of the assholes in my classes want to be Duhziners, I'm interested in the nerdier route-- Costume Historian. I had no idea this job even existed but I fell in love right away. It is the perfect balance of Party and Business. It has the word "Costume" [fun] and "Historian" [serious] in it, so it's like a mullet, but socially acceptable. I marched down to admissions and contemplated making the switch completely. I'm not gonna tell yall what school I go to cause I don't need any Fatal Attractions waiting for me behind dress forms. What I will tell you though, is that this is the best school to have chosen for the second round of my College Career. The bad part is, there is tons of clueless riffraff in my classes.
While I'm not there to be a Judge Judy, sometimes it really pisses me off when I get stuck with the bottom of the barrel in a group project. There is a grown ass girl in my class with a fucking plastic KAZAAM backpack. Why?! I hate when people try to be "ironic", it is so unnecessary and just makes them look like douchebags. I'm over here trying to answer the bonus questions and it's kinda hard to concentrate with Shaq in a genie costume staring at me.
Then of course there is the jerk in head to toe Victoria's Secret PINK sweat suits. I am mad that this girl thinks it's acceptable to leave her haus in this shit. I am also tired of the Urban Outfitters losers, like who buy that raggedy ass clothes? It's garbage. Look, I'm not a style icon in the making, but I wouldn't wear a backpack... period. I wouldn't have let those sweats leave the mall. I wouldn't wear shoes that look like they were salvaged from the Titanic wreckage. If I were the Fashion Police, I'd sentence them to DEATH ROW.
It's just a mess. I'm not a hater, I can give credit where it is due... even if it's "not my thing" and it's something I "wouldn't be caught dead in". The bottom line is if you're gonna dress ugly, at least know what you're talking about and stop wasting everyone's time. I wanna be surrounded with people who "get it" and aren't glued to American Vogue, people who don't consider Katy Perry a fashion luminary, and people who don't think Schiaparelli is a type of fucking pasta. Is that too much to ask?
So as you all know, I'm sort of a Grade A Dynamo. I have this stupid sense of adventure that just can't be contained. I am at my happiest when I'm in the air, exploring new places, and generally being a worldly individual. At this point in my life, it's pretty safe to say traveling is a passion of mine. I will book a flight for no fucking reason and figure out what to do later. I'm all walk and no talk, if you catch my drift. I'm also ridiculously fiscally irresponsible, but I'm not in debt cause I don't possess any credit cards. Anyway, after making sure my carbon footprint grew to the size of Texas via flyer miles last year, I decided to give nature a break. I put my passport away, deleted Travelocity from my bookmarks, and stopped visiting my favorite travel forum. I said I'd be more responsible, maybe even get a real job. I said I'd stay home on weeknights, actually do my homework, and be a prim 24 year old. I said a lot of things, dear readers, but I LIED.
It had only been about 2 months into the year when I started feeling "down in the dumps". Every time I stumbled over my deflated suitcase, I felt the skies darken just a bit more. I tried to ease the transition, to no avail. What did it matter if I'd put an over the top chandelier in my room? What did it matter if I had a brand new TV? What did it matter if my room was the baddest goth cave in existence? It was just kinda like... want thingamabobs? I've got twenty. But who cares? No big deal... I WANT MORE! (Ariel, 1989). I missed the excitement of planning for a trip. I missed having my boobs felt up by TSA agents. I missed having crippling jet lag. I missed the Real Me.
And then it happened. It was an unusually hot day in Southern California and I was talking to my girl BFF about how great it would be to lounge at the beach with a frosty drink in our paws. Our birthdays are exactly 2 weeks apart and in the nearly 7 years that we have been friends, we've only celebrated our birthdays together ONCE. Those were the days... we were single and carefree. Well guess what? The stars aligned. It was time to wild the fuck out. Shit is popping off abroad, so we ruled out any international travel. We were kind of in a birthday rut, seeing as we didn't wanna go to Vegas aka the ultimate HAS BEEN of all destinations. We had an epiphany. Who needed a frosty drink on a beach when we could go to PARADISE?! So we did what any [fabulous] assholes with disposable income would do. We booked a trip to Hawaii.
I can't believe I have never been to Hawaii! I've flown over it, of course, but it never crossed my mind as a place to actually vacation. She is a major girl who likes to be pampered and I am a menace who prefers explosions. We are hitting up spas & Pearl Harbor to fulfill our differences, but we still needed an activity that would be mutually enjoyable. We needed a common ground. A quick google search led me to the answer. Two words: SCUBA DIVING!
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Scuba Diving is actually kinda chic. It's sort of like being an underwater Astronaut aka the most kick ass occupation imaginable. What's more, you also get to see real life ship wrecks and marine life in the ultimate HD as it is literally in your face. There is also the whole getting eaten by a shark thing which is kinda glamorous and exotic if you think about it. Guys, I am terrified of the ocean cause there are so many creepy ORGANISMS down there that I do not wanna play with. I refuse to get punked, so it's exactly the reason I am gonna do it. It is snatching me out of my comfort zone and dragging me down to the mysterious and murky depths of the goddamn Pacific Ocean! How balls to the wall is that? We are both Cancers so you know water is our natural habitat. It's probably destiny. I hope the Kraken, the Flying Dutchman, or stupid old Flotsam & Jetsam don't terrorize us. Here's to a very safe DEEP SEA EXPEDITION! Cross your fingers so I can find a sweet dinglehopper to show yall!
Six weeks til Hawaii!
You know those nights when you come home drunk after doing hoodrat stuff with your friends? Like you still have a tiny bit of party left in you, so you can't go to sleep and instead reach for the remote? If you're anything like me, you start to channel surf and get excited when you see that Family Matters is on! Hellll yeah. Urkel is gonna fuck something up. Eddie is gonna get into some really deep shit. Carl is gonna be so pissed! YES! Maybe if you are lucky it will be one of the Stefan Urquelle episodes or if you're even luckier- one of the crossover ones!
But wait- oh god, no. You sat down on your bed with dinner leftovers, half undressed, still buzzing like bees expecting to laugh and instead you find yourself bawling while that corny dramatic music plays. They've sprung a Serious Episode on you. Fuck!
Hasn't this happened to us all? It always seems to be when you are at your most inebriated, too. You want to watch Fresh Prince, but it's the episode where Carlton wants to buy a fucking gun or the one where they get caught up for Driving While Black. No short jokes about Carlton, no Jazz getting thrown out of the haus, no Uncle Phil flipping out. Just tears. Damn.
Maybe you wanna watch Full Haus! Oh wait... it's the episode where DJ has an eating disorder or the one where DJ and Kimmy Gibbler get trashed at a frat party and at the end they reveal that their Mom was actually killed by a drunk driver. How rude!
Why you gotta do us like that, ABC Family? You too, Nick at Night! You came here for fun! You just wanted to re-live the unrivaled block of programming that was TGIF. Instead, things got heavy... a little too heavy, if you ask me. I don't know whose idea this was, but I feel that they should leave the serious episodes for more appropriate times... like 7 in the morning when I'm still asleep, you know? That way I (and everyone else with a life) can be better equipped at handling that emotional trauma. Like damn, did they really just jump Laura Winslow for her jacket? I can't! Let's just keep it light, okay?
There is one thing I love more than anything in the world. It's a 4 letter word that begins with the letter B! It helps me wind down after a stressful day, it takes me away to a better place, and it allows me to meet people I never thought I would. Can you guess what it is? Alright, assholes... I know I'm an alcoholic, but the word I am thinking of is BOOK!
I know it's hard to grasp the concept of someone being both a total genius and being so cool it should be illegal. Well, there's a first time for everything. The future is here! I am a total bookworm. Always have been, always will be. I even had my heart set on being a Librarian... until my Mom decided I should reconsider via being "too pretty to be hiding behind piles of dusty old books all day". Truth!
While most kids were still eating their boogers and learning the alphabet, your girl was reading... and I mean really reading! I wasn't reading some "D is for Dog" junk, I was all about Rainbow Fish and If You Give a Moose a Muffin. Both books were favorites and shaped me into who I am today for obvious reasons. Rainbow Fish is about the most beautiful fish in the sea and the hating ass fish who won't let Rainbow Fish be great. If You Give a Moose a Muffin is about the slippery slope that happens when you try to be nice. I'd rather not give a Moose a damn Muffin if he is gonna want some jam for it, too... feel me? When I finally went to kindergarden, they wanted me to skip ahead a few years cause I was totally ahead of the game. They said that if I didn't skip ahead, everything would become too easy and I'd get bored and slack off. My mom declined, thus turning me into the lazy genius you know today.
In all seriousness, I devoured books like a maniac. I even wore my eyes out and had to get some spectacles! Not that I mind, though. I wouldn't change it for the world, really. I love books so much, it is actually kind of ridiculous. I dragged my mom into Waldenbooks and forced her to buy me a stack of books every weekend. I went crazy at the thrift store buying myself books upon books. Enough was just never enough for me. I am probably a book hoarder, like someone needs to stage an intervention immediately. The good thing is I have great taste when it comes to reading materials. I am not into those shitty self-help books [via being perfect] and I am not into "heartwarming" books, either [too busy having a charmed life]. I am, however, into books like A Little Princess and Weetzie Bat (my autobiographies, duh). My love for books is so intense, that I am even banned from the library because I owe $700! I swear I'm not making it up. I'm a crook4bookz.
The point of this entry is to give yall a heads up about the future. I have finally decided to "get my act together" and put my natural talent to use. I am gonna become a serious writer and most importantly, I'm gonna change lives just like my idols Edward Gorey, Louis Sachar, and Judy Blume. I can't wait til all those assholes who ever tried to put me down have to spend the night outside of a bookstore in the freezing cold while their kids anticipate the release of my newest book. You are allowed to roll your eyes. You are allowed to talk shit. You are allowed to cry when you see my name at the top of the New York Times Bestseller List.
"So, if this does end up being my last letter, please believe that things are good with me, and even when they're not, they will be soon enough. And I will believe the same about you. Love always, Charlie"
EDIT:
Judy Blume emailed me! B)
Everyone has something they don't wanna love but really, really do no matter how hard they try to fight it. For some, it's playing Viva Pinata when no one's around, while others watch those vapid Kardashians on TV til their eyes dry out. For me, it's Willard Christopher Smith.
My love affair began a long time ago with the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. He was so cute with his dumb ass shenanigans! I was always down to tune in and watch him talk shit to Carlton, piss Uncle Phil off, and give Ashley great advice. We had some great times back then, I wasn't even trippin when he made out with Tyra and Nia Long. I just can't be mad at someone who's swag is through the roof, guys.
After that, he branched out onto the BIG SCREEN. Bad Boys, Independence Day, and Men in Black were instant classics. The he got kinda weird and did Wild Wild West, Bagger Vance, and Hitch. What the fuck, Will? If it weren't for his performance in Ali, I would have had to break up with him. But he knew just how to reel me back in. He went ahead and did The Pursuit of Happiness, I Am Legend, and Seven Pounds! Damn, Will. Thanks for making me open up the waterworks for the very first time this Willenium (hehe). Will is just the perfect man to have around! He can fight aliens, he will stop at nothing to find a job, and he can come up with a cure to save humanity after a virus kills damn near everybody. He even looks good as a fucking fish, yall!
People always wanna clown my sweet prince about his music career. Not me! I love his clean raps. Miami is the fucking cut! You are a liar if you say it doesn't make you wanna sip grown people drinks on a beach to beat the heat. Getting Jiggy With It had the best dance moves ever and the video had Will in the finest metallic threads available to man. The best song? It's obviously Just The Two of Us. We could make it if we tried, Will! Just putting it out there. Truly the sweetest song to ever grace my ears. I still listen to it, I'm not even gonna front. Perfection.
As if he wasn't heavenly enough, his family is fucking amazing. Jada is adorable, guys. I'm not even hating. They named their kids JADEN and WILLOW. How fucking narcissistic/perfect is that? I wish I was part of their family, but I'd get kicked out with a quickness cause I have no talent. C'est la vie!
He is the embodiment of all that is good in the world. I am pretty sure he is the best actor of our generation, and you can quote me on that! I will never miss any of his movies for as long as I live. There have only been 2 people in my life that I confided in about my love for Will. All of that has changed! Guess my secret is finally out, huh?
...Or not! B)
the scene of the crime
i wanted to sleep *this* much
