Note: I started writing this on Wednesday in the wee early hours of the morning.
Alright moving onto the adventures of my life.
Today (or rather yesterday, since it's the middle of the night, and I'm on a plane racing against the future, aka a three hour time difference), I took my last final of my second semester of pharmacy school. Woo! And now I'm on spring break! It was sorta chaotic after the final: running errands, packing, trying to shove liquids into tiny bottles. Stinking rules. I should've been heading home by 3:30-ish, but it ended up being 5:30 by the time I got my bum out the door. And the Roomie didn't get to curl my hair! Or rather, I didn't get to have the Roomie curl my hair. Probably doing her a favor by not subjecting her to that sort of torture. Btw, the Roomie is my lovely best friend at school and a fellow resident of my apartment (as the name implies). I shall go into more detail about my friends in a later post.
While I was driving home like a madman (the usual), I passed by something very strange. There was a sign somewhere south of Livermore that read:
KICK THE BUMS OUT
East Bay Tea Party 2010
What the heck. Poor bums. And what does this hafta do tea parties???
I must look this up and get back to you. Virtual you. Whoever you are.
I stopped by Costco for gas and dropped into the warehouse to fill up my water bottle. And of course, they just had to have a sample table right inside the door with my favourite food. Or one of the many. Barbeque! Beef brisket with scrumptious BBQ sauce… Mmmm. Since I was in rush, I snatched one, shoved it in my mouth, threw the toothpick away, and walked away all in one motion. How…lady-like of me.. It was delicious, and I really wanted to grab 5 more, but if I hadn't already looked like a pig when I gulped down that large, yummy piece of meat, I'm sure grabbing a few more would certainly get that message across. What can I say…I love meat! And the plane TVs are showing a lovely cooking show right now. Excuse me as I mop up the drool. I love food. You'll soon get to know that very, very well.
Touchdown in Boston! I don't think I've ever been to Boston. Til now, of course. Flight to Philly in 90 minutes. For some odd reason, I thought Boston and Philly were in the same state. I was thinking, since I've been to Philly before, maybe I've been to Boston. Oh wait. Two completely different states. Never mind. (Is never mind two words? I think nevermind looks better). AND in Boston, people say things like, "Terminal B is on the otha side of the ehrport. Just go right through the pahking lot." Oh, Christine, you're certainly not in California anymore! Where's Toto and my sparkly slippers? Thanks, friendly airport employee! I shall go right through the PAHKING lot! Ha!
Something about flying. I strongly dislike it. Not hate! No, that strong emotion is reserved for red-eyes and how I always pick red-eye flights. It just seems more efficient to take a flight in the middle of the night, just so I can maximize my time during the day at my destination. Well, at the cost of sleep? I should reconsider. For I need complete silence, darkness, and stillness to sleep; none of which are present in a giant hunk of metal hurling through the skies. I'm so tired. Not even a wink of sleep.
I am now in Philly. It's chilly in Philly. Honestly, other than the Bostonian accent, this doesn't feel like the other coast. San Francisco is quite cold, too. Granted, I've only seen two different airports, but airports tend to be quite similar. There are people milling about: overdressed, unimpressed business people; rambunctious kids running around; colorful lone travelers from exotic places; bored employees looking busy; and me. Oh, and the expensive shops and eateries. Definitely a constant in airports.
I tend to vacillate between two public personas, especially while traveling alone. Should I act younger and seem more helpless so people will be more inclined to help me out? Or should I act tough and as though I won't take shit from anybody so people don't try to mug me? I think I lean more towards helpless just because I feel as if I AM younger than most other travelers. Maybe it's because I'm younger that I'm not a good target for a mugging. I don't have any money! Poor as a pillbug. Just made that phrase up. It's gonna be all the rage in five years. Just watch.
Two thoughts to ruminate:
1. Why is it that when people fall asleep with their mouths open, you have such a strong urge to throw things in their mouths and draw on their faces?
2. Why is it that when you're taking a multiple choice exam and get four B's in a row, you have an inexplicable urge to go back and change one of those answers for the sake of not having four B's in a row?
Gosh, I could go on and on forever. But for your sake, I'll stop. For now.