The first birthday celebration was at Red Lobster where we again had the comedian waiter. Of course I haven't written about him before this point and so for me to say that we had him again is understandably confusing for whomever may be reading this that wasn't a part of the experience. Perhaps I will write about him some other time. For now suffice it to say that his name was Jack and that this was the second time in a row being at Red Lobster that we had him as our waiter. One of the birthday girl's friend was a redhead named Amy. She also went by Amelia and it made me thing of Amy Pond from Doctor Who. AND this Amy from the party was a Doctor Who fan. The food was good, as it should be at such a fine eating establishment, and somehow, while dining at a seafood restaurant, I managed to avoid eating any seafood.
The second was at Applebee's a day later. My dinner was delicious (and will be too; I still have some left over in the fridge). Afterwards, we went to the birthday girl's apartment where her roommate had made a cake that really has to be experienced rather than read about. My attempt at an explanation, which is doing the cake no justice mind you, is that it is (this too I have a large piece of in the fridge) a layer cake. Four layers alternating chocolate batter and Oreo. I knew not of the existence of such a cake as the latter. But's it's combination with the former made one awesome cake. I resisted quoting the song "Still Alive." I really wanted to...but I didn't do it. Just so you know.
I can't sleep. So I'm writing. I should be writing poems for English. But what will I write about? Reply with any suggestions. They are welcome.
There are so many things I want to put down here. So many thoughts trying to break free. They don't all make it in here though. Some are elsewhere in journals and such, and some are in stories I've written for classes, and others still are lingering in minds of my friends and acquaintances to whom I pour out my soul. But they don't all make it here. They are edited, it seems, as they come to the top of my brain. Like a book before it's published or an essay before it's handed in. That's the writer in me I guess, wanting it to be perfect, wanting what I tell you to be perfect. I want to tell you, part of me does at least, of what I think others think of me, of my self loathing that eats away at me slowly over time like termites on a hard piece of oak or moths on an old sweater that's been improperly wrapped and stuffed in the back of a closet to be pulled out and worn at a later date. Instead I write to you of procrastination and of birthdays and insanely delicious cake.
Wow...I got really deep for a minute there. That felt good...it's been a while.
I'm going to try and go to sleep now. I won't right away; that's a given. I'll lie there for a while because I'm still not tired. This is my own fault of course. It's what happens when you drink an energy drink with the intention of staying up to work on homework and then deciding after the fact that you've done all there is to do and that you're going to go to sleep anyways. Perhaps a game of Bejeweled will fatigue my eyes enough to coax me into dreamland. If I am blessed enough to dream. I always consider that a blessing. What will most likely happen is sleep will come, and then I will awake and it will be time to get ready for class. There will be a sense of the passage of time but that will be it. No dreams. No adventures. But I pray that I will dream and be whisked away for a few hours to the land of my subconscious where I will be whatever it is that my mind has made up. Last night for a time, I was a detective investigating a murder. Maybe tonight I'll travel in time and space in a little blue box, or maybe I'll solve world hunger. Who knows? Maybe......I'm starting to feel sleepy now. Just a little bit but it is just enough. Goodnight and pleasant dreams.
Always,
Your's In Writing
