Well, I’m in L.A., 9:56 PDT. On East Coast time, it’s one in the afternoon. I’m sitting in front of my gate on my final flight from LA to Sacramento.
I am in love with my noise canceling headphones. They allowed me to sleep through nearly the entire transcontinental flight. I watched some of the Wonderful Electric DVD on my iPod, had the inflight beverage, and the next thing I knew I was waking up on the final descent into LA.
I really really really don’t want to take a cab home, but it looks like the only option that will completely protect my precious MacBook from theft. And hell no, am not riding light rail. But it will cost $50 or so. I’ll see if it’s cheaper if I take the bus that drops me off in front of Macy’s downtown and then get a cab from there. I mean, it’s going to be the morning, nobody’s going to be on the buses. I’ll just feel it out. If I feel any shady factor, I’m getting a damn cab.
Also, I had my mom straighten my hair.
This is my “I hate L.A.” face (with newly straightened hair).
What do you think? I think it looks amazing, I’m in love with it.
I’m sort of falling more in love with Karen O. the more that I watch the “Maps” video. I need to listen to that album more.
I’m writing this in the kind of text editor that you’re supposed to write PHP in. It highlights every bit of code I enter, italics and bold. I considered calling Megan and Steve, but it’s short notice and I didn’t call them while I was away anyway. I wish Brian had a car, but then we would probably have so much fun driving around it would be illegal.
Terry is hella asleep. He sent me his last text at 7 a.m.
Or maybe the timestamp is only when my phone received it. Who knows. It’s time for Massive Attack music videos. And more reflection on the fact that I think I have become an AdriTaggart.
I can’t end relationships when they aren’t going well. It’s one of my biggest flaws. What the fuck is Drew doing in Tahoe anyway? Why does anyone go there. My grandma’s going there for a few days too. She told me a week before, but I think she’s lying to make it seem shorter so I won’t have anyone over.
She doesn’t get it. I’m not John. I won’t invite my drunk asshole friends over to destroy everything at her house. That bitch is so twisted. I was telling my East Coast grandma Jean (who is fucking amazing, in all the ways old Italian women can be) about all the things that Grammie does, and she was astounded.
Having Christen gone doesn’t do much for my feeling of having a constant reality either. But I think Brian and I are going to do something. I just don’t trust myself in the same zip code as Terry. And we’re supposed to get coffee and see Paris J’tamie. I mean, yes, the cutest night ever, but it’s cheating.
And I realize: I’m bored by my boyfriend. He’s a great guy, but I just don’t see it going anywhere. We’re at totally different parts in our lives. I guess that’s the truth I’ve been dancing around the whole time.
Man, I’m hungry. Oh yeah! My mom packed me sandwiches. My mom rocks. Eww, crumb on my trackpad.
Gross.
I don’t know what to do today. Hook up my computers. Sleep. Unpack. Oh shit, they’re boarding. Now.
