i swore that when i got to california i was going to write every single day, and of course i've been here 3 days and i haven't even written a word. it's not that i'm being lazy, it's just that there's too much to do! i'm beyond overwhelmed. i do however, feel that it's really important for me to document this stuff. i just need some time to process it all.
Like for example, the plane ride was so fucking traumatic that i had to wait a few days before i could even think about it again. what happened was, i left connecticut at noon for laguardia, and i didn't even arrive in sacramento until 1 am cali time (which is 4am CT time). So, yes, if you did the math, i spent sixteen hours traveling and it was HELL! The ride up to laguardia wasn't bad. we stopped for food and took our time. laguardia itself wasn't that bad either, although all they had in the bookstore was twilight so i had to read eclipse again, but even that was fine. the trouble started when i was actually all the way on the plane and we were taking off.
it's been five years since the last time i had flown prior to this, and i don't know if my body changed or if i just forgot, but holy mother of god, i hate flying. all the bizarre changes in pressure, the fact that the airplane seat is barely large enough to seat a five year old, plus my fear of heights as i watched new york city turn into this tiny speck of glitter, all of that together made me so sick that i literally had a panic attack in midair when i realized that i had to do it all over again once i got on my connecting flight.
and of course, the connecting flight was delayed, because, get this, someone on the plane before me had a medical emergency and they had to do an emergency landing at a hospital. i truly hope that whoever that was is feeling better and getting the best care they possibly can, but honestly, how often does that happen? my guess is only when i'm flying. so, the flight was delayed and the continental people were being total assholes about it, refusing to answer anyone's questions about when our flight was coming in, or what gate we were leaving from. i called everyone i know and cried about how i'd never leave the houston airport, and i'd be stuck there forever and then, we finally got on the plane and this jackass asked me to switch seats with his daughter so she sit closer to him and i felt bad, so i said yes and then i ended sitting next to a fat man in an aisle seat. at that point i gave up and ate one of the klonopin that my mom gave me and attempted to sleep through it, but alas, that stupid drink cart kept hitting me in the elbows and ankles. in short it sucked.
many more thngs happened after that, but i'm just getting started. more later.
love always
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