Completely disregard that last post. Friday night was fucked up. As you can probably deduce from my last entry, it was a rather quick descent into drunken oblivion for me beginning around the time I started writing it. I ended up making it into bed safely that night, but not before I had pissed on a tree in public (only once, thankfully), fell on my ass in public (twice, shamefully), and upchucked all of my insides (three times, unfortunately…twice in the bathroom and once in the kitchen sink >_>). Needless to say, the next day was positively hellish. I was out of commission for most of the day, as I slept through most of my hangover, but the times when I was awake??? I so do not ever want to repeat that….
Vodka is not my friend, and I am beginning to wonder if Chicago is either…. It’s a nice place if you’re into the business of the city and that lifestyle. But, the more times I visit, the more I discover that I, in fact, am not. You would think Chicago would be exciting for a young woman, what with all the bustling people and posh places. But I feel like a nobody when I’m there…kind of like a useless face lost in the crowd on the train or in the street (sometimes literally lost on the train or in the street..) I felt like time was moving at an eerily fast pace in Chicago, or like I was only person unnerved by it. Even when with friends, it’s easy to feel small and alone in the city when you are accustomed to a more suburban brand of isolation.
It was a pleasant week, however. Some highlights included recovering from Friday night, eating Chipotle twice, and watching Lost in Translation. I had seen various bits and pieces of the film before on several different occasions, but I had never had the chance to sit down, watch it all the way through in sequence, and really think about the film in depth. I remembered liking the scenes that I had seen, but now that I have seen it in its entirety, I have determined that it really is one of my favorites (a decision clearly catalyzed by the aforementioned urban shock).
I had an interesting ride home. I got one of those seats on the bus where you’re facing someone across a table. I was across from an older woman who was accompanied by a small child. I slept for the majority of the first half of the 6 hour trip. I was slouched in my chair, my floppy hat down over my eyes and my jacket draped over one shoulder, probably looking something like the sleepy Mexican. However, when I awoke to darkness, I remembered that I failed to bring an iPod. Thus I was forced to listen to my own inner monologue. I became really anxious and nervous. I wasn’t even thinking about anything in particular, but whatever I was thinking about was really depressing.
I must have appeared so forlorn and glazed over that the older woman across from me actually reached over, touched my arm, and asked me if I was okay. She then asked me where I was from, and this led to a chain reaction of questions. For the next hour this woman and I discussed everything from my education and career aspirations, to marriage and her children. I learned that the small child was her grandson, a one-year old named John Jr. I also learned that this little boy shared the same birthday as me, September 17th, and that one of his aunts used to work in Creve Coeur, where I live. Small world, eh?
Last, but not least, I’m afraid I may have picked up a germ on the way home from Chicago. I suddenly feel nauseous. I had an abnormal bowel movement when I got home, and now I feel like an upchuck might be in order… 😦