Violet Sunrise

I have a lot of things I need to get down in this blog, and not a whole lot of time. I was planning on starting with what I want to say from a few days ago and working my way to the present, but I feel the need to talk about this morning. It started off bordering between average and crappy because, for one, it was a Monday, and also, my laptop crashed TWICE. Just when I needed it to print a study guide. I marched out of the house saying angrily, "Dad, the goddamn laptop is breaking, again." Then I walked outside and saw the most beautiful sunrise I'd ever seen. If it weren't for the fact that I was almost late because of my bipolar laptop, I would have gone back into the house to get my camera. The sky looked as if it was splattered with hot pink paint and smudged with a bit of violet. I was in such awe, I couldn't move for at least thirty seconds. For some inexplicabe reason, it made my morning that much better, and I was almost sad that the image had disappeared by the time I got to school. What was even sadder was that no one else seemed to notice. I understand that it's only 7 AM but really, that sunrise woke me up. It made me feel almost bad that I sleep well past 10 AM on the weekends.
Anyway, back to a few days ago:
I've been having odd dreams lately. I had one the other night in which Meghan was there, and I didn't remember until the next day what happened. But I also don't want to forget. No reason in particular, I just want to have this in writing. I remember going to her house, which was quite a long drive. Most of the walls instead had glass and whatever wasn't glass was polished wood. It was pretty, and the main theme of the colors was different shades of blue. There wasn't a whole lot of backyard, but there was a forest behind, which was pretty, so it wasn't much to complain about. I sat cross-legged on Meghan's bed and we talked while her mom and my mom made lunch in the other room. They made chicken, which was really ironic, since I had just watched Girl, Interrupted and part of me never ever wanted to eat chicken again. It was good chicken in my dream, and then after lunch we drove to my high school. It should have been hours away, but for some reason it only took a few minutes to get there. We were parked in front of the school and someone came out of the building and walked towards us. The car windows were tinted and I leaned forward, pointing, and said, "Right there."
Except I still don't know who was walking towards us.
Another dream from Saturday night:
I was walking around Stop & Shop with my guitar teacher, except it looked more like BJs because the ceiling was so high. There were a lot of people there, and I couldn't make out their faces, but I distinctly remember the feeling of the store being crowded. The two of us were walking down the aisles, talking, and I noticed that everything was a shade of gray or brown. It wasn't even very light in the store, but it could have been because it was dark outside. We got down to the other side of the store, where all the produce was arranged in aisles that looked more like a farm set up. There were rows of produce almost like when you plant things in a line on a farm. I'm not describing it well, but I also don't work on a farm, so I don't know how to word it. Anyway, my guitar teacher and I are kneeling on the ground, and the kid from my classes, he comes, with some short girl next to him. I'd never seen her before, not even in real life, but he didn't seem to care for her all that much. He turned to look at me, and almost thought he was going to say something, but he didn't.He just turned around and walked away.
I walked home alone (and discovered it was indeed gray outside) and when I came home, the kid from my classes was sitting at my kitchen table. He was eating a tangerine (that's what I get for recently finishing This Lullaby). My parents came up the stairs and I turned and snapped on them. I remember demanding, "Get him the fuck out of my house. You don't get it. I can't be near him. Just get him out."
I marched into the room after this hissy fit, and came back when I had cooled down. Thankfully, he was gone, and my parents told me they found him passed out on the sidewalk, probably from being drunk. That wouldn't have surprised me. He's sweet, but he hangs out with druggies. After that I felt bad, but not because he was passed out drunk on my sidewalk. I felt bad because I had this strange feeling that I could have taken the opportunity to comfort him. To get close than I would have on any normal occasion. After all, it's always in the weakest moment that someone of the opposite sex moves in. The other one is unlikely to refuse at that point.
I woke up feeling strange.

Another note to add to this crazy long blog: Recently I read the book Girl, Interrupted after watching the movie. It was different, but I could see how they needed to change the plot for cinematic purposes. The movie made more sense as a movie, but the book was still intriguing. There were a few passages in particular that stuck out to me. Partially because I think they're interesting and partially because I've felt the same way:
- "Every window on Alcatraz has a view of San Francisco."
- "In our parallel worlds, things happened that had not yet happened in the world we'd come from. When they finally happened outside, we found them familiar because versions of them had been performed in front of us. It was as if we were a provincial audience, New Haven to the read world's New York, where history could try out its next spectacle."
- "I was like an anchorite with a hair shirt. Part of the point was that nobody knew about my suffering. If people knew and admired - or abominated - me, something important would be lost."
- "Isn't there some other way to look at this? After all, angst of these dimensions is a luxury item. You need to be well-fed, clothed, and housed to have time for this must self-pity."

I very much agree with the last two, which I realized afterwards may not be the best thing. The author is writing about her experience in a mental institution. I don't know, maybe I am crazy. Maybe everyone is crazy, and all the crazy people are sane.
I had this crazy feeling the other night. I was sitting in the car on the way home, and for some reason the seatbelt would not budge. I couldn't bend forward because it would lock every time I tried. Usually I get frustrated by this and fiddle with the seat belt until it loosens again. But this time, I let it be. It felt strangely nice to have something holding me, keeping me locked in place.
Even if it was only a seat belt.

This is why I should never read books about crazy people. I start to question my own sanity.