my life as a scarecrow

It's 2:48 am and I can't sleep. I have so much running through my head it's impossible for me to even begin counting sheep. Plus I haven't taken a math class since high school so I probably wouldn't be very successful in the whole number business right now. I'm not going to get into the things running around my head in a way resembling my cross-country-star-little-sister barreling along at her 5 minute miles (speaking of, she actually sounds like she's awake right now too. GO TO SLEEP SISTER) because that would just not be appropriate. Instead, I'm just going to go on a sleepless rant that probably won't make much sense later. Oh well. People do this type of thing when they're drunk tired. Right?

for the record, i'm really not drunk. i don't even know what alcohol smells like. moving on.

Tomorrow morning (aka later today) I get the stitches from my face removed. I seriously can't wait because as of right now they just seem like weird hairs growing out of my face that I can see in my peripheral. I feel like a scarecrow or a witch with one of those hairy moles. Except for that was the whole point, to have the mole removed. So that's confusing.

It's been interesting, this whole surgery/cutting/bandaging/numbing/swelling/stitching thing that's been my life this last week. Everyone knows I'm not one to relish in any of those things on other people, so the fact that it happened to me? I don't think about it too much because....ugh. I was so lightheaded the first time I took my bandages off to switch them that I had to lay down. Twice. Later that day I resolved to not be a "pansy", took the band-aid off, and really looked at what was going on up in there.

I promptly started crying. CRYING. Like, tears rolling down my cheeks. My mom and sister were kind and asked me what was wrong. Through the sobs I responded, "I just looked at myself in the mirror." Legitimately, my reflection made me cry. you can laugh. They comforted me while I cried things like, "What have I done to myself?" Looking back I think I might have irrationally jumped to the conclusion that the surgeon had messed up, the cut was too big too heal and my smiling/laughing/talking the previous night had destined me to a life of dis-figuration. The only bright side was that maybe Dumbledore would hire me because I would now so closely resemble Mad-Eye Moody.

If I were Mad-Eye would you be in my fan club? 

Please?

The first few days of my bandages I tried not to go out at all. I mean, I went to church and that happened to be the day that the directory woman insisted on taking my picture, despite me pleading that maybe I could just send her one instead. Every person at Home Depot probably thought I had had a bad run in with a chainsaw and all the kids thought I was a mummy. I'm sure of it.

Eventually I got used to my band-aids and would even forget I had them on. So once I regained some self-esteem I went shopping at the mall. On the escalator I was behind a cute baby/toddler who wouldn't stop looking at me. I tried smiling and making faces at him, then realized that I was probably traumatizing the child and decided to just take a picture of him instead.

Oh, you thought I was lying?

Anyway, it's been an hour. Maybe I could sleep now. Oh, and I promise I'm not as creepy as I sound/look. Sometimes I just take pictures of kids. No harm.

Ok. I'm beyond creepy. Someone help me. It's late.

peace and Chuckie Keeton.
usu deserved to win solely because of him. 

rrw

*****OH MY GOSH THE BIGGEST SPIDER IN THE WORLD JUST CRAWLED UNDER MY BED. LIKE, THIS SPIDER WAS SO BIG I HAD TO KILL IT WITH A BROOM. ITS YOUNG ARE GOING TO EAT ME IN MY SLEEP. FAREWELL WORLD.*****