Livin' in the great big city

You would THINK you could have a decent night's rest on a Monday. But on 22nd avenue, that just ain't true. (Other side affects may include rhyming.)

So Monday was nothing but ordinary- work. homework. nap. class. TV and nonsense for a couple hours until I climbed into heaven, aka my bed. I read about 4.5 paragraphs and fell asleep, only to be woken up 20 or so minutes later by something horrible. Terrible. Ear piercing. It was like a banshee in Mandarin. 

I'm a stalker and live in the front of the house, which gives me the authority to stare out the window and leer at people. This lady deserved it. She was making all this racket yelling, and then was moving all this stuff around in front of a house across the street.  I thought she was homeless and being obnoxious, and eventually her antics ended, until...

Around 3am, when the homie who lived next door came home blasting music in his really sweet car that looks something like this,

Which is not cool at all.  Anyway, he parks and proceeds to exclaim, at the top of this lungs, F**K! F**K! F**K! F**K! I was terrified. So again, I poked my nosey ass head out the window, saw him patting the front of his car, kick the truck parked outside, and go into this house. I figured all was right in the world, and drifted off back to sleep. (Mind you, the cops had to come a few weeks ago because this kid was shooting a GUN in our backyards, and then got busted for having a ton of pot. No need to be worried Sarah, no need.)

So in the midst of having the weirdest dreams, one being Nikki opening her mouth to show me her hideously grotesque wisdom tooth coming in, I was abruptly woken up again at 4! If you know me, you know I HATE being woken up for a nonsense reason. I love sleeping, more than most things. I've been known to hold the title of a professional napper. But when I am woken up because of LOUD NOISES, drunk people or other things of the sort, my veins pump with anger. And rage. (Usually only for 13 seconds, but still. Hatred.)

What was I woken up to? CHINESE BANSHEE!!! Doing her same nonsense. A girl next door yelled to her to be quiet, but the lady asked her to call the police. It was obvious something wasn't right, and after 5 minutes on the phone with non -emergency, not 1,2,3, or 4 cop cars came, but FIVE! On a Monday. Guess their weren't enough stabbings in the T-loin.

Me, Katie downstairs, and the girl next door kept our heads poked out the windows to see what was going down, and apparently it was her brothers house, and she was trying to move out. At 2 am. And instead of him opening his own door for her (there is NO way he didn't hear her antics) we had to call the cops and suffer our beauty sleep-not like I need it, I know. 

We watched her get cuffed and the cops said they were taking her to a hospital, because she has a history of mental illness. Really wasn't apparent at the time, eh? Either way, sleep at 5am sucks...when you're sober.

missing

Not like any body reads this anymore, but get ready for an emo post.

Sunday I worked a couple of crazy hours and then went down to SJ to see my homegirl Kayleigh. It's only been a little over a year, but it feels like much to long. I mean, I've known this girl since 4th grade!! I need her in my life. 

So we had a grand old time at her grandparents catered party with an open bar. I emphasize the openness of the bar here. Margaritas were flowing, and for some reason it seemed like a good idea. Long story short Barbie came to pick me up and we went to visit a few friends, but I was definitely not "able to drive."

So Monday I felt like boo boo. I had to drive back to SF, and all of a sudden I got hid with this huge wave of sadness. Not of the 'I want to kill myself' variety, but just sadness. Mostly because I thought of my dad. 

I know I have plenty of people that love me, but sometimes I just remember that there is always going to be a little empty place left for him in my heart. 

I hate that I can't remember his voice. I hate hearing motorcycles and hoping its him coming home. I hate that he isn't here.

And I love that two of my best friends offered their dads to walk me down the aisle (like that will ever happen) but I hate that I would need someone else to do that.

Debbie Downer, I know. But I feel like I've suppressed it for so long, and need to deal with shit sometime. I just wish he was here. I know my life would be completely different and I may have never met the amazing people I have or done the things I have, but to just have one hug from him... I wouldn't hate that.