early morning subway musings:

The familiar, musty scent of male cologne is wafting down the train platform. Like an older man, in his attempt for youth, bathed himself in Stetson, letting the pungent oils settle into every crease and fold in his skin- dousing his face, slicking back his hair. As if this strange ritual was sure to attract every eligible woman in a 50 mile radius- offending their senses, berating their nostrils, and leaving them light-headed and vulnerable to his advances.

I'm trying to find the culprit- usually it's a 60 year old Italian man with a gold chain nestled into his overabundant chest hair who catches your 1/2 second gaze and nods and smiles. I know then that I've only encouraged his behavior- furthered his belief that these tactics are effective mating rituals. That every woman fantasizes of drowning in a sea of ambrosial sweat underneath a hairy, Italian man. Ignore his advances and you're simply playing hard-to-get. Can you win?

Charlie is convinced that I have a sleeping disorder.


He offers adorably helpful suggestions such as "drink tea before bed" or "get into a stretching routine", "take Valerian root", "relax your mind" "count sheep" and I keep reminding him that it's not that I *can't* sleep.. it's that I don't *want* to sleep.

Is it so bad that I consider sleep to be a colossal waste of time? That it inhibits my creative genius? Think it an unnecessary expense of time? There are a million things I deem more worthy of my time than sleeping.

It's hard to look into his precious face and tell him, "sorry, baby, I just hate sleeping".

It probably is a disorder. But fixing it would definitely be a colossal waste of time. And then, my time would be doubly wasted- once on fixing my sleeping disorder and twice on actually sleeping.

His thoughtful, caring suggestions are starting to wear on my willpower, however. He may prevail after all.

Oh- 5 am, I'm up blogging.

It does happen occasionally.

I should have slept more last night. Generally speaking, I don't get as much sleep as the average human, but it's enough sleep. Last night was definitely not enough. With the time change, and the early flight (that I will soon embark on), bedtime didn't happen until midnight, wake up happened at 5... which felt like 4.

Miserable.

Hold that thought, I'm going to make a second cup of coffee.

--
Though night holds some of the same characteristics as early morning (dark, warm, quiet), night vibrates with life, thought, anticipation, excitement. Morning is tenebrous and serene. No buzz of sentience; the thought-space is clear.

If I had to choose, I'd choose early morning. Not too early- when it's too early, desperation sets in. The fear that you're the only cognizant being in existence. But I love night too.. that warm trepidation, perturbation- being part of a city that seems to live and breathe on it's own, in a beat, a rhythm.

and that, friends, is why i hate sleeping. to miss out on any part of being extant- to put my introspection, my intuition on hold for even a time is almost unbearable. but also, infinitely human and inescapable. Oh, life!

I'm thankful for...

dismal, gray days. A quiet heart. rooftop gardens. chewing gum. the whiskery profiles of dog snouts. nervous anticipation. patient bus drivers. the warm, buttery scent of coffee. the wake in puddles as you drive through them- like a tiny lake. skeleton trees. the thin layer of froth that sits atop a fresh Americano. airplanes. seagulls. headphones.

Sarah Stehouwer, thank you so much for your concern. My sleep habits aren't so terrible that I get up at 5:47 am to blog... at least not generally. I changed my blog to "Eastern Time".. though in haste, almost "Easter Island Time".

you know what came of slumbering next to my computer for a while? waking up, blinking and confused, at 2:30 am with my lights and all of my clothes on. it's not even worth describing what my eye makeup looked like at that point, but you can probably imagine- all up on my cheeks.

leopold is ridiculous this morning. he tore me from my comfortable morning, resting in bed, because he was up to something... skye let me borrow her beautiful dwell tote for my trip to wisconsin this weekend (wait, give me a minute to swallow the excitement of uttering that phrase)... he was on top of the dwell tote, reaching one long, black arm into the bag and then jumping straight up into the air. Repeatedly. I quickly intercepted- you don't do that to a $300 bag, I'm sorry kitten, and then went to make coffee. He followed me, used the rug to sharpen his nails, and when I stopped him, scratched my naked foot. Ty-pi-cal.

you know, i stopped liking john legend on premise. all of his songs are about cheating. seriously, listen to the lyrics sometime. yeah, he's hot and all.. but if he can't stick to monogamy he should try being single. then he won't have to cheat on girls and write albums about it. right? i'm all about simplifying people's lives for them. want me to simplify your life for you? just tell me... i love to micromanage.


Now cue the smoke machines and the simulated rain
But not too loud 'cause the baby's sleepin
I wonder if it knows what the world is keepin
Up both sleeves while he lay there dreamin
-Lupe Fiasco

so I've been experimenting with twitter as you can see on the right hand side of my blog. it's kind of fun. and very self-indulgent.

the word "self-indulgent" always makes me think of chocolate. It's a shame I don't have any.

some days are exactly the same. work, come home, turn on the computer, get into bed, let a cat crawl into my lap, work until I fall asleep. Switch it up with a mug of tea, some television, thirty minutes staring out the window; but other than that, the formula is down. i'll stay awake until midnight in case charlie calls. not that i'm waiting by the phone.....

my bed is warm and comfortable, and i feel dozy. i may spend a while slumbering next to my computer. now there's an exciting way to really switch it up.

In case anyone was wondering... i tried the sea salt spray today.

And I am proud to say that I have succeeded in taking totally clean hair and making it dirty. My hair was tangly and unmanageable all day- not unlike beach hair, however. Not sure what I expected. Oh, Elissa.

My day was spent at Cassie's lounging on her bed, job searching while she did homework. It was comfortable. Even the same boring task can benefit from a change of scenery.

Now it's back to busyhouse, drinking tea with the Fatcats, watching the traffic light outside of my window change from green to yellow to red and back again. A cycle that continues regardless of traffic.

sometimes, charlie will write me a text and it will leave me totally incapacitated. I'm not used to feelings like this. The way that a heartbeat aches in your chest in excitement, joy, and anticipation is not familiar to me. My heart has never truly beat for a boy. Red light again- reflecting onto the wet pavement. car intercepted. Green. my chest will tighten, it becomes difficult to draw a breath, and i smile for miles and bury my face in pillows. these aren't typical elissa bristow gesticulations. Though I come off as impulsive, raw, and wild it's generally calculated and precise. I'm not the kind of girl you find smiling and burying her face in pillows.

oh- what is happening to me?

After a day at the beach, your hair leaves with this amazing, incomparable texture made up of sticky sun screen, sand, and the salt water. Though a shower is inevitable for your body, you'd almost prefer to go on a date because your hair is bomb.com

This afternoon I was perusing the aisles of target and I decided- hey, salt water is just sea salt... and water... right? I'll make my own. Millions of women do this. I found a spray bottle and was on my merry way.

Approximately 2 tsp (I never measure, it's against my very nature- often cataclysmic though it hasn't stopped me yet) of salt, about a cup of warm water... and for good measure I added a couple drops of an oil-based perfume... and voila! My hair is bone dry and pin straight at the moment and yet, something told me, "Elissa, it's a good idea to try it now". Obviously false, but I'm impulsive. So now, I have salty, messy-in-a-bad-way but smelling great hair, and a strange powdery film (of salt) covering my hands. Tomorrow, when my hair is damp, I shall try again. And hopefully emerge victorious.

***

Early morning train journaling, transcribed:

It's perplexing to think that I'm leaving- and have no plans to return. This isn't a long vacation, it's a new chapter in life.

It brings me back to my formative years, when I used to spend hours pondering the omnipresence of God. The fact that He had no beginning and furthermore, no end. That He continued regardless of human fallibility. One day I would cease to exist, and God would still exist. Like a cycle, a circle. No end, no beginning. It took a leap of faith to grasp this concept- to know that there are things in this universe that I'll never understand- that go way beyond human comprehension.

I'm taking a similar leap of faith here. There's no way for me to see or know the future. Do I disregard any opportunities here because I'm scared to fail? Or do I take a leap of faith- trust- and go in knowing that I may not succeed in all of my endeavors, but that the lessons validate the journey. And any endeavors that prosper along the way I count as blessings and take joy in. After all, we were never promised success in life. The joy is in the journey.