Keep Your Seatbelt Fastened While In Your Seat

My first in-flight blogging session, and I have nothing profound to say. All I can think about is not puking again. Infomercials are on every TV-station, I cant read the book I paid $17 for at an over-priced airport Books'n'Snacks shop (because Eat Pray Love --> Nausea Gag Wretch), and everbody on both sides of the country is too asleep to facebook chat with me. I hate right now. But not a lot. Just [ this ] much. There is a weird movie on Comedy Central (ok, so not ONLY informercials are playing) with the Doogie-Howsery guy from Glee, Tobias Funke from Arrested, the actress who looks like the red-head actress from Clueless but isn't (I think she was Steve's girlfriend on the old 90210 for a minute), and Anna Faris as a brunette (which is weird). And I'm too frazzled to actually try to watch it, but am glancing up from time to time to watch Anna Faris antics which never cease to amuse me. She is a funny girl. And this cast is curious. On another note, I have noticed that I never ever ever spell from correctly. I always spell it form. This annoys the hellouttame. I do everything in my life based on muscle memory, so when one of my muscles remembers a lie, it completely ruins my sense of order and well-being. It's like when I accidentally put soap on my toothbrush or pump 5x the shampoo I need or got off at the wrong Metro stop or think too hard to play the Moonlight Sonata by instinct. These occurrences makes me feel like I am about to go extinct. If I can't do most everything by muscle memory, life as I know it will cease to be possible. Typing Form instead of From is particularly bad because I do it every time. I have no hope for reform, either. That's how I feel about the matter.

I just read Seymour: An Introduction by J.D. Salinger and I liked it. (No I'm not shouting out to Katy Perry.) I liked it because I loved Franny & Zooey with all of my heart, and both novellas are centered on The Glass Family of 8 (?). (I acknowledge the fact that i'm capitalizing arbitrarily, but I feel to nauseated to care.) Most of Seymore: An Intro is told in parentheses (which may be why I am using a lot of them tonight/this morning). The narrator was entirely too self-aware to be described as anything other than self-aware. His purpose was to describe his brother S, who had committed suicide 10 years prior. (There is a lot of near-pornographic commercial time on Comedy Central at 3am. Girls Gone Wild adverts & such. It's kind of ewey.) My worst fear is that someone in my family (or someone I adore) will committ suicide. I have several theories about why this fear plagues me, not the least of which is that my great-grandfather (great uncle?) did just that. I won't go into the others (just imagine I typed them all out and then erased them all) because they typecast me as extremely neurotic. Which I'm not exactly. But I am hungry. Nutrigrain bars are all I brought, so let it be. Which is the definition of Amen. "So let it be." I like that. I always wondered what Amen meant.

I almost fell down an escalator tonight at the airport. Form the (from the) top to the bottom. I was talking on my cell phone to my Nicoracle and dragging a bag and wearing a backpack and failed to grab the railing. I felt all nervous to be riding without a firm grip on the rail, so I tried to get off, but it had already started moving down, so I dropped my bag and tumbled up to the top. Barely. A hush fell over the travelers sitting in chairs around this escalator. I laughed hysterically on the phone to Nicole and relayed the details (mainly to keep myself from having a panic attack, because I know I said I'm terrified of suicides but I'm nearly as scared of tumbling down escalators ((I am uniquely uncoordinated on steps of any kind)), but also to calm down my audience, most of whom probably soon texted at least one person, "I watched some girl ALMOST fall down an escalator tonight! It was so freaky."). If I had fallen, I would have died. No doubt. Neck broke, brain jellied, dead. But I lived. It might be a while before le prochaine fois j'approche un escalier. Oh no, I'm falling into bad French. That means I'm sleepier than I thought. 45 more minutes. Time for a snack a nap and a snap (because snack + nap = snap of course).

Red-eye flights are over-rated. I've never felt less human. Eat it Virgin America.