Stream of Thought

Right now, I should be packing up my life and getting ready to move back to Tuscaloosa, but I can't get motivated (hm, wonder why.). So I thought I'd blog out a little nervous energy.

Yeah, I said "blog out."

I had to go to the ER this morning because of course I contracted strep throat on a Sunday when doctor's offices are closed. For my mono test, the nurse used the needle they use on infants because I kept jerking away from the big needle. As a child, I was not afraid of needles in the least, but now it seems the older I get, the more afraid I am.

Something else I do more and more the older I get: cry at weddings. A close friend of the family got married today, and tears streamed down my face as she walked toward her beaming groom. I don't know if I cry now because it's easier to picture myself as the bride... or because of fear that I'll never be the bride. Ha. (half laugh means I'm only half kidding)

I love nicknames. Even if it's just Linds, I love the familiarity of nicknames. When I was little, my dad's friends called him Fish, so my brother was, of course, Little Fish, and they called me Angel Fish. A couple of my friends call me Zoe, shortened from Lindzo, and I've always liked that because my brother is the first person I remember calling me Lindzo. Trey almost always calls me LC on the phone, and I respond with the appropriate JT. And Anna has recently added Lindsanity to the list after Perez Hilton's nickname for Lindsay Lohan. It makes me laugh every time.

I mended a dress last night with my sewing machine. It was very domestic of me, and I defeated the point of mending a dress by pointing out my seaming skills to everyone who would listen.

I have to clean my room completely before I can undertake any major task, like homework or packing. I can't function in the clutter. I am easily distracted, so even a misplaced book can lead to me reading at the foot of my bed for an hour before I realize I was about to pack for an overseas trip. I need to be able to spread my textbooks and notes out across the floor or lay out outfits on the bed. So at some point post-blog I'm going to clean up this little cave I call home.

My "niece" Mallory is probably the most beautiful baby alive. Sure, you can say I'm biased if you want, but seriously. Most Beautiful. Ever. I stare at her like a creeper all the time.

When you text message me, I will respond like white lightning. It is so rare that I don't have my phone with me at all times. I wish iPhone had a clever nickname like the "crackberry" because I am equally addicted. I can't even watch an entire television episode without checking Facebook, Twitter, and my e-mail during commercials. It's sick.

I'm getting a cat named Macy tomorrow. I am really excited to add that little hairbrain to my life in Tuscaloosa.

I can't eat solid food right now for the fear my strep-ridden throat will be scratched beyond repair. My sweet mommy is making me mashed potatoes right now, and I think I'll go eat now. Toodles.