reagan

Karma always comes back to me in the form of flights.
Yesterday it was a full red eye flight from Seattle to New York.
I almost didn't make it past the security check.
The Xbox in my backpack may have been a bomb. And i forgot to take into consideration, the joints that were sitting in the front pocket of the questionable backpack. Lucky, they figured out an xbox is only an xbox, and the pot was wrapped to look like a wad of blue masking tape.

I was in the middle seat.
to my right: a woman so wide that she couldn't put the arm rest down.
to my left: a man who was constantly tapping on things. 5 hours of nail tapping
to my front: A constant seat pusher. You know who I'm talking about. The people who press back on their seats, even tough they know its as far back as its gonna go, 10 times within an hour hoping that it will magically turn into a bed.
and my seat: broken tray table. broken seat back. holding one pissed off Chloe St Reagan

The shitty plane ride was well worth it, for the past week i got to spend with Yayoi, Mari, and Mizue. They're so pleasant and excited, all the time. Life seems slightly more grim without having them smiling at me first thing in the morning.

Its been a long intense 2 months for me. I don't know where to start, so i wont. if my computer wasn't so backed up, i would feed you a visual display.

my apartment has fallen apart, since I've been gone.

the entire kitchen reeks of gasoline
theres a huge hole in my window
my celling is on the verge of collapsing into the middle of my room (crossing my fingers for no rain for a while)
mice have infested the house
my turtles smell like tuna thats been left out to rot.

i should really be taking care of all of this before i get used to it
but for now i think I'll go back to listening to Helen Kane and laying in my own bed of 5 feathered comforters and 11 feathered pillows as the sun warms my face.

i miss mom and dad and candy...