Title stolen from a facebook flair. I think I love facebook, I think, mostly because I love the flair. You should join facebook so I can send you flair–if I don’t already.
Anyway, I was driving home today with my brother, who came home with me. He lives Oregon and came down on the Amtrack train. He didn’t arrive until late, or rather early morning, and was very nice about knocking on my door very loudly although it meant he had to stand outside for about five minutes. I didn’t go back to sleep because, well, because, and it turns out I got about three hours sleep total. So I made eight cups of coffee with the coffee maker my parents bought me from Walmart for eight bucks. I drank about five cups of that…my brother got the other three. Then, on the road, we got large milkshakes with lunch, lots of sugar really, and then got 32 oz. sweet teas from McDonalds. I haven’t had tea that sweet since I made it that way in middle school. Wow. Now I’m drinking more coffee, and totally on a different topic than what I intended to write about, because all I really wanted to do was talk about something I thought about during the trip, not tell about the coffee or rather the trip itself, just the thought; it’s the caffine and the sugar rush doing me in although on the plus side while writing this I’m not actually talking out loud to everyone for the first time since we got back home…the coffee my mom made is peppermint coffeee and very pepperminty…minty.
Anyway. Periods are good.
So that’s right, when I was driving home I was thinking that the road looked really old. And that made me kinda sad because I only remember living here. It shouldn’t look old…that only makes me realize that time is passing, and soon I’m actually going to have to grow up for real, and take care of myself. Let’s not talk about that.
I have to go to the other brother’s play in ten minutes. Both of them (the brothers) are wearing suits…they’re soooo cute! (Don’t tell them I said that). So the thing about small towns in the middle of nowhere though, is that they don’t change, really. So there’s no real reason to admit how different everything is. The only real thing that’s different about the route in between is that the planted trees in the fire area are actually starting to grow to the point where it almost looks like a forest again. Even the old standing dead tree is still…well, standing. It’s a beautiful route, and one I’ll still be taking awhile. So I knew that.
I’m leaving. This post may disappear because I’m kinda high on caffine right now and completely forgot to make my point, which was I don’t like growing up, and when visiting like to pretend that I’m still younger mentally than I am, althrough really, I’m not too bad. I’ll have to work on it soon.