Shipping Included

by - 12:20:00 PM

Being the youngest of seven, Josh tends to live a life of his own. Without speaking my mind too much (something I'm obviously not accustomed to) I'll just say that sometimes he thinks the world does indeed revolve around him; maybe that the world, and all it's occupants, are aware of him and where he belongs. Thinking about Josh, I'm reminded of a quote said by Sue Sylvester, a character in the TV Series "Glee." Sue says something like, "I will no longer be carrying around photo ID. Want to know why? People should know who I am." This is why we felt it necessary to label him, along with the luggage, in the airport on the way to Vietnam-just in case the whole world is not aware of who he is.

Lately, I've been able to relate to Josh (and, yes, I'm purposefully not acknowledging the fact that Josh probably learned this train of thought from Yours Truly-in order to make myself feel a little better). I've been fighting illness for over a week now. And I mean it when I say fighting. I'm sleeping like there's no resurrection, making a conscious effort to eat better, buying orange juice it's going out of style, and let's not mention the Sudafed being popped as though it's 1999. Healing? Negative. Last night I was awake at 1:30 am, coughing, aching, and could be found watching Hannah Montana until 6:30 when it was time for work.

Needless to say, I'm feeling a little lost. I wish someone would be constantly aware of me, and if they weren't they would automatically put me on a conveyor belt to be sent to someone who does know me-and hopefully cares. I made the comment to my roommate last night, "I feel like I need to sleep for 13 days, then spend 12 hours in a giant hug with a croissant and hot chocolate."

I wouldn't mind being labeled with my home address, either. That sounds marvelous. I can shipped back to that lovely street in P-town. That street where my mom won't be the only one aware of me, but multiple mother figures to take care of me, feed me peanut M&M's, and probably loan me a book or two.

But, I'll acknowledge reality, and admit that it's slightly stupid and dorky to wear my dad's name and address on my back. I'm also the first to admit that nice, perfect boys are the best substitute to a conveyor belt directed toward home.

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