* But no worries, because I'm now on Instagram.
My mind races these days. Even in sleep, pictures fade in and out. They breathe colors, sounds, textures, and memories and I often wake up not knowing where I am, what day it is, what time it is, or who I am. I am not myself these days. I anger easily, cry easily, sleep hard, or don't sleep at all.
I need a solution. I need to escape.
This weekend, thankfully, we're going to Hannibal, Missouri, the
hometown of Mark Twain. I'm eager to sleep in a soft, unfamiliar bed,
and to explore history, both myth and fact. Furthermore, this will not
be the first time we visit an author's former home. A few years ago,
Hans and I took a road trip during
spring break. We visited the homes of six southern authors. (William
Faulkner's Rowan Oak and Flannery O'Connor's Andalusia were my
favorites.) Anyway, for Hannibal, my dad booked a room at a bed and breakfast for us.
It will be a castle, I'm sure.
You can keep up with the weekend adventure on Twitter or Instagram.
Yes, you heard me. Instagram. I've joined the masses with an iPhone
purchase. An iPhone 5, nonetheless, which means I am officially a slave
to Apple. After one week, I still don't understand the hullabaloo, and I
keep asking myself, "WHAT HAVE I DONE?"
... Well, what I have done
is download Instagram. Because I'm a sheeple. So, why don't you come
follow, follow, follow, follow, follow, follow, follow me? Whither shall
you follow? Follow? Follow? Whither shall you follow? Follow me?*
* An inexplicably catchy Sesame Street song. You know, back when things were easier, and all you had to do was, as the first comment says, "sleep, eat, and watch Sesame Street."