Oh how things have changed

My mood has gotten much better. Sometimes all it takes is a real good cry. It’s like when you’re hungover as hell—all you need to do is throw up and everything feels improved.

‘Course, it helps when your job decides to send you on a last-minute business trip…to England! Yep, that’s what I’m doing today. Flying out to the U.K. tonight, then coming back to Chicago on Friday. I literally found this out only a few days ago. But hey, I’m not complaining. In fact, when you consider that England is my dream destination, and that I’ve been dreaming of it since high school, this turns out to be a very happy situation indeed.

And in light of all this, one thing I’ve had to start researching is frequent flyer/miles rewards programs. This will be the third time I’m flying American Airlines this year, and the travel agent who booked me on this Manchester flight highly recommended I enroll in AAdvantage. Which I did. But it sucks because they won’t apply mileage credit for flights flown when not enrolled at the time. So those trips to Costa Rica and Miami I took earlier this year? Ineligible.

But you see…the reason why I absolutely detest these programs and why I don’t rush to join them is because they’ve just been so unreliable and unhelpful to me! Before 2010 I think I had only flown somewhere about twice in my whole life. When I studied abroad in Costa Rica two years ago, I took US Airways. I signed up for their Dividend Miles program, and now my balance of 4,694 miles is due to expire in a few days because of inactivity. So those are going to waste. Last year my family and I flew Delta Airlines to go to the Philippines. When flying home, the flight attendant handed me an enrollment form for their SkyMiles program. My mom encouraged it, and since I knew she’d gotten free tickets before just for her two previous trips to the Philippines (flying there is a shit ton of miles), I signed up. But lo and behold, they never credited my flight to the Philippines and back, and my balance there right now is only a measly 500 miles just for signing up.

Just thinking about these stupid things is making me annoyed again. OK, must stop and continue packing.

Anybody care to decipher this?

I had the most peculiar dream this morning. I’m pretty sure that it was specifically this morning, as I remember waking up initially at around 9, and then drifting off, experiencing this dream, and waking up at intervals until my eyes finally stayed open at 10:30. Anyway, from what I can remember, the dream begins when I jump into this outdoor pool. The pool is located in the middle of nowhere: cloudy skies, occasional power lines, and endless fields of grass. And in this pool with me are Miley Stewart and her brother, Jackson, from Hannah Montana (why they appeared in this dream is beyond me, since I stopped watching that show a long time ago and absolutely detest anything to do with Miley Cyrus). We swim around for a while, then decide to rinse off. Jackson gets out of the pool first and goes into their house, which happens to be a vast mansion.

I go to follow him, but some servants come running out of the house to inform me that strangers were not allowed to enter. Of course, I am furious at this, and start rattling off about how Billy Ray knew perfectly well who I was and surely he would not mind me coming inside just to shower. Eventually I see a couple of bathrooms in the corner of the house opening up to me, so in I go. There I notice that the bathroom I am showering in is completely closed off from the rest of the house; I am still considered an outsider. Miley is in this bathroom with me, and I try and get her to fix the situation but then mayhem ensues and all of a sudden I find myself in a moving, driving van.

Sitting right next to me in this van is Craig David, although in this dream he looked more like a mix of himself, Tony Parker, and Thierry Henry. Inside, my heart is beating very fast, because of course, this is Craig David I’m sitting next to! However, the Craig David of my dreams is not the famous singer I love in real life; instead, my dream Craig David is just a regular guy. (And if this dream Craig David represents who I think he represents, god I wish my subconscious would stop doing that to me.) So as we ride in the van along some unknown highway, being driven by an equally unknown driver, we converse; me, the meek little commoner, and him, the gorgeous Brit.

Eventually we arrive at our destination, which Craig informs me is the city of London, and the place is absolutely beautiful. It is Christmastime now. The trees are all decorated with snow, and the people are bundled in thick coats and huddling around for warmth. I think to myself, “I’m SO moving to England!”

After our brief tour of the city, we are gathered in some sort of living room, which I think was in the same house I had been trying to enter earlier. In this gathering, I am still the outsider. Lower class. Though it bothers me, I had accepted my status without complaint, because Craig doesn’t seem to care.

Anyway, there seems to be some sort of Christmas party going on. At one point, an Indian father and son are arguing, and the father is criticizing his son for letting his beard grow wild and dirty. So as punishment, the son must shave his beard off. Only this seems to go way too far, and the son, either because this is what his father instructed him to do or because he’s doing it in protest, begins to shave the skin of his chin off as well. It is disgusting, and I quickly turn away, looking for comfort in Craig.

And then…I wake up. Dream ends. Nada más.