Am I real?

This sounds very profound. But I assure you, it’s not. It’s a story about toilet paper.

I was flying back to Seattle for the first time in about 5 years. Not only did I get to see my parents, but I got to see Roger Waters for the 3^rd time! I was super excited and nothing could damper my mood. That is nothing short of a series of interactions that made me doubt my very existence.

I was on a layover and decided to take this opportunity to run to the restroom.

Why is it called a restroom? I don’t rest in there. I pee in there. I understand bathroom – when there’s a bathtub in the room. But, there wasn’t a bathtub in the airport, so I’m forced to call it a restroom. I think we should rethink the use of this word.

Anyway, I went into a stall to “rest.” I almost always check for toilet paper. Guys – it’s important that a girl does this, because the omission of the “check for toilet paper” step can result in being stranded in a restroom stall for an undetermined amount of time…or spending the rest of the day in pee pants.

I omitted this step. There was no toilet paper.

Luckily, there was a woman in the stall next to me!

Me: There’s no toilet paper in here. Can you pass some over?

Lady: …

Me: Toilet paper?

Lady: …

Me: I know you can hear me!

Lady: Flushes toilet and walks out

It was a good thing that I had Kleenex in my purse. Once I flushed the toilet I walked out and headed to the sink. I was still trying to wrap my head around what had just happened. There were so many questions: She could hear me right? I could hear her. She had to have heard me. Did I offend her? There’s no way I could have offended her. I just asked her for toilet paper. What kind of person refuses toilet paper to another human being?

Another lady walked in the restroom and straight to my stall. I’d just like to point out how weird this is in an empty restroom. In my mind it’s almost as off-putting for a woman to walk to a stall with a swinging door and flushing toilet (when other options are available) as a man choosing to use a urinal right next to another man. I don’t like when a woman chooses to use the stall next to me in an empty restroom so the urinal scenario seams absolutely intrusive.

I didn’t want to see this woman go through the same turmoil I just had gone through. So I tried to warn her.

Me: There’s no toilet paper in that stall.

Lady 2: Walks into stall

Me: There’s no toilet paper in that stall!

Lady 2: Closes door

Me: Can anybody hear me? In a slightly sad voice

Me: No? Ok.

At this point I felt invisible. It’s such a uniquely weird experience to be in a room with other people that refuse to recognize your existence. I was almost expecting to walk out of the bathroom and have somebody run right into me, and then continue walking wondering why his stride was broken because clearly nothing was in his path. This did not happen. But I did slink away to my gate to wait for my plane. Two days later I was watching Roger Waters perform The Wall and was as happy as the happiest of clams. See what I did there, I made the end happy. I like to end stories on a high note

I took a stand…and fell down the stairs

While in college I had several friends involved in the all powerful club that decided what bands were coming to campus. I decided to join so I could go to the concerts for free and vote on who we asked to perform. In order to be a “real member” and earn the respect of the board, you had to attend 3 consecutive meetings (high threshold, right). I went to all the meetings (post the point I decided to buckle down and become a board certified member). I had to have attended at least 6.

It was at this last (we’ll say 6^th) meeting that we had an important vote. We were all asked to leave the room to form a line. Like cattle we were herded into the hallway so that we could be checked for certification as we filed back into the room one by one. I made my way to the front and gave my full name.

Board Certification Checker: You’re not a full time member

Me: I’ve been to more than the past 3 meetings

Board Certification Checker: You’re not on our list

Me: Maybe you haven’t updated your list

Board Certification Checker: Are you sure you signed into the meetings

Me: Every time

Board Certification Checker: I don’t know what to tell you

Me: So I don’t get to vote? Even though I’ve attended the meetings and helped out at several concerts.

Board Certification Checker: Sorry.

Me: I’ll stay for this meeting, but I’m quitting this club. This is BS! (To my friends, as I walked past the board certification checker with a scowl on my face)

As everyone filled out their ballots, I sat ballot-less with an unblinking glare directed at the board. I was unhappy. I wanted them to know I was unhappy, and it was their fault. I didn’t know if I should feel sad and invisible/ignored/left out or just angry.

Once my friends were able to complete their voting, we took off to walk home…in the rain. You can’t make this stuff up. I got to the door to exit the building and was prepared to make a dramatic exit. They would rue the day they messed with me! First step out the door and I slipped.

This wasn’t just a run of the mill slip, it was one of those epic feet flying in the air and butt landing square on the ground slips. But wait! There’s more. This slip occurred on stairs. And the entire board was surrounding me as if they knew this would happen and they needed front row seats to further humiliate me.

I landed on my hand, and my hand landed on my jacket. Sounds like it would provide some padding right? Wrong. There was a metal snap right where my hand hit. Not only did I break the snap and have to walk home covered in filth with a jacket sleeve that was snap-less and blowing in the wind, but it felt like I broke my hand. I can’t be too mad at the rain. Although it did help contribute to the fall, it was able to disguise my shame tears.

Don’t worry though, after several weeks the bruising went away and my hand stopped hurting. Also, I was able to fix the snap with a screw driver. I’m crafty like that.

Alarm Clock = Kleenex Dispenser

I’m not a morning person; I never have been. In fact, I’m so not a morning person that given the opportunity I turn morning into my bedtime. I remember over one winter break while in college, I would be getting ready to turn in for the night (day) as my dad was getting ready to head off for work. It worked out well in that he got to see my bright and shining face (more of a groggy sleep deprived grimace) before heading off to work, and I got to see a living breathing human in my vampire-like existence.

My junior year of college I created a routine that allowed me to be slightly more functional than a newborn mole person:

1. Wake up just in time for class. If I was lucky this allowed a small window for showering.
2. Race out of my apartment to catch the morning shuttle to campus
3. Go to class
4. Walk home
5. Take my much needed nap (I love naps, but I’ve decided it’s more addicting than meth and now try to fight off the need to sleep during the day like the plague…because apparently I’m under attack from the plague)
6. Do homework until my stress level reaches it’s peak
7. Go for the mandatory night run (I felt invincible in college and didn’t think anything bad could come of an 18-22 year old girl running alone in the night, with an iPod to block out any warning signs of an impending attack – that is until the night when an impending attack became clear…but that is a story for another day)
8. Shower
9. Continue doing homework until Forensic Files (I believe this was about 3 am)
10. Watch Forensic Files until I scared myself into believing a serial killer was outside of my living room window. I would then have to build up the nerve to approach the window to shut the blinds. Because clearly if the blinds were closed Mr. Serial Killer would no longer be able to get to me. Or maybe Mr. Serial Killer is like a tyrannosaurus and would no longer be able to sense my presence if he couldn’t see me.
11. Bother my roommate, Amrita, to no end. My favorite was sitting on her back while she tried to read like a good college student and/or poking her face until she sent me away from her room. And once I was banished from human contact (and my feeble attempts at scratching my way through her door failed), I’d slink away.
12. Decide that I should go to bed so I could be a functioning member of society the next day
13. Sleep for 4-5 hours
14. Repeat

This routine didn’t allow for the most balanced lifestyle.

One winter morning I woke up after a series of alarm clock snoozes (another bad habit that’s up there with meth addiction), and noticed an alarming number of Kleenex sheets in my bed. Honestly one would be strange since I’m not in the habit of storing either new or used Kleenex under my pillows, but it looked as if I was in the eye of a Kleenex storm.

I decided that rather than delving too deep into an analysis of what occurred the night before I should just throw them away and get to class (again, I left very little time to prepare in the mornings).

The next morning, the same thing happened – more Kleenex and no explanation. I told myself that I probably had just forgotten to throw the mysterious Kleenex away the previous night…and I was not going crazy! This feeble attempt at self-preservation was a temporary band-aid.

A few days passed, so the strange tissue paper phenomenon slipped my mind. But, behold! I woke up to a new event! It was extremely rare for me to turn my laptop off at night, but when I awoke my laptop was not only off but it was closed. Clearly I was having night terrors that were spilling over into my day. Night Cristy was sabotaging Day Cristy’s life. Or, there was a simpler explanation that I was just unable to grasp in the sleep deprived state of my blurred morning rush.

Everything fell into place one momentous morning. My alarm clock was going off repeatedly, and I was snoozing it repeatedly. Something was different about this morning though. I was actually self aware at this early hour. So when I realized I was in fact in my room, standing, and the alarm clock was going off, and I was doing something – making some attempt to silence the noise, but the noise was continuing…I opened my eyes and began to take in my environment.

I was standing in the middle of my bedroom with a fist full of Kleenex and Kleenex was strewn about my feet and bed. Again, my computer was turned off and closed. I was so desperate to turn off my alarm clock, so in need of that extra 5 minutes of sleep that I blindly pushed buttons and gathered anything in my path. That’s a natural reaction to an alarm right? Collecting soft facial tissue to comfort my exhausted and confused body. I think so.