Emotional Overload

Today I endured a bombardment of emotion. So much that I ended up shedding a tear or three on two seperate occasions. For the most part I can keep my emotions in check, unless I'm made victim of a surprise attack, which has really only happened three-ish times in my life (all three in the past six months... yesss).

Hey, guys, I know what you're thinking... premenstrual syndrome, right? Not so much. For one thing, I think PMS is just a huge conspiracy theory/hoax/excuse, and another: I am a person who believes in changing your attitude as much as you can when you notice it turns sour for no apparent reason. I believe you can apply the line, "Get over it. Go out with someone else," from Wayne's World to a plethora of life's situations. And for another thing, it's just not even PMS time.

Today I was strongly persuaded to finish a certain section of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince while I was at work. Yeah, a perk of working at Le Bistro is I can read sometimes, but reading this chapter while at work was not so much a good idea. Said chapter got me all misty-eyed, I text Amanda and she said she didn't know how I was controlling my behavior, I replied and said I'd had a lot of practice in the last five months.

Continuing with the chapter, it became even more depressing, and I was sitting next to Richard on the patio, nonchalantly turning away so he wouldn't notice me crying at work. I think (no, I know) the last and only time I cried there was when this broad told me I'd made her the worst cappucino of all time (even though I made it the same as all the others and have had no complaints), and Jeff just had to capitalize on the heckling opportunity. Of course he didn't think I'd start crying because that's very un-Sarah, but it happened.

So Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, more specifically the chapter titled "The Lightning Struck Tower", or chapter 27, or page 596, got me started.

Then I went to the new X-Men movie with Jeff and Caryn. *sigh* Dude, a movie about mutants totally got me all choked up. I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't seen it, but there were two instances when I was seriously crying, and trying once again to conceal my asininity (yes, it's a real word because I said so and I have an advanced degree, which permits me to make up words on occasion). Stupid X-Men and their stupid sexy powers of love and destruction... GAWD!

So then (wait, actually this happened before the movie) Jeff and I went to the Coyote Cantina to have an after-work tottie (I had Coca-Cola) and see my mom, who was hanging out after having endured the wiles of my bitter grandmother in Roswell for four or five days. My mom pretty much immediately starts in on how the medical examiner who performed my brother's autopsy had to talk to my other brother, Josh, about what happened the night before Matt passed away. Josh was very upset, obviously, but managed to hide it from me yesterday and today while my mom was gone.

The mom, however, made it a point to tell me all about it, which in turn upset me. Josh didn't tell me about it because he knew it would upset me, I'm sure. The bar is not the place to discuss these matters, but whatever, it's sometimes the 90s. When we first got the results of the autopsy, my mom came to my bar when I was still working there and told me. Yeah, always a good idea... not. I changed the subject this evening as soon as I could by saying, "Hey guess what? Richard said 'style-life' instead of 'lifestyle' today." "Ha ha ha ha ha..."

You know, a couple of people have tried to talk to me about Matt when I've been drinking, they've been drinking, or both. It's really just not a cool idea, for future reference. I'll talk about it when I want to, but if I'm out, having a Miller Lite, chances are I came out to have fun and not talk about the devastating circumstances surrounding January 6.

The flipping point is that all the sad deaths in the books and movies I read and watch remind me of my brother sometimes. Especially now as we're approaching five months without his physical presence. A lot of people took it upon themselves to ask me what happened to him in the days and weeks afterwards, and I really took offense. First of all, who's business was it, and secondly, why the eff does it matter? What matters is he's gone. Now that we "know" what happened, I think most people probably asked because they just didn't know what to say, and could not fathom why a perfectly healthy 21-year-old would randomly die in his sleep. We don't know why, literally and figuratively. It's a medical anomaly. Pehaps a heart arrhythmia, they say. And by "they", I mean the medical examiners (plural).

Sorry if this ruined anyone's moment, but don't worry, the moment will come back to you. If you've gotten this far in this uber-long blog, take a few things away with you: Sarah is most definitely not a robot, she doesn't want to get philosophical when she drinks (unless it's about Anchorman or the cultural significance of Duck Tales), and she wants you to make sure she didn't spell warrior wrong. Don't you feel better already, great blog warrior reader?