|| The Sound Faction (dot com) ||

I hate plans. Revision: I hate social plans. A plan to get up and keep a schedule, keep my technical life in somewhat of a balance is great (I would keel over and cease to exist without my iTouch calendar); but I love calling up family or friends spur of the moment and saying “You, me… activity… now.” and having them go along with it. I cherish that I can do that and not get reamed by my friends for “last minute crap”. However, because I live minute-to-minute (socially speaking), my days can get rather hectic and are frequently interlaced with misadventures and random spur-of-the-moment ideas. I love it. I thrive that way. Today is a perfect example of a balance between my ridiculous “up for anything” social attitude interlaced with “gotta get crap done” schedule. However, to properly convey it all to you, we have to start at 10:30 last night.

10:30pm: My good friend Katie and I had plans to “grab a quick coffee and chat” after she got out of work at 11. She got out a bit early and came over to my apartment to change out of her work clothes before our coffee break.

11:00pm: Katie is changed and we hit up Tim Horton’s for iced coffees before heading to Broadway Park, since the Maine heat-wave hasn’t broken yet and my non-air conditioned apartment is hotter than hell. We are in the park briefly before my step-sister calls and informs me that she has just gotten out of work at WalMart and is coming to hang out with us.

11:10pm: Step-sister shows up at the park with what seems to be the entire under 30 staff of WalMart.

12:00am: After hanging out in the park and chatting with everyone, calling in our friend Earl for non WalMart employee reinforcements, I hear: “Caity! Want to go swimming?” Since the heat wave has been on full-blast for a week, and I had desperately wanted to go swimming earlier that day I said yes. Katie said yes. Earl said yes, and we were on our way to my apartment to grab a change of clothes before heading off for Chemo Pond in Eddington.

12:30am: After following the convoy of vehicles out to Chemo Pond we realize that the leader of the pack actually had no idea that the public-access to the beach was closed at night, but with swimming on the brain, I tell them that I can lead them to Branch Lake, which would only be another half hour until we were there. Agreement, and we head off for Holden.

1:00am: Wrong turn. Crap.

1:15am: We find our way to Branch Lake, stumbling through the pitch black forest to a tiny beach where we all jump in the water and have a blast. Earl and I dare-deviled it and swam through the dark to a giant rock, climbed up and prayed for deep water as we launched ourselves off the end of it. Silly games were played, and beers may or may not have been consumed.

3:30am: Before anyone knows it, it’s three-thirty in the morning and we are shriveled up like prunes in the water and freezing, so the long, wet, voyage home begins as we pray that one of the vehicles in the convoy had enough gas in the reserve tank to get us out of the middle of the forest and back to a gas station.

4:30am: After dropping off Earl at his apartment, Katie and I make our way back to my apartment and bid good-night. Showers and I collapse into bed, dreading my alarm set to wake me up.

6:00am: blaring alarm jolts me awake from a hilarious dream about the band that Katie and I are destined to have: “Vile Plantation” a key-tar/shaker new-wave-house-ghetto-tech cover band who were headlining the “Emo as Fuck” spring tour with My Chemical Romance, HIM, Placebo and Suburban Legends as our opening bands. Stumble out of bed, get dressed, do hair/makeup and grab an apple on the way out the door.

7:00am: After a quick half hour drive, I meet up with a young couple, a potential client meeting in hopes to book myself to photograph their wedding. We talk shop, they look at my portfolios, and I defend my prices, assuring them that I am in no way trying to rip them off. They give me the standard “we’re going to shop around, and we’ll be in touch” and head off.

9:00am: I head to Java Joe’s in downtown Bangor for a coffee and to take advantage of the WiFi situation, all the while hoping very much not to get stabbed. (Google it.) Reply to a dozen e-mails and get a bit of writing done for my book.

12:00pm: Call from Katie who wants me to come out for coffee with her and Carly. (Note: coffee plays a strong role in our friendship/my life, if you haven’t figured that out.) She comes to my apartment to drop off her car and things, and we hop in my car and drive to Orono to see Carly.

1:00pm: Katie and I depart from Orono and head to Newburgh to my mother’s house so I get some painting done for a potential client. While I paint, Katie and I watch Punk Rock Holocaust and laugh hilariously.

4:00pm: We depart the ‘burg and head back to Bangor, Katie gets her car and I collapse exhaustedly into my bed, content for a nap.

4:05pm: Cell phone alarm reminds me of an appointment at 6, and I instantly regret laying down, so I get back up and work on my book a bit more.

6:00pm: I drive to Brewer for my appointment with Gabi and the No on 1 civil rights political campaign I volunteer with.

7:00pm: An hour with Gabi has four hours worth of material crammed into my brain and I leave the office a little dazed, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to sleep.

7:10pm: Back at the apartment, I realize to my horror that I left all of my work to be done tonight at my mother’s house in Newburgh, so I jump back in the car and drive to the ‘burg, resigning myself to working from there for the night.

11:30pm: I finish a major chunk of my work and realize that it’s eleven-thirty, so I grab a cup of coffee and down it and an iced tea before getting back to work. (And by “work” I mean “getting distracted by the Google logo and going on a two-hour research binge about the designer, the typeface, and a subsequent string of thoughts that led to me now being able to perfectly convert Euro to American dollars in my head.)

1:45pm: “Work” is done, and I contemplate staying at my mother’s house for the night, but decide against it, because I love my dang bed too much, so I gather my things and head for the door.

1:46pm: Open the door to find that a ginormous moth is clinging to the screen door, and no amount of flicking the screen from the other side will cause it to go away, and in fact only serves to anger it. (Note: I hate moths more than any other form of bug sans spiders which are on a level playing field with moths.) I am officially held captive in my mother’s house by the moth.

1:55pm: I decide to make a break for it and throw the screen door open and run. It proves to be a horrible idea as the jolting of the door upset the insect and Mothra bitchslapped me in the face. My terrified pansy-shrieking woke everyone up. (Sorry mom.)

2:00pm: I stop shaking only to realize I locked my damn keys in the house which is once again being guarded by the moth-like demon spawn from hell. I crack into the realtors key-box on the door and use the spare key to let myself in, all the while keeping a horrified and steadfast vigil on Mothra who clings to the screen door a mere 8 inches from my head. I run inside and grab my keys. I am not amused as I once again run past the damned insect and to my car.

3:00am: I finally get back home, grab a shower and collapse back into bed, but by this time I have gotten my third (or fifth) wind and have become so tired that I am no longer tired. Hoping to exhaust myself I grab my computer and start to write the chronicles of my day, only to come to a realization…

This "ridiculous plan/minimal sleep/business/political/work/research tangent/omfg-moth-run-away” crap is… a horrifyingly typical day in the life of Caity.

4:58am: Turning off the laptop and going the f*ck to bed.