I did a random word generator that gave me the words "privacy" and "heat"...

It's hot in here. I knew it was before I realized, but then I still did. You realize a lot when you lock yourself in the bathroom. Like I never paused to consider how medical the lighting in here felt. We'll have to get something to soften that out.

I'm not worried, our door broke like this before. I just have to wait for one of my roommates to come home and open it from the outside. I'm just annoyed because I left my phone in my room. But this is as good a time as any to dig into my roommates' bathroom junk. We don't have any shelves besides the one that's falling over, so all our junk is just thrown together in the cabinet under the sink. I see the usual suspects (razors, my toothbrush, more razors, Randy's contact solution, more razors - I think Randy bought them in bulk, he's super hairy from what I can see), but I'm looking for the orange gleam of a pill bottle. Carter's emergency underwear is still back here. He pooped his pants once in college at an orchestra concert and now he has a pair hidden in every room.

They smell normal, though.

Just kidding, I didn't smell them. Or at least I would never admit to it.

Fine, I smelled them. And wore them like a hat, it was funny. Don't tell Carter.

Finally, Benji's Adderall. It's weird that he keeps it here. I feel like if I had ADHD, I would keep it right next to my bed to make sure I remembered to take it first thing in the morning, but I guess I don't really get to have an opinion on that, so never mind.

I wouldn't have taken two of his Adderall if I had my phone on me, but I would have taken the first one regardless. How long does it take to hit? Is it like weed? I did Adderall once in college to stay up late studying for a chem final, but then I lost track of time and studied through my test time. Sort of like "The Gift of the Magi", except not at all. I'm trying really hard to remember when it hit then. I miss college, it was a lot easier to make friends in college. I hope I'm old enough one day to have more to talk about than college.

I should start a timer. 

Wait, I never take my watch off. I took it off last week to have sex, but then I put it on right after. Okay, I wasn't having sex. I accidentally burned my arm in the oven making a cookie for myself while my roommates were out at a party, and I took my watch off to soak my arm in cold water. My watch isn't waterproof and I cried for 30 minutes, but I put it back on after. But where is it now?

Focus.

I should just try and break down the door. Should I just try and break down the door? If I broke the door down, I could go to my phone. I have to break the door down. I'll take two steps back, as much of a runway as I can fabricate. I have to channel my inner Miss Piggy, "Hi-YA!" Just run. Take the two steps and kick the door down. Or punch it? I wish I could Google this.

Maybe just "check" the door like hockey players do to each other. 1, 2, 3, RUN! THUD.

Okay ouch.

"Is something wrong?!"

"Carter?"

"Martin?"

"Have you been home this whole time?"

"I've been home all day. Are you okay?"

"Can you open the door? I'm locked in."

"Oh, shit yeah, it's sticking again?"

My hero.

"Thank you so much, man."

"Wait, are you wearing my underwear on your head?"

Shit.

I can't not blog about my train ride yesterday before I go to bed

It was awful. Amtrak is dead to me (until I go home in a few months).

Train at 1:30.

I wake up at 11am (don't judge I was home for Christmas): "TRAIN DELAYED DUE TO MANDATORY CREW REST PERIOD". Okay no big deal we live 10 mins from the station and my dad's day is clear.

Train set to arrive, 4pm. My sister and I get there at 3:45 (thanks dad!). We see the train about 100 yds away we think (we actually landed on 150, 100 felt to small but it's what I've been saying anyways). Dead. Stopped. It's under 30 degrees (F), it's freezing literally. 4, 4:15. 4:30, 4:45, 5:00 all these times pass. Regina (sister) calls Amtrak, because the app won't update with any info beyond the 4pm estimated time of arrival, even though that's well in the rearview. We call our dad to come let us sit in his car in the parking lot. Some stranger joins us (by invite). The train comes one minute after he arrives.

We're on the train and the outlets don't work on our side, so I plug my phone in at the front of the car (only 4 rows ahead of us, right by these two ladies that wouldn't stop talking about the train and narrating everything happening around them. Regina called them the "two comedians". I live-texted our other sister about them. I sent this, an excerpt of their dialogue:

"Please god I hope I don't get the flu. I've been a good girl. I've been mostly behaved on the train."

"You've been very behaved on the train"

"Well we did scare all those people off earlier... [a minute passes] may need to break open the bar [another minute passes] oh southwest is up to 28 hundred flights canceled"

One of them had those kinds of hair extensions that is tinsel. She said she and her partner (pretty sure a boyfriend or husband, but I missed that detail) do couples massages every New Year's Eve. "Usually it makes me feel pretty loosey goosey, you know? And I like that feeling, you know?" She said.

So anyways they were on the same train as us.).

We sat next to two people meeting for the first time (a teacher of sorts and an off-broadway prop designer) who were having such a boring conversation, but the teacher either had a really old iPod touch or like the original iPhone, it was so tiny, which was neat.

A baby cried, I had one bite of and then threw out the worst sandwich of my life from the café car (which the "two comedians" called the bar car).

Our original arrival to Penn Station estimated at 5:30, (before the first delays of the day). Actual arrival time around 10:30, so that sucked, but I lived to tell the tale and can exploit the story now in this post while I fight the good fight (the one against Amtrak Customer Relations team until they give me a free ride voucher or something).

-Henry

Pig

                me and Pig, taken by Michael

It's time I come clean with you all. I am obsessed with a small adorable 2-3 inch stuffed animal pig named Pig, and I have been for years (photos of everything I talk about at the end).

Pig (who uses any and all pronouns given it is an inanimate object) came into my life on August 31, 2020, that's right she's a Virgo. I was in the Binghamton, NY Wegman's (fine, the Johnson City Wegman's if we're really splitting hairs) grabbing a few quick things. Classes started the next day for my final semester of college (yes I finished in 3.5 years whatever guys it's fine), and my school friend Charlie asked me to get her a notebook (now that school is over we are still friends, don't worry). I passed by the stuffed animal display on my way to the notebook and I kid you not did a double take. Seriously, I'm not kidding, love at first sight. I'm sick.

I texted "Found a notebook xx"

Charlie texted "send pic!" (she's an autocaps off sorta guy)

I texted "This pic is unrelated but I accidentally fell in love with this pig stuffed animal" with an accompanying photo of Pig, no notebook in sight.

It's at this point that I should mention that Pig from Ganz's "Tossimals" line of small, bean-bag-sized stuffed animals. You'll remember Ganz as the people behind Webkinz, the 2008ish-12ish craze.

I haven't really been this down bad for a stuffed animal since my first Webkinz, Red Eyes, the red-eyed tree frog. I would hold his hand in mine, his four little fingers woven between my own. I always have been very soothed and comforted by a soft touch or texture. I love cotton and cotton blends, but I can't stand velvet, it's too smooth, go figure. I remember when Red Eyes eventually got a hole in his fabric (worn down after years of me holding it) and I probably cried, definitely freaked out, and 100% ripped him up in a fit of rage instead of just finding a needle and thread to fix it. As a kid, I would bottle up all my feelings and then once in a while destroy something I loved as a means of expressing my anger. Despite my best efforts, I can never forget the day I dropped my iPod nano and it cracked a little bit, and then the screen just wasn't 100% responding to my touch, and I got so mad at myself for breaking the iPod that I slowly pressed the screen really hard against the hard wooden corner of my bed frame until it was completely inoperable.

I'm happy to report I don't rage quite as hard anymore (yes I do, I almost really messed up my teeth last year, let's not go there though please).

But anyways, I took Pig home and over the next few months I realized its tail, when held in my finger crotch, gave the same soft-fabric comfort as Red Eyes's hands. I knew from Red Eyes, though, the longer I held Pig, the more likely it would wear the fabric down to the point of tearing. I wouldn't couldn't didn't bear to accept that reality, so months later, when I was visiting my friends in Binghamton (because I didn't live there anymore because I already graduated college but they were taking the full 4 years not just 3.5 so I decided to visit them) I made a pitstop at that Wegman's and bought 3 more pig stuffed animals so that when it was time for Pig to retire (whenever I decided it was too delicate), another pig could step in to take its place. I'm glad I did because last Christmas I left Pig at home when I went back to Brooklyn, but Pig 2 was waiting there for me! Pig 2 goes by "Pig" but I know which one is which (truth be told I purposefully lost Pig OG in the mess that is my closet so I'm not tempted to wear it down any more.

(By the way, just to interject, I know this is all weird. My family and friends all know all of this and think it's weird).

Summer 2021, I got a disposable camera to bring to the lake. My family goes to Garnet Lake, NY every 4th of July week; it's the most perfect place in the world (am I using ; right?) I decided I would fill those 26 shots or so with glamor shots of Pig, which I've since printed and compiled in a photo album, which I can't seem to find, which would actually suck way worse if I didn't have scans of all the images. There's some silly ones (Pig doing cocaine, Pig in a pile of money) and some serious ones (Pig in hydrangeas, literally shockingly beautiful). They're all blurry because the film was definitely expired, but beggars can't be choosers.

I've emailed the Ganz corporation to try and buy a bulk order, and I haven't given up hope at one day having a little pig farm, but this is how that exchange went (if I forgot to block any sensitive information please just promise you won't use it!)

So that's a tough pill to swallow.

That's pretty much the end of this story... or is it just the beginning? Pig has been with me now to Spain, Los Angeles, end of list, so she's really a world traveler. I'm so excited to see where Pig and I go, both together and separately, in the new year, and when in life (if ever) I give up my reliance on soft inanimates for comfort that should ultimately stem from a positive self-view.

___________________________________________________________

PHOTOS: 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Henry Sinnott (@hanklet_)

my Instagram post dedicated to Pig on his first birthday. Scroll through to see Pigs 2-4, Pig's birth chart, and the text conversation that started it all

Red Eyes, my first love (jk wayyyy not my first I had a snake stuffed animal as a baby named "Snakey" that my parents eventually hid from me and yelled at my cousin when he told me where it was hidden)

iPod nano in question

Weak

I've always been weak. If you're a boy and you're 8 you're not weak you're just sensitive. If you're a boy and you're 8 you're not weak you just do theatre. If you're a boy and you're 8 you're not weak you're just a 23-year-old waiting to come out of his shell.

I watched Glass Onion this week, and I loved it!

My train back to the city is delayed today, but in the way that they told me about the delay hours ahead and the station is close to my house so I just have to chill at home a little longer than initially anticipated. Nice. I got the humidifier I want for Christmas but now I have to take it on the train. That's not gonna be fun, but I just finished packing it away in two tote bags (one upside down on top inside one normal one on bottom) so hopefully.

I didn't realize trains could just be delayed, which is very naive of me (for the record, I know how to do the i with the ï on my keyboard, I just had an existential crisis about how it would be perceived to actually use that ï without letting everybody know that I know it's a little... you know... to just use the ï like that). I sorta thought like okay the wheels of a train are so secure in the track that even if snow or ice built up it would sorta just get forced out in the course of normal train business. And it's not like trains can get caught in a traffic jam, or at least it shouldn't be like that.

My dad is making a sandwich in the other room. Sort of annoying because I was about to do that.

The School Bus

Bucky pulled to 317 Vistaterra Blvd in sunny San Diego, (just kidding it's a cold non-descript suburb in Akron). There were already 13 kids on the bus. Two kindergarteners, a 1st grader, four 2nd graders, no 3rd graders (yet), and three 4th graders with one 5th-grader older sibling each. This was Destiny Park's house. She was the first 3rd grader of the day, and she liked having the whole 3rd-grade section of the bus to herself for a few stops. Sometimes she would use the time to finish her homework. Other times she would read, but more than anything she would gaze. Ponder, gaze, and think. Isn't that what buses are for?

Well anyways, Bucky opened the bus's door in front of the far end of Destiny's driveway (or actually her parent's driveway, Destiny doesn't actually help with the mortgage payments, has she been saying she does?) and waited.

And waited.

One of the 4th graders chimed up. "Why aren't we moving?" It was the boy who was way too eager during bus safety day about pulling the emergency brake if the bus driver passed out or died. He was always looking for an excuse to pull it.

"We're waiting for Destiny."

"But I have to go bathroom," it was one of the kindergarteners. They were always pulling this shit.

So Bucky waited. Cars were getting mad.

Honk! Honk! Wait. Wait.

A car passed on the left, but almost hit another car (but didn't... phew.).

"This is some sick power trip buddy?!" a car screamed. Cars get so angry sometimes. It's best not to take their words to heart.

Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait! Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. 

School has started. A few cars have passed. The kindergarteners have both peed themselves. The 4th graders have convinced the 1st graders to give them his lunch. The 1st grader has cried. The 1st grader has moved back one row to talk to the 2nd graders. The 1st grader has gotten yelled at for changing seats by the 5th graders. The 1st grader has thrown up. The 1st grader has fallen asleep. Bucky hasn't moved.

"Why can't we go?" the bravest 4th grader finally walked to the front of the bus.

"We're waiting for Destiny."

"I don't think she's coming to school today, and I have a spelling test," the 4th grader.

"It's okay. We'll wait."

And they did.

Waited. Rain fell and they did. 

Wait. 

What Next...

It's one of those moments. I woke up, I did more work than I expected to do. I made a really nice 2 pm breakfast (bacon, egg, and cheese, sandwich, but I made all of it). I read every article about Keke Palmer hosting SNL last night. It's 3:41 pm and I have nothing to do until 8 when Real Housewives of Potomac starts. I feel good, I feel productive, but fuck! What do I do now?

I'll admit, I don't want to write. It must be awkward for you the reader to hear this. It must feel discouraging to be a short ways into a blog post and hear that its author's heart isn't all there. For that, I apologize, but not genuinely, as that would require a change in behavior.

I don't need to catch up on any TV shows, besides the Real Housewives of Potomac at 8.

I got a little high, but I should have prepared an activity first. Getting high bored tends to amplify the empty sound.

I guess I can work on the crossword. Right? Maybe I'll take my puzzle apart. Last week I did this puzzle. Isn't it beautiful?

It's weird, this is the first Christmas szn that I don't have a specific reason to be actively excited (and so sorry if this is wildly offensive to my parents). I'll go home for 4 days and get some sweet presents (my love language is "gifts" so it's not shallow when I talk about presents), but I probably won't take more than a day off work, and as much as I enjoy spending time with them I just saw the fam for a week in November. And before that a week in October. Is this what I'm supposed to be talking about in therapy? I've done now a hefty handful of therapies and I think I tricked him into thinking I'm fine because he threw out just doing once a month last time.

Ugh whatever, I'll probably just masturbate 14 times and then order something expensive and wreckless online, like shelves.

I've been writing a lot just for me for fun, so I'm sorry if this post doesn't have the normal verve that you, the readers, have come to know and expect of me. Please feel free to tell me what you don't like about me in the comments below. Thank you for clinging onto the edge of the cliff that is this blog post for this long, but I think it's time I stomp on your fingertips.