This insomnia has got to stop.

Seriously.  This is the second time in a week that I haven’t been able to sleep at all, and now I am writing a paper on music during the Holocaust and instead of focusing on the task at hand I am alternately thinking about sandwiches and a Yiddish version of the House of the Rising Sun. (wouldn’t that be AWESOME?!) Also, I am forced to ogle the waiter’s butt every time he is at the computer in front of me because lack of sleep makes me even less inhibited than usual and there is something about a man in cheap dress pants that has always gotten to me. (I know, I know, I am a classy bitch).

I can’t remember the term for something that is present in all cultures, so that is driving me crazy, and further ruining my ability to focus because remembering what that is will make one of my paragraphs kick ass, but until I remember it is just a disjointed mess (much like this blog post).

There is a table of Americans across the cafe, and I am fighting the urge to hug them.

On the walk down here I was writing a really nice narrative on culture shock and my first days in Lithuania, but I have no idea what the hell I was talking about… only that it involved a Maxima that I am pretty sure I created entirely in my head.  Maybe not, though, the search for the fictional Maxima where I made my first Lithuanian purchases continues unabated, even though I am pretty sure that I made it up and that it is some mental composite of the one on Gedimino pr.

Not sleeping also heightens my sense of smell, and the pasta that the people are eating at the table next to me smells like unwashed people and it’s making me want to vomit.

Iki!

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