Sleepless in Raleigh

After a very brief stop in West Virginia (and contrary to its welcome sign, it was neither "Wild" nor "Wonderful!"), we are back in North Carolina. And oh, what a wild and crazy weekend it has been. Not.

Friday night we were in Pilot Mountain, North Carolina, the town where the Andy Griffith show is set. For serious. There was an Aunt Bea's Diner and everything. This should give you an idea of just how happening it was. Picture the Andy Griffith show plus fast food and empty buildings, minus the charm. Now, I am a firm believer in "when the going gets tough, the tough go to the movies," and thankfully a lot of my fellow tour-mates are of a similar mind. There is no movie theatre in Pilot Mountain (obvi), so we headed to nearby Mount Aerie, bustling metropolis that it is.

Obviously, I went to see Highschool Musical 3. As any Zac Efron fan over the age of 8 expects, I was getting a lot of shit from the gang in the van. The actor I'll call Brom said, from the row behind me where he was conducting a snuggle party, "I'm sorry, but I just have to judge you a little."

Frankly, I am sick and tired of people judging my delight in all Zac Efron endeavors, particularly those that involve song and dance!
I'll be honest here, kids. Tour is starting to take a toll on me. I'm getting sick of the crappy hotels and the crappy food and the crappy (usually nonexistent) treadmills and the bizarre social construct that is tour and I miss dance parties and cute boys in sweaters and gossipping with my girls and wearing impossibly high-heels. I needed to escape.

I turned to Brom, and I said, "Don't you judge me. I like Highschool Musical for the same reason you like scifi. It's a simplified moral universe with good and evil clearly delineated, with good reigning triumphant. That's why scifi is popular. Westerns, too. Most movies, in fact - people have always taken comfort in escaping to a place where things arent so complicated. And if I want to believe for two hours that dancing can solve all your problems, that music can bring people together, and that love means holding hands in a treehouse, that's my perogative."
Anyway, he stopped judging. Usually reminding scifi nerds of their dorkiness has that effect.

As I was watching the end of the movie, as everyone skipped around in their graduation gowns singing, "I just want the rest of my life to feel as good as my HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL," I couldn't help but think "yeah - me too." And I don't mean my actual high school musical (not that Once Upon a Mattress wasn't a slammin good time, because it was), but the movies. Why does life have to be so complicated? And my life's not even that bad! It would just be so much better if everyone fell instantly in love at first sight, no major problems ensued (minus jockeying for the lead in a musical), there was lots of hand holding, and people danced and sang when they were happy.

It's not that things are particularly awful. They're not. Today was even a nice day. I had a pumpkin muffin at breakfast (and I love me some pumpkin muffins), and got to spend the whole day at the mall with Ichabod and the Frog. It was a lovely mall, too, with outdoor courtyards, and fake ponds, and lots of shoes who were practically begging me to take them home. (Seriously. Shoes are like puppies. I can hear them calling me.) And yet, there aren't enough Strawberry Mangoritas in all the Chilis in North Carolina to take away this general feeling of tour ennui. (keep in mind - this is just me complaining about my social life. I love the show. LOVES IT. And I wouldn't trade being able to do a show five times a week for anything. This is just me whining. And I'm allowed to whine, because it's my blog. but take it with a grain of salt.) There are even some truly wonderful moments of fun fun fun, but a big part of me just misses my life. I mean this is my life too, obviously, but in a weird way...it's not.

This kind of vague dissatisfaction has resulted in insomnia, which leaves me here, sleepless in Raleigh, where I have spent perhaps the most pathetic night of my 22 years, sitting in sweatpants in a Sleep Inn by the side of the interstate, trolling match.com and craigslist.com for imaginary boyfriends/apartments that I could have in my fabulous life in an alternate universe. I know, I know. Seriously - I am like in need of a lame intervention to save me from myself.