WAHHHHHm-bulance

I know that I spend approximately 28% of all conversations and offsides talking about how awful and sticky children are (or, as the Swedes so fondly refer to them, barn), but I realized today that I am oftentimes just a taller, more verbally competent (though probably not physically competent. HEY THERE COORDINATION/MOTOR SKILLS) toddler. I take solace in coloring (many of my rock-bottom moments have ended in me sitting on my bedroom floor surrounded by a giant box of Crayolas and a coloring book), I would choose a grilled cheese sandwich over most things in life, and, without proper nutrition and sleep, I am miserable, insufferable crank who is no better than that wailing kid on the tram/in the restaurant/in the grocery store who was woken up from her nap early and, goshdarnit, just wants a little jar of mushy peaches or peas or whatever babies eat.

I spent last night in Schipol airport, and at about 6 AM, after no sleep, the waterworks began:

6 AM: Cried because I was sad.
6:10 AM: Fell asleep on the floor.
8:30 AM: Woken up by a security guard
8:40 AM: Cried because I was tired, iPod almost dead
8:45 AM: Relocated to a chair
11:07 AM: Cried because I was never going to get to sleep/general hopelessness
11:10 AM: Cried because WHY IS TIME MOVING SO SLOWLY
11:15 AM: Cried because my phone wouldn't work and I was going to be stuck in Schipol Airport until the end of times/2012/12  hours
11:30 AM: Realized feeling of cruminess could be related to hunger. Ate saltines.
11:35 AM: Went to bathroom to fill up water bottle. Cried because my hair was greasy and my sweater was wrinkled.
11:36 AM: Cried because I look like awful when I cry. Nickname my eyes "Puff the Magic Dragons" because they are impossibly puffy and look like they are on fire (dragons breathe fire, get it?).
11:40 AM: Pulled it together, found printing station in Schipol Sheraton.
12:00 PM: Cried because printing cost 10 euros and I'm never going to find a job when I get back from abroad and What am I going to do with my life? Do I have direction? Where am I going to live? Who am I going to be? Cried because of irrelevant panic attack about the uncertainty of the future.
12:30 PM: Closed my eyes for two seconds on a couch in the Sheraton and was yelled at for "sleeping." Cried because sleeping is  illegal in Schipol,  apparently.
1:00 PM: Cried because I saw a bunch of dogs and they were so cute.
1:03 PM: Cried because I was crying and I hate crying.
1:05 PM: Went to bathroom to cry.
1:06 PM: Cried because I was crying in a bathroom.
1:10 PM: Cried because my eye makeup was all messed up again and yelled  at myself to stop crying.
1:11 PM: Cried because I couldn't stop crying.
1:15 PM: Cried because I didn't have a proper place to cry.
1:17 PM: Cried because I didn't know why I was crying anymore
1:19 PM: SO TIRED DEATH IS NEAR PLEASE LET ME SLEEP
1:20-2:00 PM: Gave up on trying to understand why I was crying and just  cried.

At 2:00 PM, I headed into Amsterdam to meet up with a friend from Gothenburg, at which point the crying ceased (but not before a good cry around 2:07  PM because I had run out of tissues and at 2:08 PM because I was crying on a train). It definitely did the soul good to have a light chat with a friend over fika, and after a Diet Coke and a falafel with what should be considered too many toppings/condiments but actually wasn't because can you really have enough jalapenos and tahini sauce, my inner whiny child is now sitting, satiated, in the Amsterdam Public Library, watching Gilmore Girls and reading The Frenemy. The point of all of this is that, in approximately 16 hours (sleepover in Dusseldorf airport!), I will be back in Gothenburg, where I will drink wine and listen to Taylor Swift and take hot showers until I have effectively rid myself of all instability/sleepiness, and then will finally get around to blogging about the past month. Until then, I am going to keep potential fits at bay with excessive amounts of caffeine because I have never met a problem* that coffee can't fix.

*The least of which is that I have an entire Saturday night to spend in Amsterdam and I'm in the library.