Insomnia, Nostalgia and My Four Ounce Pour

So I haven't been sleeping well. Initially this was because of my cold. Every night I would spend forty-five minutes minimum coughing before falling asleep. Thankfully the phantom mucus which had a stanglehold on my lungs has loosened its grip. I am not sleeping any better, though. Each night I lie in bed for hours, unable to remember exactly how to turn off my brain so sleep can get to all those hardworking parts. Sort of puts a cramp in your style when class starts at nine and it's forty-five minutes away.
It reminds me of the first half of my seventh grade school year. I had just started at Latin and my alarm went off on school days at six am. Almost every night I lay awake for hours looking at the red glowing numbers. Sometimes I would wake up at two or three in the morning, only a half hour after I fell asleep, and get fully dressed thinking it was already morning. This would often result in attending school in wrinkly, slept-in clothes. Although, that may have been an improvement for my outfits (can anything improve light denim overalls?). Probably it was a combination of stress and hormones and exposure to mediocre alternative rock.
Part of me thinks that I am reverting to my seventh grade self. Last night, while not sleeping, I developed a theory to prove this based on the coincidence of my international flight (when six hours were just "lost"?) and a change in my hormones due to a birth control adjustment. I left my copy of "Dookie" by Green Day at home, so I haven't fully tested my transformation. But I have been drawn to plaid flannels this fall...
To make things more eerie, today in my class on memory and cinema, a girl with an Australian accent (sometimes unexpectedly reminiscent of a Boston accent) asked if I had gotten my sandwich at Spar, around the corner. For readers who were not lucky enough to attend the illustrious Latin School, Sparrs was the name of the dug store/ lunch counter/ soda fountain/ cliff notes dealership around the corner from my high school. And low and behold, the convenience store (no cliff notes to my knowledge) around the corner from my school in Amsterdam bears a VERY similar name. At the time this seemed an incredible coincidence. In the cold glare of the computer screen, I see the connection is tenuous.
So tonight I am taking matters into my own hands, a) by not going to the International Student mixer downtown that would keep me out much later than it was worth and b) by trying out one of "the best wines under five euros." Even though I haven't poured wine professionally in a month now, I still automatically pour exactly four ounces a glass (and twist my wrist as I lift the bottle). The things you remember!