Friday, September 17, 2010
Her fortune cookie….
...reads “your deepest wish will come true”. Really? No, seriously? She can think of several stars she has wished upon, but it’s always a wish – that’s what a wish is - something you want to make happen, but really, does it ever come true? “This ain’t Disneyworld” she scowls and throws the fortune paper in the trash. It’s been a sore in her side trying to think of who she trusts. She has gone through a list of people and in reality, trust is a very big issue for her. Especially when it comes to the men she trusts. This has made her think of what the meaning of trust is. Does it mean that person will be there for you through thick and thin? Will they be there for you when you need them? Does it mean you can tell them anything in the whole world and they won’t repeat it? Does it mean that they know you better than you know yourself? And even if you go your separate ways they will never talk bad about you? Or maybe that’s just respect. Are respect and trust the same thing? Are they interchangeable, or do they depend on each other to exist like worms depending on the soil for protection? Her head is starting to hurt. “Why does such weird shit happen to me?” she asks out loud. But then she sits up abruptly - an idea shoots out her head like a bolt of lightning through a sky of thoughts – “the gas station!!!” she shrieks, grabs her purse and keys and runs for the car.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
She awoke....
She awoke....
from a dream. It haunted her. She's had this dream before. She's alone - at a gas station in the middle of the desert. When she walks in to pay for her gas, there is no one behind the counter. "Hello??" she calls out but nobody answers. She leaves the money for the gas on the counter and walks out. Next to her car stands a tall man with long thick hair tied back in a ponytail. She can tell he's Native American. "Excuse me, can I help you?" she asks.
"I know you", says the man. He's about 6'2". She feels tiny compared to him, even though she is of medium build, and could use to lose a few pounds if she's being honest with herself.
Ok she's a little creeped out now. "I'm sorry, I think you're mistaking me for someone else."
"No, you must listen to me. The wind is calling. You're in danger. You must seek the one who you trust and believe what he says. He will guide you. The great Mother needs you to promise this" the man says.
She scowls, not knowing what to say. How do you respond to something like that? After standing looking at the man for several minutes in silence, he just walks away. He walks to the rear of the store. She gets in her car and drives to the back and sees no one.
"What the fuck?" she thinks. "How could he disappear?" she whispers to herself.
And that's where the story ends. She wakes up. Who could this person be that the indian man is trying to tell her about? And why does she need his guidance anyway? She's been shrugging this off for too long. Maybe she should pay more attention to those around her. Who does she trust? Hmm....
from a dream. It haunted her. She's had this dream before. She's alone - at a gas station in the middle of the desert. When she walks in to pay for her gas, there is no one behind the counter. "Hello??" she calls out but nobody answers. She leaves the money for the gas on the counter and walks out. Next to her car stands a tall man with long thick hair tied back in a ponytail. She can tell he's Native American. "Excuse me, can I help you?" she asks.
"I know you", says the man. He's about 6'2". She feels tiny compared to him, even though she is of medium build, and could use to lose a few pounds if she's being honest with herself.
Ok she's a little creeped out now. "I'm sorry, I think you're mistaking me for someone else."
"No, you must listen to me. The wind is calling. You're in danger. You must seek the one who you trust and believe what he says. He will guide you. The great Mother needs you to promise this" the man says.
She scowls, not knowing what to say. How do you respond to something like that? After standing looking at the man for several minutes in silence, he just walks away. He walks to the rear of the store. She gets in her car and drives to the back and sees no one.
"What the fuck?" she thinks. "How could he disappear?" she whispers to herself.
And that's where the story ends. She wakes up. Who could this person be that the indian man is trying to tell her about? And why does she need his guidance anyway? She's been shrugging this off for too long. Maybe she should pay more attention to those around her. Who does she trust? Hmm....
It's a scary world...
...
being alone. But she'll be ok, she thinks. As long as she can drink. "Oh, alcohol, my best friend! You've never let me down! Except for the times when you've made me really sick and throwing up and stuff. But that's ok, it's still better than anything an evil man can do to me - a hangover is better than a broken heart."
Ha - yet another good invention - "Broken Heart Vodka" and it would be colored black like that black vodka she had at that corner bar where she met the guy with tattooes up and down his arms and even up to his neckline. He was cool. But damn, what an idiot to have dissed her the way he did. He deserved the backlash she gave him. "You were wild, where are you now" she said to him. Apparently he had gone to jail and that's why she never heard from him again. It was probably best that way. Hence another reason for black vodka. It would be a good tool to use when she needed to forget. It was better than doing something more self-destructive like cutting herself, right? That's another thing she did all the time - compared things. She'd always think of worse things to make the situation she was in seem less threatening.
But forgetting was her way. Keep that poker face going girl. Chin up, heels on, it was going to be fun. She could promise at least that much to herself, even if it was dangerous.
being alone. But she'll be ok, she thinks. As long as she can drink. "Oh, alcohol, my best friend! You've never let me down! Except for the times when you've made me really sick and throwing up and stuff. But that's ok, it's still better than anything an evil man can do to me - a hangover is better than a broken heart."
Ha - yet another good invention - "Broken Heart Vodka" and it would be colored black like that black vodka she had at that corner bar where she met the guy with tattooes up and down his arms and even up to his neckline. He was cool. But damn, what an idiot to have dissed her the way he did. He deserved the backlash she gave him. "You were wild, where are you now" she said to him. Apparently he had gone to jail and that's why she never heard from him again. It was probably best that way. Hence another reason for black vodka. It would be a good tool to use when she needed to forget. It was better than doing something more self-destructive like cutting herself, right? That's another thing she did all the time - compared things. She'd always think of worse things to make the situation she was in seem less threatening.
But forgetting was her way. Keep that poker face going girl. Chin up, heels on, it was going to be fun. She could promise at least that much to herself, even if it was dangerous.
Responsibilities are boring...
Why can't she just have a carefree life? How hard could it be? She's on her way to Madison. She's playing Tori's version of Famous Blue Raincoat. She's crying. She can't stop crying - it's taken over her whole body. The realization that nothing will ever be the same. The decision that things must change. Where will it lead her to? Will loneliness fill her heart or will she fly away free as a bird? Ah, all these questions just make her cry more. Never has she ever before played a song back to back repeating for 4 hours. Next song - Twinkle. She allows it to play through. There is light at the end of the dark tunnel. She's arrived. She's going to have a martini - with a rum soaked mango in it. She knows where this road has led her now. And she's right, she's never going back again.
Road trip!
It's a good day - time for a drive. Where to? Who cares. Just shut up and drive. Can't really shut up when there's nobody to talk to. She gets out of the shower and immediately puts her hair in a ponytail. No time for hair dryers today. The sun is out, the weather is nice. And this hangover ain't going anywhere. Ok...the essentials. Money - check.....drivers license - check.....keys - check.....cell phone - check.....lip gloss - check (can't be dealing with another panic attack from leaving her lip gloss at home, heh).
Off we go! Vroom vroom! Feeling like a road runner! Got the music playing and my Cherry 7up and pack of smokes and ready to roll! Out of this shithole of a town! The phone rings. Crap, it's mom.
"Hello mom" she answers.
"Hi. What are you doing?"
"I'm driving. Don't know where."
"Well if you're that bored, why don't you drive home? I never see you anymore." her mom says.
Well, maybe if you weren't dating that asshole I'd like to come visit - she wishes she could say. But instead she replies "yeah, yeah, I know. Listen, I gotta go. I have to get gas and you can't talk on the phone while pumping gas. Could spark a fire and I could blow up."
"Ok, we wouldn't want that now would we?" her mom says.
Oh, maybe it wouldn't be so bad, she thinks to herself. At least it wouldn't be an obvious suicide. She could just play dumb like she didn't know. But then again she just explained to her mom that it was the reason she had to go. Fuck....nevermind. Hopefully she'll hit a cow along the way and kill herself that way. Ugh. She wonders how many people have actually died or more importantly, wanted to die by hitting a cow. Hmm...wishful thinking most likely. At least she's off the phone from her mom now. She didn't really need to stop for gas. But it was a good enough excuse. On with the drive!!!
Off we go! Vroom vroom! Feeling like a road runner! Got the music playing and my Cherry 7up and pack of smokes and ready to roll! Out of this shithole of a town! The phone rings. Crap, it's mom.
"Hello mom" she answers.
"Hi. What are you doing?"
"I'm driving. Don't know where."
"Well if you're that bored, why don't you drive home? I never see you anymore." her mom says.
Well, maybe if you weren't dating that asshole I'd like to come visit - she wishes she could say. But instead she replies "yeah, yeah, I know. Listen, I gotta go. I have to get gas and you can't talk on the phone while pumping gas. Could spark a fire and I could blow up."
"Ok, we wouldn't want that now would we?" her mom says.
Oh, maybe it wouldn't be so bad, she thinks to herself. At least it wouldn't be an obvious suicide. She could just play dumb like she didn't know. But then again she just explained to her mom that it was the reason she had to go. Fuck....nevermind. Hopefully she'll hit a cow along the way and kill herself that way. Ugh. She wonders how many people have actually died or more importantly, wanted to die by hitting a cow. Hmm...wishful thinking most likely. At least she's off the phone from her mom now. She didn't really need to stop for gas. But it was a good enough excuse. On with the drive!!!
There are bugs in the ashtray.
What are they doing there? There are so many of them too - hundreds of them! She looks closer - oh, they’re just just ashes. She giggles to herself.
It’s time for some fresh air and a walk. The streets are empty but she can hear music and people talking and little animals scurring. The street lights glow and illuminate the sky. Insects bounce off the glass covering the bright bulbs. They keep trying to get closer to the light, almost in hopes that they can somehow permeate the glass and become one with the light. Maybe that is all we are in the eyes of God and heaven....insects trying to be one with the light. And just maybe in the end, we just burn ourselves and die from false hopes.
"I’m thirsty, let’s stop off at this place for a drink and some observation," BC says. They stop at a bar where the first floor is packed with drunk college kids and a dancefloor. The climb the narrow stairs up to the second floor where the middle of the floor is cut out like a fishbowl overlooking the dancefloor. People are dancing - or at least they think they are. To her they look like bouncing balls of hair.
It’s really dark on the second floor minus a few neon lights and beer signs. She spot a light coming from the stairwell. The dark narrow tunnel they mustered up is barely visible with the one lonely light. She sits down at the top of the stairs. To the left of her cheek starts the handrail. She peers down it noticing a few bare spots where the paint has chipped away. At the end of the handrail is the light. Once again she realizes the significance of the light. BC sits next to her.
"What are you looking at?" he asks.
"My life," she says. "It’s like this whole package here - a dark and rusting chipped handrail, leading off into nothingness. I can’t see the end. But you know. it’s ok, there’s light at the end of the tunnel."
They sit there in silence for a moment and she can tell that BC knows what she means.
"I want some bubble gum. Let’s go." she says. And off they go down the tunnel of their lives again.
It’s time for some fresh air and a walk. The streets are empty but she can hear music and people talking and little animals scurring. The street lights glow and illuminate the sky. Insects bounce off the glass covering the bright bulbs. They keep trying to get closer to the light, almost in hopes that they can somehow permeate the glass and become one with the light. Maybe that is all we are in the eyes of God and heaven....insects trying to be one with the light. And just maybe in the end, we just burn ourselves and die from false hopes.
"I’m thirsty, let’s stop off at this place for a drink and some observation," BC says. They stop at a bar where the first floor is packed with drunk college kids and a dancefloor. The climb the narrow stairs up to the second floor where the middle of the floor is cut out like a fishbowl overlooking the dancefloor. People are dancing - or at least they think they are. To her they look like bouncing balls of hair.
It’s really dark on the second floor minus a few neon lights and beer signs. She spot a light coming from the stairwell. The dark narrow tunnel they mustered up is barely visible with the one lonely light. She sits down at the top of the stairs. To the left of her cheek starts the handrail. She peers down it noticing a few bare spots where the paint has chipped away. At the end of the handrail is the light. Once again she realizes the significance of the light. BC sits next to her.
"What are you looking at?" he asks.
"My life," she says. "It’s like this whole package here - a dark and rusting chipped handrail, leading off into nothingness. I can’t see the end. But you know. it’s ok, there’s light at the end of the tunnel."
They sit there in silence for a moment and she can tell that BC knows what she means.
"I want some bubble gum. Let’s go." she says. And off they go down the tunnel of their lives again.
She needs a hit....
She calls BC.
"Yo! What's up?" she says after she hears a hello on the line.
"Sporty!" he says.
He calls her Sporty after Sporty Spice. It's been his nickname for her for many years now. Maybe it's because she loves volleyball. Or maybe because she loves to wear her Adidas tracksuit.
"You gotta help me out. I just talked to Andy, and I'm hungover as fuck and I'm desperate for some fun," she says.
"Oh yeah, Sporty. I got what you need."
"Great, I"ll shower and be over," she sighs with relief.
"Oh, and Sporty - bring some cds."
In a matter of an hour, she's at BC's door.
"Hey Sporty, check this out. I got a really cool Snoopy pen. It lights up when you write!" he says with excitement like a little boy who has just discovered how to burn an ant with a magnifying glass and the sun.
"Cool! Can I hang onto it for awhile?" she asks.
"Of course" he smiles.
The true test of friendship - sharing new gadgets with your friend and trusting them with it.
"Here you are, one for you, and one for me," BC says and hands her a little colorful piece of paper with a smiley face on it.
She takes it and puts it on her tongue. The journey has begun. In about an hour she'll be able to figure out the world.
"Yo! What's up?" she says after she hears a hello on the line.
"Sporty!" he says.
He calls her Sporty after Sporty Spice. It's been his nickname for her for many years now. Maybe it's because she loves volleyball. Or maybe because she loves to wear her Adidas tracksuit.
"You gotta help me out. I just talked to Andy, and I'm hungover as fuck and I'm desperate for some fun," she says.
"Oh yeah, Sporty. I got what you need."
"Great, I"ll shower and be over," she sighs with relief.
"Oh, and Sporty - bring some cds."
In a matter of an hour, she's at BC's door.
"Hey Sporty, check this out. I got a really cool Snoopy pen. It lights up when you write!" he says with excitement like a little boy who has just discovered how to burn an ant with a magnifying glass and the sun.
"Cool! Can I hang onto it for awhile?" she asks.
"Of course" he smiles.
The true test of friendship - sharing new gadgets with your friend and trusting them with it.
"Here you are, one for you, and one for me," BC says and hands her a little colorful piece of paper with a smiley face on it.
She takes it and puts it on her tongue. The journey has begun. In about an hour she'll be able to figure out the world.
The headaches....
....never end. The phone rings.
"Hello?"
"What happened to you last night?" asks a familiar voice. It's Andy. She hasn't heard from him in a long time, so why now?
"What do you mean? What time is it?" she questions him.
"It's 10 a.m. I suppose it's too early to deal with a hangover huh? And I suppose you don't remember what we talked about last night." She doesn't even remember talking to him at all, much less what they talked about.
Shit - she looks at her cell phone. Sure enough, she called him at 3:03 a.m. She starts to wonder if drinking vodka is such a good idea now.
"Listen, let me call you back" he says.
"I don't really want you to call me back to be honest," she responds in a less than cordial voice.
"We're much better off as friends. Last night you said a lot of things you'd regret if you knew what you said." How dare he.
"Fuck off," she whispers just loud enough for him to hear, and she hangs up.
Why why why does she do this to herself over and over again? And why can't she just forget about him?
It reminds her of what Felicity once said. When something bad happens to you like getting your heart broken, I don't think you can just get over it. You just have to learn to deal with it.
So how can she deal with it? Can she deal? And what if she's dealt the one-eyed Jack?
"Hello?"
"What happened to you last night?" asks a familiar voice. It's Andy. She hasn't heard from him in a long time, so why now?
"What do you mean? What time is it?" she questions him.
"It's 10 a.m. I suppose it's too early to deal with a hangover huh? And I suppose you don't remember what we talked about last night." She doesn't even remember talking to him at all, much less what they talked about.
Shit - she looks at her cell phone. Sure enough, she called him at 3:03 a.m. She starts to wonder if drinking vodka is such a good idea now.
"Listen, let me call you back" he says.
"I don't really want you to call me back to be honest," she responds in a less than cordial voice.
"We're much better off as friends. Last night you said a lot of things you'd regret if you knew what you said." How dare he.
"Fuck off," she whispers just loud enough for him to hear, and she hangs up.
Why why why does she do this to herself over and over again? And why can't she just forget about him?
It reminds her of what Felicity once said. When something bad happens to you like getting your heart broken, I don't think you can just get over it. You just have to learn to deal with it.
So how can she deal with it? Can she deal? And what if she's dealt the one-eyed Jack?
Minority Rules!
Ah, it feels like a wine night. In her car she goes to the liquor store. After buying her favorite - white burgundy (french wines are the best!) - she notices a girl named Laura she knew and partied with, but never particularly liked. "Hey you!" she hears Laura call. "God, just ignore her, act like you never heard her" she thinks to herself. "Hey girl!" she hears again. Shit - too late! She turns in the direction of this voice she knows all too well.
"Hi, long time no see!" she replies to Laura in her fakest I'm happy to see you voice. Laura reminds her of the girl who would go to see a band play, not for the music, but for the groupie atmosphere. She remembers being at a bar one time and feeling someone petting her hair, only to turn around and see Laura standing behind her. Who does that? Who goes up to another girl she hardly knows and pets them? Creepy.
After the brief encounter, she explains that she's late for a dinner date - which is not true in the slightest, but she's got to find a way out of this. "Adios!" says Laura as they go their separate ways. "Fuck off weirdo!" she thinks as she watches Laura get into her car, but she just smiles instead.
Oh, thank god for that! Just for that, she decides she needs more alcohol. So back into the store she goes and heads straight to the vodka.
When she arrives home, she pours herself a glass of wine straight away. Mmm...it hits the spot. Looks as though it's another night at home drinking by herself again. She prefers it this way though. "When you're all alone, nobody else can say goodbye", she sings to herself.
She's thinking about Laura. It's a gut feeling she has about her. What is her fascination with her hair anyhow? Guess it's like one of those cases where one woman fancies what other woman has. She laughs out loud at this thought. Who would have thought in 6th grade that this would be the case? In 6th grade she was the one wishing she had other girls' hair. The words "but she's the minority" pop into her head. How strange. It's Stacy. She hasn't thought about her in a very long time. She's brought back to a time - it was after basketball practice - 12 years old - her dad was the coach. As her father and her walked out after practice they noticed one of the girls on the team standing off to the side crying. "Hey Stacy, what's wrong?" she asked her. Stacy explained that her friends and her had had an argument. Stacy said that they made fun of her weight - Stacy was an extremely thin girl - almost waif like. Her father tried to explain that it was going to be ok and that she had other friends like his daughter. "But she's the minority" Stacy said crying. Guess you could say that she was in shock. From that day forward, she realized she just was never going to be the popular girl. Didn't matter - popular girls were the most depressed and suppressed. As a matter of fact, years later Stacy took her own life by downing a bunch of pills. Now who's the minority?
"Hi, long time no see!" she replies to Laura in her fakest I'm happy to see you voice. Laura reminds her of the girl who would go to see a band play, not for the music, but for the groupie atmosphere. She remembers being at a bar one time and feeling someone petting her hair, only to turn around and see Laura standing behind her. Who does that? Who goes up to another girl she hardly knows and pets them? Creepy.
After the brief encounter, she explains that she's late for a dinner date - which is not true in the slightest, but she's got to find a way out of this. "Adios!" says Laura as they go their separate ways. "Fuck off weirdo!" she thinks as she watches Laura get into her car, but she just smiles instead.
Oh, thank god for that! Just for that, she decides she needs more alcohol. So back into the store she goes and heads straight to the vodka.
When she arrives home, she pours herself a glass of wine straight away. Mmm...it hits the spot. Looks as though it's another night at home drinking by herself again. She prefers it this way though. "When you're all alone, nobody else can say goodbye", she sings to herself.
She's thinking about Laura. It's a gut feeling she has about her. What is her fascination with her hair anyhow? Guess it's like one of those cases where one woman fancies what other woman has. She laughs out loud at this thought. Who would have thought in 6th grade that this would be the case? In 6th grade she was the one wishing she had other girls' hair. The words "but she's the minority" pop into her head. How strange. It's Stacy. She hasn't thought about her in a very long time. She's brought back to a time - it was after basketball practice - 12 years old - her dad was the coach. As her father and her walked out after practice they noticed one of the girls on the team standing off to the side crying. "Hey Stacy, what's wrong?" she asked her. Stacy explained that her friends and her had had an argument. Stacy said that they made fun of her weight - Stacy was an extremely thin girl - almost waif like. Her father tried to explain that it was going to be ok and that she had other friends like his daughter. "But she's the minority" Stacy said crying. Guess you could say that she was in shock. From that day forward, she realized she just was never going to be the popular girl. Didn't matter - popular girls were the most depressed and suppressed. As a matter of fact, years later Stacy took her own life by downing a bunch of pills. Now who's the minority?
"I got a message..."
.....from BCB by the way," she told him.
"What did he say?" he asked.
"It's not so much what he said, it's what he did. His actions spoke a lot of words."
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked her searching for a way in.
"Yeah, I do," she responded. "Let me start with this - there's something I gotta tell you about first."
He seemed intrigued. This didn't sound like normal everyday small talk. He was ready to listen. This might take a bit of his psycho-analysis (thanks to his dad who is a psychologist).
She began - "After me and him - you know who "him" is - after that, I was searching for something. Looking inside myself. Trying to find a way to make him love me again. Trying to find a way to fit into his 'model'. I didn't understand that you could love somebody too much. That didn't seem possible to me. Anyhow, I went over to BCB's house and of course we had many, many drinks. I knew his roommate liked me. So I thought I'd go talk to him. Turns out the guy was just a dumbass, which I already knew. But apparently when I was talking to his roommate, BCB decided to leave me something."
"Leave you something? Please elaborate."
"Well, when I came back downstairs, there was a photograph of myself on the table," she explained. "I thought that was strange since we had been drinking at that very same table just before and I didn't notice it then. But then I turned over the photo." She paused....it was clear that she was thinking about how to react to this photo.
"Did it say something?" he asked.
"Yeah, it did....he wrote on the back of my photo, 'she's been everybody else's girl, maybe one day she'll be her own.'"
"Wow," he looked at her wondering if she knew what the significance was of that quote. "That's a very intense song you know."
"I'm very aware of that. It reminds me of my mother. I never wanted to be that girl."
Tears start to well up in her eyes. She knows what this means.
"What did he say?" he asked.
"It's not so much what he said, it's what he did. His actions spoke a lot of words."
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked her searching for a way in.
"Yeah, I do," she responded. "Let me start with this - there's something I gotta tell you about first."
He seemed intrigued. This didn't sound like normal everyday small talk. He was ready to listen. This might take a bit of his psycho-analysis (thanks to his dad who is a psychologist).
She began - "After me and him - you know who "him" is - after that, I was searching for something. Looking inside myself. Trying to find a way to make him love me again. Trying to find a way to fit into his 'model'. I didn't understand that you could love somebody too much. That didn't seem possible to me. Anyhow, I went over to BCB's house and of course we had many, many drinks. I knew his roommate liked me. So I thought I'd go talk to him. Turns out the guy was just a dumbass, which I already knew. But apparently when I was talking to his roommate, BCB decided to leave me something."
"Leave you something? Please elaborate."
"Well, when I came back downstairs, there was a photograph of myself on the table," she explained. "I thought that was strange since we had been drinking at that very same table just before and I didn't notice it then. But then I turned over the photo." She paused....it was clear that she was thinking about how to react to this photo.
"Did it say something?" he asked.
"Yeah, it did....he wrote on the back of my photo, 'she's been everybody else's girl, maybe one day she'll be her own.'"
"Wow," he looked at her wondering if she knew what the significance was of that quote. "That's a very intense song you know."
"I'm very aware of that. It reminds me of my mother. I never wanted to be that girl."
Tears start to well up in her eyes. She knows what this means.
"You know what makes me sad?"
.....she asked him.
"What's that?" he said.
"When you see pictures of missing pets that people post on telephone poles. I always want to call them weeks later and ask them if they found their dog or cat. But then I think that maybe that's just cruel to do just in case they haven't."
"Yeah, that is sad," he said.
She likes how they can agree on stuff. She knows he's a good friend. It's a healthy reciprical friendship. Give and take.
"You know what I think is sad," he continues, "not that what you just said isn't, but that I have to work with a republican in the next cube that is so blind to what's going on in the world that it's almost unbearable. I mean, the guy has the wool pulled over his eyes so much so that it almost makes me angry."
She can see his point. She agrees - people who are blind to truth are very annoying.
"Actually, I just found out another thing that made me sad," she said. "Did you know that in medieval Christianity, a deceased pregnant woman could be buried in a Christian cemetery only if she had been baptized. Meaning the unborn child was not allowed to be buried without being baptized. Therefore, they used to cut out the unborn child and bury it outside of the cemetery in unconsecrated ground," she stated.
This seemed to be a turning point in their conversation. He looked at her with a glaze over his eyes.
"Was there ever a time when things were ok?" he asks her.
"I don't know," she responded. "I think sadness finds its way to me - I'm just a messenger."
"What's that?" he said.
"When you see pictures of missing pets that people post on telephone poles. I always want to call them weeks later and ask them if they found their dog or cat. But then I think that maybe that's just cruel to do just in case they haven't."
"Yeah, that is sad," he said.
She likes how they can agree on stuff. She knows he's a good friend. It's a healthy reciprical friendship. Give and take.
"You know what I think is sad," he continues, "not that what you just said isn't, but that I have to work with a republican in the next cube that is so blind to what's going on in the world that it's almost unbearable. I mean, the guy has the wool pulled over his eyes so much so that it almost makes me angry."
She can see his point. She agrees - people who are blind to truth are very annoying.
"Actually, I just found out another thing that made me sad," she said. "Did you know that in medieval Christianity, a deceased pregnant woman could be buried in a Christian cemetery only if she had been baptized. Meaning the unborn child was not allowed to be buried without being baptized. Therefore, they used to cut out the unborn child and bury it outside of the cemetery in unconsecrated ground," she stated.
This seemed to be a turning point in their conversation. He looked at her with a glaze over his eyes.
"Was there ever a time when things were ok?" he asks her.
"I don't know," she responded. "I think sadness finds its way to me - I'm just a messenger."
She’s on her way....
.....to meet her friend for lunch. Every once in awhile she meets him for a big fat burrito wrapped in foil. She always gets the hot sauce. It's a good hot - not the kind where it hurts too much to enjoy the taste and not the kind where she hallucinates and talks to space coyotes. It's a good hot.
She decides to bike there today. On her way she peddles over some train tracks. The unevenness of the road bumps her into a flashback - a vision of a black and white photograph of an african american man standing on the railroad. He'd been working long and hard those days. Sweat drops develop on his forehead like little droplets of mercury. "I wonder if he's married with children. Maybe that's why he works so hard," she hopes. She doesn't want this vision to be a vision of racial hatred. But it's hard to say being that it's in black and white - it could very well be the times of slavery.
BEEP!!! Suddenly she's back to reality as she jumps at the obnoxious behavior of impatient drivers and their overuse of their auto horns (and middle fingers).
Alas, she's at the contemporary restaurant that reminds her of an upscale Taco Bell. She doesn't see her friend, but that's not surprising. He tends to show up shortly after she arrives everytime they meet. A few minutes tick by and she spots him walking around the corner. She always knows what direction he'll be coming from since he parks in the same spot everytime. They smile when their eyes meet and go order their burritos - hers with hot sauce of course.
She decides to bike there today. On her way she peddles over some train tracks. The unevenness of the road bumps her into a flashback - a vision of a black and white photograph of an african american man standing on the railroad. He'd been working long and hard those days. Sweat drops develop on his forehead like little droplets of mercury. "I wonder if he's married with children. Maybe that's why he works so hard," she hopes. She doesn't want this vision to be a vision of racial hatred. But it's hard to say being that it's in black and white - it could very well be the times of slavery.
BEEP!!! Suddenly she's back to reality as she jumps at the obnoxious behavior of impatient drivers and their overuse of their auto horns (and middle fingers).
Alas, she's at the contemporary restaurant that reminds her of an upscale Taco Bell. She doesn't see her friend, but that's not surprising. He tends to show up shortly after she arrives everytime they meet. A few minutes tick by and she spots him walking around the corner. She always knows what direction he'll be coming from since he parks in the same spot everytime. They smile when their eyes meet and go order their burritos - hers with hot sauce of course.
The Inner Eagle
She came across a poem that she wrote many years ago. It went something like this:
The eagle looked at me
With a scoul on his face
Lowered his brow
And denied his grace
And said, "Girl, you're much too shallow to soar above these hills"
And I said, "But Mr. Eagle, I can get that from a pill"
He laughed as he spotted a rabbit down below
"That would normally be my dinner," he said, "but I know we must go"
His claws grasped my hair
And brought me to a place - I don't really know where
"Light a fire" he yelled
So I took out my matches
He laughed once again and said, "You do not need matches dear - think clear - and you will see your flames within."
So I closed my eyes and listened to the breeze
I suddenly warmed within
I looked around and yelled, "Mr. Eagle! You didn't see my flames!"
"I didn't need to" I heard inside my head
"I am yourself - I felt them too my friend"
The eagle looked at me
With a scoul on his face
Lowered his brow
And denied his grace
And said, "Girl, you're much too shallow to soar above these hills"
And I said, "But Mr. Eagle, I can get that from a pill"
He laughed as he spotted a rabbit down below
"That would normally be my dinner," he said, "but I know we must go"
His claws grasped my hair
And brought me to a place - I don't really know where
"Light a fire" he yelled
So I took out my matches
He laughed once again and said, "You do not need matches dear - think clear - and you will see your flames within."
So I closed my eyes and listened to the breeze
I suddenly warmed within
I looked around and yelled, "Mr. Eagle! You didn't see my flames!"
"I didn't need to" I heard inside my head
"I am yourself - I felt them too my friend"
I want to start a revolution!
She woke up and her first thought was "I want to start a revolution!" Who doesn't? Ok, pick just one question and find the answer. How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? "Please brain, be serious for a minute" she thought, wrinkling her forehead. It reminds her of a billboard sign she read while driving through the countryside of Wisconsin. It read - "God is the Answer. What is the question?" One thought came to mind - "who do you rely on to be there for you that seems to disappoint quite often?" There's your question.
How different things would be if God had a personal assistant. The backbone of every operation. At least there is a Professional Admin Day to thank these men and women for all their hard effort. Anyhow, at least if God had an admin assistant, he would know where to get a good box lunch with a big fat half pickle.
This leads her into another train of thought. This sure ain't the polar express! She thinks back when she was young - when she was listening to Like a Virgin before she even knew what a virgin was. She went to Catholic school. The girls all had to wear the ugliest jumpers. They were navy blue and the shirts all had to be white button down long sleeve shirts. She was at that age where personal style was so important to development. She tried to be different - to stand out - and in the process she was ridiculed by the other girls. Especially Kristin with her long blonde beautiful hair. And she was even nice enough to invite Kristin to her roller skating party. Kristin didn't show. Last she saw Kristin was in the bar. Kristin was behind the bar - quite pregnant - serving her for the night. Imagine that!
She didn't have a lot of fond memories of Catholic school. Except for the rosary - it smelled so sweet of roses. Father Leo gave it to her. Oh, and of course the crush she had on Father Dan.
At any rate, there would be no revolution today.....
How different things would be if God had a personal assistant. The backbone of every operation. At least there is a Professional Admin Day to thank these men and women for all their hard effort. Anyhow, at least if God had an admin assistant, he would know where to get a good box lunch with a big fat half pickle.
This leads her into another train of thought. This sure ain't the polar express! She thinks back when she was young - when she was listening to Like a Virgin before she even knew what a virgin was. She went to Catholic school. The girls all had to wear the ugliest jumpers. They were navy blue and the shirts all had to be white button down long sleeve shirts. She was at that age where personal style was so important to development. She tried to be different - to stand out - and in the process she was ridiculed by the other girls. Especially Kristin with her long blonde beautiful hair. And she was even nice enough to invite Kristin to her roller skating party. Kristin didn't show. Last she saw Kristin was in the bar. Kristin was behind the bar - quite pregnant - serving her for the night. Imagine that!
She didn't have a lot of fond memories of Catholic school. Except for the rosary - it smelled so sweet of roses. Father Leo gave it to her. Oh, and of course the crush she had on Father Dan.
At any rate, there would be no revolution today.....
As she sat down....
.....she must have had a puzzling look on her face because her friend asked, "what's the matter with you? did you see a ghost shitting in the bathroom?"
"No", she thought for a second. God, should she really open this can of worms? "Uh, just out of curiosity, do you ever feel like there's something missing, like you forgot to do something?"
Her friend looked very confused like this was going nowhere.
"I don't know", she continued trying to explain to her friend what she was feeling. "I just feel like I'm struggling to find the answers" she said.
"But" her friend pondered, "what exactly are the questions?"
Tou-chay bitch she thought as she bit her lip. For christ sakes, she can't even answer THAT question!
"Let's get out of here" she said to her friend.
"Right, let's go then".
So they called it a night.....
"No", she thought for a second. God, should she really open this can of worms? "Uh, just out of curiosity, do you ever feel like there's something missing, like you forgot to do something?"
Her friend looked very confused like this was going nowhere.
"I don't know", she continued trying to explain to her friend what she was feeling. "I just feel like I'm struggling to find the answers" she said.
"But" her friend pondered, "what exactly are the questions?"
Tou-chay bitch she thought as she bit her lip. For christ sakes, she can't even answer THAT question!
"Let's get out of here" she said to her friend.
"Right, let's go then".
So they called it a night.....
How is it.....
....that she can be in a crowded room and she's so alone? She would tell her friend this, but her friend would just light up another smoke and dismiss any serious talk.
They should make it legal to smack people if they're annoying. Would she smack her friend? Nah, probably not. But that's only because her friend was previously in an abusive relationship. God, that brings back memories. She sighs and almost rolls her eyes. It's time for another drink. But bathroom break first. She tells her friend to "hold that thought". Good thing for bathroom breaks.
At the end of the bar sits a man she thinks she recognizes. "Thinks" is the key word here because she seems to see a lot of people she recognizes. She chaulks it up to probably meeting these people in a past life. Or maybe it was just a previous drink encounter. Oh well, fuck it. Does it matter anyhow?
She sits on the toilet and reads the bathroom walls. She's been in this stall a hundred times but always seems to find something new. This time she reads a note written in lipstick on the wall that says, "for a good time call Sara @ 699-0959." Maybe she should call this Sara being as her company for the night just isn't that entertaining. Nah, Sara probably has the looks and the brains so it's probably jealousy. What a waste of some lipstick! She flushes, washes her hands and goes back to her table hoping her friend decided to become more interesting...
They should make it legal to smack people if they're annoying. Would she smack her friend? Nah, probably not. But that's only because her friend was previously in an abusive relationship. God, that brings back memories. She sighs and almost rolls her eyes. It's time for another drink. But bathroom break first. She tells her friend to "hold that thought". Good thing for bathroom breaks.
At the end of the bar sits a man she thinks she recognizes. "Thinks" is the key word here because she seems to see a lot of people she recognizes. She chaulks it up to probably meeting these people in a past life. Or maybe it was just a previous drink encounter. Oh well, fuck it. Does it matter anyhow?
She sits on the toilet and reads the bathroom walls. She's been in this stall a hundred times but always seems to find something new. This time she reads a note written in lipstick on the wall that says, "for a good time call Sara @ 699-0959." Maybe she should call this Sara being as her company for the night just isn't that entertaining. Nah, Sara probably has the looks and the brains so it's probably jealousy. What a waste of some lipstick! She flushes, washes her hands and goes back to her table hoping her friend decided to become more interesting...
Would you like another......
"....drink miss?" the waiter asks.
"Yes please" she replies. Her head is starting to buzz. She likes this feeling. Her inhibitions start to fade, but she is still catching conversations from other tables. Funny how other people's conversations are more interesting than her own.
She stares at her friend wondering what she sees in her. They have nothing in common. They do talk a lot. But they don't value the same things in life. Maybe because they grew up differently. At any rate, at the present time she just wishes she could disappear. Where would she go if she could go anywhere right now? Maybe nowhere. Maybe being lost in space wouldn't be so bad. Would it be so wrong to not want a purpose in life? Is that even possible? Even protons and electrons have a purpose. Even fucking amebas have a purpose!
Oh, these thoughts are killing her. Just take another drink. Drink it away. Maybe in the morning she will only have a hangover to worry about.
"Yes please" she replies. Her head is starting to buzz. She likes this feeling. Her inhibitions start to fade, but she is still catching conversations from other tables. Funny how other people's conversations are more interesting than her own.
She stares at her friend wondering what she sees in her. They have nothing in common. They do talk a lot. But they don't value the same things in life. Maybe because they grew up differently. At any rate, at the present time she just wishes she could disappear. Where would she go if she could go anywhere right now? Maybe nowhere. Maybe being lost in space wouldn't be so bad. Would it be so wrong to not want a purpose in life? Is that even possible? Even protons and electrons have a purpose. Even fucking amebas have a purpose!
Oh, these thoughts are killing her. Just take another drink. Drink it away. Maybe in the morning she will only have a hangover to worry about.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
She
She worries how the night will end, as she runs her long thumb nail across her lips. She doesn't bite it - she gave up that habit years ago. Probably around the time she took up smoking - orally fixated. From one bad habit to another.
She can't cry tonight although she would love to. She's out around 30-somethings with smiles on their faces. Besides, she's not wearing waterproof mascara.
From the table next to her she overhears a good looking young blonde woman with piercing greenish blue eyes talk about her new earrings her boyfriend bought her. She can only assume it's her boyfriend being as she didn't notice a ring on her finger. But then again, that's her traditional side thinking. When in fact, these days you never can tell. For all she knows, the blonde could have been with her boyfriend for 10 years by now. Maybe he really does love her. Or maybe he cheated on her & is trying to make up for it. Blondes do have fun, but even pretty girls get cheated on.
She can't cry tonight although she would love to. She's out around 30-somethings with smiles on their faces. Besides, she's not wearing waterproof mascara.
From the table next to her she overhears a good looking young blonde woman with piercing greenish blue eyes talk about her new earrings her boyfriend bought her. She can only assume it's her boyfriend being as she didn't notice a ring on her finger. But then again, that's her traditional side thinking. When in fact, these days you never can tell. For all she knows, the blonde could have been with her boyfriend for 10 years by now. Maybe he really does love her. Or maybe he cheated on her & is trying to make up for it. Blondes do have fun, but even pretty girls get cheated on.
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