I typed. "My name is Mackenzie. I am a senior in high school, which makes me about nineteen. (I started school late in life). My parents are competing with each other to see who can buy me the better things. So, live on my own in a huge house (my mom bought it for me). I just got a brand new, never been used Camaro (my dad bought it for me). It’s cherry red with black leather interior. Now, what about you?" He never answered any of my questions. He just always asked me questions and expected me to answer them. Like where do I live, where do I work, do I have a boyfriend or am I married? Even though I have a boyfriend, I didn’t really understand why it mattered if there was a man in my life or not, YET ! My mom always told me to be careful of whom I talked to on-line and never give out any of my information to a guy, especially if I didn’t know him and have never met him. But, being a typical teen, I gave him my name and number (via E-mail). How stupid was I? All he had to do was look me up in the phone book or google me and find where I live (my parents were very rich, very well known, and they put all of my families information on the internet, really stupid right!). But, wait! I didn’t give him my last name. So I went to bed terrified about what could happen to me.
When I got up in the morning, I drove to my friend Sarah’s house. When I got there she asked me what was wrong because I was quiet and I am never quiet. I told her that I was fine and we left for school. In school, people kept staring at me and I couldn’t figure out why. How could they know? I didn’t even tell anyone. I started to get scared. I felt sick to my stomach. I was starting to get creeped out. Then a really hot Jock (named Junior, whom I’ve had a crush on since before I met my boyfriend in seventh grade. He has a really nice body and honey brown eyes, which looked very humble and warm) told me that I had toilet paper stuck to my shoe. That made me feel much better.
I was very antsy during school. My teachers started to complain. I couldn’t sit still and I wasn’t paying attention in class. I was "daydreaming." I couldn’t stop daydreaming of what "HE" looked like.
When the last bell finally rang, I was ecstatic. I was looking forward to going home and curling up by the computer to see if "Cyber-Man" was waiting for me, to log-on. I called him "Cyber-Man" because he never told me his real name so I made one up for him.
When I got home I immediately logged on, and of course he was already logged on waiting for me. He had sent me 6 E-mails in one day. (He apparently had too much time on his hands). He wanted me to IM (Instant Message) him. As I went to IM him, my phone rang. Could it be? No, never, it couldn’t possibly be … it was possible. It was him, "Cyber-Man." "Hello," I said scared stiff. Then there was silence. "Is anyone there?" I asked.
"Hi," he said finally. "I know where you live. I can see every move you make through your window," he continued. I was frantic, I couldn’t breath. With tears streaming down my face, I dropped the phone. As I ran to the window, I tripped over the phone cord and I hit the floor THUMP! (Luckily for me it was carpet). I heard a voice coming from the phone on the floor next to me, "Are you okay?" he asked. The voice sounded really close. As I lay on the floor holding my shin, I heard footsteps.
"GO AWAY!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. But luckily it was only Sarah, my best friend, from school. She asked what happened and I told her nothing; that I was fine and that I had just fallen.
Then the voice of "Cyber-Man" filled the room, "I am coming for you!" he said. I got up, grabbed my camera and limped to the door. "Cyber-Man" was walking up the steps to my front door! I locked the door and Sarah came over to me screaming "WHAT’S GOING ON?" "Just lock all of the windows and doors, and close all of the blinds and curtains," I said. She said, "Whatever!" and did what I asked. I limped to the couch, sat down and moved the curtain out of the way. I picked up my camera and started snapping pictures. As he rang the doorbell I paused, should I answer it.
"DON’T ANSWER IT!" I shouted. He looked at me like I was mental or something. (Which if I may add I’m not). As I took pictures of him getting out of his car, his license plate number, and a picture of the Florida plate. "Cyber-Man" turned and looked directly at me. I was now face to face with "Cyber-Man!" Chills ran down my spine. Sarah came and plopped on the couch behind me. I got a few more shots just as he turned to go get in his car (a black Corvette with red leather interior).
Sarah turned, looked at me confused and said; "I have never seen you like this before. It’s kind of freaking me out." I apologized. She couldn’t understand why I gave him my name and number, and that he had found me so quickly. I asked her if she would stay the night and she accepted the invite with open arms. We went around one more time checking all of the windows and doors to make sure they were all locked. I let the butler go home early. I told Sarah that I was going to take a bath and try to relax. She said that she would take a shower in the spare bathroom while I took my bath.
The next morning we woke up to the doorbell. "Could it be "Cyber-Man" coming back to get me?" I asked myself. I had sent the butler home so Sarah and I walked to the front door. We both peaked out the window. With a huge sigh of relief I unlocked and opened the door. It was the UPS man. Why do they come so early in the morning? (By the way it was 7:00 AM). That should be illegal. But what can I do? Sarah turned to me and asked, "Who is it from?" "I don’t know," I said. "It doesn’t say. It just says TO Mackenzie Marie," I explained. I stared at the package dazed and confused.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Exam project
Castle of Sand
“…when the summer dies and the muteness is mine. In the winter I stand hidden far in the bar and the time is passing. Month, year. And I’m falling, falling, falling…”.
As I hear that song I fall back right on her bed, lying right next to her. The fire attached to the braided wick is flicking, and give the room a gloomy, dimmed scene. I inhale her breath into my lungs, and open my eyes slowly to look at her beautiful face. She is laying close to me. Her eyes are closed, and she is breathing softly. I breathe in the smell from her shampoo. It has a fruity smell, mango I think. I lean my head closer to her, hoping that she would do the same so our lips, maybe, would accidentally touch each others. I look at the clock radio. Its green numbers are glowing on the surface of her dark-brown hair. It is ten after nine. My curfew is really nine o’clock so I know I have to get going soon, even though I don’t want to. I feel comfortable here in her bed. I want the time to stop. I want to be here forever by her side. Forever, always.
She is lying on her side with folded legs with her body facing mine, and mine facing her. Her stomach is growing as it was fills with my breath, and shrinks when the oxygen leave her lungs into my mouth. She appears so peacefully. Like a sleeping baby, so innocent, so pure. Everything feels so right. I wouldn’t like to be anywhere else but right here. I want to be filled with the inside of her. I want to embrace her, and never let go. I want to be connected to her beautiful house made of flesh and bone with thousand of unbreakable wires made out of a material that would last throughout the end of the world. When the pyramids are nothing but a pile of dirt, when the mountains are shattered to valleys, when the sun turns into a black hole, I want to be right there, laying on the top of her bedspread and watch her sleep.
I look up over her hair on the opposite wall of the room. Pictures, stuck with thumb tags are hanging between her desk and the door. I squint with my eyes, trying to see what it is. Kristina’s pretty smile is taking up the whole photograph, so that the girl she’s standing next to is barely noticed. Kristina looks happy. On an other picture she is holding a giant light brown teddy bear at, what it looks like, some amusement park. There is a Paris wheel in the background and her big sister is standing next to her holding two fingers behind Kristina’s head. I wonder if a picture of me will ever be on that wall.
Kristina jerk awake and I flinch, as I’m taken off guard. I look at her. In a flash she was as still as a rock again, sound asleep. Drool is running down her left cheek and is making a dark blue mark on the light blue bead spread. I smile, move my hand from behind my back toward her face. I wipe her cheek with my finger, and then rub the drool off my finger on the pillow my head is resting on to dry it. I look back at her. Her eyelids are twisting. Wonder what she’s dreaming about. I take my hand and let it float above her shoulder. I move it down along her side without touching her. I want to touch her. Show her that I care for her, that she is my everything. The gravity is strong. But I’m holding back. I built my castle for just one man, no one else. I can do it. I can’t show her how much she means to me. Even though she is so beautiful that it hurts.
I remember that moment as I was in it right now.
The song ends and another one starts. System of Down, but I can’t remember what the song is called. I take my headphones of my ears and let them rest on my shoulders. I look out the window and watch the cars flashing by as the bus is traveling the way toward school. The noise strikes me. In front of me two black guys with sunglasses are shouting at a girl, sitting in the front of the bus. She is ignoring them. Further back in the bus I can hear football jocks scream and laugh. On the opposite side of my seat a short, blonde guy is sitting, quietly, watching out the window.
- Duuude! Mike is yelling out.
I feel a firm grip on my shoulders from the seat behind me.
- Yo! I shouted back.
- Stevo, me, Matt and you are crashing Steph’s party tonight, man!
I turn my head back and he lets go of my back with his hands.
- Man, I can’t tonight. I gotta stay home and baby-sit my little brother.
- Dude, you’re a friggin’ loser? Mike replies.
- “Sitting home and baby-sit my little brother”. Dude, you gotta start livin’, man. He says.
As I’m turning back I say:
- What ever, man.
- Dude, you can’t miss this shit, man! We’re gonna have a crazy time over there, and you know it!
I look out the window as the bus turn in to the school property.
- Shut up Mike. I mumbled back to him.
Mike jumps from his seat onto mine.
- Simon! What’s wrong, man?
Mike pushes me with his shoulder lightly.
I turn my head, and look at him.
- I’m busy tonight, alright? I said, a bit annoyed.
Mike jerks back, with his palms up in the air like he surrender.
- Ok, ok. Chill, man. What ever you gotta do, you gotta do. But I’ll call you if you’ll have time later on, aaight?
- Sure, that’s cool. I said.
We started walking out of the bus and in through the main entrance of Randolph Central High School. It was a nice day outside. Finally it’s Friday.
46-35-26. I push up the handle and pull the locker door out. I grab my bag and take my skateboard under my arm. I slam the locker and start pushing myself through the crowd of students walking out of school. As I walk out of the door that a tall, slender girl in front of me is holding up on her way out the warmth of the sun hit my face and I’m forced to squint my eyes.
- Dude, aren’t you goin’ with the bus!? I hear someone shout as I’m walking pass the yellow school buses that are parked by the curb outside the main entrance .
I look up to the window of my bus and I see Mike’s head stick out of one of them.
- Nuh, I’m gonna ride the board home today. I tell him.
- You’re a fuckin’ loser, man.
I give him the finger and smile as I keep walking. He makes a funny face and pull in his head as the driver is screaming at him.
I put my hand down my pocket and take up my iPod. I put my headphones on my ears. A girl from my math class is waving at me from the inside of a bus window. I wave back and smile.
I put on our song. Kristina’s and my song.
I’m in her room, lying right next to her, watching her. She takes a deep breath. Her little tummy is sticking out from her fitted T-shirt and it seems so cuddly that I just want to squeeze it. I want to put my teeth on her love handles and chew on them. I want to grab her thighs and pierce my fingers through her dark blue jeans, rub my head between those gorgeous breasts. I want to purse my lips and lean forward two inches and just kiss her.
But the door to my castle has to remain closed. I’m not going to give in. I know that if I would ever loose this perfect human being I would never survive. Stay back and stay safe. I can’t let
such a thing as affection effect me. I wouldn’t just get hurt; I would be torn up inside out. Is it worth it?
I slam the door as I walk in the hallway and throw my skateboard in the corner where shoes are laying disorganized. Billy runs to me and put his paws on my leg half standing. I bend down and pet his white furry head.
- Hi buddy! How you’re doin’? how you’re doin’? I erect and Billy steps down and runs to his food bowl.
- You wanna eat, huh? Nop, not until six o’clock, you know that. I say as I hang up my bag on a hook.
Billy sits down by his bowl and lifts his right paw, waiting for me to come over and shake it.
- Silly Billy. I say as a walk passed him in to my room.
I hear the clicking from his paws on the tile floor follow me. I close the door and it gets quiet on the other side of the door. I take my head phones of my shoulders, grab my iPod and put it on my desk. Clicking sound is moving away from the door into the kitchen again. I lay down on my bed and take a deep, quick breath.
- Simon!? Are you in there?
I open my eyes, turn my head and look at the clock radio on the night stand.
- Yeah, I’m here! I shout back.
I was out for more than two hours. The sun is illuminating the room as its rays shines in through my small square window above my dresser. I sit up on the side of the bed and rub the sleep out of my eyes.
- The food is ready if you want any, Simon! The voice comes from the kitchen.
I smell fried onions, and some kind of meat.
- Yeah, I’m coming. I reply.
I stand up and walk over to my mirror, hanging on the door. My gray Element T-shirt is all wrinkled. I brush my hand over it to straight it out. I hear footsteps coming from the kitchen toward my door. It gets quiet.
- If you want any food its ready now. The voice is right by my door.
- I hear you mom! I yell out. It gets quiet.
I brush my bang to the side and press the hair that stands out on the side down to the scalp.
Footsteps are moving in to the kitchen.
I open the door and see my mom leaning against the wall watching the TV in the living room while she holds her plate with meat loaf, potato and vegetables. I walk over to the table and pulls it out. My mom turns around quickly, slams the plate into the wall and almost drops the food.
- Uh! You scared me. She breathes out and put her hand on her chest.
I sit down on the chair and start fills my plate.
- So how was school? She asks.
I can hear Judge Judy on the TV in the living room. I take a sip of milk to get the piece of meat down my throat.
- Good. I reply.
She turns around and watches the TV.
Billy walks over to the side of my chair and puts his paws on my lap. I put my fork in a potato and cut of a small piece. Billy hops down and walk around in a circle. He is crying in a low tone. I take the piece of potato in my hand and holds it above Billy. He sits down and lift his paw.
- Good boy. I tell him.
I shake his paw and lower my hand. He snatches the potato and almost bites my finger. I look up on the table and see The Chicago News lying on the side of the table. I hear commercial on the TV.
- Can you believe it? This woman left her husband after three months of marriage and the guy gets so pissed at her that he takes her truck, the dog and in the middle of the night he sneaks over to her garden and digs up a tree that he bought for her and now she wants it all back. I can’t believe these people. You wonder where they come from, I mean the other day when I drove to Wegmans and this guy…
Garfield steal Jon’s hamburger, and Jon eats Garfield’s cat food as he switch the plates. Spiderman meet his own duplicate that some green little midget is controlling. Dennis is stealing apple from his neighbors.
I gather together a piece of meatloaf and potato. I put it on the fork and put it in my mouth.
- … he didn’t even care. I was so mad that steam came out of my ears…
Dilbert tries to sell a product over the phone as a salesman. The lady he talks to makes fun of the product, his company and him and tells him how much she despite the product. Dilbert says: “please mom?” I chuckle quietly to myself. I turn the page.
- … I mean was it really that hard to apologize, really? I mean if I would’ve…
Under Tonight in The Weather Report there is gray clouds with blue lines that goes from the bottom of the cloud to right above the text underneath it. “Chilly, a shower early”. Saturday: “Breezy with some sun.”
- … You know, there are so many jerk out there…
On Tuesday it says High: 95 degrees, Low: 75 degrees. And a big yellow sun is showed above it with only one little cloud in the top corner.
- … and when I went to the post office and stood in line I say this guy that lives further down the street, you know the guy that always stops me when I walk Billy and rambling on for hours…
The rest of the week is full of yellow suns and it’s getting pretty hot. I plan quickly in my head what I’m going to do those days. Go to the beach, skateboard with Mike and Matt or play basketball at Town Park. I put the last pieces of meatloaf on my fork and eat it.
- … and he was looking at me and I thought to myself: “please don’t talk to me” but of course he comes over and says “hi” and I’m thinking “Oh my god, someone kill me”…
I move the newspaper aside and push out my chair, take my plate and go to the sink.
- … and then he started rambling on about his crappy day and I tried to look as uninterested as possible but I think he was slow or something…
I put on the water, rinse my plate and put the dish and silverware in the dishwasher. As I erect, ready to walk out I glance out the window. The sky over the neighbors brown roof is light blue, almost white.
- … and I thought to myself “I don’t care that your mom is becoming senile or that she calls you twenty times a day…”
Billy walks in from the living room over to his water dish. It is almost empty. There are some light brown crumbs at the bottom. He dip his little head in the silver bowl and start slurping.
I walk over to the hall and grab my skateboard.
- … and he is going on and on and I told him “I’m sorry but can you please leave me alone”…
I take my gray, black Etnies shoes and put them on. I have to pull the back of the shoe over my heal real hard to get it in. The heal gets in and my thumb stings a little from being used as
a shoehorn. Mom is looking down in her food and plays with it as her mind travels away to what ever she is talking about.
- I’m going over to Mike’s, see you later. I tell mom without looking at her as I grab the handle ready to open the side door.
- … and I was ready to run out…
Mom gets quiet.
- What did you say? Where are you going? She asks me almost frenetic.
I open the door and as I walk out I grab my cap, laying on top of the brown wooden cabinet in the garage.
- To Mike’s. I shout back right before the door slams behind me.
I open the screen by the garage door and walk out. Dark clouds are coming in from the lake and the air is feeling moist and heavy. Two little boys are riding bikes up and down their driveway. A man with a Golden Retriever on a red leash is walking on the sidewalk towards me. The dog is sniffing the grass as he pulls the man forward, and he’s leaning back as he’s trying to slow the dog down. I walk out on the street and drop my skateboard on the dark gray concrete. A red truck is stopping by an intersection and then quickly accelerates. I put my left foot on the front of the board and stand still. The truck passes me and I look over my shoulder to see if any cars are coming. I turn my head back and push myself forward with my one foot on the board. The dog freeze as he hears the wheels rolling on the uneven street. The man looks up at me and then at the dog. As I pass the man and his companion the dog barks at me and pulls his owner towards me. He holds the dog back, almost strangles him. I pass them and keep going down the road. The hard plastic wheels against the concrete make a loud noise. My ears hurt from it, but still, it feels peacefully.
I flip my skateboard up and grab it by the front. I stand still for a while. I look at the wooden bench, engraved with phone numbers, phrases, dicks and names. It is real worn out. A tree is standing next to the bench, shading it from the sun. The grass is high around the leg of the bench but underneath and on the sides of it the grass is real low and I can feel the smell of new cut lawn. There is an old lady sitting on the other side of the park, smoking a cigarette.
Her eyes are fixed at a bunch of kids, sitting on the swings over at the playground right in front of her. The kids are laughing. The sky has become darker as the sun is setting and the clouds are gathering above the maples. I lean my skateboard on the bench and sit down. The surface is rougher than I remembered.
I look at the big light brown and yellow building on the other side of the creek by the road. The front is pointy like the shape of a mountain. There are light coming out of the windows to the left of the entrance. I see silhouettes of people in there. They walk around and make odd signs with their hands. Maybe they are doing a play or something. I used to be on the other side of that window, back when it still was fun going to youth group. When Kristina used to go. She stopped go the following week after I was over at her house that day.
The song is playing in my head. I feel her warm breath on my face. The number on the clock radio changes from 9:33 to 9:34. Her head turns and she breathes heavily. I close my eyes, pretending that I’m sleeping. I feel the bed rock as she turns in it. Her leg touches my leg and I get warm all over my body. The bed stops moving and it gets quiet. I stop breath and lay motionless. I feel her hand on my cheek. They are soft. Warm air is blowing on my face and I inhale it as discreet as I can. I can feel the heat from her body as she moves a little closer. I don’t know if we had been laying like that for ten seconds or five minutes but it feels good. I can’t let it go any further though. It’s getting so serious, I’m starting to feel trapped. I’m starting to feel affection so strong I’m almost incapable to control it. I twist my leg
lightly purposely and turn over on my back. I move my head away from her smooth hands and stretch my arms up above my head. I lay with closed eyes and take deep breaths.
- Hey sleepyhead. A pleasing, soft voice says.
I smile in a yawn, rub my eyes real intense and then open them slowly.
- Did you sleep well? Her beautiful voice asks me.
I turn my head and look at her. An angel is smiling back at me.
- Yeah I did. I answer in a low, rusty tone that I fake, making her believe that I’ve been a sleep for a while.
Her smile gets wider and she brushes her shiny hair behind her ear. We’re laying there looking in each others eyes. The silence doesn’t feel awkward at all, and I don’t think she thinks that either. I look at the clock, and then look back at her. She raises her eyebrows and gives me those sad dog eyes that I think are so cute. I smile to her.
I feel a vibration on my thigh. I put my hand down my pocket and take up my old scratchy cell phone and look at the lit up screen. It says “Mike”. A raindrop falls on my hand. It’s getting gloomy outside and the air is chilly. I let my hand rest on my knee and I look up toward the sky. A white sparkling dot has found its way through the masses of clouds and shines on me. I put the phone back in my pocket without lowering my head. It stops vibrating. There is a light breeze and I feel wet drops hit my face.
I remember the night so clearly. One year ago.
She sits up on her bed, with her head over her shoulders looking at me. Her eyes sparks like glowing stars and shines through her dark brown threads of silk. The candle on her nightstand illuminates her face and creates a small shadow on the side of her tiny nose.
- You got to go home, right? She asks me.
I nod to her with a serious face.
- Yeah, my mom is gonna kill me if I’m not. I say.
She turn around and stands up. I crawl over to the edge of the bed and stand up. Kristina blows out the candle and shadows are flicking, then it gets dark. I hear her walk toward the door and I follow with cautious steps. The light from underneath the door is crawling up on the side and lights up the walls, the desk and then Kristina’s white fitted T-shirt and her hair. I squint with my eyes and follow her as she walks out the door.
I flinch as my pocket starts to vibrate again. I look down on my thigh and the bump from the phone in my pocket. I look up again. The ducks splashing in the creek is the only thing that brakes the silence and I can see the silhouettes of the birds as they float together along the stream. The windows are dark by the church on the other side of the water and can no longer hear any kids laughing by the playground. I turn around and look across the park. I can see a yellow, orange glimmer from one of the old lady’s cigarettes as her profile is placed on the bench she has occupied. I turn back and disappear in my thoughts.
I’ll let her follow me on my way home. She walks slowly by me and I try to avoid her eyes as I see her watch me in the corner of my eye. It is a hot summer night and mosquitoes are buzzing in my ear. We are following the creek along the park and people are walking by us. Dandelions are standing proud as they have crawled up through the cracks in the sidewalk. Fireflies create a Milky Way in the center of the park as they fly above the dark grass where the crickets are playing with their jagged bows. A young couple is sitting, holding hands on
a bench looking at each other and don’t even notice us as we walk by. I glance at them and turn my head down again.
- That’s so cute, isn’t it? Kristina says.
I look up at her and she looks at me. She’s smiling. I turn my head down again and pretend that I’m in deep thoughts.
- Yeah it is. I reply silently.
I know what she is thinking, but I can’t be a part of that. I built my castle for one man, one man only. I’ve seen broken hearts way to often, I’ve felt it way too many times and I know this would be the most devastating damage I would ever experience. Everything is so beautiful though. The air is fresh and an orchestra of laugh, splashing water, buzzing wings and violins hiding in the grass are playing just for us. The bright moon is creating ghosts of ourselves on the ground that follows every move we make. I look up and stop abruptly as I see no one walk by me anymore. I turn around quickly and see Kristina stand behind me, looking at me.
- Do you wanna sit down for a while? She asks me and lean her head to a bench she’s standing next to.
I look at the bench and I look at her, shrug my shoulders and say;
- Sure.
She sits down and I walk over to her.
A squirrel runs up a tree by the creek and gray, yellow birds are singing on top of the crown.
I sit down and stretch my legs out and rest my arm on the back of the bench.
It is a beautiful day.
She moves closer to me and lean on my shoulder. A high squeak is sweeping above us and Kristina flinch her head close to mine.
- Don’t worry. It was just a bat that flew by. I tell her with a calm voice.
I lift my arm and let it hang above her shoulder. I slowly move it down, almost touching her but halt and put it back on the back of the bench again. She turns her head and look in to my eyes. My nose is touching the tip of her nose and she shakes her head from side to side real slow. I feel the warm breath from her mouth on my lips. She tilts her head aside and move her mouth closer to mine. The warm air is blowing on my lips more intense and a chill goes through my spine. Everything gets black. The people around us disappear, the moon is no longer above our heads and the orchestra dies out. Right at this moment we are all alone in the world and no one else exist anymore. I feel the heat from her blood, running through the veins inside the skin of her lips.
This was where everything could have changed. But it is too late now, a year later.
Suddenly I panic. I jerk my head back away from her. Away from those warm lips, away from her soothing breath, away from her. She looks at me with big eyes and a confused expression.
- What’s wrong? She asks.
I freeze. I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know why I hesitate. Thoughts are flashing around in my head and I feel I don’t have any control over myself.
- What is it? Kristina asks with a worried voice.
I look at the ducks as they walk around in the tall grass by the water. I look up at the crown of a maple that is leaning over the creek.
- I don’t know. I say in a low voice.
I know that she is staring at me, waiting for an answer but my mouth is all dry and stiff. I built my castle for just one man I’m thinking.
- I don’t think that we should see each other anymore. I hear come out of my mouth.
She is quiet and the orchestra is playing again. But it’s not music anymore, it’s just noise. Terrible noises everywhere. People who screams out ugly words, ducks fighting in the dark creek, bloodsucking mosquitoes that sharps their needles.
- Why? Kristina’s piercing voice asks.
I turn my head and look at her.
- Just go home, Kristina. I say.
A warm breeze sweeps my arms and makes Kristina’s hair swing back and forth. I can see how her eyes get all watery. Her chin crumples and her lips are squeezed tightly together. I look away, not because I’m cold but because I can’t stand see Kristina like she is now.
- Please Simon, tell me what’s wrong!? Kristina cries out with tears in her throat.
My lips are glued together with dry saliva and no matter how hard I try I can’t open my mouth. I sink down with the bench as the weight next to me removes itself. I sit still staring at the water that flows slowly downstream. The high grass bends in the wind and the maple’s leafs plays a song. Under a street lamp on the other side of the creek a man stands trying to lit a cigarette. A spider is crawling up my hand up toward my arm, dragging a thin thread behind him. The pain in my chest gets greater as I hear the foot steps disappear along the concrete path away from the bench. A rabbit jumps out of a bush by the church entrance, standing still, looking around and then jumps over to a little garden with pink and yellow flowers. It disappears in the plants. It gets quiet. The footsteps are gone and I turn my head after her to see if she’s in sight. A shadow under a street lamp moves away, out of the light and then disappears in the night.
A year later I sit here again, on the very same place where I did the biggest mistake of my life. The raindrops are falling down on my shoulders and change the before light gray fabric on my T-shirt into a dark gray and I feel how it sticks to my skin. A warm drop of salt falls down on my lap and unites itself with the water of the sky. I sink my head down and turn my head slightly to the right. Another tear is traveling down my cheek, loose its grip falls down and lands on my jeans.
I built my castle for just one man. That was what I told to myself every time I was afraid. A castle of strength with no one to rule but me. No pain, no disappointments, no betrayal. But it all was a lie, I know that now. A castle of sand, with no one to pick me up when it all comes down. We all need a place to call home. And with Kristina I felt like home, she was my home. I know that now when no one was there to pick me up.
I still see her once in a while, when I’m standing in a corner in blockbuster watching for the new released movies, she comes in with her two girlfriends, Sarah and Jessica. I see her on the passenger seat driving by with her mom on Main Street while I’m walking Billy. Some nights I see her sitting next to me by the bench in the park under the bright moon, leaning her head close to mine and kiss me. But as every night ends, so does the moon, the kiss and she.
“…when the summer dies and the muteness is mine. In the winter I stand hidden far in the bar and the time is passing. Month, year. And I’m falling, falling, falling…”.
As I hear that song I fall back right on her bed, lying right next to her. The fire attached to the braided wick is flicking, and give the room a gloomy, dimmed scene. I inhale her breath into my lungs, and open my eyes slowly to look at her beautiful face. She is laying close to me. Her eyes are closed, and she is breathing softly. I breathe in the smell from her shampoo. It has a fruity smell, mango I think. I lean my head closer to her, hoping that she would do the same so our lips, maybe, would accidentally touch each others. I look at the clock radio. Its green numbers are glowing on the surface of her dark-brown hair. It is ten after nine. My curfew is really nine o’clock so I know I have to get going soon, even though I don’t want to. I feel comfortable here in her bed. I want the time to stop. I want to be here forever by her side. Forever, always.
She is lying on her side with folded legs with her body facing mine, and mine facing her. Her stomach is growing as it was fills with my breath, and shrinks when the oxygen leave her lungs into my mouth. She appears so peacefully. Like a sleeping baby, so innocent, so pure. Everything feels so right. I wouldn’t like to be anywhere else but right here. I want to be filled with the inside of her. I want to embrace her, and never let go. I want to be connected to her beautiful house made of flesh and bone with thousand of unbreakable wires made out of a material that would last throughout the end of the world. When the pyramids are nothing but a pile of dirt, when the mountains are shattered to valleys, when the sun turns into a black hole, I want to be right there, laying on the top of her bedspread and watch her sleep.
I look up over her hair on the opposite wall of the room. Pictures, stuck with thumb tags are hanging between her desk and the door. I squint with my eyes, trying to see what it is. Kristina’s pretty smile is taking up the whole photograph, so that the girl she’s standing next to is barely noticed. Kristina looks happy. On an other picture she is holding a giant light brown teddy bear at, what it looks like, some amusement park. There is a Paris wheel in the background and her big sister is standing next to her holding two fingers behind Kristina’s head. I wonder if a picture of me will ever be on that wall.
Kristina jerk awake and I flinch, as I’m taken off guard. I look at her. In a flash she was as still as a rock again, sound asleep. Drool is running down her left cheek and is making a dark blue mark on the light blue bead spread. I smile, move my hand from behind my back toward her face. I wipe her cheek with my finger, and then rub the drool off my finger on the pillow my head is resting on to dry it. I look back at her. Her eyelids are twisting. Wonder what she’s dreaming about. I take my hand and let it float above her shoulder. I move it down along her side without touching her. I want to touch her. Show her that I care for her, that she is my everything. The gravity is strong. But I’m holding back. I built my castle for just one man, no one else. I can do it. I can’t show her how much she means to me. Even though she is so beautiful that it hurts.
I remember that moment as I was in it right now.
The song ends and another one starts. System of Down, but I can’t remember what the song is called. I take my headphones of my ears and let them rest on my shoulders. I look out the window and watch the cars flashing by as the bus is traveling the way toward school. The noise strikes me. In front of me two black guys with sunglasses are shouting at a girl, sitting in the front of the bus. She is ignoring them. Further back in the bus I can hear football jocks scream and laugh. On the opposite side of my seat a short, blonde guy is sitting, quietly, watching out the window.
- Duuude! Mike is yelling out.
I feel a firm grip on my shoulders from the seat behind me.
- Yo! I shouted back.
- Stevo, me, Matt and you are crashing Steph’s party tonight, man!
I turn my head back and he lets go of my back with his hands.
- Man, I can’t tonight. I gotta stay home and baby-sit my little brother.
- Dude, you’re a friggin’ loser? Mike replies.
- “Sitting home and baby-sit my little brother”. Dude, you gotta start livin’, man. He says.
As I’m turning back I say:
- What ever, man.
- Dude, you can’t miss this shit, man! We’re gonna have a crazy time over there, and you know it!
I look out the window as the bus turn in to the school property.
- Shut up Mike. I mumbled back to him.
Mike jumps from his seat onto mine.
- Simon! What’s wrong, man?
Mike pushes me with his shoulder lightly.
I turn my head, and look at him.
- I’m busy tonight, alright? I said, a bit annoyed.
Mike jerks back, with his palms up in the air like he surrender.
- Ok, ok. Chill, man. What ever you gotta do, you gotta do. But I’ll call you if you’ll have time later on, aaight?
- Sure, that’s cool. I said.
We started walking out of the bus and in through the main entrance of Randolph Central High School. It was a nice day outside. Finally it’s Friday.
46-35-26. I push up the handle and pull the locker door out. I grab my bag and take my skateboard under my arm. I slam the locker and start pushing myself through the crowd of students walking out of school. As I walk out of the door that a tall, slender girl in front of me is holding up on her way out the warmth of the sun hit my face and I’m forced to squint my eyes.
- Dude, aren’t you goin’ with the bus!? I hear someone shout as I’m walking pass the yellow school buses that are parked by the curb outside the main entrance .
I look up to the window of my bus and I see Mike’s head stick out of one of them.
- Nuh, I’m gonna ride the board home today. I tell him.
- You’re a fuckin’ loser, man.
I give him the finger and smile as I keep walking. He makes a funny face and pull in his head as the driver is screaming at him.
I put my hand down my pocket and take up my iPod. I put my headphones on my ears. A girl from my math class is waving at me from the inside of a bus window. I wave back and smile.
I put on our song. Kristina’s and my song.
I’m in her room, lying right next to her, watching her. She takes a deep breath. Her little tummy is sticking out from her fitted T-shirt and it seems so cuddly that I just want to squeeze it. I want to put my teeth on her love handles and chew on them. I want to grab her thighs and pierce my fingers through her dark blue jeans, rub my head between those gorgeous breasts. I want to purse my lips and lean forward two inches and just kiss her.
But the door to my castle has to remain closed. I’m not going to give in. I know that if I would ever loose this perfect human being I would never survive. Stay back and stay safe. I can’t let
such a thing as affection effect me. I wouldn’t just get hurt; I would be torn up inside out. Is it worth it?
I slam the door as I walk in the hallway and throw my skateboard in the corner where shoes are laying disorganized. Billy runs to me and put his paws on my leg half standing. I bend down and pet his white furry head.
- Hi buddy! How you’re doin’? how you’re doin’? I erect and Billy steps down and runs to his food bowl.
- You wanna eat, huh? Nop, not until six o’clock, you know that. I say as I hang up my bag on a hook.
Billy sits down by his bowl and lifts his right paw, waiting for me to come over and shake it.
- Silly Billy. I say as a walk passed him in to my room.
I hear the clicking from his paws on the tile floor follow me. I close the door and it gets quiet on the other side of the door. I take my head phones of my shoulders, grab my iPod and put it on my desk. Clicking sound is moving away from the door into the kitchen again. I lay down on my bed and take a deep, quick breath.
- Simon!? Are you in there?
I open my eyes, turn my head and look at the clock radio on the night stand.
- Yeah, I’m here! I shout back.
I was out for more than two hours. The sun is illuminating the room as its rays shines in through my small square window above my dresser. I sit up on the side of the bed and rub the sleep out of my eyes.
- The food is ready if you want any, Simon! The voice comes from the kitchen.
I smell fried onions, and some kind of meat.
- Yeah, I’m coming. I reply.
I stand up and walk over to my mirror, hanging on the door. My gray Element T-shirt is all wrinkled. I brush my hand over it to straight it out. I hear footsteps coming from the kitchen toward my door. It gets quiet.
- If you want any food its ready now. The voice is right by my door.
- I hear you mom! I yell out. It gets quiet.
I brush my bang to the side and press the hair that stands out on the side down to the scalp.
Footsteps are moving in to the kitchen.
I open the door and see my mom leaning against the wall watching the TV in the living room while she holds her plate with meat loaf, potato and vegetables. I walk over to the table and pulls it out. My mom turns around quickly, slams the plate into the wall and almost drops the food.
- Uh! You scared me. She breathes out and put her hand on her chest.
I sit down on the chair and start fills my plate.
- So how was school? She asks.
I can hear Judge Judy on the TV in the living room. I take a sip of milk to get the piece of meat down my throat.
- Good. I reply.
She turns around and watches the TV.
Billy walks over to the side of my chair and puts his paws on my lap. I put my fork in a potato and cut of a small piece. Billy hops down and walk around in a circle. He is crying in a low tone. I take the piece of potato in my hand and holds it above Billy. He sits down and lift his paw.
- Good boy. I tell him.
I shake his paw and lower my hand. He snatches the potato and almost bites my finger. I look up on the table and see The Chicago News lying on the side of the table. I hear commercial on the TV.
- Can you believe it? This woman left her husband after three months of marriage and the guy gets so pissed at her that he takes her truck, the dog and in the middle of the night he sneaks over to her garden and digs up a tree that he bought for her and now she wants it all back. I can’t believe these people. You wonder where they come from, I mean the other day when I drove to Wegmans and this guy…
Garfield steal Jon’s hamburger, and Jon eats Garfield’s cat food as he switch the plates. Spiderman meet his own duplicate that some green little midget is controlling. Dennis is stealing apple from his neighbors.
I gather together a piece of meatloaf and potato. I put it on the fork and put it in my mouth.
- … he didn’t even care. I was so mad that steam came out of my ears…
Dilbert tries to sell a product over the phone as a salesman. The lady he talks to makes fun of the product, his company and him and tells him how much she despite the product. Dilbert says: “please mom?” I chuckle quietly to myself. I turn the page.
- … I mean was it really that hard to apologize, really? I mean if I would’ve…
Under Tonight in The Weather Report there is gray clouds with blue lines that goes from the bottom of the cloud to right above the text underneath it. “Chilly, a shower early”. Saturday: “Breezy with some sun.”
- … You know, there are so many jerk out there…
On Tuesday it says High: 95 degrees, Low: 75 degrees. And a big yellow sun is showed above it with only one little cloud in the top corner.
- … and when I went to the post office and stood in line I say this guy that lives further down the street, you know the guy that always stops me when I walk Billy and rambling on for hours…
The rest of the week is full of yellow suns and it’s getting pretty hot. I plan quickly in my head what I’m going to do those days. Go to the beach, skateboard with Mike and Matt or play basketball at Town Park. I put the last pieces of meatloaf on my fork and eat it.
- … and he was looking at me and I thought to myself: “please don’t talk to me” but of course he comes over and says “hi” and I’m thinking “Oh my god, someone kill me”…
I move the newspaper aside and push out my chair, take my plate and go to the sink.
- … and then he started rambling on about his crappy day and I tried to look as uninterested as possible but I think he was slow or something…
I put on the water, rinse my plate and put the dish and silverware in the dishwasher. As I erect, ready to walk out I glance out the window. The sky over the neighbors brown roof is light blue, almost white.
- … and I thought to myself “I don’t care that your mom is becoming senile or that she calls you twenty times a day…”
Billy walks in from the living room over to his water dish. It is almost empty. There are some light brown crumbs at the bottom. He dip his little head in the silver bowl and start slurping.
I walk over to the hall and grab my skateboard.
- … and he is going on and on and I told him “I’m sorry but can you please leave me alone”…
I take my gray, black Etnies shoes and put them on. I have to pull the back of the shoe over my heal real hard to get it in. The heal gets in and my thumb stings a little from being used as
a shoehorn. Mom is looking down in her food and plays with it as her mind travels away to what ever she is talking about.
- I’m going over to Mike’s, see you later. I tell mom without looking at her as I grab the handle ready to open the side door.
- … and I was ready to run out…
Mom gets quiet.
- What did you say? Where are you going? She asks me almost frenetic.
I open the door and as I walk out I grab my cap, laying on top of the brown wooden cabinet in the garage.
- To Mike’s. I shout back right before the door slams behind me.
I open the screen by the garage door and walk out. Dark clouds are coming in from the lake and the air is feeling moist and heavy. Two little boys are riding bikes up and down their driveway. A man with a Golden Retriever on a red leash is walking on the sidewalk towards me. The dog is sniffing the grass as he pulls the man forward, and he’s leaning back as he’s trying to slow the dog down. I walk out on the street and drop my skateboard on the dark gray concrete. A red truck is stopping by an intersection and then quickly accelerates. I put my left foot on the front of the board and stand still. The truck passes me and I look over my shoulder to see if any cars are coming. I turn my head back and push myself forward with my one foot on the board. The dog freeze as he hears the wheels rolling on the uneven street. The man looks up at me and then at the dog. As I pass the man and his companion the dog barks at me and pulls his owner towards me. He holds the dog back, almost strangles him. I pass them and keep going down the road. The hard plastic wheels against the concrete make a loud noise. My ears hurt from it, but still, it feels peacefully.
I flip my skateboard up and grab it by the front. I stand still for a while. I look at the wooden bench, engraved with phone numbers, phrases, dicks and names. It is real worn out. A tree is standing next to the bench, shading it from the sun. The grass is high around the leg of the bench but underneath and on the sides of it the grass is real low and I can feel the smell of new cut lawn. There is an old lady sitting on the other side of the park, smoking a cigarette.
Her eyes are fixed at a bunch of kids, sitting on the swings over at the playground right in front of her. The kids are laughing. The sky has become darker as the sun is setting and the clouds are gathering above the maples. I lean my skateboard on the bench and sit down. The surface is rougher than I remembered.
I look at the big light brown and yellow building on the other side of the creek by the road. The front is pointy like the shape of a mountain. There are light coming out of the windows to the left of the entrance. I see silhouettes of people in there. They walk around and make odd signs with their hands. Maybe they are doing a play or something. I used to be on the other side of that window, back when it still was fun going to youth group. When Kristina used to go. She stopped go the following week after I was over at her house that day.
The song is playing in my head. I feel her warm breath on my face. The number on the clock radio changes from 9:33 to 9:34. Her head turns and she breathes heavily. I close my eyes, pretending that I’m sleeping. I feel the bed rock as she turns in it. Her leg touches my leg and I get warm all over my body. The bed stops moving and it gets quiet. I stop breath and lay motionless. I feel her hand on my cheek. They are soft. Warm air is blowing on my face and I inhale it as discreet as I can. I can feel the heat from her body as she moves a little closer. I don’t know if we had been laying like that for ten seconds or five minutes but it feels good. I can’t let it go any further though. It’s getting so serious, I’m starting to feel trapped. I’m starting to feel affection so strong I’m almost incapable to control it. I twist my leg
lightly purposely and turn over on my back. I move my head away from her smooth hands and stretch my arms up above my head. I lay with closed eyes and take deep breaths.
- Hey sleepyhead. A pleasing, soft voice says.
I smile in a yawn, rub my eyes real intense and then open them slowly.
- Did you sleep well? Her beautiful voice asks me.
I turn my head and look at her. An angel is smiling back at me.
- Yeah I did. I answer in a low, rusty tone that I fake, making her believe that I’ve been a sleep for a while.
Her smile gets wider and she brushes her shiny hair behind her ear. We’re laying there looking in each others eyes. The silence doesn’t feel awkward at all, and I don’t think she thinks that either. I look at the clock, and then look back at her. She raises her eyebrows and gives me those sad dog eyes that I think are so cute. I smile to her.
I feel a vibration on my thigh. I put my hand down my pocket and take up my old scratchy cell phone and look at the lit up screen. It says “Mike”. A raindrop falls on my hand. It’s getting gloomy outside and the air is chilly. I let my hand rest on my knee and I look up toward the sky. A white sparkling dot has found its way through the masses of clouds and shines on me. I put the phone back in my pocket without lowering my head. It stops vibrating. There is a light breeze and I feel wet drops hit my face.
I remember the night so clearly. One year ago.
She sits up on her bed, with her head over her shoulders looking at me. Her eyes sparks like glowing stars and shines through her dark brown threads of silk. The candle on her nightstand illuminates her face and creates a small shadow on the side of her tiny nose.
- You got to go home, right? She asks me.
I nod to her with a serious face.
- Yeah, my mom is gonna kill me if I’m not. I say.
She turn around and stands up. I crawl over to the edge of the bed and stand up. Kristina blows out the candle and shadows are flicking, then it gets dark. I hear her walk toward the door and I follow with cautious steps. The light from underneath the door is crawling up on the side and lights up the walls, the desk and then Kristina’s white fitted T-shirt and her hair. I squint with my eyes and follow her as she walks out the door.
I flinch as my pocket starts to vibrate again. I look down on my thigh and the bump from the phone in my pocket. I look up again. The ducks splashing in the creek is the only thing that brakes the silence and I can see the silhouettes of the birds as they float together along the stream. The windows are dark by the church on the other side of the water and can no longer hear any kids laughing by the playground. I turn around and look across the park. I can see a yellow, orange glimmer from one of the old lady’s cigarettes as her profile is placed on the bench she has occupied. I turn back and disappear in my thoughts.
I’ll let her follow me on my way home. She walks slowly by me and I try to avoid her eyes as I see her watch me in the corner of my eye. It is a hot summer night and mosquitoes are buzzing in my ear. We are following the creek along the park and people are walking by us. Dandelions are standing proud as they have crawled up through the cracks in the sidewalk. Fireflies create a Milky Way in the center of the park as they fly above the dark grass where the crickets are playing with their jagged bows. A young couple is sitting, holding hands on
a bench looking at each other and don’t even notice us as we walk by. I glance at them and turn my head down again.
- That’s so cute, isn’t it? Kristina says.
I look up at her and she looks at me. She’s smiling. I turn my head down again and pretend that I’m in deep thoughts.
- Yeah it is. I reply silently.
I know what she is thinking, but I can’t be a part of that. I built my castle for one man, one man only. I’ve seen broken hearts way to often, I’ve felt it way too many times and I know this would be the most devastating damage I would ever experience. Everything is so beautiful though. The air is fresh and an orchestra of laugh, splashing water, buzzing wings and violins hiding in the grass are playing just for us. The bright moon is creating ghosts of ourselves on the ground that follows every move we make. I look up and stop abruptly as I see no one walk by me anymore. I turn around quickly and see Kristina stand behind me, looking at me.
- Do you wanna sit down for a while? She asks me and lean her head to a bench she’s standing next to.
I look at the bench and I look at her, shrug my shoulders and say;
- Sure.
She sits down and I walk over to her.
A squirrel runs up a tree by the creek and gray, yellow birds are singing on top of the crown.
I sit down and stretch my legs out and rest my arm on the back of the bench.
It is a beautiful day.
She moves closer to me and lean on my shoulder. A high squeak is sweeping above us and Kristina flinch her head close to mine.
- Don’t worry. It was just a bat that flew by. I tell her with a calm voice.
I lift my arm and let it hang above her shoulder. I slowly move it down, almost touching her but halt and put it back on the back of the bench again. She turns her head and look in to my eyes. My nose is touching the tip of her nose and she shakes her head from side to side real slow. I feel the warm breath from her mouth on my lips. She tilts her head aside and move her mouth closer to mine. The warm air is blowing on my lips more intense and a chill goes through my spine. Everything gets black. The people around us disappear, the moon is no longer above our heads and the orchestra dies out. Right at this moment we are all alone in the world and no one else exist anymore. I feel the heat from her blood, running through the veins inside the skin of her lips.
This was where everything could have changed. But it is too late now, a year later.
Suddenly I panic. I jerk my head back away from her. Away from those warm lips, away from her soothing breath, away from her. She looks at me with big eyes and a confused expression.
- What’s wrong? She asks.
I freeze. I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know why I hesitate. Thoughts are flashing around in my head and I feel I don’t have any control over myself.
- What is it? Kristina asks with a worried voice.
I look at the ducks as they walk around in the tall grass by the water. I look up at the crown of a maple that is leaning over the creek.
- I don’t know. I say in a low voice.
I know that she is staring at me, waiting for an answer but my mouth is all dry and stiff. I built my castle for just one man I’m thinking.
- I don’t think that we should see each other anymore. I hear come out of my mouth.
She is quiet and the orchestra is playing again. But it’s not music anymore, it’s just noise. Terrible noises everywhere. People who screams out ugly words, ducks fighting in the dark creek, bloodsucking mosquitoes that sharps their needles.
- Why? Kristina’s piercing voice asks.
I turn my head and look at her.
- Just go home, Kristina. I say.
A warm breeze sweeps my arms and makes Kristina’s hair swing back and forth. I can see how her eyes get all watery. Her chin crumples and her lips are squeezed tightly together. I look away, not because I’m cold but because I can’t stand see Kristina like she is now.
- Please Simon, tell me what’s wrong!? Kristina cries out with tears in her throat.
My lips are glued together with dry saliva and no matter how hard I try I can’t open my mouth. I sink down with the bench as the weight next to me removes itself. I sit still staring at the water that flows slowly downstream. The high grass bends in the wind and the maple’s leafs plays a song. Under a street lamp on the other side of the creek a man stands trying to lit a cigarette. A spider is crawling up my hand up toward my arm, dragging a thin thread behind him. The pain in my chest gets greater as I hear the foot steps disappear along the concrete path away from the bench. A rabbit jumps out of a bush by the church entrance, standing still, looking around and then jumps over to a little garden with pink and yellow flowers. It disappears in the plants. It gets quiet. The footsteps are gone and I turn my head after her to see if she’s in sight. A shadow under a street lamp moves away, out of the light and then disappears in the night.
A year later I sit here again, on the very same place where I did the biggest mistake of my life. The raindrops are falling down on my shoulders and change the before light gray fabric on my T-shirt into a dark gray and I feel how it sticks to my skin. A warm drop of salt falls down on my lap and unites itself with the water of the sky. I sink my head down and turn my head slightly to the right. Another tear is traveling down my cheek, loose its grip falls down and lands on my jeans.
I built my castle for just one man. That was what I told to myself every time I was afraid. A castle of strength with no one to rule but me. No pain, no disappointments, no betrayal. But it all was a lie, I know that now. A castle of sand, with no one to pick me up when it all comes down. We all need a place to call home. And with Kristina I felt like home, she was my home. I know that now when no one was there to pick me up.
I still see her once in a while, when I’m standing in a corner in blockbuster watching for the new released movies, she comes in with her two girlfriends, Sarah and Jessica. I see her on the passenger seat driving by with her mom on Main Street while I’m walking Billy. Some nights I see her sitting next to me by the bench in the park under the bright moon, leaning her head close to mine and kiss me. But as every night ends, so does the moon, the kiss and she.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Exam project.. (in progress)
A moment I wish I could freeze
(Part II)
“…when the summer dies and the muteness is mine. In the winter I stand hidden far in the bar, and the time is passing. Months, years. And I’m falling, falling, falling…”.
Every time I hear that song I fall back in her bed, laying next to her. The fire attached to the braided wick is flicking and gives the room a gloomy, dimmed scene. I inhale her breath into my lungs. I open my eyes slowly and look at her beautiful face. She is laying close to me. her eyes are closed, and she’s breathing softly. I breath in the smell from her shampoo. It has a fruity smell, mango I think. I lean my head closer to her, hoping that she would do the same so our lips would accidentally touch each others. I look at the clock radio. Its green numbers are glowing on the surface of the her dark-brown hair. It’s ten after nine. My bus is leaving from the hospital stop quarter to ten, which is a fifteen minute walk.
I want the time to stop. I want to be here forever by her side. Forever, always.
She’s laying on her side with folded legs with her body facing mine. Her stomach is growing as it fills with my breath, and shrinks when the oxygen leaves her lungs into my mouth. She’s breathing so peacefully. I want to eat the air used by her. I want to be filled with the inside of her. I want to embrace her, and never let go. I want to be connected to her beautiful house made of flesh and bone with thousand of unbreakable wires made out of a material that would last throughout the end of the world.
When the pyramids are nothing but a pile of dirt, when the mountains are shattered to valleys, when the sun turns into a black hole, when the Gods are laying in their graves made of clouds, I want to be by her side.
Nothing can ruin this moment. This beautiful, innocent, breathtaking moment. A moment made of the most fragile glass, but still as solid as the foundation of a mountain. A mountain that can be collapsed only by her. She’s banking on the gate that leads to my heart. I’m standing with my ear by the door, listening and holding the handle ready to open it for her. But I’m thinking. I don’t want to think. all I want to do is to lean my head two inches, purse my lips and kiss her. Move out of my comfort zone and embrace the terrifying, unknown consequences.
But I’m afraid.
(Part II)
“…when the summer dies and the muteness is mine. In the winter I stand hidden far in the bar, and the time is passing. Months, years. And I’m falling, falling, falling…”.
Every time I hear that song I fall back in her bed, laying next to her. The fire attached to the braided wick is flicking and gives the room a gloomy, dimmed scene. I inhale her breath into my lungs. I open my eyes slowly and look at her beautiful face. She is laying close to me. her eyes are closed, and she’s breathing softly. I breath in the smell from her shampoo. It has a fruity smell, mango I think. I lean my head closer to her, hoping that she would do the same so our lips would accidentally touch each others. I look at the clock radio. Its green numbers are glowing on the surface of the her dark-brown hair. It’s ten after nine. My bus is leaving from the hospital stop quarter to ten, which is a fifteen minute walk.
I want the time to stop. I want to be here forever by her side. Forever, always.
She’s laying on her side with folded legs with her body facing mine. Her stomach is growing as it fills with my breath, and shrinks when the oxygen leaves her lungs into my mouth. She’s breathing so peacefully. I want to eat the air used by her. I want to be filled with the inside of her. I want to embrace her, and never let go. I want to be connected to her beautiful house made of flesh and bone with thousand of unbreakable wires made out of a material that would last throughout the end of the world.
When the pyramids are nothing but a pile of dirt, when the mountains are shattered to valleys, when the sun turns into a black hole, when the Gods are laying in their graves made of clouds, I want to be by her side.
Nothing can ruin this moment. This beautiful, innocent, breathtaking moment. A moment made of the most fragile glass, but still as solid as the foundation of a mountain. A mountain that can be collapsed only by her. She’s banking on the gate that leads to my heart. I’m standing with my ear by the door, listening and holding the handle ready to open it for her. But I’m thinking. I don’t want to think. all I want to do is to lean my head two inches, purse my lips and kiss her. Move out of my comfort zone and embrace the terrifying, unknown consequences.
But I’m afraid.
Friday, June 02, 2006
for newspaper
Reform, rehabilitation, positive change. Aren’t these the goals of the federal bureau of prisons? But proven by the execution of Stanley “Tookie” Williams on December 13, 2005, all of this is just something to add to the long list of lies that America has been feeding us for countless years. There was no denying the complete change that “Tookie” has accomplished. He co-founded the nationally known Crips gang in 1971. But in recent years he has written nine children’s books to educate young people and initiated the Tookie peace protocol, an international peer mentoring program. He also wrote letters to incarcerated youth, mentored over the phone and through visits to stop people from making the same choices he did. But all of this either went unnoticed or purposefully pushed aside by the powers that be. In this case the terminator. What a fitting name for his role in this situation. Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger was the only person who could grant Stanley clemency. Clemency is a request for mercy, not to impose the death penalty, but instead life without parole. For whatever reasons governor Schwarzenegger chose not to intervene. I believe with this execution, they were trying to set an example. But what kind of message are they trying to send? No matter what you do you will still be a pawn in the system, so know your role. Because of their own ignorance, some people are tired of hearing about the true issues of class and race so I won’t even go into them. Despite them being the most influential factors of this problem. However these are basic human rights being tossed aside and stepped on. In 1981 he was convicted of murdering four people during two robberies. Even though proclaiming his innocence, all of the witnesses facing felony charges of their own, and no physical evidence pointed toward him. He was still found guilty by a jury of his “peers”. This by the way only consisted of two minorities, neither black. After his tremendous work for the betterment of the urban community, and his obvious transformation, why his case couldn’t be reviewed and he be sentenced to life in jail. I mean the man received the presidential call to service award in 2005 and was a five time Nobel Peace Prize nominee. Five time! At this point was the death penalty really necessary, is my big question. I’m out stating my opinion on the death penalty, I just believe in this situation it was the wrong decision. Life would be punishment enough. Jail is not fun, no one wants to be there. He would still be paying with his life, but still contributing positively to society as he was doing. He could have been used as a resource to why people join gangs and help create more prevention programs. Unfortunately instead of the lives that he supposedly took another has been taken.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
portrait
It’s sort of one of those things that you really just can’t explain. Sort of like why Seinfeld reruns are still funny, 45 years after the show ended. Or like suffering through a horrible hangover Sunday morning and swearing you’ll never drink again, only to do it all over the next Saturday night. That’s my relationship with my mother. There’s a love there, a pull, that always seems to bring me back to her, no matter how hard and how far I try to pull myself back.
When my mother was young, her only aspiration was to be a mom. Not a Mother, but a mom. Sure, she wanted to win an Oscar someday and she wanted to be a writer and she wanted to have lunch in Paris with Ani DiFranco and Peter Murphy, before heading over to photograph Morrison’s grave but these were dreams she knew she would never reach. Having kids seemed a somewhat less difficult task. Most of her friends grew tired of her losing her train of thought in the middle of a sentence when passing a young woman pushing a stroller or catching a glance of a father spoon feeding his 11 month old some pear flavored mush out of a tiny glass jar.
And I can’t say that she was a bad mother exactly. She wasn’t. She loves her kids more than anything. Especially herself. But that only goes so far when you have to live with her. It’s just the little things about her that drive you crazy. The little “quirks” that make up her personality. The first time I rebelled, really tried to actually do something for the sole purpose of pissing her off, was when I was only 8 years old. The small white bookshelf in my room, the one that was in between the closet and the door to the hall, was for Richard Scarry, Shel Silverstein, and Dr. Suess only. Everything else was on the two pink bookshelves against the walls. Everything was symmetrical. Everything was alphabetical. Everything was in order. I don’t remember what set me off – probably Andrew getting the rest of the strawberry ice cream because he was younger and didn’t understand that vanilla was still ice cream and just as good – but I couldn’t take the order anymore. I started small. The Giving Tree was put in the spot where The Cat in The Hat belonged. Then The Little Piece Of The Big O went in the spot where What Do People Do All Day belonged. At 39 years old, I know now that this is sort of ridiculous but the feeling was exhilarating. I hadn’t just changed the order of the books on my bookshelf. I had defied my mother. I couldn’t stop there. Ten minutes later the pillows were at the other end of my bed, the posters were uneven, and I had rearranged my curtains from pink white pink white pink to white pink white pink pink. My first taste of anarchy.
Standing in the middle of my bedroom, looking at my creation, my masterpiece, I couldn’t help but smile. My expression has never changed quicker than it did when I heard the footsteps on the stairs outside my room. Locking my door, I looked at my room again. The accomplishment I had felt moments before turned to nausea. My mom called my name at the same time as I dove on my bed, frantically placing pillows back in their righteous place at the head of the bed. When my mother called my name from outside the door, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t decide what to fix next.
I yelled out that I was cleaning my room and I wanted it to be a surprise for her and daddy so could she please go away for a few minutes. And she told me that she didn’t like my door being locked and that as soon as I finished I had better unlock it, and she walked away. The panic left me, but the sickness didn’t. I finished cleaning my room slowly, and unlocked, but didn’t open the door. At eight years old I couldn’t stand up to her even with something as trivial as the color arrangement of my curtains. And at thirty-nine, I still don’t think I could. When she comes over, everything has to be perfect. Not because I want to impress her with my collection of vintage French wine posters, but because I don’t want to disappoint her with them being slightly off kilter.
When my mother was young, her only aspiration was to be a mom. Not a Mother, but a mom. Sure, she wanted to win an Oscar someday and she wanted to be a writer and she wanted to have lunch in Paris with Ani DiFranco and Peter Murphy, before heading over to photograph Morrison’s grave but these were dreams she knew she would never reach. Having kids seemed a somewhat less difficult task. Most of her friends grew tired of her losing her train of thought in the middle of a sentence when passing a young woman pushing a stroller or catching a glance of a father spoon feeding his 11 month old some pear flavored mush out of a tiny glass jar.
And I can’t say that she was a bad mother exactly. She wasn’t. She loves her kids more than anything. Especially herself. But that only goes so far when you have to live with her. It’s just the little things about her that drive you crazy. The little “quirks” that make up her personality. The first time I rebelled, really tried to actually do something for the sole purpose of pissing her off, was when I was only 8 years old. The small white bookshelf in my room, the one that was in between the closet and the door to the hall, was for Richard Scarry, Shel Silverstein, and Dr. Suess only. Everything else was on the two pink bookshelves against the walls. Everything was symmetrical. Everything was alphabetical. Everything was in order. I don’t remember what set me off – probably Andrew getting the rest of the strawberry ice cream because he was younger and didn’t understand that vanilla was still ice cream and just as good – but I couldn’t take the order anymore. I started small. The Giving Tree was put in the spot where The Cat in The Hat belonged. Then The Little Piece Of The Big O went in the spot where What Do People Do All Day belonged. At 39 years old, I know now that this is sort of ridiculous but the feeling was exhilarating. I hadn’t just changed the order of the books on my bookshelf. I had defied my mother. I couldn’t stop there. Ten minutes later the pillows were at the other end of my bed, the posters were uneven, and I had rearranged my curtains from pink white pink white pink to white pink white pink pink. My first taste of anarchy.
Standing in the middle of my bedroom, looking at my creation, my masterpiece, I couldn’t help but smile. My expression has never changed quicker than it did when I heard the footsteps on the stairs outside my room. Locking my door, I looked at my room again. The accomplishment I had felt moments before turned to nausea. My mom called my name at the same time as I dove on my bed, frantically placing pillows back in their righteous place at the head of the bed. When my mother called my name from outside the door, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t decide what to fix next.
I yelled out that I was cleaning my room and I wanted it to be a surprise for her and daddy so could she please go away for a few minutes. And she told me that she didn’t like my door being locked and that as soon as I finished I had better unlock it, and she walked away. The panic left me, but the sickness didn’t. I finished cleaning my room slowly, and unlocked, but didn’t open the door. At eight years old I couldn’t stand up to her even with something as trivial as the color arrangement of my curtains. And at thirty-nine, I still don’t think I could. When she comes over, everything has to be perfect. Not because I want to impress her with my collection of vintage French wine posters, but because I don’t want to disappoint her with them being slightly off kilter.
Monday, May 15, 2006
leah's
Voices in the Hall
Expressing Yourself
Marty Wilke
1. What two articles of clothing that you’re wearing right now express your style the most?
My shoes because I’m emo and I have emo shoes and my hair because I wouldn’t be me without my hair.
2. What do you do in your free time that you feel really expresses you?
Listen to music, play guitar, and pretend I can skateboard.
3. Are there any ways that you express or celebrate your heritage?
I eat spaghetti because I’m Italian.
Caitlyn Rutski
1. What two articles of clothing that you’re wearing right now express your style the most?
My skirt because it looks cute and I like how it fits and my flip flops because I like to “skate” in the hall and they’re comfortable.
2. What do you do in your free time that you feel really expresses you?
Listen to music, sing, ands play my guitar.
3. Are there any ways that you express or celebrate your heritage?
I eat Borsch on Easter. It’s a polish soup.
Sam Sullivan
1. What two articles of clothing that you’re wearing right now express your style the most?
My sweatshirt because it’s from 6 flags and I used to work there and my purse because it’s fun, colorful, and wild.
2. What do you do in your free time that you feel really expresses you?
I stay busy because I hate to be bored. I have 2 jobs, in band and on year book.
3. Are there any ways that you express or celebrate your heritage?
I’m a mutt. My family doesn’t really celebrate culture, we celebrate family traditions.
April Nader
1. What two articles of clothing that you’re wearing right now express your style the most?
My shirt because it has a cat on it and I love cats and a snowflake because we live in buffalo and my necklace because my dad got it for me and it says April on it.
2. What do you do in your free time that you feel really expresses you?
I play on swings and ride bikes.
3. Are there any ways that you express or celebrate your heritage?
I eat pierogi on Christmas.
Expressing Yourself
Marty Wilke
1. What two articles of clothing that you’re wearing right now express your style the most?
My shoes because I’m emo and I have emo shoes and my hair because I wouldn’t be me without my hair.
2. What do you do in your free time that you feel really expresses you?
Listen to music, play guitar, and pretend I can skateboard.
3. Are there any ways that you express or celebrate your heritage?
I eat spaghetti because I’m Italian.
Caitlyn Rutski
1. What two articles of clothing that you’re wearing right now express your style the most?
My skirt because it looks cute and I like how it fits and my flip flops because I like to “skate” in the hall and they’re comfortable.
2. What do you do in your free time that you feel really expresses you?
Listen to music, sing, ands play my guitar.
3. Are there any ways that you express or celebrate your heritage?
I eat Borsch on Easter. It’s a polish soup.
Sam Sullivan
1. What two articles of clothing that you’re wearing right now express your style the most?
My sweatshirt because it’s from 6 flags and I used to work there and my purse because it’s fun, colorful, and wild.
2. What do you do in your free time that you feel really expresses you?
I stay busy because I hate to be bored. I have 2 jobs, in band and on year book.
3. Are there any ways that you express or celebrate your heritage?
I’m a mutt. My family doesn’t really celebrate culture, we celebrate family traditions.
April Nader
1. What two articles of clothing that you’re wearing right now express your style the most?
My shirt because it has a cat on it and I love cats and a snowflake because we live in buffalo and my necklace because my dad got it for me and it says April on it.
2. What do you do in your free time that you feel really expresses you?
I play on swings and ride bikes.
3. Are there any ways that you express or celebrate your heritage?
I eat pierogi on Christmas.
My Subtotal Life
Number of earrings purchased; 50
Number of earrings stolen; 0
Number of fights; 7
Number of brothers died; 1, sisters; 1
Number of cars owned; me;0 grandma; 2 grandfather; 3
Number of times i fell down the stairs; 10
Number of arguements; 1000
Number of times i loved my father; 0
Number of parties i attended; 20
Number of times i wish i was dead; 3
Number of times i crashed into a car; 1, car hit me; 0
Number of times i purchased clothes; too many times
Number of times i attended a funeral; 5
Number of times i went to church; 15
Number of times my mom disappeared out of my life; 7
Number of times i read books; 50
Number of times i thought i had an imaginary friend; until i was 8 years old
Number of times i was pregnant; 1, abortion; 1
Number of times i traveled; 20
Number of times i kissed; 100, boys; 2, girls; 0 (never will)
Number of times i been married; 0, engaged; 0
Number of times i had a dream about jumping from the very top of a flight of stairs; too many to keep track of
Number of times i been to the mall; 2000
Number of lost friends; 5
Number of friends i have; 10
Number of times i didn't follow rules;50 (always, still don't now)
Number of times i lied; 100, grandma; 20, grandfather; 80
Number of times i prepared a meal; 15
Number of real relationships; 2
Number of times i cheated; 0, cheated on; 1
Number of times i drunk alochol; lost track of mind
Number of times i went to jail; 0
Number of times i smoked weed; 5
Number of schools attented; 3
Number of times i went to the nail shop; 20
Number of computers owned; 2
Number of times i babysitted; 100
Number of times i went skating; 25
Number of times i wore makeup; 1
Number of times i been called a bitch; plenty of times; calling someone a bitch; all the time
Number of earrings stolen; 0
Number of fights; 7
Number of brothers died; 1, sisters; 1
Number of cars owned; me;0 grandma; 2 grandfather; 3
Number of times i fell down the stairs; 10
Number of arguements; 1000
Number of times i loved my father; 0
Number of parties i attended; 20
Number of times i wish i was dead; 3
Number of times i crashed into a car; 1, car hit me; 0
Number of times i purchased clothes; too many times
Number of times i attended a funeral; 5
Number of times i went to church; 15
Number of times my mom disappeared out of my life; 7
Number of times i read books; 50
Number of times i thought i had an imaginary friend; until i was 8 years old
Number of times i was pregnant; 1, abortion; 1
Number of times i traveled; 20
Number of times i kissed; 100, boys; 2, girls; 0 (never will)
Number of times i been married; 0, engaged; 0
Number of times i had a dream about jumping from the very top of a flight of stairs; too many to keep track of
Number of times i been to the mall; 2000
Number of lost friends; 5
Number of friends i have; 10
Number of times i didn't follow rules;50 (always, still don't now)
Number of times i lied; 100, grandma; 20, grandfather; 80
Number of times i prepared a meal; 15
Number of real relationships; 2
Number of times i cheated; 0, cheated on; 1
Number of times i drunk alochol; lost track of mind
Number of times i went to jail; 0
Number of times i smoked weed; 5
Number of schools attented; 3
Number of times i went to the nail shop; 20
Number of computers owned; 2
Number of times i babysitted; 100
Number of times i went skating; 25
Number of times i wore makeup; 1
Number of times i been called a bitch; plenty of times; calling someone a bitch; all the time
Number of Times
Christina Gray
Number of times I wore weave: 1,895 Number of times I slept in class: 59 Number of times I back talked my mother: 568 Number of times I threw up: 40 Number of times I cried over a boy: 25 Number of times I’ve been dumped: 0 Number of times I dumped someone: 3 Number of times I sing a day: 52 Number of times I’ve stolen: 43 Number of times I got caught: 0 Number of times I cursed: 50,854 Number of B2K posters I had: 42 Number of times I kissed a boy: 206 Number of boyfriends: 4 Number of times I’ve been in love: 1and a half Number of best friends:1 Number of books I’ve read: 158 Number of books I looked up on Spark notes: 15 Number of awards I got: 57 Number of I hurt myself: 148 Number of times I got in a fight: 4 Number of times I told my mother I love her: 8,574. Number of times I got a whooping: 96 Number of times I went to a barbecue: 73 Number of time I went to a party: 38 Number of times I was starving: 75 Number of times I didn’t come to school: 194 Number of times I was jealous of someone else: 21 Number of times I’ve talked bad about someone: 624 Number of times I’ve been talked bad about to my knowledge: 104. Number of times I’ve read scriptures from the Bible: 207 Number of times I’ve cleaned the whole house: 97 Number of times I had a crush on someone: 28 Number of pets I had: 8 Number of trees I’ve climbed: 9 Number of times I’ve been sexually harrassed:54 Number of times I killed a bug: 83 Number of times I thought about killing someone: 6 Number of times I thought about killing myself: 1 Number of times I’ve been depressed: 41 Number of times I’ve been happy: 8,758,789 Number of times I cooked a whole meal: 108 Number of times I had an itch: 130,578,147. Number of times I got drunk: 1 Number of times I got high: 1 Number of times I snuck out the house: 3 Number of time I snuck someone in the house: 5 Number of times I polluted: 5,745. Number of times: I got sick: 574. Number of bumps I have: 10
Christina Gray
Number of times I wore weave: 1,895 Number of times I slept in class: 59 Number of times I back talked my mother: 568 Number of times I threw up: 40 Number of times I cried over a boy: 25 Number of times I’ve been dumped: 0 Number of times I dumped someone: 3 Number of times I sing a day: 52 Number of times I’ve stolen: 43 Number of times I got caught: 0 Number of times I cursed: 50,854 Number of B2K posters I had: 42 Number of times I kissed a boy: 206 Number of boyfriends: 4 Number of times I’ve been in love: 1and a half Number of best friends:1 Number of books I’ve read: 158 Number of books I looked up on Spark notes: 15 Number of awards I got: 57 Number of I hurt myself: 148 Number of times I got in a fight: 4 Number of times I told my mother I love her: 8,574. Number of times I got a whooping: 96 Number of times I went to a barbecue: 73 Number of time I went to a party: 38 Number of times I was starving: 75 Number of times I didn’t come to school: 194 Number of times I was jealous of someone else: 21 Number of times I’ve talked bad about someone: 624 Number of times I’ve been talked bad about to my knowledge: 104. Number of times I’ve read scriptures from the Bible: 207 Number of times I’ve cleaned the whole house: 97 Number of times I had a crush on someone: 28 Number of pets I had: 8 Number of trees I’ve climbed: 9 Number of times I’ve been sexually harrassed:54 Number of times I killed a bug: 83 Number of times I thought about killing someone: 6 Number of times I thought about killing myself: 1 Number of times I’ve been depressed: 41 Number of times I’ve been happy: 8,758,789 Number of times I cooked a whole meal: 108 Number of times I had an itch: 130,578,147. Number of times I got drunk: 1 Number of times I got high: 1 Number of times I snuck out the house: 3 Number of time I snuck someone in the house: 5 Number of times I polluted: 5,745. Number of times: I got sick: 574. Number of bumps I have: 10
Christina Gray
my things i did
Then number of beer’s drunk 1127, Number of chicken wings eaten 2002, number of times falling down 7, number of drugs done 0, number of cars owned 3, number of engines built 1, number of crabs I rebuilt 2, number of close people I lot 3, number of burnouts done 15, number of tires bought 8, number of tool owned 1532, number of girls kissed 10, number of times in the hospital 22, number of times I went to Darien Lake 132, number of fish caught 401, number of fishing trips with my grandpa Davie 236, number of times on his boat 101, number of fishing poles I own 7 number of sparks killed 25, number of roller coasters I went on 11, number of time I went to Florida 3 time, number of weeks spent their 4 weeks, number of time at Disney 20, number of parks I went to 4, number of rides I went on 58 1/2, number of times I yelled at my mom 16, number of times I learned my lesson 16, number of times polled over 2, number of tickets 0, number of times speeding 69, number of birthday parties 328, number of cakes eaten 20, number of people I made cry 11, number of people that have hurt me 20, number of years I went to school 12 number of papers written 11034, number of words written 1083957 and then some, number of times swimming 203, number of time I went to work 1424 day, number of hours I worked 4285 hours ant 7.00 and hour, number of popcorn bags filled 3928 and counting, number of drinks poured 3929, number of bosses 3, number of cool bosses 3, number of times I was late to work 1, number of dollars I made last year 6173.74, number of movies I have scene 204, number of movies I own 200, number of times I walked around the battle felids at Gettysburg 21, number of time I stop to admire the battle field 2, the number of times I watch anchorman 25 times, number time I listened to the song care on my wayward son by Kansas 120, number of times I have watched the video 53 time, number of time I hugged my mother 2743 and counting, number of time I had my heart broken to many time to remember, number of wakes I have been to 4, number of times I loved my family 305839 times
Subtotals
Number of times I have been parachuting: 1. Number of girlfriends I’ve had: 21. Number of serious relationships: 5. Number of times I’ve been in driving a four wheeler: 3. Number of times I’ve been skateboarding: 230. Number of times I’ve done laundry: 170. Number of times I’ve been tricked by a salesman: 2. Number of times I’ve missed my school bus: 48. Number of doughnuts I’ve eaten: 132. Number of doughnuts I’ve eaten within the year: 131. Number of times I fell asleep in class: 312. Number of tattoos: 1. Number of piercing: 1. Number of times I hit my piercing and it started bleeding: 9. Number of bicycles I’ve owned: 5. Number of bicycles I’ve broken: 11. Number of Ferraris I’ve scratched: 1. Number of beers I had: 337. Number of shots I had: 32. Number of cigarettes I smoked: 5,412. Number of times I brushed my teeth: 12,568. Number of famous people I’ve seen in real life: 27. Number of basketballs I’ve hit in the basket: 3,679. Number of times I missed: 41,075. Number of shoes I wore: 412. Number of t-shirts I’ve torn while fighting with my giant puddle: 12. Number of times I’ve had sexual contact with a girl: 81. Number of times it lead the whole way: 56. Number of condoms I’ve used: 2. Number of kisses: 3,907. Number of times I lied to my mom: 1,587. Number of times she found out that I lied: 12. Number of times I changed clothing style: 6. Number of times I cried while watching a movie: 8. Number of times I let anyone see me cry: 0. Number of times chipped a tooth: 3. Number of times I bit my tongue: 6. Number of times I cut myself (by accident): 45. Number of times I didn't do my homework: 42. Number of times my homework: 2,671. Number of places lived: 2. Number of times I've been on an airplane: 15. Number of nightmares: 230. Number of times I remembered a dream when I woke up: 675. Number of times called someone a loser: 2,341. Number of times someone called me a loser: 4,007. Number of times I forgot my school id tag: 5. Number of times I asked someone else to buy my lunch: 5. Number of hours spend by a computer: 2,776. Number of of those hours when the computer froze: 1,412. Number of hours spend in school: 21,867. Number of hours I acually worked: 2,004.
Friday, May 12, 2006
J-Rod's Subtotals
Number 0f family members in my family-5
Number of times been lectured by parents day to day-7
Number of times been lectured for entire year-1,025
Number of times been on this blog-6
Number of times been out of state-10
Number of times been yelled at for year-2,001
Number of times yelled at someone-647
Number of times been to McDonalds for a year-48
Number of times been to Wendy's for a year-36
Number of times been in a limo-2
Number of times tripped while skating on ice-12
Number of times I hurt someone from hitting them in ice hockey-16
Number of times been hurt from being hit in hockey-2
Number of ice hockey sticks broken over the past 9 years- 89
Number of trophies owned-39
Number of plaques owned-17
Number of times beaten up my little brother-113
Number of meals eaten a day-5
Number of times been on TV-1
Number of VCR tapes owned-32
Number of DVD's-23
Number of piercings had over childhood-7
Number of times forgot to do HW-62
Number of times didn't really want to do any HW-1,000
Number of times i swear a day-95
Number of Animals owned-3
Number Of times slept on the job for more than 4 hours -58
Number of times slept on a bed-10,000
Number of time slept on the floor-65
Number of times slept on other-49
Number of times get into stupid dumb little fights with someone-78
Number of times it was with someone close-2
Number of socks owned over my life-850
Number of socks that were lost over my life-127
Number of books owned-0
Number of books read-0
Number of books read in the near future-0
Number of books that i lied and said that i read it-45
Number of CD's owned-50
Number of CD's i actually listen to-10
Number of listen to Mrs. Suda talk about work cited-30
Number of times Mr. Wright talk about making the right choice-60
Number of times been to church-0
Number of dropped kicked someone in the face-1
Number of times watched little brother get whooped on by my beast dog
Number of times i told my dad that he is a midget-1,000
Number of times he lectures and says something about smokey the bear-40
Number of times been lectured by parents day to day-7
Number of times been lectured for entire year-1,025
Number of times been on this blog-6
Number of times been out of state-10
Number of times been yelled at for year-2,001
Number of times yelled at someone-647
Number of times been to McDonalds for a year-48
Number of times been to Wendy's for a year-36
Number of times been in a limo-2
Number of times tripped while skating on ice-12
Number of times I hurt someone from hitting them in ice hockey-16
Number of times been hurt from being hit in hockey-2
Number of ice hockey sticks broken over the past 9 years- 89
Number of trophies owned-39
Number of plaques owned-17
Number of times beaten up my little brother-113
Number of meals eaten a day-5
Number of times been on TV-1
Number of VCR tapes owned-32
Number of DVD's-23
Number of piercings had over childhood-7
Number of times forgot to do HW-62
Number of times didn't really want to do any HW-1,000
Number of times i swear a day-95
Number of Animals owned-3
Number Of times slept on the job for more than 4 hours -58
Number of times slept on a bed-10,000
Number of time slept on the floor-65
Number of times slept on other-49
Number of times get into stupid dumb little fights with someone-78
Number of times it was with someone close-2
Number of socks owned over my life-850
Number of socks that were lost over my life-127
Number of books owned-0
Number of books read-0
Number of books read in the near future-0
Number of books that i lied and said that i read it-45
Number of CD's owned-50
Number of CD's i actually listen to-10
Number of listen to Mrs. Suda talk about work cited-30
Number of times Mr. Wright talk about making the right choice-60
Number of times been to church-0
Number of dropped kicked someone in the face-1
Number of times watched little brother get whooped on by my beast dog
Number of times i told my dad that he is a midget-1,000
Number of times he lectures and says something about smokey the bear-40
Subtotals
number of cars driven:4
number of times i went shopping:5,083
number of sucessful relationships:1 failures:3
number of times i've been to Florida: 16
number of deaths in the family: close 4, distant 10
number of times late to school: 76
number of flip-flops owned: 22
number of necklaces owned: 82
number of times i picked up the phone and no one was there: 3,785
number of times i look at the clock during class: 6,793,082
number of times i sat through boring assemblys:265
number of times i jumped off a cliff:0
number of pets i've owned: dogs 3, cats 2, lizards 3, fish 8, hamster 2
number of times i dyed my hair: 9
number of times talked on the phone:20,845
number of times went out to eat: 320
number of times didn't listen to my parents: 11,987,256
number of times watched tv:25,650,142
number of jobs held:6
number of times went to the hospital for myself:1
number of glasses worn:8
number of houses owned:1 other state:2
number of skittles eaten:5,940,367
number of earrings owned:32
number of purses owned:14
number of hockey games watched:244
number of teachers had:40
number of times ate McDonalds:680
number of snacks bought at school:310
number of times played in the rain:52
number of times worn a dress:28
number of times i've cut the lawn:95
number of art classes taken:6
number of times i daydreamed in class:365
number of lockers i've had:6
number of phones owned:9
number of hours i've laughed:250,988,670
number of siblings: 1 sister, 1 brother
number of awards: 62
number of meets ive swam in:40
number of coaches:3
number of keys in my key chain:3
number of times i've wrote number of times:34
number of times i went skydiving:2
number of poems i wrote:5
number of exams taken:44
number of times i got in trouble for talking: 4,023
number of times i got kicked out of the library for talking:4
number of times we remodeled our house:7
number of pillows on my bed:7
number of times i brush my hair:365,612
number of times i've called off work and lied about my excuse: 64
number of cds i own: 82
number of times i stole my sisters clothes: 222
number of timed i went tanning:46
number of times i thought i was right: 302,150 and i really wasnt 302,149
number of computers i own:2
number of movies i went to:67
number of arguments i got into with Boyfriend:15..I won:15
number of times i rode in a limo:3
number of songs i have downloaded:713
number of people i sit next to daily:64
number of times i've used the bathroom:962,873,231
number of times i use selective hearing:615
number of pen wars i was involved in:12
number of times i made a copy:898
number of times i drank powerade:201
number of times i went shopping:5,083
number of sucessful relationships:1 failures:3
number of times i've been to Florida: 16
number of deaths in the family: close 4, distant 10
number of times late to school: 76
number of flip-flops owned: 22
number of necklaces owned: 82
number of times i picked up the phone and no one was there: 3,785
number of times i look at the clock during class: 6,793,082
number of times i sat through boring assemblys:265
number of times i jumped off a cliff:0
number of pets i've owned: dogs 3, cats 2, lizards 3, fish 8, hamster 2
number of times i dyed my hair: 9
number of times talked on the phone:20,845
number of times went out to eat: 320
number of times didn't listen to my parents: 11,987,256
number of times watched tv:25,650,142
number of jobs held:6
number of times went to the hospital for myself:1
number of glasses worn:8
number of houses owned:1 other state:2
number of skittles eaten:5,940,367
number of earrings owned:32
number of purses owned:14
number of hockey games watched:244
number of teachers had:40
number of times ate McDonalds:680
number of snacks bought at school:310
number of times played in the rain:52
number of times worn a dress:28
number of times i've cut the lawn:95
number of art classes taken:6
number of times i daydreamed in class:365
number of lockers i've had:6
number of phones owned:9
number of hours i've laughed:250,988,670
number of siblings: 1 sister, 1 brother
number of awards: 62
number of meets ive swam in:40
number of coaches:3
number of keys in my key chain:3
number of times i've wrote number of times:34
number of times i went skydiving:2
number of poems i wrote:5
number of exams taken:44
number of times i got in trouble for talking: 4,023
number of times i got kicked out of the library for talking:4
number of times we remodeled our house:7
number of pillows on my bed:7
number of times i brush my hair:365,612
number of times i've called off work and lied about my excuse: 64
number of cds i own: 82
number of times i stole my sisters clothes: 222
number of timed i went tanning:46
number of times i thought i was right: 302,150 and i really wasnt 302,149
number of computers i own:2
number of movies i went to:67
number of arguments i got into with Boyfriend:15..I won:15
number of times i rode in a limo:3
number of songs i have downloaded:713
number of people i sit next to daily:64
number of times i've used the bathroom:962,873,231
number of times i use selective hearing:615
number of pen wars i was involved in:12
number of times i made a copy:898
number of times i drank powerade:201
Thursday, May 11, 2006
subtotals
number of times fallen asleep in school: 0
number of times wished I could fall asleep in school: 43
number of black tank tops: 8
number of CDs, bought: 19; made: 16; copied: 11
number of pairs of footwear, sneakers: 4; flip flops: 6; shoes: 5
number of questions unanswered: 5,629
number of trees climbed: 3
number of times I dyed my hair: 7
number of stuffed animals: 54
number of tears cried: 2,296,302
number of lies told, white: 387; any other color: 74
number of that 80’s song: 867-5309
number of poems written: 58
number of times been kissed in the rain: 1
number of nail polish colors owned: 23
number of times thought about ending my life: 78
number of pant size: 5 or 7
number of pets: 6
number of times fallen, literally: 98; metaphorically: 32
time right now: 11:14 PM
number of concerts attended: 10
number of times laughed until I cried: 6
number of times cried until I laughed: 1
number of shoes size: 9 ½
number of broken hearts: 3
number of copies of Wuthering Heights: 2
number of times I played mother to my mother: 5
number of times wished I looked like her, or her, or her: 3,865
number of times been happy to be in a relationship: 8,196,362,015
number of times regretted to be in a relationship: 21
number of broken bones: 0
number of earrings lost: 11
number of times purposely hurt myself: 18
number of times hated my brother: 57
number of times missed my nephew: 365
number of times homesick: 17
number of times my mom annoyed the hell out of me: 602
number of times hated being a girl: 34
number of times loved being a girl: 2,594
number of unexplained feelings: 88
number of clothes stained with food or something else: 26
number of times been afraid, of things: 93; of living: 127
number of times said I love you: 3,564,784,273
number of times wished I were somewhere else: everyday
number of times wished I could fall asleep in school: 43
number of black tank tops: 8
number of CDs, bought: 19; made: 16; copied: 11
number of pairs of footwear, sneakers: 4; flip flops: 6; shoes: 5
number of questions unanswered: 5,629
number of trees climbed: 3
number of times I dyed my hair: 7
number of stuffed animals: 54
number of tears cried: 2,296,302
number of lies told, white: 387; any other color: 74
number of that 80’s song: 867-5309
number of poems written: 58
number of times been kissed in the rain: 1
number of nail polish colors owned: 23
number of times thought about ending my life: 78
number of pant size: 5 or 7
number of pets: 6
number of times fallen, literally: 98; metaphorically: 32
time right now: 11:14 PM
number of concerts attended: 10
number of times laughed until I cried: 6
number of times cried until I laughed: 1
number of shoes size: 9 ½
number of broken hearts: 3
number of copies of Wuthering Heights: 2
number of times I played mother to my mother: 5
number of times wished I looked like her, or her, or her: 3,865
number of times been happy to be in a relationship: 8,196,362,015
number of times regretted to be in a relationship: 21
number of broken bones: 0
number of earrings lost: 11
number of times purposely hurt myself: 18
number of times hated my brother: 57
number of times missed my nephew: 365
number of times homesick: 17
number of times my mom annoyed the hell out of me: 602
number of times hated being a girl: 34
number of times loved being a girl: 2,594
number of unexplained feelings: 88
number of clothes stained with food or something else: 26
number of times been afraid, of things: 93; of living: 127
number of times said I love you: 3,564,784,273
number of times wished I were somewhere else: everyday
Subtotal = total
Number of times did homework; on time: 1,379; late: 22. Number of times played piano in the dark: 27. Number of words written: 2,923,689,301. Number of sandwhiches made: 267. Number of times listened to Bohemian Rhapsody: 681. Number of stubbed toes: 378. Number of hours worked in a week; most: 39.75; least: 10. Number of unpure thoughts: 408,301. Number of concerts been to: 8. Number of past schedules and paychecks: 74. Money in my accounts: $2,600; in my pockets: $0. Packs of cigarettes smoked: 4. Number of Old Navy Card applications processed: 317. Number of hours consumed by video games: 798. Number of times wailed the National Anthem: 32. Number of times Sabres have won while watching the game: 3; while not watching: 42. Number of belly flops: 12. Number of songs on iPod: 1482. Number of times yelled at by parents for having amp and music up too loud: 321. Pairs of sunglasses owned: 7. Number of pairs of flip-flops owned: 4. Average number of times hitting the snooze button: 6. Number of times proven wrong: 26. Number of times hit in the arm by an oompa-loompa: 29. Number of checks written: 0. Number of times fallen asleep with contacts in: 45. Number of pink shirts owned: 6. Number of times in love: 2. Number of times not in love, but thinking I was: 598. Number of times caught talking with my hands: 154. Number of times having to deal with distraught customers: 1,142. Number of hours of sleep a night: 5. Number of spoonfuls of sugar in coffee: 2. Number of times going up a skateboard ramp on a bike, not having enough speed and going head first into the ground almost killing myself: 1. Number of times thought I was someone else: 18. Number of uncleaned up piles of dog poop in the backyard: 27. Number of sprays of cologne: 6. Number of formulas required by memory in calculus: 352.
Subtotals
Number of times I was in the same room as a baby being born: 1. Number of times I acted like a dog and a dinosour in one night: 1. Number of time Ashley and I fell off a chair together: 3. Number of times I slammed my bedroom door: after a fight with my mom: 56; just for fun: 37. Number of times i had to explain that i did not make the rules, I just have to make people follow them: 2,763. Number of times i have been assuced of flirting with Ashley: 578. Number of times i have seem my big brother threatened with a knife: 1. Number of times I beat ashley in Jet Set Radio Future: 1,563. Number of times ashley bit me: 93. Number of times my dad promised he would come back and stay: 2. Number of times he actually did: 0. Number of times I ate dill pickle chips and vanilla ice cream: 1. Number of times i have moved: 22. Number of times my house has been shot at: 1. Number of days i was a cheerleader: 160. Number of goals i scored for my soccer team: 13. Number of times I was actually in love: 1. Number of times i wished my sisters husband was dead: 547,098. Number of times I fell up the stairs: 77. Number of times the tarot cards have been right: 176. Number of times i have gotten scared of "most Haunted": 7. Number of times a Backstreet Boy and his kid were on my ride: 1. Number of times i painted a room: 6. Number of friends lost because of stupid fights: 4. Number of miutes it took Arika and I to get out of that one damn level on Jet set Radio Future: 44 minutes and 27 seconds. number of times I put milk on ice cream: 179. Number of times I have been hit by a car: 1. Number of times I have been shot at: 2. Number of times I wish I did my homework sooner: 78. Number of times I let Ashley put curlers in my hair and then fall asleep with them in and wake up looking like an electrucuted poodle until someone tamed it: 1. Number of times I had a blonde moment: 25,769.
Subtotals
number of schools i've attended: 4. number of books i've read for school: 30. for fun: 1200. number of cd's i've burned: 14. number of Bad religion songs on those cd's: 5. number of bamboo plants owned: 3. number of bamboo plants eaten by my cat: 2. number of countries i've lived in: 2. number of times moved: 15. number of black pens lost: 46. number of mocha SpotShakes, tall: 53. grande: 9. number of times performed on stage: 16. number of "best" friends: 11. number of bracelets made for other people: 34. number of times i've been the dirty mistress: 2. number of times people assumed I was: 5. number of teeth pulled: 13. number of autographed books: 6. number of "real" jobs: 1. number of locker combinations memorized: 12. number of computers owned: 5. number of words per minute i can type : 59. number of times i've been called a daddys girl: 63. mommys girl : 4. number of crushes on teachers: 4. celebrities : 46. politicians: 2. number of jellyfish seen: 3. number of times i've seen my mom cry: 307. stepfather: 2. dad: 3. number of screennames: 9. number of bookshelves organized: 21. movie shelves: 8. number of rings i wear everyday: 2. necklaces: 3. bracelets: 5. number of "real"-ish relationships: 7. number of times in love: 2. number of vinyl records owned: 37. number of funerals attended : 9. weddings: 7. number of video game operationg systems: 12. number of times tried to go vegetarian: 4. number of family gatherings i've dreaded attending: 18. number of "The Sims" games and expansion packs owned: 12. number of books bought just for show: 7. number of playbills kept: 19. number of campfires attended, at camp: 20. at the cottage: 194. other: 5. number of times broken the law: 17. number of different laws broken: 3. number of times tried to explain that sometimes black doesn't match black: 47. number of posters, bands: 3. marilyn monroe: 3. other: 5. number of tv series seasons on dvd owned: 5. number of times i've thrown my cell phone: 13. number of times I dyed my hair: 4. number of times insomnia has kept me up all night: 17. number of times been accused of having an eating disorder: 6. number of Myspace friends: 70. number of those people I actually use Myspace to talk to: 9. number of poetry readings attended: 9. open mikes: 3. number of "celebrities" i've met: 6. number of concerts attended, school:17. big bands: 1. house shows: 3. number of times swore off fastfood restaurnts: 2. number of times broken that: 2. number of times my brother had a crush on one of my friends: 3. number of my friends my sister has hated: 4. number of tv shows i watch every week: 8. number of times fell off of swings: 2. number of stories i've written: 14. number of times I realized I just don't care anymore: 19.
Subtotals
Number of houses I lived in: 3. Number of times I beat up my sister: 2,493. Number of times I needed stitches: 0. Number of first place ribbons for swimming: 2. Number of schools I attended: 4. Number of dogs I’ve owned: 3. Number of cousins: 10. Number of times I babysat: 63. Number of times I’ve been in Pittsburgh: 4. number of states I’ve been in: 10. Number of grandparents that I still have: 2. Number of times I’ve been late to elementary school because of my dad: 1067. Number of times my sister annoys me: 5,683. Number of times I threw a no-hitter in a softball game: 0. Number of times I placed in one of my events in swimming: 9. Number of times I’ve been late to work: 3. Number of times I’ve had a customer complain to me about something at work: 5,417. Number of times at least one of the tills at work were not even: 41. Number of students in my eighth grade graduating class: 8. Number of times my parents yelled at me: 3,569. Number of words I can type per minute: 30. Number of dresses I own: 7. Number of months in a year: 12. Number of English classes I took this year: 4. Number of colleges I applied to: 4. Number of years I’ve spent in school: 15. Number of hours I work per week: 20. Number of hours I sleep each night: 6 ½. Number of Oreos I can fit in my mouth at once: 3. Number of classes I take in one school day: 7. Number of times my brother got yelled at: 12,637. Number of times in a day my mom yells at my dad to stop messing with the dog: 6. Number of text messages I send every day: 5. Number of times I was depressed: 5. Number of times I wanted to kill myself: 3. Number of suits I own, Dress suit: 1; Swimsuit: 10. Number of swim meets I’ve had this year: 12.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
For Start magazine
What’s in A,
By Tifani Milewski
When I was younger I hated my name. It’s a name with such…I don’t know such…implications.
I do not look like a Tifani.
A Tiffani.
A Tifany.
A Tiffany.
You have to know what I mean right? It’s a name so sugary sweet it practically curls upon the page: Tifani, Tiffani. Tifany Tiffany.
It’s cotton candy. Its marshmallow fluff. It’s the name of a doll, a princess.
A stripper.
No offense to all you other “Tiffany’s”. Let’s use the “original” spelling here (or the only one that came up right on spell check) who have tried to work past the name. To be something more then sparkles and fluff with just a dash of rainbows.
I could never complain to my Mother (Just my mother. According to my father he wanted to name me either Helena or Shannon….Do I look like a Helena?) Apparently she’d loved the name had it picked out since she was six years old (cue the AWWWWWWW, right?) and she could not be fazed could never see my horror at being given such a sweet name.
Maybe if I had ended up a super model, trophy wife, or ballerina…but what world famous authors/doctor’s/actresses (I’ve wanted to be many thing’s in life) are named Tiffany? Huh? Name one and for those of you who have seen Saved by the Bell don’t you dare bring up Ms. Theissen. She doesn’t count.
Point made. Right?
I was too smart to be a “Tiffany”.
Too independent.
Too dignified.
(And again this is just me being a little full of myself. No offense to all you other Tiffany’s.)
And my mother could never see that (will never see that) because she has to LOVE the name so much, since she was six years old.
“Tiffany’s” is the name of a jewelry store in an Audrey Hepburn movie.
“Tiffany” is not…I am NOT a Tiffany!!!!!
You see my point right?
Right?
Shut up! I am not making a big deal out of this. You try walking around with a name that could induce cavities and pretty much predestines a love of the color pink (and I don’t hate pink…I tried for so long!) and then you have earned the right to complain to me.
Okay???!!!
Okay.
Well….
Yeah….
So anyway you’ve probably noticed that I’m saying this all in the past tense right?
Meaning I’m over my past….issues…with what my mother choose to call me out of the BILLIONS of other….anyway I’m over it, I’m over it, it’s not so bad and she meant well giving me a tiny piece of individuality among all the strippers and cheerleaders (Again no offense…don’t hate me!). Out of the fifteen or so other “Tiffany’s” I’ve met in my lifetime I’m the only one with one “F” and one “I” so that’s something. Right? Right.
And I like many others am working on reclaiming the name, making it my own, adding a little less sugar, and a little more buy my books and worship me.
Oh yes one day I will rule the world.
And there you have it.
And all this…this “mess”.
Is nothing compared to my middle name.
D-A-N-Y-E-L-L.
Mother! That is not how you spell Danielle!
By Tifani Milewski
When I was younger I hated my name. It’s a name with such…I don’t know such…implications.
I do not look like a Tifani.
A Tiffani.
A Tifany.
A Tiffany.
You have to know what I mean right? It’s a name so sugary sweet it practically curls upon the page: Tifani, Tiffani. Tifany Tiffany.
It’s cotton candy. Its marshmallow fluff. It’s the name of a doll, a princess.
A stripper.
No offense to all you other “Tiffany’s”. Let’s use the “original” spelling here (or the only one that came up right on spell check) who have tried to work past the name. To be something more then sparkles and fluff with just a dash of rainbows.
I could never complain to my Mother (Just my mother. According to my father he wanted to name me either Helena or Shannon….Do I look like a Helena?) Apparently she’d loved the name had it picked out since she was six years old (cue the AWWWWWWW, right?) and she could not be fazed could never see my horror at being given such a sweet name.
Maybe if I had ended up a super model, trophy wife, or ballerina…but what world famous authors/doctor’s/actresses (I’ve wanted to be many thing’s in life) are named Tiffany? Huh? Name one and for those of you who have seen Saved by the Bell don’t you dare bring up Ms. Theissen. She doesn’t count.
Point made. Right?
I was too smart to be a “Tiffany”.
Too independent.
Too dignified.
(And again this is just me being a little full of myself. No offense to all you other Tiffany’s.)
And my mother could never see that (will never see that) because she has to LOVE the name so much, since she was six years old.
“Tiffany’s” is the name of a jewelry store in an Audrey Hepburn movie.
“Tiffany” is not…I am NOT a Tiffany!!!!!
You see my point right?
Right?
Shut up! I am not making a big deal out of this. You try walking around with a name that could induce cavities and pretty much predestines a love of the color pink (and I don’t hate pink…I tried for so long!) and then you have earned the right to complain to me.
Okay???!!!
Okay.
Well….
Yeah….
So anyway you’ve probably noticed that I’m saying this all in the past tense right?
Meaning I’m over my past….issues…with what my mother choose to call me out of the BILLIONS of other….anyway I’m over it, I’m over it, it’s not so bad and she meant well giving me a tiny piece of individuality among all the strippers and cheerleaders (Again no offense…don’t hate me!). Out of the fifteen or so other “Tiffany’s” I’ve met in my lifetime I’m the only one with one “F” and one “I” so that’s something. Right? Right.
And I like many others am working on reclaiming the name, making it my own, adding a little less sugar, and a little more buy my books and worship me.
Oh yes one day I will rule the world.
And there you have it.
And all this…this “mess”.
Is nothing compared to my middle name.
D-A-N-Y-E-L-L.
Mother! That is not how you spell Danielle!
Robert Long Owes Mr. Cercone a USB Flash Drive
Punk, defined as, a young person, especially a member of a rebellious counterculture group, a punk rocker. “Punk, we didn’t call our self that, that’s the name the headlines gave us, because we of our wild culture.” As stated by Iggy pop in the film “History of rock and roll: Punk.”
Since punk originated in the mid 1970s the United States and the UK. It has under gone many divisions into smaller sub cultures from its already complex diverse culture. “Punk rock is what started it all” say some punks. While Iggy pop did say the head lines gave them the name punk others claim that it was coined by the band Suicide when the played a gig titled “a punk music mass.” The production and consumption of punk culture is an idea shared by most punks, its how punk scenes are generated. The main ideology of punk is a belief is one should maximize freedom and make the most out of a traditional restricted life style.
Punk in politics, when it comes to punks in politics the different sub cultures possess many different ideas. Some sub cultures stress the trend of anarchism, anti authority, anti racism, anti- capitalism, and anti-nationalism. A modern day punk band named Anti-flag believes in all of these. Others stress environmentalism, vegetarianism, veganism, and animal rights.
The punk fashion… High theatrical use of clothing, hairstyles, cosmetics, body modification, and jewelry. Hair is worn in spikes or cut to a Mohawk or unnatural shapes and colored with vibrant hues. Clothes might be written on with marker and defaced with paint; shirts are ripped and held together by safety pins. Also tight pants and converse. Some jewelry may consist of safety pins and or other sharp objects.
There are many sub cultures within punk. Some of them are Nazi-punk, death rock punk, hardcore punk, skate punk, crust punk, street punk, conservative punk, anarchy punk, Christian punk, queer core, and riot grrl.
Since punk originated in the mid 1970s the United States and the UK. It has under gone many divisions into smaller sub cultures from its already complex diverse culture. “Punk rock is what started it all” say some punks. While Iggy pop did say the head lines gave them the name punk others claim that it was coined by the band Suicide when the played a gig titled “a punk music mass.” The production and consumption of punk culture is an idea shared by most punks, its how punk scenes are generated. The main ideology of punk is a belief is one should maximize freedom and make the most out of a traditional restricted life style.
Punk in politics, when it comes to punks in politics the different sub cultures possess many different ideas. Some sub cultures stress the trend of anarchism, anti authority, anti racism, anti- capitalism, and anti-nationalism. A modern day punk band named Anti-flag believes in all of these. Others stress environmentalism, vegetarianism, veganism, and animal rights.
The punk fashion… High theatrical use of clothing, hairstyles, cosmetics, body modification, and jewelry. Hair is worn in spikes or cut to a Mohawk or unnatural shapes and colored with vibrant hues. Clothes might be written on with marker and defaced with paint; shirts are ripped and held together by safety pins. Also tight pants and converse. Some jewelry may consist of safety pins and or other sharp objects.
There are many sub cultures within punk. Some of them are Nazi-punk, death rock punk, hardcore punk, skate punk, crust punk, street punk, conservative punk, anarchy punk, Christian punk, queer core, and riot grrl.
Friday, April 28, 2006
To Face a Disgrace
Christina Gray
“Damn you look good”, Mahki says to his reflection. I’m 5’11, 200 lbs., caramel complexion, long braids, pretty teeth, nice build. The ladies usually refer to me as “pretty boy Kye”. I look good everyday, but today I was killin’ it. I got the fresh braids, crispy jays, new wardrobe. I was fresh to death. I just coped a new whip this weekend too, so I’ma pull up in front of the school in style. “Man all them skeezers gon’ be on ma nut sack”, he says to himself while blowing kisses at the mirror. It was time to roll out.
It was a nice day outside. Birds were chirping. The sun was out. All that good shit. Perfect day to stunt. I was mad happy to go back to school. Man, wait till everybody see me in my black on black Lincoln Navigator with the 24 inch rims that ma pops got for me. Ever since momz put me out, I been livin' it up. Ma dad jus came up on some big money and he give me anything I ask for. Man, I never want to go back to that dumped. Shit, I’m tired of struggling’. I feel so bad for ma little brother and sister though. They shouldn’t have to live like that. Momz was never home when I was there and when she was, all she did was nag and complain about every fuckin’ thing. I know they in hell now that I’m gone. I miss them but I’m never going back there. When ma pops give me money, I hook them up wit a little somethin’. Leave it up to ma momz and they’ll be going’ to school looking’ like straight hobos. I went through that when I was younger. It definitely wasn’t a good time in my life, but it’s over now and I’ve let it go.
Anyways back to my day. Now I’m cruising down the strip wit ma windows rolled down checking’ out the ladies. They all was checking’ me out. The pretty, the sexy, the average, the ugly. They all was on ma jock. I felt like a king and the streets was ma castle. When I pulled up in front of the school, all eyes were on me. I was what you would call “that dude”. No one knew it was me who was in the truck, since my windows were rolled up and my tents were so dark. I knew the girls would be running’ up to me when I stepped out of ma ride. I didn’t want to rush it, so I just blasted Dem Franchise Boys. You could hear my beats from around the corner. “Lean with it, Rock with it” was playing’ and a lot of people were out there doing’ the dance. Before the song ended, I had to show them how to really do it. I jumped out with my “stunter shades on” and bust out with the dance I knew best. I heard a lot of “oooooooo’s” and “aaaaaaaahhhh’s”, or somethin’ like that. I heard my name like ten times and I seen about six girls walking’ my way. I finished dancing and leaned up against my ride.
“What’s poppin’ sexy?” a pretty one asked me.
“Shit, what’s good shorty”
“You”, she responded licking her lips seductively.
Her goonies were commenting but I didn’t hear exactly what they were saying.
“That's what's up” I responded, smiling to show off my “sexy dimples”
“Is that you?” she asked pointing at my ride.
“Yea, just a little somethin' somethin”
“Ain’t nothing little about your ride and you know it”
“Well you know I’m a big boy, and I mess with nothing but big thangs”, I grabbed my crotch a little to tease her.
“Ooooooo” I heard her goonies squeal.
“I feel you, so do you got a number for me cutie”
“For sure”
I said my number a loud knowing a few of her goonies would remember it in their minds and write it down later.
“Well I’ll be sure to get at you”
“Yea you do that ASAP”
I watched them walk away. She didn’t have the biggest butt in the world but I will be sure to do something about that real soon.
The day went by fast. I went cruising for a while, then I went ova my mans house to smoke a little, drink a little. I guess I kind of lost track of time, because when I was leaving out it was 2 o’ clock. Ma dad wasn’t gon’ say nothing to me but, I didn’t want to give him no reason not to give me my money tomorrow. So I’m driving up the strip and I see mad shorties on the corner, with their high heeled boots on and their mini skirts. As I stopped at a red light, one of the prostitutes start walking up to my car. She had a fat ass and she was kind of cute, but she looked mad old. I wasn’t gon’ give her no play but I was tryna see what she looked like. As she got closer I began to recognize her and I could tell she recognized me too.
“MOM!!!!!”
“MAHKI!”
As she began to talk, I pulled off. I was disgusted. I saw her reflection in my rear view mirror. I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to yell at her, but before I could my foot was on the pedal. I don’t know how I can ever face her again.
by christina gray
“Damn you look good”, Mahki says to his reflection. I’m 5’11, 200 lbs., caramel complexion, long braids, pretty teeth, nice build. The ladies usually refer to me as “pretty boy Kye”. I look good everyday, but today I was killin’ it. I got the fresh braids, crispy jays, new wardrobe. I was fresh to death. I just coped a new whip this weekend too, so I’ma pull up in front of the school in style. “Man all them skeezers gon’ be on ma nut sack”, he says to himself while blowing kisses at the mirror. It was time to roll out.
It was a nice day outside. Birds were chirping. The sun was out. All that good shit. Perfect day to stunt. I was mad happy to go back to school. Man, wait till everybody see me in my black on black Lincoln Navigator with the 24 inch rims that ma pops got for me. Ever since momz put me out, I been livin' it up. Ma dad jus came up on some big money and he give me anything I ask for. Man, I never want to go back to that dumped. Shit, I’m tired of struggling’. I feel so bad for ma little brother and sister though. They shouldn’t have to live like that. Momz was never home when I was there and when she was, all she did was nag and complain about every fuckin’ thing. I know they in hell now that I’m gone. I miss them but I’m never going back there. When ma pops give me money, I hook them up wit a little somethin’. Leave it up to ma momz and they’ll be going’ to school looking’ like straight hobos. I went through that when I was younger. It definitely wasn’t a good time in my life, but it’s over now and I’ve let it go.
Anyways back to my day. Now I’m cruising down the strip wit ma windows rolled down checking’ out the ladies. They all was checking’ me out. The pretty, the sexy, the average, the ugly. They all was on ma jock. I felt like a king and the streets was ma castle. When I pulled up in front of the school, all eyes were on me. I was what you would call “that dude”. No one knew it was me who was in the truck, since my windows were rolled up and my tents were so dark. I knew the girls would be running’ up to me when I stepped out of ma ride. I didn’t want to rush it, so I just blasted Dem Franchise Boys. You could hear my beats from around the corner. “Lean with it, Rock with it” was playing’ and a lot of people were out there doing’ the dance. Before the song ended, I had to show them how to really do it. I jumped out with my “stunter shades on” and bust out with the dance I knew best. I heard a lot of “oooooooo’s” and “aaaaaaaahhhh’s”, or somethin’ like that. I heard my name like ten times and I seen about six girls walking’ my way. I finished dancing and leaned up against my ride.
“What’s poppin’ sexy?” a pretty one asked me.
“Shit, what’s good shorty”
“You”, she responded licking her lips seductively.
Her goonies were commenting but I didn’t hear exactly what they were saying.
“That's what's up” I responded, smiling to show off my “sexy dimples”
“Is that you?” she asked pointing at my ride.
“Yea, just a little somethin' somethin”
“Ain’t nothing little about your ride and you know it”
“Well you know I’m a big boy, and I mess with nothing but big thangs”, I grabbed my crotch a little to tease her.
“Ooooooo” I heard her goonies squeal.
“I feel you, so do you got a number for me cutie”
“For sure”
I said my number a loud knowing a few of her goonies would remember it in their minds and write it down later.
“Well I’ll be sure to get at you”
“Yea you do that ASAP”
I watched them walk away. She didn’t have the biggest butt in the world but I will be sure to do something about that real soon.
The day went by fast. I went cruising for a while, then I went ova my mans house to smoke a little, drink a little. I guess I kind of lost track of time, because when I was leaving out it was 2 o’ clock. Ma dad wasn’t gon’ say nothing to me but, I didn’t want to give him no reason not to give me my money tomorrow. So I’m driving up the strip and I see mad shorties on the corner, with their high heeled boots on and their mini skirts. As I stopped at a red light, one of the prostitutes start walking up to my car. She had a fat ass and she was kind of cute, but she looked mad old. I wasn’t gon’ give her no play but I was tryna see what she looked like. As she got closer I began to recognize her and I could tell she recognized me too.
“MOM!!!!!”
“MAHKI!”
As she began to talk, I pulled off. I was disgusted. I saw her reflection in my rear view mirror. I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to yell at her, but before I could my foot was on the pedal. I don’t know how I can ever face her again.
by christina gray
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Part 1 of my char story
tired from doing government paper but i got this so far.
“Wake up already or your gonna miss the bus!” “I know, I know.” Obviously you don’t since it’s seven already.” “Seven? Oh crap” It was another morning of getting ready for school and rushing to catch the bus. I would somehow always have just enough time to get ready, as to get the maximum amount of sleep as possible as us teenagers need. I would hop on the bus and find a seat.
“Hey Val. Still going to bed late as usual?” “Yeah, I’ve been working on my song a lot lately; it’s just about ready. I just need a perfect ending to it now.” I was working on a song with my guitar for the past week and it’s near completion. Just a little needs an ending. “What kind of song is it anyway?” “The kind of song I want it to be.” I laughed it off. The bus driver had been going her usual pace of slow and occasionally cranking it up to the speed limit, but that only occurred when we went down hill and she was to lazy to step on the brake pedal.
“Why won’t you tell me what it’s about?” “Cuz, I don’t know, you’ll find out eventually though mark.” “Not at this rate, you never tell me about your musical workings. What’s to hide?” I secretly had a crush on him and was just waiting for the right moment to ask him out. I heard he had feelings for me to. “Whatever, I’ll just have to wait.” Not much longer I hoped. “Well I will hopefully have it done in the next couple days. Can you wait that long?” “I guess. It had better be worth it though, or you’ll be sorry.” He said jokingly. He started waving his hand in front of my face. “Earth to Val, calling Valerie. Earth to Val.”
I had gotten lost in his golden brown hair just long enough to be perfectly spiked. And those eyes were to die for, those baby blue eyes. You could be lost in them for hours, yet I haven’t ever had the pleasure of doing so. “Oh, sorry.” “You’re blushing, what is it?” he asked. “Nothing” I replied. We were nearing the school and waiting to get off the bus. The smokers would head off campus across the street and have a smoke while the rest of us would stay warm inside the school. I had always wondered how smokers could stand outside during the winter. Don’t they get a little cold in 31-degree weather?
“Well, I’ll see you later I guess, you can tell me more about your song later.” “Okay, tootles.”
“Wake up already or your gonna miss the bus!” “I know, I know.” Obviously you don’t since it’s seven already.” “Seven? Oh crap” It was another morning of getting ready for school and rushing to catch the bus. I would somehow always have just enough time to get ready, as to get the maximum amount of sleep as possible as us teenagers need. I would hop on the bus and find a seat.
“Hey Val. Still going to bed late as usual?” “Yeah, I’ve been working on my song a lot lately; it’s just about ready. I just need a perfect ending to it now.” I was working on a song with my guitar for the past week and it’s near completion. Just a little needs an ending. “What kind of song is it anyway?” “The kind of song I want it to be.” I laughed it off. The bus driver had been going her usual pace of slow and occasionally cranking it up to the speed limit, but that only occurred when we went down hill and she was to lazy to step on the brake pedal.
“Why won’t you tell me what it’s about?” “Cuz, I don’t know, you’ll find out eventually though mark.” “Not at this rate, you never tell me about your musical workings. What’s to hide?” I secretly had a crush on him and was just waiting for the right moment to ask him out. I heard he had feelings for me to. “Whatever, I’ll just have to wait.” Not much longer I hoped. “Well I will hopefully have it done in the next couple days. Can you wait that long?” “I guess. It had better be worth it though, or you’ll be sorry.” He said jokingly. He started waving his hand in front of my face. “Earth to Val, calling Valerie. Earth to Val.”
I had gotten lost in his golden brown hair just long enough to be perfectly spiked. And those eyes were to die for, those baby blue eyes. You could be lost in them for hours, yet I haven’t ever had the pleasure of doing so. “Oh, sorry.” “You’re blushing, what is it?” he asked. “Nothing” I replied. We were nearing the school and waiting to get off the bus. The smokers would head off campus across the street and have a smoke while the rest of us would stay warm inside the school. I had always wondered how smokers could stand outside during the winter. Don’t they get a little cold in 31-degree weather?
“Well, I’ll see you later I guess, you can tell me more about your song later.” “Okay, tootles.”
Monday, April 24, 2006
Character Sketch Part Two
Now, i shouldn't have to repeat myself of what my character look like and what he was like.
But anyways Wayne as you know from part one of his life was a drug dealer. Wayne also dressed nice and always had alot of money, but until one day his friend started to notice something different about him. He realized that Wayne would also be broke and wasn't dressing like he used to (all G'd up). This is where the major problem starts. One day Wayne mind told him to test the drug he sold, which was crack. But on second thoughts Wayne kept saying yes to his first thought, but yea to his second thought. Before you could get his mind straight, he took a puff from the crack pipe. To hiself he said "It's all right, but it's not something I like". Little did he know, he became addicted from that one puff. The next day when he woke up, he started realizing that he was fiening for this drug, instead of selling it to other people and making money of them, he was busy smoking it all up his self and being broke. As months went by his hood friends started noticing that he Wayne was losing to much weight, skinny as a skeleton, his skin started looking all dark and dry, his clothes weren't clean, and shit neither was he. "Wayne" his friend Marvin said "What is wrong with you man?" and there was no response from Wayne. "Yo man, i think you been smoking that crack man, cuz our peoples said you ain't been making no sales" said Marvin. Wayne said "I am, it all started when i just took one hit and i ain't think i would become addicted to this shit, man help me, i don't like being this way" So Marvin checked Wayne into a half way house so he can seek help. For days, nights, weeks, months Wayne had withdrawals, but he finally pulled through and became the old Wayne again. Drug free, but not drug dealing nor gang banging free.
But anyways Wayne as you know from part one of his life was a drug dealer. Wayne also dressed nice and always had alot of money, but until one day his friend started to notice something different about him. He realized that Wayne would also be broke and wasn't dressing like he used to (all G'd up). This is where the major problem starts. One day Wayne mind told him to test the drug he sold, which was crack. But on second thoughts Wayne kept saying yes to his first thought, but yea to his second thought. Before you could get his mind straight, he took a puff from the crack pipe. To hiself he said "It's all right, but it's not something I like". Little did he know, he became addicted from that one puff. The next day when he woke up, he started realizing that he was fiening for this drug, instead of selling it to other people and making money of them, he was busy smoking it all up his self and being broke. As months went by his hood friends started noticing that he Wayne was losing to much weight, skinny as a skeleton, his skin started looking all dark and dry, his clothes weren't clean, and shit neither was he. "Wayne" his friend Marvin said "What is wrong with you man?" and there was no response from Wayne. "Yo man, i think you been smoking that crack man, cuz our peoples said you ain't been making no sales" said Marvin. Wayne said "I am, it all started when i just took one hit and i ain't think i would become addicted to this shit, man help me, i don't like being this way" So Marvin checked Wayne into a half way house so he can seek help. For days, nights, weeks, months Wayne had withdrawals, but he finally pulled through and became the old Wayne again. Drug free, but not drug dealing nor gang banging free.
It all happened so fast its had to recall it all. I remember seeing a deer run from the shoulder. I watched run from the right shoulder in to the on coming traffic. I wondered what is it doing? Is it that dum? I slowed down fearing that I'd be the one to hit the deer. A deer hit on a Thruway could cause a big traffic jamming problem. All of a sudden a Semi flew around me on the right side. I didn't knew he hadn't saw the deer and the minute he did see the deer it was about 5 yards away from hitting he truck. The driver swerved and hit the small car driven by a women in her 30's. I had just switched lanes to over hitting the deer and I was in the far left lane. The same lane as the women. When the truck hit the car it sent the car in the the cement barrier. I was going to fast and I couldn't turn or I would turned into the truck. I slambed in to the back of the woman's car.
The next thing I knew I was laying on a bed alone in a hospital room. I laid on my back looking up at the blank white ceiling. Lights were in rows across the ceiling. The walls of the room were half blue. The top half was an ugly cream color. The floors were tiled. They were almost the same shade of blue as the walls. I turned my head to the right. Though some blue blinds I could see people rushing by. Doctors, nurses, and regular people. I hated staying still I felt fine I wanted to get up and fine out what was going on. I wanted to doctor And that's just what I got. A doctor was at the door on the left side of the room. It was connected to another room vary similar to mine. I could hear him say something to the nurse about the women laying on the bed. I heard him say that the women was in a coma and would probably never come out of it.
The doctor came into my room and I could see x-ray sheets in his hand. He went behind me and out of view. I could hear him put the x-rays on the light box things so that he could see them better.
He stared to talk, "It looks like your arm is broken."
"Broken!?" Shit! I can't play football with a broken arm, knowing Coach Klein.
"Yes and you suffed a concussion as well in your car accident."
"When can I got home?"
"Well I have to keep your over night. Is there any one I can call?"
I laid still for a while reliving the horrific accident. Then I shook it off, closed my eyes and refocused on the doctor, "Yeah, my mom."
Then doctor left the room and within an hour my mom was running in the room, a few tears running down her face. She came over and hugged my head. I lay there with a splitting headache but I didn't tell her. I knew that I had scared her and she needed this moment for herself.
The next morning she came to pick me up. We drove home in silence and routinely I went to my bed and fell back on my bed. I figured that it probably wasn't a good idea to do that after I did it. I jerked my head and it felt like my head split open like a dropped pumpkin.
I went into the bathroom to get some aspirin. That was the first time I had seen my face since the accident. My deep blue once beautiful blues were now an icy light blue color. My long brown hair had dried blood in it. There was cuts and bruises all over on my face. My nose looked like a hockey players nose. I had a big gash on my cheek and it had been stiched with blue thread.
I turned away. I knew they I would heal but I felt like a monster. My once smooth clean shaved face would still contain the scars. The bruises would go away with out and sign there were there. I didn't want to show my face at school ever again. I walked back into my room and plopped back down on my bed forgetting about my head. I closed my eyes and was asleep in an seconds
The next thing I knew I was laying on a bed alone in a hospital room. I laid on my back looking up at the blank white ceiling. Lights were in rows across the ceiling. The walls of the room were half blue. The top half was an ugly cream color. The floors were tiled. They were almost the same shade of blue as the walls. I turned my head to the right. Though some blue blinds I could see people rushing by. Doctors, nurses, and regular people. I hated staying still I felt fine I wanted to get up and fine out what was going on. I wanted to doctor And that's just what I got. A doctor was at the door on the left side of the room. It was connected to another room vary similar to mine. I could hear him say something to the nurse about the women laying on the bed. I heard him say that the women was in a coma and would probably never come out of it.
The doctor came into my room and I could see x-ray sheets in his hand. He went behind me and out of view. I could hear him put the x-rays on the light box things so that he could see them better.
He stared to talk, "It looks like your arm is broken."
"Broken!?" Shit! I can't play football with a broken arm, knowing Coach Klein.
"Yes and you suffed a concussion as well in your car accident."
"When can I got home?"
"Well I have to keep your over night. Is there any one I can call?"
I laid still for a while reliving the horrific accident. Then I shook it off, closed my eyes and refocused on the doctor, "Yeah, my mom."
Then doctor left the room and within an hour my mom was running in the room, a few tears running down her face. She came over and hugged my head. I lay there with a splitting headache but I didn't tell her. I knew that I had scared her and she needed this moment for herself.
The next morning she came to pick me up. We drove home in silence and routinely I went to my bed and fell back on my bed. I figured that it probably wasn't a good idea to do that after I did it. I jerked my head and it felt like my head split open like a dropped pumpkin.
I went into the bathroom to get some aspirin. That was the first time I had seen my face since the accident. My deep blue once beautiful blues were now an icy light blue color. My long brown hair had dried blood in it. There was cuts and bruises all over on my face. My nose looked like a hockey players nose. I had a big gash on my cheek and it had been stiched with blue thread.
I turned away. I knew they I would heal but I felt like a monster. My once smooth clean shaved face would still contain the scars. The bruises would go away with out and sign there were there. I didn't want to show my face at school ever again. I walked back into my room and plopped back down on my bed forgetting about my head. I closed my eyes and was asleep in an seconds
The Life of Mia
The Life of Mia
Mia is sitting on a folding chair with a faded green color on her driveway in front of her garage. The sun is falling down slowly behind a forest of palm trees in the west, and the cars are waiting for the red light to turn green by the crossing by the house next to hers. She’s been living by the crossing of Emerson Dr. and Jupiter Blvd. for about two years now. She couldn’t stand the coldness in New York, not just the weather but the people and atmosphere also. She realize though that moving yourself from one location to another doesn’t change your thoughts. It doesn’t change a thing. She’s still can’t become one with the rest of the world. Am I the only one who actually thinks? She’s wondering. The light turns green, and the engines on Emerson St. starts roaring while the cars on Jupiter Blvd. slows down and then stands motionless. She watches the peoples in the cars driving by. She wonders what their motivation is to go wherever they’re going. They look like fishes, following a stream, destination unknown, but since everyone else is going that way, they follow. But who are “everyone else”, and who are “they”? Who is leading the brainless horde of sheep? Someone had to be the first. Or are they leading each other in a confusing circle where the first one believes that the second one knows how to live at his potential and the second one believes the same thing about the first one? Or are everyone aware of that they are brain dead zombies with noting but dollar signs printed in the back of their eyes and just accept everything just as it is, just because it actually is as it is. Maybe they all are thinking the same thing I’m thinking about. Does that mean that I am a sheep too? Probably. I do a lot of thinking but there’s no action to it. But that should mean that I’m a critical sheep, and to be critical means not dumb enough to fall into the filled pit of denial and stupidity. Maybe I’m stupid to call my own people, myself stupid, because I’m not special. I’m am not some higher creature chosen by God to search for the truth. She sits up from her almost laying position on the chair and grab the rim of her jeans skirt and pull it down toward her knees. She looks down at a tarred hole on her left thigh. The puts her finger in it tries to pull out a loose tread in it. She pulls it off, take it up to her eyes and exanimate it. She moves her arm over the edge of the right side of the chair and release her grip. She watches the tread fall down on the concrete ground and nonchalant turn her head to watch the road again. A white Corvette with its window open is accelerating to beat the red light as the middle lamp is showing yellow. The high base is making the chrome on the car to vibrate. The shade is crawling down Mia’s cheeks and she’s trying get use to not to tense her muscles and squint with her eyes anymore. She leans back on the chair, tilt back her head and brush her fingers through her silk black hair, trying to get the hair off her eyes. A black infinity is turning from Jupiter Blvd. on to Emerson St. A pair of sunglasses are watching Mia from the inside of the windshield from the car. While the car turns, slowly, the eyes are fixed on Mia. She looks back, with a rejecting appearance. The car pass her and move on. What’s up with that? Why is all the guys so freaking obsessed by watching women bodies. Is it something they were born with, some biological urge to fuck everything with boobs and a vagina with their eyes. Maybe it is a survival instinct? The same instinct that makes wild animals be able to hunt for their prey without even being taught how to do it. The instinct that makes the birds fly hundreds of miles toward south in the fall and back again in spring. Does that men that the men on this planet really are fighting against their own instincts, since they actually only imagine having sex with us at many times and acting civilized because of the laws this country made. The laws the people made up. The laws that is based on the people’s morals. Moral. What is that anyway? Is that the little part in all of us that represent our uniqueness, or the soul as a lot of people calls it? Would that be a shorter word for “God’s influence”? So if you don’t believe in God, does that mean you don’t have any moral? I don’t believe, but I have morals. Since everyone has different kind of morals
does that mean that God have different influence on us, or is the soul the place where we store our points for whether we belong in heaven or in hell by gaining experience and interpretive it as we think is the right way, and if it is the way God believes is the right way we score a point. Mia jerks her head back. Her phone is ringing. She stands up, starts walking to the garage. It’s ringing again. She grabs the handle of the screen door that is keeping away not welcomed guests in her garage, and pulls it aside. A third signal is coming from the kitchen. Mia starts running. The one half of the garage is filled with junk. Broken chairs, boxes, dirty tiles, stuffed animals, skateboard wheels, cords, bricks, tarred screens, desks, cracked lamps, filthy car mats, things that a garage sale could never solve, only a curb. Mia runs through the hall in to the kitchen and grab the phone, hanging on the wall during its forth signal.
- Hello. She says, out of breath.
- What up looser? A high voice respond.
She could hear instantly that it was Jolene, her Hispanic friend that lives further down Emerson St. in the inner section of Palm Bay.
- The usual. What are you up to? Mia answers.
- Me, Steph and Roger are going to Cocao. You coming?
Mia turns around and look at the clock hanging above the kitchen table.
- Are you kiddin’ me? You know I’m working tomorrow.
- Common’ Mia. Screw job. Jolene says with her Spanish accent.
- It’s quarter after eight already, I gotta hit the sack by at least eleven.
- Don’t worry, me drive you home. You gotta come. Many nice boys over there.
Mia thinks for a while. She takes down her hand to her butt, grabs her panties from the outside of her skirt and pulls them to a more comfortable spot.
- You’re a fucking pain Jo.
- Yeah, yeah. Me pick you up in ten minutes. Ok?
- What ever. Mia answers.
- See you later.
- Yeah.
Mia slams the phone on its holder. Fucking donkey balls. I have to find something to wear. She runs in to the living room and in to her bed room, opening her closed and unzipping her skirt while she’s reaching for something that looks nice. She pulls down her skirt and kicks it away with her foot up on the bed. She grabs a hanger with a white top, takes it out and hangs it up on the closed door handle. She crosses her arms and grabs the left side of her black top with her right hand and the right side of the top with her left hand and pulls it up over her head. She throws the top on the bed. She’s looking for a pair of pants. She has a lot of pants in her closet. Wow, I’m more materialistic then I thought. Jesus, I could feed a small nation if I would sell all my clothes and use the money for food to the third world. I am an egoistic bastard. Not because I don’t do it, but because I don’t care. Well, this is not a good time to care about that now, hurry, hurry. Man, I’m evil. What the hell. What’s wrong with my conscience? Get out of my head just for a second, please. I got to get dressed. I think to much. Why do I think so much? Do everyone think as much as I do? Why the hell am I thinking about that I’m thinking to much. That’s like shoving food in your mouth because you feel bad because your eating to much. Well, not really. Why am I thinking so much about food. I really should eat something. Oh well, I don’t have time. Got to go. Mia hear a car pulling up on her driveway. She runs to the main door, looks it on the inside, walks out and close the door. She turns around, tilting her head back toward Jolene and Steph. They’re smiling back. The back windows are tinted black but she knows that Roger is in the back seat. She walks to the gray Toyota and opens the right back door.
- Hey girl! How you’re doin’? Steph screams out from the front seat.
At the same time Roger who sits on the left back seat yells out.
- Common’ baby, let’s go find some fine asses!
Roger wears a red and yellow striped scarf around his neck, a fitted maroon vest and tight dark blue jeans.
- Move it! I’m horny! Let’s go guy hunting! Roger screams.
Mia sits down on the right back seat.
- Chill Roger, I’m moving my fat ass as fast as I can! Mia replies.
- You might be slow, but I think that you butt is very attractive. I wish I had your ass. Roger says.
Stephanie turns her head to her right window.
- A real gentleman, isn’t he? She says.
- Hell yeah! Mia answer.
- Ready for Cocao Beach, girls? Jolene says while she’s backing out slowly waiting for one of the cars on the road to let her go.
- Fuck yeah! Roger screams with his high feminine voice.
Steph and I screams at the same time.
- Yeah!
- Let’s roll! Mia says.
Mia stumbles for the keys in her pocket while she’s waving slightly from side to side. She’s squinting with her eyes to better see the lock on her door. She lets her sight go from the door knob and turns her head slowly toward the horn sound from the car speeding up on Emerson St. from backing out from Mia’s driveway. Mia’s sight follows her own eyes like a shadow, a bit behind, but it follows. She waves and smiles silly to Steph who is driving Jolene’s Toyota while her and Roger are sleeping in the backseat, wasted. Stephanie is waving back and then drives away. Mia turns around with her eyes fixed on her door. She’s standing still for a while and disappears for a moment in her thoughtlessness.
- What am I doin’ again? . She’s mumbling to herself while she’s staring at her door handle, leaning forward, almost touching the door with her forehead.
- Oh, right. Keys. She answers to herself.
She takes up her hand from her pocket with the keys in it and lets her eyes rest on the silver colored key while it’s uniting itself with the keyhole. It’s clicking when the key enters the lock. She twist the key and pushes the door open. When she drags her right foot to walk in the door she hits the doorstep and falls in to the hall down on the floor. She’s laying on the cold tile ground, moves her hand and place it under her head. Her eyelids slowly falls down and everything turns black.
- What the fuck! What is the time!? Mia screams while she’s rapidly stands up in the hallway.
The room is moving around when she’s up on her feet. She stands still for a minute, tilts her head down towards the floor and holds her left hand over her eyes. It is still spinning. She removes her hand and let it fall down to the side of her waist. The sun rays lights up the couch and the floor in her living room that can be spotted from where she stands in the hall.
- Fuck! She’s says with a grumbling voice.
She rushes in through the hallway, in to her living room and in to the kitchen. She look at the clock on the wall. It’s nine thirty.
- Mother fucker! She yells out.
Mia looks at the counter, grab her car keys, and run into the garage. She runs into a cardboard box and falls on the hard concrete floor. She swears. She stands up quickly, run around the
front of the black Chevrolet Monte Carlo and opens the driver door. She jump in, puts in the keys in the starting engine and twist it around. She presses the garage opener on her visor and starts backing out.
- Common, common, let’s go! She’s mumbling at the door that slowly moves up.
Why does this happened to me? Fucking Jolene, why did I let her talk me in to this. I’m never going to drink again, or at least eat something before I go out. My boss is going to go ballistic. Ok, it’s not a big deal, just calm down. I am just a little late. I just blame it on the traffic, that always works. Hmm. I’ll get there in half an hour, well, if I speed up a little I might make it in twenty minutes. She backs out the car from the garage out on her driveway. The cars on Emerson St. are forming a non moving line far down the street waiting for the traffic light to turn green on the crossing by Mia’s house. She’s pressing the garage opener again and the wide, white plastic door moves steadily down.
- Common cars, move it! She’s yelling out.
She looks at the mirror right next to her head, moves her hand up and adjusts it. why can’t all these people stay home. Stay home with their families and spend their lives like they should. They only have one life are they going to throw that away by leaving their houses early every morning, do something they recent for seven hours, then go home, watch television, go to bed and then off away to work again. What the hell is up with all this money madness? They buy things that are produced to brake so they have to buy more, that are designed to be used up in shortest possible time period so the company that produces the stuff can earn more money and buy things for themselves that are designed to be replaced as soon as possible. What the hell is that kind of system about? Don’t the sheep realize that they just destroy for themselves? Why are everyone so blind? Because they accept it, because that’s the easiest way? Or is it because they don’t have a choice, since the world we live in is so fucked up and we’re all made us prisoners in our own society. The line is moving and Mia sees a space coming up further down the street.
- Yes baby, common, common. She says.
The last car before the gap passes by and Mia backs up quickly. The yellow light is coming up. She speeds up, look over her left shoulder and makes a U-turn. Finally on my way. She thinks. The digital green numbers on her dashboard shows 9:37.
- Ok. Let’s go now.
She’s letting her right hand off the wheel, moves it up to the mirror and twist it towards her. She looks into the reflection of her face, brush her fingers through her hair and shake the top to make it even messy. She looks on the road, hit the brakes when she sees the red back light of the car in front of her glow up. She jerks forward.
- What the fuck is your problem!? She screams to the stranger that is unknown about the annoyed girl in the black Monte Carlo behind her.
Mia speeds up, put the left blinker on and passes the small, dark blue car she don’t know the type of. She turns her head while she’s side by side with the car. And old, gray haired woman that barely can reach up to the window is sitting hunched over the wheel. Don’t these people know when it’s time to visit a senior complex, or what? Mia thinks to herself. Stupid old lady. Shouldn’t wisdom come with age, since experience comes with age and with experience comes knowledge. But not many old people are very swift. Is that a reaction of their incapability to function as they used to? Is all the pills they’re taking? Is it their memory that fails them and makes many of their experiences useless, or is it just not true that wisdom comes with age? Does it depend on what kind of experience they’ve been exposed to or is it how they store their experience with their morals? But the moral should change with their experience, right? Or is the experiences interpreted differently because of their morals? Maybe there is no such thing as a perfect moral. Maybe all morals are the right ones, since the
individuals believe that their beliefs and ethic is the right one and that makes them the right one for them, and there are really nothing else that matters then what’s right for the individual since then their own life. Their own world they live in, the only world that actually matters. The lights by the crossing of Emerson St. and Minton Rd. turns red and Mia slows down and eventually stands still.
- Jesus Christ! She yells out.
She looks at the clock on the dashboard. It’s 9:45.
- Let’s see some green now baby, common. She’s flirting with the stoplight.
A man in the car in the lane next to her is watching her. Mia glances at him. His skin has a brown hue from tanning to much. He moves his sunglasses down to his nose tip and bend his head forward. Mia ignores him. He looks old. The gray roots is visible under his brown dyed greasy hair. The cars on Minton Rd. stands still. Mia gets green light. She speeds up rapidly to get away from the old man in his big truck with a dusty look from all the days he didn’t wash his car.
After a ten minute driving, fifteen miles an hour above the speed limit she turns in to the IHOP building by Minton Rd. and New Haven Ave. She parks her car in the back by the employees parking lot. Mia walks out of the car and the heat from the sun rays strikes her. She walks toward the backdoor preparing her speech of excuse in her head.
- …and do you know what she said? Steph is finishing her story.
- No, what did she say? Mia said while they were walking out of the backdoor of IHOP towards their cars.
- If you don’t give me a table for one the next five minutes I’m going to personally shove my cane up your supervisor ass so far that he’s going to cough up splinters for a month!
Steph is laughing.
- Can you believe that? A eighty years old som, lady with an attitude like a beast! Man, that was fun as hell. Steph continues.
- Are you serious? That’s fucking crazy! Mia says giggling.
Mia and Stephanie stops.
- Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow, not three hours late this time. Steph says laughing.
- Shut up! It’s your fault and you know it! just because you’re a fucking cyborg doesn’t mean that I’m freakin’ Swartzenegger! Mia replies with a sarcastic tone.
- What ever you say darling. See ya! Steph says while she’s walking to her car.
- See ya Arnold!
Mia walks to her car. The sun warming up her clothes and she misses the air condition in IHOP, but she’s relived that she finally can go home after this stressful day. Her boss was bitching at her and she had to work like a slave to make up for the hours she missed. Mia reaches for the car keys in her pocket. She push the unlock button on the electronic key in her pocket and the car beeps twice and blinking its lights. She walks over to the driver seat door. Stephanie is driving passed her and sound the horn. Mia jerks backwards, turn her head and gives Steph her finger. Stephanie laughs in her car and wave to her and moving on to New Haven Ave. Mia gets in her car. Its boiling inside the car. Mia puts her hand on the wheel but pulls it away quickly.
- Damn, that’s hot! She screams to herself.
She starts the car and put her finger tips gently on the steering wheel. She puts the car in reverse and backs out of her parking space. She starts rolling down to Minton Rd. and stops to wait for a gap between all the bypassing cars.
A number of red lights later she finally pulls in on her driveway. She press the garage opener on her visor and moves slowly with her Monte Carlo in to the delightful shade. She kills the car engine, walk out of the car and close the door. While she’s walking towards the door in to her house she sees the box laying in the path that she fell over earlier that day. She bends over, takes it up and throws it in to a corner. I really should clean up this mess someday she thinks to herself. Promises to yourself are the easiest ones to brake she thinks. She walks in the house and close the door after her.
Hours pass and when the sun is on its way down Mia finds herself back where she belongs. In her green folding chair sitting on her driveway watching the cars go by on Minton Rd. and Jupiter Blvd. I could sit out her forever. To watch the burning sun be replaced by the bright moon, and sense the day turn into night. To feel the breeze sweep through my naked arms and listen to the crickets play in the grass. Mia is leaning back, letting her head lay freely in the air over the edge of the back of the chair. She sky is going from a purple, yellowish color in the west to a dark blue hue in the middle of the giant heaven full of air and freshness. She’s watching an early bright white dot alone in the colossal universe glowing back at her. It makes you feel so small, Mia’s thinking. It’s like nothing matters down here when you compare it to the greatness of the space around us without end and the eternity of time passing. We believe that we are the superior in the world. We weren’t made for the world, the world was made for us. That can’t be. Just because the overgrown reptiles who was walking the earth two hundred millions years ago didn’t have a very large brain doesn’t mean that they doesn’t count. We’ve been around for ten thousand years. Mia pulls her head forward, reach for her cell phone in her pocket. She takes it up, let her hand rest on her lap with the Nokia in her hand. Menu, messages, call log, profiles, settings, gallery, organizer, games, extras. She presses select. Calculator, select. One, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero. Star, star, star, star, two, five, zero. Let’s see. Six zeroes. Zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, select, equal, select. 0.00004 percent. Wow. Mia puts down the cell phone in her pocket, leans back her head and look up to the sky. That’s means that our people has been around for almost no time at all. We are barely an era. We are not even in the beginning of the beginning of an culture. We are just a tiny part of the evolution, still developing against the nature’s laws, the survival of the fittest. We’ve created our own nature. The nature of the new civilization. A nature where materialistic possessions are the essential survival for the fresh race of ours. It’s a time when the need to staying alive is not longer an issue, but obtaining respect. But when we used up all the substances that takes millions of years for the earth to produce, and when we send out all our recyclable materials out in space, when we chopped down the forests, then the only skills that will count is the survival instinct. An instinct that will be forgotten in our cozy, convenient society a long time ago. The traffic light on Emerson St. is turning red and the cars stops. Mia feels peace. She feels harmony in the cars roaring in the warm spring night. She feels freedom on her driveway falling deep in her own thought, the only part of her that no one can touch. She smiles, cross her arms and leans back in a comfortable position. Wonder if it matters, all the actions I’ve made during my life, good or bad. All people that influenced me and that I’ve given influence to. All my thoughts I’ve ever had. Is it all documented somewhere. Is someone watching me right now, hearing my thoughts? That would be embarrassing, but still I would feel honored. That would be a proof of my existence. It would make me immortal. Even when my body is for long gone, the inner me will forever be alive. The life of Mia.
Mia is sitting on a folding chair with a faded green color on her driveway in front of her garage. The sun is falling down slowly behind a forest of palm trees in the west, and the cars are waiting for the red light to turn green by the crossing by the house next to hers. She’s been living by the crossing of Emerson Dr. and Jupiter Blvd. for about two years now. She couldn’t stand the coldness in New York, not just the weather but the people and atmosphere also. She realize though that moving yourself from one location to another doesn’t change your thoughts. It doesn’t change a thing. She’s still can’t become one with the rest of the world. Am I the only one who actually thinks? She’s wondering. The light turns green, and the engines on Emerson St. starts roaring while the cars on Jupiter Blvd. slows down and then stands motionless. She watches the peoples in the cars driving by. She wonders what their motivation is to go wherever they’re going. They look like fishes, following a stream, destination unknown, but since everyone else is going that way, they follow. But who are “everyone else”, and who are “they”? Who is leading the brainless horde of sheep? Someone had to be the first. Or are they leading each other in a confusing circle where the first one believes that the second one knows how to live at his potential and the second one believes the same thing about the first one? Or are everyone aware of that they are brain dead zombies with noting but dollar signs printed in the back of their eyes and just accept everything just as it is, just because it actually is as it is. Maybe they all are thinking the same thing I’m thinking about. Does that mean that I am a sheep too? Probably. I do a lot of thinking but there’s no action to it. But that should mean that I’m a critical sheep, and to be critical means not dumb enough to fall into the filled pit of denial and stupidity. Maybe I’m stupid to call my own people, myself stupid, because I’m not special. I’m am not some higher creature chosen by God to search for the truth. She sits up from her almost laying position on the chair and grab the rim of her jeans skirt and pull it down toward her knees. She looks down at a tarred hole on her left thigh. The puts her finger in it tries to pull out a loose tread in it. She pulls it off, take it up to her eyes and exanimate it. She moves her arm over the edge of the right side of the chair and release her grip. She watches the tread fall down on the concrete ground and nonchalant turn her head to watch the road again. A white Corvette with its window open is accelerating to beat the red light as the middle lamp is showing yellow. The high base is making the chrome on the car to vibrate. The shade is crawling down Mia’s cheeks and she’s trying get use to not to tense her muscles and squint with her eyes anymore. She leans back on the chair, tilt back her head and brush her fingers through her silk black hair, trying to get the hair off her eyes. A black infinity is turning from Jupiter Blvd. on to Emerson St. A pair of sunglasses are watching Mia from the inside of the windshield from the car. While the car turns, slowly, the eyes are fixed on Mia. She looks back, with a rejecting appearance. The car pass her and move on. What’s up with that? Why is all the guys so freaking obsessed by watching women bodies. Is it something they were born with, some biological urge to fuck everything with boobs and a vagina with their eyes. Maybe it is a survival instinct? The same instinct that makes wild animals be able to hunt for their prey without even being taught how to do it. The instinct that makes the birds fly hundreds of miles toward south in the fall and back again in spring. Does that men that the men on this planet really are fighting against their own instincts, since they actually only imagine having sex with us at many times and acting civilized because of the laws this country made. The laws the people made up. The laws that is based on the people’s morals. Moral. What is that anyway? Is that the little part in all of us that represent our uniqueness, or the soul as a lot of people calls it? Would that be a shorter word for “God’s influence”? So if you don’t believe in God, does that mean you don’t have any moral? I don’t believe, but I have morals. Since everyone has different kind of morals
does that mean that God have different influence on us, or is the soul the place where we store our points for whether we belong in heaven or in hell by gaining experience and interpretive it as we think is the right way, and if it is the way God believes is the right way we score a point. Mia jerks her head back. Her phone is ringing. She stands up, starts walking to the garage. It’s ringing again. She grabs the handle of the screen door that is keeping away not welcomed guests in her garage, and pulls it aside. A third signal is coming from the kitchen. Mia starts running. The one half of the garage is filled with junk. Broken chairs, boxes, dirty tiles, stuffed animals, skateboard wheels, cords, bricks, tarred screens, desks, cracked lamps, filthy car mats, things that a garage sale could never solve, only a curb. Mia runs through the hall in to the kitchen and grab the phone, hanging on the wall during its forth signal.
- Hello. She says, out of breath.
- What up looser? A high voice respond.
She could hear instantly that it was Jolene, her Hispanic friend that lives further down Emerson St. in the inner section of Palm Bay.
- The usual. What are you up to? Mia answers.
- Me, Steph and Roger are going to Cocao. You coming?
Mia turns around and look at the clock hanging above the kitchen table.
- Are you kiddin’ me? You know I’m working tomorrow.
- Common’ Mia. Screw job. Jolene says with her Spanish accent.
- It’s quarter after eight already, I gotta hit the sack by at least eleven.
- Don’t worry, me drive you home. You gotta come. Many nice boys over there.
Mia thinks for a while. She takes down her hand to her butt, grabs her panties from the outside of her skirt and pulls them to a more comfortable spot.
- You’re a fucking pain Jo.
- Yeah, yeah. Me pick you up in ten minutes. Ok?
- What ever. Mia answers.
- See you later.
- Yeah.
Mia slams the phone on its holder. Fucking donkey balls. I have to find something to wear. She runs in to the living room and in to her bed room, opening her closed and unzipping her skirt while she’s reaching for something that looks nice. She pulls down her skirt and kicks it away with her foot up on the bed. She grabs a hanger with a white top, takes it out and hangs it up on the closed door handle. She crosses her arms and grabs the left side of her black top with her right hand and the right side of the top with her left hand and pulls it up over her head. She throws the top on the bed. She’s looking for a pair of pants. She has a lot of pants in her closet. Wow, I’m more materialistic then I thought. Jesus, I could feed a small nation if I would sell all my clothes and use the money for food to the third world. I am an egoistic bastard. Not because I don’t do it, but because I don’t care. Well, this is not a good time to care about that now, hurry, hurry. Man, I’m evil. What the hell. What’s wrong with my conscience? Get out of my head just for a second, please. I got to get dressed. I think to much. Why do I think so much? Do everyone think as much as I do? Why the hell am I thinking about that I’m thinking to much. That’s like shoving food in your mouth because you feel bad because your eating to much. Well, not really. Why am I thinking so much about food. I really should eat something. Oh well, I don’t have time. Got to go. Mia hear a car pulling up on her driveway. She runs to the main door, looks it on the inside, walks out and close the door. She turns around, tilting her head back toward Jolene and Steph. They’re smiling back. The back windows are tinted black but she knows that Roger is in the back seat. She walks to the gray Toyota and opens the right back door.
- Hey girl! How you’re doin’? Steph screams out from the front seat.
At the same time Roger who sits on the left back seat yells out.
- Common’ baby, let’s go find some fine asses!
Roger wears a red and yellow striped scarf around his neck, a fitted maroon vest and tight dark blue jeans.
- Move it! I’m horny! Let’s go guy hunting! Roger screams.
Mia sits down on the right back seat.
- Chill Roger, I’m moving my fat ass as fast as I can! Mia replies.
- You might be slow, but I think that you butt is very attractive. I wish I had your ass. Roger says.
Stephanie turns her head to her right window.
- A real gentleman, isn’t he? She says.
- Hell yeah! Mia answer.
- Ready for Cocao Beach, girls? Jolene says while she’s backing out slowly waiting for one of the cars on the road to let her go.
- Fuck yeah! Roger screams with his high feminine voice.
Steph and I screams at the same time.
- Yeah!
- Let’s roll! Mia says.
Mia stumbles for the keys in her pocket while she’s waving slightly from side to side. She’s squinting with her eyes to better see the lock on her door. She lets her sight go from the door knob and turns her head slowly toward the horn sound from the car speeding up on Emerson St. from backing out from Mia’s driveway. Mia’s sight follows her own eyes like a shadow, a bit behind, but it follows. She waves and smiles silly to Steph who is driving Jolene’s Toyota while her and Roger are sleeping in the backseat, wasted. Stephanie is waving back and then drives away. Mia turns around with her eyes fixed on her door. She’s standing still for a while and disappears for a moment in her thoughtlessness.
- What am I doin’ again? . She’s mumbling to herself while she’s staring at her door handle, leaning forward, almost touching the door with her forehead.
- Oh, right. Keys. She answers to herself.
She takes up her hand from her pocket with the keys in it and lets her eyes rest on the silver colored key while it’s uniting itself with the keyhole. It’s clicking when the key enters the lock. She twist the key and pushes the door open. When she drags her right foot to walk in the door she hits the doorstep and falls in to the hall down on the floor. She’s laying on the cold tile ground, moves her hand and place it under her head. Her eyelids slowly falls down and everything turns black.
- What the fuck! What is the time!? Mia screams while she’s rapidly stands up in the hallway.
The room is moving around when she’s up on her feet. She stands still for a minute, tilts her head down towards the floor and holds her left hand over her eyes. It is still spinning. She removes her hand and let it fall down to the side of her waist. The sun rays lights up the couch and the floor in her living room that can be spotted from where she stands in the hall.
- Fuck! She’s says with a grumbling voice.
She rushes in through the hallway, in to her living room and in to the kitchen. She look at the clock on the wall. It’s nine thirty.
- Mother fucker! She yells out.
Mia looks at the counter, grab her car keys, and run into the garage. She runs into a cardboard box and falls on the hard concrete floor. She swears. She stands up quickly, run around the
front of the black Chevrolet Monte Carlo and opens the driver door. She jump in, puts in the keys in the starting engine and twist it around. She presses the garage opener on her visor and starts backing out.
- Common, common, let’s go! She’s mumbling at the door that slowly moves up.
Why does this happened to me? Fucking Jolene, why did I let her talk me in to this. I’m never going to drink again, or at least eat something before I go out. My boss is going to go ballistic. Ok, it’s not a big deal, just calm down. I am just a little late. I just blame it on the traffic, that always works. Hmm. I’ll get there in half an hour, well, if I speed up a little I might make it in twenty minutes. She backs out the car from the garage out on her driveway. The cars on Emerson St. are forming a non moving line far down the street waiting for the traffic light to turn green on the crossing by Mia’s house. She’s pressing the garage opener again and the wide, white plastic door moves steadily down.
- Common cars, move it! She’s yelling out.
She looks at the mirror right next to her head, moves her hand up and adjusts it. why can’t all these people stay home. Stay home with their families and spend their lives like they should. They only have one life are they going to throw that away by leaving their houses early every morning, do something they recent for seven hours, then go home, watch television, go to bed and then off away to work again. What the hell is up with all this money madness? They buy things that are produced to brake so they have to buy more, that are designed to be used up in shortest possible time period so the company that produces the stuff can earn more money and buy things for themselves that are designed to be replaced as soon as possible. What the hell is that kind of system about? Don’t the sheep realize that they just destroy for themselves? Why are everyone so blind? Because they accept it, because that’s the easiest way? Or is it because they don’t have a choice, since the world we live in is so fucked up and we’re all made us prisoners in our own society. The line is moving and Mia sees a space coming up further down the street.
- Yes baby, common, common. She says.
The last car before the gap passes by and Mia backs up quickly. The yellow light is coming up. She speeds up, look over her left shoulder and makes a U-turn. Finally on my way. She thinks. The digital green numbers on her dashboard shows 9:37.
- Ok. Let’s go now.
She’s letting her right hand off the wheel, moves it up to the mirror and twist it towards her. She looks into the reflection of her face, brush her fingers through her hair and shake the top to make it even messy. She looks on the road, hit the brakes when she sees the red back light of the car in front of her glow up. She jerks forward.
- What the fuck is your problem!? She screams to the stranger that is unknown about the annoyed girl in the black Monte Carlo behind her.
Mia speeds up, put the left blinker on and passes the small, dark blue car she don’t know the type of. She turns her head while she’s side by side with the car. And old, gray haired woman that barely can reach up to the window is sitting hunched over the wheel. Don’t these people know when it’s time to visit a senior complex, or what? Mia thinks to herself. Stupid old lady. Shouldn’t wisdom come with age, since experience comes with age and with experience comes knowledge. But not many old people are very swift. Is that a reaction of their incapability to function as they used to? Is all the pills they’re taking? Is it their memory that fails them and makes many of their experiences useless, or is it just not true that wisdom comes with age? Does it depend on what kind of experience they’ve been exposed to or is it how they store their experience with their morals? But the moral should change with their experience, right? Or is the experiences interpreted differently because of their morals? Maybe there is no such thing as a perfect moral. Maybe all morals are the right ones, since the
individuals believe that their beliefs and ethic is the right one and that makes them the right one for them, and there are really nothing else that matters then what’s right for the individual since then their own life. Their own world they live in, the only world that actually matters. The lights by the crossing of Emerson St. and Minton Rd. turns red and Mia slows down and eventually stands still.
- Jesus Christ! She yells out.
She looks at the clock on the dashboard. It’s 9:45.
- Let’s see some green now baby, common. She’s flirting with the stoplight.
A man in the car in the lane next to her is watching her. Mia glances at him. His skin has a brown hue from tanning to much. He moves his sunglasses down to his nose tip and bend his head forward. Mia ignores him. He looks old. The gray roots is visible under his brown dyed greasy hair. The cars on Minton Rd. stands still. Mia gets green light. She speeds up rapidly to get away from the old man in his big truck with a dusty look from all the days he didn’t wash his car.
After a ten minute driving, fifteen miles an hour above the speed limit she turns in to the IHOP building by Minton Rd. and New Haven Ave. She parks her car in the back by the employees parking lot. Mia walks out of the car and the heat from the sun rays strikes her. She walks toward the backdoor preparing her speech of excuse in her head.
- …and do you know what she said? Steph is finishing her story.
- No, what did she say? Mia said while they were walking out of the backdoor of IHOP towards their cars.
- If you don’t give me a table for one the next five minutes I’m going to personally shove my cane up your supervisor ass so far that he’s going to cough up splinters for a month!
Steph is laughing.
- Can you believe that? A eighty years old som, lady with an attitude like a beast! Man, that was fun as hell. Steph continues.
- Are you serious? That’s fucking crazy! Mia says giggling.
Mia and Stephanie stops.
- Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow, not three hours late this time. Steph says laughing.
- Shut up! It’s your fault and you know it! just because you’re a fucking cyborg doesn’t mean that I’m freakin’ Swartzenegger! Mia replies with a sarcastic tone.
- What ever you say darling. See ya! Steph says while she’s walking to her car.
- See ya Arnold!
Mia walks to her car. The sun warming up her clothes and she misses the air condition in IHOP, but she’s relived that she finally can go home after this stressful day. Her boss was bitching at her and she had to work like a slave to make up for the hours she missed. Mia reaches for the car keys in her pocket. She push the unlock button on the electronic key in her pocket and the car beeps twice and blinking its lights. She walks over to the driver seat door. Stephanie is driving passed her and sound the horn. Mia jerks backwards, turn her head and gives Steph her finger. Stephanie laughs in her car and wave to her and moving on to New Haven Ave. Mia gets in her car. Its boiling inside the car. Mia puts her hand on the wheel but pulls it away quickly.
- Damn, that’s hot! She screams to herself.
She starts the car and put her finger tips gently on the steering wheel. She puts the car in reverse and backs out of her parking space. She starts rolling down to Minton Rd. and stops to wait for a gap between all the bypassing cars.
A number of red lights later she finally pulls in on her driveway. She press the garage opener on her visor and moves slowly with her Monte Carlo in to the delightful shade. She kills the car engine, walk out of the car and close the door. While she’s walking towards the door in to her house she sees the box laying in the path that she fell over earlier that day. She bends over, takes it up and throws it in to a corner. I really should clean up this mess someday she thinks to herself. Promises to yourself are the easiest ones to brake she thinks. She walks in the house and close the door after her.
Hours pass and when the sun is on its way down Mia finds herself back where she belongs. In her green folding chair sitting on her driveway watching the cars go by on Minton Rd. and Jupiter Blvd. I could sit out her forever. To watch the burning sun be replaced by the bright moon, and sense the day turn into night. To feel the breeze sweep through my naked arms and listen to the crickets play in the grass. Mia is leaning back, letting her head lay freely in the air over the edge of the back of the chair. She sky is going from a purple, yellowish color in the west to a dark blue hue in the middle of the giant heaven full of air and freshness. She’s watching an early bright white dot alone in the colossal universe glowing back at her. It makes you feel so small, Mia’s thinking. It’s like nothing matters down here when you compare it to the greatness of the space around us without end and the eternity of time passing. We believe that we are the superior in the world. We weren’t made for the world, the world was made for us. That can’t be. Just because the overgrown reptiles who was walking the earth two hundred millions years ago didn’t have a very large brain doesn’t mean that they doesn’t count. We’ve been around for ten thousand years. Mia pulls her head forward, reach for her cell phone in her pocket. She takes it up, let her hand rest on her lap with the Nokia in her hand. Menu, messages, call log, profiles, settings, gallery, organizer, games, extras. She presses select. Calculator, select. One, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero. Star, star, star, star, two, five, zero. Let’s see. Six zeroes. Zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, select, equal, select. 0.00004 percent. Wow. Mia puts down the cell phone in her pocket, leans back her head and look up to the sky. That’s means that our people has been around for almost no time at all. We are barely an era. We are not even in the beginning of the beginning of an culture. We are just a tiny part of the evolution, still developing against the nature’s laws, the survival of the fittest. We’ve created our own nature. The nature of the new civilization. A nature where materialistic possessions are the essential survival for the fresh race of ours. It’s a time when the need to staying alive is not longer an issue, but obtaining respect. But when we used up all the substances that takes millions of years for the earth to produce, and when we send out all our recyclable materials out in space, when we chopped down the forests, then the only skills that will count is the survival instinct. An instinct that will be forgotten in our cozy, convenient society a long time ago. The traffic light on Emerson St. is turning red and the cars stops. Mia feels peace. She feels harmony in the cars roaring in the warm spring night. She feels freedom on her driveway falling deep in her own thought, the only part of her that no one can touch. She smiles, cross her arms and leans back in a comfortable position. Wonder if it matters, all the actions I’ve made during my life, good or bad. All people that influenced me and that I’ve given influence to. All my thoughts I’ve ever had. Is it all documented somewhere. Is someone watching me right now, hearing my thoughts? That would be embarrassing, but still I would feel honored. That would be a proof of my existence. It would make me immortal. Even when my body is for long gone, the inner me will forever be alive. The life of Mia.
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