It's All Happening

Penny: Speaking of the world. I've made a decision. I'm going to live in Morocco for one year. I need a new crowd. ...do you wanna come?

Nina Says...

I can feel an itch. It is burried deep within my chest, very near to my heart. It is small, but it is growing. It is persistant and undeniable. I can feel it when the wind changes its course. I must change with it. I have grown so tired of this place, these people... this life. This rat race has become predictable and boring. It's time to run with a new herd, and with a new purpose. I will no longer be content if I stay.

I only planned to put off my dreams to be lazy for a bit. But a little while turned into a long while which has now turned into too long a while. And the thought of becoming an old lady with a head full of what could have been sounds like the most painful death I can think of.

Action is required. Danger is craved. The unkown is waiting for me. And it won't beckon forever.

It's time to go. I will let you know where when I get there.

My Own Revenge

Sparky says...

I never enjoyed high school. It was and still is a common misconception that I was shy in high school. This couldn't be further from the truth, I was not shy in the least. The popular kids who secretly held conversations with me while cheating off my tests in class could attest (if they actually fessed up to the fact) that once you engaged me in conversation, not only was I a pretty friendly kid, but I was also smart, witty, and surprisingly well-versed in the ways of the great, big, wide world. What most people mistook for shyness was actually disgust, possibly even hatred, for the cliquy highschool society that forced me into the outskirts to fend completely by and for myself. You see, what you have to understand about my highschool experience is the depths of my solidarity. There really was no place for me in that world. There was no real place for a cripple amongst the rich, Morman prom queens, nor the overachieving geeks who all assumed I must be stupid, nor the wannabe loner goth kids who found my genuine freakiness far too threatening. And I was never helpless enough to fit in with my fellow handicap peers, who felt content in the special ed classes where they could revel in their laziness. (I suppose it is only fair to mention as well that I was a bit pudgy back then. And any fat kid is going to find it difficult to fit in.) And the most ironic part of the whole story was EVERYONE knew who I was. How could they not?

Now before you start feeling too bad for my former angsty self, let me reassure you that I had no real desire to fit in. Being forced into the position of a spectator, I got to see all aspects of this fake society for the joke it really was. And even then I knew that after graduation, none of it would matter in the real world. So I figured, why try to achieve greatness in this place? I knew my place was somewhere in the real world, waiting for me. So my teen years became about one thing only: survival. And in a fake world where the satus quo is ruled by a majority you stand no chance in a hell of being a part of, there was only one way to survive: offense. Hence, why I chose to hate everyone.

Highschool is over now, and has been for a while. And I never have to go back. And that place in the real world that I knew was waiting for me is more awesome than I could have ever imagined. Especially when I run into those pathetic sons-a-bitches I graduated with. I love the look on the girls faces when they see me at the bar, on their night away from their boring husband and pesky children, which are really all they have. They still don't know what to make of me, only their lack of prowess over me in the real world has now turned their supposed power into utter confusion. I love the awkward conversation that always accompanies the nostalgic meeting. It is filled with cordial greetings while they try to convince themselves (not me) that we were actually friends back in the day. It usually ends with them condiscendingly telling me, "Well it is just so great to see you out and about, doing your own thing!" Followed by my response of "Oh thanks so much, darling. I do what I can," dripping with apparent sarcasm, afterwhich I return to my table of boys who have another drink waiting for me. And even better than the subtle, yet bittersweet, revenge on the formerly popular girls, is the shock of the boys who spent their time ignoring me. I love the up and down look they give me when the skinner version of myself stands up to give them hug. I love how conflicted they are, staring at this girl in a wheelchair who SHOULD be ugly...but she's not. They are attracted to me, while deep down feeling guilty about it. Some even come right out and say things like "My God! You really do look amazing! ...not that you didn't before...but you know what I mean. Haha. Can I buy you a drink?" To which I graciously decline, pointing to the table of gentlemen waiting for me to return. And then off I go, with them staring baffled at the brakelights of my scooter.

I dare say there is almost nothing I love more than reinvention.

Eat your hearts out, you dirty dogs. Your awe brings me the sickest joy.

A Very Long Day

mind fuck:
Something that seriously fucks with your brain, such as watching Fight Club every night for a week. Trust me on this.

- www.urbandictionary.com

Amanda says...

I have never believed in giving up, no matter what. But sometimes, it is best to simply accept people for who they are. Including ourselves.


Susie says...

This day won't seem to end. I find myself off my game today. Perhaps it is because I have been playing all day... the same, horrible game.

Bad weather on the East coast meant cancelled/delayed flights galore. Or the deepest bowls of Hell at work, that's accurate as well. I spent eight hours straight on the phones, more than half of which was spent talking to people who weren't really paying attention to what I had to say the first time around. Or the second. So most of the day was spent repeating myself over and over and over again. And almost everyone I spoke to was pissy from the get-go. Thank God for caffiene. It allows you to keep going and going and going. Just to add an extra kick in the ass when I was already feeling 10 feet under, I got caught in a downpour that included hail on the way to my car after I was finally done working, which completely soaked me. And now, I have to go back for a shift from 4:00 a.m. to 7:00 a.m. A stray shift I happened to pick up. We have been so slow the past few months and I was convinced I could get the little three hour shift off. First busy day HAD to be today. Joy.

In between my shifts, I didn't have time to do much aside from eat and nap for a bit. So in an act of pure desperation, after a truly gruesome day, I attempted to vent off a little steam. I tried to actually have a conversation with that degenerate of a roommate of mine. I simply had no one else. Since he was under the influence of both marijuanna and alcohol, the conversation was a punch-line short of the biggest joke in the entire world. Not only did he proceed to constantly interrupt me, going off on totally irrelevant tangants, he also did the exact same thing that all my customers did all day long: ignored me and forced me to repeat myself, drunkenly swearing to me, "No, really, I am totally listening this time!"

I am hanging on by a very fine thread, made of fail-safe manners and adrenaline. Coffee don't fail me now.


Nina...

I love how theraputic music is. I just put on those headphones and disappear. It took a little while to find just the perfect thing today, shuffling through Norah Jones, Regina Spektor and Jill Sobule... I needed something soothing but bitterly true. And then...there she was, as she always is. Nina Simone. Telling me, "Dont forget get to sing with lust!" And so I did, belting out the words to I Put A Spell On You, Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood, and eventually Feeling Good . And I felt oh so good. I then drifted off to the good memories of Steel Train, and proceeded to Kill Monsters in the Rain while I was sleeping.

When I woke up, I found good company in my little brother. Just like the good, old days, we lit up a joint and proceeded to reminsce and talk about nonsense. A good conversation about the little things in life that are still important to talk about. The things that are good for the soul.

A perfect wind-down and reboot. Just what I needed.


Lacey says...

I hate long, busy days where I constantly have to be social. It clogs up my mind with thick bullshit. My mind isn't even quiet when I sleep on a day like this. All I do is have nightmares, getting no real rest at all.


Sparky says...

Family is the best. They humor you while you pour your heart out to them, pull you out of your funk by talking about something completely different, then pump you up for your next round of life with blatently honest and ridiculous motovational speeches. "Come on now...it's Eye of the Tiger time! You have got to be like Rocky, ready to take down that fucking Russian guy! Or ya know...whatever he was."

Okay... It's been a long, taxing, and sometimes treacherous battle. You have fought and fallen courageously, proving yourself the victor more times than not. I know it's been a tough war and you are exhausted, but it is time for the final, epic stance. And you will be rewarded for your well-earned success with hours upon hours of glorilously un-interrupted rest. And the satisfaction of knowing you are a champ.

It's time to focus. Turn on Painkiller by Judas Priest, twist that volume dial till it's as loud as it will go, and scream along to the words you know so well. Put on your Grrrrrrrrr face.

Let's do this fucking thing!