Sinner

She sits in her little corner of earth, of the coffee shop, hands gripping the cup as if she was holding onto it for dear life, as if letting go would cause chaos in the little world. Oh, but now, now something is different...she is afraid: she cannot write, she cannot think...

To the Lord I pray for my soul, the sinner that I am, and even though I am told that judgement waits for me before God alone, I feel as if the secular judgement has been passed. I am a slacker in a go-getter world, a procrastinator. I feel it, every bone in my body pleading to just do something, have plans, look smart, impress people. But how can I? How can I impress anyone when I am sure that they will see through my ruse? I am just a drifter, content to the shade of life, to observe all that goes on around me. But I am much worse than that, a sin greater than evil, should there ever be such a thing...I am a hypocrite, oh such a hypocrite that my skin burns with shame in the light of day. I pretend to be smart, I pretend to know things, I pretend that I can impart knowledge to people, when sadly, this is not the case. And as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know that I have committed that sin, the unforgivable one, of always, always being wrong, of always saying the wrong thing, of pretending that I know anything. Some would call it low self esteem, but those who have such "high" self esteem are nothing but egotists. Some would say that it was the men but if men were to blame for my feeling this way, then I could restrict contact with them and feel better. But that does not work, so I'm left with my best guess, that it's me that's to blame for my hypocracy. And I, I am the worst of the worst: I am an idiot savant yet I have no one item that I excell in. So does that leave me with just plain idiot? I am not intelligent, I am not anything of worth or note, and truthfully, if anyone's reading this besides me, I could chatise you further for reading the writings of those who are ignorant, as if my ingnorance serves your amusement. But I assume that you don't read this and that's fine with me, I will go living in my fastasy world....

She puts down her coffee cup. "Hey, there," one of her friends says. "Haven't seen you in awhile."
"Yeah," she replies, "I've had a lot of school work."
"Oh. I've just been trying to get a job."
"What's it been? Six, seven months?"
"Yeah. No one'll hire me. Oh, well. So, you wanna play some cards? Oh, and do you have a quarter so I could get a refill on my coffee? I don't want them kicking me out of here again."

And she wonders how worlds collide.......

A Funny

Scene: A short man and a shorter woman walk up to the counter at the bus station. A clerk sits behind the counter and in front of a computer. The two people are the only people at the counter.

Man: Um, do you have, um, a bus that goes to uh, [Somewhere, Texas]?

Clerk: Yes, I do. I have one that leaves tonight at 8 pm and another that leaves tomorrow at 7 pm.

Man: Uh, how much would it cost for two people to go?

Clerk: Two hundred and forty-seven dollars.

Man [pauses, then with straight face and serious tone]: Is that for, like, me and another person?

[A pause. Woman bursts out laughing. Clerk begins to chuckle. Man is confused.]

Man: What?

Woman: I can't BELIEVE you just said that!

**************
One day, I'm going to write a musical or a stage play about my life. This scene actually took place and my friend didn't really understand the dumb question he'd asked until I started to laugh. To this day, we still joke about it, and if he gets a bit too overconfident (which is quite a bit, let me assure you), I remind him of this little scene by saying, "Is that for, like, me and another person?"

A Rambling to "John"
Hey, John, I'm over here...

Yeah, well, I guess you'll ignore me. I waved at you when you walked in and I guess I'm just not entertaining enough for you to sit and talk to me. This always seems to be the problem with you. I don't mean to be rude, but you used to actually talk to me a long time ago. I wasn't really all that entertaining then either, but somehow you didn't care. Or maybe it's the fact that you've analyzed me enough, figured me out, and decided to move on to the next subject. It's funny how you do that...you oversimplify the complex people and overanalyze the simple people. It would be arrogant of you to think that you've collected enough data on me to state any hypothesis concerning my psyche. I know this for a fact because if I haven't figured myself out yet, I know you wouldn't be able to try. You're not that smart. But then I think that's why you don't hang out with me anymore. I figured out the secret: You're not that smart. I roll my eyes at that. Look around at some of the other people I hang out with, doofus, they're not exactly brain surgeons and rocket scientists. Could it be the drugs? Again, I hang out with a lot of people who do such things (thankfully, not in my presence) and even though I don't do drugs, I still can manage to have a conversation with people who do. I don't understand why you are so silly and hung-up about things...and why you project your hang-ups and insecurites upon other people. I guess that's secret number two that I know...

Now that I think about it, maybe I'm the one who has you figured out and that's why you're ignoring me. Again, I roll my eyes at that. Everybody's ugly in one way or another, everybody's beautiful in one way or another. Just because I know a few truths doesn't mean anything. If you really listened and actually paid attention, you'd know more about me than you think but I know that you haven't because I have connections that tell me things. Here's one for ya: I'm the spy in life and you're not. You only think you are. Ugh, if I didn't actually like you, I could easily forget you existed and would have no reason to talk/think/write about you. And that's where I roll my eyes at myself for being such a "girl". My first drunken reaction to you saying, "I miss you" was, "Oh, how sweet". But then I thought about it. You were the one who was ignoring me. I came up to you to say hello, and you said it back, but after that, you pretended like I wasn't there. So then I didn't even bother to say hello. What would have been the point? And then, just randomly, you came into The Palace of Rock to say hello to me. Oh, I forgot, you were bored. When I was sober, I was mad. You're the one ignoring me, you lament that you miss me (it's your fault of course), and then you expect me to be nice to you? HA! NOT ON YOUR LIFE! I've missed you and was a little hurt that suddenly you couldn't even be bothered to say hello to me. And then you bother me while I'm drinking, whining about how you miss me? I missed you first. I hope you notice that I'm not around as much anymore and it only has to do with the fact that if I run into you, I still have enough mad in me to punch you. The funny thing is, I think you're just staying away to let me cool down...and I'm laughing because that is the last thing you should do. When I'm mad and I make it known, those who know me know that they should listen to me rant. Otherwise, it just gets worse...

So, um, that would be a reason for you to start talking to me again...

God, I'm such a girl.

Window
She turns her head slightly to the noise which had startled her and out of the corner of her eye, she seems to notice a figure clad in black, looking at her through the window, reading the journal in which she writes all of her fears and hopes and dreams and the like. She turns to the window, startled that someone is there, but the figure is not there and she shakes her head at herself, wondering why she is feeling this paranoid. She goes back to writing -- or, for today, trying to write because the words are stuck in her head and the hand won't translate them onto the paper. She has the feeling that someone is watching her, she turns her head again, and then, startled, she takes a full glance at nothing. It would just be the night or the mood she was in only if it happened a few times but this is the fifth time she has been startled and she begins to wonder what could be wrong. She does not understand why out of the corner of her eye she distinctly sees someone standing there only to find that no such soul exists. She has a fantastical nature and suddenly it is as if the characters that she's created have jumped out of the story and into her life as reality. She dismissed the notion that such a thing could happen, a product of her imagination coming to life, knowing full well that she's watched too much Twilight Zone, refusing to believe that is what her life is like. So she goes back to writing as if she can write and the shadowless figure continues to plague her and she'll just dismiss her paranoia as just plain fanciful.

For James
My world is here friend, amid the streets and the trash and the drink and the drugs...But I am one who merely observes the way in which humanity struggles. My own right to struggle has been shadowed by those whose lives are worse than mine. My problems are my own as is the case with the world that we have our own worlds to deal with no thought of what is outside of our heads...But then I catch a glimpse of the outside and I wonder what we are missing when we are hiding inside our heads. I pray and I preach to lonely masses with problems out of concern not for any deity but for humanity and our survival. My tools wouldn't fit in the smallest trinket box but they are too large to store in a warehouse...And armed with these reminants of everyone's being I try to help those who are desparately seeking a path to enlighten themselves out of their state. But where Soul can prevail the logic takes over to justify just one more drink...The logic in hand is faulty no less but Soul has learned not to argue with Head and again Soul takes refuge in an inconspicuous spot of the brain, sighing and knowing that once again it has failed. I wait for the moment in somebody's life when Soul stands up to Head and with loud reverberating candor says, "I for one have had enough, you rule no more, now it is I that you must contend with." And then an interesting transition occurs where Soul runs naked through the streets and the alleys in sheer terror and joy, the crying laughter echoing upon city walls. Soul is free once again but Head waits patiently and logically to make a move of its own, just when Soul can't handle the practical matters that Head does with indifference. It eventually happens, over and over again, this pendulum swing of logic and feeling...Those who are lucky will have the pendulum balance itself and for those who are not lucky, they will endure with the struggle. At any one moment in time, at any one moment in space, life will change and the unlucky ones try to battle it out but they fail to see their struggle within and only when these unlucky souls realize that any one moment in life is temporary will they unlock the key to their misery and live with the world outside of their head.

random
I sit and debate, should I wait, or should I just go out to the real world and find my future? And where in the world will I ever end up if I end up in the same space that I've been in before? All roads lead to here and I've tried to get to there but the roads that go there inevitably have detours that point back to here. I just once would like to experience lost and to know what it feels like to have no more plan in mind than just to get back to here. How scary, how exhilerating, how fascinating life would be if I was lost but then being lost, I may never find the way back which doesn't matter so much as long as I have a good journey. But I'm still here, I can't even find my way to lost and wish once that this same place would change but then I think that life anywhere is the same, we're all people, we have problems and triumphs and joys and heartbreaks, so then there would not be different from here. This place may change but I often think I have and my perceptions lead me to conclude that here will always change but metaphorically it never does change, the faces, the names, the people are different but the hurt and the love and hate and the joy and the insecurities and the strengths are the same, the same as anyone else I've ever met. Maybe, I think, with more hope than wish, that there will have other humans like me but that will not happen because this is life and although we are one person, we are all different, which makes our humanity a paradox. So I guess I'll stay here, at least for a while, and let the future find me.

Drink More Tang!

School. Work. School. Work.
The endless life of a student. Hopefully it ends in May. If it doesn't, I swear, I quit. It doesn't help that I'm exepected to work overtime...I have this much time [ ] for anything anymore. Ah, such is life. I remember when I wanted to be a grown-up. Or at least an adult. How funny that adulthood looked so enticing when I was twelve.

It also doesn't help that one of my friends never talks to me anymore. He's always leaving when I arrive. That really bothers me somehow. Worse yet, I act as if it doesn't matter...such is the plague of being Scorpio. But since he's Scorpio too, he knows. At least, I hope my pointedly hostile glares and intentional ignorance of his presence get through to him.

I was at Classic Country Music Night this Monday. Heaven forbid, Craig might not be doing it anymore. I nearly cried, the news was so sad. (Now, I know that you're reading this with the thought: "Wow, she really is a drunk!" but humor me. I always have a good time when I go. If there is no more Classic Country, I won't go to the bar on Monday. Drinking alone and staring at the television in the bar just isn't as fun as a bunch of people singing drunkenly. And where else would I get to see yuppie ski sweaters? Oops, did I say that...?)

By the way, is it a genetic disposition of men to think that they're dying when they have the flu? I don't know about you, but I know what the flu is, and I know when I have it. I also know that I should drink lots of fluids and stay away from diuretics like coffee and soda. I've known this information from age twelve. Is it so hard to remember? Well, several of my friends went to the hospital for it, and I think that men purposly wait until they are in such bad shape (from anything) that they require hospitalization. Why do I think this? Out of all of the males that I know, quite a few liked the fact that nurses (usually women) took care of them. Ah, yes, we women have come this far to realize that men are still pigs. (I'm sorry. The Feminist Radar perks up when I hear about the hospital stays. And I'm sure not all men are like this, just the ones I know.)

Oh, and to stay healthy, drink lots of Tang. It's good for you.