Friday, February 25, 2011

Le Sigh

When I woke up this morning my room was colder than expected. On top of this I have been having odd dreams almost every night. Waking up physically and emotionally uncomfortable.

I went upstairs to get a cup of coffee to find that Aneta and Madame Dupont had already woken up. Antea let me know that it was snowing and blah blah blah. She said she shoveled some of the driveway and the back deck. I didn't really care because I knew I would be doing the majority of the driveway alone.

Today was also payday so I had plans to get my money and go shopping. When I went to go start on the driveway I noticed that she hardly shoveled. There was a 5'x8' space that was shoveled and had already accumulated a lot of snow. It wasn't even close to my car, really.

It took me a little over an hour to finish the whole thing. I hauled ass, and it really did take a toll on my body. I didn't complain to her one word. I shoveled it for me, and she didn't need to know that. I knew I was free to leave after completing what she knows is never a very fun task.

I said to her, "It's cool if I go get my check and go shopping right?"

She replied, "King Arthur called and said the roads were really bad, especially by the malls."

I thought, of course it's the worst by every local shopping center. I had replied, "I shoveled the whole driveway for you, because I knew you couldn't do it. I've had all week off from school and this is my only day off to have any fun."

Of course she caved. I'm broke, and I need my money.

My car was all over the road on the way there, and it was kind of fucking awesome.

Anyways, I got to the mall, and to no surprise FedEx had not arrived with the checks. I waited at the mall for 5 hours and although FedEx had delivered packages and such to other stores, none to ours.

My day is ruined, and Aneta didn't feel bad at all. I'm sure she thought to herself that I was getting some kind of karma for traveling in the storm.

I feel like Jennifer from Jennifer's Body when she hasn't eaten in a while. On top of that I feel unpopular, lonely, and poor.

I'm realizing my inner loser.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011


My house was on the corner between Delightful Lane, technically the road I lived on, and Prodd Boulevard. Prodd Boulevard was on a steep hill. A few friends of mine lived at the bottom, while I lived on the top. A few of my other friends lived nearby on Delightful Lane.

There was a house that my friends and I would always hang out at. It was my friend Jenkins' house. He was a good friend, or so I thought.

Now, I can't tell you how I met Jenkins but that's only because I can't even recall our first encounter myself.

His house was a two-story apartment. It had a porch with a large stoop, as well as a balcony. It had one door to the left, and in the foyer, you could choose to go upstairs to Jenkins' apartment or you could go in the door to the right into some cat lady's apartment. Once you reached the top of the stairs you could go into his apartment.

Jenkins was the center of our group of friends, although none of us saw him often. He always hung out in the other room, in the back of the apartment. A few of us would talk and hang out like kids do. I don't remember what the conversation consisted of but I do remember that it was never of my primary memory at the apartment.

We would paint at Jenkins'. The walls were white throughout the whole entire apartment. It had mediocre generic furniture, and had a distinct, clean smell.

Of the few times I visited over that long summer, I remember painting. We repainted the whole entire living room white. The walls were bare and untouched so I don't know why we would have needed to paint, but we did. I don't recall the smell of paint, or the feeling of it, I just remember the cleanliness.

I can see myself, so young and stupid. I was on the opposite wall of the apartment toward what would be considered the front of the apartment. I was painting, alone. In my content, I was called on upon, by request, into the bathroom.

The tragedy took place here. My most embarrassing, traumatic memory took place in that bathroom. It had a plain floor and plain walls, just like any other part of the house. I had no idea that such a disgusting and degrading event was occurring, yet I proceeded with Jenkins encouraging and comforting words.

Oh, please believe I said
Baby, there's a shark in the water.

Or at least there was.