IT'S GOOD TO BE HOME, AIN'T IT MASTER ROBIN?
This is the first time I've been home in nearly three months. Near as I can tell, nothing has changed.
The house is still in disarray. My father has vowed to clean it more times than I can remember, but it never gets done. My mother is still buying useless shit that we don't need, and I'm not convinced anyone on the planet has a use for some of the stuff that she's accumilated. Just today, in the mail, she recieved a candle that smells like cookies and cream. I didn't know that was a scent, but oh well. My sister, who is mentally handicapped, is the only sane one of the bunch. Sure, all she does is sit around all day and watch movies, but at least she's not causing any trouble. The only ruckus that comes out of her room is when she's got one of the poor, defenseless cats by the tail. In that respect she's a lot like Elmira from Tiny Toons. Great show.
My parents are out of town so it's my responsibility to take care of the little urchin (that's my little nickname for her). Because of this, I haven't had many opportunities to leave the house. The few times that I have stepped out into the world, I have done so incognito.
The reason is simple, I don't want to see anyone that I know from high school. I don't want to have that conversation where both parties have to fake interest in one another's new lives at college. Where you goin to school? Whatcha majoring in? You know, that bullshit. I just want to make it through break without having to pretend to be excited to see somebody.
Is that too much to ask? With my luck, it probably is.
I WANT TO WAKE UP. IT'S A NIGHTMARE. TECH SUPPORT!!!
Within the last month I've had the same dream at least six times. It's not exactly the same dream each time mind you, but they all have roughly the same plot. At some point within the dream, my teeth fall out. Not all of them. Just one or two of the front ones on top. If I knew anything about teeth or dentistry, I'd find a better way to describe that, but I can't.
Sometimes they rot out. Sometimes they get knocked out. At any rate, I lose some of my teeth. I always spit them out into my hand, take a quick peek, and then try to force them back into my gums like they're legos or something. Sometimes this actually works, which should give you an idea of how realistic the dreams are, and sometimes it doesn't work.
I'm not worried. I don't believe that dreams are glimpses into the future or anything, but at the same time I recognize that something strange is going on. Maybe someone's put a mojo on me. Or maybe I'm just afraid of getting older. I turn 20 in two months, and I haven't done anything with my life.
When I was a kid, I imagined that by the age of twenty I would have accomplished some pretty amazing feats. I never thought that I'd be sitting in college, majoring in English, spending my free time writing new episodes of a television show that had been defunct for over two years. As far as I can figure, the only thing I can do exceptionally well is quote movies, but until they make an Olympic event out of it, I don't see this skill having a huge calling. Sure I've written a screenplay, which is something I guess, but theres no guarantee that it's any good or that it will ever amount to anything. And it's not like I want to explore ancient civilizations a la Indiana Jones, or walk the Earth like Caine in Kung Fu.
I just want to do something.
NOT IF YOU COUNT THE GURGLING SOUND
I've often wondered what my last words on this planet will be. Will they be memorable enough to engrave on my tombstone? Probably not. I'd like to think that I would use my dying words to profess my love for somebody. Or that I'd say something like "Rosebud" and have some poor bastard track down all of my old friends to find out what it could mean. Either one of those would be acceptable.
I only hope that my last words aren't "Hey guys, watch this."
NO SHOES. NO PANTS. NO SERVICE
How come whenever I go out in shorts and sandals in subfreezing weather, people give me strange looks? It really annoys me. But, I have come up with a couple of ways to remedy this.
Option 1: Wear a T-shit that says "Don't worry about me people, I'm not cold." Or something to that effect.
Option 2: Pay a kid to follow me around with a bullhorn telling people how I'm impervious to cold weather.
It really doesn't matter which option I go with. People are still going to give me crazy looks. Maybe I should stop having public conversations with my imaginary friend Maurice, the space cowboy.
Maybe...
This is the first time I've been home in nearly three months. Near as I can tell, nothing has changed.
The house is still in disarray. My father has vowed to clean it more times than I can remember, but it never gets done. My mother is still buying useless shit that we don't need, and I'm not convinced anyone on the planet has a use for some of the stuff that she's accumilated. Just today, in the mail, she recieved a candle that smells like cookies and cream. I didn't know that was a scent, but oh well. My sister, who is mentally handicapped, is the only sane one of the bunch. Sure, all she does is sit around all day and watch movies, but at least she's not causing any trouble. The only ruckus that comes out of her room is when she's got one of the poor, defenseless cats by the tail. In that respect she's a lot like Elmira from Tiny Toons. Great show.
My parents are out of town so it's my responsibility to take care of the little urchin (that's my little nickname for her). Because of this, I haven't had many opportunities to leave the house. The few times that I have stepped out into the world, I have done so incognito.
The reason is simple, I don't want to see anyone that I know from high school. I don't want to have that conversation where both parties have to fake interest in one another's new lives at college. Where you goin to school? Whatcha majoring in? You know, that bullshit. I just want to make it through break without having to pretend to be excited to see somebody.
Is that too much to ask? With my luck, it probably is.
I WANT TO WAKE UP. IT'S A NIGHTMARE. TECH SUPPORT!!!
Within the last month I've had the same dream at least six times. It's not exactly the same dream each time mind you, but they all have roughly the same plot. At some point within the dream, my teeth fall out. Not all of them. Just one or two of the front ones on top. If I knew anything about teeth or dentistry, I'd find a better way to describe that, but I can't.
Sometimes they rot out. Sometimes they get knocked out. At any rate, I lose some of my teeth. I always spit them out into my hand, take a quick peek, and then try to force them back into my gums like they're legos or something. Sometimes this actually works, which should give you an idea of how realistic the dreams are, and sometimes it doesn't work.
I'm not worried. I don't believe that dreams are glimpses into the future or anything, but at the same time I recognize that something strange is going on. Maybe someone's put a mojo on me. Or maybe I'm just afraid of getting older. I turn 20 in two months, and I haven't done anything with my life.
When I was a kid, I imagined that by the age of twenty I would have accomplished some pretty amazing feats. I never thought that I'd be sitting in college, majoring in English, spending my free time writing new episodes of a television show that had been defunct for over two years. As far as I can figure, the only thing I can do exceptionally well is quote movies, but until they make an Olympic event out of it, I don't see this skill having a huge calling. Sure I've written a screenplay, which is something I guess, but theres no guarantee that it's any good or that it will ever amount to anything. And it's not like I want to explore ancient civilizations a la Indiana Jones, or walk the Earth like Caine in Kung Fu.
I just want to do something.
NOT IF YOU COUNT THE GURGLING SOUND
I've often wondered what my last words on this planet will be. Will they be memorable enough to engrave on my tombstone? Probably not. I'd like to think that I would use my dying words to profess my love for somebody. Or that I'd say something like "Rosebud" and have some poor bastard track down all of my old friends to find out what it could mean. Either one of those would be acceptable.
I only hope that my last words aren't "Hey guys, watch this."
NO SHOES. NO PANTS. NO SERVICE
How come whenever I go out in shorts and sandals in subfreezing weather, people give me strange looks? It really annoys me. But, I have come up with a couple of ways to remedy this.
Option 1: Wear a T-shit that says "Don't worry about me people, I'm not cold." Or something to that effect.
Option 2: Pay a kid to follow me around with a bullhorn telling people how I'm impervious to cold weather.
It really doesn't matter which option I go with. People are still going to give me crazy looks. Maybe I should stop having public conversations with my imaginary friend Maurice, the space cowboy.
Maybe...
<< Home