Too far

my friend died

2012-01-09T22:32:00.001-05:00

"The artist's job is not to succumb to despair but to find an antidote for the emptiness of existence."
- Midnight in Paris

I got in another car accident and also, you don't have a personality

2011-12-29T22:14:00.001-05:00

Today I got in my third car accident. I'm 22. Don't judge me yet.

The first one happened when I was 17 and it was my fault. I was driving home from my piano lesson (did I mention how cool I am?) on a snowy night and I turned left, right into an SUV. BAM. Smashed right into her door. The lady and I started at each other, me through my windshield and she through her passenger window. Mouths open, Oh my God!

Luckily we were both okay and my brother forever gets to throw "remember when you T-Boned a Lexus?" into our conversations. The lady's car was towed but my brick of a PT cruiser drove home.

The next crash happened my junior year in college. I decided to wake up early one morning and drive home to surprise my parents. On the highway there was traffic and I stopped; the guy behind me did not stop. SMACK.

I pulled off to the side of the road with that dazed, airy feeling when your brain can't catch up to current events. I called 911 but they declined my offer to come and check things out (this happens to me a lot, actually).

The guy was spacy, and I later realized that he was high. We exchanged insurance information and I drove off, my bumper drooping but still attached and my driver door a bit crunched shut. Turns out his insurance wasn't good, probably from driving around high and hitting people. I got to surprise my parents even more than I ever planned when I got home. My bumper remains droopy but my dad fixed the CRACK sound that my door made whenever I opened it.

Today I was on my way to work. The roads were a bit snowy so I drove carefully; I have nightmares about car crashes, losing control and that horrible moment of impact. I don't want any more accidents, I am not a risk-taker with my PT (Petey). PT is old and purple but he's the only transportation I have. I am slow, steady and the recipient of many middle fingers.

I merged onto the expressway into a line of tightly packed cars, or as I call it, a caravan. I hate caravans, everyone riding bumper-to-bumper, waiting to be part of a ten-car pile up.

I put my blinker on, checked my mirrors, checked my blind spot and slowly merged over to the left lane. No rush, no hurry. In an instant I saw two things:

One - there is a car pulled over on the left side of the highway with a woman pacing around and
two - there is something in my lane

That something turned out to be a large piece of scrap metal. It must've been at least three feet wide and two feet tall; a large cylinder sliced in half. There was a split second when I realized that I would hit it. Saying I "thought" is wrong because I didn't think, I reacted. Can't swerve left, can't swerve right, can't stop, so HIT IT HEAD ON.

It went under PT's grill and made a horrible noise all the way through. I'd slowed down for the impact and then slowed down to listen.

The metal hunk flew off the road and out of danger. I didn't hear any noises and wondered, Hey, maybe there's no damage!

I was wrong and had to make the call.

"Dad? Something happened to my car."

I pulled over and made the calls to my dad and my boss. A man stopped to try to help me but I was so terrified that I assumed he was trying to lure me into his SUV. I told him No no, sir, you go, I want to be taken out by a semi the old fashioned way.

Car accidents are one of the many crappy things that teach you about yourself. From this metal incident I learned that I'm lucky to have parents that will come and get me and my leaking, beaten down car.

I've thought a lot about personality, "finding yourself" and how someone could take this as "she's the kind of person who will HIT HEAD ON."

That's the phrase people like, as in:

- I'm not the kind of person to gossip, but I bet she has herpes or
- I'm not the kind of person to beat my wife, but it's the only way to shut her mouth and
- I'm not the kind of person to judge others because I have God, but you're going to hell

It's partially narcissistic - pick an identity, insist that it's you regardless of what your actions say. My new theory is that the whole "finding yourself" thing is bull. I've always thought that, actually, but I never understood what a personality was otherwise. Is it something you're born with and have to uncover/find? Is it something you create from experience? Does it come from your circumstances/resources or what you want to be?

I've settled on the typical scientist answer, which is a little of everything. Nature vs nurture. There are some base things about you that are solid -- for example, I'm clever but blunt and opinionated (the stuff of every man's dream, in case you were wondering). My cousin Martha is sweet, so kind and gentle hearted. That's her base, that's her 'chess board.'

The pieces on the board are another story. Are you nice, are you mean? What a stupid question. You're both, depending on the day and the situation. I can show exceptional compassion (and be very proud of myself) or cut someone down with my wit (and later be ashamed). I use myself as an example because I'm lazy (another trait to battle), but those are the chess pieces. Move them as best you can, it's your choice how it turns out. This analogy won't go much further because I don't know anything about chess.

Everyone wants a set identity to turn to. "No, I'm not selfish, that online quiz said I'm just like Oprah. That's what it said, I linked to it on Facebook and my friends all agreed." Whoever said your actions define you was right. Whatever Cosmo said about your personality is wrong, because Cosmo is always wrong.

Turns out the lady I saw pulled over tried to avoid the metal and ended up crunching the front of her car on the guard rail, but luckily she seemed okay. I'm fine, again, and while the verdict's still out on repairs for PT, it seems like all that happened was the transmission fluid pan broke open and all the fluid leaked out.


HIT IT HEAD ON. TAKE THE METAL ON, I AM A BRICK

I'm not "the kind of person" who hits things head on with her car. I am a person who went right over a large piece of metal once, though. Also, I'm a person who might recommend that if you're in trouble without any tanks or hummers immediately available, find a PT Cruiser.

Bridget goes on a second date

2011-12-19T15:35:00.000-05:00

"How'd your date with James go?"
"Alright," Bridget said.

"Ooh," Shelly leaned in, "when're you gonna see him again?"

Bridget shrugged. "I didn't really like him, I don't think I will."

"What!"
"I didn't like him."
"What! Why!"
"We didn't have much to say and we didn't -- "
"Oh God, you're always so picky and harsh on people. He said you were cute, everyone deserves a second chance."

"I don't know if --"
"You're so mean."
"Okay. I guess I can see him again."

James asked her for a second date to Antony's Pizzeria and Deli. He said he liked it a lot because it wasn't too fancy and a bus ran there from his apartment and would she mind meeting him there because he doesn't have a car?

They split a pizza, plain cheese because he doesn't like toppings but extra cheese would make him gassy. He tells Bridgette that he suspects he's a bit lactose intolerant but he keeps forgetting to ask his doctor. She tries to relate by telling him that she thinks she's a little allergic to hazelnuts because she throws up after eating them. They both feel embarrassed.

James tells her about his mother stabbing his father before they were divorced. It takes him 26 minutes to get out because he keeps laughing and losing his breath. Bridget imagines what her mother would think if she heard this story. She decides her mother should not hear this story.

He offers to walk her home and Bridget feels excited for the first time in the evening because she gets to leave. When they get to her door, he slowly leans his face towards her face. She realizes he is going to kiss her and sees that he has a booger hanging from his nostril. She closes her eyes.

He whispers, "Would you mind if I come up for the night? The buses stopped running hours ago and I don't have any cash for a cab."

Bridget opens her eyes.

"Uh."

She stares at him with her mouth open and he winks at her; she turns around and walks into her building.

"Night!" she calls out, locking the door.

When she gets to her apartment, she peers out from the dark window to see if he went away. She never answers his text message beginning "what the hell sexxyyy girl!!" or any message after.

The next day at work, Shelly tells Bridget that compliments like that should be appreciated.

romantic girl

2011-12-18T23:13:00.000-05:00

why do we get in relationships?
is it like the mcdonald's commercials
everyone hates, when the burger
is grand and plump and fluffy
but when you buy it
it's flattened, grey and sprinkled with human hair

romance isn't real
not how it's pumped into you
in songs and books and knowing looks
from old people.
after the dust settles you think
maybe i could've put that effort
into feeding hungry kids
or a woman's shelter or making the world's
tallest macaroni tower
anything more worthwhile
anything better than chasing fantasies

Short fiction part two

2011-12-14T19:17:00.000-05:00

So the good doctor held a second short fiction competition. I entered Buck and got an honorable mention! Very cool.

Dr. Rob thought my story was just swell (buy his book Crazy, cos you know you are). And Ben Corman expressed how much he thinks my writing sucks, like he did last year. Which makes him a bad person.

LESBIAN SHUNNED BY PEERS AND ADMINISTRATORS

2011-12-06T14:34:00.001-05:00

At local HOLY VIRGINS College

You may think that college is all fun and games these days, but we've found one student who really stands for something.

Her name is Millie Jenkins, and while her sorority sisters are partying it up it tonight, she's having a quiet evening at home. Millie planned to attend the annual formal with her sorority but was barred from attending.

"They didn't say I'm not allowed to go," Millie told our cameras, "I just didn't want to go without a date again."

Millie is a junior at Holy Virgins College, an all-girls Christian school located just north of the city. She joined the sorority in her freshman year, hoping to make friends.

"I really like being in the sorority, I've made a lot of friends and everyone is really nice," she said.

Little did she know what an ugly turn those friendships would take. Earlier this month, Millie bought her tickets for the formal dance and had to specify who her guest would be. She wrote in the name "Lauren Page."

This bold move sent shock waves through the staunch Christian community that is Holy Virgins. Millie is a female and Lauren is also presumably a female, meaning that this would be a lesbian date. Sources say that when news got to the college advisers, who could not be found to provide a comment at this time, they told Millie that lesbian relationships would not be tolerated.

Millie was disappointed by the news, but is keeping a brave face. "Ashley's been my best friend since we were kids. All of my friends had dates and I never have a date, I thought it would be fun to bring my friend."

Millie isn't the first to be discriminated in her quest for equality and love, but it is easy to understand how alone she feels at this time. When asked if she believes all people have a right to experience love, Millie was enthusiastic.

"Of course," she told reporters, "we are all equally deserving of God's love."

It is lucky for Millie that she has her faith in these difficult times.

shame on

2011-12-02T20:33:00.001-05:00

you spent months chasing me,
showing up at my door
night after night, the dinners and
movies and checking
that i made it home alright
the surprises you climbed up
my balcony to leave
oh, the romance got to me

i confessed love
you said -
no thanks, not now
i'm sorry, but you know how
i feel about you, right?

i understand, i do
though it took months to get over
you, and tonight

you wanted to start again. i said - no
no thanks, not now
i'm sorry
but you know

Buck

2011-11-30T14:52:00.001-05:00

He wasn’t the biggest dog at the shelter, and he definitely wasn’t the prettiest. His head was big and square; his fur was missing in patches, the skin pink and scabbed. He was rough – I joked that he looked how I felt – but there he was anyway, clowning around, jumping on the other dogs, sticking his paws out of the cage to grab my jeans.

I always wanted a dog; but I was a poor kid and when I got to be an adult, I had an animal hating wife. I let go of the idea without knowing it, like how one day day you wake up and all of a sudden you can’t be an astronaut or professional ball player anymore. It all came rushing back as I watched him roll around, getting snapped at by his cage mate. A thrill spread over me; there was no reason I couldn’t have him. I had my own place, my wife had left me and the only person still talking to me was my Aunt Kelly.

Buck came home that day, strutting into the place like he knew what the hell. At first I had no idea what to do with him. I took him out in the woods one night for a long walk and he was so elated that I made it a regular thing. I cut back on the drinking so I could take him in the morning before work, too.

It all came together around him, and he never said a word. I spent a year chasing Ashley, begging her to come back, asking her what I did wrong. I worked overtime to pay for her counseling and her new transmission and her boob job. Everyone had a theory, they all told me what to do and what to say. They were right – about everything – but I told them to shove it.

Lucky for me, Buck made sure that estranged friends got a king’s welcome. Everyone loved him – except Ashley, who took his nose to the crotch as an insult and told me to get rid of him if I ever wanted her “to even consider” coming home. I told her not to worry about it.

We had a routine, me and Buck. Living together, rebuilding day by day. About a year ago, we were on a walk when a kid tried to rough me up.

Give me your money, he says.
Fuck off, I told him.

He shoved me and we scuffled, he was just a kid really, and I threw him to the ground. He got scared, I think – he pulled a gun. He shot me straight through the leg. I fell fast and he got up, ran over to me, screaming. Buck got between us, fur bristled, growling and spitting and lunging like I’d never seen. Four gunshots rang out and Buck fell silent.

The kid ran off and we were alone again, the night still and cold. Buck limped over and laid his head on my hand, his fur soaked in warm blood. I wanted to call for help, I wanted to scream but I couldn’t do anything. I pulled him in and buried my eyes in his soft coat, telling him over and over that it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay…I kept rocking him after he stopped breathing.

My best friend died protecting me. He never asked for much, and he probably thought he'd strut over, check on me and take a nap. Or maybe he knew that he was going to die, I don't know.

In the mornings, I saw his furry snout on my pillow, all lit up and excited. He curled up next to the bed every night, keeping an eye on me in case I decided to go off somewhere and I might leave him behind. He didn’t want to miss anything; he followed me around the house, watching me. To Buck, I was the world and everything good in it. I don't think he had any regrets, living the way he did, a big heart and short memory. Dogs don’t worry much; they’re goodness and honor all the way through.

It snowed today. Buck loved snow – rolling on it, digging in it, eating it. He used to bring me balls of ice and look up at me expectantly, like he was asking if I’d throw it for him. He could never find the snowballs I threw but he was thrilled anyway. If he were here, I’d let him on the couch tonight, even if his fur was all wet and musty, and we’d watch TV before going to sleep. He would’ve loved that, the first snow of the year and together on the couch, what a day.

do

2011-09-29T19:56:00.001-04:00

Bukowski said
don't try
on his tombstone -- "Don't Try"
don't try to be funny
don't try to look smart
don't try to be nice or tough or cool
don't try to write or rhyme
don't try to be cute
don't try to get people to like you
don't try to get people to hate you
stop trying for their attention at all
don't try to avoid it, either
just don't --
don't try

My sister's poem 'College'

2011-09-18T17:56:00.000-04:00

My little sister Katrina wrote this poem for her 8th grade English class (4th period). (She's 13) (Aw) (And it choked me up)

         College
Goodbye to our inside jokes that
would make us roll on the floor and laugh so hard it made my face turn as red
as a cherry tomato.
Goodbye to me doing your hair for
hours the night before a big party because he is going to be there.
Goodbye to slamming our doors and
arguing over stupid things that we won't remember a week later.
Goodbye to our talks about boys, and
how I won't understand some things until I'm your age.
Goodbye to my door vibrating form
your blasting music that is just pots and pans banging together.
Goodbye to going down town at night
and sitting on a sidewalk's bench and looking at all the city lights, just you
and me.

Hello to the heartbreaking phone
calls home to tell me you can't come home you have to study for an exam.
Hello to watching our movie by
myself, fast forwarding through all your favorite parts because they are just sad
reminders that you are not here.
Hello to the family Sunday
breakfasts that doesn't seem like much of a family any more with you a thousand
miles away.
Hello to the abandoned seat next to
me at the dinner table that teases me like a play ground bully, chanting my
name again and again.
Hello to the questions I have but
your not here to answer.
Hello to your empty room that echoes
all the goodbyes we had every summer of its plain walls.

changed for the good, changed for the bad

2011-08-21T18:33:00.010-04:00

see others think
they need to 'keep me in line'
but you and i got along just fine
between my big mouth and your two
black eyes
(gosh i shoulda seen

the other guy)
i miss you most, i liked you best
i miss you with a beating
in my chest

it's all i have of you
and tho harder to open,
i am harder to fool
but that's all i'll get,
what i have to move -
the part of me
that molded to you

'tu as pris mon coeur et tu le garderas pour tous les temps'

2011-07-25T00:30:00.028-04:00

some losses are odd
not the sharp, spouting
bleed of a love affair
cut off

not the dull ache
of not good enough
not the shock when robbers
lift all your stuff;

the hollow losses
when what's gone is gone
it spouts a leak
but there's nothing to replace,
nothing to be done

Book Smarts

2011-07-24T12:16:00.041-04:00

I adopted my dog Andrzej (Andre) from the shelter last October. I walked dogs there for two years before I looked into his puppy eyes, and in that instant I knew -- he was the one.

Puppy love, and at first sight. Not everyone can appreciate such a touchy-feely declaration, and not everyone can imagine getting a "used" dog. It's wrong to assume that a dog landed in the shelter because they had a problem; the real reason animals end up there is because their owner had a problem. Maybe they didn't have time or money, were moving, went to jail (oops), got sick and/or died or simply didn't want to deal with having a pet.

Andrzej, posing

Andrzej was a stray, so his history was unknown, but I quickly realized he'd been abused. He was nervous, scared of new people and terrified of men. If someone was too loud or made him feel threatened, he'd hide under the table and shake.

It's been almost a year, and Dre is doing great. He's comfortable with most people, has lots of doggy friends and is generally always thrilled.

Thrilled.

He brightens my day every time I see his furry face and is my very bestest friend. He is a bit different than any other dog I've had, though, and my family has a running joke about him. It's based off a scene in the movie Tommy Boy, one of the many movies we will never stop quoting to one another.

Tommy: My dad was smart, I'm not.
Richard: Very true. But there's two types of smarts, book smarts, which waved bye-bye to you long ago, and there's street-smarts, the ability to read people. And you know how to do that, just like your dad.
- Tommy Boy

That's the joke. That book smarts "waved bye-bye" to Dre a long time ago, and instead he is a clever, often impolite, "street dog."

My last dog was a wiggly Cocker Spaniel named Snikers. As a kid, I spent a lot of time teaching her cute tricks and then forcing my family members to sit through showings of the "Snikers Circus." It was a long affair, with Snikers jumping through hoops, bringing certain toys when asked and waving at the enthralled crowd.

Snikers passed from cancer a few years later, and I never had the heart to do another dog circus. Also, I was getting kind of old and my family wouldn't humor my demands. I still trained the new family dog Argos to do some adorable things, like stand on his back paws and to play dead when someone "shot" at him.

Argos learned how to look like a teddy bear on his own, though

When my brother got his German Shepherd Niko, I taught him to spin in circles when I spun in circles.

Don't be fooled by his giant size, he can twirl like a ballerina. A ballerina who can eat you.

Adorable and silly tricks, but I always found it a fun activity to do with my dog. So naturally, when I got Dre, I thought I would teach him all kinds of silly things, like hiding his face behind his paw and rolling over and calculus.

As it turned out, tricks were not Andrzej's favorite. He learned the basic sit, lay down and give paw, but anything else annoyed him. He would get so frustrated when he couldn't get it right that he'd lay down and stare at me sadly or run away and hide under the table and stare at me sadly.

I bought a clicker, a training tool uses a "click" to communicate to the dog that they did something good. As soon as he heard the first click, he ran under my desk and refused to eat his treat. Also, he looked at me sadly.

This didn't help Dre's reputation. Up to this point, he'd been known for the "street" things he did, forbidden acts that our other dogs wouldn't dream of committing. Sometimes they were bad, like when he dug up my mom's plants and ripped them apart branch by branch. Or when my dad put up an anti-dog fence around his newly planted grass, and we'd see Dre strutting in and out as he pleased. We didn't know how he figured things out like that.

Those were bad dog things I didn't want him to do. There are other things, funny things, that he does that makes my mom call him "a survivor." For example, he prefers to sleep at the side of my bed at night, next to me. His crate is at the foot of my bed, though, and it has his fluffy dog bed and his beloved towel. So every night, he drags his bed and his towel next to me:

He cracks me up.

There's no real point to this story. Basically I like gushing over my animals, and I think everything they do is great. I guess a lesson you can draw, if you feel like it, is that things don't always turn out like you expected. Sometimes you don't turn out like you thought you would, like you wanted to be. That's alright, if you learn to work with it.

One more.

Are you sure I can't sit with you?

taxi

2011-06-12T01:57:00.006-04:00

my mind is full of memories
my mouth is full of blood
i wouldn't mind erasing all
that went on the past month

deployment eve

2011-06-03T22:15:00.015-04:00

'am i going to be okay?'
you asked me that today

you were supposed to know
these things, all better spoken,
so tough and tall and old
but i found you always broken,
your brown eyes looking up at me

'am i going to be okay?'
i don't know what to say
and nothing comes as i trip over my tongue and
watch you walk away

poetry

2011-06-01T20:05:00.001-04:00

“Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason." Novalis

foolish

2011-04-23T12:30:00.037-04:00

you shouldn't have kissed me
on the forehead like that
if you didn't want me to react

shouldn't have given me those
puppy eyes
if i couldn't repay you in kind

to both run and hide --
is that what we've learned
after all this time?

Organic Chemistry and You: A Pocket Guide

2011-02-22T20:52:00.009-05:00

In April of '09 I wrote a post about how I was failing in Organic Chemistry (and in life) that has gotten a few responses. The post grows old but every year, young and bright-eyed students have their hopes slashed in Organic and somehow find what I wrote. I never wrote a follow-up, but I had my reasons and I guess it's better late than never.

There I was, 19-almost-20-still-stupid years old, and I screwed up big time. In my last semester before entering my guaranteed pharmacy school seat, I failed an Organic Chemistry exam so royally that there was a good chance that I would lose my conditional admission and never get to advise a single patient on how to manage their diarrhea. It's all over for me, I thought, I ruined my future and now what?

The reasons I messed up weren't important -- not really. What was important was admitting and taking responsibility for the parts that were my fault while letting go those factors that were out of my control.

This is a toughie. Because really, who wants to admit to themselves that they didn't really study all that they could, they didn't seek help every time the homework problems confused them, that sometimes they doodled in class? I didn't know it was going to turn around and bite me like this!

It's easier to dwell on the things that came out of left field -- the breakup, the bronchitis, one emotional crisis or another. It was unfair, you wail, it messed me up!

I'm sure it did, I've been there. It's not supposed to be easy. It's hard to admit your own faults, it's even harder to make up for them.

There was a decision to make. I could either sulk off, say goodbye to pharmacy and stop worrying about the horrors of alkenes and SN2 reactions, or I could completely throw myself into fighting my way back up.

There was no guarantee, of course, that doing my best and giving my all would result in what I wanted. Actually, terrifyingly, it might show me that I just wasn't good enough, no matter how hard I tried. That scared me. I didn't want to find out I was just a loser and that my best wasn't good enough.

But I decided to fight anyway, and I didn't half ass it. I studied every single day for that class. I did the homework problems, and then I did extra problems. I went over the notes, I went to peer led sessions, I stayed after lectures. On the weekends I would do Organic Chemistry. I did organic every day, I wanted to be able to pop out a synthesis no matter where I was. My dreams even started to have organic in them.

I went in to talk to my professor every week, telling her what trouble I was having. I told my lab TA, a large intimidating man, that I needed to get a certain grade in his lab and was willing to rewrite my reports as many times as necessary. At the time, I was embarrassed to have to ask for help. I felt like they looked at me like I was stupid, and that while everyone else in the class was strong and smart, I was weak. In the end, I found out that people generally want to help you when you're so desperate, when they can see you're really working for it. I was lucky enough that my parents (my poor parents with their hysterical daughter) supported me in every way -- encouraging me, coming down to see me, taking me out to eat, hours of me calling and complaining and crying on the phone (this still happens sometimes...poor parents).

Though I know the studying sounds awful, Organic every day, it wasn't that bad. You get used to it -- hell, you get good at it, and maybe enjoy it a little. An hour or two every day spent thinking and working with different problems went relatively quickly.

Also, like a little flower growing out of a pile of crap, there is a bit of pride where before there was only self-loathing. I don't completely suck, I guess I can do something useful.

It comes little by little, and believe it or not, just like in every cheesy movie you've ever seen, it eventually doesn't matter what the outcome is. That's why I never wrote a follow up -- by the time I was at that point, I knew that for the first time in my life, I had done everything that I possibly could.

I think this was the time I really started using the phrase "God has a plan for you." I'm not extremely religious, but I've latched onto this. You know how people say, "I left it in God's hands?" I believed in that, and I trusted that God had a plan for me.

A lot of people, though, skip the trying-with-everything-you-have part and then wonder why God didn't take care of it for them. It's try first, then hand over.

Anyway, I worked my butt off, and do you know, I made it into pharmacy school. Even more, when I got there, I talked to my classmates and found out that more than a few of them were in the same situation as me. In fact, one of my good friends even had a sort of "hearing" scheduled to see if he could still get into school.

I guess the moral of this story isn't, as it appears, to talk about how awesome I was and how super I did in succeeding -- I've messed up plenty of times since and am far from awesome. The wholesome message is one, you're not alone (seriously, organic kicks around so many people, as do many things in life) and two, decide what you want and get it. Be honest with yourself, figure out why you screwed up, and put all you have into fixing it. You're going to screw up a lot, and it will suck, a lot. Don't let your life be defined by mistakes.

Tendril

2011-01-30T11:53:00.004-05:00

“Once, when we discussed negativity towards others, he said that we ought to imagine that we each have an individual connection with a God or higher power through ‘a Doc Brown from Back to the Future-style metal helmet’ (bear with me) that has an electric tendril that reaches up through the sky, puncturing the ozone layer, into the heavens, past the Milky Way, right into the mind of God. Like them hairdrying plastic mushroom contraptions beneath which elderly ladies sit in hairdressers, but instead of being attached to a plug socket, they are attached to God. When someone, a critic, a teacher or an enemy attacks you, it’s as if they are petulantly disgruntled and dissatisfied with their own connection to the universe and like snitchy little berks, reach over and yank your tendril. We are all connected to an objective higher mind and through that to each other, so why bother jerking around with other people’s connection? It’s a senseless interference. We all do it, but really what’s the point of snipping at our fellows? You may as well go into your garden and holler abused at a nasturtium. In the end it’s between you and God.”

Russell Brand My Booky Wook 2

Some people I've met

2010-12-26T22:19:00.012-05:00

The "please believe I party a lot and that makes me fun" - This person is strictly a work/school and facebook friend. They spend all of their time studying and creating status updates to allude to drinking alcohol, because that is cool. If you ever see them out at the bar, they will be drunk and very sloppy. Even though they are only an acquaintance at best, they will tell you all about a personal or sexual problem. You'll feel responsible for helping them find their way home and they will spill their drink and/or vomit on you.

"You know dogs aren't allowed, right" guy - He's having a bad day. His boss screamed at him for getting the wrong latte and the woman he met on craigslist has stopped answering his calls (and texts, and facebook messages, and emails...) Then, on his walk home, he sees me: standing on the grass, my dog frolicking in the greenness. He knows his day is about to turn around. He makes a beeline for us, diverting his direction and missing his bus. But he doesn't care. He gets to huff over and tell me, "You know dogs aren't allowed on the grass, right?" He stares at me. I stare at him. I shrug. He stomps off, comforting himself with the mutterings that the world is wrong and he is right.

The please validate me girl - You're facebook friends with her, despite your many attempts to delete her, she always finds you again. It's obvious from everything she does that her daddy didn't love her. Her profile pictures range from slutty to goofy-slutty, to show that she has a fun side. hEr AbOuT mE iS rEaLlY lOnG aNd Is TyPeD lIkE tHiS. It has many bullets and lists awkward facts that could be true about anyone. She hates drama and states that anywhere she can, but you vividly know her to be a bitch and eventually figure out how to block any news feed about her.

The Pre-Med Major - They love to let you know that how you're studying is wrong, and by the way, they got a really high score on the SAT's. Maybe they can't put down the Natty Lite long enough to pull a C- in Bio 1, but God Damnit they're going to be a doctor!

The We Are Getting Married couple - They're only 14-21 years old, but they know that it's meant to be. They met in the 7th grade and haven't talked to other people since. They are getting married, and you're totally invited!

"I am miserable" - This person is generally well-off, having both a job and internet access. They use their internet access to complain about the weather, TV shows, food, puppies, and most of all, their job. Whenever you see them, they make comments that are mildly insulting that you will think you're being too sensitive about until someone else points out how insulting they were. They have no actual interests or personality and get by through daily status updates (again) on facebook.

The Mirror - No matter what you bring into the conversation, The Mirror can turn it on themselves. Any story you have is "nothing," and they have something long-winded to top it.

The pot head - You can run into this guy anywhere from a party to a class to the bathroom. He smokes a lot of pot and thinks everyone else should, too. He will tell you why it should be legalized (it'll totally clear up the debt), even though you don't care at all. Also, he will argue that all drugs should be legalized because people are inherently smart.

The Drunk - This person is in your group of friends. Everyone worries about their drinking (every night), but when the issue is brought up, the Drunk brings counters with "that one time you puked on a cop's shoe" and stops listening. This person goes to bars that normal people would never enter, and the bartender knows them well. No one knows what to do, so everyone avoids talking about it.

The Delusionist - The delusionist can be either male or female. This person, though lacking any exceptional physical or mental characteristics, believes they deserve a god as a mate. Their nit-picking about jiggly thighs, awkward facial hair and cheap hair color make you feel insecure about your entire life. They are usually single but will sleep with anyone who shows them attention.

My Boyfriend Defines me - I'll admit, I have a personal vendetta against these ladies, but what the hell. These girls pretend to be content single, but as soon as they meet their controlling, bizarre boyfriend, they are out for good. They tell you about their sexual escapades in excruciating detail, citing that "if I get pregnant, he said he'll take care of me..." With his BS in math, yes.

I've got a million of these. I know I seem mean, and that's because I am. Really I end up feeling bad for everyone and feeling bad about how I judge their choices. That's why I still spend lots of time guiltily talking to them and remain their friends on facebook. Shoot me.

O yay!

2010-12-13T12:44:00.003-05:00

The Deterrorizer story got into the top 10 in a competition. Check out the winners here. There are some pretty sharp and tight stories there, it really makes me want to work on my fiction!

Sept 2016, Additions to the Deterrorizer

2010-12-06T15:44:00.006-05:00

News Article Summary for “Proposed New Safety Measures at Malls”
by Natasha Fields
9th grade honors Social Studies

This article talked about the new changes that American malls have made and what people in America think about it.

The entry safety measures to malls and public places have not changed. The process involves stepping into a Deterrorizer with a Beacon of Safety officer. The cylindrical body can detect chemical weapons within 2 minutes from the circulating air and scans for metal objects and bombs. It also self-contains explosions, so any bombs detonated would not harm anyone but the Beacon of Safety officer. The officers are very brave and admired for their jobs, and luckily, there has never been an explosion.

After stepping into the cylinder, patrons remove their clothes and lay on the Detection Table. The Beacon of Safety officer inspects the clothing and body for explosives or dangerous weapons. When the process first started, officers were required to use a special detection wand to search inside of people. Later some officers preferred using their hands and penises to perform inner-body searches. It was found that "a penis is just as, if not more, effective in finding foreign objects."

The new measures at malls have to do with entering stores. Walt Anderson, Chief Officer of American Safety and CEO of the Sol-Mart Corporation, stated that we as a nation are not doing enough to protect the stores' rights. He proposed that patrons leave their clothes at the Deterrorizer and shop instead in paper gowns, costing only $2.00.

Research supports the theory that paper gowns drop loss in thefts by almost $200,000,000 a year. “These savings will be passed on to our customers,” Walt states. "A theft deterrent could be much worse."

The bill still needs to be approved by three major corporations before it can pass. However Walt is confident it will pass.

I think it is important to protect people during shopping and also protect companies during shopping. The positive of this bill is that everyone will get lower prices on the things they need. The negative of this bill is that the mall is the most fun place to hang out and the gowns may be uncomfortable. Overall I think this bill is good and bad.

So I've fallen in love again...

2010-10-16T14:25:00.003-04:00

So I met this guy...he's really handsome and suave, but he's not afraid to be silly too. And he likes going on long walks or just hanging out in front of the TV together. He is so smart and always knows just how I feel...PLUS he's only pooped on the carpet once so far. He's so dreamy!!!

i send you all my love

2010-08-16T22:02:00.006-04:00

you can build your walls
and still they'll fall
with the slightest wind

you'll think you're safe
from old heartaches
if you lock them (deep) within

but you're caught off guard
driving the car
and you hear her favorite song
or meet a guy
with the exact eyes
you've been missing for so long

your heart will ache
for people and past
now gone away and far
your heart will ache
ache and ache
no matter who you are

there has to be a better way

2010-07-18T22:41:00.001-04:00

“I could see the road ahead of me. I was poor and I was going to stay poor. But I didn’t particularly want money. I didn’t know what I wanted. Yes, I did. I wanted someplace to hide out, someplace where one didn’t have to do anything. The thought of being something didn’t only appall me, it sickened me. The thought of being a lawyer or a councilman or an engineer, anything like that, seemed impossible to me. To get married, to have children, to get trapped in the family structure. To go someplace to work every day and to return. It was impossible. To do things, simple things, to be part of family picnics, Christmas, the 4th of July, Labor Day, Mother’s Day…was a man born just to endure those things and then die? I would rather be a dishwasher, return alone to a tiny room and drink myself to sleep.” - Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye

such sad eyes

2010-01-21T19:34:00.004-05:00

not easy to not judge

2010-01-21T16:37:00.006-05:00

when assuming from what we see
we're very rarely right:
who says that pretty girls are mean
and handsome men are nice?

oh young love

2010-01-14T16:20:00.003-05:00

'he sent me a ring!'
and she shows me the
delicate little thing,
this 15 year old i know

he wants to get married
he'll have her stay home
then she shows me the collection
of his penis pictures on her phone

am i on a site for polish brides or something?

2010-01-03T20:58:00.003-05:00

Yaaaa....

more...crap

2009-11-29T19:55:00.006-05:00

Got back from Thanksgiving break to realize that someone broke into the apartment robbed us... I'm freaked out cos the robber got through the bars on the windows and climbed in my room.

Sometimes you really just can't catch a break. Do you remember being a kid swimming in the ocean and you'd come up for air at the wrong time? And a wave would hit you and you'd choke on the water and as soon as you thought you were going to regain some control another wave hit you, then another and another?

I'm a little on edge.

thanks

2009-11-27T00:13:00.016-05:00

every day during story time,
we were supposed to draw.
so every day, i'd make a dog
tongue out, one curled paw
and give it to my mom.

my parents weren't as soft
as they are now, so it
took two years
for them to break down,
but when they did, this
lucky 8 year old girl
got the best dog
in the whole entire world.

moderation you say

2009-11-20T20:59:00.014-05:00

'sometimes friends' are like 'sometimes foods':
you know that they're not good for you
so what do you do?

for the sometimes foods you want all the time
try to resist
and the friends,
see,

actually i'd rather never see them again

reign of the ex

2009-11-07T07:38:00.044-05:00

No, no, i don't need a ride
from you
don't worry guys, i'm fine
i just need my coat
from your car from you
No, no ride
i really want to walk the streets at 2
AM and find a bus
that's what i wanna do

and the romantic dates for two
i was a fool
to wear these shoes
but the making applesauce, kisses on the cheek
whatever it is we had was sweet
and i'm glad that you agreed

but when you get off the phone
with her - ya great that she's alright -
all i want from you is my coat.
so i can catch a bus home tonight

B&W

2009-11-04T17:51:00.005-05:00

If you spend your time on the church
you are GOOD.
If you spend your time drinking
you are BAD.
If you're drinking while involved with the church
like a drunk priest or nun
but you're not molesting
or smacking anyone
then

uh

GOOD.

familial paradox

2009-10-25T15:29:00.012-04:00

every year when we were small,
our parents drove us to the mall
a half hour away
just so we could get to ride
the indoor christmas train

my parents taught me everything i know
about giving all you've got
(especially when what you have
isn't really a lot)
but how they've got us giving now
instead of the taking that we did
is something i've yet to figure out
and pass on to my kids

battery blinking red

2009-10-11T20:04:00.012-04:00

you handed over more than an MP3
player when you said, "listen to this song."
i think you sat and looked at me

as i stared at the ground.
and it was soft and it was sweet
but i am lost and it was late
so i jumped in my normal way
and said (get the hell away
from me) goodnight

i screwed you over and all you got was this usless apology

2009-10-02T19:26:00.015-04:00

i still don't know what happened that night
that night between you and i
the words got lost in alcohol
now a mix of truth and lie.

i can't be sure just what you said
or exactly what you meant
but the 3 week replay in my head
was long enough for me to think

i think, i can't be sure now
that somehow it happened
your heart
landed on the bathroom floor
and whats more, what's worse
is i didn't understand
is you didn't understand
and you took my confusion
as your rejection

you know, i think, i'm not sure, but probably
i completely fucked up.

that was some party

2009-09-21T20:49:00.004-04:00

someone threw up on the stairs outside
it's hot, it stinks and is covered in flies
every day i hop over as i walk by

every day i think about you more than i'd like
but soon it'll rain and it'll be fine,
off the damn steps, out of my mind

If I knew how to pay you back...

2009-09-16T21:22:00.007-04:00

kindess, as much as cruelty
becomes part of who you are.
i remember being in kindergarten
unable to draw a star

but wary of the bouncy girl
who offered to show me how
to do one, two, five lines
i think she's a stripper now

It's like a your momma joke only not funny

2009-09-04T19:28:00.007-04:00

My apartment is so ghetto that if you run the microwave, all of the power goes out to Veronica's room on the other side.

My apartment is so ghetto, it has bars on the windows.

My apartment is so ghetto that as I was showering today, water pressure built up on the faucet and it ripped out of the wall and hit me.

My apartment is so ghetto that the bulb in my ceiling fan is hanging from a single wire.

My aparment is so ghetto that the smoke detector goes off when it's humid, meaning seven times a day.

My apartment is so ghetto that police officers hang out in the parking lot.

My apartment is so ghetto that there is only one washer and dryer for the building. And the dryer is broken.

We need to talk about 'sweetie'

2009-08-30T11:23:00.006-04:00

There are three tooth-
brushes in the bathroom
but only two people pay the rent.
three tooth-
brushes in the holder
I'm not liking this bull-
ahem.

Welcome welcome

2009-08-25T23:52:00.002-04:00

Moved into the new apartment today
welcome bars on the windows

The Traveler's Prayer

2009-05-16T16:03:00.004-04:00

A king's bed with linens of white
mirrored walls with flattering light
fluffs of towels, pillows for night
I hope I don't get crabs

Hi, my name is Nadia and I failed

2009-04-07T21:19:00.005-04:00

The past three weeks have been crazy. Have you ever had something happen to you, and as it is happening, you realize it's going to be a breaking point, a fork in the road of your life? That your life from that point on will be defined as a "before" and an "after?" Yeah, I got one of those about three weeks ago when I got an Organic Chemistry exam back.

Due to a series of uninteresting unfortunate events, I failed. Really hard. Like a 49 out of 100 failed with a class average of 67.

I've never failed an exam before -- not really. I've always at least been above the class average, which ends up curving me to a C or B and I do better next time. But this -- which ended up at 60 when all was said and done -- still an F.

Here you insert your pep talk, "It's just one test, I'm sure you can bring it up." Right, I can. But, again, due to a weird series of events, this test and this class is really important, fork in the road important. To understand it though, you need to know about a ragtime piano concert I went to a few weeks ago.

Stick with me. My piano teacher gave us an extra credit assignment, the deal being that if we went to the piano concert and wrote a short page about it, she would bump our final grade up a full letter grade. Now, normally I wouldn't need extra credit in piano, but due to a piano exam that I messed up the day after the Organic Chemistry exam I messed up, I decided it might not be a bad idea. That and I was bleeding points from annoying the teacher because she wouldn't let us pee.

Veronica and I ended up going with a girl from my lab. When we settled into our pew before the performance, we talked about how we hoped it wasn't too long, that it wouldn't be dark as we walked home and school, of course. She told me that she too had done badly on the last Organic Chemistry exam.

"Are you worried about your math and science GPA?" I asked her.
"Oh, not really, I should have an A in piano, an A in a history class..."
"No," I cut her off, "those classes don't count towards the math and science."
"Oh, right!" she laughed.

I then went through the list of classes that count and how to calculate a GPA because I'm an expert in this -- I know all the requirements. The deal is, we are both conditionally admitted pharmacy students. That means that you apply as a freshman, and they thought you were so special that they gave you a seat in the graduate school for your junior year, if you keep up to their requirements.

The other, hard way to get into grad school is to interview and compete with people. I don't stand a chance against those people and their three page resumes. My resume, if I had one, would say "animal shelter volunteer." That's it. No summer camps, no giving tours for the university, no internship at Rite Aid, none of the clubs and organizations, definitely no sorority. I figured out in high school that all that stuff was bull and I hated doing it, so I did what I wanted. Which was nothing. And it was nice and made absolutely no difference except to me.

The only conclusion that I can reach about all the people who go crazy over things they blatantly admit is meaningless to them is that they really believe in this stuff.

During the first song, I looked over to my lab friend when I heard a page flipping. She had filled an entire page of her notebook and needed another one -- what the hell?

"What are you doing?"
"Oh, I'm just taking some notes for this.." she said, pulling out a folded printout of the instructions for the paper.
"Oh, I didn't open that email yet," I said. I started reading it but it was too long and boring, so I stopped. I still don't know what the requirements are.

In the entire performance, she took over three pages of notes. What is there to write about? I didn't get it. This made me a little antsy, so I reached forward to get the stub pencil in the pew. I opened my program and wrote "2/4" next to a song.

That was the end of my notes. I forgot to write anything else because the two guys playing were funny and the songs were entertaining. For their last piece, they did a duet of the Catina song from Star Wars. Everyone was in a good mood, especially Veronica and me, who were giggling because every time we turn on Lego Star Wars, that song plays and we spend three to five minutes shooting and slapping each others characters until they fall into little Lego pieces.

When it was time to go home, we forgot about time and walked home in the dark. We didn't have more than three words of notes between us, and since I was finishing Philawyer's book at the time, the idea of being a ten percenter was in my head.

It doesn't matter if someone is polite, funny, nice -- when they take four pages of notes at a piano concert, you know you're never going to see eye to eye with them. I just don't care that much -- I don't buy into this being the most important thing in my life. Not so much that I don't still get nervous before exams and freak out, but I'm getting there. Hopefully to a Russell Brand level one day, but I'll never really be a believer. I'm more afraid, the things they have tricked me into believing I get anxious over and can't sleep. That sort of thing. When everyone around you is the same and you're different, you start to question that maybe you are wrong. Maybe you really do need to be in the Young Adult Frisbee Leaders of America club.

But then you meet another ten percenter -- I don't know how, they just come to you and you start playing Lego Star Wars and drinking on the occasional Monday night and your way doesn't seem so bad.

It's counterintuitive that I would know all the requirements and she didn't, but it makes sense. I am not a slacker, but I did not get straight A's in all my classes; that was fine. I needed something like a C+ and a B in lab this semester to make it to pharmacy school. First exam was great, got a nice B-, almost a B, figured I'd get an A on the next one and call it a career.

Since that didn't happen, I'm in the awkward position of failing out of pharmacy school. I'd never failed a test before this, let alone straight up failed at life. Now that I messed up my grade so badly, I either need an A in lab or a C+ in lecture, which requires an A on the exam I took yesterday and a B on the final. Keep in mind the class average is usually in the 60's. On the final, probably in the 50's. Awe-some.

I'll get a bunch of grades tomorrow that'll let me know where I stand a little better, including the third and final O Chem exam I studied for hours every day for the past three weeks. I have never studied as I did for that exam, literally all of my spare time. I cut writing, I cut class, I cut going to the shelter. I'm missing my dogs like crazy, a few of them got adopted, but I'm going tomorrow; as for writing, I had to spend an hour writing this for the headache to go away so I could do my lab report.

So I'll get these grades, and good or bad, I'll throw myself back into studying for the last few weeks of school til the final. I can't even imagine studying like that again, my brain is so fried. But I'll do it. I have to give it everything I have; if there's anything I'm good at, it's working really hard for a long time, a little bit at a time. It's frightening, though, because if I fail, there are no excuses. I just wasn't good enough. It's a lot easier to not ever fully try and be one of those people who say, "Oh I'm really smart, I'm just really lazy." Great, that's not a good thing, kill yourself.

I'm either going to pull it together and go onto pharmacy school, or I'm going to fail out. It's going to be like jumping out of a plane without a parachute. I have no idea what I'm going to do. At first that really scared me, I was terrified; I didn't have any back up plans. Now, I know it's going to hurt, a lot, but if I fail after all of this sweat and blood, then it's just not meant to be. God is saying no. I don't know what I'll be studying for after this, but I don't believe that it's the end of my life anymore.

My Follow-Up

2009-02-21T19:56:00.002-05:00

“The note made me feel terrible and good at the same time, which is the way I felt most of the time anyhow.”

Charles Bukowski Hollywood

Hating

2009-02-11T00:48:00.001-05:00

They were soft, they had never faced any fire. They were beautiful nothings. They made me sick. I hated them. They were part of the nightmare that always haunted me in one form or another.

--Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye