Does anyone know what "peopled out" means?
Because I think I just figured it out. I live in a 350 square foot studio with two other people. A friend of one of them has been staying with us the past couple nights, which is cool, because he's a great guy, but sucks because there's no room. Last night we had nine people in here at one time. Half were standing for most of the party. The bathroom is the only place here that is closed off and usually empty. I'm so tired because I couldn't sleep last night and it looks like that's going to happen again tonight. All I wanted to do was go to Robb's and sleep. That's it. Even if he stayed up and worked or watched a movie. I just want to be in the same room with him. We had seven people in our apartment tonight. I started feeling really irritated (what's new, right?), then I felt like it was hard to breath which didn't help my bitchiness and I had to seriously fight the urge to tell these people to fuck off. Just get out and don't come back for awhile. Claustrophobia has never been a problem for me which is why it's so weird.
Anyway I'm sorry I've been such a bitch. I just really need some space. Space that we really don't have.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Monday, December 18, 2006
Never Strange
"Hello."She answered hastily, juggling the phone on her shoulder, her purse, headphones, while taking off her jacket.
"Hello, Kat Boyd?" said a familiar voice, strong and masculine.
"Yes, this is she," her tone was expectant, ready for the big fuck you if it was a telemarketer.
"Hi! I'm calling from Children Who Drop Off the Face of the Earth from No One But Their Parents? Someone was wandering if you were ever going to call your father?"
She smiled. "Hi, Daddy." She dropped her purse and headphones gently onto the ottoman and let her jacket fall wherever. With her free hand, she held the phone straightening her neck.
"Hello, beautiful daughter. How are you?" he smiled. She could hear his smile while he talked.
"I'm good! I just got home from work." She paced habitually not realizing.
"You're working? Where are you working?" He had stopped smiling.
"The Oregon Convention center. In the garage."
"You're in Oregon?"
"Yeah, Daddy, I moved here last month," she said it as though he already knew even though she knew he didn't.
"Well. Were you ever going to talk to me?" the disappointment seeped through the phone.
"Of course. I just, um, forgot to call, that's all," she stopped in front of the window looking down to the street.
"We all forget, it's ok. I'm sorry."
"It's all right, Daddy." There was a pause and neither really knew what to say. She looked up at her ceiling biting her lip praying he'd say something first.
"I just wanted to call and see how you were and to hear your voice. I've been working and writing in my spare time. I've been thinking a lot about you. Both of us have."
"Both of you?" Her forehead crinkled and she looked down at the floor pacing again.
"Marie and I?"
"Marie has been thinking of me? Really." She smiled a sarcastic smile. He heard it through the phone.
"Yes, she has. Is that so hard to believe? To believe that she cares about you?"
"Yes it is, actually. She hated my guts and made every visit to see you a living hell. You know this." Kat told him a hundred times when she was much younger but he never believed her. Still doesn't.
"I know there was conflict but- let's not talk about this now. I miss you a great deal and was wondering if maybe the next time you had some time you could come out here?" this was hard for him to say, but why? Why is it so hard to ask your daughter to come visit? She's done it dozens of times since she was five.
"Daddy, it's going to be at least six months before I get vacation time. Why don't you come out here? When was the last time you were in Portland, OR?" This was hard to ask as well. Only because she had never asked her father for anything other than an ice cream from McDonald's when she was eight.
"It's been at least twenty five years. It's an idea. Let me talk to Marie and see if she feels up for a cross country road trip." His voice was in a good tone.
Kat rolled her eyes. Of course. Marie had to give the ok. Her mysterious 'sickness' that only came up once a year in the week that Kat was usually scheduled to come up, causing a postponing of the trip or (which is what usually happened) a cancellation. "Yeah. Talk it over with her; see how she's feeling." He could hear her insincerity.
"If she doesn't feel up to a road trip, then I'll go alone, ok? Don't worry; I sure feel like one. It's been a long while."
Road trips were the only pastime her father and she shared. They drove all over the midwest together every summer. Those two months out of the year that they got to see each other were spent inside a car, just the two of them. "Maybe we can drive all over Washington. A new state to conquer together. What do you think?" She smiled at the realization that these promises of visits were empty. Just like before.
"That sounds like a lot of fun, Sweetheart." He looked at the floor with the saddest face you ever saw an old man make. She could hear it.
"Yeah it does, Daddy. But, hey! I have got to get out of these work clothes and shower but you call me as soon as you talk to Marie, ok? Love you." She couldn't take it anymore. The lie.
"I will. And, Kat?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you too." He was on the verge of tears. She could hear it.
"Bye, Daddy. Talk to you soon?"
"Yeah, Kat. Yeah." He hung up and she looked at her phone as though she were grasping onto the conversation that was already over. She frowned. What a strange conversation. They were never this strange. Is this another side effect of adulthood? So far all the side effects sucked.
She threw the phone on the bed and reached into her purse. She grapped the want ads out with the one circle and the circles with Xs marked through them. She sighed and tossed it onto the counter. Outside the city lights became brighter as the sun set lower and lower. Oregon Convention Center? Where did that come from?Like it was easy finding work.
She leaned down into her purse and pulled out the tossed out half of a cheeseburger she nabbed out of you don't want to know where and began eating dinner without even a hesitation. No one said this move was going to be easy. Actually no one told her anything. They didn't know she was leaving until she had already left.
What a strange conversation. They were never strange.
"Hello, Kat Boyd?" said a familiar voice, strong and masculine.
"Yes, this is she," her tone was expectant, ready for the big fuck you if it was a telemarketer.
"Hi! I'm calling from Children Who Drop Off the Face of the Earth from No One But Their Parents? Someone was wandering if you were ever going to call your father?"
She smiled. "Hi, Daddy." She dropped her purse and headphones gently onto the ottoman and let her jacket fall wherever. With her free hand, she held the phone straightening her neck.
"Hello, beautiful daughter. How are you?" he smiled. She could hear his smile while he talked.
"I'm good! I just got home from work." She paced habitually not realizing.
"You're working? Where are you working?" He had stopped smiling.
"The Oregon Convention center. In the garage."
"You're in Oregon?"
"Yeah, Daddy, I moved here last month," she said it as though he already knew even though she knew he didn't.
"Well. Were you ever going to talk to me?" the disappointment seeped through the phone.
"Of course. I just, um, forgot to call, that's all," she stopped in front of the window looking down to the street.
"We all forget, it's ok. I'm sorry."
"It's all right, Daddy." There was a pause and neither really knew what to say. She looked up at her ceiling biting her lip praying he'd say something first.
"I just wanted to call and see how you were and to hear your voice. I've been working and writing in my spare time. I've been thinking a lot about you. Both of us have."
"Both of you?" Her forehead crinkled and she looked down at the floor pacing again.
"Marie and I?"
"Marie has been thinking of me? Really." She smiled a sarcastic smile. He heard it through the phone.
"Yes, she has. Is that so hard to believe? To believe that she cares about you?"
"Yes it is, actually. She hated my guts and made every visit to see you a living hell. You know this." Kat told him a hundred times when she was much younger but he never believed her. Still doesn't.
"I know there was conflict but- let's not talk about this now. I miss you a great deal and was wondering if maybe the next time you had some time you could come out here?" this was hard for him to say, but why? Why is it so hard to ask your daughter to come visit? She's done it dozens of times since she was five.
"Daddy, it's going to be at least six months before I get vacation time. Why don't you come out here? When was the last time you were in Portland, OR?" This was hard to ask as well. Only because she had never asked her father for anything other than an ice cream from McDonald's when she was eight.
"It's been at least twenty five years. It's an idea. Let me talk to Marie and see if she feels up for a cross country road trip." His voice was in a good tone.
Kat rolled her eyes. Of course. Marie had to give the ok. Her mysterious 'sickness' that only came up once a year in the week that Kat was usually scheduled to come up, causing a postponing of the trip or (which is what usually happened) a cancellation. "Yeah. Talk it over with her; see how she's feeling." He could hear her insincerity.
"If she doesn't feel up to a road trip, then I'll go alone, ok? Don't worry; I sure feel like one. It's been a long while."
Road trips were the only pastime her father and she shared. They drove all over the midwest together every summer. Those two months out of the year that they got to see each other were spent inside a car, just the two of them. "Maybe we can drive all over Washington. A new state to conquer together. What do you think?" She smiled at the realization that these promises of visits were empty. Just like before.
"That sounds like a lot of fun, Sweetheart." He looked at the floor with the saddest face you ever saw an old man make. She could hear it.
"Yeah it does, Daddy. But, hey! I have got to get out of these work clothes and shower but you call me as soon as you talk to Marie, ok? Love you." She couldn't take it anymore. The lie.
"I will. And, Kat?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you too." He was on the verge of tears. She could hear it.
"Bye, Daddy. Talk to you soon?"
"Yeah, Kat. Yeah." He hung up and she looked at her phone as though she were grasping onto the conversation that was already over. She frowned. What a strange conversation. They were never this strange. Is this another side effect of adulthood? So far all the side effects sucked.
She threw the phone on the bed and reached into her purse. She grapped the want ads out with the one circle and the circles with Xs marked through them. She sighed and tossed it onto the counter. Outside the city lights became brighter as the sun set lower and lower. Oregon Convention Center? Where did that come from?Like it was easy finding work.
She leaned down into her purse and pulled out the tossed out half of a cheeseburger she nabbed out of you don't want to know where and began eating dinner without even a hesitation. No one said this move was going to be easy. Actually no one told her anything. They didn't know she was leaving until she had already left.
What a strange conversation. They were never strange.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
You Will Find Redemption When Once There Was Crap
I'm not really into horoscopes
At least, I wasn't until my roommate exposed me to them. She's a pureblood hippie. Her grandparents were hippies, her parents were hippies, and now, she's a hippie. Not the vegan type, but the astrological type. Everything has a meaning. Everything is meant to happen the way it happens. And the stars can give some insight as to why things happen the way they do. So, Willamette Week has this FreeWill Astrology section and eerily, they're usually dead on accurate. Which is the only reason I check it every week. Those once-a-day horoscopes are usually just the result of some bored guy meeting a deadline with no research or no actual knowledge of astrology whatsoever. But, Willamette Week's once a week horoscopes are seriously scary when it comes to how accurate they are.
So what if everyone's destiny is literally set in the stars? Does that mean that there is no real suprise anymore? That everything we do is already written? Does the entire universe (astronomically speaking; gravity, planet alignment) really have that much of a psychological effect on us? I don't take much to heart, and some newspaper horoscope is not one of them, but should I? Sure, every week has a very strange accuracy but that doesn't mean that they're always right, right?
Scary. Saturn rules my destiny.
At least, I wasn't until my roommate exposed me to them. She's a pureblood hippie. Her grandparents were hippies, her parents were hippies, and now, she's a hippie. Not the vegan type, but the astrological type. Everything has a meaning. Everything is meant to happen the way it happens. And the stars can give some insight as to why things happen the way they do. So, Willamette Week has this FreeWill Astrology section and eerily, they're usually dead on accurate. Which is the only reason I check it every week. Those once-a-day horoscopes are usually just the result of some bored guy meeting a deadline with no research or no actual knowledge of astrology whatsoever. But, Willamette Week's once a week horoscopes are seriously scary when it comes to how accurate they are.
So what if everyone's destiny is literally set in the stars? Does that mean that there is no real suprise anymore? That everything we do is already written? Does the entire universe (astronomically speaking; gravity, planet alignment) really have that much of a psychological effect on us? I don't take much to heart, and some newspaper horoscope is not one of them, but should I? Sure, every week has a very strange accuracy but that doesn't mean that they're always right, right?
Scary. Saturn rules my destiny.
Monday, December 11, 2006
This Thing
There's a lot about me most would probably understand.
I'd like to think that I was alone in this. Mainly because most of the time that's just how it feels. But you would be amazed at just how many people are going through the exact same thing. People hide it well. Can you imagine having this thing that makes you ashamed to be alive and then do some research and find that one in four people have precisely the same feeling? One in four people! How profound. How comforting. How sad. How sad that so many people feel as hopeless and disgusting as you. All that research does to you is make you feel less alone in this. But not entirely because you can't talk to them. You can't tell them, discuss it with them, because...
Because you're hiding too. Because even though these people walk among you, there's no way that you would ever expose yourself. There's no way that you could find comfort in a total stranger, right? No one is going to expose themselves unless someone else does it first. With everyone waiting for someone else to speak up, nothing is said. This thing remains hidden. This self disgust remains inside.
You tell your friends, and the good ones help you through it. The good ones remain strong for you, standing as an anchor by your side. Most of them bolt. No relationship is ever the same. No relationship is without resentment. Unless they had it before they met you. Unless they themselves feel the same way you do. Unless they themselves are one out of the four people.
A minor annoyance once a year. That's all it is. The fear of exposure is worse than the actual thing. How sad is that? That this thing really isn't that bad but that the fear is worse?
No relationship is without resentment. For the rest of my life. I'm nineteen years old. That's another sixty years of resentment.
I'd like to think that I was alone in this. Mainly because most of the time that's just how it feels. But you would be amazed at just how many people are going through the exact same thing. People hide it well. Can you imagine having this thing that makes you ashamed to be alive and then do some research and find that one in four people have precisely the same feeling? One in four people! How profound. How comforting. How sad. How sad that so many people feel as hopeless and disgusting as you. All that research does to you is make you feel less alone in this. But not entirely because you can't talk to them. You can't tell them, discuss it with them, because...
Because you're hiding too. Because even though these people walk among you, there's no way that you would ever expose yourself. There's no way that you could find comfort in a total stranger, right? No one is going to expose themselves unless someone else does it first. With everyone waiting for someone else to speak up, nothing is said. This thing remains hidden. This self disgust remains inside.
You tell your friends, and the good ones help you through it. The good ones remain strong for you, standing as an anchor by your side. Most of them bolt. No relationship is ever the same. No relationship is without resentment. Unless they had it before they met you. Unless they themselves feel the same way you do. Unless they themselves are one out of the four people.
A minor annoyance once a year. That's all it is. The fear of exposure is worse than the actual thing. How sad is that? That this thing really isn't that bad but that the fear is worse?
No relationship is without resentment. For the rest of my life. I'm nineteen years old. That's another sixty years of resentment.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
