I’ll keep my stupid streak going through January.
I made it.
I’m taking my writing career back.
Three views at a time.
When did it all change?
One day you’re running, making mud pies with the neighbors. The next you’re playing politics on Instagram. Welcome to technology. It’s not who you are, but what you can lead on. It’s not what you think, but what brands you’re wearing. It’s not experiences you had, but the pictures you took. Excitement isn’t enough. Happiness isn’t what it use to be. Instead, everyone needs to be riddled with jealousy from your snap. They have to drool over your Instagram boat party. What happened? When did the thing that connects all of us become a vicious status imposing instrument? When did we become all blinded by the surface? Terrified of the depth?
And if you do break free? It can’t be ignored. No one can unread between the lines. You swipe through multiple pictures. Read different profiles. Sarah, Amber, Lia. All different faces, ages, outfits, likes, and dislikes. Yet they’re all strikingly similar. They cry out for the same shit. Hell, if you talk to a LIVE person. Flesh and blood. Brain and body. They want the same thing. The universe is random. We’re all frightened. We’re all alone. We crave meaning, but also to be understood. We are compelled to go on our own meaningless pilgrimages. Even though we’re surrounded by these things, blindness only shows what we think we want. And these trials? They sting but don’t burn. They leave wounds but no scar. At the end, they just make it all too concise and too clear.
Here I watch my six year old niece. Falling off the couch, while reaching for a cookie. Her eyes scanning and the brain buffers. The desk moved. The chair is rearranged. The curtains weren’t there before. All is strikingly familiar, yet undeniably different. Which cues the voice in the back of my head.
When did it all change?
It was 5:30. I couldn’t sleep.
Figured as much when you have a nap at four. My body starts fucking with me the minute it knows I’m on vacation. It will keep me running at trucker hours when I have an audit first thing in the morning but when the only thing on the morning agenda is to beat off, the roosters are yelling at me to go back to sleep.
I decide to make the most of it and hit the gym. Doing something productive couldn’t hurt. I crank up the Gloria Estefan and dance my way into the kitchen. I scoop a bit of the red powered more powerful than cocaine and mix it with my tap water. The mixture that is guaranteed to take years off my life but it sure does make my biceps look nice.
After strapping on my chucks I head out the door. My car is an ice box. My hands barely can grip the wheel. Winter is finally here. No more booty shorts. It’s yoga pant weather. I give it a few minutes before jetting down the parking garage. The gym doesn’t open until 6:00 anyways.
I take the long way trying to kill more time. Jamming out to more Gloria. A true Cuban princess. I drive down the parking garage. Only one car in the whole place. An old Ford with the trunk open. Exactly what I expected for a holiday weekend. I park in my usual spot and look at the clock, 5:50. My gym is fucking stickler about opening up early. Especially with a unique name like 24 hour fitness.
Fuck freezing outside. I’ll play on my phone for a few minutes. Weird. A girl I’d been chatting with on OKC hands me out her number. A cute Latin chick that says she’s always down for tacos. I start texting, “Real talk, who does-”
The phone drops to the passenger seat.
I look up. The Ford is angled, about an inch from my bumper. What the fuck? I’m in a parking space. I look at the driver.
“FUCK YOU!” she says. She’s got the double birds flying in the air.
Who tha….. What tha…… I pull up to the driver side door. My shoulder pops cranking the window down. I start to speak, “Excuse-“. The motor roared. The Ford darted past me. Dale Earnhardt would shit himself on the speed.
Well, that takes care of that. I pulled up into the nearest spot and went back to my phone. 5:55. Even with all the excitement, I still got a couple minutes.
SQUEEEEAAAAAK! DUNK! DUNK!
My head flinches to the rear view. The Ford is flying around the turn back my way!
Oh fuck this shit! I’m not about to reason to a bitch with automatic seat belts. They clearly have a screw loose. I throw my car in gear and drive out of there. I get to the top level and a Blonde in a Mercedes drives past.
Poor thing doesn’t stand a chance. Good Luck.
I looked at the clock. 7:30. Fuck.
No time to iron, if I wanted coffee. And shit, I always wanted coffee. Besides it was only the holiday party. Who am I going to impress? Well there’s a new chick in procurement with a great ass. But also a weird limp which made me ponder of the two were some how connected. It was one of those limps that you didn’t notice until you did. I’m sure half of the guys on 14 thought the same joke about how to straighten it out. I know I did, I thought as I locked my front door.
Shit, I forgot about my ticket. Every morning this seemed to happen. I hit the go app on my phone. I could make a cup of coffee faster than this piece of shit. The screen flashed: “0x0034 Internal Error Try again” God dammit! Again! I cut across Cedar Springs with my thumb on restart. Luckily it’s been dead this week, so I could pull this maneuver. At Olive the home screen appeared. I hit the walk button, while typing in my ticket. I saw a car cut straight and took a step.
HOOONNNKKKK! “GET OUT OF THE FUCKING ROAD RETARD!”
I dodged the Jetta back to the sidewalk. Every damn morning. I looked at my watch. 7:45. I could do this. Just got to sprint in and out. My girl would be working anyways. She’s the 7-11 MVP. LeBron James had nothing on her. Rocks two registers at once, speaks Swahili, and can make the same joke about Friday to me every morning. This Ethiopian was the epitome of Rock Star. I looked both ways. What The FUCK! This damn light skipped me again! Shit! I waited for a break in traffic and ran like Frogger. I decided to sprint past the American Airlines Center for a little insurance. Figured it might save me some time. I crossed Houston and hit the entrance.
Only one gigantic guy at the counter. Fucking A. I could pull this off. I b-lined it for the Texas Blend. Filled up the green cup, with lid and cardboard condom all in record time. Even got a straw like my dentist told me too. Such a sweet lady. “Now some people might make fun of you for drinking coffee with a straw. And you just have to say ‘SHUT UP!’ I’m doing this for my health. You have NO POWER over me” She also runs a charity for anti bullying.
I got behind Mr. Skyscraper who was buying an insane amount of water. “So how much for ze case over there?” He said in a broken German accent. Damn, he already had 6 giant bottles. “Which case?” The 7-11 Rockstar asked. “Ze case by ze door?” He pointed behind her. “Oh the wine or water?” Terrible booze placement if you ask me. I could sprint out with a small case. “Ze waner,” he answered. Jesus fuck. I’m gonna be here all fucking day. I jumped in, “I’m gonna take a random stab at it and say he’s talking about the water.” I looked over at the clock 7:55. “Zes Thank you!” He responded. “No problem.” “But vait,” he said, “how much for it?” You got to be fucking with me. “I think like 4 dollars,” She said. He looked upset. “But get it and I will see for you,” She said.
He walked over to get the case, while she fired up the other register. That’s my girl. “Only two more days huh” She said. I looked at my watch 7:59. Fuck I got to sprint it. All because this fucking freak of nature needs to drown himself in Aquafina. He can’t just KNOW how much a fucking case of water is. He needs to haggle cause 4 dollars is breaking the bank.
I get to the door and I hear “Could you please hold for me?” I hang back because he caring over a gallon of water. Screw it. I won’t make it on time anyways.
I look up and it’s Dirk Nowitzki.
I promised myself I would post everyday. So here it is faggot. Go to sleep.